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ladykailitha · 2 months

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Icarus Part 3

Hello! If you haven't seen it yet, I've got a set schedule for what story posts on what days now (as seen here) and this one as well as Well Met By Moonlight, Batshit Soulmates, and Never Hold Back Your Step... will still be posting just on rotation until I can finish some of my WIPs. (I may be stretching myself a bit thin having six going at the same time.)

In this one we have the concert. Eddie stumbles on something big and doesn't know how to deal with it all. And Uncle Wayne is bestest as always.

@emly03 @redfreckledwolf @itsall-taken @rozzieroos @mira-jadeamethyst

Part 1 Part 2

The day of the concert dawned abhorrently cheerful and bright. Not a cloud in the sky or any accidents that would prevent Eddie from having to take Dustin to this event. He wouldn’t deign to call it a concert. He had heard the album and seen their posters, but he refused to wander over to YouTube and watch videos of their concerts, interviews, their music videos.

He didn’t want to be even more disappointed that they were all flash and no substance then he was sure he was going to be for the next two hours.

Dustin rolled his eyes when Eddie parked in the huge concert parking lot.

“You’re just salty because I like them as much as I like Corroded Coffin,” he huffed getting out the car. “You have to concede that Abaddon’s vocals are killer.”

Eddie scoffed. “Do not. I haven’t heard them live. Way too many artists use autotune too much these days.”

“You sound like that meme,” he sneered, “‘Old Man Yells at Cloud’.”

Eddie swatted at him playfully. “Am not.” Dustin raised his eyebrow skeptically and he threw his arms in the air. “I’m not. I am a very serious musician, Dusty. The last thing metal needs is some band that can’t write or even play their own instruments. This isn’t pop.”

“You are such an asshole,” he said and turned toward the entrance, leaving Eddie to jog to catch up with him.

Eddie sighed and put his arm around Dustin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I am being an asshole. I turned into the person I swore I would never be. Those shit for brains critics that hated Corroded Coffin when we first got on the scene. And that was wrong of me.”

Dustin sighed, too. “I just want you to like them too. They are so good if you’d just give them a chance.”

Eddie breathed out through his nose. “Yeah. I can at least give them that.”

They got to their seats and Eddie was a little impressed at Claudia Henderson’s Ticket Master foo. They weren’t front row, but they were only a couple of rows back so you could actually see the stage without having to strain their necks and smack dab in the center of the row.

Dustin would have the best time. And now it was up to Eddie not ruin it for the kid. Because yes, he was still a kid as far as Eddie was concerned. Twenty-one was so fucking young. That was how old most of the band was when they got their record deal, after all. They weren’t prepared for what came next, that’s for sure.

They got settled into their seats and Eddie watched as the rest of the crowd shuffled in. They were all about Dustin’s age with very few exceptions in either direction.

There seemed to be a color theme going on with the girls in the audience though. They were grouped in clumps of red, black, blue, or white. Which made sense if each band member stuck to a certain color palette.

Well he was about to find out, he supposed.

The lights dimmed. The crowd quieted down. The spotlight lit up the drumkit first. And Eddie knew that Gareth would be drooling over it. It was all black with black metal fittings. The kit seemed to collect light almost like a blackhole.

Then from the ceiling, a man dressed all in black being lowered onto the stage with large black raven wings on his back. He wore a black hooded coat over what, Eddie couldn’t tell. It was all black. The shirt, the pants, the boots. Even his mask was all black with even the eyes appearing closed. His feet touched the ground and the crowd went wild.

“Azrael!” the announcer called out.

Azrael settled on the throne and picked up black drum sticks.He counted time above his head and played a wicked solo to the adoring crowd’s absolute delight.

Dustin jumped up and down, screaming.

The spotlight moved to the right side of stage and the next band member descended from the ceiling. Large bat wings adorned his back and he was dressed in red leather fetish gear. Complete with tight leather pants that looked painted on and a matching harness highlighting his bare chest, peeking out from the red leather hooded coat.

His guitar was fucking gorgeous, though. A Warlock, much like Eddie’s own. It was custom painted red with black flames licking up the neck.

Eddie rolled his eyes, but it seemed he was the only one who thought the whole thing was over the top judging from the screams from the girls in the audience.

He didn’t just land gently on the stage like the drummer did, oh no. He fucking stomped onto the stage with a howl.

His wings, like the drummer’s ascended back into the rafters as the announcer shouted, “Asmodeus!”

And then Eddie really did roll his eyes. The demon of lust. Of course he was.

But seconds later Eddie’s jaw dropped to the floor as the man wailed on his guitar driving the crowd further into the frenzy.

Once he finished his solo the crowd quieted again and he could see why. Because just then, descending on gossamer wings that shimmered like starlight, was their bassist.

Everything about him was midnight blue and shimmering like the night. His mask was the face of the moon. He had his own hooded coat, but it was like the night sky, with some kind of crystal or gem sewn in to make the coat glimmer like stars.

His bass was something that Brian would have sold his own mother for and they were as thick as thieves. Eddie didn’t know much about basses considering his sweetheart was an electric guitar, but he could tell it wasn’t expensive but was perfect for his style. A style he showed off with gusto to the audience’s obvious delight.

“Astraeus!” the announcer cried.

Eddie decided that this one was his favorite. It played up the whole mysterious thing without the over the top flash of the guitarist or the sheer void of the drummer.

The audience hushed as the three members of the band began to play what was clearly the lead singer’s entrance music.

And holy fuck was Eddie screwed. This man was descending like a fucking angel sent from God, Jesus pose and all.

He was all in white with an opaque lace mask that had his mouth and chin cut out for him to sing. That surprised Eddie somewhat. He figured that the guy would have his whole face covered like everyone else in the band and that he could lip sync.

But nope. Apparently no one in this band did anything by halves.

The lead singer was wearing a sheer mesh crop top under the hooded floor length coats the whole band was wearing. Only his was white with a silk powder blue lining.

Eddie winced in sympathy. They must get boiling under the lights with those things on.

A few feet from the stage floor there was an explosive pop! And the feathers from his wings flew out into the crowd who was now screaming as if their life depended on the sheer volume coming out them. He looked over at Dustin who was no different.

When Eddie could see the stage again, this angel’s wings were now skeletal and gothic.

He landed in front of microphone whose stand had been decorated with a scarf in each of of the band members’ signature colors.

“Abbadon!” the announcer yelled for the final time.

And Eddie was in love. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Dustin must have seen his expression because he was suddenly tugging on Eddie’s arm and screaming, “I told you!!”

“Indy!” Abbadon growled, grabbing the mic. “Thank you so much for having us! Let’s get this started.”

Then he began to sing and yeah, Eddie knew that the guy had charm, but this was a whole new level of epic. He was enthralled.

He didn’t utter a fucking word for several songs. But then it happened. Eddie couldn’t believe it. He hurried to snap a picture to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

But there it was it in living color. He turned to Dustin to see if he saw it too, but the kid was too busy screaming and jumping up and down.

Eddie’s jaw fell.

That couldn’t be right, couldn’t it? That Dustin didn’t know? Eddie looked back up on stage and a lot of the puzzle pieces started slotting in place. His heart sank a little.

He shook his head to clear it of dark thoughts. He didn’t know the reason for any of this and leaping to conclusions would only get a shit ton of people hurt. Especially the boy next to him.

Eddie let the music wash over him. Let the magic of metal soothe his soul. Soon he was jumping up and down and headbanging with the rest of the crowd. Right hand flashing the devil’s horns, left hand out to steady himself he let himself enjoy the band’s stage presence.

To say that Eddie’s mind was fucking blown would be an understatement. He pestered Dustin all the way home with rapid fire questions. Where did the band tour last time? What was their schedule this time? Was it a six month tour or an eighteen month tour last time?

Dustin answered each question with growing excitement, thinking that Eddie had finally grown to love this band as much as he had.

Eddie on the other hand felt a growing sense of dread. Well... maybe dread was the wrong word. It was certainly a sinking feeling. One he really had to exam closely.

At least he could honestly say that he fell in love with the music before he found out his little secret.

And fuck what a secret it was.

He dropped Dustin off at home and drove out to the ranch that he had gifted to Wayne when Corroded Coffin first made it big. It was a beautiful, sprawled out home surrounded by acres of land and Eddie loved it even more than Wayne did.

Eddie stumbled through the door and was surprised to see Wayne drinking hot chocolate and reading a sports magazine in his expensive recliner. And yet, at the same time, not really that surprised.

“You do realize I’m no longer that fucked up kid with anger issues,” Eddie huffed on his way to the kitchen to grab a beer, “that were almost as bad as the troubles with the law, right?”

Wayne chuckled. “Maybe so. But you’re still my boy and I’ll keep worrying about you until the day I die.”

Eddie popped open the can of beer and sat down on the sofa. He leaned his head back on the back cushion with a heavy sigh.

Wayne raised an eyebrow. “What’s stewing around in that head of yours?”

Eddie slowly raised his head. “What would you do if you accidentally found out something about a friend that they were keeping from everyone they knew?”

Wayne set down his magazine. “That would depend on the secret. Is it hurting anyone?”

“Is what hurting anyone?” Eddie asked. “The secret?” Wayne nodded and Eddie frowned, really thinking about it.

“Maybe some feelings,” he said after a moment. “But it’s not dangerous like they committed a crime or anything. It’s not even about their sexuality.”

Wayne hummed thoughtfully. “And is it a big secret or a little one?”

Again Eddie was forced to think hard about what that meant. “I guess it depends on the person, but in my eyes it’s pretty big.”

The elder Munson nodded. “Do you feel hurt by this secret?”

“Yeah, yeah. I guess I do.” He bowed his head and let out a shuddering breath.

“Is there a reason you think he wouldn’t have told you?” Wayne pressed.

“Of course no–” Eddie stopped as his brain caught up to his mouth. “Shit.”

Wayne raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Eddie admitted shyly. “There’s a pretty good reason why he wouldn’t have told me. And now I feel like the shit friend.”

Wayne stood up and pulled Eddie into a big hug. “Maybe so, but you have the time to course correct and show this friend that you are worthy of his secret.”

Eddie nodded. “Thanks, Uncle Wayne,” he mumbled into Wayne’s neck.

“I’m just glad I could help.”

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @danili666 @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @goodolefashionedloverboi @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @yikes-a-bee @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @y4r3luv @cryptid-system @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rockstar steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson #the fallen

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magicshopaholic · 2 months

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Moving On (Namjoon x OC)

Summary: BTS performs in Amsterdam and Namjoon invites you to the afterparty.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Genre: Angst, smut

Word count: 8.2K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, angst, sex, nudity, making out, fingering, cumming, arguing,

A/N: Takes place a little over a month after Final Destination.

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @sumzysworld, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: "where does the good go" by tegan and sara

namjoon masterlist | main masterlist

Joon [13:45] Did you get the email from Big Hit?

Kaya [13:50] Yes

Joon [13:51] The number at the end is their London office. They’ve been briefed already and have additional security available for all European locations.

Kaya [13:54] Okay

There’s a break in the chat here. Kaya stares at the time stamp, trying to picture him scrambling to find something else to say.

Joon [14:15] The company managed to track down the account that uploaded the video. Account has been taken down and they’ve sued for invasion of privacy.

Kaya [14:20] Okay

Joon [14:22] They’ve also offered to add damages to the suit, in case we want that. Do you?

Kaya [14:25] Not really

Joon [14:26] Okay then

Another break. Kaya scans the time stamps again, even though she’s memorised it by now. She remembers the three dots indicating him typing, seeing them appear and disappear over and over again.

Joon [14:40] How are you?

Kaya [14:45] Fine

Joon [14:46] How‘s work?

Kaya [14:48] Fine

Joon [14:50] Kaya I’m trying

Kaya [14:51] Class starting, got to go

He hadn’t responded and she hadn’t expected him to. Four days post break-up hadn’t been nearly long enough for her to let go of her anger but now, four weeks in, it’s only been replaced with an equal amount of sadness and longing.

Every conversation has been exactly this terse and abrupt, the last one being a week ago. It had appeared when she’d been teaching an elective class and it had taken every ounce of her will to not check it until the class ended. As it turned out, she couldn’t even think of a decent response to it.

“How can he possibly think of asking me this?” Kaya mutters, earphones in as she walks home. It’s dusk, a gorgeous time of the day, but she holds no appreciation for it right now.

“Wouldn’t it be worse if he didn’t ask?” Dilara asks reasonably. She’s in her car by the sound of it, a low hum audible of whichever fancy car of hers she’s decided to take out today.

Kaya swallows, pondering this. It might be, but it doesn’t address the problem she’s too embarrassed to voice out loud: it should be harder for him to ask. The thought that he might not be taking this break-up as hard as she is kills something inside of her, as if she’d misunderstood everything in the last three years.

Her strategy to save herself from hearing the truth had been to distance herself from everyone, including Yoongi, who had texted her out of the blue one day to ask her if she was okay (she hadn’t responded); Seokjin, who seemed to skirt the topic altogether and sounded as though he was speaking to someone very sick; and especially Dilara, who Kaya knew would be the only one with the capacity to ask insightful questions that she herself was too afraid to.

“It’s just… strange,” is all she can manage. “He hopped on a flight, shot a few emails, came over and broke up with me and then went right back to his schedule, all in one day. And now he's inviting me to a party?"

“After-party, so it won’t be, like… crazy,” Dilara clarifies. “And the concert before it.”

“I’m definitely not going to his concert.”

“Of course not,” she agrees breezily. “I wouldn’t expect you to. But the party… I mean, it’s a good thing, isn’t it? He doesn’t want you to be strangers.”

Kaya slows down as she approaches the river. She’s taken the long route home today - anything to prolong the commute before another night in her tainted apartment with memories on every surface.

“I don’t know if I want to see him.” I don’t know if I can. “He wants to see me, though, apparently,” she states after a moment.

Dilara doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. “I mean -“ She begins before pausing, then trying again. “I’m sure it’s going to be torture for him to see you. But even that’s better than not seeing you.”

Kaya doesn’t even realise she’d been holding her breath; she exhales as slowly as possible so as to not make a sound, both at Dilara’s words as well as her answering the unasked question.

She doesn’t respond immediately, though. Now that they’re down this route of addressing concerns she’s been harbouring in her heart for weeks, Kaya feels the rest of them on the verge of tumbling out of her mouth.

"You've seen him a bit these last couple of months,” she ventures, lowering her voice and leaning backwards against the railing overlooking the river. “Does it seem like he misses me at all?"

Dilara hums, a little too knowingly for Kaya’s liking. “Of course, he does. He’s not the most expressive when it comes to his feelings but aside from Tae last year, I don't think I've met a more miserable person."

Kaya waits for the swell of happiness or relief at this news, but all it brings with it is a new wave of anger and frustration.

“Thanks.”

"Look, speaking from experience, it's not easy seeing your ex after a difficult break-up,” says Dilara, sighing. “But sometimes you don't realise just how much you needed to see them until you see them, even if it's just to gain some closure."

Closure. It sounds… final. Kaya can’t picture it, being virtual strangers eventually, just bits of each other’s past. Ex-boyfriend, girl of his dreams, the one that got away. She hates all those words because they just don’t apply, not really. They can’t.

She closes her eyes and presses the heel of her palms into them to intercept the wetness forming, not caring that Dilara is still on the other end of the line. She and Namjoon had stood right here, years ago, living in the bliss of a new couple in fresh love. He’d brought her a bunch of tiny yellow flowers from the park, part-cheesy and part-genuine, eyes twinkling and dimples soft.

Kaya squeezes her eyes shut at the memory, terrified at how the edges of it are already blurring.

“I don’t think I’ll go,” she murmurs, opening her eyes to stare at the ground. “I can’t.”

“Are you sure?” Dilara sounds slightly surprised.

“Yeah. Two days from now is… it’s too soon. I’ll either cry or yell or… I don’t know. It’s too hard.”

“Oh.” She’s quiet for a few seconds. “Okay. If you’re sure. Let me know if you want to get together on Sunday,” she adds. “Brunch or something.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

—

The next day, Kaya is in the library again, grading papers and wishing she could go back to being a grad student who’s biggest problem was a pop quiz. She’s deliberately chosen a table at the back, away from where the students generally sit, which is why she looks up in surprise when someone comes to her table.

“H-hi, Kaya.” The student waves rests one hand on the back of an empty hair and waves hesitantly with the other.

“Um… hi.” Kaya tries not to frown too conspicuously, for she’s sure she knows this girl.

Svetlana. Savannah.

“Elena, right?”

“Yeah,” she answers with a nervous smile. “Um… are you busy?”

Kaya glances at the stacks of papers, books and laptop on the table. “Kind of, yeah.”

“Okay. Well… I just wanted to say hi.”

Kaya nods awkwardly and forces a small smile on her face. “Hi.”

Elena nods, tucking her hair behind her ears. She looks like she’s about to leave but at the last moment, sits down at the table. Kaya feels her smile fade for she really, really wants to be alone right now.

“How - how are things going?” She sounds nervous - extremely so. She seems to be fidgeting slightly and constantly touching her hair.

“Great,” says Kaya shortly, going back to her paper and hoping she’ll take the hint. “You?”

“Not bad, overall. I guess. Classes are hard and mid-terms are coming up as well…” Elena trails off. “Any plans for the weekend?”

Trying not to sigh, Kaya shakes her head. “Not really. You?”

“Well… I’m going to a concert tomorrow,” she answers hurriedly, and it’s clear that she’s been waiting to divulge this information, oblivious to how Kaya’s heart stops. “It should be fun. Do - do you listen to BTS?”

An unexpected notification from this morning floats into her kind. BTS continues their Europe leg by arriving in Amsterdam, ready to kick off the summer in style!

“No,” she answers truthfully.

“Oh.” Elena is quiet for a moment. “They’re really… good.”

There’s some awkward silence during which Kaya deliberately writes comments on the paper she’s grading, scratching the pen on the paper and wishing Elena would leave.

“It’ll be good to get out of campus. The people here are kind of intimidating. The parties are pretty wild, too,” she murmurs after a moment, sounding uncomfortable.

Kaya nods absently, uncharacteristically satisfied with the knowledge that she might be intimidating this unwanted guest. “Maybe you’re going to the wrong parties,” she offers.

Elena lets out a nervous laugh again. “Maybe. I never see you at them, though. There’s one, tonight, in the common room. Maybe you could come,” she suggests lightly. “Bring a friend or - or your boyfriend.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she answers flatly, not looking up.

“You - oh.” There’s a note of surprise in her voice. “Oh,” she repeats, this time seemingly to herself. “Are you sure?” she blurts out.

Kaya’s eyes snap up to glare at her. “Pretty sure.”

Elena’s eyes widen. “Oh, of - of course,” she stutters. “Sorry, that - that was a stupid question. Sorry.” She swallows and looks at her lap.

Kaya closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, immediately feeling guilty for snapping at an innocent bystander in this situation. “Elena, I… I really need to get these papers done,” she tells her, her voice one of forced calm. “So…”

The blonde finally seems to understand and awkwardly stands up. “Okay. Um, see you around,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear again.

Kaya nods as she leaves, Namjoon’s invitation swimming in her mind tantalisingly. She can’t ignore it anymore, the fact that they’re in the same city, her city. If she’s not wrong, he’ll do the concert tomorrow night, the group will probably stay the night and depart by Sunday afternoon or evening and she will probably never see him again.

She attempts to continue grading the paper she was working on when Elena interrupted, but when she finds herself reading the same stupid sentence for the fourth time without retaining anything, she begins packing up, ready to head home.

—

Joon [18:42] Hope to see you there tonight

Kaya, with a loss as to how to respond to this, simply did not. She can’t imagine he would be texting her during his concert, but she also knows he has before, if the situation was urgent enough to demand it.

She straightens the black dress against her hips and tilts her head at her reflection. It’s a simple dress, plain black, form-fitting and reaching below her knees, but it’s quite possibly the most gorgeous, sexiest dress she owns.

If she and Namjoon were together, she would have worn it tonight with no hesitation because it would have driven him insane. After weeks of being apart, seeing her in this dress would have rendered him incapable of staying in work mode without dirty texts, flirty touches and eyes from across the room undressing her. Even now, with a bare face, her hair tied into a loose bun and no footwear, the dress is a game-changer.

She gives herself a few moments to imagine this paradise, one that might have come true tonight had she never told him about the break-in. Then, she silently unzips the dress and climbs out of the black fabric pooled around her feet. Tucking it back into her closet, she looks for something else.

Dilara [18:50] In case you change your mind, sharing the location here [Location]

Dilara’s text had come minutes after Namjoon’s, and Kaya has to imagine it was a genuine coincidence. Although she’d replied to neither, it was the second text that caused her to change her mind - that, and the lingering fear that if she didn’t go today, she didn’t know how either of them would be able to maneuver a situation to see each other again.

The concert should end in a little over an hour. Her phone pings again and she groans, for she doesn’t think she can take any more of their unsubtle attempts at convincing her to go tonight. It’s not Namjoon or Dilara, though, but Adam Fischer, her thirty-something thesis advisor, asking if she wants to discuss the coming week’s class schedule tonight.

Kaya shakes her head as she types out a reply (Sorry, I can’t tonight. Will set up a meeting for first thing Monday if that’s okay?), a little rueful. Namjoon heavily disliked Adam, despite having no concrete reason for doing so. He’d always suspected Adam of having feelings for her, even though Adam hadn’t said or done anything to make her think he might. Part of her wonders if she could somehow ditch the party for this meeting and still make sure that the news travelled to Namjoon through the grapevine (Dilara), and if that would still piss him off even now.

She immediately cringes at the pettiness of it, however, sending her reply to Adam and heading into the shower.

The party is at the rooftop restaurant of the hotel next to the concert venue, and presumably where BTS is staying while in Amsterdam. It isn’t as crowded as she was anticipating, although the music is fairly loud. It looks more like a fancy houseparty, and even a few seconds in, Kaya can spot a handful of vaguely famous people in attendance. She looks around for a familiar face, preferably Dilara or Yoongi or one of the younger boys, wishing she’d called ahead and trying not to think about the fact that in spite of not RSVP-ing, her name was on the guest list.

She takes another hesitant step in and audibly sighs when she spots Taehyung, who, for reasons best known to himself, has accessorised his outfit with an ascot. He seems to be in an animated conversation with Jungkook, while standing in between them and facing ahead, with loose curls tumbling down her shoulders and looking slightly bored, is…

“Kaya!”

Dilara’s mouth forms her name over the music as she brushes past her boyfriend and his friend and hurries towards Kaya, looking both happy and relieved to see her. “You look hot!” she exclaims when she reaches her.

“Oh -” Kaya looks down self-consciously; she’d settled for a straight strapless top and jeans, unable to justify dressing sexier without seeming like she was trying too hard for her ex-boyfriend. “Thanks. And you look…” She frowns slightly at Dilara’s mini-dress and go-go boots, with a slightly out-of-place gold ring hanging around her neck. “... like Daphne Blake.”

Dilara’s face visibly falls. “I look like a cartoon character?” she asks, wrinkling her nose.

“Well, a very pretty cartoon character,” she adds quickly. “Especially with the headband. But… why?”

She rolls her eyes. “Taehyung picked it - but I’m sure it’s not because of Daphne Blake.” Spotting Kaya’s confused expression, she shrugs sheepishly. “We got into an argument yesterday about who has better taste, so we decided to go shopping at The Nine Streets and pick each other’s outfits for tonight.”

Kaya raises her eyebrows, something seemingly clicking into place. “So the ascot is your doing?”

“M-hm.” She nods in satisfaction before her eyes widen. “Oh, hey! An ascot - like Fred!” She lets out a low whistle at this realisation and laughs, while Kaya nods knowingly, feeling the urge to smile for the first time in what feels like weeks. “Not planned but zero regrets. I wonder if Tae knows that - oh.”

Kaya cuts her off mid-sentence with a hug, suddenly immensely grateful for Dilara. She can’t remember the last time she’d let anyone into her life this much with the exception of Namjoon; but just maybe, when she’d been happy with him and her guard had been lowered, Dilara had slipped in without warning as well.

She tightens her arms around Kaya and rubs her back. “It’s good to see you, too,” she says, sounding part-surprised and part-delighted. “It’s been a while but I promise that we will still - oh, hey.” The change in tone is abrupt. “Incoming.”

By the way her voice immediately lowers, Kaya is sure she knows what Dilara is referring to. Her heart beating a mile a minute, she pulls away from the hug and turns as casually as she can.

Her first thought is that he looks thinner - visibly so. Well, he’s on tour, says a voice in her head but Kaya suspects that’s not the only reason, for he’d been on tour when he’d broken up with her as well.

His hair is a silvery blond, looking almost metallic; dressed simply in a black T-shirt and jeans, he runs a hand through his hair so it falls gracefully around his face as he approaches her, his face unreadable.

“Hi,” he says, and it sounds like all the breath has been let out of him with just one word. He swallows and straightens his shoulders, a small smile appearing on his face, the dimple faintly visible. “It’s good to see you, Kaya.”

Kaya nods, unable to speak and overcome with a sudden urge to cry. “You, too,” she murmurs, glancing at the floor and blinking rapidly before looking back up at him, a bit defiantly.

“I’m glad you decided to come.”

She nods again, her chest twisting at how normal he sounds. He’s standing far away from her as well, as though to make it clear in every way possible that they’re not together.

“Hope you had a good concert,” she ventures, recalling the grad student who’d accosted her yesterday, practically beside herself at attending a BTS concert. “Backstage must have been hectic.”

A flicker of something appears in his eyes for a moment, possibly with memories of backstage. Wishes of luck, last minute hugs, sweaty and passionate kisses fueled by adrenaline. But it disappears instantly and Kaya wonders if she imagined it.

“It was,” he answers, nodding. He slides his hands into his pockets smoothly, leaning back on his heels and his smile widening a little. “But worth it as always. The crew did well.”

Kaya doesn’t even bother nodding this time; all of a sudden, she regrets coming here tonight. Dilara has left, she just realises, and Namjoon is acting like they’re acquaintances at best, making her feel stupid and yet immensely grateful that she didn’t wear the sexy black dress.

At that moment, his eyes flicker to something behind her. “I’m sorry, I just need to go and say hi to a couple of people. But enjoy your night. It’s an open bar,” he adds, smiling and nodding politely before brushing past her and walking away.

Kaya doesn’t move; she doesn’t think she can. Something heavy feels like it’s settled on her chest, the weight of confusion, disbelief and crushing disappointment threatening to suffocate her. She has no idea what she’d been expecting; maybe arguing, fighting, crying together again - but not him not caring. Not this.

Namjoon continues walking in the opposite direction for as long as he can keep Kaya in his peripheral vision, both guilty and relieved when she doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t think he can look her in the eye if she does, witness the pain and hurt in her face that close.

He catches Seokjin’s eye and hurries over to him. Seokjin raises his eyebrows and seems to guess what might have transpired, ushering him over to the other end of the circular bar and out of Kaya’s line of sight.

“How did it go?”

Namjoon rests his palms on the bar and shakes his head, no words coming to him at the moment and feeling like he could throw up. He can’t fathom how he did it, how he stood there before her and didn’t immediately pull her to him, or break down and ask her to forgive him for doing the only thing he knew to do.

“Drink this.” Seokjin slides a glass to him and Namjoon takes it without hesitation, taking a huge gulp and waiting for it to sting his sinuses.

“This is water,” he states hoarsely, frowning at the glass.

“Cold water,” corrects Seokjin. “It’ll help clear your head.”

Namjoon takes another sip and places the glass down, dropping his head into his hands. “I can’t do this. How do I tell her I can’t do this? How do I ask her to -“ But he breaks off here, his mind swimming with the sight of her bare shoulders and exposed collarbones, imagining how they would feel if he held her.

“Okay.” Seokjin exhales through his nose and pauses. “Look, I have to ask. You’ve seen the state she is in. And you’re…” He struggles for a moment “...like this. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to ask her to get back -“

“No.” The answer is instant, although it’s partly a habit by now. As he does every time his mind tries to convince him otherwise, Namjoon forces the memory of her phone call to the forefront of his mind, the fear in her voice and devastation on her face when he’d entered her apartment.

“But maybe this is -“

“No.”

Seokjin is silent and Namjoon can tell that he doesn’t approve. Please don’t ask me again, hyung. He doesn’t know if he did the right thing by inviting her but he couldn’t imagine not doing it either, not being right here in her city, knowing she was so close that he could almost smell the coconut and vanilla in the air and still not see her in the flesh.

“If you’re sure,” says Seokjin at last. “If you are, then I guess you did well. Just… just be normal around her. Keep a normal distance, talk about normal things and…” He half-shrugs, sounding uncertain. “She’s smart. She’ll understand. If you’re sure you want to do this, then… she’ll get it.”

Normal. Namjoon knows what he means, but he wants to tell him that none of this is normal. Not touching her, not being honest with her, not being with her - none of it is normal.

“She’s talking to Yoongi right now,” he adds, and Namjoon turns to see them near the stairs to the top floor. Kaya’s back is to him, her head lowered slightly and her thumbs hooked onto the back pockets of her jeans, the material hugging her hips and curving down her backside… He swallows and looks away.

“This is your chance,” says Seokjin. “Go and mingle. Let her see you moving on - even if you actually aren’t,” he clarifies quickly. “It won’t be pleasant but it might encourage her to do the same.”

Namjoon isn’t sure of the wisdom of this strategy but ever since the cause of his break-up had been revealed to the older members (and surely to Taehyung at least, by Dilara), he’d almost been relieved that he wouldn’t have to make every decision on his own.

He tries his best to navigate the party after that, making empty conversation with guests, using every bit of remaining energy and willpower to plaster a smile on his face. All the while, part of his attention is constantly on Kaya, registering her familiar figure alone at the bar as she nurses a beer, sometimes with Dilara.

Be normal. Seokjin’s words start holding less and less meaning with every passing minute, especially when he spots Kaya having finished her drink and he’s struck with the sudden fear that she will leave the party. In an effort to be as normal as he can, Namjoon heads over to the bar where she’s scanning the life-size menu half-heartedly, arms folded across her chest.

“Like anything?” he asks humbly. Long Island Iced Tea or a Mai Tai - depends on the flavours. His heart jolts when she shoots him a doubtful look and doesn’t answer, almost as if she’s wary of talking to him. She leans over the bar and gives the bartender a smile that makes his heart drop, especially when he grins back.

“Komt de mai tai in mango?” she asks, half-pouting when he shakes his head. “Een biertje, alsjeblieft,” she says finally, taking her second beer and turning away from the bar.

Namjoon doesn’t remember ever feeling this distant from her. “I’m glad you came tonight,” he tries again, choosing to look at her even though she’s facing away.

Kaya nods, pursing her lips and looking ahead. “Yeah, you said that already.” But her voice trembles ever so slightly, or maybe he just knows her so well that he’s sure it’s not a case of her not wanting to look at him - she can’t look at him.

It’s all on him now. He started this; if there is any hope of them still staying in each other’s lives, it’s down to him to make it happen.

“How’s your dissertation going?” he asks, hoping her work is a topic she might open up on.

She shrugs after a moment. “Off schedule,” she answers shortly. “A lot of variables hanging in the air.”

“Did you get into the research project you’d applied for?”

It’s momentary but it appears: the corner of her mouth tilts upwards. “Yeah,” she admits, finally looking at him, albeit hesitantly. “Guess I’ll have a lot more time to focus on it now,” she murmurs, the hint of a smile fading.

Namjoon’s heart sinks. She’s so angry with him; it’s palpable and not something he has ever been on the receiving end of. Her hand hangs by her side; his own itches to link his fingers with his, maybe tug her to him or lead her out of this stupid party where he can plead for her to just look at him.

“Well,” he says, then pauses. “I’m glad you could get the time off tonight. Must have been hard.”

“M-hm, not really.” She shakes her head. “Adam wanted to meet but I’ll probably catch up with him later,” she adds nonchalantly.

Namjoon nods, his hand tightening around his glass. He can’t tell if she’s trying to provoke him, for they do work closely; close enough that Adam’s intentions have always been a point of disagreement for them. He’d never been able to explain to her just how much he hated the way her advisor looked at her when she didn’t notice, how his hugs always lingered a moment too long or how he insisted on calling her late in the evenings to discuss work.

He’s distracted momentarily by Jungkook, who approaches them while bopping effortlessly to the music and stops in between them, turning to face in the same direction as Namjoon and Kaya. He’s definitely tipsy; the smile on his face is too big and he doesn’t seem to be reading the room at all.

“Dilara is a really good dancer, isn’t she?” he says loudly in English to no one in particular. Namjoon frowns and follows his gaze to see Dilara, Taehyung and Hoseok dancing, before turning back to look at Jungkook. On his other side, Kaya is also frowning at him, tilting her head curiously. Their eyes meet and she raises her eyebrows slightly.

Namjoon fights a smile as Kaya half-chuckles and looks away, his heart twisting with longing at how much he misses her. She looks so incredibly beautiful; his eyes sting when he realises that there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

“I’m gonna -“ He gestures vaguely and walks away in the opposite direction, desperate to be anywhere but around her before his resolve breaks.

The next half hour is a flurry of faces; Namjoon distracts himself with every single individual at the party, making small talk and exchanging unfunny jokes and hyper aware of Kaya occasionally glancing at him.

He knows, because he’s watching her, too, doing his best to make sure she doesn’t see him looking. He can’t even help it; it’s almost muscle memory at this point.

“Who are you looking at?” The woman he’s talking to asks him point-blank.

Namjoon flushes, realising he’d been staring at Kaya over her shoulder while she’d been speaking.

“No one,” he answers quickly. “Sorry.”

The twenty-something woman frowns curiously. “Are you sure? I’m not offended.”

“It’s… nothing.” He shakes his head and looks at the floor.

“Ex-girlfriend?”

Ex. Not trusting himself to speak, Namjoon nods.

“Hm.” She hums, somewhat sympathetically. “Bad break-up?”

“Pretty bad.”

“I’m sorry,” she says after a moment. “It’s never easy to be around an ex if it hasn’t ended well.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, desperate to change the topic. “All part of the process, right?”

“Right,” she says encouragingly. “Plus, once you’re past this phase, the one where you constantly want to die, you can begin the drink and eat and hook up as much as you want stage with no judgement.”

He chuckles politely, the prospect sounding horrendous. “Thanks. Feels good to laugh for real.”

She smiles wider and, before he knows it, leans forward and presses a kiss against his lips.

It takes Namjoon a couple of seconds of pure shock before he jumps backwards. “Whoa. What -“ His heart races uncomfortably. “What was that?”

“Sorry,” she says slowly, looking a little confused. “I thought… you wanted to make your ex jealous. Isn’t that where you were going with this?”

“No,” he clarifies immediately. “No. Absolutely not. I don’t want to - no.” In the midst of his minor crisis, he notes how the woman looks almost mortified.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s fine,” he cuts her off, suddenly feeling horribly guilty. He looks up out of habit and sees, unmistakably, Kaya leaving the restaurant, her long dark hair and the shimmery dark blue of her top disappearing out the door.

—

The night has gotten chillier in the last couple of hours and the cool wind hits her bare shoulders the moment she steps out, but Kaya barely feels it. She’s not thinking right now; thinking is what’s got them here, thinking about everything and overthinking to the point of fleeing a restaurant.

“Kaya!”

Her feet increase their pace automatically the same time her stomach flips, but he’s taller and faster and he reaches her before she can even reach the elevator.

“Kaya,” he repeats hurriedly, reaching and grabbing her elbow. “Wait, please. I’m sorry -”

“Why did you even invite me here?” she asks, cutting him off and turning around to face him. She’s so tired; she didn’t think break-ups could be this exhausting. “You’ve barely said anything to me. Was it to show me in person how you’re moving on? Because if that’s the case, then… message received.”

Namjoon shakes his head immediately; he looks exhausted as well, and Kaya is once again struck by how much thinner he is, overcome with a mixture of empathy and frustration at him.

“That was not - I didn’t plan that,” he says, sighing. “I don’t even know who she is. She kissed me and it wasn’t… come on, does it look like I’m moving on?” he asks, raising his arms helplessly.

Kaya stares at him and then sighs, shaking her head. “Why did you invite me here?” she asks again, less defensive this time.

“Because I wanted to see you,” he says at once.

She stares at him. “Well, you’ve seen me,” she says, sniffing. “Can I go now?”

“Kaya…”

“What?”

Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, looking lost for words. “Please don’t -“ He breaks off abruptly before taking a step closer to her, his height both large and comforting. “I don’t want you to be sad. I’m sorry.”

Too late. “You’re not supposed to care how I feel. Not anymore.”

He lets out a humourless chuckle. “What?”

“We’re over.” She can hear the tremble in her voice as she crosses her arms across her chest again. “You said it yourself. You’re not supposed to care how I feel.”

“Really?” He narrows his eyes at her. “You think this break-up had anything to do with how I feel about you? You know as I do that it didn’t.” When she doesn’t answer, he sighs. “I did this because I care.”

“If you say so.”

He pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Are you deliberately trying to provoke me or something?”

“Provoke you into what?” she blurts out. “What - what is that you want, exactly? What do you want us to do? Just circle around in each other’s orbits for the rest of our lives, while still being - while still feeling the way we do?” she asks, avoiding her almost-slip of tongue. “We’re just supposed to stay not be together and still stay in each other’s lives? What - what do you want?”

Namjoon opens his mouth but falls silent; it’s clear he hasn’t thought that far ahead - or he can’t say it out loud. “I want…” He begins, before pausing and starting again. “I want… you to be happy,” he says eventually. “And safe.”

She scoffs and he bristles.

“I’m serious. I -” He breaks off when someone exits the restaurant, his gaze following them until they’re out of sight before he turns back to her. “This is hard for me, too, you know? Why is it so hard for you to believe I might want you to be happy?”

Kaya exhales but doesn’t answer, because it isn’t hard to believe, not even a little bit. It’s unfortunately the most believable thing he’s ever said to her which means she can’t even fight it.

“How?” she asks finally. “By moving on, like you were pretending to do?”

Namjoon bites his lip and his eyes glaze over, and she knows he’s picturing it. His eyes fall to the floor but he nods slowly anyway. “Yeah, I guess. As long as I don’t have to watch it,” he adds in a mutter.

It’s really over. Kaya feels her eyes well up. “Fine,” she answers quietly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find someone to move on with tonight.” She turns to leave but feels him stop her again. “What?” she snarls.

“Kaya, I -” The lift opens and a handful of people tumble out, holding merchandise and talking loudly. Namjoon’s eyes widen and he immediately grabs her arms and walks her back into a corner, just as the group turns into their corridor and towards the restaurant.

“What are you -”

But the second lift opens just then and they hear the sound of a second group of voices. Namjoon swears under his breath and pushes open a door behind her, walking her back further into the tiny dark room and letting the door swing shut behind him.

“What is wrong with -“

“It’s press,” he hisses, and she falls silent.

He peers out into the corridor through the small window in the door; there’s no light except for the bit through the window and from a skylight in the ceiling. Kaya can smell something vaguely citric that she decides is floor cleaner; they are in a janitor’s closet.

She and Namjoon are frozen in place, his hands still on her arms and hers on his torso to keep from losing her balance. It’s been a long time since they’ve been this close; it takes Kaya a few seconds to realise that the voices outside have disappeared, but he still hasn’t moved away.

Almost as if he’s subconsciously heard her, his thumbs stroke her arm once. The simple touch makes all the anger crumble away for a moment, especially now that it’s just them with the rest of the world shut outside. Kaya hesitates for a moment, then gently rests her forehead on his shoulder. Namjoon stiffens but a moment later, she feels his fingers tighten above her elbows, followed by him loosely enveloping her in his arms.

It seems cruel, almost, that the target of her anger and source of her comfort lie in the same person. It isn’t even a hug; it’s a moment of weakness at best, borne from his almost subconscious need to protect her. For the first time, Kaya wonders if she’s being unfair to him.

Resisting the temptation to wrap her arms around his waist, she steps away from him with difficulty, her back touching the wall. His arms fall from around her reluctantly, his expression resigned. It’s dark but she can see him more clearly than she has all night.

“This is a terrible idea,” she murmurs, echoing her words from a month ago. “The worst you’ve ever had.”

Namjoon exhales shakily but doesn’t argue. “I meant everything I said in that note,” he says, not even trying to hide the tremble in his voice anymore. “And I really do want you to be happy.”

The note. The one he’d kept on her bedside table when he’d left her apartment while she slept, the only thing of his that was left when she’d awoken, naked and alone. She’d only had the strength to read it once before she’d broken down and tucked it deep into her drawer, knowing the words would be etched in her memory.

“You know what will make me happy,” she whispers, looking at the ground. She feels him come closer to her, one hand hovering by her side as though unable to decide if she’d want her to touch him.

He finally rests it lightly on her waist, moving it slightly upward as she looks up at him, her heart twisting at how he’s unable to meet her eyes. She places her hands on his face, thinking vaguely how much she misses seeing his dimple.

“Joon,” she whispers, waiting for him to nod once. “Look at me.”

Namjoon visibly swallows, gaze still fallen. “Kaya, I…”

“No,” she interrupts him. “Look at me.”

With what seems like an enormous effort, he meets her eyes. This is hard for me too, you know?

She knows. Kaya strokes his cheekbones with her thumbs, her touch feather-light. “Kiss me,” she whispers. She touches her forehead to his and closes her eyes, hoping he’ll give in, for she can’t go further than this.

His hand tightens around her waist, pressing her into the wall. Their lips brush momentarily and he shivers.

“Do it,” she urges, her voice barely audible now. “Kiss me.”

She feels his lips before she even registers him moving against her and she leans into it, feeling like she can breathe for the first time in weeks. Come back to me, she thinks desperately. Come back to where you belong.

It’s like he can hear her. Namjoon pulls away, one hand on the wall beside her face for support, the other holding her.

“Fuck,” he whispers, and it sends a jolt of anticipation through her heart. “I love you, Kaya,” he adds, voice full of emotion. Kaya nods, unable to speak, wishing he would meet her eyes. He moves his hands to her face and touches his forehead to hers again, swallowing.

Look at me.

But he doesn’t. “But you have no idea,” he continues, every word sounding like it's costing him effort, “how I felt when you called me that night. The things that went through my mind…” He sniffs, and Kaya’s heart sinks. “I can’t let that happen again baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

She can feel her face start to contort and she drops her hands from his shoulders, for she knows this part by heart. “Goodbye, Namjoon,” she mutters thickly, sliding out from between him and the wall. She pushes open the door and hurries out, leaving him behind.

—

When she hears the knock on her front door the next morning, Kaya is just about to step into the shower. She freezes and sighs, for she really, really needs this shower. She considers ignoring it but the knock sounds again and she groans, abandoning the activity of tying up her hair and letting it fall loose instead.

Grabbing the old, threadbare robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, she pulls it around herself and shuffles to the front door. She peers through the peephole and her heart stops for a moment, but she steels herself and opens the door.

Namjoon stands before her, hands in his pockets and shoulders slightly hunched. “Hey. I just wanted to - oh, God,” he switches abruptly, his expression changing from vaguely apologetic to shocked, and he slips inside the apartment.

“What?” Kaya asks, taken off guard and stumbling backwards.

“You really opened the door wearing that?” he hisses, shutting the door behind him. “I could’ve been anyone!”

“I knew it was you,” she argues, tightening the belt around her waist and realising, for the first time, how short the robe is. But she isn’t about to admit that to him, especially not when he’s turned up unannounced and decided to begin his visit by berating her. She folds her arms across her chest. “What do you want, Namjoon?”

He hesitates, almost as though he’s just noticing how displeased she is. “Sorry,” he mutters, looking a bit ashamed. “I didn’t mean to… anyway,” he says quickly, wringing his hands and slipping them back in his pockets. “How are you?”

Kaya shrugs suspiciously. He looks remarkably different from where she’d left him last night, almost breaking down and apologising to her. Right now, he seems almost… calm. She can almost imagine that last night had been a slip-up of emotion, possibly due to tiredness and an open bar, whereas in the light of day, he’s back to being the responsible ex who’s fulfilling his obligations by checking up on her each day.

“I’m great.”

He nods after a moment, clearly not believing her. “Well, I came here because…” He sighs and a glimmer of last night’s emotion appears on his face. “I thought about what you said last night. And you were right.”

The jolt in her stomach is almost painful, but Kaya hangs on. If he was talking about what she thinks he is, he would be delivering it far more differently.

“We can’t keep doing this. I can’t expect you to keep doing this,” he adds. “Staying in this limbo, not knowing…” He bites his lip and lowers his gaze, removing his hands from his pockets. “You have every right to move on. I want you to - to be happy.”

Kaya licks her lips slowly. “This,” she says coldly, “could’ve been a text.”

“I didn’t want to leave things the way they were last night,” he tells her, his voice softer. “You’re, uh…” His voice breaks off for a moment. “You’re the love of my life. And we were together for a long time and I… I loved every moment of it. I just want to say goodbye the right way.”

Her throat hurts holding back the rush of emotion that threatens to overwhelm her.

“Are you sure?” She can’t resist asking, in a whisper. When he nods and lowers his eyes, she feels the heavy, heavy anchor of acceptance settle in her stomach.

Namjoon hesitantly reaches out with one hand but when she gives him a look, he nods and steps forward, and they meet in their last hug, three and a half years after their first last hug in her apartment.

Kaya hugs him tight, no longer caring about hiding how she feels. There isn’t enough time to try and memorise everything so she doesn’t even try; she just goes higher on her toes and presses her nose into his shoulder, revelling in his scent one last time.

Namjoon doesn’t seem to be doing much better. He’s holding her tight, so tight that it doesn’t seem like he’s ever intending on letting her go. His face is in her hair and his arms stroke her back in small movements, his go-to movement to comfort her since they met.

Just a few more seconds. The sensations increase now; the feel of his shoulders, his chest touching hers - and she’s suddenly conscious of the thin robe being the only thing separating her naked body from him.

At the same time, his hands move to her waist - out of habit, she knows, but she can’t help but be extremely aware of it. His hand stops just above the curve of her hips, quickly and abruptly.

Her mouth feels dry, but her legs press together. Then, as though he can read her mind and the direction her thoughts are invariably leading in, against her hip, she can feel his body react.

She lets out a soft gasp and feels his body stiffen around her. This is goodbye, a voice reminds her, urging her brain to focus on the matter at hand. But it’s slipping - fading, almost, as a physical urge struggles for dominance.

Her lips brush his neck as she pulls away - she has to pull away - but it doesn’t matter in the end because somewhere along the way his lips find hers and all thought disappears, replaced by touch, feel and hunger.

Namjoon sighs into her mouth like he’s breathing for the first time, pulling her close. Her robe starts to loosen and he tugs at the belt, groaning when his hands touch her bare skin.

“Fuck, are you really not wearing anything under this?” he murmurs, his voice so low and reverberating so deep inside her that she shivers.

The robe is off; it’s cool and sudden air, a moment where his hands fall from her waist and then their back but this time, it’s skin against skin. It’s lips and sighs and tight grips, the feel of denim, her fingers moving out of habit as they unbutton and unzip - and then there’s pride and relief when she feels his desire for her, still the same as ever, no matter his words.

There’s something solid against her back; somewhere, dimly, her mind registers that her dining table is rickety and has her laptop on it, and then she’s leaning forward and he’s behind her and his chest is against her back and he wants her just as much as he wants him.

“Are you -“

“I’m still on birth control,” she confirms tightly, the next moment feeling his fingers on her hips and then he’s inside her again, after so long. She could almost sob at how good it feels, how right, the lips on her shoulder and his scent and touch.

But it’s over too soon. She gasps and falls forward, her ears ringing and heart hurting at the same time as her heart races. He’s getting close, too; she tries to memorise it now, the exact moment, but then he pulls out. It’s sudden, the emptiness, but the next moment, she feels wetness on her back.

It takes around ten seconds, ten seconds when she’s frozen before she finally hears him sigh and take a step away. A moment later, she reaches across the table and pulls the tissue box towards her, reaching behind and wiping her back.

Kaya turns slightly to see him pulling on his T-shirt, jeans buttoned already. She picks up her robe and pulls it on hurriedly, suddenly not wanting to be naked for even another microsecond in front of him.

Something feels wrong. It’s not the first time he’s finished on her; he’s done it before, on explicit request and without, none of which ever made her feel… like this. Self-conscious. Bare.

Namjoon clears his throat. “I -“ He meets her eyes, still panting slightly. “I still want to… do this right,” he says, sounding almost formal. “Goodbye, Kaya.”

He starts to take a step forward but pauses. “Maybe we shouldn’t hug,” he murmurs, offering her a small smile. Kaya watches as he hesitantly offers her a hand.

This is goodbye. Kaya can’t remember ever feeling this uncomfortable around him. The momentary loss of her sense of reason feels like it’s returned in full form, and she tightens the robe around her. She starts to reach for his hand but then stops.

“This is what you meant?” she asks quietly. “When you said you wanted to do it the right way? You wanted to see if you could squeeze in one last fuck before you closed this out like a business meeting?”

“What?” Namjoon’s eyes widen. “No! I didn’t - I didn’t want that to happen! I mean - you know that’s not what I meant,” he adds quickly. “I didn’t plan this. You and I both -“

“You planned our break-up and I had no idea,” she cuts him off, the shame and embarrassment creeping up her throat. “I really don’t know anymore.”

He scoffs, but his eyes flicker like he’s been stung. “Is that what you think of me? We were both here, Kaya. It wasn’t just me - you wanted this just as much as I -“

“I slept with Adam.”

Namjoon freezes. He swallows and his eyes flicker again, rapidly this time. “You’re lying,” he whispers.

Kaya shrugs, holding his gaze with every last bit of willpower in her. “You were the one who told me to move on last night,” she reminds him, watching his expression crumble and doing nothing to stop it.

After what feels like several minutes, or maybe even hours, Namjoon nods slowly. Then, without another word, he turns around and opens the door, walking out of her life and shutting the door behind him.

—

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facebook post from joe on christmas 2020

Well, it’s 2am on Christmas Eve night and I find myself laying in bed, thinking about this year’s Christmas Extravaganza that never was. This would’ve been the thirteenth year. It has been both deeply comforting and insanely depressing to get so many messages from people who were bummed about the show not happening or posting pics from years past. I truly can’t believe that I am part of something that plays such a huge role in the lives of so many people I know and love and so many strangers. It’s been the one constant in my own life since I first started working in this business and I have long suspected that Christmas just wouldn’t feel like Christmas without doing the Extravaganza. I was right. People have been asking me if I was going to do a virtual Extravaganza since September. While I have not wanted to let anyone down, I just couldn’t bring myself to make it happen. There’s nothing remote about the Extravaganza and I felt like as soon as you took it out of a room with live actors interacting with actual humans, it became something else entirely. I was desperately hoping to have Some holiday whatnot to offer and for a while it looked like we were going to get to do an Iconis and Family concert on an empty stage at a regional theater that would be streamed but, as often happens these days, it got cancelled at the very last minute. It was my most personally disappointing theatrical experience of the year! And I assumed it was the last theatrical undertaking I would be involved with until 2021. And then. Out of the blue, I got involved producing (and performing in) the #SaveWestBankCafe campaign and telethon. And while it’s not the same as staging the freewheeling ode to Christmas Specials and Chosen Families that I’ve done for the past 12 years, it does feel weirdly connected. The Christmas Extravaganza usually involves a plot device that finds us trying “save the theater” from a greedy real estate developer or landlord or [insert classic Christmas villain here.] The whole misfit gang has to band together and pool our resources and make sure that good triumphs over evil. It’s not enough that we save the theater, we have to save the Christmas villain, save the city, save the whole stinkin’ world. I realized that I AM doing the Christmas Extravaganza this year. It’s just real life. There’s no anthropomorphic chestnuts (yet) but otherwise, it’s all the same. t really know where this is going, but I wanted to say thanks for everyone who has been along for the ride- both onstage and off. Thanks for making me feel like this family that we’ve made is as important to you as it is to me. And promise me you’ll be there when we come back. And yes, Virginia, we Will come back. This is the final speech that was gonna happen right before the end of that cancelled Iconis and Family show. Read along. I’ll be me and you can be EVERYBODY. JOE Well, it’s almost time to say goodnight. But before we go, I want to thank everyone on this stage for spending tonight with me. And thank all of you watching at home, too. I think the thing I miss most about the before times is the live connection between us up here and you out there, but I also think I learned something tonight. EVERYBODY What did you learn, Joe? JOE I learned that just because you can’t see something doesn’t mean it isn’t there. It’s not just the audience who is missing in this theater tonight, there are plenty of Iconis Family members who couldn’t be here either. But even though they aren’t, they are. I feel them. The storm’s raging outside, but we’re fighting through it. And right now, a dozen lunatics singing theater songs on a stage at a regional theater feels like more than Christmas. It feels like hope. From all of us to all of you: here’s to Family, to home, to survival. And here’s to the day when we can all be together again. [Music: “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)”] Photo by Jessie Smith

#i think i saw this before but like read it only the once at the time & yknow the vibe was [coughing up blood lying facedown]#and now that day when we can all be together again: this last weekend. plus virtual distant observation from afar lmao #going ''hmm and how would i describe how i feel rereading and reabsorbing and reprocessing this now'' while currently crying ;m;#tfw that bmc bway goodbye speech & getting the Shoutout To Everyone Listening Here & Everywhere Now & Anytime #like pointing to oneself....when abf is singing in my halloween friends and you're one of them. yeah; you too #the successful real life Save The Theatre producing / performing he was doing fr like 1st of all wrow 2nd of all truly how Resonant #joe iconis christmas extravaganza #joe iconis

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everythingsf1ne23 · 27 days

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𝐒𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐁𝐞 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑) |

𝘔𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘭 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢 & 𝘞𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘯

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 🎀💕:

@yarrystyleeza If you want to be added check out my pinned post!

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 💌:

My goal is to be more productive in terms of writing this week ‘cause I’ve been lacking with the fics and also enjoy Michael’s pov at the end my lovelies ~Jess

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 📝:

in which, Molly takes her shopping but she is spotted which is a shock as she is believed to have died

𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘗𝘰𝘷:

I pose in the mirror after I apply my makeup but then I laugh,

“oh gosh” I say to myself realising that I’ve probably put too much blush on

but you can never have too much blush right?

I have my hair in a ponytail which is unusual as I love it done but I wanna be different for once,

My phone buzzes and I check it to see that Molly is on her way to pick me up for our shopping trip,

I hear a whistle behind me

so I turn to see Wayne,

“You’re looking absolutely stunning as you always do” I feel my cheeks turning red and with my blush, I probably look like a tomato

“Aww thank you!” I get up off the chair at my vanity and I give him a hug

“You make me the happiest” I tell Wayne as he holds me tightly in the hug

“I’m glad that I do and I’m definitely the happiest when I’m around you, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me”

I hear a car beeping and I look out the window to see Molly’s car

“I better go otherwise Molly will probably leave without me” I smile at Wayne and he smiles back

“Well enjoy yourself my love”

I give him a quick kiss then I grab my leather jacket along with my handbag

“I will, see you later, I love you”

I shut the front door behind me and I get into the passenger’s seat of Molly’s car

“You two must be so loved up, I was almost thinking that you weren’t coming with me”

“Of course I was still coming with you, I always enjoy our shopping trips and we really are, Wayne is honestly my everything”

“You seem so much brighter and that’s so lovely to see”

“How are things going with Michael?”

“Things are really good with us”

Soon enough we arrive at the shopping centre, some of the shops weren’t our style so we didn’t bother going into them,

I pick out a white corset top and I pair it with bright orange pants

I’ve been loving colour recently so I’ve been trying to bring them into all my outfits,

I decide that I need Molly’s opinion as she has great fashion sense,

“Molly what do you think?”

“It’s certainly your style, you should definitely get them”

Afterwards we walk into a more expensive, boutique aesthetic shop

Molly looks at the blue summer dress

“That’s nice isn’t it?” she asks me and I nod in agreement

“Ooh yes it’s lovely”

Molly notices the price tag

“Well it’s very expensive especially for our pharmacist wages, we should probably be getting more for what we do”

“Yeah I definitely can agree on that one, when I was being a dj at concerts for some friends I was getting more money”

“You were a dj? Teach me how to do it please!”

“Of course I will and yeah when I left for America last year, I decided to do something different with my life”

“Stop that’s actually super cool, we should have a party so you can show off your dj skills” Molly giggles and I smile at her

“I’d love that, I haven’t done it in so long”

I notice some skirts in the corner of my eye so I walk quickly over

“I haven’t bought a new skirt in so long”

I think to myself and I look through the rack of skirts, some were mini and other were long

I observe a cute long green flower patterned skirt but once I see the price tag I realise that I should probably leave it there,

Suddenly I have the feeling that someone’s watching me so I turn slightly and I notice that it is Viking sitting down on a small couch with his phone in his hands,

Does he know that it’s me? I ask myself but then Molly comes over to me

“Let’s go see some other shops” she links arms with me and leads us out of the boutique.

𝘔𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘭’𝘴 𝘗𝘰𝘷:

I’m currently at Amanda and Jimmy’s house as Eric apparently has something important to tell us,

“What do you think this is about?”

I ask Amanda,

“I honestly don’t know, sure it could be about anything knowing Viking”

The front door bursts open which the three of us can only assume that it’s him

“You’ll never guess who I saw today when I was out shopping with Nikki”

Viking tells us and he is clearly in a grumpy mood as usual with him lately,

“Well no need to keep us in suspense,

who was it?”

“You know Moore’s cousin the one who helped him set up the shooting that killed Jamie, the one who is supposed to be dead”

“You’re actually joking right?” Amanda asks him

“Of course I’m not fucking joking,

look there’s a photo of her”

I look and I notice that it is Molly’s friend who works with her in the pharmacy, I say nothing as I know that she’s a good person according to Molly.

“She must be really sneaky if she pulled that off, I wonder where she went” Jimmy remarks and Viking speaks up again

“I heard her speaking to her friend and apparently she was being a dj in America, I’ve done some digging and I found her new Instagram and everything”

Viking passes his phone around once again, I could see her photos and videos with the same people, must be her friends.

“According to her Instagram, she has been in America, Europe and Asia touring with her friends at their concerts, there was even concerts here in Dublin”

“Jesus you’ve found out a lot of information” Amanda responds

“Nikki helped me too so I can’t take all the credit, but she could possibly be a threat so we should keep an eye on her”

I know that she is Molly’s closest friend so I can’t let anyone in the family hurt her whether she is a threat or not, I know that she means a lot to Molly so I’ll have to protect them both,

Viking turns to leave but then he turns back

“Oh and also Wayne Madigan is following her too, so she must know him as well”

“We’re dealing with him right now so I’m sure that they’re not planning anything together” I tell him

“If you say so Michael”

“I know so!”, I respond and then Viking finally leaves which means that I can also go home.

#kin rte #kin bbc #kin fanfic #kin fanfiction #charlie cox #michael kinsella #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #jack meade #wayne madigan x reader #wayne madigan x you

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alarrytale · 6 months

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I know fans and especially old-day larries are sick of him and his tweet was the last straw but what if his larry denial wasn’t meant to be denial more like him telling fans to stop making everything he does as a larry sign and make theories about literally anything? It isn’t that long when tumblr larries were calling out twitter larries for this, for spreading literally every rumour and making theories of it because those twarries literally take everything as a larry sign - ‘Oh, Louis was staring at one vip box yesterday, there must’ve been Harry!’

‘There was some mysterious shadow in one of the vip boxes watching the show, that must’ve been Harry.’

‘Louis is talking to someone in the van, it must’ve been Harry.’

‘Lottie posted video from zoo and this voice sounds just like Harry so it’s definitely him behind the camera!’

Back in the day some larries called out Gemma when she named larries mental after some of them were constatly harrasing her in comment section in literally every post with “💚💙” and expecting her to out them. I don’t want to excuse him for how he behave and it’s right to call him out especially when it comes to being rude to fans or dragging that kid lately and pretending to be the father of the year but as long as I’ve seen him being in a great mood lately, chilled so he forgot to control his laddy lad image and his natural flamboyant mannerism came through, his smirk when singing “You still like to wear my jumper” after Umbro 2.0 or playing 7, what if he didn’t actually deny larry more like to tell fans in very unfortunate way to chill because not everything is a sign. In a normal world he would come online the next day and apologize or aknowledge his mistakes or just explain how he meant that tweet but this isn’t normal world, he’s closeted and can’t say/do much just like Harry.

The only thing that makes me sad that while some larries unstan him, his tweet also made them doubt if they are still together.

Hi, anon!

The thing is, Harry and Louis are closeted and together. They don't want to be closeted and they hate to stunt or to pretend they are someone they're not. So over the years they've given us signs here and there for us to pick up on to show that they are gay and together. It can be messaging through t-shirts or it can be the choice of closing songs at shows. Sometimes it's very subtle. So that has created a fandom that looks for signs in everything and can dig up information and connect dots like the FBI. Harry and Louis created that environment. They've even encouraged it with RBB and with Eroda and the FITF puzzles. They know we love that shit and we're good at it, because they've trained us well. Sometimes this fandom is going to see things that aren’t there. That's just how it is.

Us larries have been bullied and gaslighted and been made to look like lunatics for believing larry is real. We are ridiculed and told we are less than other fans. Some larries are also queer. Because of how we are treated we have an extra need to express ourself and be proud of who we are. We refuse to be silenced. We know we are right.

So if Louis or Harry are annoyed at us looking for signs everywhere and creating theories they can honestly fuck off. They created that environment and they now have to deal with it. I don't think they care if we think L looked at H at a concert when he wasn't there. So i don't think parmageddon is connected to that. If Gemma is annoyed at people commenting blue and green hearts on her ig posts she can fuck off too. It's our way of expressing ourselves as an oppressed group of fandom. It's our way to show our love and say 'we know what's real and what's not'. She is benefiting and riding the coat-tails of her brother's fame, so she can deal with a couple of blue and green hearts.

Don't let any of this stop you from being a proud larrie, theorising and expressing yourself!

#i hate when larries try to shame other larries #and i hate fandom policing #and maybe an unpopular opinion #but i hate when larrie tumblr bloggers look down on twitter larries #louis underscore #louis image #larries ftw #fandom #twitter #gemma styles

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bts-ify · 1 year

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get to know me 💫 - thank you Rid @taegularities for tagging me 🧡, ah i'm doing them both at once so it's veeeery long i'm sorry

Name: C (anonymity is fun isn’t it)

Sign: gemini sun and moon, scorpio rising

Height: 169 cm so 5'6"- 5'7" i think

Time: 1:54 PM CET (RID I KNEW WE ARE CLOSE)

Birthday: june 5th

Fav Band/Artist: bts obviously but i listen to a looooot of different music, so also harry styles, bon iver, kortez and many more

Last Movie: jung_e

Last Show: full one - alice in borderland

When I Created this Blog: november 2021

What I Post: almost nothing now 😂 i reblog mostly from various creators bc they're talented af

Other Blogs: a main/personal, it's over 11 years old, my baby 🥹

Do I get asks: not really, i'm not that active and not a creator

Followers: a small handfull 🧡

Avg hours of sleep: around 8

Instrument: i've got an ukulele but i only know how to play the moon song :')

Dream job: barista and caffe owner, i'm a dietitian but i'm dropping it to learn and become a barista 🥹 used to dream about being a writer as a side job tho

Dream trip: to a bts concert 🥲

Fav songs: right now it's wab the eternal, formula by labrinth, starboy by the weeknd and the way i are by timbaland

3 Ships: i don't have them anymore... but i loved Rid's caroline forbes x klaus mikaelson too so i'll stick to it

First Ship Ever: okayyy this goes way back and it's adam lambert x tommy joe ratliff

Last Song: change pt.2 RM 🧡

Currently Reading: @taegularities for fanfics (i'm planning to sit down with candles&flames) but for books it's the housekeeper and the professor by yoko ogawa

Currently Watching: the last of us

Currently Consuming: anything that keeps me calm, i'm stressed af

Currently Craving: peace and routine 😭

Are you named after anyone? yess it's funny, both my names are after 2 girls from my sister's group in kindergarten, the prettiest one and the smartest one 😂

When was the last time you cried? just before this post, watching ep3 of the last of us, tears guaranteed

Do you have kids? nope and i'm not sure if i want them for a lot of reasons

Do you use sarcasm? of course not, why would i, why would anyone

What’s the first thing you notice about people? in their appearance - eyes and smile, hair too; in character - if they listen to you and ask you questions, if they're calm or aggressive and if they're open-minded

What’s your eye colour? steely blue, like blue but with darker gray

Scary movies or happy endings? happy endings for sure, too traumatized to scare myself for fun

Any special talents? i'm good at making places feel like home? idk... i'm one of those that become easily good at most of the things they try, but it's probably my neurodivergence

What are your hobbies? i started sewing and i rlly enjoy it, writing and creating stories and everything coffee-related

Where were you born? 🇵🇱

Do you have any pets? cats living with my parents (Nala, the love of my life 😿) and now one completely black cat that's my sister's

What sports do you play/have played? used to do swimming, voleyball, martial arts but now.. i just enjoy walking

Favourite subject in school? none? but i miss maths, IT and english tbh

THAT'S IT, the most i've shared on the internet 💀 i deleted the ones that doubled

and i'm tagging jans @parkjiminxfloorpt2 because it's been sooo long and i miss her and doing this 🧡😭

#thanks to rid i came out of my comfy hole 😭#tag game #personal

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nancypullen · 1 year

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Still Making a Home

We’ve been in this house for eight months now and still have a long list of changes that we’d like to make. The kitchen is my number one priority (cabinets and granite), but I’d love to update the bathrooms and rip up the awful carpet on the stairs as well. All in good time, I suppose. It’s been tough to find qualified people with time on their schedules. We were thrilled that we only had to wait three weeks for the new front door. I still get a twitchy eye when I think about the painters and carpet installers from last summer. But waiting for those changes hasn’t kept me from nesting and trying to make our home comfy and pretty. It’s been fun to seek out special pieces or little bits of decor that finish a room, I’m doubly thrilled if it’s old, chippy, and possibly has a story. Last month Mickey surprised me with something that ticked those boxes. Behold...

an old card catalog! Look at that dovetail work. Looks like it was done by hand, not machine.

I’m going to slide some stiff cardstock into these drawers and fill them with everything from paint brushes and ribbon to clay.

I don’t know when the wheels were added, but I love them. I’m guessing someone got their hands on old library stuff and broke it down into pieces like this. It’s a perfectly beautiful little side table for the chair in my art room. Beauty that’s functional! It’s also cat approved. I snapped this last week while I was finishing up our Christmas cards. Molly was snoozing while Phoebe kept watch on the neighborhood.

Isn’t that a nice spot for it? It probably needs a doily on top so I can get comfy in that chair with a good book and a warm beverage. Perfect for a snowy day. I’m crossing my fingers for a lot of those.

Phoebe was probably bird watching in that photo. I have a rocker on the porch and for some reason the little house wrens love to sit on the back of it and sing. I appreciate the concerts, I need more bird song in my life.

That rocker was the first thing I dressed for the season. The day after Thanksgiving I swapped out the pillows.

But this post is about the inside of the house. I’m spending loads of time dithering over the kitchen. My first instinct was to do the cabinets in a creamy color. Not a bright white because this house is “open concept” (I hate that term) and it wouldn’t flow with the rest of the living area if they were a stark, pure white. Creamy colors can tend to pull yellow in the wrong light and I don’t want that either. So I’ve been daydreaming of going crazy with a thyme green or a deep blue-green-gray. I think I’d love it, but I’d have to love it for a long, long time. The color that I can’t get out of my head is Knoxville Gray.

Isn’t it gorgeous?? It’s that blue-green-gray that I love. With our dark floors and a white granite or quartz I think I could love it for a few decades. It’s a lot of color, but I think this rich tone is deep enough that it’s not overpowering. I can see it with pink floral accents and tea towels for the spring and summer months, it’s a perfect backdrop for pumpkins and autumn colors, and in the winter it would look marvelous dressed up with red and icy white. Does it sound like I’m talking myself into it? I think I am. We’re supposed to get serious about the kitchen after the holidays, so I’ll let you know what happens. I’ll bet I have to wait until spring on the cabinets because no one will want to paint them if it’s cold, right? Ugh. Alright, we’ve gone from the adorable card catalog to bird watching to picking paint colors. I obviously had no plan when I started typing. Mickey is upstairs in a photography club Zoom meeting and I’ve already seen the Dateline that’s on, so I thought if I started a blog post something would flow out of my brain and onto this page. Nope, sorry. Time to flip to a Hallmark channel and lose myself in a sweet romance in Christmasvillefieldgroveton. I’m sure the local single mom trying to keep her bakery/inn/farm afloat (who lives in a million dollar home and has a wardrobe to die for) will find love with the city slicker who needs to be reminded of what really matters (hint: it’s Christmas and love). No one gets visited by three ghosts anymore. Hope your evening is cozy and that you’re content. If the joy of the season hasn’t washed over you yet, make your own joy - giving it away is usually the quickest way to find it. Stay safe, stay well.

Nancy

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caelestis-composition · 2 years

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⭒ darkness, darkness everywhere; do you feel alone? ⭒

WOO YEAH. WOO 2AM BRYLUC POSTING. MY SPECIALTY.

sorry its finals week starting tomorrow and ive done five concerts in two weeks with two more this week i needed to write something for myself and they occupy my mind 24/7.

diluc gets jealous and forgets how similar the two of them are.

⭒

pairing: diluc/brynn (oc)

characters: diluc ragnvindr, brynn chanté (oc); mentioned kaeya alberich

genre: hurt/comfort

word count: 994

⭒

A knock cuts through the silence of Diluc’s study, gentle against the heavy wooden door. His head lifts. It’s only midafternoon, judging by the sunlight pouring through the window—he shouldn’t be interrupted til later, unless it was something urgent.

Diluc begins to stand just as the door cracks open, only to sink back into his chair with a sigh of relief when it’s Brynn that peeks her head in. She lights up when she spots him behind his desk.

“Sorry to disturb you,” she says. “I just wanted to tell you I’m leaving to meet up with Kaeya, so I won’t be back until this evening.”

He can’t help the irritation that surges through him at the sound of his brother’s name on her lips. Diluc stiffens, his jaw tightening as an almost-imperceptible scowl finds its way to his face. But Brynn notices—she always notices—her expression softening, ears drooping ever-so-slightly. He feels bad.

It’s a sore subject, her relationship with Kaeya, and one they handle with care. Diluc knows he can’t stop Brynn from remaining friends with his estranged brother—he doesn’t want to stop her, because their friendship makes her happy, and that makes Diluc happy. She’s told him everything the Cavalry Captain had done for her, and he appreciates that, appreciates how good he is to her. But why, of all people, did it have to be Kaeya?

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Diluc.”

The redhead winces at her call. She’s not mad. No, she never gets mad, as much as Diluc thinks he deserves it.

Brynn worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she steps into the room, just enough to close the door behind her. It shuts with a quiet click. She hesitates, eyes averting briefly.

“What happened between you two?”

Her question isn’t much of a surprise, but Diluc freezes anyway. He’s kept her in the dark this long—and so, it seems, has Kaeya—despite the way she silently begs for answers each time something like this happens. She’s been… so good. He figures she deserves to know.

But…

Diluc swallows. “I don’t want to make you late.” It’s a pathetic excuse, he knows. It comes out even weaker than he had thought it would, and he fights the urge to grimace. Across the room, Brynn laughs—though it feels forced, like she’s not sure if she should be laughing.

“Kaeya won’t mind,” she reassures him, her voice soft. Still, Diluc drops his head into his hands, fingertips curling against his forehead. He feels as though he may cry. Brynn’s always been good at seeing right through him; she knows when he’s lying, as convincing as he tries to be. And as determined as she is to wring the truth out of him, Diluc could tell her to leave, and she would. Archons, she’s so good. Too good for someone like him.

She deserves to know.

But.

“I don’t want you to think less of me.”

Diluc has done many things he cannot be proud of. Taken his father’s life. Attacked his brother with the intent to kill. Abandoned his city and his father’s legacy for four years. He’s destructive, snuffed out more lives than he could possibly hope to count, time and time again with the help of a blessing from the Gods. He’s—

He’s kept his partner in the dark.

The feeling of a hand against his back startles him, and only then does Diluc realize he’s trembling. He hadn’t even heard Brynn cross the room, too lost in his own guilt. His wide, crimson eyes find her face—she’s concerned, brows knit, violet and blue eyes shimmering with worry. Her hand slides up, over his shoulder, until it rests against his cheek. Her skin is warm against his, her thumb stroking back and forth just beneath his eye.

For a moment, he sees his own guilt reflected back at him.

“My hands are hardly clean, either, Diluc.” Her voice is barely a whisper. His breath catches.

Right.

So he tells her everything—more than she originally wanted to know, he’s sure. Diluc pulls Brynn down into his lap so he can bury his face against her shoulder, speaking each sin into the crook of her neck. At some point he’d started crying, heaving out sobs between each admission. The entire time, she says nothing; Brynn only reaches up to pet at his hair, her other arm tightening around his shoulders, pulling him closer. It’s hard to stop once he’s started, hard to close the heavy steel gates guarding his heart once they’ve been opened.

Diluc’s unsure of how long he talks, how long they stay crowded on his chair, even when silence settles over the room. He draws away when his breathing almost returns to normal, when he’s not nearly hyperventilating. Brynn makes a quiet sound in the back of her throat, leaning forward to wipe at his drying tears with her sleeve. Gods. What a sorry state he’s in. Diluc makes a mental note to order a new shirt for her, as an apology for sullying the one she’s currently wearing.

Once she’s satisfied, Brynn pulls back. “Alright?” She asks, cocking her head. Diluc glances away, but nods. His hands twitch where they rest against her hips.

“Will—” He clears his throat, hesitating. “Will you stay? With me.” He doesn’t clarify whether he means for the day or in general. Maybe it doesn’t matter—he suspects her answer will be the same, regardless.

Brynn smiles, so warm despite the tears pricking at her own eyes, as she nuzzles her nose against his. “Of course,” she breathes, before she pulls him forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “I love you.” Her words send a burst of color to Diluc’s cheeks, and he struggles to stop himself from hiding his face in her shoulder again. He groans, and this time her laugh is genuine, full as it rings out into his study.

Kaeya can wait until tomorrow.

#diluc #diluc ragnvindr #oc #genshin oc #oc x canon #brynn’s writing #brynn ocs: brynn chanté #bryluc #hurt/comfort #genshin impact oc #my blorbos <3

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if-i-was-a-cucumber · 4 months

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gen 4 is literally on our doorstep

I said it! I’m using proper capitalization and everything. As per how the GMMTV generations tend to go, with 2-3 years per generation, Gen-3 has ended and we are now entering Gen-4. (If you have no idea what I’m talking about and would like to know, see this post.)

Here’s a bunch of patterns I’ve noticed! I’m very much a rambler, though, so there will be a TL;DR at the bottom for anyone who doesn’t like long analyses.

Thailand loves Japan!

Checking out Generation 4 so far has been quite the treat. It seems like, at least so far, Japan has completely dominated the Gen-4 series. Not only did we get Cherry Magic (though it’s technically Gen-3), but we’re also getting My Love Mix-Up! and Ossan’s Love. (There’s High School Frenemy too, which I believe is a School 2013 remake, but that’s Korean, not Japanese.)

The casting of these three Japanese shows makes their attempts pretty clear. I think we’ll be seeing more Japanese series in GMMTV 2024 Part 2, with these three as the opening to make the idea more palatable. After all, we’ve been begging for a new TayNew series since Dark Blue Kiss ended four years ago, GeminiFourth are the biggest thing on the planet right now, and EarthMix have a super reliable history of making smash hit after smash hit (Cupid’s Last Wish not included). Using these three to introduce a wave of remakes just makes sense.

It must be kept in mind, though, that the reception of these series probably isn’t what GMMTV was hoping for. Obviously, Ossan’s Love didn’t do well, as they didn’t even present a trailer or a cast for it. Everyone is excited for My Love Mix-Up!, of course, but the whole team is walking on eggshells. They have to be really, really careful not to screw this one up, because Kieta Hatsukoi is a BL classic. The original actors and color coding did the manga so well that this Thai one is going to start off being compared to the best of the best. Plus, it’s a bit of a taboo to mention, but GeminiFourth haven’t had an acting project in a while since they’ve been doing ultra-popular concerts left and right. At least ten people realized that their acting in the trailer was much worse than in My School President and Moonlight Chicken. I’m sure they won’t start filming until those two have gone to the moon and back in acting classes, but still, it’s something to worry about.

Even with Cherry Magic doing as fantastic as it is, with TayNew’s veteran chemistry and popularity only adding to the gorgeous production, planning, and Japanese incorporation of the show, it comes with a caveat: It was recently taken off YouTube everywhere except for Thailand because of copyright purposes. That puts a whole shadow over the series, and over the audience’s trust in the company to do Japanese series right. It also adds to the growing sense of inadequacy inter-fans have felt for a while from the obvious difference in treatment compared to local fans.

Other stuff!

Well, aside from the new Japanese appreciation, it seems like I was correct in that GMMTV is increasing its experimentation. We’ve already got a new CP, JossGawin, and in the boldest choice for a series ever: a vampire BL. The special effects in the trailer were on crack and everyone seems to be into it, but whether it’s ironic or not I don’t actually know.

On Ploy’s Yearbook, while it seems pretty normal, it actually does a lot to break GMMTV status quo. Earth, Joong, Film, Namtan, and Jimmy, all of whom are in committed CPs, now find themselves tied to straight couples for the series, which isn’t that weird. It’s also a more girl-focused series, which we’re getting a lot more of this generation (Pluto, 23.5 whenever that comes out). But it’s also super bold, like JossGawin’s BL, because of the ship Joong and Film are in. Apparently, they’re adopted siblings, but the romance still flourishes. Very choicey. Last I remember, quasi-incest romance is what completely canceled the Fish Upon the Sky spin-off Star in the Water about Muang Nan and his stepbrother Nuer Kinn, but I suppose it’s a new era??

Ploy’s Yearbook isn’t the only show to break up popular CPs, though. Summer Night kicked its trailer off with a kiss from Dunk and Phuwin, and though it ended up not going anywhere between them, it was still a choice they made. They also finally let Ohm get back into the BL game after the death of OhmNanon, and while Leng is super much very cute and I adore how Ohm forgets how to not smile around him, I do hear that Leng has been receiving a lot of really bad hate messages from OhmNanon fans, which is disgusting.

(On a side note, another pretty bold choice GMMTV may not have even noticed they made was in Kidnap. It’s pretty much the perfect set-up for Stockholm syndrome, but I don’t know if they’ll handle it well. But, I think the director of this series also directed Midnight Museum, which was plenty uncomfortable and dealt with a lot of uncomfortable stuff, so I bet it’s in good hands.)

This isn’t everything I’ve noticed (Wandee Goodday’s treatment and casting, the long-awaited shift from putting 30-year-old OffGun in school uniforms and letting them be actual adults, the new ensemble cast series), but it’s all I wanted to shove in one post.

TL;DR: More remakes of Japanese series coming in the future (though whether they’ll hit, we can’t be sure), and a lot more experimentation in the form of breaking up CPs and bolder/racier topics. Plus, I foresee more GLs, or at least girl-focused series.

#gmmtv bl #gmmtv series #gmmtv24 #meta #we're just looking for patterns man #figure their shit out before they figure it out themselves #gmmtv generations theory #gmmtv generation 4 #pluto actually seems confusing as fuck and i don't think i'll be in love with it #but i'm watching it to support the lesbians #because if we don't make it a gap the series–esque hit you know we're never getting another one #the almost-incest tho…… idk how they're gonna handle that

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alsjeblieft-zeg · 1 year

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306 of 2023

True or False inspired by random posts in my Facebook newsfeed!

Created by joybucket

You've considered becoming a foster parent. Pastel colors are your favorite. You've been to a Hippie Fest. You've never been to a Hippie Fest, but you like the idea of it and wonder if it would be something you'd enjoy. You spent all day today with your favorite person. You often snuck candy into your room as a kid. 🍬 You have two or more siblings. You wear blue-rimmed glasses. (used to) You've given someone bunny ears for a photo. ✌️ You've filmed and uploaded a lot of videos for TikTok. You've contemplated filming a TikTok video, but you haven't done it yet. ....and you're not sure if you're going to. You could really use prayer right now. (Share why if you want, and I will pray for you! 🙏) You own a shirt that has a picture of Snoopy on it. There is a Biggby Coffee shop near you. You think babies are cute. You're happy spring is near! 🌷 You had a banana and oatmeal for breakfast. 🍌 🥣 You like Van Gogh's paintings. You've sat on top of a washing machine. You wish you could lay in your bed all day. You think it would be fun to be a bartender. You've worked as a bartender. You wish time didn't fly by so fast. You have health insurance. Batman is your favorite superhero. 🦇 You enjoy taking pictures of pretty flowers. 💐 📸 You own a pastel pink cardigan sweater. At least one of your friends you went to school with was Asian. You've done a craft project using seashells. 🐚 You're counting down the days until spring. You believe that Jesus is the standard. You know someone who has or who has had multiple sclerosis. (my godfather) You enjoy watercolor painting. 🖼️ You're a Snoopy fan. You're at peace today, because no matter what you're facing, God is with you. 💜 You love cheese. 🧀 You're passionate about helping others reach their health and fitness goals. You've driven a Ford. You're in love with your life right now. You hope you fall in love with being alive again. You've taken pictures of cherry blossoms in the spring. 🌸 You own a sweater with a big giant heart on the front of it. You had eggs for breakfast this morning. 🍳 You've painted a picture of a flower. 🌺 You're friends on Facebook with a Hannah. You enjoy the pretty things in life. 🌸 You have unique parenting methods. You use Snapchat. Some people just make you feel better when you're around them. You've been to Italy. 🇮🇹 You've been to a city called Kalamazoo. You've worked as a henna tattoo artist. You currently have a pet on your lap. You owned a black baby doll as a child. You went to a church service this morning. ⛪️ You've seen a real live flamingo in person. 🦩 You have no plans to take a 21-day course on how to survive singleness. ...and you think it's ridiculous some of the ways people try to make money. Your town has a Dairy Queen. A new fast food joint just opened up in your town. You enjoy using Buy One Get One Free coupons. You love purple flowers. You love the simple things in life. You've planted a garden in your yard. You own something colorful from the brand Natural Life. You think London is a beautiful city. Your nails are painted pink right now. You've recently attended someone's Sweet 16 party. 🎂 You've worked at a hair salon. 💇‍♀️ You love coffee, tea, and treats. ☕️ You've gotten married a second time and left all of your Facebook friends wondering whatever happened to your first husband, since you never announced anything. You've wondered what you would look like as a cartoon character. You enjoy oil painting. You love double bacon cheeseburgers. 🍔 You own a faux succulent. You've made a Facebook profile for your dog. You need a new mattress. You've sent in a postcard to PostSecret. You've had a black and white dog for a pet. You've seen Hanson in concert. You take birth control pills. You've taken a selfie with your dog. 🐶 🤳 Change isn't always a bad thing. You've purchased a donut from a bakery within the past week. 🍩 You've looked up medical information on WebMd. You have an Uncle Joe. You collect rocks. 🪨 (used to) You've seen a pigeon flying around Walmart. 🐦 You can play the guitar. 🎸 You enjoy reading your Bible. 📖 You're a Michigan State fan. You believe you have bipolar disorder. You've been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. You've wondered if you had bipolar disorder. You don't believe that everyone who claims to be bipolar actually is. ....or that everyone who claims to be depressed actually has clinical depression. You've tried macarons. You've made your own macarons. You've made a play driver's license for your pet. 🪪 Slow progress is better than no progress. You've tried to sell something in a Facebook status. You have a toddler. You've had a friend named Stella. You enjoyed this survey.

#survey #bolding survey #random survey

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popentertainmentmusic · 2 years

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BILLY JOEL IN BLACK AND WHITE (2022)

Featuring Billy Joel, Tommy Byrnes and Mark Rivera.

Directed by Steven Cohen.

Distributed by Sony Pictures Home Entertainment. 49 minutes. Not Rated.

Billy Joel has long since given up on being a recording artist – his last pop album was River of Dreams in 1993, and he did also release one classical album called Fantasies & Delusions in 2001.

Now he is known almost entirely as a touring act, doing regular shows around the world and also doing a historic residency at Madison Square Garden once a month since early 2014 (with, of course, a nearly two-year halt due to COVID from March 2020 to October 2021). He’s become a very comfortable showman – not that he wasn’t always. (The first time I personally saw him perform live was at the very tail end of The Stranger tour in 1978 and he was already a natural.)

Billy Joel in Black and White captures a Billy Joel concert which isn’t exactly a Billy Joel concert. This show in Miami was actually sort of a mixture of a show and a seminar, a brief but fascinating look at Joel’s life, his music and his inspirations done with a limited band – Joel on piano and vocals, Tommy Byrnes on guitar and Mark Rivera contributing sax and vocals.

Billy Joel in Black and White almost like one of those old performance shows on MTV (Unplugged) and VH1 (Storytellers), in which an established artist does a short set (49 minutes!) in which he discusses his life and career and shares some lo-fi takes on some of his classic tunes and some covers that are particularly meaningful to him as an artist. And it’s all shot in moody black and white, as the title suggests.

The covers are sometimes things you may expect from Joel (Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer,” Ray Charles’ “Georgia On My Mind” and The Beatles’ “A Day in the Life.”) Others are more unexpected (Procol Harum’s “Whiter Shade of Pale,” Dave Brubeck’s “Blue Rondo a la Turk” and “Take Five,” as well as a very credible piano take on Beethoven’s “Sonata No. 3”). All are well performed, if rather faithful to the originals. Still, it’s interesting to hear Joel’s distinctive voice take on these tunes.

Joel also mines through his back catalogue, picking some of the big hits, but more of the surprising fan favorites. Therefore, lesser remembered tunes like “Zanzibar,” “Baby Grand,” “Root Beer Rag,” “Scenes From an Italian Restaurant” and… of course, since this is filmed in Miami… “Miami 2017 (I’ve Seen the Lights Go Out on Broadway)” make welcome appearances.

Even the hits are sort of surprising, while a sweet run through “Piano Man” hits the spot, other songs like “Allentown,” “The Longest Time” “New York State of Mind” and even “Only the Good Die Young” are far from the obvious picks, and a fine reminder of the depth and range of Joel’s body of work.

The songs are terrific, and the stories are entertaining. Billy Joel in Black and White is time well spent.

Jay S. Jacobs

youtube

#Billy Joel #2022 #Music Videos #Billy Joel in Black & White #Jay S. Jacobs

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asherlockstudy · 3 years

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How to do perfect staging: a lesson from Italy

I mentioned at some point I might actually make a post drooling over Italy's Måneskin performance and staging. I was kinda bored to be honest and decided against it but then all those trashy rumours that try to bring the winners down seemed so disgraceful and embarrassing to me that I decided again to do it. Now, the truth is that their performance was a little better in the semi-final introduction act. Perhaps this was due to the anxiety of the Grand Final. This is why I am going to use photos and gifs from that act and perhaps this will show to some that the perfect package might need a little bit of everything, and not just slap your language on the audience's ears with the expectation that this alone is always enough. *Did I make this too personal?*

Anyway, I digress. And I don’t mean that the Grand Final performance wasn’t still the best of the night, I just mean it wasn’t at the same God Tier level as the semifinal one.

Here's why the Italians took advantage of the Dutch stage until its very last millimeter and way more cleverly than any other country.

This is the only act that starts from the back of the stage, where the singer Damiano David waits for us alone.

Even with the rest of the 25 competing countries, this intro makes you forget that you are watching a contest with 26 countries as guests. Unlike anyone else, Italy looks like the host, like this place belongs to them and the frontman waits for you to show you around and possibly drag you to the world of Måneskin. In fact, you almost forget it’s Eurovision - this now looks like a Måneskin concert or, even better, a more private space of theirs with an ominous industrial feel. One of the most impactful things now is the lighting. Take a look at it. Almost all contestants throw all the lights on themselves or on some important prop they have prepared. The Italians are the only ones who chose to just light the stage itself. The simple white lights on the black stage give the impression of depth and it is the only act which shows emphatically the size of the stage. Why this? Well, we already established that in the first seconds the viewers feel they are in a new space belonging exclusively to Måneskin - the lights make us feel that their area is vast and dark and we are about to be drawn to its depths.

Damiano indeed guides us to the front as he sings, where the rest of the band are on the top of a platform. The other members won’t come down and join Damiano until he sings the appropriate verse “Buona sera, signore e signori” (=Good evening, ladies and gentlemen) and accompany it with a theatrical flamboyant bow (that feels very Italian). That’s when, technically introduced to the audience after the official greeting, bassist Victoria de Angelis and guitarist Thomas Raggi come off the platform and join Damiano.

There’s nothing excessive about the visual effects. Only the use of white lights that give the perception of depth and in the background the big shadows of the group’s silhouettes. They are in the front and they cast their shadows in the back; they create to you a feeling of being trapped by them but do you really want to escape?

When the second verse starts, Victoria and Thomas take the paths left and right of the stage and leave Damiano alone. They take even more advantage of the stage and in a typical classic rock band way. These two play with the side cameras but the focus is more on Damiano, whose verse sounds more like a tongue-twister. Since the cameras are rightfully on Damiano, I must now address the elephant in the room. Damiano is particularly attractive. In fact, the whole band is almost mind-bogglingly attractive and they clearly take a lot of care about how exactly they are going to look but Damiano, as the frontman, does especially so. So let’s talk about the outfit. They all have essentially the same outfit, however it is cut differently for each based on the person’s looks and personality. Isn’t it fantastic?

Damiano, who oozes confidence and sex appeal, has accordingly the most “provocative” outfit of the four. His chest and arms are bare so that his many tattoos can be seen. I’ll talk about the other outfits later as they all have their place in the... uh... white lights.

During the second chorus Victoria and Thomas return at the center and after the chorus it is time for the first solo; Victoria’s. The cameras are now on her but the lighting remains modest to accentuate the dark beat of her bass.

Victoria is the only girl of the group and the most dressed of them all - how refreshing! Her outfit is more similar to Thomas but she is buttoned up in the front. How does she wish to underscore her uniqueness as the woman of the band? But of course, with long flamboyant girly sleeves that come to delicious contrast with her aggressive stomping and her wide strides. Both her hairstyle and her outfit is inspired or basically just outright 70′s classic rock look.

It’s time for the bridge of the song right after her solo and Damiano has his attention on her and also draws the viewer’s attention to her some more. This part of the song is lower and softer - in relative terms - that’s why Damiano “chooses” her to sing it to. The lights now turn red, the intensity rises but there’s light flirtatiousness between them, with many smiles to each other and the camera that turns around them as they launch at each other playfully.

Then the song gets darker, more intense, the guitar stronger than the bass and Damiano’s voice turns to a scream. For this part, he turns to his bro, guitarist Thomas and he now draws the attention to him.

He grabs Thomas by the neck in an intense, intimate way (that doesn’t mean sexual, just intimate. His interaction with Victoria wasn’t sexual either). It is clear that through different ways Måneskin want to stress how good and close their relations are and that their singer, who is apparently a show stealer by birth, wants to ensure that they all get equal amount of attention from their audience. I love this.

True enough, nobody is left behind! The last chorus starts with a drums solo and Damiano goes up to the platform to now meet and introduce to us Ethan Torchio. Ethan stands up and his giant shadow is on the now blue background: this is the moment for the - so I hear - somewhat shy drummer to shine in his own aesthetic. The Italians leave none of their assets to fall down and Ethan’s impressive hair rightfully steals the show.

Just like Victoria and Thomas look alike, so do Ethan and Damiano, that’s why their costumes are the most similar. Ethan has a vest that covers him more than Damiano but leaves his arms bare. Because whose else the arms do you need to see if not the drummer’s?

This song has something peculiar because it was not a song originally written for Eurovision; it slows down in the end and does not end on some impressive note from the singer as usual but with the last solo we expect, that of the guitarist, because everything is fair in Måneskin! The focus has to leave Damiano, so now it’s the time for the visual effects to finally catch fire, literally, because nobody is allowed to take their eyes off them! Måneskin use a huge amount of pyro that however feels appropriate for the intense chorus and the ending guitar solo.

Thomas steps up for his solo and I forget we are in 2021. This is the most 70s thing I would ever hope to see.

In a hell of pyro, Thomas looks like he was tranferred right from a 70s rock ‘n roll concert. His outfit would be gladly taken by Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones. The unbuttoned jacket with this boho tie, such a classic 70s fashion touch. His haircut and even his FACE are the epitome of the 70s - what an ending sequence!

But hey we reached the end and this is Eurovision, the song slows down dangerously. Like I said, the Italians forbid us to get distracted. The attention must return to Damiano ASAP. Damiano says one last line and takes the audience with him to the very end with a death drop.

There you have it. Måneskin had me holding my breath for the full three minutes and I did not want to take my eyes off my TV. There are countless shows that are awesome - in this very Eurovision as well - but I was impressed by how they seemed to have found the perfect balance for everything in every single moment. They found the perfect stage concept for the song, they relied on visual effects only when they needed them and they stressed every twist and turn of their sound with a perfectly fitting move or interaction. They also all effortlessly could hold your attention and they made sure that they all would, with members often helping bring out other members. This performance was beautiful and, above all, clever which is why it was undoubtedly the worthiest of the win.

#eurovision #eurovision 2021 #esc 2021 #eurovision song contest #italy #italy 2021 #maneskin #damiano david #victoria de angelis #ethan torchio #thomas raggi #music #songs #zitti e buoni #flashing tw #more

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kiridarling · 3 years

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𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐄

d.kaminari and h.sero | f!reader + corruption + weed/shotguning + praise + threesome + more! minors dni!

— 3.6k words

"I knew I wanted you the second I saw you."

Denki’s addicted to the pre-concert high.

His veins hum with a song that has yet to start, fingers drumming some mixed beat on the body of his electric guitar as he assumes his place on the dark stage. The theater’s dead silent, the room suspended in a titilating anticipation—and the steady rhythm Denki's heart dissapates into chaos when the faint crack of Eijirou's drumsticks bounce off the walls, and the click in his earpiece begins.

Eijirou hits the kick drum once. Twice. Then his hands fly across the set in a flurry, the rolling beat echoing into the packed arena and spurring the crowd to explode, fans flying to their feet to render their vocal cords for the night.

As the other instruments fill the blank space, Denki's hand grips the back of his guitar's neck, on hold for his solo, and by the time the electric blond steps up to the mic, pavlov's theory has already kicked in overdrive.

"Who’s ready to feel good tonight?”

“Dude, I’m on fucking fire!” Denki vibrates, nearly glowing in comparison to his bandmates as they sift through a flurry of fans at a meet and greet. It always seems like Denki and Eijirou are the only ones with energy after a good show—but what can he say? Being on stage lights him up like a live wire.

"You said that last concert, buddy," Hanta snorts, before his a fan ran sacks his attention by shoving a tiara into his hairline.

"And? My point still stan—" Denki cuts himself off with a gasp as a bra slings across his face, followed by a burst of pain when the metal hits him in the cheek. He peels the lacy thing off with an eye on the audience and an eyebrow raised in question, unsure of what to do with the undergarment (other than put it on) until someone screams:

“Sign it!”

Denki shrugs and pops the Sharpie cap with his teeth to sign the crest of both cups before flinging it back into the audience—he can only pray it pinpoints its rightful owner before the meet and greet ends.

Katsuki clicks his tongue (because he hates these events) and as the next round of fans lineup in front of their table, Eijirou stretches like this is a sport, saying, “Guess it’s go-time.”

"Go-time is when we perform," Katsuki grumbles in the seat to Denki’s right. "Go-time is when we're in the studio makin' a goddamn album, not meeting crazy fuckin' fans—no, I’m not gonna marry you, you obsessed fuckin—“

“Oh, you're just salty you're not popular with the ladies~“ Denki gushes, wiggling his eyebrows, and a fan hands him a canvas the size of his upper body. “Un—oh wow, did you make this for me—Unlike me, of course.”

"Okay, pretty boy." Hanta rolls his eyes, before signing a phone case and returning it to an overzealous fan. With a hand covering his mouth, he whispers, “Can you believe this guy? So full of himself, I swear.”

The fan giggles and Hanta meets the blushing cheeks with a satisfied smirk. Denki huffs from the disrespect, crossing both arms over his chest. “Full of myself? It’s not my fault I’m sexy—*an autograph? Of course!"

Katsuki chuckles, scratching under his chin with ink blue fingertips, "Call yourself sexy one more fuckin’ time and I'm projectile vomiti—no, I'm not signing your tits, give me a goddamn paper or somethin—"

"What?” Denki scoffs, chest collapsing with the disbelief that one could make such a lie. “I'm literally the definition of I'm sexy and I kno—"

"Um, excuse me?"

His gesticulations freeze at the passive voice, arms stretched wide and to the sky, and Denki knows he has to look absolutely ridiculous as he blinks down at the next person in-line; who's stood with bambi eyes and such a sweet smile the electric blond thinks it might make him sick.

"I-I'm your biggest fan! Could you—um, please sign this for me?"

She comes alive, shoving a poster into his chest with pink cheeks and shifty irises. Out of all the bras, all the breasts he's been asked to sign today, and here you are, with your pocket-sized poster and your lamb countenance. Denki beams.

"Of course, Sweetness! What's your name?"

"[Y/N]!" you say, giggling, and it's so. Cute. Denki opens the Sharpie and struggles to focus on signing instead of your gorgeous fucking face.

"Anything specific you'd like me to say?"

And he knows there's a rule—there always are when it comes to these things, and it's simple: don't fuck the fans. As tempting as it is, don't invite them back to your hotel room because there are too many uncertainties, and if something leaks to the press that’s possibly career ending, that’s it. So, Denki holds his tongue. For the future of himself and the band.

"Uhm, just write what you want! I...I think I'd like it best if it was authentic and came straight from you, so."

Fuck. Of course she does.

And maybe Denki just can't help it when he leans down to speak, perhaps a little lower, "You want something more authentic, cutie?"

You light up like a kid on Christmas, gasping, "Yes please Mr. Kaminari!"

So eager, too.

"Awe, you can call me Denki if you'd like," he coos, and you nod so quickly he starts to worry about whiplash. "Meet me out back, in the alley behind the venue if you wanna get to know me better. Sound like a deal?”

"O-Okay!" You nod, and when he returns your sign you grip it tight between both hands. "I'll um, see you soon Mr. Kami—I mean, D-Denki!"

You flush from the mix up and bow in apology, and Denki knows he's made the right choice when you light up, indicating you have no idea what he meant at all.

"Row row row your boat, gently down the stream," you hum, sniffling. You’re unsure if your nose is running, it's too frozen to tell, and it has you patting to confirm it’s presence. With your hands stuffed in your pockets and a jacket wrapped tight around your body, you'd think you'd be warm, but no.

The alley is dark. It's dank enough that you can smell it and you're positive what you're dancing in is vomit, but none the matter—today, you met your favorite band. Literally the people you'd die for.

"Merrily, merrily," kicking the loose rocks in the gravel every which way, you enjoy the sound of them scattering against the surrounding brick walls. "Merrily, merrily..."

"Life is but a dream," a voice finishes, a yelp rips from your throat and you jump twenty feet in alarm. But you’d know that voice anywhere; Denki chuckles at your reaction and it has you recoiling with timidity, unprepared for the surprised audience. "You have a lovely voice, Cutie. You should use it more often."

"I..." but you're not exactly sure what to say to that, knowing Denki's heard so many professional voices in his career to last a lifetime, and yet yours is lovely. "T-Thank you."

Denki watches your reaction with a hum and a smile, his visible breath escaping between the slit of his lips and into the cool air.

"Of course, Cutie."

Another voice sighs, shattering the friction that fills your gut when Denki gives you that look. You're not sure what to call it, but it makes you shiver, and that's enough to make you to run and hide.

"...Denki, who's this?"

"Um," the blond places his frozen hands in his pockets and swivels his head around to Hanta, guilty written all over his face. "A fan?"

Hanta sighs again, head tilting to the right in exhausperation, “Denki—"

"I know, I know," the electric blond sighs, waving him off. "But it's fine as long as we don't get caught, right?"

Hanta's black hair threatens to fall into his face so he combs through it, and you try not to drool at the sight of his bicep flexing. "Yeah, until we get caught."

A honk blares and it has you shrieking, to reveal a parked tour bus in the alley once the lights flicker on. Denki points the car keys at the vehicle and the doors swing open. "Awe c'mon, don't be a sour puss. It's a one-time thing, alright?"

Hanta's eyes narrow into slits.

"Seriously, dude! I'm a man of my word! On God."

The noirette's shoulders sag, but he waltzes around both of you to get on the bus. Over his shoulder, he warns, "Denki I swear to fucking god—"

"I'll be careful, I'll be careful~" he singsongs, hopping onto the stairs after the pianist. When Denki notices not you're not moving, he stills at the top step. "You coming, [Y/N]?"

"O-Oh, am I um, am I allowed?" You ask, biting your cheek at the thought of what Hanta just said as you peer around the electric blond’s body. Denki snorts, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, you're allowed," he exits the bus, only to tug you on via your collar. "Now c'mon! Let's have some fun, yeah?"

"Okay!"

Denki steers you through the bus and into a space that looks a bit like a living room, with a couch, tv, and a makeshift kitchen in the corner. Following Denki to the kitchen, you look around.

"Where are Kirishima and Bakugou?"

"Out drinking," Denki tosses, flicking open a RedBull. You wonder if this is always the post-concert routine. Hanta fiddles in with something on the couch, but he still has yet to look you in the eyes tonight, even when you ask him:

"What are you doing?"

It seems he didn't realize you’ve relocated from the kitchen to the couch next to him from the noirette nearly jumps. The green stuff in his fingers crumbles, and you scrunch your nose at the smell.

"It stinks," you add. Denki snorts, jumping onto the cushion to your right. There isn’t a whole lot of room and his addition causes your shoulders to slush between the two of them, but it’s strangely comfortable.

"It's weed," he explains like it's obvious. "You smoke, Cutie?"

"Obviously not," you and Hanta say at the same time. You turn his way, and for the first time that night, Hanta looks you in the eyes—and it's a smile, with his eyes crinkling in the corners, but there's...something else. Something else hidden behind the thinnest veil that makes you cower, if ever so slightly.

Something feral.

Denki, unaware of the crushing grip your hand has around your thigh, huffs, and tosses the energy drink down his gullet, "It was a genuine question! Geez."

"What are you doing?" You ask again, and the electric blond whimpers from being ignored.

"Rolling a joint," he utters, lifting the paper to his lips to lick the length. You watch, semi-disgusted, as Hanta finally folds over the last bit of paper around the crest of the joint, gluing it together.

"Know what a joint is?" The noirette implores.

"Yeah," you breathe, shifting at the new closeness Denki provides when you feel his chest against your back. "My roommate smokes, so."

Hanta taps it on a tray, or what Denki describes as "packing it down," before twisting the tip and tossing it back onto the tray in conclusion. Denki cheers.

"Aha! The joint-rolling master has blessed us! Everyone say thank you, joint-rolling master."

"Thank you, joint-rolling master!" You giggle when Hanta's face turns a ruddy red. He reaches over to pop Denki upside the head. Denki gasps, before lunging to return the favor, and you squeal from being jostled between two men.

"Okay," when Denki returns to his seat he's panting and so is the noirette. He picks the joint off the tray and though there isn't much room, turns so he's facing you, your legs smushed against his body indian style. "You ready, Cutie?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," you huff, swinging your arms in preparation despite the lack of space. Just in case.

Hanta snorts, holding the joint to your lips, and Denki raises the lighter and raises it to the end until it's hot enough to burn on its own.

“Now suck."

You do, cheeks puffing, and you blow the smoke straight in Denki's face. It's...a lot.

"Not quite," Hanta chuckles, and flips you via the waist so you're facing him. Denki whines from the change but finds solace in hooking his chin over your shoulder. "Suck, and then inhale. Act like it's a big breath—you gotta hold it in your lungs for a sec."

"Okay," you assert with a nod, eyes burning with a new determination. When Hanta holds it to your lips, you suck and inhale, and start coughing your throat raw, in a flurry of smoke and tears, eyes watering and nose burning. You scramble for water, but by the time you get some, the only thing that's left to soothe is a sore throat.

"Here," Denki offers, grabbing the joint before flipping you his way again. "Take smaller hits, like this."

Denki's mouth wraps around the tip and smoke pours from his lips so smoothly you're determined to do the same. With a raised eyebrow, he passes it back to you, and though it takes a moment, you try again.

The back of your throat tingles but the glide is much smoother, and you find that it doesn't burn on your next exhale. So you do it again. And again. And agai—

"Okay," Hanta picks the joint from your fingers with a click of his tongue, before taking a hit himself. You frown, making grabby hands.

"Hey, wai—"

"Nu-uh," he tuts, pushing you down by your forehead. "You'll feel it soon enough, trust me."

You whine, crossing your arms over your chest. Hanta gives you nothing but a raised eyebrow as he takes another hit, and you're convinced it's to taunt you. "I'm not eve—"

But then the world blurs, a bit, and your legs hum in a way they haven't before; it's warm and it's nice, and it has you blinking down at your hands in bewilderment. Whoa.

"And there she goes," Denki announces, and somehow seized the joint from the noirette when you weren't looking. Your mouth drops to say something, but all you can produce is a light giggle before it melts into a guffaw that only comes straight from the gut, your hands trying to soothe your cramping belly. Tears come to your eyes fairly easily, and when Hanta asks if you're okay he sounds like he's underwater, and that's enough to send you flying through another fit of laughs.

"I—y-yeah, I'm just—just fine," you snort behind a hand, chest spasming as you finally gather yourself enough to calm down. "I'm good. Mhm."

"Yep. Totally fine," Hanta says, but something in his tone suggests he doesn't believe you at all.

You nod, biting your bottom lip to avoid another laugh attack with your hands bunching the bottom of your shirt for extra purchase. Hanta narrows his eyes while taking another hit, so you sock him in the shoulder with a huff. "Stop looking at me like that."

The noirette snorts, "Like what?"

"Like..." you start strong, but falter under his eyes. "Like you want to eat me."

Hanta hums at the comment but says nothing, and you're not sure if your mind fabricated the quick look he gives the electric blond sat behind you. Denki speaks first.

"Do you know what shotgunning is, [Y/N]?"

You frown, "Like a shotgun?"

"So no," Hanta answers for you.

"Here," Denki offers, turning you again. Plucking the nub of a joint from the noirette, he takes a big hit before picking your face up by the jaw and hovering your lips over yours. You're not sure what to do, but once your lips connect, smoke fills your lungs, and you don't exhale until Denki pulls away. You blink, a little dazed.

You just kissed Denki Kaminari.

"Feel good?" He asks, never leaving your personal space. You nod, and he grins. "Wanna do it again?"

Your hands fist his shirt, teeth tearing the inside of your cheek due to the amount of embarrassment this question encourages. "I wan—can we do it again but without the um...without the smoke?"

Denki's hands find your hips and it's hard for him to contain a sly smirk, biting his lips to move in on his prey.

"I knew I waned you the second I saw you."

Denki's lips feel much better when he puts a little weight into the kiss, pinning you between him and the noirette. You're not exactly sure what you're doing but he takes the lead, titling his head and kissing harder, rougher, so your lips are pink and swollen by the time he pulls away.

"A-Another," you whimper, tightening your grip around his tee.

Denki hums in contemplation, picking your head up by your chin. "Ask nicely, Cutie."

Flushing deeper, your eyes dart to the coffee table.

“Another, please."

"Good girl," Denki coos, and he's propping you up against Hanta's chest. You shiver at the comment, finding purchase on Hanta's thighs as Denki kisses you on the lips again. "Wanna feel even better?"

"Yes," you nod vehemently. "Yes please."

Denki hums at that, climbing down your body as his hands glide from your waist to the band of your pants. You frown, "What—What are you doing?"

"Eating you out, Cutie," the electric blond says, hands freezing once his thumbs dip under your waistband. "That okay?"

"Oh okay," you breathe, relaxing against Hanta's chest. "Y-Yeah, that's fine."

Denki rips your pants off at that, tossing them towards the corner of the room and ultimately, to a place you'll probably never find them. Pushing your panties to the side, he licks his lips at the sight of your pussy, and flicks your clit with a smirk. You jump.

"H-Hey, that's not—"

He flattens his tongue against your slit and chuckles when you shudder, and after tossing both of your legs over his shoulders. You're not sure what he does after that though, because Hanta picks your face up by the chin and presses his lips to yours.

Denki slides a finger inside and you squeal against Hanta's chapped lips. You hear the electric blond moan, readjusting himself between your thighs, before you finally peel your lips off the noirette's, chest having from lack of oxygen.

"Such a pretty pussy, Baby," Denki gushes before his warm lips fold around your clit and he sucks, humming in surprise when you buck against his mouth. Hanta hooks his chin around your shoulder with a second joint dangling between his lips—and where it came from is beyond you.

Once he exhales, the joint finds its way between your lips and he instructs you to inhale, and the head rush afterwards has you digging your head into his chest.

"You're so wet, holy shit," Denki pulls away, lips strawberry pink and glossed with slick as he trades his both for his thumb and inserting another finger. It crooks just right and that's enough to make your hips buck, nails carving crescents in Hanta's thighs.

“T-There,” you whimper, wiggling your hips again, and Denki grins, thumb pressing into your clit. Your thighs quiver with the strain it takes to hold them back and Hanta’s calloused hands skip to your waist after dropping the burning joint off in the tray.

“Pull his hair,” the noirette commands, but you hesitate, hands glued to his thighs. Hanta sighs, reaching over you to tug for himself.

“Mph—fuck!” Denki’s eyelids flutter as he moans into your pussy with a new passion, his hands wrapping around your thighs to hold you in place. You gasp at his reaction, fingers scrambling under Hanta’s own to thread through his electric blond hair.

“Move your hips—grind against his face, c’mon,” Hanta’s grip tightens around your waist as he offers the suggestion, and you whimper with a nod before your bucking into Denki’s mouth without abandon. As the noirette trails butterfly kisses up the column of your neck, the coil in your gut snaps, and you barely have time to squeak out a warning before you’re flooding Denki’s mouth.

“Good girl...ride it out—there you go,” Hanta coos, biting your ear. You shiver as Denki pulls away with a final (and obscene) slurp, grinning like he didn’t just shatter you to pieces with nothing but his tongue and fingers.

Denki’s lips are on yours in a blink—you moan, legs still buzzing from the afterglow as you weakly grope for the small hairs on the back of his neck.

“Taste good, don’t ya?” He says with a click of a tongue after pulling away.

“I guess so,” you flush, the humiliation from so shamelessly digging your heels into Denki’s back finally settling in. Hanta reaches under your arm for Denki’s chin.

“What? Want a taste too?” The electric blond giggles, wiggling his eyebrows. Hanta snorts.

“If you could be so kind.”

Denki hums at that, placing a hand on your inner thigh for balance as he slams his lips on the noirette’s for the first time that night. He dives straight for the kill, tongue and teeth and everything, and Denki moas when Hanta’s teeth sink into his bottom lip; you find that you like it a lot.

Though eventually you tired of watching, and press the heel of your hand on Hanta’s hard cock through the fabric of his jeans. The pianist hisses, and you grin—you’ve got their attention now.

“Whoa Sweetheart, what are y—“

“I...I want more,” you assert despite the tremor in your voice. Hanta raises an eyebrow in question which has you pressing harder in hopes he’ll cave just as easily as before. Just in case, you add, “Please.”

Denki redirects your attention by squishing your cheeks until you’re looking him in the eyes. With dark eyes, he says, “You sure you want more, Cutie?”

You nod despite the restriction, “Wanna...wanna get to know you better.”

You watch Denki’s pupils dialate at that, and he can’t even hold back a groan when he says:

“Gods, Baby. We’re going to ruin you.”

unpopular opinion: bakugou's the bassist and kirishima's the drummer. fight me.

not me projecting 12yo sun's fantasy of getting railed in the tour bus by 5sos um—

#— 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐊𝐈 #— 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀 #kaminari smut #sero smut #kaminari x reader #sero x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction

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