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helloalycia · 3 years

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just a kid [one] // wanda maximoff

summary: you're a field medic at the Avengers Tower and get into an accident where you hurt your head. It was only supposed to be a mild concussion, yet things don't seem to be going right when you try to remember the accident.

warning/s: mentions of violent/dark scenes.

author's note: here’s the first of a little two-parter I worked on not long ago, hope you all like it!

part two | masterlist | wattpad

I woke up with heavy eyes and an aching head, momentarily dazed.

"Hey there, Doctor Y/L/N... can you hear me okay?"

Breathing deeply, I found the energy to clear my throat and scan the view above me. I was laying down on a bed, in a hospital room, I think. The lights were ever so bright and I now knew how annoying it felt to wake up like this as my patients had.

"What happened?" I asked, eyes roaming around until they settled on my doctor. "Doctor Maya? What am I–? Why am I here?"

I recognised Doctor Maya as a colleague of mine, though unlike me, she was a doctor who worked at the Avengers Tower whereas I worked as a field medic so was more on the move. The only reason I'd be here is if I was in an accident. Was I? I wasn't sure.

"Something happened when you were on your last mission," she explained gently. "I– hold on. I'm going to get Miss Maximoff, okay?"

"Wanda?" I asked, furrowing my brows and pinching them to relieve the stress in my head. "Where is she? Is she here?"

"She just nipped out," Doctor Maya said, before backing up. "One second, Y/N."

She left the room momentarily, leaving me to try and remember what had happened. I was on the quinjet and was getting briefed with my team. There were casualties that we had to get to and an agent– an agent I was helping, yes!

I groaned, clutching my head when I tried to remember. Deciding I shouldn't push myself so soon, I waited until the doctor returned with Wanda. Maybe they could tell me how I ended up here. I wasn't exactly injured, at least not physically and that I knew of. My head hurt and that was about it.

The door to my room opened suddenly and I looked that way, seeing Wanda rushing in wearing her civilian clothing. The doctor followed soon after, gently closing the door behind her.

"You're awake," Wanda said with relief, stopping by my bedside. Her hand rested on mine, squeezing it comfortingly. "How are you feeling?"

I smiled upon seeing her, even if she was staring at me like I was a fragile piece of glass. We'd been dating for a while now and she always had the power to make me feel better with her presence.

"I'm alright," I promised. "Just a bit confused to what happened. The last thing I remember is going into the field. Then I woke up here."

She chewed on her lower lip, exchanging unreadable glances with the doctor.

"There was a mine that detonated near you when you were helping an injured agent," Wanda explained softly, and I opened my mouth to speak, but she quickly added, "The agent is okay before you ask. But you hit your head from the impact. Mild concussion."

"That's why your head hurts and you're having trouble remembering," the doctor said, earning my attention. "You should be feeling better soon. And I've got some medication for the pain."

Now that Wanda mentioned it, I did vaguely recall being thrown back by a blast. But remembering it was like watching a film with poor satellite, the screen fuzzing around the edges and remaining unclear even though you focused hard. I was sure it would return to me soon.

"Thanks," I said, before attempting to sit up straight. Wanda helped me as I looked to her with gratitude before paying my attention back to Doctor Maya. "Am I alright to leave?"

"Of course, yeah," she said, nodding quickly. "Feel free to come back if you have any trouble. You should be okay though."

I nodded and smiled gratefully before watching her leave. Sighing, I pushed my hair from my face and looked to Wanda who was hanging by me patiently, eyes twinkling with concern.

"I'm fine," I promised her with a knowing look.

She gave me a small smile – her way of saying I'm still worried, but I'll dial it down – then moved to the chair beside the bed and grabbed some clothes.

"You can change into this," she said about the clothes in her hand, and I was sure they were some of hers; mine must have been ruined from the mine. "And if you want, you can stay with me whilst you recover."

I raised my eyebrows as I accepted the clothes. "You sure? It's nothing serious. I can take care of myself."

She shrugged, eyes avoiding mine with embarrassment as her hands played with mine. "I wanna help. I like looking after you... plus, you've stayed at mine before. This isn't any different. And you can be closer to Doctor Maya in case anything is wrong."

I weighed the decision briefly before giving in, unable to resist how cute she was when she was worried. "Okay, yeah, sure, why not?" She smiled widely, and I added, "Any excuse to cuddle with you, right?"

She chuckled. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Just let me get ready and we can head to your room. I'm actually a little tired."

She nodded and helped me up so I could get ready. I didn't think much of the whole thing, until later that night when I fell asleep beside Wanda.

My dreams never usually meant much. I wasn't one for reading into them, nor was I one to get seriously affected by 'nightmares', knowing they were usually a concoction of bad horror films and stupid ghost stories from my childhood.

But tonight was different.

It wasn't a dream and it wasn't a nightmare, but rather a memory that couldn't exist.

There was debris everywhere, a mixture of yellow rays blinding my sight with dark shadows looming over me. Destroyed buildings and scattered bodies – none were alive – surrounded me. The heat was too much, but I had a job. I knew I had a job, but I couldn't focus because of how fast my heart was racing, beating an incessant drum in my ears, and how rigid my body felt.

"Help!" a voice was shouting. A young girl, I think – she sounded like a kid. Who was it?

Before I could make sense of anything, I heard a loud noise, like an explosion, that sounded so close yet also extremely distant. Nonetheless, my eardrums weren't spared. The mine, maybe? Was this a memory? Was this how I got hurt?

I was thrown back, head hitting a wall, but I didn't pass out. There was a figure looming over me, short, like a child's shadow, but with no visible face or features. Nothing, actually, just a dark outline staring at me though I couldn't stare back because there was nothing to stare at.

The shouts for help returned, but it was distant like the explosion. I couldn't make sense of anything, and when I closed my eyes to blink, I opened them to find debris washing over me all over again, flying in the air along with my body. It had to be the explosion, my memory returning.

This time, when I hit the wall, I woke with a start. My eyes snapped open, taking in the dark room and nightly blue hue casting over the ceiling and walls. I swallowed hard, finding my breath, and raised my hand to gently massage my forehead. An aching pain was shooting all over, forcing me to sit up as slowly as I could as to not wake up Wanda, who appeared to be fast asleep beside me.

I checked the clock beside her bed and saw it was closing on half three in the morning. I went to bed around nine, which was also when I last had my medication. Doctor Maya said I could have it every five to seven hours and when I got a severe headache.

"I guess this counts...," I mumbled to myself, before grabbing the medication and bottle of water beside the clock.

I downed the two tablets within seconds before sitting upright for a few more minutes, needing a moment to myself before attempting to get back to sleep.

"Y/N...? Are you up?"

I winced at the sound of Wanda's groggy voice, immediately feeling bad for waking her. I turned around and saw her rubbing her eyes with one hand whilst blinking away her fatigue.

"Just have a headache, don't worry," I reassured quietly, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. "You can go back to sleep."

"Do you need me to get you anything?" she asked, finally able to keep her eyes open long enough to meet my gaze with her cloudy green ones.

I smiled through my exhaustion. "I'm okay, love. I've had some medicine."

"Well, I can get you something to–" she began, trying to make a move to sit up, but I pushed her back down gently.

"I'm okay," I repeated sternly, before slipping back into bed beside her. Wrapping an arm around her torso, I said, "Get back to sleep."

She nodded tiredly, getting comfortable and pulling me closer to her. I felt her arm wrap around me as I snuggled closer, relaxing in her embrace.

"Wake me if something is wrong," she mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Goodnight. I love you."

"I love you, too," I returned, kissing the closest thing to me which was her chest. "Goodnight."

Admittedly, it was still difficult for me to fall back asleep. It must have been no longer than ten minutes when I heard Wanda's breathing and felt the gentle rise and fall of her chest beneath me – she'd fallen back asleep. I sighed, slightly jealous, but stayed close to her and tried not to think about my accident or my weird dream/nightmare. Eventually, slumber found me.

The next morning, I didn't exactly feel well-rested, but I didn't want to concern Wanda nor draw attention to it as I knew it was probably just a rough first night. Instead, I let myself get distracted with Wanda wanting to cook me breakfast.

I soon found myself in the kitchen, sitting at the island and watching Wanda cook some pancakes for us both with an endearing smile on my lips. She was still in her pyjamas like me, her red hair pulled into a messy ponytail as an afterthought, and she radiated beauty. Right there, I could only wish my future looked exactly like this.

My moment of admiration was interrupted when someone came into the kitchen, earning our attention. It was Sam, one of the Avengers and a colleague of Wanda's.

"Good morning, ladies," he greeted with a smile. Already dressed for the day ahead, he asked, "Do I smell pancakes?"

"They're for Y/N, so back off," Wanda said playfully, pointing her spatula at him threateningly.

He raised his hands with defeat as I chuckled.

"Relax, I've got a shake," he said, grabbing said protein shake from the fridge. "Enjoy your pancakes." He glanced to me, expression softening as he added, "And I hope you feel better, Y/N. I heard about your accident."

"Thank you, Sam," I said gratefully, noticing the way Wanda flinched at his words. "I'm already feeling better, so..."

"That's great," he said genuinely, before looking between us. "I'll catch you guys later."

We both waved our goodbyes to him as he left. I wanted to question what was up with Wanda just then, but as Sam left the kitchen, the door slammed shut and startled me more than I thought it would. The noise sounded so familiar, so loud, kind of like what I heard last night in my dream. It must have been the mine when it exploded, a ghost of a memory that was returning. But that didn't seem right. Why didn't that seem right?

"Hey, Y/N, you okay?" Wanda asked, and I looked up, only to notice she was now standing by my side and looking down at me with concern.

I licked my lips, nodding. "Yeah, sorry, I just... yeah. I'm fine."

Her eyes were swimming with doubt, but she chose to say nothing. Instead, to my relief, she pulled me close, giving me a quick hug which I appreciated. As my head rested against her chest, I tried to ignore the familiar striking pain travelling around my forehead.

—

It was two nights later when another strange dream plagued my sleep. Similar to last time, there was a strange combination of scenes that I was sure I remembered and scenes that made no sense. This time though, all that I could feel was a tenseness in my whole body, like I was in a frozen state and my mind and body couldn't communicate. I couldn't move, paralysed by... fear? Shock? Disbelief? I didn't know what it was, but I woke up in the same way.

I'd heard of sleep paralysis, even experienced it a few times without realising. I think this was one of those times, with my body frozen in bed beside Wanda, but I didn't know it at the time. It just felt like a horribly-real dream. The room was dark, the familiar, yet unsettling, nightly blue hue casting shadows on the wall. But on the ceiling, bright and terrifying scenes played out before me. An explosion. Debris. Screaming.

None of it made sense and all I could feel was shock, horrified at how I couldn't move a muscle even if I tried. I tilted my head, seeing the alarm clock glowing red in the dark, letting me know it was past midnight. To the left, I saw a sleeping Wanda, lost in her dreams and unable to help me. I wanted to get up, run my hands over my face, have some water, open a window, do something. But I couldn't move. All I could do was watch the nightmare dance across the ceiling as my heart struggled to beat regularly and my lungs struggled to get enough oxygen.

I didn't know how long I was stuck like that, tears brimming my eyes and body paralysed with fear. But it finally ended and I opened my eyes, only to find the ceiling blank and myself able to move. Reluctantly, I lifted my hand, wiping the tears from my cheeks. It was just a dream (or form of sleep paralysis in hindsight). It wasn't real. But God, it felt horribly terrifying.

Admittedly, I was scared to go back to sleep for fear it would occur again. So, my eyes stayed wide awake, burning with exhaustion, and I continued to stare at the shadows on the wall, feeling my heart pounding in my ears.

I must have fallen asleep again at some point, as I woke up the next morning to Wanda getting out of bed. Sitting up in bed, I looked around and found the fear of last night wearing off now that the room was bathed in the morning light. Still, I was more shaken than I thought.

Not wanting to draw attention to it though, I let the day go on as usual, deciding to appreciate the free time I had from work to spend with Wanda. We decided to go to the park for a walk – Wanda thought it would help get me out of the Tower and I was hoping the fresh air would give me some clarity and help me to recover.

Only, it did the opposite.

We were walking hand in hand, myself listening to Wanda as she chatted about something that happened in training. If I'm being honest, I wasn't really listening; my thoughts were preoccupied with the jumbled mess that was my mind. Glimpses of memories were dancing across my head, teasing me with elements of the truth I couldn't quite make out.

My eyes drifted around mindlessly, settling on a little girl playing by the swings with her parents. I didn't think much of it, but then the familiar shouts for help from my nightmare plagued my mind, making me flinch. The dark, looming shadow returned and I suddenly felt a headache coming on, the pressure against my brain making me nauseous.

I stopped abruptly, letting go of Wanda's hand. She stopped speaking, turning around and furrowing her brows with concern.

"Hey, Y/N, what's wrong?" she asked, and I winced, clutching my head to relieve the pain.

The wave of nausea left after a moment, but the headache remained. I heard Wanda repeat my name quietly, sensing my discomfort.

"I think I need to see Doctor Maya again," I finally found my words.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked, resting a hand on my cheek and tilting my head up to meet her eyes. "You can tell me."

Her eyes were reassuring, calming me in an instant. I wanted to tell her everything, but I didn't want to burden her with my anxieties, so I offered her a small smile.

"I just don't think my recovery is as straightforward as I thought," I settled. "She may be able to help."

Wanda chewed her lower lip, nodding slowly. Thankfully, she didn't question me anymore. Instead, she took me back to the Tower to see Doctor Maya. I was grateful as she waited with me for her to be free, until I had to convince her I'd be okay going in myself.

"Are you sure? I don't mind," she said, exchanging looks with Doctor Maya, who looked away quickly.

I glanced between them, mildly confused, but nodded to Wanda. "I'd rather go alone, Wanda. I'll be okay."

She nodded, squeezed my hands comfortingly, then let me go. When I headed into Doctor Maya's office, she took a seat behind her desk and motioned for me to sit before her.

"You said this was urgent," she spoke first, after I took a seat opposite. "Is everything okay?"

I licked my lips, looking down at my hand as it scratched the arm of the chair nervously. "No... not really."

After a moment of hesitation and partial embarrassment, since I knew this was only supposed to be a mild concussion that felt like so much more, I explained everything that happened to Doctor Maya. The odd dreams/nightmares, the headaches, the overlapping memories and sleep paralysis. As hard as it was to relive, I told her everything in hopes she had an answer that maybe I hadn't realised.

When I finished speaking, she looked distracted with her own thoughts. I waited patiently, watching as she nodded to herself before looking to me calmly.

"It doesn't seem like anything to worry about, truthfully," she said, which I didn't expect. "You suffered a mild concussion, yes, but it must have rattled you more than we thought. The dreams and trouble sleeping are a result of your headaches and returning memories. You do remember what happened, right?"

I nodded, though something felt incorrect. "I think so, yes. I was helping an agent when a mine went off. I was thrown back, covered in debris. Hit my head."

She hummed. "Yes... and you're taking your medication?"

Another nod. "Of course. I just want to get better. The sooner I do, the sooner I can return to work."

"Then it seems that your only opponent is stress and impatience," she said simply. "You need to relax. Keep taking your meds. Try not to worry about returning to work just yet. Focus on getting better. I can prescribe you some sleeping pills if you think that will help."

Sighing disappointedly, I nodded. I was expecting more to be honest, possibly an explanation. Her words made sense logically, but it still didn't feel right. Nonetheless, I didn't want to hold her up any longer, so I let her prescribe me some more medication before leaving. Maybe I'd give relaxing a shot.

—

"It's a meatball."

I stifled a laugh as I studied the oddly shaped ball of meat in Wanda's hand. "Is it?"

She narrowed her eyes playfully. "It is otherwise you're making your own meal."

I laughed, pressing a haste kiss to her cheek. "Okay, okay, it's a meatball. Add it to the tray."

We were cooking spaghetti and meatballs for dinner about six days after my incident out in the field. I was still staying with Wanda at the Tower, and I was taking Doctor Maya's advice with my recovery. I didn't worry myself with returning to work which, admittedly, helped out, and the sleeping pills knocked me out long enough to get a good sleep. Though, sometimes the nightmares would still return. I didn't think about them too much though, not wanting them to hinder my recovery. Instead, I focused on getting better with my very supportive girlfriend by my side.

Wanda added the meatball to the baking tray, alongside the others, but as she reached to form another one from the bowl full of minced meat, she accidentally knocked it to the floor. The meat splattered across the tiles, making her gasp.

"Shit," she cursed, eyes widening slightly.

"Very clever," I teased with a smile.

"Let me just–"

"I got it," I cut her off, already bending to clear it up. "Just put the tray in the oven, yeah? Try not to drop it."

"Ha-ha, very funny."

I looked up in time to see her rolling her eyes playfully, but she grabbed the tray as I said.

I kneeled down, scooping the meat up and throwing it in the bowl, knowing it would have to go in the bin now. As I did, I realised how familiar the meat looked. Pink and flesh-like, covering my hands and sticking to me. Suddenly, my hands were shaking, the fleshy bits surrounded by blood, and I tried to blink away the sight, expecting to just see minced meat, but I couldn't. They were covered in what I somehow knew was the flesh of body parts.

Startled, I fell back onto my butt, my back hitting the drawer behind me and pulling me from my daydream. Wanda looked down at me with confusion, before sensing something was wrong and leaning down beside me. She rested a hand on my head, thumb stroking my forehead.

"What's wrong?" she asked, confused eyes staring between me and my hands which were still shaking. She grabbed the tea towel from the counter above us before wiping my hands for me and holding them. "Y/N. This has happened a few times. Please tell me what happened."

I was still shaken, unsure why there was a discomfort in the pit of my stomach. I risked glancing at my hands, which were clean and no longer covered in human fle– I mean, meat.

"I don't know what's going on," I finally admitted to her, shaking my head. "It's like my thoughts aren't my own. I can't control them. I just keep seeing stuff that isn't real."

She frowned, eyes peering through mine patiently.

"I still can't remember what happened with the mine," I said, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. "It's like, I know what happened and I know it's real, but when I try to remember, it just doesn't happen quite right. The picture doesn't appear. And I don't know why."

She pressed her lips together, jaw clenching slightly. I wasn't sure what she was thinking, but her eyes wouldn't meet mine.

"What did the doctor say?" she asked lowly.

I sighed, the discomfort still lining my stomach. "She thinks I just need time."

Wanda nodded, finally lifting her gaze. "Maybe she's right."

I knitted my brows together with frustration, nudging her away and standing up. "I don't need time! I'm a doctor, too. I know it shouldn't take this long. It was a mild concussion. I've treated hundreds of those."

"Y/N–"

"Just forget it," I said with exasperation, pulling away from her as she tried to reach out again. I knew it was uncalled for, taking it out on her for no reason, but I was too frustrated with the situation to care. "I think I'm gonna go for a walk."

She sighed from behind me, running a hand through her hair. I left her in the kitchen, suddenly not in the mood to eat. Clearly all of Doctor Maya's advice wasn't working – what I was experiencing wasn't normal. I needed to see her again.

So, after cleaning my hands properly and having a walk around the Tower to clear my head (as expected, it didn't work), I headed to Doctor Maya's office, hoping she was still in work today. To my surprise, when I reached her office, I saw her door was slightly ajar and she was already speaking to someone. My intention wasn't to eavesdrop, but when I heard my name said in a hushed whisper from a familiar voice, I knew I had to stay.

"...can't say anything," Wanda finished. "She'll get better."

Doctor Maya sounded frustrated. "It's not right, Miss Maximoff. This is against everything I stand for. Against everything Y/N stands for, too, I'm sure."

"This is for her benefit," Wanda snapped, before taking a deep breath. "Look, she can't handle the truth. It'll break her... I haven't worked out the kinks, but it'll be okay. She'll get better."

What the hell were they talking about? What truth could I not handle? Wanda and the doctor were in on something together, something they didn't want me to know... and it was something to do with why I was feeling like how I was. I knew I wasn't going insane – something was wrong!

I left them to it with plans of seeing the doctor afterwards, not wanting to get caught, and tried to wrap my head around the fact that Wanda had been keeping something from me this whole time. How could she? I didn't want to jump to conclusions, but I thought that we could trust each other.

What was she hiding?

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen #scarlet witch #mcu imagine #marvel imagine #mcu #marvel

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katsukikitten · 3 years

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WARNING 18+ BIRB NOT BIRB SMUT! Band AU, harem collab. In which reader meets her favorite faceless singer. Little over 3k

Sweat trickles down your spine as your favorite song is blasted from the large speakers. Fog from the stage lingers just above your head as you feel as if you were in a dream. The setting is surreal especially since you actually managed to WIN those rare radio tickets to see a band in concert. And not just any band, your favorite fucking bad.

TOKYO MOB

The band consisted of four people, Bakugou Katsuki, the drummer who was angrier than any person you'd ever seen wearing nothing but skinny black jeans and a perpetual frown. Jiro, so cool and sleek in anything she wore as she tore up her guitar as side vocals. Then there was Denki, funny, cute even, on the bass with his electric blonde hair and killer smile. Lastly there was "Dark Shadow", the lead vocalist.

No one knew his real name or what he looked like, he chose to wear a headpiece in the shape of a raven or crow. You loved him, even without knowing his face.

He was so fit, strong arms and deadly abs that could be seen from beneath his cut off band tee crop top, much like you were wearing now. His voice was soothing as a bird's song, whether he was screaming or singing. The sound so uniquely beautiful it brought tears to your eyes the first time you heard it. And standing here with nothing but a small barricade and stage separating the two of you was a dream made in heaven.

He sings your favorite song, looking out into the crowd, body drenched in sweat from the high energy show as he jumps to the beat. He pauses to hit a long note and while the guitar riffs he looks into the VIP section. You swear you feel as if he is looking dead at you. The next few lyrics are packed full with emotion as he gets onto his knee, one hand holding the microphone while the other gently floats towards outstretched hands.

"I've been looking for youuuu, I just need to find youuuuu and when I do, when I do I'll dress you in my band teee and make youuuu~"

But it's yours that his fingers brush, intertwining his fingers with yours as tears prick your eyes.

"Mine. Forever miiinee~"

The world stops, his silky voice smoothing over your skin before it erupts in goose flesh, he holds on to your hand as he sings the chorus again. The screaming people around you fade away as you hear nothing but his sultry voice.

As if he were serenading you in the kitchen of your home.

"I've been looking for youuuu, I just need to find youuuuu and when I do, when I do I'll dress you in my band teee and make youuuu~"

"Mine. Forever miiinee~"

He squeezes your hand as he finishes the note, releasing your hand slowly before starting to stand. The music begins to fade as he huffs, trying to catch his breath before looking over the band. He sees that ever might need just a second more to take in some water so he brings the mic close to his face as he shouts.

"Are we having a good time tonight?!"

The crowd erupts into a scream, so loud you can barely hear the one tearing up your throat.

"I can't fucking hear you, extras!" Bakugou shouts into his own mic. The sold out stadium shakes rivaling the bass of the sound system as they all play off random notes and beats. When the deafening roar becomes a hushed, dull roar Bakugou sets the beat, Jiro and Denki join in as their most popular song begins to bump through the speakers. The song sets a heavy, hype beat that can get anyone to bang their head to. You start along with them, booze lighting up your system and causing you to ignore the charged air around you

Some of the bystanders, some of the women especially were jealous of the fact that you were holding hands with none other than the DARK SHADOW.

"Stupid bitch." They murmur amongst themselves, "Let's really fuck her up."

One says before shoving her unsuspecting and overly excitable boyfriend into another guy while shouting.

"MOSH PIT!" The crowd follows suit, putting you in the thick of it. Normally you could handle a little mosh, staying on the fringes to avoid too much damage but being in the center was beginning to spell trouble. The world spun as body after body began to slam into you, turning you this way and that before someone begins to take advantage of the situation. A sleazy guy you had hoped to avoid "falls" into you, rough palms grabbing a handful of your ass, beneath your skirt. A yelp lost to the crowd leaves your lips, tears burning in your eyes as this man set out to ruin what was possibly the highlight of your life.

He was going to ruin it with his disgusting cigarette breath, lips sloppily kissing at your throat as he moved the two of you closer to the barricade. His fingers dig into your ass, spreading your cheeks as he shouts into your ear.

"These fishnets for me slut?" He slurs, chuckling as he presses your back into the cool biting metal, "Love the crop top baby, do you got a bra on underneath?"

A sob threatens to rack through your body as your elated high quickly turns into stomach churning nausea. Desperately you look up to the stage, anything to distract you from the fingers that try to venture between your thighs, while the other rips at your favorite top.

Tokoyami jumps, stopping to adjust his feet for steady ground to do the screaming part of the song, he glances down into the crowd, silently looking for you. The woman who made his heart flutter for the first time in years and when he sees your face tilted up towards him with fear and pain twisting your features he loses his cool.

"Fucking stop!" He shouts, the lyrics gone for now as the music abruptly stops, the man holding you startles as the light follows Dark Shadow's accusing finger. He is illuminated by the stage light as bystanders rip him from you, he punches one guy and makes a run for it.

"Aye yo security. Get this asshole!" Dark Shadow shouts, leaning down for your now outstretched arms. Pulling you on stage with ease as his fingers flutter over your shoulders and sides for injuries.

"You okay my sparrow?" He coos softly and you nod, and he guides you towards the back of the stage, leaving the two front members to appease the excited crowd. He presses a cold water bottle to your hand before pulling up a chair a few feet from the drum kit.

"Stay by Bakugou okay? He'll take care of you." He wipes some sweat from your face before squeezing the nape of your neck. Bakugou glares your way with mixed emotions before doing his show starting beat to get the crowd jumping.

"Anyone else wanna act like a fucking douche?" Denki asks, walking up and down the front of the stage waiting for Tokoyami to return to the forefront.

"NOOOOO!" The crowd shouts, Denki offers a cheeky smile before adding.

"That's my good fans!" He blows a kiss to the crowd and the screams fly up an octave.

"Alright let's start this shit from the top!" Jiro shouts, letting out some hypnotic notes before looking towards Tokoyami.

"Actually, let's give them a sample of the new album. Let's give them a tease. Do you wanna be teased?" He asks the crowd aiming the mic towards them as if he needed to.

"SHOW US! TEASE US!" The crowd chants before Tokoyami looks towards his band members.

"I dunno do they deserve it?" Bakugou prodes and the audience lets out a dejected whine.

"Promise to behave?" Jiro teases and the crowd collectively screams out desperately "YES!"

"Well keep your hands to yourself and listen up cause you're only gonna hear it this once til it drops!" Tokoyami shouts before Jiro starts playing that hypnotic sound, shortly after Denki joins in. Bakugou twisting his drumstick as he waits for his cue impatiently. Dark Shadow takes in a deep breath before singing the haunting first lines of their new song.

"What do you do, when it's stalking after yoouuu? What do you say when it's just a breath awaaay~? Coming closer and you can't seem to get awaaaaay?"

"Always watching, always loooomming-"

Bakugou slams his sticks down hard onto the kit, foot tapping the bass drum at an alarming speed as everything seems to be hitting a climax.

"WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN ITS COMING FROM INSIDE OF YOU? WHAT DO YOU SAY WHEN IT SHARES YOUR NAAAAME?

WHEN YOU CAN'T HIDE THE DEMON THAT'S LURKING INSIDE!"

The last line he screams and the crowd is overcome with emotion. The height of the music and the new song that the band pours their hearts into, sends the crowd into a frenzy. Sweat dripping from everyone as their black shirts dampen around their collars.

The song the crowd wanted to last forever comes to an end and you find yourself standing to scream, tears in your eyes.

"That was amazing!" Curling your fingers into a fist, Dark Shadow turns back to see you, out of the millions of people there tonight, in that moment he could only hear you.

"Well I think we gave them a good show huh?" Denki asks into the mic, Bakugou drums a heavy beat as he shouts.

"FUCK YEA WE DID!"

"HAVE A GOOD NIGHT!!" The band members shout in unison before waving and slowly backing off stage. Tokoyami rushes towards you, hand slipping around your natural waist as he guides you into the darkened stage towards his dressing room. Your heart is racing in your ears as the silence becomes deafening. Being this close to Dark Shadow you couldn't help but notice the little cushion that keeps his helmet from damaging his throat and the intoxicating smell that rolls off of him like a cool breeze. He smells like cedar and pine at twilight while the wind brings with it the threat of snow.

You shiver despite the warmth of his touch. Swallowing the lump in your throat you force your tongue to cooperate as he steps in front of his door politely opening it for you. His small silver chains clink from the motion.

"You must be tired, are you sure you want...company?" If you could see his face you imagined he'd be smiling. Pressing his hand at the small of your back to urge you inside.

"I'm sure." He walks in, waiting for you to follow before he slumps onto a worn leather arm chair. Your platform converse move on their own as you cross the threshold of the room, closing the door behind you.

"Lock it, would you sparrow?" All you can do is nod as you turn the lock until you hear a soft click. He gestures for you to sit on the couch beside him before his broad hands go towards his helmet.

The blood rushes from your face as a moment of honor and horror wage war in your gut, pulling your heart down towards your feet.

"Wait!" You shout, startling both of you and you feel heat rise into your cheeks and throat, "I don't want you to feel obligated to take it off. We can just...talk."

Nervously you fidget with the hem of your skirt, thinking he was going to kick you out for being so lame.

Boring.

He stands and you flinch before he sits beside you on the love seat. If you could see his eyes you wondered if they were sparkling. His winter woods smell tickles your nose and you smile.

"I'd love to just talk. But first." He must notice your ripped shirt as he stands again. Rummaging through his suitcase to find the first edition band tee ever made for TOKYO MOB.

"I couldn't!" You half shout and then squeak, "I shouldn't"

"I insist." He says softly placing it on your lap before giving you his toned back. The cropped tee he wears shows off the dimples in his lower back that has you thinking of what it would look like while those hips piston into you. Quickly you toss your ripped shirt aside and slip his over your head, relishing the present smell, heart stirring.

"It's safe." You say softly and he turns around taking the seat beside you again.

After a small awkward silence the two of you begin to talk, the conversation coming easy as you gushed over his voice and where you went to college when he asked. Him wanting to know more about your life and the night ended up being about you instead of him for once and it was nice.

Nice to not have someone prying or clawing at his neck to find out just who he was and what he looked like, suddenly heat rushes to his pants. His hand comes to rest on your knee just below the hem of your skirt, ringed fingers sliding beneath the black fabric. You swallow, looking into the face of the bird mask and softly speak.

"How- how would we kiss?" It feels stupid, embarrassing that you would even think that. He kills the light by the love seat flooding the room in total darkness before he takes off his helmet with a clatter.

"Like this." His lips are by your ear now sending ecstacy through your body in the form of a spine tingling shudder. He kisses at your lobe working his way down your throat and then up to your jaw, avoiding your lips as he tastes every inch of you he can. His damp hair tickles your nose as he moves you to him, hovering over you as he kisses the plane of your stomach beneath his lifted shirt.

"You look damn good in my shirt baby." He trails his tongue up your sternum causing you to moan, he smirks against the bone before sucking at the supple skin of your breast. Choosing them for his canvas to paint in blacks and blues that you would soon come to wish would last a life time. His free hand twists your nipple, pulling it as he scrapes his teeth against your other. Tongue flicking against the sensitive nub another moan escapes your lips as he plays with you for what feels like hours. He doesn't even go to touch your aching cunt until you're covered in a sheen of sweat. Begging for his hands to move lower as your vision spots in the dark from his sensual touch alone. Your own hands explore up his defined abs and torso occasionally catching the cool metal of his chains, this time you decide to pull him into a kiss. Your lips touching his for the first time all night and you feel like a live wire. Hungrily and aggressively trying to devour him as you feel music dancing through your blood, humming in your bones, he groans amplifying the feeling as his clothed hard on presses into your core. His tongue swipes over yours and the thought of not even knowing what he looks like arches your back into his touch.

Finally he flips your skirt up, his fingers venturing between your thighs and when he finds no fabric and the satisfying sound of your slick he bucks his hips, biting at your breasts.

"So wet sparrow…." His voice is soft breath and a little desperate causing your cunt to clench. He circles your clit until you're crying, his fingers occasionally checking for a stream of tears. When he feels the droplets on your face he chuckles shoving his fingers knuckle deep going agonizingly slow until you're fluttering around his thick curled digits. You cum hard and he whispers praises in your ear, several times as your body shakes and you think you won't be able to make it through the night.

"Ready for my cock babe?" He asks gently swiping his thumb over your swollen and heavily abused clit. You perk right up, ready for the finale silently thanking the gods for a band members stamina. You notice him shaking as he leans down for a kiss, his stomach sweaty and sticking to yours. You fist his hair, pulling him back just a bit.

"You'll be okay?" You can just make out the gleam of his teeth from his smirk before his voice comes out as pure sinful husk.

"The question is, will you sweet sparrow?"

Too stunned to answer he swallows your silence with a kiss before he sheaths himself inside you. Relishing the moan in his mouth and the fluttering of your velvet walls as they adjust to him. You were so wet, so ready for him as he slowly rocked his hips. Your half wish from earlier coming true as your hands fly to the dimples of his lower back, trying to urge him to quicken his pace but he keeps it languid, deadly. Each stroke hitting with purpose. The head of his cock hitting that cushy spot as his pelvis snapped against your clit. The sensation sends you into a never ending moan. Each gasp his stage name as he marks you as his, nails raking down your arms as he praises.

"Such a nice pussy you have. Taking me so fucking well." He lingers by your ear, his tone the opposite of his lustful words. Your own nails claw down his back in viscous lines as he keeps you on the edge. The coil, steady and tight as you feel the pressure in your stomach growing. He can feel how tightly you're squeezing him and how your thighs are locked around his waist. He press his fingers into your stomach as his thumb swipes over your clit, his hips snapping faster and faster as he waits for what he hopes is coming. The pressure becomes too much he overstimulates your body, shaking as you cry out.

"I can't, I can't…"

"You can, just for me. Don't be shy, cum for me baby." His deep voice sends a chill through your body, you go rigid, quiet before your body jerks and releases a clear liquid onto his pelvis and cock. Shaking as he fucks your through it before his voice comes out strained as you milk him.

"Imma cum baby, where do you want it?"

"In me, I promise I have an IUD just fucking cum Dark Shadow!" You gasp and he obeys, adding to your pleasant after shocks, filling you to the brim with his hot seed with a husky grunt. He collapses onto you fixing your shirt before he gently withdraws, keeping his face to your chest as your fingers find his hair. You try not to let your thoughts wander and as if he could read your mind.

"I promise you, you're the only one who's made me do that." He kisses your throat gently before his hand searches for your free one, interlacing his fingers with yours before he hums. Slowly singing you to sleep. You welcome the feeling as exhaustion blankets you in darkness.

"Uh miss." The voice comes as a shock as a large man tries to wake you from a distance. You startle, grabbing at blankets to cover yourself although you're fully clothed.

"Hate to wake you miss but we're locking up. The venue is closed and the band is…" Although he looks a brute he clearly has some sort of heart. Unable to say what you know.

"Gone." Tears burn your eyes as you think of how stupid you were. To ever think you were special enough to be anything more than a groupie. A note sits on the bedside table.

"Should we cross paths again, Sparrow. I'll make you forever mine"

The note blurs as you recognize the lyrics to the song. You look down at his band tee and wonder if your favorite song was more of a gimmick to pick up fans than some fated promise.

And so life moves on.

You can only tell that time has passed from the fading color of your bruises. Slowly they melt from a cold bluish black into cool greens and warm dotted yellows. You sigh, looking in the mirror before you head towards your room for clothes. Finally mustering up the courage to wear that stupid band tee he gave you again. It still smells faintly of him, of the winter woods suspended in forever twilight. Of musk from your sweat and his. You fight back the tears as you remind yourself you just put on mascara, finally choosing to participate in a social life after having your heart broken for being a fool. You decided to get ready sooner rather than later, otherwise you would have backed out from the plans and mopped around the house. You figured some coffee would help kill the time as you lace up your converse thinking of your favorite shop. You head out and walk leisurely to the cafe off the beaten path of downtown. The street is full but not overly so as people browse the shopping district of the huge city you call home. Everyone fades into the background until your eye catches against a handsome man, dressed in tastefully torn black jeans, and an onyx turtleneck. You would be concerned for his attire in this weather if he wasn't so damn handsome. You must catch his eye as well as his face instantly lights up when he makes eye contact. He beats you to the cafe door, holding it open for you with ringed fingers like a gentleman waiting for you to enter. The gesture feels familiar causing your heart to squeeze in your chest, feeling trapped beneath your too small rib cage. As you walk past him you think you smell something familiar.

Like cedar and pine, dancing on a snowy wind as the sun sets the world on fire.

Your world on fire as you grip at the front of Dark Shadow's shirt trying not to cry. You just wanted your fucking macchiato and to move on with your life. You had lived every fan's dream of sleeping with your favorite band member. Tasting Dark Shadow's blackberry mouth. Shouldn't that be enough?

Your aching heart said otherwise.

Suddenly warmth is behind you, radiating off of a thick body as the handsome man bends over to put his profile to your ear. Goose flesh prickles your skin in late August as he says with a voice that drapes you in sinful black silk.

"You look damn good in my shirt, sparrow."

#tokoyami smut #tokoyami fukimage #tokoyami x reader #tokoyami x you #bnha x reader #bnha band au #server collab #fukimage x reader

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kaimelia · 3 years

Note

Omggg I loved your fic “Overjoyed” I was wondering if you could do a part 2 where Amelia is really hormonal and it’s kinda funny? I love your writing so much!! Stay safe

overjoyed (pt 2)

a/n: hi! i also combined this with the like 4 other requests and ideas for a part 2, so if you sent one, it’s somewhere in here😅

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

"Hey, is everything okay?" Link had walked into the kitchen to see Amelia sitting on the floor, her hands cradling her bump as she cried softly. He kneeled down in front of her. "Amelia, what happened?"

"We're out of ice cream," she sniffled, wiping her eyes. Link stifled a laugh and bit the inside of his cheek.

"Do you want me to go out and get some?" She nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "Alright. I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Okay." He kissed her forehead quickly, running his hand down her head before grabbing the car keys and rushing out of the apartment. Amelia slowly stood, cursing her shifted centre of gravity as she steadied herself on the kitchen island. She walked into the bathroom to see her eyes puffy, taking a moment to laugh at her crying over ice cream. "God, you two are already making Mommy's life difficult," she muttered, glancing down at her stomach.

Before finding out she was pregnant with twins, she had wanted to keep her pregnancy secret for as long as possible. But, with two babies occupying her womb, it wasn't quite possible to keep it hidden for very long. Every symptom she experienced was on full blast, bursting into tears at the slightest inconvenience, constant nausea, every inch of her body always aching and sore. Now, 17 weeks along, she was already forced to start wearing maternity clothes to fit around her stomach.

The front door opened again soon later, Link rushing through with a bag of different ice cream flavors. He pouted his lip out at the sight of her, opening her arms to embrace her. "Hormones are hitting me really bad," she muttered into his chest, sighing. "I'm sorry for being super dramatic about everything."

"Hey, you're allowed to be. I'm just glad that nothing bad was actually happening."

"It was a full-blown crisis. We didn't have ice cream." She stepped away, opening the bag and pulling out a carton of peanut butter flavored ice cream. "Thank you." He grinned as she pulled a spoon out from the drawer, settling on the couch and adjusting the pillow behind her.

"Better?"

"Much better."

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

"Who would've thought that being pregnant with twins would make me so much more exhausted," Amelia muttered, settling herself between Link's legs, leaning her weight against his chest. He locked his hands under her bump, his thumb caressing the bottom of her swollen stomach. "My back hurts so much." He moved his hands to her shoulders, massaging the tension she was holding. "Mm, thank you."

"You know, if you spent less time on your feet," he muttered, kissing her neck.

"I need to work. The odds are that I'll be bedridden before they're born, and it'll take me even longer to recover. If I stop working now, I'll go insane."

"I know, but this is different than your last pregnancy. Carina said we wanna get the twins to at least 32 weeks." Amelia sighed, leaning her head back on his shoulder.

"That's another month," she groaned, rolling her head to the side. "I can't not work for the next month, Link."

"I just think you should cut back a bit. I will too in solidarity if you want."

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

"Amelia, go to sleep," Link groaned into his pillow, having been woken up by his girlfriend's shifting around.

"I can't get comfortable. My stupid bump keeps getting in the way." He reached his hand out in the dark, searching for her. His hand rested on her knee.

"What're you worried about?" Her face softened at his ability to sense her nerves, and Link sat up and turned on the bedside lamp.

"I don't know how I'm going to handle two newborns," she confessed, her fingers drumming on top of her bump. "Whenever Scout would get super upset, it was just so overwhelming. And having two newborns? There are going to be so many meltdowns, all of the time." He moved his hand up to wrap around the side of her head, his fingers playing with strands of her hair as he pushed her head down to rest against his shoulder.

"Well, this time, we don't have three other kids to look at. And, we're not in a global pandemic where no one can come to help or visit us, so I think it will be easier in some ways." Amelia exhaled heavily, scooching closer to his body. "Plus, I kinda know what I'm doing this time, so I won't be as useless."

"You weren't useless," she laughed, finally cracking a smile. "You did your best, and once you found what worked, you stuck with it. And now you're a kick-ass dad." Link hummed and pulled the comforter up.

"This kick-ass dad thinks that this kick-ass mom," he poked her shoulder, "needs to get some sleep. Because otherwise, those two babies are gonna kick your ass tomorrow." He grinned at his joke, reaching over to turn the lamp off.

"I'm not tired," she groaned, laying down with him.

"At least close your eyes and try to sleep." Link placed his arm over her body, his hand settling on top of her stomach. "Goodnight, Amelia. I love you," he whispered, kissing the back of her head.

"Night," Amelia muttered sleepily, intertwining her hand with Link's before quickly falling asleep.

"And someone said they weren't tired."

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

"I don't think I can stand up," Amelia groaned, rocking back and forth in the fancy rocking chair she and Link had purchased. He looked up at her and smiled, looking back down at the pile of wood and screws below him. "You're sure you don't want help?"

"You just said you can't get up; I don't think you would be much help here."

"I meant calling Winston or something. You've been at this for an hour, and you have a whole other crib to put together." Link shrugged, flipping the instruction page. Amelia locked her hands under her baby bump, leaning into the soft cushion of the chair. "We're gonna have to move to a bigger house someday. They can't share a room forever."

"We've got a few years, at least," he muttered, standing up the frame he finished. "Okay, give me a list of everything we need to do before the babies get here." Amelia sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and thinking.

"Finish the cribs, wash all of their clothes, put everything away, and get the hospital bag ready."

"Cribs will be done in an hour; I've got the hang of this now." She grinned, digging her feet into the fuzzy carpet on the floor. "And, we can do the laundry tomorrow as well as the bag."

"What did I do to deserve you?" Link laughed, shaking his head in amusement.

"Made me the happiest man alive," he answered honestly, setting down the screwdriver beside his legs. "Now, can you kick that piece of wood towards me?"

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

"And, after twenty-seven hours of labor," Link brushed his hand through his hair, "we have two healthy, perfect little babies." Maggie stood up and clapped her hands, wrapping her arms around Link.

"Oh, I'm so happy!" She squealed, stepping back to let Meredith hug him. "When can we see them?"

"In a little bit. Amelia's completely passed out, for a good reason," he laughed, rubbing under his eye. "And Hayes took them to do all of their newborn tests. But, I have plenty of pictures." He pulled out his phone and handed it to the women in front of him, watching as they cooed over the baby pictures.

"A boy and a girl," Meredith grinned, passing the phone to Maggie. "They're adorable."

"Do they have names?" He shook his head.

"We talked a little before they were born, but just as I was about to bring it up, Amelia fell asleep, so it'll have to wait a few hours."

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

"Look who's awake," Link whispered, running his hand over his girlfriend's hair. "How're you feeling?"

"I feel fine, just the general pain of pushing two babies out of my vagina." She grinned. "Where are my babies?"

"Meredith and Maggie are with them on the peds floor so that you could sleep a little longer. Twenty-seven hours of labor is no joke," he took her hand, watching her eyelids struggle to remain open. "I'm exhausted. And, I wasn't the one pushing out babies."

"I'm just glad you were here this time," she mumbled, shifting to lay on her side. "It was much better having you here."

"I'm glad I was too," he kissed her hand before dropping it and pulling out his phone. "I'll get them to bring the babies back down." He sent a quick text, looking back to see her eyes closing. "Amelia?"

"I'm awake," she groaned, sitting up in the hospital bed. The door was pushed open a minute later, and Meredith and Maggie walked through with the twins in their arms.

"Hey, mommy," Meredith whispered, placing her niece into Amelia's arms. "You made some pretty adorable babies." The neurosurgeon grinned, brushing her finger over her daughter's cheek as Link took their son, lightly bouncing up and down. "Are they worth the twenty-seven hours of labor? That sounds like torture." Amelia shrugged, not taking her eyes off the baby in her arms.

"Absolutely worth it. Although, I don't know if I've got more in me for another baby," she joked, removing the pink cap to reveal a head full of thin blonde hair on their daughter's head.

"They're not even three hours old, and you're already thinking about the next one?" Link questioned in disbelief, moving to stand next to the bed. "I think these two and Scout will have us in over our heads."

"I'll come over and cuddle them whenever you want," Maggie smiled, watching Link sit next to Amelia on the bed. "But, I'm sure that you guys will kill it."

"Maybe that's not the phrase we should use when talking about taking care of babies," Meredith muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. "But, Maggie's right. You two are the most competent parents I know. Managed to not screw my kids up too badly, so obviously, you're doing something right." Amelia looked up and beamed widely.

"We'll still take all of the help you offer. Even kick-ass parents need a break," she whispered, bringing her daughter up to kiss her forehead. "How did our lives get so perfect?"

"I have no idea," Link muttered. "Absolutely no idea."

#amelia shepherd #amelink #amelia x link #amelink fanfiction #atticus lincoln #grey's anatomy #amelink fanfic #greys abc #greys fanfic #scout lincoln #meredith grey #maggie pierce #my fics

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spine-buster · 4 years

Text

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 23

A/N: *sings* Taaaake me to church...

February 25th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was officially 22 years old.

Despite all the events of yesterday, she was happy. She had a few texts from friends and some Instagram notifications already waiting for her when she woke up, and they put her in a good mood. Her parents called her as she was putting on her makeup, and talked to her until she left to get breakfast downstairs. She already knew she would FaceTime Siena after practice when they got back to the hotel.

When she got downstairs to the continental breakfast, some of the guys were already there, and she knew everyone else was on their way. Jake was already there, wishing her a happy birthday at the scrambled eggs. Mitch was there too, who poured her some orange juice as he wished her a happy birthday as well. Jason said she should be sitting down at the table while everyone else got her the food she wanted. She giggled.

Willy and Kappy arrived together. Kappy wished her a quick happy birthday before he started to get his food. Willy lingered by her. “You talk to your parents yet?”

“They called me this morning, yeah.”

“Siena?”

“We’re FaceTiming after practice.”

William nodded his head understandingly. “Happy birthday,” he smiled softly.

She smiled equally as softly. “Thanks.”

“You gonna be blasting that Taylor Swift song or what?” Travis Dermott asked he appeared beside them, plate piled high with scrambled eggs and bacon. “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling twenty-twoooOooOOOooo!” he sang aloud in a horrible high-pitched voice, definitely trying to mimic Taylor Swift but of course failing miserably.

William set down his plate and put his hands over his hears dramatically. Travis began dancing while trying not to have the bacon spill over his plate. Aberdeen couldn’t help but laugh. “Were you doing that when you turned 22?” she asked.

“You bet! That song was on a 24 hour loop,” he smiled.

“Poor Kat.”

“She lived. So what’s your birthday wish?”

“For you guys to win tonight,” she winked.

“We can make that happen,” he winked back. “Can’t we, Willy?”

“My ear drums burst after your awful singing. What did you say?”

“I said WE CAN WIN TONIGHT, CAN’T WE?” he yelled so loud other patrons in the eating area looked towards them.

Aberdeen shielded her face and William turned completely around so they couldn’t see his face. “You’re the worst, pal,” William said to Travis. “And by the way,” he shifted focus to Aberdeen, “we’re definitely winning the game tonight. For you and only you. Bust also so that we don’t have to hear any more of that.”

***

“Did the boys promise you they’d win for your birthday?” Brendan asked Aberdeen as they walked together through the halls to their box for the game.

“They did,” she nodded. “This morning at breakfast.”

“Think they’ll be able to do it?” he asked. They both flashed their credentials to the security guard who let them through easily. Aberdeen could even see Kyle down at the other end of the hallway waiting.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I hope so. It would be kind of nice.”

“No hoping,” Brendan shook his head. “Do you have faith they can win the game tonight for your birthday?” he asked again, his voice sterner.

“Yes,” she answered automatically, nodding her head. She did have faith in them. She had faith that William would probably show off tonight like he showed off when Siena was in the building in Ottawa, but she wasn’t exactly going to vocalize that out loud. “Do you?”

He took a moment to think about it as he looked at her. It wasn’t an automatic reaction like hers was. “Yes,” he finally said. “Because I know how much they adore you.”

***

“Look at him fuckin’ go,” Kyle said with a giant smirk on his face as he watched the replay of William’s goal. It was beautiful. The Leafs were on a powerplay and he was sitting pretty right in front of the net. After a feed from Mitch not going exactly where he wanted it go, William ended up sneaking it in between his legs and putting it in the net, top shelf. Bardown. Beautiful.

“He just surpassed his dad in goals not even two weeks ago and now this. Now he’s just showing off,” Brendan giggled, looking at the replay himself.

Aberdeen watched replay after replay. “This is absolutely unbelievable by Nylander” she heard the announcer say as he broke down the play and the goal. She was so enamoured by the coverage and the breakdown and the smile on his face at the end of it that she almost didn’t notice what Brendan whispered to Kyle.

“Think he’s showing off for someone?”

***

Brendan made sure he and Aberdeen took their time walking down to the locker room after the 4-3 win. He made sure to have his cell phone constantly in his hand, waiting for the right text to come through. He made sure that when he did, he hurried down there with her tagging along.

Aberdeen followed Brendan into the locker room. Brendan nodded at Sheldon. Sheldon nodded at him.

“Alright boys! Everyone get in here!” Sheldon yelled out to the team. Everyone settled down and came back in the locker room, either standing or sitting in their stalls, their gear half on or half off and their hair still sweaty from the game. Brendan and Aberdeen were in the back, standing just in front of one of the entrances, making sure not to block Jack Campbell’s view. “We came back hard tonight. We showed them what we were made of. We held them off in the third period. We stuck with our game. Willy with that game winning goal that I’m sure is gonna be on every highlight reel this season,” Sheldon smiled, and some of the boys clapped and whooped for him. “It was a good fight. It was a good…hey…hey wait. Where’s Spezza?” he asked, furrowing his brows. “Where’s Spezz?”

Everybody began looking around the room. Even Aberdeen started looking. “Spezz?” Tyson asked really loudly.

Silence.

And then…

“Haaaaaaaaaappy biiiiiiirthday to yoooooouuuuu…”

Out of the corner of her eye, Aberdeen saw Jason walk into the locker room carrying a giant slab cake, with 22 candles lit up throughout. It started with just his voice, but as the words dragged on, more voices joined. She saw giant smiles on the entire locker room’s faces as they sang along, and she immediately covered her face in embarrassment, getting way too emotional. Even the cameraman that they sometimes brought on road trips to film content for Blueprints was filming her.

“Haaaaaaaaaappy biiiiiiirthday to yoooooouuuuu…Haaapppy Biiirthdaaayyy dear Aaaaaaaberdeeeeeeeeeen, haaaaaaaaaappy biiiiiiirthday to yoooooouuuuu!”

The entire locker room began cheering and clapping loudly. Aberdeen couldn’t believe it. She shook her head at everything that was happening – the cake, the singing, the filming, the shit-eating grins on everyone’s faces, particularly Jason’s and Brendan’s – and blew out her candles in one big blow, causing everyone to cheer even louder than before. She knew she had an embarrassed look on her face – because she truly wasn’t expecting anything like this – but she was so grateful for the gesture. Her eyes were even tearing up, though she didn’t know why.

“Aberdeen, I think I speak for everyone when I say we wish you a very, very happy birthday in your twenty-second year of life,” Brendan began. “You came into our lives in September, and since then, we’ve grown more and more in love with you, your outfits, the books you bring on the plane…” he motioned with his hands for the guys to pitch in.

“Your no-nonsense attitude!” Jason contributed.

“Your rockstar Halloween costumes!” Travis yelled.

“Your Willy fashion roasting!” Kappy yelled.

Everybody laughed. Brendan laughed too before focusing back on her. “From the streets of good ol’ Etobicoke to 50 Bay Street…you’ll always be part of the Maple Leafs family, Aberdeen. Always.”

Aberdeen’s breath hitched in her throat. She nodded her head. Those were some very kind words from a very powerful man, and she knew just how much they meant. And the fact that he was saying it in front of the team meant so much more. She thought it would be over and done with, but Kappy and Travis had other plans. “Speeeeeeeech! Speeeeeeeech!” they chanted. “Speeeeeeeeeech!” everyone else followed, expecting it like she’d just won an Oscar.

(Maybe she deserved one, since she’d been sneaking around with William and nobody seemed to be the wiser.)

“There’s not a lot I’m gonna be able to say without crying,” she said, still shaking her head. She was still very well aware that the cameraman was still recording. “But seriously, thank you guys so much. This means a lot to me, considering how much of a family we are here. You guys, I…I can’t say enough about you guys. Honestly. But for how much you might love me, I hope you guys know how much I love you all too…”

The guys began clapping when they realized she really couldn’t say anything else because she would have gotten emotional. But it was Brendan who spoke and eliminated the feeling by screaming “ONE MORE TIME! HAPPY BIRTHDAY ABERDEEN!”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAAYYYYYY!!!!!” they all rushed towards her screaming, engulfing her in a giant mob as she screamed at the fact that twenty-plus men were about the crowd her like she was a fellow hockey player. The only one who didn’t was Jason so he could save the cake. Thank God.

“The gift!”

“Where’s the gift?!”

“Somebody get the gift!!!”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows. Mitch ran from where Jason had come from, hockey pants and socks still on, and brought out a giant box from the back. He placed in right in front of Aberdeen. “What did you guys do?”

“We started thinking about it at the beginning of the month—” Kasperi began, but Jason quickly cut him off.

“—Jen and Bee said we should get you something. But I mean we all thought of the idea of what to get you,” he said, throwing a look towards Kappy. “John went out and bought it, but like we all pitched in.”

Aberdeen kept unwrapped until she tore a part of the wrapping paper and saw the Louis Vuitton logo on the box. She gasped out loud. She didn’t care that everybody in the room was watching her at this point. “Whaaaaaaat did you guys do?!” she shrieked, ripping off the paper even quicker now. When the wrapping paper was off and she opened the box, she gasped dramatically. Everybody had pitched in to buy her a Louis Vuitton Keepall Bandoulière carry-on bag in the damier azur canvas colour. “Are you for real?!” she asked, delicately moving the tissue paper to the side and taking the luggage bag out of the box.

“You like it?” Jason was smiling at her reaction.

“Now we all match with our Louis Vuitton!” Auston winked.

“Yeah, and now you can’t make fun of my fashion anymore!” William yelled.

“Oh yes I can,” Aberdeen replied automatically, not even looking at him – still admiring her new bag too much. “Seriously—I—what made you all decide you were going to get me Louis freaking Vuitton?”

“You roasting Willy’s fashion choices, actually,” Jason laughed out. Brendan laughed too. “Just thought you deserved something nice too, for putting up with us all the time.”

“I’m still making fun of Willy’s fashion choices,” she deadpanned.

“We figured.”

Aberdeen didn’t know who cut the cake. All she knew was that she was handed a piece once she was done groveling over her new bag. She didn’t know when the music started playing. All she knew was someone took her phone and started blasting her Spotify, and a weird variety of songs came on: “Vossi Bop” by Stormzy, which most of the guys vibed to; “Dancing Queen” by ABBA, because of course; and “(Dancin’) On A Saturday Night” by Barry Blue, which caused Tyson to grab her and start dancing with her comically. The guys were eating cake and taking off their gear. The media was still peeking in though their time and interviews had long gone. She wondered if they got pieces of cake.

When everything was said and done, everybody loaded onto the bus to get back to the hotel. She still had a stupid smile on her face as everyone filed in, carrying the box in her hands like a party-size pizza. She put it onto the seat beside her before taking out her phone to respond to some of the last messages she got from her friends, and saw some notifications that piqued her interest.

@kristenshilton: Leafs are celebrating a birthday in the locker room after their Tampa game. Cake and everything. I’m told that it’s chocolate.

@kristenshilton: ‘Vossi Bop’ by UK rapper Stormzy is playing. Nylander tells me, “It came up on Aberdeen’s phone. It’s her birthday. We promised we’d win the game for her.”

Aberdeen Bloom, in question: Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant.

Aberdeen wondered if this was the first time her name had been put out there by the media. She honestly had never searched her name on Twitter before so she had no clue. Now that it was out in the open, what would happen? What would Brendan say? Would he want it out there? She didn’t have the answers. The only thing she knew was that it didn’t matter right now, because it was her 22nd birthday. She could deal with it later – if she even needed to deal with it.

She went through her unanswered texts and Instagram messages thanking everybody for their birthday wishes. Just as she was about the locker her phone again, she opened her email inbox, noticing a few spam emails from sites she’d signed up for.

But one in particular caught her eye. She opened it immediately.

Dear Ms. Bloom,

Thank you for your submission to the “Memoirs” section of Toronto Life. We have read your essay “Maple Leaf For…Now” but regret to inform you that our team of editors has decided not to publish the essay. We thank you for your time and submission.

Best regards,

Sandy Miller, Senior Editor at Toronto Life Magazine

She immediately closed the email. She didn’t need to read it twice. She didn’t need to dwell on the feeling of being rejected. Again.

It was a quick drive back to the hotel. She followed everybody up to their respective floors and rooms, getting some final happy birthdays before she opened her own door and escaped into her own room. She put the giant box next to her luggage – she’d wonder how she was going to handle the packing tomorrow. She took her phone out of her pocket, seeing a text from William already.

i’ll let u know when i’m coming maybe 20-30 mins? the guys are pretty hyped and i want to make sure they’re in bed

Ok. No problem.

brendan was right tonight u know we all fell in love with u from the beginning i hope u know that

😇

She waited patiently yet impatiently. During the time she was waiting for him, she’d washed off all her makeup, took a quick shower, and even changed into her pajamas. She debated whether or not she should greet him with a sheetmask on, but then she figured that it was her birthday and he’d probably want to kiss her all night, so she decided against it, even as a joke. There was no way she’d waste a sheet mask.

She was sitting on her bed scrolling through her phone when she got the text from Willy. She prepared herself, and when she heard the slight knock on her door, she practically jumped out of bed and ran to the door. She opened it quickly. “Hey,” she smiled, closing the door behind him, even locking it for good measure.

“Hey.”

“What a goal tonight, Will!” she giggled as he got closer, wrapping his arms around her.

“For you,” was all he said. He apparently didn’t want to talk hockey – regardless of how pretty his goal was – or waste any more time. He just began kissing her. Big, open-mouthed, passionate kisses as he walked them towards her bed, falling on top of it when it reached the back of Aberdeen’s knees. Like many times before, they were making out like teenagers; they couldn’t help it. William found her insatiable, and Aberdeen found him just as much, if not more insatiable. She snaked her hands underneath his hoodie and took it off, leaving him shirtless. He did the same to her, leaving her topless in her bed.

“Aberdeen?” he mumbled against the skin between her breasts after what felt like hours of kissing, touching, and grinding against each other’s bodies.

“Yeah?” she managed to get out, though she could feel how hot her body was.

“Can I taste you?”

“Huh?” she blurted out in the most vulgar way that was humanly possible, completely embarrassing herself. She was sure William was going walk out the door right now and never turn back.

William snorted. “Can I taste you?” he asked again, slower, with a dumb smile on his face as he looked up at her.

“I…I…” her chest began to heave slightly. “I mean…okay. But um…I’ve never…” she kept trying to find the right words, but when she thought about what she actually needed to say, it just made her more embarrassed and more prone to stutter out her response. “I mean, I’ve never had…you know, anyone go down on me before.”

William stopped, furrowing his brows. “Wait…you’ve…you’ve never—”

“No.”

“You haven’t been eaten out before?”

“No.”

William seemed shocked. “But you…you’ve had boyfriends…?”

“Yes, Will. God.”

“So…” he was trying to piece everything together. “That guy I met, Zane or whatever his name was…he never ate you out in the entire year you dated?” he asked. Aberdeen shook her head. “What kind assholes did you date?” he shrieked.

“Arrrrrggghhhhh,” Aberdeen grumbled, covering her face with her hands in complete embarrassment. “This is so embarrassing!”

“Noooo no no no, come on, it’s okay,” William kept repeating and cooing as he pushed himself back up, one hand placing itself on her stomach to caress the skin there and on her sides while he leaned on his other arm. “Aberdeen, come on. It’s okay.”

“Is it though? Is it really?” she was peeking through her fingers like a kid.

“Of course it is,” he assured her. “It means I get to be the first one.” Aberdeen removed her hand from in front of her eyes so she could give him a look. “Was there a reason why it never happened?”

Aberdeen shrugged. “I mean…I’ve always been a bit self-conscious about it. Like about how I’d react or how I’d, like…taste,” she used his own words. “But Zane said he didn’t like to go down on girls, so I sort of never, like, asked for it. He was like that from the beginning. And I felt embarrassed to ask if I was just gonna get shot down. I mean…I wanted to try it. He just never would.”

“Did you give him blowjobs?”

Aberdeen knew she shouldn’t be getting uncomfortable, because she was with William and she was comfortable with him and trusted him completely, but it was a direct line of questioning she wasn’t used to. Though she talked about her hookups or past boyfriends with Siena or people like Kasha, she didn’t go into extreme depth like that. “Yeah…a whole bunch of them, actually…” she admitted.

She watched as William shook his head, getting angry. “That guy was a fucking asshole, and I’ll look through every stupid fucking cubicle in the city if I have to so I can punch him in the face for you.”

Aberdeen let out a sigh, running her fingers through his hair to push it back. “Does that make me lame? Be honest.”

“No, minskatt. It does not make you lame,” William asserted. He brought his hand up to caress her face, and trailed his fingers up to her new scar just above her eyebrow. He touched it delicately and she didn’t wince. “Listen…I want to taste you. I want to make you feel good,” he continued softly. “I know you’re nervous. It’s okay. I promise that I’ll go slow, okay? And I’ll stop whenever you tell me to stop.”

Aberdeen was nervous – perhaps more nervous than she’d ever been – but she nodded her head. “Okay,” she said.

“You’re sure?” William confirmed with her one more time.

“Yeah,” she nodded again. “I’m sure. Just…go slow.”

He’d heard her request those words before. “I will, minskatt. I love you.”

“I love you too, Willy.”

He began kissing her again, trying to get her as comfortable and relaxed as possible – how she was before he proposed the idea. They kissed again for a long time, William making sure he could sense her comfortability before he began to move down, running his lips and tongue down to her chest. His lips left her skin only to take off her pajama pants and underwear, slipping them off slowly at the same time before discarding them to the side. He could feel her shiver. “You alright?” he asked. She nodded her head. “I’m going to make you feel great, I promise.”

“You better.”

They both giggled slightly. “Just tell me when to stop if you want me to stop.”

“Okay.”

He continued to kiss his way down her body, eventually spreading her legs open and settling in between them. He could feel her take a deep breath, so he kissed some more – along her belly button, her hips, on the insides of her thighs. When he did that, there was another shiver. “Minskatt?”

“What?” she asked, like she was having trouble even getting the word out.

“Hold my hand.”

Aberdeen looked down. Seeing his face in between her thighs was quite the sight to behold. She grabbed onto one of his hands and intertwined their fingers. She could feel his thumb rubbing her hand assuredly. She didn’t think the first flick of the tongue to taste her was coming so soon. But as she felt his tongue along her folds, she flinched slightly out of surprise more than anything, squeezing his hand. “Oh fuck,” she sighed out, her hips bucking.

With his free arm, he pushed gently back on to the bed. “Was that okay?” he asked, his mouth still dangerously close to her lips so that when she spoke, she still felt them move against her. She nodded quickly. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” she said firmly, her response automatic. “K—Keep going. It felt good.”

Aberdeen looked down, only to make eye contact with him before he dived in again. Her eyes rolled to the back as William continued lapping at her, making her feel better and better with each stroke of his tongue. Soon, there were no nerves anymore – no worries about how she tasted or how she’d never done this before – and her body was doing the talking, squirming and writhing and sighing, her little oh fuck and oh my god comments the fuel William wanted, needed, to keep doing what he was doing. He did everything – quick flicks of the tongue, long laps from bottom-to-top, top-to-bottom, and sucking and licking like he was drinking a thick milkshake, making sure Aberdeen got the full experience.

Her moans were his music. At one point she had let go of his hand so she could bunch the bedsheets in her fists. He could hear her huffs and sighs. “S’at feel good?” he asked quickly.

“God, yes,” Aberdeen whispered, her voice so soft and so full of innocence at the new feeling of it all that William almost came himself right then and there.

“You taste so sweet for me, Aberdeen. You’re so sweet and it’s all for me,” he said, his voice low and full of lust and Aberdeen almost came right then and there.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck, Willy,” she couldn’t say much more. When he lapped at her with his flat tongue immediately after, she instinctively went to grab and tug on his hair. He’d made it a personal goal that he would make her come with just his tongue, and his groan in response and the vibration from it made her whimper. “Willy—I—Willy—”

He did it again, and she cried out. With his face so firmly planted on her pussy and with her tugging at his hair and making sure he stayed down there, the feeling was almost too much, but she knew she wanted him to keep going. She knew she wanted the build-up. She knew she wanted it to last as long as it could – as long as was physically possible for Willy – because this was, perhaps, the best feeling she’d ever felt.

The fact she was getting louder made Willy know she was enjoying it. She’d moved on from squirms to moans, and now from moans to audible cries, words frantic and scarcely used but enough so that he knew he was doing a good job and she wanted him to keep going. He kept up his movements so he could keep hearing her, the tugging of his hair bringing him the same kind of pleasure as he was currently giving her.

Then Aberdeen went a bit quiet. William didn’t like that. He looked up at her as he was still licking and noticed she was staring up at the ceiling. He squeezed her hand to get her attention. “You okay?”

She looked down and saw how wet his lips were – how her juices were all over his mouth, really, and she could have fucking cried. It was one of the hottest things she’d ever seen. “I feel really close,” she whispered, her voice strained. She’d been moaning and crying out for so long that he was surprised she even had one left. “I—fuck Willy—I feel so close.”

William wanted to make sure any part of her that was still holding back – if there was any left – didn’t hold back at all. He made sure he was making eye contact with her. “Come all over my face Aberdeen. Come for me. Now.”

Aberdeen had never been so turned on. He lapped and sucked once more and within seconds she was a screaming, writhing mess. She couldn’t be quiet. It was impossible. As her orgasm overcame her, flooding her entire body with pleasure, she tried to stop her legs from clamping together and squeezing William’s head in between her thighs. He didn’t care. William moved with each squirm, each scream, each buck of the hips, never once taking his mouth off her pussy as she came long and hard and completely, not once. She screamed and huffed and moaned until she couldn’t anymore, until her throat was dry. When she felt herself finally coming down from her orgasm – earth-shattering orgasm, really, if we’re being specific – she looked down at saw William already looking at her, smiling, her juices all over his lips and face, and she knew it was a sight that would be permanently etched in her mind.

When Aberdeen regained basic consciousness, she could feel William kissing the insides of her thighs again as he was chuckling slightly. He kissed his way back up to her, and when his lips landed on hers, she let out her last moan she had in her as she tasted herself on his lips. “You taste incredible,” he said once they finished kissing, looking right into her eyes as he licked his lips.

“I can’t believe that was what I was missing this entire time,” she said. “Zane’s a fucking asshole.”

William chuckled louder this time, nuzzling himself into her neck as he placed light butterfly kisses there. “I told you,” he said. “It felt good for you?”

She nodded. “It felt incredible. I’m serious. You’re going to turn me into one of those nymphomaniacs.”

“What did you like the most?”

“All of it,” she said immediately, because it was true. There was absolutely nothing that she didn’t like. As she felt his body rest beside hers, his lips still lingering on the skin of her neck, she could feel his erection. She turned a bit so she could look him in the eye, kissing him quickly. “D’you want me to take care of that?”

“No no,” he shook his head. She didn’t understand, especially since he was rock hard. She couldn’t believe him going down on her made him so aroused. “This is all about you. I’ll take care of it.”

“Willy—”

“It’s okay, minskatt. I’ll take care of it,” he said, giving her a kiss before rolling over and getting off the bed. She watched as he disappeared into the washroom and closed the door behind him. She couldn’t think of anything else to do, laying in the bed completely naked thinking about what had just happened, until she thought to grab her underwear and put them back on. She kept herself topless though, as maybe a little treat to William, as she went back to thinking about the feeling of his tongue on her folds, shivering as she remembered.

William was in there for a while before he came back out, seemingly having taken care of it, and climbed back into bed with her. He placed kisses on her breasts and nipples before moving to her neck and finally her lips, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closed against his body. He was topless, too, but kept his boxers on. “I love you, minskatt,” he whispered.

“I love you too Willy,” she said, his body heat and warmth she felt lulling her to sleep so quickly. “Thank you for being my first for that.”

He smiled. “The pleasure was all mine. Go to sleep, minskatt. Go to sleep.”

***

The next morning, William was still in bed with Aberdeen. They’d hardly moved, limbs still intertwined and still holding on to each other like the other would float away. Aberdeen woke up first, her eyes gently opening, noticing and appreciating how close she was to Will. Instinctively – really, she couldn’t help herself – she brought a hand up to his face, barely touching it with her fingertips. The stubble along his jawline and cheeks. The curve of his perfect nose. His soft, sweet lips. He was truly so beautiful. She couldn’t believe he was hers. She couldn’t believe she was his. It was a magical thing to wake up in William Nylander’s arms, knowing that he loved her, and knowing that she loved him.

He shifted slightly, letting her know he was awake – or at least waking up. “Minskatt?” he mumbled, barely audible, before he even opened his eyes.

“I’m right here,” she said in an equally soft voice.

He opened his eyes. He smiled sleepily once he saw how close they were and sighed contently. “I dreamt we were in Sweden,” he whispered.

Aberdeen felt a shiver run up her spine. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “My family was there. My sisters loved you. Alex too. You were sitting by the lake at our house in the country,” he said. “Your hair was down and you were looking over your shoulder back at me. It was perfect.”

Aberdeen couldn’t help but smile. His voice was so soft and his emotion so innocent. “Tell me more.”

“You had on a pretty dress. The sky was blue. So was the water. We could do what we wanted and nobody cared. We could be open with our love and it was so beautiful.”

She felt a small pang of guilt at that. At this point, she knew how bad they both wanted to be out in the open, but life dictated that they couldn’t. She couldn’t just up and quit her job and lose her income. They needed to ride out the wave. It would happen eventually; it just couldn’t happen now. “I’m sorry that we can’t,” she whispered, caressing his face again.

“Don’t apologize, minskatt. We will one day. You’re still the best thing in my life and always will be. I’ll wait forever if I have to.”

It was that statement that got Aberdeen emotional. Here he was dreaming about her in Sweden with him and his family, freely showing their love, but the reality was that couldn’t happen. Yet he said he would wait forever. She wasn’t sure about that. No guy had waited for her before. “But you’ve been waiting already for so long,” she whispered, her eyes welling with tears. “Why are you waiting for so long? Any other guy would have given up and moved on already. Why haven’t you?”

“Shhh, Aberdeen, stop,” he said, squeezing her tighter. “Don’t you get—Aberdeen, you’re it for me. I don’t care that I’m waiting to be out in the open with you. I will wait however long you want me to, alright? You’ll always have me. No matter what happens. You’ll always have me.”

Aberdeen nodded. There was nothing she could say to that. Her heart felt so full at his words. He’d wait. He’d wait as long as he needed to. He loved her. He adored her. She was it for him. “I love you, Willy.”

“I love you too Aberdeen. So much,” he kissed the tip of her nose.

Aberdeen kissed him on his lips, needing to feel them against hers. Like always, they couldn’t stop. “Make love to me Willy…before you have to go.”

He did. It was slow and it was sensual and it was tender and it was everything she could have wanted, needed that morning in bed with him. And afterwards, when he had to put his clothes on and sneak out back to his room, he sat on the edge of the bed and kissed her. “Jag tänker på dig när jag inte ens tanker,” he whispered against her lips.

Aberdeen smiled. She didn’t know Swedish but she knew those words. They were theirs. Theirs and only theirs. Which is why she repeated them back to him. “I think about you when I’m not even thinking.”

243 notes · View notes

smoochkooks · 4 years

Text

—make it right 1 (m.)

⟶ pairing: jung hoseok/reader

⟶ genre: smut (coming in second part!), angst, fluff

⟶ word count: 19k+ (this part)

⟶ tags/warnings for part one: hip hop dancer!hoseok/drummer!hoseok, ballerina!reader, enemies to friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slowburn, mutual pinning, sexual tension, course language, drinking, hoseok’s hot bandmates, oc rolling her eyes at hoseok every five seconds, some banter and sarcasm, etc.

⟶ summary: he was a punk, she did ballet, avril lavigne sings, but truth to be told, there’s so much more than meets the eye about jung hoseok besides his drums, killer dancing skills and unexplained hatred for tattoos and piercings. because, under the layers of leather jackets and washed out joy division shirts, he’s still just a boy who tries to find his place in this big world.

or, alternatively: ballerina meets certain hip hop dancer slash musician who’s on a mission to win her heart with coffee dates and drumming lessons.

⟶ read second (and final) part here

The first time you met Jung Hoseok, it was raining.

September had just begun, welcoming the citizens of Seoul with copious amounts of not-so-summer-like weather. And at this point, after three days of non-stopping rainfalls, you were convienced that mother nature was trying to drown the whole city.

It was Saturday afternoon, last remains of August were still in the air, hidden underneath greish clouds covering the whole sky. That didn’t seem to be any problem for the tourists though, emerging from every single corner with smartphones glued to their hands.

You were running late for your ballet dance teaching class with an umbrella in one hand and your gym bag in another, maneuvering between puddles in white trainers, praying to whatever gods that existed not to soak them through and cursing yourself for constant bad outfit choices when it came to weather. Scorching hot afternoon with friends? Let's wear something black, your brain would suggest. Rainstorm? White converse highs is a great idea!

Your mother would choke you with bare hands probably if she saw you right now.

On your way to the studio, you bumped into some old lady carrying bags of groceries. You threw quick apologies, ignoring the screams of “watch out!’’ along with deathly glares that other people were sending in your direction you, until you finally reached your destination. Exactly five minutes before the time.

Just Dance dance school, located approximately twenty-five minutes long underground ride from your flat (which as a broke college student you highly appreciated), appeared in front of your eyes.

It was a modern building, situated in a part of the city that smelled like soy sauce and burnt meat, but during four months you had been working there you got used to it. There was a nail salon on the first floor and tailor on the second, but the whole third floor belonged to the school.

You started working there on Fridays and Saturdays a while ago, after completely coincidentally stumbling upon an offer found online. The school was looking for someone who could teach kids ballet on weekends. A young, energetic person with experience and, obviously, great patience and sympathy for children.

The only thing you were lacking of was background in teaching. But the manager, Choi Jisoo, did not mind that at all. A row of gold medals and trophies sitting on your shelves was enough to convince her you’re worth giving a chance on a probationary period. After few weeks of proving your skills as the best ballet teacher miss Choi would ever think of, you had got in.

And that was how you dumped your part time job at the petrol station to teach kids at Just Dance twice a week. Friday evenings and Saturday afternoons for a decent amount of money for a college student struggling with real life shit called university fees and rent, that even scholarship couldn’t entirely underwrite.

Now, climbing up the stairs with the speed of light, you knew you couldn’t bring yourself to lose this job because of your silly daytime nap that made you run late for classes.

You bursted into the locker rooms quickly, practically undressing in a hurry. After short examination in front of the mirror and fixing your usual mess of a bun, you spared a quick glance one last time at the clock. Four minutes of delay.

“Fuck!” you muttered to yourself, jogging to the practice room.

The halls, usually quite, now were filled with child-like chatter and bubbling. You frowned. That's strange, you thought to yourself. Your astonishment grew even bigger when you reached your destination, spotting a group of kids, your kids, in front of the practice room, bickering with each other.

“Hey!’’ you shouted, silencing them effectively. “Why aren't you already warming up and stretching inside?”

One of the kids, a little girl named Jiyho, stepped forward. “The room is occupied by some other group, miss. They were here when we came.” she said.

You raised your eyebrows. Did you perhaps messed up schedules and forgot there were some changes? No, that couldn’t be it. “What do you mean ‘occupied’?” you asked. “That's impossible, we've been having this classes every week here, in this room, for three months. I would know if there were any changes.”

Kids looked at you helplessly, shrugging their shoulders.

You sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, of course it's not your fault. I had a really crappy day and now this,’’ you drawled, pointing your hand at the door to the practice room. “Wait here. I’m gonna try to explain this quickly.’’ you added, smiling reassuringly at them.

When you opened the door, loud music filled your ears; some newest Drake's track you couldn’t remember the name of was playing from the speakers. Inside there was a group of kids, slightly older than the ones you were teaching, practing some hip-hop choreography.

Their teacher's back was facing you so you couldn’t distinguish if it was someone you knew from the school's crew. His dark hair with blonde highlights weren't familiar to you though. He was swaying to the rhythm of the music, counting the moves.

You cleared your throat loudly and there was no response. Of course no one could have heard you, not over the loud bass blasting through the speakers. You spotted the cause of your problem, a mobile phone charging in the corner of the room, so you went there and turned off the music entirely just before Drake could sing the chorus.

You cleared your throat again and this time everyone, including the dance teacher, heard you without a doubt.

Kids stopped dancing immediately and turned around, wide-eyed with heaving chests. Their teacher looked in your direction too, and now you were sure he had to be a new employee.

He was not much older than you, probably around your age. There was a thin layer of sweat on his forehead he wiped out with the back of his hand, his white t-shirt with the name of some punk rock band you didn't recognize was slightly sticking to his toned chest. He was good looking, you couldn’t deny that, and there was something devilish in the way he eyed your figure up and down with a smirk plastered on his lips.

You almost blushed under his gaze.

“Is there any problem, miss primaballerina?’’ he asked first, not even hiding his mocking tone.

You straightened up, ignoring his choice of words. “A problem?” you scoffed. “You and your group took the room where I have my classes every Friday and Saturday, so yeah, there is a problem.”

“The room was empty when I came here, so I just took it, it's not a big deal.” he answered, shrugging his shoulders.

“It is a big deal. Are you blind? This room is made directly for ballet dances. See this thing beside the wall?” You pointed behind him. “It's called barre. We used that for stretching in ballet. Of course you don't know that, how an ignorant hip-hop choreographer wanna be like you would know.” you snorted, chuckling to yourself.

In the corner of your eye you saw your kids peeking through the door, clearly interested in this unusual situation.

He narrowed his eyes. “I know what this is used for, princess,” he countered. You rolled your eyes at the pet name he used for you. First primaballerina and now this? Touché. “But I still don't see the point of your outburst.”

You were slowly losing your patience. The amusement in the eyes of his dancing group started to get on your nerves. It was a battle for the life and death and you weren’t used to backing away and losing. You had kids to take care of, rent to pay and new season of RuPaul's Drag Race to watch.

So you picked up a new strategy.

“Are you perhaps new here?” you asked, startling him.

“I am, why are you asking?”

“Because if you weren't new, you would know that there is only one practice room with barres in our school. This one, which also happens to be the room where I have my ballet classes every week.” you said triumphantly with a glint of not-so subtle satisfaction in your voice. “So, can you kindly take your kids and go somewhere else?”

That's it, you praised yourself in your thoughts. You got him, he doesn’t have anything up his sleeve.

The guy, however, seemed very much unaffected by your words. If anything, he was even more pleased, making your stony facade broke in seconds as you were losing your former confidence.

“No.’’ he said simply.

You gaped at him. “What?”

“I said no, princess. I need ten more minutes to finish this practice and I’m done.’’ he replied, reaching for the water bottle standing beside the wall. “Ten minutes, and you will have your bars or barrels all to yourself.”

You ignored an urge to correct him, taking a few tentative steps until you were right in front of him. He outstanded your height for a few solid centimeters, making you feel even smaller than you already were.

In addition, you hated him even more for looking this good even up close.

“Ten more minutes?! I should have started my lesson fifteen minutes ago! My kids are waiting!” You outstretched your arms in the direction where your group was watching the situation cautiously. They looked like tennis match spectators, turning their heads left and right as the argument progressed.

“So are mine,” he snapped back in calm tone, his lips twitching in an amused smile. Your nostrils flared.

“Miss? We could use another room today. We don't mind.” one of the girls from your group, Jihyo as you assumed, proposed shyly.

“But I do mind! I’m not gonna leave it like that!’’ you said firmly, still looking straight into your new rival's eyes.

“Geez, loosen up your primaballerina skirt a little maybe.”

“It’s called tutu, you ignorant assh–!”

“What on Earth is going on here?” the manager, Choi Jisoo asked, entering the room. She was a middle-aged woman, once a contemporary dancer, now leading the school on behalf of her husband. Her red high heels were clicking loudly on the polished parquet surface as she was coming up in your direction. “I heard shouting, so I came to check. Can someone explain me why aren't you having your classes now?”

You immediately rushed to the manager, taking her hands in yours. “Miss Choi, I will explain everything. This man right here,” You pointed at the cause of your anger with distaste written all over your face and he simply rolled his eyes. “took my practice room and I have no place to have my classes.”

Miss Choi turned to look at the choreographer as well. “Is that true, Hoseok?’’ she asked.

The guy, Hoseok, nodded. “This room was empty, so I just took it. I didn’t know someone was supposed to teach here later.”

You scoffed. “There's a graphic hanging on the wall when you enter the building, you should've just–”

“Silence!” miss Choi said loudly and you stopped speaking, face flushed from the embarrassment of being scolded like that by your boss. “Jung Hoseok is indeed new here, so I will let that situation pass. And you, Y/N, will take another room for today’s practice.”

“But–”

“There's no buts. I’m sure Hoseok will know from now on in which room he should have his dance lessons. Go back to your groups, you are dismissed.” she added and left the room, leaving you to stare at her disappearing figure with wide eyes.

You clenched your fists by your sides, breathing deeply to calm your nerves. “Kids, go to the room 23.” you uttered, eyes focused on Hoseok.

He smirked, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “See you around, princess.” he half-whispered and winked.

Beginnings are always tough, and that was why after your first encounter with Jung Hoseok, you were certain you absolutely, undeniably hated his guts.

The second time you bumped into Jung Hoseok, it was Friday evening two weeks since ‘the accident' and you were walking out of locker rooms after your practice.

When you opened the door and heard strangled cry of “Ah, fuck!” you rushed to blurt out quick apologies to your victim. “Oh my God, I’m so–” you started but immadietly shut your mouth when you saw the person who you just hit.

Jung Hoseok, in his full glory of another The Clash t-shirt (you googled their music your first encounter with him and the only nice think you could say about them was that Jonathan played their song in Stranger Things first season) and yes, grey sweatpants (did he even own other clothes?) was standing before you, grinning in the most annoying way you could ever think of.

You wished you could wipe his smug expression off his face with sand paper.

“Fancy seeing you here too, princess,” he trailed off, leaning against the door and making you roll your eyes like every time you saw him on the halls of Just Dance. Even though you were avoiding him like a plague, he seemed to appear wherever you were. A true pain in the ass.

Maybe you were too stubborn, maybe it was your shitty coping mechanism, but decent conversation with someone like Jung Hoseok wasn’t your favourite part of the day, not after the way you were humiliated in front of your boss and underaged students.

Last week you walked past Hoseok's group and some of them giggled. You could swear they were already making jokes and memes about you behind your back.

And, the worst of it all, an absolute peak of your devastation, was the fact that even your own kids, those who were looking up to you, started to be more reserved around you. Jihyo baked some muffins because she had birthday the other day and didn’t treat you. Jihyo, the girl who once had told you she wanted to be like you in the future.

But none of this anymore.

You turned on your heels and started to walk away but Hoseok followed your footsteps. “Hey, it's rude not to apologize. My right hand hurts now, you know? I need you to kiss it better, princess.” he called, again in the same mocking tone he had used before.

And that was the moment you decided that if choking people to death had been legal, Jung Hoseok would have been already lying dead on the floor.

You ignored his words the best you could, acting like he was invisible. Avoiding the problem wasn’t the best idea you could ever think of, your mum would say but she wasn’t there, so you concluded it was better to act like Hoseok and the situation with practice rooms two weeks ago had never happened.

Hoseok, on the other hand, had very much different outlook on this. “Are you still mad about this thing with practice rooms?’’ he asked, looking at your right profile. You clamped your mouth shut, staring forward. He chuckled. “Christ, I didn't know you're that picky. Are all primaballerinas like this? Right, you are giving me silent treatment, I forgot. But can you please stop and listen what I have to say for a moment?”

After hearing his last words you actually stopped in your tracks, causing Hoseok to do the same.

You sighed heavily. Maybe he was right after all. You were a bitch sometimes, you couldn’t handle the defeats well and above all, you had probably the worst coping mechanism ever.

That was not the end of the world, somebody would say. Don't worry, be happy, Bob Marley would sing if he hadn’t died. Sparing one minute for Jung Hoseok wouldn’t make the ground to open in half underneath you.

“Go on, I’m listening,” you said, choosing casual tone of absolute unbotherness.

Hoseok took a deep breath, before he started speaking. “Listen, I’m sorry about what happened two weeks ago. It wasn’t intentional, I swear. As you know, I’m new here and you can argue or not but people sometimes deserve second chances,” he remarked, observing your reaction. You should stop rolling your eyes at everything that came off his mouth. “So, I thought we can go for, uhm, a coffee maybe? Tomorrow, after our classes.”

You raised your eyebrows, gawking at him.

“It's all on me. As an apology.” Hoseok added sheepishly.

A coffee? With Jung Hoseok? A hip-hop dancer who didn’t know what barre was? You opened your mouth to snap “am I joke to you?” but you stopped eventually.

To be fair, you had nothing to lose. He wanted to apologize after all, he was the first one to approach you and maybe that was how adults should act.

You looked at him once again, more intensely this time, trying to find any sort of fake politeness in his expression. But in his eyes there was nothing but genuineness. Maybe Jung Hoseok really just wanted to treat you in lieu of apology.

Finally, after a minute that seemed to last forever, you softened. “Fine.”

Hoseok's eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. Stop staring at me like that or I will change my mind.” you grumbled and he grinned at you boyishly, in the way he probably made people fall for him. Because with that kind of aura he emitted, it was hard not to. Thank God you could easily resist his charms.

“That's settled then. Wait for me after your practice in front of the locker rooms.” he said, while walking away backwards. “See you tomorrow, princess!”

When he disappeared behind the corner, you muttered to yourself, “See you too, asshole.”, adjusting the straps of your gym bag.

It was a good while after that day when you realised that some people really did deserve second chances.

And Jung Hoseok was one of those kind.

Your third meeting with Jung Hoseok was a date. Actually, it wasn’t a date at all. You called it ‘coffee for the peace’. United we stand, divided we fall, they said.

Or to paraphrase Fergie: little coffee never killed nobody.

You found yourself standing in front of the mirror in the locker rooms, eyeing yourself with contorted look. Your hair was a mess, which you blamed the weather for. Even though mother nature stopped bombarding the city with rainfalls, the humidity was still there, lurking around the corners and waiting for the right moment to attack. You didn’t even know why you cared so much about your appearance. It was just a coffee, nothing more, nothing less, for God's sake.

With a sigh, you bent over to tie your shoes, and then you heard a voice coming from behind you. The same low, teasing tone that could only belong to–

“Didn't know you've been hiding this under your ballerina skirt all time,” Hoseok mused. “What a waste.”

You twirled around with a speed of light, facing him with slightly pinkish cheeks. It wasn't everyday that someone non-explicitly talked about your ass, especially someone like him. It wasn’t even on full display because you had your leggings on and you knew he was joking but still, your face felt hotter.

“What are doing here? You aren't supposed to be here, it's ladies locker room!” you hissed.

Hoseok shrugged his shoulders. “You’ve been here forever, so I decided to check if you didn't slip on your point shoes and died.”

You raised your left eyebrow. “Very funny. Now give me a minute and we can go wherever you want.”

“Watch your words, princess, beacuse I might take your offer seriously.”

He couldn't see you but you rolled your eyes hearing him say this regardless. You took your bag from the porch and turned around to face him with a bored expression written all over your features.

“Don't act like you're doing this as a punishment. You won’t regret, I promise,” After climbing off the stairs, Hoseok opened the door and you embarked on a street. “This place isn't far away from here, just a ten minutes walk.” he explained, choosing a direction you didn’t know.

To distract yourself a little, you started to observe the neighborhood. It was less crowded here, the usual smell from cheap restaurants was less palpable now. You were walking down the street you weren’t familiar with, you hadn’t had a chance to explore it like that yet.

It was dead quiet between you despite the hustle of the city. You weren’t used to this kind of silence and even though you certainly weren’t a master of small-talks, at least you had to try loosen up the heavy atmosphere a little.

“So,” you trailed off, “You seem to know this part of the city pretty well.”

Hoseok hummed, taking another turn that seemed to be some kind of a cutoff. “My old dance school I used to go is here, in this area,” he said. “I moved to the boarding school in Seoul from Gwangju when I was sixteen beacuse I wanted to pursue dancing. My parents weren’t very fond of it, but I told them that high school I chose had a very promising programme for kids who wanted to be business majors in the future as they wanted me to be.”

“And did you do something with that? Business, I mean,” you asked.

He scrunched his nose. “Nah, not really.” He looked like he didn't want to elaborate on that more, so you didn’t press him further. “Enough storytime for now. We're here.”

There you stood in front of a simple coffee shop like many others. Blue Side, signboard said in swirly fonts and English spelling. There was nothing distinctive about it, just an ordinary place you could find in neighborhoods like this in every single city, but you knew places like this one sometimes had living souls inside, telling their own stories.

Blue Side indoors looked exactly like the name was saying: azure walls, paired with modern white chairs and tables, grayish cloths adoring them. Classy, tasteful decor, someone would say, but one thing seemed completely out of place: big, framed pictures of sunflowers, your favourite plants, hanging on the walls like on a blue sky.

There was something bizarre about it, they didn’t match the rest of the decoration at all but at the same time they seemed to fit perfectly. They were bringing strange kind of calmness and halcyon aura to the place, marked with cold tones but broken through the yellow warmth.

Hoseok lead you to the table by the window. There wasn’t a lot of people beside you here, so a young looking waitress with dyed pink hair approached you pretty quickly, handing menus. She grinned broadly at Hoseok, too courteous for your liking, and for a moment you wondered just how many coffees the waitress served him before. Probably a good amount, judging by the way he returned the smile.

You looked through the positions briefly, before deciding on a simple espresso. Hoseok didn’t even open his. Regular customer, you thought to yourself, flesh and bones.

Awkward silence fell between you again and this time Hoseok was the one to break it.

“It's weird seeing you without your ballerina outfit,” he said, startling you. “And your hair isn’t in a bun today,” He pointed at the top of his head, tracing invisible circles in the air.

“Is that a bad thing?’’

Hoseok’s smile was smug when he spoke. “Not at all. You look good like this. Not so dramatic.”

You huffed. “I'm not dramatic.”

“Says the person who almost kicked me and my kids out of the practice room, and called me hip-hop choreographer wanna be.”

You opened your mouth to snap a witty response at him but the pink-haired waitress came to collect the orders. Maybe you were losing your mind but you could swear her lips weren't tainted in fuschia before.

“Just an espresso for me,” you said, sending the waitress a forced smile.

“Caramel frappuccino with–” Hoseok started, but the waitress interrupted him.

“With extra cream, got it.” she finished his sentence, clearly proud of herself.

You bit your bottom lip, trying to suppress an urge to chuckle. Hoseok sent a polite smile to the girl and averted his gaze to you. The points of his ears were slightly flushed in red.

“So yeah,” he uttered, scartching the back of his neck. “Where were we?”

For a moment you thought about teasing him a little more, but eventually you resigned. He looked enough flustered right now and you’re not that devil as you had thought.

“We were talking about me looking dramatic with a bun and tutu on,” you prompted instead.

“You know that's not what I meant.”

You ignored him. “Anyway, you too don't look today like a hip-hop choreographer wanna be.”

That was true, he didn’t remind you of the sweaty Hoseok in grey sweatpants you were seeing every Friday and Saturday on the halls of Just Dance after blasting Spotify Global Top 50 for a whole hour.

This Hoseok who was sitting in front of you was wearing ripped jeans and leather jacket paired with ankle boots you wouldn’t mind buying for yourself in a smaller size. Daredevil, that was a good word to describe him. Dangerous, daring, and maybe d–yeah, dumbass, your brain suggested.

Yet, one thing was still the same about him.

“What's with you and those t-shirts?’’ you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Hoseok snorted at that. ‘’I like the band, so I wear t-shirts with their name on. It's as simple as that, princess. But I don't expect you to understand since you probably don't know who Joy Division is.”

You placed your palm on your chest, more offended by his words that you would like to admit. ‘’Of course I know who Joy Division is. I'm ballerina, not stupid,” you scoffed. ‘’Love will tear us apart is their song, isn’t it? I’ve been through this edgy phase on Tumblr in 2015. I know what I’m taking about.”

Hoseok looked at you with raised eyebrows and there was something in his eyes you couldn’t put your finger on. Was it amusement? Curiosity?

You didn’t have a lot of time to think about it though, because the waitress was back with your orders. Again starstrucked by Hoseok. Again smiling sweetly like kpop female idols on music shows.

While she finally put your coffees on the table (she spent definitely too much time doing it) and walked away, you spoke once more.

“I don’t get it,” you said and Hoseok muttered “what?”, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’ve never seen someone doing a choreography to Drake's song and be dressed like cliché rock band member the next day.”

Hoseok placed his cup down and looked at you with a smirk. “I have many faces you don't know about yet, princess.” he warned. Dangerous, daring, dumb–

“And when am I going to find out?” you countered.

“If you keep going for a coffee with me after our practices, I might reveal more of myself to you. As long as you are going to do the same in return.”

At that, you raised your eyebrows. Hoseok's eyes were challenging, asking you to pick up the dare and get to know him more and more, slice him layer after layer. Your subconscious was telling you there was so much more than meets the eye about Jung Hoseok than his annoying retorts and edgy t-shirts. And you were there to witness all of it.

“Fine,” you finally agreed, eyes narrowed. “We can hang out after classes. Sometimes.”

Hoseok grinned. “Great. Now, let's start getting to know each other!”

You're eyes widened comically. “Woah, slow down, boy. You know my name, know that I teach ballet and that I like espresso. What else should I tell you on our first dat–meeting?” you corrected yourself quickly. Date was a sacred word. Definitely not reserved for a man like Jung Hoseok.

“Oh, please. I also know it's better not to get on your nerves,” he pointed out. Smartass. “Tell me about how all of this happened. How did you become a ballerina.” he suggested.

You took a big sip of your coffee. “That's a quite long story,” you said languidly.

“I don't mind. We have time.”

You stared at him for a moment. He looked slightly out of picture, sitting in a quiet coffee shop, drinking a cup of the sweetest drink you could ever think of, while wearing clothes that made him look like he belonged to shady bars, where he could be surrounded by sleazy people sipping on their scotch whiskeys. There should have been a cigarette caught between his lips and fumes of smoke swirling around his features, but there was solace and the smell of caramel. Jung Hoseok, with a picture of sunflowers behind his back looked like no one you had ever met before.

And this kind of enigma that was this boy inflamed a strange curiosity in you.

So you picked up a dare.

“Well,” you began, “It all started when I was in kindergarten. You know how it is, when you are five years old and your parents want to divert their unfulfilled ambitions into you. You could say I was this type of kid, kinda. My mum was a ballerina when she was young, so was her mother, but when she got pregnant with me in very early stage of her relationship with dad, she had to stop her career and took care of me. Dad was constantly working, travelling here and there to gain as much money as he could for us,” you explained.

“Mum always told me that my grandparents weren’t quite fond of their relationship. Especially my mum's. You know, dad used to be some kind of a bad boy back then,” you chuckled, remembering the pictures mum showed you. Leather jackets, motorbikes and self made cigarettes. “Grandma constantly blamed him for ruining mum's dreams, for debauching her and then, I happened,” you paused to gulp a sip of your coffee and continued. “So yeah, my grandma never forgave dad. However, after years she had grown to tolerate him to the point she didn’t throttle him during Christmas.”

You smiled, thinking how your dad and grandma avoided any unnecessary conversations between them. It was all civil, good mornings and goodbyes spoke in casual tone, but the tension was so thick that any sudden impulse, like dad talking about old times after a few glasses of wine, could break everything they had built through years.

“It was actually my dad who took me to the ballet classes first. My mum never wanted me to follow her footsteps but dad somehow tried to, I don't know, redeem himself? He felt responsible for a long time and when I think about this now, he just wanted to make his daughter a next little ballerina so my grandma could be pleased.”

Suddenly Hoseok interrupted you. “But don't you think it's unfair your parents did that to you because your mum couldn’t, you know, continue her career anymore?” he asked and you were pleasantly surprised to see him intrigued by your little story.

You hummed, contemplating this for a second before you answered. “You’re right, maybe it is slightly unfair but I actually grown to love ballet while the years passed. And seeing my mum happily watching my performances is enough for me.” you said. Ballet was your whole life, it always had been, there was no point of denying it.

“What about your grandma then?”

“She died a few years ago. But I think she was proud of me. She never told me that verbally though. She was pretty bad at expressing feelings, but I know she was proud. I saw it in her eyes after my first big étude.”

It was in middle school, back when you were living in your hometown. Your group was performing Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker and you got one of the leading roles. You never forgot the look in your grandma's eyes when she approached you after the performance.

“And what now?” Hoseok asked and you looked up at him. “What are your plans for the next, few years?”

“Now, I still have a couple of years to double major from ballet dances and psychology. And what would come after, we will see. I have a big performance in January that will determine something really important for me. And as for the future-future, teaching kids ballet seems really nice.” You smiled lightly.

You didn’t like to talk about your big performance aloud, since you weren't quite sure of what future was going to bring. It determined if you would get into four-months-long international scholarship in Russia or not. Only one person could win this. And you were strong-willed to at least try. You dreamt about it your entire life. To finally dance on the stage of Bolszoy Theatre, maybe go on a whole tour around the world with their crew. But that was for now a matter of your own luck and abilities.

“Wow,” Hoseok mused. “You have this all planned out, princess.”

You rolled your eyes. “That's just a goal, not actual plans,” you grumbled sheepishly. “What about you? Are you really a hip-hop choreographer wanna be?’’ You giggled but stopped abruptly when you saw his expression seemed to have changed. Gone was cocky, grinning boy he was just minutes ago. Now in Hoseok's eyes was some kind of sadness and melancholy that wasn’t there before. It didn’t suit him. He was smiling, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“No plans. I’m just living the moment.” he said matter-of-factly, like he was trying to play it the most casually he could. It was strange behavior.

Maybe Hoseok was right. He did have a lot more hidden underneath the layers he put on everyday. He just didn’t want to show it. Not yet.

The atmosphere condensed between you. It was thick and heavy with strange tension. You tried to loosen up it a little. It was probably your personality trait your friend would directly connect with your zodiac sign. “So,” you chimed in, “for how long this waitress has been giving you heart eyes?”

Asking that was completely unplanned but you had to think about something quickly, offhand. Hoseok’s features brightened a little and you didn’t know if it was because the question was about the girl or because you were the one asking him it.

Ironically, you hoped for the latter.

“Chaeyoung, you mean?”

Oh, he knew her name. Interesting.

You tightened your grip around the cup unconsciously. “Is there any other waitress here who has a crush on you?”

Hoseok smirked after hearing your snarky remark but chose not to answer that. “Actually I’ve never had more explicit conversation with her, unless it was about the coffee. Maybe I should try, what do you think? She seems nice.” His eyes wandered for a moment to the place where the waitress stood, talking to a customer.

You smiled but there was no true politeness in this. Why though, that was something to think about on another occasion. “Yeah, you should. Totally.” you gritted through clenched teeth.

“Yeah, totally.” Hoseok agreed, nodding.

For a minute it was mute but then he glanced at your empty cups and a small smirk appeared on his face. “So, where are you taking me next?” he asked out of the blue.

You blinked. “What?”

“I treated you this week, your turn is next.”

‘’I’m not gonna buy you food, the fuck. You treated me as an apology! I don't-” You stopped your outburst when you saw him snickering at you. “Why the hell are you laughing?’’ you snapped. There was probably a blush on your cheeks and you cupped them briefly with your hands to cover it.

“Because I was kidding. You don't have to buy me anything, I can pay for myself. Relax, princess.” Hoseok grinned. He didn’t seem to be as uneasy as before, so you scoffed at him. “But honestly, where are we going next weekend?” he asked, entirely serious.

“What makes you think I want to go anywhere with you?” you challenged.

He just sent you his signature, cocky grin. “Am I that bad company?” he teased.

“Decent. You’re decent company, Hoseok.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Don't be. That's just me trying to be civil.” you warned, pointing your index finger at him.

“Great, I’ll text you about it soon then, princess,” Hoseok announced simply, ignoring your surprised expression. He reached for the menu still lying on the table and opened it. “They serve good lemon tarts here, want some?” he proposed, going through the other positions briefly.

You furrowed your eyebrows, still processing what he had said earlier. “You don't have my phone number.”

“I do, actually,” Hoseok mumbled and his lips twitched.

Your eyes narrowed into slits. “How did you get my number?”

“Soyeon. I asked her and she gave me.” Hoseok answered simply, shrugging his shoulders.

A shocked gasp left your lips. “Soyeon, the receptionist? You swooned her over to get my number? She's married!” you exclaimed, staring at him in disbelief.

Now it was Hoseok's turn to roll his eyes. “Not my fault she couldn't resist my smile and sweet words.”

You sighed heavily. He was really testing your patience.

“Well, what about those lemon tarts?”

You tossed your head back, groaning in frustration that was probably heard by every single person passing by the coffee shop on this September afternoon.

However, you missed the way Hoseok's lips stretched out in a warm, sincere smile.

You did end up having those lemon tarts that day.

You couldn’t explain why or how, but in some way coffee meetings after dance lessons on Saturdays were no more just them. They turned into late dinners on Fridays and random text messages when you were bored during your lectures, which most times were eventually escalalting to Hoseok sending you tiktoks and memes you had saw million times before yet you laughed at them anyway.

It was a start of promising friendship, someone could say. Unexpected, with not so smooth beginning but blossoming into something much more than simple hanging out in your free time. But none of you seemed to notice it, not yet.

Before you could even blink, summer was officially over and fall started to make her way into the weather. Warm cups of coffee started to feel more and more reasonable with each passing day and one time you found yourself holding one while visiting Hoseok at his work.

It was Wednesday, you didn’t have any classes at uni that day and he texted you if you could come to the address he had sent. And you did, ignoring the cold wind and forgetting about the warmth between your sheets you had to leave. Which had been surprising even for you; a sacrifice for someone like Jung Hoseok, but again, you weren’t categorizing it like that yet.

That’s how you found out about Hoseok's other job. He worked at the Suga's Record Shop, where, as he had described it: you could buy legendary pieces of music while listening to another million dollar hits. He’d said he took the position at Just Dance because the actual interest in buying vinyls unfortunately wasn't increasing, so the guy who owned the shop, Min Yoongi was his name, had decided to reduce Hoseok's salary.

The shop looked like pulled out straight from 80s movies, with tons of records of probably every single artist you could think of. There wasn’t anyone beside you inside, so Hoseok walked you around, picking up different albums, classics, as he had said and showing them to you. He kept talking about them with true admiration written on his features, babbling about how Joey Ramone and his band invented punk rock and you found yourself watching him with amusement glittering in your eyes.

Days, weeks passed and it was already October approaching, turning green parks into wide range of colors that could only be described as autumnal.

You kept discovering more and more similarities between you and Hoseok than you would like to admit. One of them being your laicsm when it came to manga and anime. The solidarity was made one Friday after practices, when you both agreed on not understanding the hype after seeing some poster hanging out randomly on the street.

Music taste however, was another cup of tea. It was something Hoseok took his pride in, that was why he kept sending you various tracks encouraging you to listen to some good stuff until one day, with raised eyebrows, he learnt how wrong his previous assumptions about you had been.

“Oh my God, my song!’’ you exclaimed, when The Neighbourhood’s Softcore started playing while you were sitting at the Blue Side. It looked like the pink-haired waitress was absent, so were the latest k-pop tracks she constantly played in the coffee shop.

“You know them?’’ Hoseok asked, looking at you with bewilderment in his eyes.

You snorted at him. “Told you I had that edgy vibe in 2015 when everyone listened to Sweather Weather. The t-shirts are long gone but my love for Jesse Rutherford stays untouched.”

You started mouthing the lyrics but Hoseok interrupted you. “I thought you would be into some k-pop type of shit.”

He received a roll of your eyes in return. “Hey, don't disrespect k-pop like that! There are nice songs out there, people just choose the worse ones usually and complain how trashy they are.” you said, pointing your index finger accusingly at him.

Hoseok lifted his arms in defending pose. “Fine, fine, don’t cancel me. What about classical music then. Since you are dancing ballet and all,” he drawled.

“Do you want to know a secret?’’ You leaned over the table and whispered, earning a nod from Hoseok. “Most ballerinas know nothing about classical music unless they are pieces we use for our routines. Ask them about their favourite and the answers would probably be Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. I'm most ballerinas.”

There was a moment of silence before you both erupted into laughter.

For people looking at you from the distance, laughing together until tears formed in your eyes, teasing and throwing playful snorts, you might have looked like you had known each other for years.

Something was ending, leaves were falling off the trees and sun hid behind the greish clouds but in the warm embrace of a small coffee shop two people found themselves in a hold of affection they couldn’t escape, no matter how hard they tried.

Because love sometimes comes into people’s lifes unannounced, tearing apart their souls and making them vulnerable for others’ healing touch.

It was late evening on Friday, when you were sitting at your favourite ramen place, bonding over food like it was the most natural thing to do, talk between next chews, bites and occasional slurps of Hoseok's mouth.

Miss Lee's ramen was cheap, not fatty and what was the most important – not popular among other residents of your neighborhood, so not many people decided to show up that evening as well. That became the reason why you had suggested meeting there with Hoseok after your lessons.

You were in the middle of playing 100 questions game, a new found way of getting to know each other better. It was completely Hoseok's idea because he seemed to be the most eager man to learn more about you that you had ever met in your entire history of dating which, sadly, wasn't impressive.

Last time someone asked you so many questions, you were doing personality tests on Buzzfeed.

Now it was your turn to ask something and after discovering that Hoseok poured milk before the cereal, liked green the most from all colors and was scared of needles (that's probably why he didn’t have any piercings, you thought to yourself) you decided you were really bad at this game.

But then, you recalled the interview you had recently watched with some k-pop group and after swallowing a generous amount of pasta, you aimed the target.

“What's your most prized possession?’’

Hoseok, however, answered without a second thought. “My drums.”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you looked at him in confusion. “Drums? Like the instrument?”

“No, like the cannisters.” he snorted sarcastically.

“So you can play?” you continued, ignoring his witty retort.

“Yes, I do. I started learning when I was a kid. My dad owned a music shop. He was renovating old instruments from time to time and that's how I was gifted drums on my 10th birthday. The same ones I have till this day.”

You hummed. “So you’re hip-hop dancer slash drummer? And what, you play in a rock band too?” you laughed but stopped right away when you saw his serious expression. You gasped. “Oh my God. You do play in a band! And you didn’t tell me sooner?!” you exclaimed loudly. Young couple sitting few seats from you sent you deathly glares. You mouthed “Sorry!” and directed your attention to Hoseok again.

He simply shrugged his shoulders. “There wasn’t an opportunity before,” You shook your head in disbelief at that. “Told you I’ve got a lot more to reveal.” He smirked and fuck, you hoped the blush that covered your cheeks right now was from the spice noodles you had eaten.

So Jung Hoseok and his love for leather jackets and old bands wasn't unreasonable. You hated yourself for wanting to see him play, sweat covering his forehead and lips bitten in concentration. What a sight it could be. Truly mesmerizing.

You had to stop your brain from wandering through such dangerous territories.

“So,” you started after clearing your thoughts, “Are there any other hot musicians in your band?” you asked, regretting your choice of words as soon as they left your lips. You wanted to slap yourself mentally.

“Did you just call me hot?”

“In your dreams. Now tell me about your rock band,” you blurted out quickly and let out a shaky breath afterwards. That was very much close to a catastrophe.

Yet you didn’t miss the way Hoseok's lips lifted up in amusement, trying to hide the laughter blossoming in his throat. “We are actually a punk rock band. There’s four of us. Namjoon, electric guitarist and the leader who sticks us all together since 2016. Jimin, in charge of vocals and bass guitar, and the youngest member, Jungkook, vocalist and bass guitar player as well.”

“How did you all meet then?’’

You weren’t even hiding your curiosity at this point. You justified yourself by thinking it was your only chance to be as close to the real (punk) rock band member you would ever be.

“You probably won’t believe me, but we all met at the university. I was studying business for a year before I dropped out of it and that's how I met Namjoon, who’s been my roommate ever since,” Hoseok said. “I met Jungkook and Jimin through Namjoon. He introduced them to me saying they all took part in some underground concerts for amateurs and after that they started hanging out together. You might say it was a coincidence we all met like that but I don't believe it. I think we were meant to come across each other eventually, you know, to save punk rock together.” He laughed to himself after finishing his little story.

You smiled at him genuinely and there was no mockness in this, it was true sympathy and probably something else, not so easy to describe.

You imagined four boys, with head full of dreams and hearts filled with raw passion, doing something the world didn’t believe in, but they had enough faith in themselves to prove everyone wrong.

“So how’s the band called?” you asked.

“Punk’s Not Dead.” Hoseok responded, cheeks bright red with mortification.

“Punk’s Not Dead,” you mused to yourself. “Sounds nice. Clever, I would say.”

“It's actually a name of the movie. It was Namjoon who made it up. He's the smartest from our group. After all he isn’t studying law without a reason.”

Your eyebrows lifted in interest. “A future lawyer playing in a punk rock band? I thought nothing is gonna surprise me after hearing you, hip-hop choreographer wanna be, are also a drummer. What about the others? Doctors? Stripteasers?”

Hoseok chukled lightly. “No, none of that. Jungkook and Jimin both work together as mechanics,” he answered, reaching for his now empty ramen bowl. You gaped as his calloused fingers adored with rings curled around the item, moving it to the side. Hoseok had pretty hands, you noticed. Hands of musician.

Sudden idea popped up in your head. “So when am I gonna hear you playing live?” you asked, smirking at him.

“Soon actually.”

“Soon?”

“Yeah, soon. We are having a gig next Saturday at Namjoon's brother bar. You should come.” Hoseok suggested.

What kind of hollywood movie plot it was, you didn’t know, but you found yourself enjoying the main female protagonist's role probably too much.

“Next Saturday,” you mumbled to yourself, counting days in your head. Right, it was the day your best friend was coming back from Los Angeles and you had to pick her up from the airport.

You bit your lip. Ah, fuck it.

“Fine. I’ll come,” you said. ‘’But can I bring my friend as a company?” you added and Hoseok smiled broadly.

“The more people, the better.”

It was a while after the concert when you learnt it wasn’t entirely a good idea but right now, with Jung Hoseok and his cocky grin he was flashing you, nothing else mattered.

Incheon International Airport was a place utterly unfamiliar to you.

Last time you had visted it, was when you had been in ripe age of ten, welcoming back your aunt Jia from her ‘life journey’ to Tibet.

Aunt Jia was an extraordinary lady, she had proved it announcing the whole family her departure to Tibet for a six months long ‘detox’, nearly giving your mother heart attack when she had talked about bonding through the nature and finding her inner peace in a temple among Tibetan monks.

But it was years ago, now aunt Jia was older and her interest in buddhism was way more sustainable, limited to buying different Buddha figurines in art decor shops.

So today, you were at the Incheon International Airport for the second time in your life, again welcoming, this time your best friend Hana from her almost two years long stay in United States.

You met three years ago, both freshly graduated from your high schools and starting a new, adult life in Seoul as roommates. You had become close friends pretty easily, sticking together through ups and downs of dealing with real life shit, as you used to call it.

Ballerina and soon to be actress, both too dramatic for this world but getting along just fine through a whole year, until one day Hana had announced over a bowl of cereal she had received an opportunity to go on an international scholarship in USA she had always dreamt about. A lifetime chance, one in a million, as she'd said. Learning acting from American professionalists, walking down the never ending sunshine streets of California. Something only outstanding people can experience.

That was how Hana had ended up in Los Angeles, the City of Stars and the world's factory of make-believe. Thousands of kilometers away from home. Today, she was going to step on her country's ground for the first time in two years since she had been gone and you were more than thrilled to see her again in person.

She hadn’t exactly told you why she was back, neither she had explained for how long or, what was the most important and disturbing: why this was happening all of a sudden. And something was telling you it was all too suspicious, a perfectly wrapped half-lie.

Hana said someone from her old friends from acting school had told her that the National Theater was preparing to do Victor Hugo's Les Misérables and suggested she should try her luck with castings, since she had played the main role while being abroad. It sounded convincing though, how wouldn’t, she was a good actress after all.

That was Hana’s version of events. How really was, you didn't know, not yet. But you were sure something about this whole situation was too strange to be true. And you were determined to find out exactly what.

It was late morning in Seoul, foggy and with definitely too much humidity in the air. You were standing in the arrivals hall holding a self-made sign, produced out of boredom and your true love for DIY Pinterest ideas. Besides your friend’s name, you had painted palm trees on it and added glitter that was still stuck to some parts of your bedroom floor. You probably looked ridiculous holding it in your hands but you didn’t care, shifting from left foot to right. Waiting.

When you were about to check the time, you saw people coming up in your direction with suitcases in their hands. And then, among a crowd of nameless passengers, you saw a familiar blonde pony-tail and black polka-dot suitcase that could only belong to one person.

You could feel the roll of your best friend's eyes before you actually saw it, Hana shaking her head and chuckling to herself because of the absurd sign you were holding.

When Hana was approximately ten meters from you, you cleared your throat and half-yelled in flat english, “There she is! My California girl!”

People around looked in your direction with both distaste and amusement but Hana only sighed, until breath was knocked out of her lungs from the sheer force of your hug.

“Oh my God, I missed you so much!” you mumbled into the material of her grey coat.

“We talked and face timed each other practically everyday,” Hana grumbled but deep down, even if she didn’t say it, she missed you too.

“That's not the same!” you protested. “Lemme look at you properly,” You pulled away from the hug, putting your hands on Hana's shoulders and eyeing her carefully. She looked skinnier than three years ago when you had met but that was a question for another occasion. Her skin, gingerly touched by Californian sun, made her look like she had just come back from holidays abroad. “You're definitely too tanned for October,” you pointed out, earning a chuckle from her.

“Come on,” Hana said, tiredness clearly apparent in her voice. “Let's get away from here.”

Back in the Uber that was driving you to your place, the atmosphere seemed to shift. Unspoken questions were lying at the tip of your tongue and you wanted to let them out instantly but you knew better. No rush, one information at the time. So you started from the simplest one, or you just thought it was.

“Did you tell your parents you're back?” you asked and Hana visibly grimaced after hearing it. Of course she didn’t, there was no point of lying.

“Not yet.”

“When are you going to tell them then?”

There was a pause on the other side of the seat and followed by a heavy sigh, Hana responded. “They still think I’m in California because my scholarship physically ends in two months. I will visit them home as soon as I’ll settle down in Seoul again.”

Settle down? You furrowed your eyebrows. She was going to stay for good here?

“So what are your next plans?’’ you wondered aloud.

“Go to that try-out in the theatre next week, see if my stay in America was actually worth something,” Hana chuckled dryly, almost bitterly. “I was also thinking about finding some part time job so I could afford a place on my own once I get back to acting regularly in theatre. I don’t want to overuse your kindness.”

“You're not using–” you started to protest but Hana cut you off.

“I am practically throwing myself at you because I don't have a place to live. But don't worry, that's not for a long time.” She smiled lightly and you reciprocated the gesture. Hana then turned her head to the window, looking out of it for a while as you passed the streets. She murmured something about the weather that you didn’t hear well because your thoughts were somewhere else.

You tried to digest all the revelations your friend had just told you. It looked like Hana wasn’t planning on coming back to Los Angeles any time soon or she wasn't going to do it at all, but that wasn’t the most puzzling issue about the whole situation. It was strange because she’d never said anything about staying abroad for longer, not even once, until she met him. That happened to be some kind of an anchor for her, a reason why she had started questioning openly her further life choices. Had something happened that she changed her mind completely?

You caught in the corner of your eye the sight of Hana absentmindedly playing with the ring on her finger and you decided it was now or never, you had to ask her or you will never be able to muster up the courage.

“What about Taehyung?” It seemed out of the blue, vocalized so suddenly but deep down it wasn’t. And Hana knew that. Her fingers ever so slightly tightened around the ring and then pulled away. “Does he know you’re staying?”

She didn't visibly flinched, didn’t scrunch her eyebrows or purse her lips, didn’t protest. Maybe it was because she had been taught how not to show any emotions, maybe it was because she didn’t want to show any emotions at all. Her face was blank when she spoke, eyes distant and thoughts probably far away from the small space of the car.

“Taehyung recently got a role in some new Netflix series. One of the main roles actually, so it's going to take him some time to finish recording.” she said, not answering the question and she was well aware of it. It was right there on the tip of her tongue but she hesitated. Maybe the realization was too much to handle for her.

“So he seems to enjoy his stay in America,” you trailed off, watching as Hana smiled lightly but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Yeah," she nodded. “He is.”

And that was enough of an answer for you.

You had been watching Hana falling for Taehyung for solid two years since she had left grey streets of Seoul to drown in Californian paradise. They met in acting school and got the scholarship together. The most divine, the most talented students the school had. Somehow over the thousands of kilometers of homesickness they started dating. And you were happy, you couldn’t be more glad seeing your beat friend chasing her dreams with a person who cared about her by her side. But the news about engagement few months ago had come as a shock to you, although you had not said anything. Hana's smile when she had showed you the ring had been enough to convince you of her happiness.

Right now, sitting by her side and listening to her talking about it so emotionless, so blankly, you were sure that in every single Hollywood fantasy there was a crack.

“So, here we are.”

After opening the doors to your apartment there was a slight pause, before you spoke again. “I know it's nothing special but for that price and in location so close to my uni I couldn’t find anything better. It's small but–”

“Can you please stop rumbling for a second?” Hana interrupted you abruptly. She was literally standing in the door with the suitcase still in her hand because you didn't let her in any further. “I told you it's okay. You allowed me to stay here even though there's barely enough space here for one person.”

“But still, the bathroom is like the smallest I have ever seen... Oh, and there's a soy sauce stain on the wall in kitchen because I still haven’t figure out how to remove it and–”

The door banged loudly and you jumped from the sudden noise.

“What the fuck! You know how easily I get scared!” you exclaimed, placing a hand on your chest, calming your rapidly beating heart.

Hana shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve had enough of your stupid complaining. Now, show me where will I sleep beacuse I feel like passing out any second now.” She placed her suitcase on the floor, taking off her coat and kicking off her boots.

When you were living together as roommates, Hana was the one who organized the chores and yelled at you after making a mess and not cleaning up. She had been doing it as a matter of habit even during her absence.

“Sleep, yeah,” you muttered to yourself, shrugging off your coat as well. “Technically there’s no second bed here but you’re going to sleep here,” you explained, pointing out at the small sofa that was standing in a place you called ‘living room' just because it was connected directly to the kitchen. Beside the sofa, it consisted of the lamp and a tiny glass table where usually was a mess of your belongings but right now it was all cleaned and polished.

Hana slumped down on the sofa, closing her eyes. “God, I missed that. There was some yelling kid on the plane and their parents couldn’t shut them up,” She sighed tiredly. “Now I can nap for the rest of the day. And night.”

You bit your lip, looking at her slumped body. Today was Saturday, the day of Hoseok's band concert you had been invited to and you still didn't prepare your outfit or, what was the most important, for the whole week you hadn’t messaged Hana about the fact that she was, in fact, invited too. You felt guilty asking your freshly out of twelve hours long flight friend to come with you but you had no choice.

“Hana,” you started and it already sounded pleading, not casual. She cracked one eye open. She knew when you had some buisness to her and it seemed like that now. “I know you’re tired, jet lagged and all but what would you say to a power six hours nap and going to a punk rock concert tonight with me?” you blurted out quickly.

Hana opened her eyes completely and now was looking at you dumbfounded expression on her face. “What?” she stammered out.

You moved to sit next to her on a sofa and took a deep breath. “So here's the thing. You know I work at the dance school now right?” you began and Hana nodded slowly. “I met a guy there. He teaches kids hip-hop. His name is Hoseok and he actually isn't only a dancer, he's also a drummer. And it might sound stupid but he plays in a band too,” you explained, avoiding her burning gaze you could feel on your skin. However, if you looked in her direction, you would see the soft smile adoring Hana's features. “We kinda started hanging out about a month ago and recently he invited me to his band's concert. And I really want to go but I thought you could accompany me cause I don't wanna be there alone all the time so, yeah.” you trailed off sheepishly.

There was a bit of silence and you were waiting for Hana to scold you but instead you received reaction you weren’t expecting at all.

“You’re dating some guy and you didn’t tell me?!” Hana bursted out. She had a mixture of disbelief and probably a little bit of betrayal written across her face.

You held your arms up in defending pose. “We aren’t dating!” you protested, scandalized someone could ever put words dating and Hoseok's name next to yours. “It's just some casual hanging out after work, just friends. Friends.” you repeated.

Hana rolled her eyes at that. She knew you better than you would like to admit but she decided not to tease you about it any further. “So, is he hot? He must be, he's a drummer after all and they are hot in theory,” She wiggled her eyebrows, nudging you with her elbow while you groaned in frustration.

“If that will make you happy, yes, he is good looking,” you sighed. There was a tiny bit of blush covering your cheeks. “But as I said, we’re just friends!” you emphasized the word again, looking at Hana intensely like you were trying to embed it in her brain so she wouldn't think something else.

“Will you go with me then? Please? I need emotional support.” you pouted. “Besides you owe me for letting you stay here.” you added and it might have been a little unfair move to maake but you didn’t care about that.

Hana sighed heavily, like she was really contemplating the decision even though she had made it a while ago, just to keep you in suspense for a little longer. She fought and urge to ask about said emotional support while Hoseok was only a friend and instead she nodded her head.

“Fine, I’ll go,” she said, lifting her index finger before you could crash her body in a hug. “But I need to take this nap first.”

You grinned at her. “Thank you, thank you,” you kept mumbling, cuddling her body tightly against her protests.

“Now lemme wash and sleep.” Hana grumbled in annoyed tone but you knew she wasn’t mad at you at all. Deep down, even after layers of well trained, measured actions she had a good heart.

“Punk’s not dead? What kind of name for a band is this?”

You were standing before the door to the bar, side by side, watching as different people, mainly young, were passing you and coming inside. Hana eyed the pink poster that said ‘Free entrance!’ with her arms crossed over chest.

“That's the name for the punk rock band.” you said with a glint of annoyance in your voice, not even sure why somehow affected by your friend's words. You liked the name, it wasn’t obvious and sounded catchy. For you at least.

Hana snorted. “I hope they are worth my jet lagged self that I’m sacrificing here for you.” she sighed, averting her gaze from the poster hanging on the window and pushing the door inside.

The bar, Dionysus, was Namjoon's brother’s property, as Hoseok had explained to you. They played their mini concerts here since they had met, actually gaining money from this because the owner was letting them take some part of the earnings from alcohol buying. Also, there was always a small box on the bar counter where people could throw their money inside if they wanted to support the group directly.

Inside, there was a respectable amount of people already standing before the stage where everything seemed to be set up, except for the actual band members that weren't present, apparently hiding at the ‘backstage’ until their main entrance. You spotted drums standing at the back of the stage and you suddenly felt not so sure of yourself.

“There's a whole stage here? Geez, they didn't come to play,” Hana wheezed to herself, taking in the surroundings. “Do you want to drink something first?” she whispered into your ear.

You glanced at your phone to check time before answering. “I don’t know. I kind of want to be by the stage when they start playing.”

Hana nudged your side. “Relax, I will push my way through those girls in leather skirts for you. Come on, let's warm up a little.”

You looked in the direction of the stage once again but eventually gave up, letting her drag you to the bar. Maybe the drink wasn’t a bad idea. You didn't quite know if you could survive the evening completely sober.

The tall, handsome looking bartender smiled at you cheekily when you sat with Hana by the bar.

“What can I get for the lovely ladies?” he asked, eyeing you both misheviously.

“What do you recommend?” Hana leaned her head on the hand, smiling at the man as well.

“I could make you my absolute speciality: Aphrodite’s nectar.” the bartender suggested.

“Go on, surprise us.” Hana said, earning a confident smirk from the man before he turned around to make your drinks. She rolled her eyes, pulling a few bills from her purse and throwing them to the self made money box with ‘Thank you for the support – Punk's not dead’ caption.

“I could pay for myself, you know,” you muttered under your breath but loud enough for Hana to hear.

“Shh, don't say anything and let me support your friend with a generous tip before the actual show. Hope they’re worth it.” Upon her words, the bartender handed you your drinks with “Here you go.” followed by the cocky grin.

Hana frowned when she saw pinkish liqueur poured to the vodka-size glass. “Seriously? This is his speciality? Pink coloured vodka? Isn’t that supposed to be called sex on the beach?” she scoffed and drank the substance in one go, flinching after she swallowed. “I've had better.” she commented dryly.

You followed her actions, drinking up the alcohol as well. You coughed a few times before you asked, “Can we go now?” It sounded like a childlike pleading but you didn’t care.

Hana nodded after exhaling loudly and you both made your way to the stage, like she had said earlier – pushing through the crowd of other people. There were shouts of swears and insults thrown at you from every side but Hana didn’t give a fuck, practically dragging you by your hand while you were muttering quick apologies to every single girl in leather skirt.

When you reached very front of the stage, Hana grinned at you. “See? Told you we’ll be in first row. God, I haven’t been to punk concert for a very long time.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “You've been to a punk concert before?” you asked, confused with her words. Hana seemed to be taken aback by this question, like she just realised she had said something she hadn't indent to.

“Yeah. In high school. Like I said, long time ago.”

“Why didn’t you–” you started but immadietly stopped, when the lights went out followed by the oooh! from gathered people. “Oh my God it's happening,” you half-whispered, clutching Hana's hand.

“Youjust referred to The Office without watching it.”

“Shut up!” you muttered, ignoring Hana's giggle.

Next thing you knew, sharp lights shimmered and few, firsts accords of electric guitar resonated through the bar. You absentmindedly squeezed Hana's hand tighter. Then, more lights flashed, along with the thumbing sound of drums and the whole stage illuminated with bright, silver colors.

You didn't even realise you were holding your breath the entire time. You eventually got back to your senses when one of the boys started singing an unknown to you song, probably self-written by them. His hair was pink and you recognized him as Jimin, remembering the photo Hoseok had sent you where he had captioned everyone. Jimin was leaning towards the micstand lazily, like he was purposely doing it this way. His guitar was dropped on his back nonchalantly.

Next was Jungkook, the youngest in the group. His mop of black hair was nodding along to the rhythm of the music, his eyes and attention solemnly focused on his guitar. He didn’t wear any jacket and his muscles on ink-covered arms flexed with his every move.

On the other side of the stage stood Namjoon, the one who Hoseok lived with and referred as the leader of the group. He also had some tattoos on his forearms but not as many as Jungkook. He smiled lightly at the crowd when someone shouted his name, showing the tiniest of dimples on his cheeks.

And there it was the last member. Hoseok.

Your breath hitched in your throat. You had seen him dancing a few times before in Just Dance, ever so passionate but this was different kind of passion. He was fierce, completely devoted to what he was playing, hitting the notes like his life depended on it. He didn’t had any tattoos adoring his skin and his ears weren’t pierced like his friends' but he had an exeptional energy in him, power that he emphasized with every move, every tap of his drumsticks. For you, he was the most divine of them all, the brightest spot on the stage. A born performer, flesh and bones.

The song was catchy, something quite similar to the ones Hoseok had sent you after many ‘pretty pleases' from you. Jimin and Jungkook's voices were blending together just fine and you found yourself bopping to the rhythm of the music until you felt Hana's hand on your shoulder. You turned around in her direction with a smile that quickly disappeared when you saw her expression. She looked like she had just seen a ghost. Even in the dimmed lighting you could distingiush she was paler than before.

She leaned towards your ear and half-yelled, trying to outshot the crowd, “I need to get some fresh. I don't feel well.”

You looked at her with worriedly. “I'll go with you,” you declared but Hana stopped you.

“No, stay here,” she protested firmly. “Enjoy the show. I'll wait for you outside until it's over.”

“You sure?” you asked, earning a nodd from her along with a light smile that didn’t look much convincing but before you could say anything else, Hana was making her way through sweaty, bouncing bodies again. You watched anxiously as her blonde hair disappeared between the mass of nameless people and then, the song was over. You released a long breath and glanced at the stage.

Namjoon took the mic and tapped on it a few times. “Ehm, hi. We're Punk's not dead, as you know probably,” he chuckled lightly, making you smile, despite the uneasy feeling in your chest about Hana. “I'm Namjoon and I’m the leader of the group. I thought it could be nice if I introduce everyone before we start so... here we go. On the left, there's Jimin,” He pointed at the pink-haired man and audience, mainly female attendants, cheered loudly. Jimin smirked lopsidedly.

Namjoon continued, “Next there's Jungkook,” The youngest lifted his head and smiled boyishly in bunny-like manner, scrunching his nose in process. He looked familiar, you thought to yourself. Strange.

“And, our amazing drummer: Hoseok!” Namjoon presented and you screamed upon hearing Hoseok's name before you could realise what on Earth you were doing. Hoseok stood up from his seat and grinned broadly, waving to the crowd. Then, miraculously, his eyes landed on you and if that was even possible, his smile visible widened. You thanked whatever gods that existed he couldn’t see the way your cheeks flushed.

“Thank you for coming here today. I hope you'll have a great time,” Namjoon said. “And now, we are going to play our new song called Cigarettes after sex*, written and self-composed by Jimin. Enjoy.” he finished, nodding to his friends.

The song was beautiful, it carried the lash of melancholy and sadness behind every single word that Jimin sang and he visibly felt it too, making it seem even more real by the sheer emotions of heartache written on his beautiful features.

They played a few more songs after that one, some of them were covers of the bands you were familiar with thanks to Hoseok and his signature t-shirts. Before you could blink an eye, it was over and Namjoon was thanking everyone one more time for coming and then they disappeared behind the black curtains after receiving a loud applause for their performance.

You stayed like that for a while, still basking in aftermath of everything that had just happened, humming to yourself some melody from one of the songs you had heard tonight. You turned your back to the stage, watching other people leaving the bar. Lost in your own world, you definitely didn’t hear footsteps behind you.

“Did you enjoy your time, princess?”

You jumped in your place, twirling to the direction of the voice you knew so damn well. Hoseok was smirking at you while crouching down on the stage. His friends were also there, behind him, packing their stuff.

When you calmed down your breathing enough, you shouted, “What the fuck, Hoseok?! I told you to not do things like that to me!”

He only chuckled in response, smiling cockily at the furious flush on your cheeks. “I asked you a question,” he reminded.

What was it? Ah, right, he asked about the concert. You pursued lips, crossing your arms over chest. You wanted to say it was showstopping, spectacular and all those adjectives Lady Gaga had used in that famous meme video of hers but you didn’t.

“It was decent.”

A smirk appeared on Hoseok's face. “Decent, huh? Wouldn't say so, after seeing you cheering so loudly in first row,” he teased. ‘’I'm flattered. I’ve never had such devoted fan of myself.”

He thought that pink blush which colored your cheeks was cute. Fuck, you were cute, trying to cover your embarrassment with an unamused expression.

“I cheered for your friends, you know? Not you.” you mocked but it was pointless, he was already standing up from his position, knowing what was the truth.

“Come on, let's go to the backstage,” He made quotation mark on the word backstage while saying it. You grimaced. “There’s nice after party setting up there,” he tried again, this time pouting slightly and you eventually gave up. You had promised you would come, after all. Hoseok grinned when you followed his footsteps, walking to the supply base at the back of the bar.

“Jungkookie!" Hoseok shouted before he twisted the knob, whirling around for a quick moment. Jungkook lifted his head up in Hoseok's direction. “Don't forget to close the door when you finish packing!”

The youngest member nodded, going back to his previous work.

Beside you and Hoseok's bandmates, inside the ‘backstage’ was the same handsome bartender from earlier, Namjoon's brother as you assumed, and a woman with dark, shoulder-length hair that stood next to Namjoon, leaning into his body. He had his arms wrapped around her, talking to his brother about something. She introduced herself as Minhee, Namjoon's girlfriend, extending her hand to you in friendly gesture when you approached them with Hoseok.

“Oh, we met before, by the bar. I’m Seokjin, the owner of this lovely place.” Namjoon's brother, Seokiin, said, shaking your hand.

“Hyung, you can't give it a miss, can you,” Namjoon grumbled behind his back but Seokjin ignored him. That wasn’t probably the first time he flexed about owning a bar, you thought to yourself.

“How did you like the concert, darling?” Seokjin asked you suddenly.

You rushed to reply. “Oh, it was really nice! I’ve never been to anything like that before but I enjoyed it very much.” you responded. Hoseok muttered something about you being a liar under his breath but you acted like you didn’t hear him. “I really liked the second song, the slow one.” you added, averting your gaze to Jimin who was sitting with his head bowed down in front of the vodka bottle.

Seokjin patted him on the shoulder. “Yah, did you hear that Jimin-ah? You’ve got a fan of your sad songs here!” he said, breaking into laughter but Namjoon stopped him by sending his brother a warning look. Jimin though barely even acknowledged his or your words, lifting his head up for a brief moment and eyeing your figure without any emotion on his face. Then he got back to the glass of alcohol again, pouring the substance into his mouth in one go.

“He broke up with his girlfriend like six months ago or something and still hasn’t quite move on,” Hoseok whispered into your ear. You let out an “Oh,”, sending one last apologetic smile to Jimin, even though he wasn’t looking at you at all.

Hoseok motioned you to sit by the table with others and you positioned yourself between Namjoon's girlfriend and Hoseok. The only absent person seemed to be Jungkook who was probably still fumbling with packing their stuff.

The conversation was oscillating around the concert. Hoseok mentioned that the audience had been much bigger than the last time and Namjoon kept babbling about some technical issue with his guitar that you couldn’t understand.

“Don't worry. I've been with him for three years and I still know shit about what he's talking about too," Minhee said to you, probably after seeing your clueless expression. You both bursted out into laughter.

You were supposed to ask her how had she and Namjoon had met but Seokjin interrupted you, walking in with a bottle of champagne.

“Where the hell is this kid Jungkook?” he grumbled. Hoseok quickly explained he was packing their stuff on stage when he last had seen him. Seokjin hummed and placed the bottle on the table. “And what about your blonde friend, darling?” he directed next question to you.

You froze in place.

Holy shit. You completely forgot about Hana.

You didn’t respond to Seokjin, so he assumed you hadn’t heard him and went back to opening the champagne bottle.

You pulled out your phone from the pursue and cried out in mortification after seeing the messages.

[22:11pm] Hana: I was at mcdonalds across the street lol im heading to the bar now

[22:11pm] Hana: come up for me please

[22:15pm] Hana: ???

10 minutes ago.

“Fuck!” you muttered under your breath, frantically typing a response.

“Is everything ok?” Hoseok asked, his voice laced with concern.

You shook your head. “I forgot to come up for my friend after the concert. She wasn’t feeling well so she left and stayed outside.” you hastily explained, already standing up from your seat, clutching your phone in hand. Hoseok followed after you.

You pushed the door open, although the sight you saw behind them wasn’t anything you could ever expected. The surprised words escaped Hoseok's and your mouth simultaneously.

“Hana?”

“Jungkook?”

They stood facing each other, looking like they were interrupted by you mid conversation, probably in too close proximity for people supposed to be strangers. Hana's astonished face leaned out from behind Jungkook's tall body in the direction of the voices. Slowly, like she didn’t expect to be caught this way. And that was weird, beacuse she looked like she didn’t want to be seen in Jungkook's presence by the others, like their close proximity was something that shouldn't have been acknowledged.

Jungkook turned around as well, however ever so recultanty. And then, when you saw his face clearly now, jet-black hair and inked arms, it all crashed you like a wave. That was why he seemed to look so familiar. You knew him, maybe not personally, but you knew who he was. The boy from Hana's photograph she had pinned to her cork board when you had been living together. A beach with crystal blue sea behid their backs, the same boy yet with less tattoos than now, carrying your friend on his back, both grinning to the camera like it had been the happiest moment of their lives. Until one day Hana was gone and so was the photograph.

You felt like you were interrupting something too intimate for you to step in with your shoes like that. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but Hoseok helped you out instead. And you thanked him for that mentally because you weren’t sure of your mouth anymore.

“Looks like your friend is safe and sound.”

Hana snapped out of her previous shocked haze upon hearing his words and automatically composured herself. She took a few meassured steps away from Jungkook. Gone was the slight shock on her face, she was back to her calmed persona. “Yeah, I'm all good. I was about to text you I’m going home.” she said, her words directed to you. She then exchanged quick glances with Jungkook, glances that could look the simplest from other people’s perspective but not for you.

Hoseok though, fortunately, didn’t seem to feel something was apparently off here. It was for the better he thought like that. “So you won't stay to celebrate with us?” he asked Hana.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. He was still standing there, unsure of what to do

Hana shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m still tired and jet-lagged from my flight so I will just wish you great time and go.”

“You sure? I can go with you too, if you want,” you suggested after containing yourself enough to finally vocalize some thoughts. But Hana only smiled at you. Forcefully, which didn’t miss your attention.

“It's okay. I want you to have fun. I already called a cab for myself anyway” she reassured.

Hoseok protested. “Someone could drive you home. I’m sure Jungkook wouldn't mind–”

“It's fine, really.” Hana said firmly and you knew by the clench of her fists she was slowly losing her patience. At the same time, Jungkook's eyes flickered ever so slightly after hearing his hyung's words and then went back to his previous unreadable stare.

Seeing Hoseok opened his mouth to protest, you took his wrist, hoping he would take the hint and not add anything more.

“I must really go now. Take care of Y/N and have fun.” Hana smiled politely, looking at Hoseok and he reciprocated the gesture. She didn’t really acknowledge Jungkook at all, even though he had somehow his gaze fixated on her the whole time. But Hana did that all pursposelly, so Hoseok couldn’t suspect anything. She wasn’t stupid after all. Well crafted actress knew how to act.

She came up to you, hugging you briefly. “We'll talk tomorrow.” she whispered into your ear because she knew that you couldn’t be fooled so easily, that you felt something was not right from the very beginning since she had announced her comeback from the States.

Hana waved one last time to you, exiting the bar. You could swear Jungkook's eyes lingered on her figure a little too long to be considered unbothered, until he turned around and went back to the stage. You prayed Hoseok wasn’t going to ask him what had he been talking about with Hana or why did he even decide to approach her like that.

“Come on. Let's go back. Jungkookie will close the door.” Hoseok said instead.

You listened, letting him take your wrist and walk to the supply base for the second time tonight. You wondered for a moment if Jungkook was going to chase after Hana, but you shook your mind from those thoughts. It wasn’t your life to make decisions and judge them.

A little while after you sat on your seat again, Jungkook came back as well and you somehow felt the rush of relief swimming through your whole body. He slumped down next to Jimin on the couch and said something to him you couldn't make out exactly, but pink-haired man laughed bitterly at that, filling his best friend's glass to the brim.

Next two hours you spent there passed like a blurr. You kept talking with Namjoon's girlfriend practically the whole time. You found out Minhee was studying medicine and she had met Namjoon through some discussion club she had joined in her freshman year. It had been attraction from the first disagreement, as she described it cheekily.

When Namjoon called for Minhee to talk about something on the side, you averted your attention to Hoseok who was sitting in front of his empty glass and scrolling through the phone, clearly discontent with you intentionally avoiding his attempts to tease you about something you had said, or avoiding him in general.

“Aren't you drinking anything?” you asked him with raised eyebrows.

Hoseok snorted. “Someone has to drive you home, princess.”

“Bullshit. I can take the cab.”

“Well then, I don’t feel like drinking anyway.”

You eyed him carefully and then it hit you. “Oh my God,” you blurted out, trying to stifle the giggles blubbering in your throat. “You are not drinking because you are a lightweight!” you accused, not even hiding your amusement now.

“That's not true,” Hoseok grumbled but his red ears gave him away. He was a bad liar.

You pushed his chest with your index finger. “Admit it!”

Hoseok looked at the ceiling and sighed heavily. “Fine, I am. And what about it?”

You giggled. It was probably some champagne mixed with wine you had drank with Minhee speaking through you but you didn’t falter when you said, “Nothing at all. That's cute.”

Hoseok frowned. “Cute?”

“Yeah, cute. You're cute when you're flustered.”

Hoseok parted his lips in both disbelief and annoyance because relatively speaking, you took it out from his mouth. It was his remark, for God's sake, he was the one supposed to say things like that to you. He hadn't drunk even a drop except one, symbolic glass of champagne yet he wanted to argue with you about it like five years old child. Because if anything, you were prettier and yes, cuter than him, and he had a sudden urge to spell it out for you.

Yet he faltered for a moment after hearing abrupt glass crashing from the other corner of the room. You looked in that direction too, seeing half-conscious Jimin slumped down on the couch, Jungkook sitting next to him and saying things to him you didn’t hear. You could make out only “hyung” and “please, calm down” falling from younger's mouth.

Jimin seemed like he had no idea about what was going on around him. When he opened his eyes for a moment they were bloodshot and glassy, probably from too much alcohol he had drank before, or maybe even from something else entirely. Then he murmured something to Jungkook and black-haired boy sighed, standing up from his position and approaching Namjoon and Minhee furiously talking about something in the far corner of the room.

“Here we go again,” Hoseok breathed next to you and you scrunched your eyebrows, focusing your attention on the scene in front of you.

“Hyung, please–”

“No, Jungkook. We can't do that again.”

“Please, I swear it's the last time. He won't let me take him home unless it's with her,” Jungkook pleaded. “It'll worsen anytime soon. I don't want to see him like this."

Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you think I don't know that Jungkook?! Last time was supposed to be last. And now it's happening again. We can’t continue it like this,” he said, looking in Jimin's direction where Seokjin was trying now to convince him to let go of the half empty vodka bottle Jimin was clutching tightly to his chest.

“Hyung...”

“Stop arguing. I already texted her like 20 minutes ago when I heard he started talking about her again. She's on her way,” Minhee interrupted. “But this has to end. He–they can’t live like that.” she said and Jungkook breathed out heavily with relief, thanking her over and over.

Hoseok hummed next to you, making you jump slightly on your seat from the sudden sound so close in your proximity. “What's happening?” you asked him and he let out a long sigh.

“I don't think you want to see that. I should take you home.”

But before you could answer, someone banged loudly on the back door. Seokjin moved from his seat and opened them, letting inside a girl around your age, dressed in all black. Her hair was dyed in red and she didn’t have any make up on, assuming by the ungodly hour she might have been woken up or she hadn't gone to bed at all.

“Who’s that?” you whispered to Hoseok’s ear.

“That's Nari,” he answered simply, like her name was carrying all the needed information without giving into other details. “Jimin's ex girlfriend and probably the only source of light in his life.”

Nari moved automatically, like it definitely wasn’t the first time she was in similar situation. She crunched down on the floor in front of Jimin's slumped body and touched his thigh lightly, murmuring his name. Jimin's eyes snapped open at that and he blinked a few times, focusing on the sight before him, like he couldn't actually believe she was there, with him, like his head was messing with him and betraying the bloodshot eyes.

“Nari,” he muttered and it sounded unsure, pained. “You're here. You came.”

“Yes, I��m here.” she replied with a soft smile, standing up to sit next to him on the couch.

Jimin's hands reached for her, cupping her face in his shaky palms, thumbs stroking rosy cheeks, checking if she was really here, flesh and blood. “You dyed your hair,” he said softly with croaked voice, putting a strand behind her ear. “You look beautiful.”

It all felt too intimate for you, like you were stepping into a scene you weren’t suppose to be in. You quickly averted your gaze somewhere else. In the corner of your eye you spotted Jungkook looking at what was happening in front of him with blank expression. He had seen it probably many times before, after all. Suddenly, strangled sobs echoed through the room and everyone involuntarily snapped their heads into direction of it.

Nari was hugging Jimin's shaking body, rocking him back and forth as he cried out words into the material of her jacket.

“Please, don't leave me.”

“I won't. I’m here. It's okay,” she kept murmuring to his ear until his breath slowed down enough so she could say, “Let's go home.”

She motioned for Jungkook and he obliged, helping her lift Jimin's limp body from the couch like he weighted nothing. They left without a word, just like that, and heavy silence fell in the room. No one was in right mood to continue celebrating, not after everything that they had just witnessed.

Namjoon was the first one to break the silence. “We will be going. It's been a long day.” he said, placing his hand on Minhee's waist.

“Indeed.” Seokjin agreed. “I’m gonna go upstairs to my place too. I’ll clean up in the morning.”

Hoseok also stood up from his seat, putting his palm on your shoulder. “Come on. It's time for us too.”

You nodded, rushing to bid everyone goodbyes.

Outside, in the middle of the night, where all the demons had left humans bodies making them vulnerable for the bracketing world, you took Hoseok's hand in yours. It was warm, despite the coldness of the air.

“What would you say if we took a walk by the river? I need to clear my mind.”

The puffs of air around your face when you spoke were telling you it was a bad idea, but Hoseok smiled in response.

“I’ll lead the way.”

Long walks by the river were meant for warm summer nights when sun set lately and rose in the very morning before you could blink an eye open. They were meant for the steamy nights, when people didn’t have to worry about the coldness, when they could wander under the starry sky with bare shoulders and heavy eyelids.

October absolutely wasn’t reasonable time for the walks in the middle of the night but this time he weather was kind, merciful. There was no sight of the frost and even though it wasn’t the most pleasant aura, even though hands had to be tucked deep in pockets of the jackets, everything could be bearable.

Maybe somehow, when you reached that point in your life, circumstances stopped being the most crucial, as long as you were with the right person.

Boulevards by the Han River were common spot for the citizens and tourists but not in this time of the year, not when fall was threatening everyone as a trailer of the winter. Colorful lights illuminating themselves on the surface of the water were always the same, no matter which part of the year it was; always mesmerizing, always spectacular even for the people seeing them every single day.

This night however, they seemed to shine not as bright as the stars.

“I feel bad for Jimin and this girl,” you said, breathing out the puffs of air in the process. It had been silent between you and Hoseok since you had left the disaster of a party until this very moment, when you finally gathered up enough courage and inhaled cold air to clear your mind and vocalize your thoughts. “Do you know why did they break up?” you asked Hoseok.

“I don't know the details, just overall,” he answered, keeping his gaze ahead of him. “The only person who knows the truth is probably Jungkook but he had never told us anything.”

You hummed, digging your fists into the pocket of your jacket deeper.

Hoseok continued after a while. “I didn’t lie when I said she was the only source of light for Jimin. Beside her and music, he has nothing to cling onto in his life. There's no Jimin without music. Always has been.”

The images from the previous hours shimmered behind your eyelids. Jimin onstage, feeling himself, singing like he wanted to burn his throat dry, playing the guitar like he wished his fingers grated on the strings. A fierce passion in his eyes, as if he wasn't doing it out of the habit; losing himself in the drumming rhythm because that was his only ability. Then you saw the energy slowly draining away from his body, you saw a broken man, vulnerable to the world he had never had any intention to care about, now caring about him.

You wondered about the others. Was music their one true love and burden?

“What about your friends then? Is music really that important for them too?”

Hoseok thought about an answer for a little while until he decided to respond. “Jungkook grew up with Jimin in the same hometown. Childhood friends, always sticking together through ups and downs, younger doing exactly the same after the older. Jimin always took care of Jungkook and now Jungkook is watching by Jimin.”

You let your mind wander for a moment to Hana. How did she meet Jungkook? There was no doubt they knew each other before she had become your roommate. Did she know Jimin too, if they were raised in the same town? Another couple of questions you were yet to ask but this could wait for now.

“The band and music it's their whole life. They aren't like Namjoon, level-headed with actual plans after he finishes his law studies. Music is just a hobby he's going to put off once he's out of uni.” Hoseok added and there was some sadness about the way he did it, like they were another words at the tip of his tongue he wouldn't dare to say aloud because when unspoken, they hurt less.

“And you?”

Hoseok raised his eyebrows. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. Who am I talking to?” you sassed lightly. “How do you see yourself in three years from now?” you asked and Hoseok chuckled the same way he did when you questioned him about it a month ago in Blue Side. Bitterly.

You motioned for him to sit on one of the benches standing by the boulevards.

“Do you have everything planned for the next three years?” Hoseok countered instead of actually answering you. He waited for you to roll your eyes but you did the exact opposite.

“Well, my mum always tells me that it's good to set up your goals. Even though sometimes you might disappoint yourself when they turn out all wrong.”

Hoseok chuckled. “There's a ballerina speaking through you, princess. And motivational speaker, too.”

“Maybe, but that's not my point,” you fired back, twirling around on the bench so you could sit cross-legged in front of him. “So, Jung Hoseok, hip-hop choreographer wanna be and passionate drummer, will you tell me what are your plans for the future?” you asked again. When you saw him hesitate, you added, ‘”Come on, pretend it's like our 100 questions game. I asked you a question and you shall answer.”

Hoseok sighed heavily. “I think I told you once that I just live the moment,”

“But everyone has some dreams,” you complained. Go on, tell me something boy, are you happy in this modern world,” you sing-songed, breaking into loud laughter in the process that made him chuckle shortly.

Hoseok stared for a few seconds blankly into the calm surface of the river before him, watching as colorful lights changed from blue to green. Sadness blending into hope. He took a deep breath before he spoke.

“Remember when I told you I had moved to Seoul to attend dance school there?” You nodded. “And how I told my parents I was going to study business really hard so they could allow me to learn dancing?” Another nod. “Well, my parents were never quite fond of my passions. First it was drums but they knew from the beginning I treated it more like a hobby than a future career, so they let me do it. Then dancing came. I found something I really wanted to pursue in my life and they, how to put this, never quite accepted my choice.” he said, looking at his hands folded on his lap.

You had never seen him more uneasy, the smiling Hoseok who teased you and and spoke about music with glint in his eyes was long gone and you didn't like this version of him at all.

“You know, I’ve got an older sister. She was-is the apple of my parents eyes. The better child, the best daughter they could ever imagine. She studied abroad, speaks English and Japanese, has a well paid job that makes her afford a nice apartment in Seoul on her own. They wanted me to be like her too, but I guess I never came up to their expectations.” The words he never willed to tell, slipped from his mouth just like that, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.

There was a sadness coming from his voice and you found yourself wishing you could swipe it off his face because it didn’t suit him, because gone was Hoseok that made you laugh and played his drums like his life depended on it. Hoseok who conveyed his fierce passion for dancing to the kids he was teaching. All the layers he was putting on every day were slowly slipping off him.

And in that moment you thought how unfair this world was. Your parents gave you wings to fly, to make your dreams come true but his parents were trying to cut them off his whole life.

“I went to the university so I could finally please them, so they would say: ‘Hoseok-ah, we’re so proud of you!’ but I eventually realised it's not for me. That I can't live like this. I met Namjoon, then the rest of the boys. We made a team and I've never felt more free,” Hoseok confessed and for the first time this night, he looked you in the eyes honestly, deeply. “So if you asked me, what's my dream, I would say I just want to be happy. I’ve never wanted to be the best. I just wish I was doing what I love the most, dancing and music.”

You opened your mouth to say something but he raised his hand, stopping you. “If you want to pity me, don’t. I don’t need this.” he said, but it was your turn to shake your head.

“No, I want to say something,” you firmly protested. You lifted your index finger up, pointing at the blackboard sky. There was determination in your voice, a need to convince this boy he was worth much more than he thought. “See those stars? There are literally millions of them on the sky, looking exactly the same from our perspective yet we all admire them. And I’ll tell you more. Every single one is different, special on its own terms,” you said, all the time beating the air with your hands. You ignored the way Hoseok stared at you with raised eyebrows and continued, “Now think about the sun. Yes, it is the biggest star, giant thing and the centre of our solar system but it’ll burn your eyes if you look at it for too long. Those significant stars won't do it and we all wish our dreams to come true while looking at them falling, not at the sun.”

A small smile appeared on Hoseok's face and you reciprocated that, sighing softly. “What I’m trying to say is that you don't have to be the greatest to be admired and respected. You are your own star.” you trailed off, almost whispering the last words like you were afraid of vocalizing them.

You were staring into each other eyes for a whole minute, before you got insecure and looked away with flushed cheeks. “I'm sorry. That was my probably still a little drunk self speaking, don’t mind me. Hana would say it is also my zodiac sign's personality trait.” You put your hands on your cheeks, finding them warm from embarrassment despite the coldness of the night.

If you glanced in Hoseok's direction, you would see him grinning broadly. Who was this girl, he had no idea. He just felt she was going to be someone special for him. His own green flashlight illuminating on the clear surface of the water.

“No, it's okay. I really appreciate that. Thank you.” he said, making you hesitantly turned to face him with raised eyebrows.

“You're welcome. I guess.”

“So,” Hoseok drawled, pointing his chin at you and then on the sky. “How do stars align tonight for Aquariuses?” he asked out of the blue. You thanked it was the middle of the night, so he couldn’t witness the way you furiously blushed.

“Why don't you look for yourself?” you whispered, staring up at the dark, starry sky.

But why would he look at the stars, if for him all of them hid in your eyes?

At some point, next weeks turned into a blurr while gloomy November was approaching, blending everything into grey reality. Life seemed to move on its own and it could be thought that things went back to normal again but deep down, behind set up facades, there was so much more left unspoken than revealed, lying bare and exposed on the table.

You balanced your life between classes at the university, ballet rehearsals after hours and doing your part time job on weekends. With the midterm exams getting closer and closer, you somehow still managed to find time to hang out with Hoseok.

It was weird for you, to spend so much of your free time drinking coffees at Blue Side, eating ramen after practices on Fridays or just listening to him babbling about some other hilarious story involving him and his friends as you walked together to the underground station, with your hand in his under the umbrella, referencing to Rihanna's song probably too many times than necessary.

And normally, looking at you from afar and up close, seeing the intimacy you shared in your stares and muffled laughters, someone could swear you were already dating, that this hanging out carried so much more meaning than you would like to admit. But for some reason, neither Hoseok nor you wanted to speak about this aloud, to give your relationship a label much more bigger than simple friendship.

People around you noticed, obviously, it was hard not to. Some of them teased, others decided not to bring up the subject for the sake of not starting a storm in a teacup.

And life went on like that, day by day, as fall was cleaning the world from the last remains of summer, behind blurry windows a new spring was blossoming for two people.

In the middle of November Hana moved out from your appartment after composing her life enough to afford a place on her own. She got a role in a theater, doing rehearsals every weekend and keeping her mind busy with work during weekdays, because she indeed had a lot to handle since she had come back. And certain raven-haired boy being present again in her life wasn't helping in this situation at all. If anything, his position in the equation made everything much more twisted and complicated.

While your friend was burried deep in her scripts and old blurrs of memories, you were equally engulfed with paper work for your exams. You would have been probably still staring at the same pages for the whole night, if you hadn’t received a message from no one other than Jung Hoseok himself.

[18:56pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: get your ass up from the couch and go out with me today

[18:56pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: theres some punk rock concert today organized on the campus of YOUR uni

[18:58pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: namjoon gave me his tickets since he cant go with his gf

[18:59pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: actually im surprised you didn’t tell me anything about this concert. shame on you princess

There was a string of emojis after the last text and you rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your heart fluttered in your chest when you read go out with me, but you eventually composed yourself. Because after all this time, you thought it meant nothing. Simple hanging out, nothing more, nothing less.

[18:59pm] me: fyi i need to study

[18:59pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: come on one free night wont make a big difference

When you weren’t responding for a while, leaving him on read, he typed:

[19:03pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: pretty pleaseee

But he didn’t know you were already in the bathroom, notes long forgotten on the couch.

“They were sooo bad!”

“Hey, don’t be mean. At least they tried!”

“Oh please, I’m not punk rock expert but I know this Paradise City cover sucked.”

You were walking out of the small campus venue for the concerts, laughing until your lungs burned and cheeks hurt from smiling. The concert didn’t last long, just a few covers and one self composed song, more was actually happening right when you decided to go, leaving the ongoing party behind your backs.

“But they organized free beer. I think I might forgive them,” you added, slurring your words a little and occasionally bumping into Hoseok in the process of trying to stay steady on your feet.

Drinking wasn’t probably the smartest idea you could think of after considering two facts. One: Hoseok hadn't drunk even a sip beacuse he was driving. Two: you had an awful habit of becoming too honest under the influence. And combining those two things was like sitting on a bomb and waiting for it to explode any minute.

You sat in Hoseok’s car with heavy exhale of relief. “Remind me to never drink that much again when I have to study the next day.” you mumbled, closing your eyes and leaning your head on the window.

“Noted.” Hoseok sat down as well, smirking to himself. He reached for the keys but your next words stopped him.

“Can we like, stay here for a while? In your car I mean.” you asked with hesitation in your voice and Hoseok's eyebrows rose high.

“Why?”

“Because it feels nice here. And maybe I don't wanna go back just yet.” The words slipped out from your mouth so casually that you didn’t even noticed the change in the atmosphere. To hell with consequences and aftermaths, to hell with becoming vulnerable when alcohol was swimming in your veins.

Hoseok smiled, even though you couldn’t see him. “Fine. But puke in here and I swear to God–”

“Geez, I hadn’t drink that much,” you snapped, opening your eyes. “Turn on some music, mister drummer. Hit me with that punk rock hits.”

Maybe you had drunk that much after all.

Hoseok chuckled to himself, opening his Spotify and connecting it to the car's radio. “What do you have in mind?”

“Do I look like an expert?” you retorted for the second time this night and Hoseok rolled his eyes. “Just put it on shuffle and I’ll tell you what I like.”

He did as he was told and soon the heavy beats of something that said Stairway to Heaven lighted up on the screen in front of you. You scrunched your eyebrows. “Stairway to Heaven, Highway to Hell, what’s next? Freeway to Purgatory?”

There was a moment of silence before you erupted into laughter. “Fuck, that was funny. Admit it.” you said, wiping the tears that had gathered in the corners of your eyes.

“I'm pretty sure someone had come up with this joke before.”

“God, you’re no fun. Only intellectuals can understand this type of humor and unfortunately, you aren’t one.”

Hoseok ignored your words, changing the song and this one you recognized more than well. “Leave it!” you blurted, causing him to smirk.

“Ah, right. I forgot you’re that original,” he said in mocking tone.

Your lips turned into a scoff. “Hey, don’t disrespect Arctic Monkeys’ AM album this way. That's a masterpiece of modern discography, better than your ‘classics’ sang by old dudes. Alex Turner is hot at least.” You pointed your index finger at him accusingly. When he was about to disagree, you added, “Besides, you have this on your playlist, so don't try to bullshit me right now. You like it as well.”

Hoseok sighed in defeat. “Okay. I wanna be yours it's a nice song. I admit it.”

“Yeah. It is,” you breathed, closing your eyes for a second, basking in the moment. “I always wanted someone to fuck me to Arctic Monkeys.”

Before you could stop yourself, the words escaped your mouth and your heartbeat immediately quickened in panic. Fuck, had you really said that out loud? The look of pure surprise mixed with amusement on Hoseok's face were telling you that you indeed revealed that you wanted to get dicked down while Arctic Monkeys played in the background. And of all people you knew, you had to do it in his presence.

Screw your drank thoughts and fantasies, screw stupid string of fate that always played games with you, even now.

You tried to compose yourself a little, acting completely nonchalant about what had just happened. You wore a disguise of unbotherness as best you could (which was pointless, your flushed cheeks and uneasy way you squirmed on your seat said it all for you).

You wished Hoseok didn’t react, that he somehow had misheard your drunken rumbling but it was all foolish hopes.

“Careful what you wish for, princess, because you might just get it.” he whispered and you could swear his voice was lower now, it carried husskiness that weren’t there before. It wasn’t a warning.

It was a threat.

You gulped, your face heating up instantly even more, if that was possible. Suddenly it was hard to breathe in a limited space of his car and you wanted to get out, to run away from him as fast as you could muster and hide, not standing face to face with him ever again.

But at the same time you couldn’t shake off the thought how good and right would it feel if you pressed your lips against his now, run your tongue through the seam of his mouth just to hear him groan in response, just to feel his teeth nipping the skin on your neck while his fingers were digging marks on your hips.

You wanted him, oh, God how much you did, but you had to stop yourself before you made a big mistake.

The atmosphere was thick and heavy with unresolved tension, ready to snap in a minute if only someone made a wrong move. His words rang in your head and you wished you had never left your house that night in first place. Was he for real? Or had he said that only to make fun of you after?

You were too scared to look in his eyes but if you did, you would see in them the raw desire swimming in his dark orbs. And if you did, you would know just how sure of his words he actually was.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you regained your composure as best as you could and muttered, “I don't feel well. Can you drive me home now?” Your tone wasn’t probably much convincing, if anything it sounded weak and strangled, so you added to lighten up the mood, “You don't want me to puke in here, do you?” and forced out a chuckle.

Hoseok only nodded in response, reaching for the keys and turning on the engine. If he was disappointed, he hid it pretty well. After a few minutes of ride back to your home, there was mute between you, except for the music still playing from the radio. His words not even for a second left your head and you replayed them again and again just to make you more and more confused with each time you tried to understand the hidden motive behind them.

Hoseok was hard to read, you realised that since he had became strangely silent after you asked him about his plans for the future on your first coffee meeting at Blue Side. Now you knew why. He’d said he had a lot to reveal about himself yet, after all.

When you bid him short goodbye and finally reached the doors of your apartment, you crunched down on the ground after closing them and shut your eyes tightly. Somehow, tears started to ran down your face and you found yourself clutching your phone and dialing the only number you could think about in this moment.

“Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?” Hana's voice was hoarse, she had been woken up from her slumber without a doubt. “You know I go to sleep earlier than you,” There was a sniffle on the other line and she changed her tone immediately. “What's wrong, bub? Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying,” you tried to protest shakily but there was no point in denying when you sounded like that.

“What happened?” You heard Hana asking softly.

Another wave of tears jolted your body, smearing mascara all down your cheeks and when you calmed down enough to speak clearly, you mumbled, “I told Hoseok that I always wanted someone to fuck me to Arctic Monkeys.”

“Okay…? And how did he react?”

Another sob. “He said I should be careful what I wish for.”

There was a bit of silence before Hana sighed on the other side of the line. “That's not the end of the world. You’ve done worse things in your life.”

“But that's different this time.” you cried out hysterically.

Hana smiled to herself even though you couldn’t see her now. She knew why it was different. She was aware for a while now, but she needed you to say this out loud.

A loud cry echoed through the quiet apartment before you finally said what had been lying on the tip of your tongue for a while now.

“It's different because I think I really like him.”

And fresh fall of tears streamed down your cheeks.

---

a/n: aaaah! it’s finally here! i was supposed to post this by the end of february but my laptop got broken and i got a new one yesterday so im sorry for the delay:( i hope you like it!

ps. second part is coming in two or weeks! love you, julia. xx

#hoseok smut #bts smut #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #smutcentralnet #btsbookclub #bangtanhq #btswriterscollective #hyungsmutsociety #hoseok fluff #hoseok angst #bts scenario #bts fanfic #hoseok x reader #hoseok fic #my writing

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nanoland · 3 years

Text

new chapter (lucifer fic)

Ponder on the Narrow House, part 6

Mazikeen/Eve/Michael

(Whole thing can be read on AO3.)

Fuck the next bounty.

After thinking about it for ten seconds, Mazikeen turned them around and started driving straight for Los Angeles.

Eve can talk to him. Not me. He needs to talk to someone, and Eve will do.

Barely half a mile later, Amenadiel dropped out of the sky and landed in the middle of the road, just far enough away for her to bring the car to a screeching halt before it would otherwise have slammed into him like wet clay into a steel wall.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said, looking exhausted.

She snorted and pointed skyward. “Yeah. This? Not gonna lie, I was expecting something like this. But I thought it would take, like, at least a month.”

Wincing, Amenadiel said, “No, that’s… that’s a different problem and Chloe’s promised to discuss it with him. Maze, we need you back at Lux. Now.”

“Hi, Amenadiel!” Eve called, waving.

He succeeded in smiling at her without even glancing at Michael, despite his younger brother sitting right at her side, glaring fixedly.

“Why?” demanded Mazikeen, tensely drumming her fingers on the wheel. (Inner voice hissing, Shouldn’t have left him alone, you dumb bitch, you’ve been doing this for centuries and you know what he’s like when you leave him alone for more than five minutes.) “Seriously – what could he possibly need me for? He’s God.”

Sighing, Amenadiel put his wings away. “Mazikeen, we’re all well aware that Lucy often… has difficulty focusing. To put it mildly. There’s a lot more for him to focus on now than ever before. He’s trying to undo climate change. To that end, he started refreezing all the melted ice in the Arctic. But he did it too quickly and, resultantly, there are several hundred trapped ships we need to save and several thousand dead penguins to resurrect and, to be honest, he hasn’t really got the hang of resurrection yet – you remember what Dan looked like for the first few hours after Lucifer brought him back to life…”

“Eurgh. Yeah. Yuck. Totes not the kinda shit you’d wanna see in Happy Feet.”

Michael was snickering.

“Right. And then there are all the changes he’s been making locally,” Amenadiel went on. “The expansion of Lux, the overnight disappearance of all Los Angeles’ firearms, his deciding that the city’s white supremacist population should grow a third ear so they can be easily identified, and, well, it turns out that a lot of Chloe’s colleagues at the police station-…”

“I get it, I get it. Chaos everywhere. As usual. What, exactly, is the problem he wants me to fix?”

Amenadiel exhaled heavily. “The demons. The ones you brought from Hell to help us defeat Michael.”

“Oh, so you do remember I exist,” Michael muttered.

Stonily ignoring him, Amenadiel said, “They’re still on Earth and they’re causing trouble. The one called Dromos, in particular. He’s gathered followers and they’ve surrounded Lux.”

Her brother’s face – his real face, not the human puppet he wore – flashed through her mind’s eye; a memory from when they were unruly children and had raced through Hell together, using the stone pillars that they’d not yet known were cells as an obstacle course. She’d been faster; he, more athletic. Together with a few cousins, they’d made a fearsome team, and not even their meanest older siblings had bullied them.

She folded her arms and looked away. “They’re demons. Lucifer can deal with them. Snap his fingers and turn them into rats or whatever. Make them explode.”

“Mazikeen,” Eve murmured, soft and low, touching her shoulder. “You don’t want that. They’re your family.”

Amenadiel blinked, as though that hadn’t occurred to him. “Er… yes, there’s that. There’s also the fact that Lucifer doesn’t want all of humanity to see him as the type of God who casually annihilates his enemies; a harsh, vindictive God. He wants to be liked. To be loved.”

“Fine. So why don’t you and the other angels sort it out?”

“Come now, Maze. A bunch of angels and a bunch of demons waging war in the midst of a bustling city? Humans will die. But you’re the Queen of Hell now and, by extension, the Queen of Demons. If you command Dromos to stand down, he will. This can all be resolved peacefully.”

Eve’s fingertips were cool against her skin.

Mazikeen looked back at the sky. The cloud letters were starting to dissolve. “What does he want?”

“Who?”

“Dromos. He doesn’t act on instinct. He’s a planner. He wants something.”

Shrugging, Amenadiel said, “He shouted at me about demanding an audience with the king. I didn’t ask for details. I don’t really care. Dromos isn’t someone I’m inclined to listen to at the best of times. The last time the wretch showed his face on Earth, he kidnapped my son.”

“Mmm. Kinda like your sister was gonna do. Kinda like you were gonna do, now that I think about it.”

“Maze!” he gasped, sounding shocked and hurt. “You can’t compared poor Remiel’s misguided actions to-…”

“I’ll do it,” she interrupted. “Take me to Lux. Now.”

“Excuse me? What about us?” snapped Michael.

Mazikeen met Eve’s gentle gaze. “You don’t need to be involved in this. My family drama, it – it’s not pretty.”

“My son killed my son,” said Eve, taking her hand. “My husband loved another woman. I’m used to drama.”

Swallowing, Mazikeen glanced at Michael. “And you, wimp?”

Feigning disinterest – feigning it badly – he said, “You showed up to my last domestic dispute. Guess this’ll make us square.”

“I’ve only got two arms. I can’t carry all of you,” Amenadiel pointed out.

Mazikeen rubbed her chin. “No… but you can carry the car, right?”

He didn’t have time for this. There was so much to do.

“World hunger,” he recited as he bounced from one laptop to the next, all twenty-three of them displaying a different article or video by a leading scientific or sociological mind, “wealth inequality, pollution, cancer, droughts, racism, elderly abuse, housing shortages, cruelty to animals…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda patiently, sitting on his best couch with her legs crossed, a cup of coffee and a laptop of her own beside her. “You said you wanted my advice as to how you should manage this whole ‘being God’ business.”

“I do, doctor! Very much. Your input is invaluable. Blast, where did I put that map of Alaska? I’m thinking of making it bigger; slotting it in alongside the Arctic to help stabilise all that new ice.”

“Right. Thanks. So here – here is what I’m suggesting now; slow down. Seriously. Take a breath, step back, and think your next move through.”

He scoffed. “‘Slow down’? Doctor, I need to work at least three times faster if I’m to keep up with everything. There are people suffering everywhere, millions of them! There are sinners in need of punishment! I’m seriously considering asking Chloe to be my Deputy God. I never imagined omnipotence would entail so much paperwork and she’s always been better at that than me.”

Outside the penthouse, many stories below, the chanting grew louder. None of the human police officers, journalists, and gawkers who’d gathered to watch could understand it; it was in Lilim.

Cursing, Lucifer strode to the balcony and shouted down, “For the last time, would you all kindly piss off? I’m trying to fix an entire planet here!”

He heard the elevator open and moaned. “Detective, not now. Please. I’m very sorry I haven’t returned your calls – I swear I’m not avoiding you – it’s just that I’ve got a lot on my plate today and we did already agree to meet for supper at-…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda, sounding terrified.

“Lucifer,” said someone else, sounding irritable.

Now that he was God, rage didn’t turn his eyes red anymore. It turned them gold and blindingly bright, like spotlights. Fists clenched, he turned to see Dromos step into the penthouse, once again clad in the flesh of the late Father Kinley and wearing a leather jacket.

“Nice trick, making all the doors disappear. Finally decided to climb up the side of the building with a sledgehammer and burrow my way through into the elevator shaft,” said the demon, hands in his pockets and concrete dust coating his beard and his bald head. “I want to talk to you, sire.”

Storming across the room while Linda remained frozen, white-faced, on the couch, Lucifer snarled, “You! You have the nerve to come here, to stand before me, after what you did to my nephew?”

He took Dromos by the neck and lifted him off the ground, his wings opening in fury (he had six of them now).

Stoical even as he choked, Dromos said, “I need. To talk. I will leave immediately afterwards.”

“Oh, you’ll leave, alright! You’ll be lucky if I don’t throw you into an active volcano, you accursed traitor!”

Dromos’ stolen skin began to sizzle beneath his fingers. He waited until the demon’s face was wrinkled with pain before throwing him to the floor hard enough to crack the wood and make a crater.

“I will leave,” Dromos gasped, coughing up blood, “when I have spoken.”

“What could you possibly have to say for yourself? Kidnapper. Child-thief.”

Still on the couch, Linda said tremulously, “Lucifer, you’re… you’re hurting him. Stop it. Please.”

“Let us stay!” shouted Dromos, and coughed again before dragging himself up onto his knees. “On Earth. That’s what I came to say. Let your erstwhile subjects stay on Earth if they choose – at least, those who served you in the battle against Michael. Don’t force them to return to Hell. Let them, let us choose where we live, going forward. That’s my request, your Majesty. My only request.”

Lucifer boggled at him. “Is that a joke? Demons? On Earth, indefinitely, unsupervised? Are you out of your tiny mind, Dromos?”

Baring teeth, Dromos said, “Why not? What does it matter to you now? You’ve got everything you could possibly want. Everything anyone could possibly want! All we’re asking is the freedom to come and go as we please.”

“No.”

He spoke the word bluntly, and then he stepped back, adjusting his cuffs. Regaining his composure. “Never. You’re dangerous and untrustworthy. This world is for humans, not you. Good grief, haven’t I got enough to preoccupy my mind, without the added stress of demons rampaging around town?”

“We won’t rampage. We just-…”

“Why are you even coming to me with this? Mazikeen’s the new Queen of Hell. Didn’t you get the memo?”

Dromos wiped blood from his lips. “I don’t know if my sister and I are on speaking terms right now. And she may be Queen, but you’re God; I assumed you would be tasked with such decisions. After all, there’s never been a demon in charge of Hell before. We were told – we were always told – that only angels could rule us. I don’t doubt Mazikeen’s competence, but I…”

He seemed to run out of steam, spreading his hands and finishing weakly, “Lucifer, you’re the king. You’ve been the king for millions of years. For my entire life. Look, if you really don’t want us leaving Hell, then can you at least use your newfound power to improve it? Let us have the things mortals enjoy? Pianos, dogs, blankets, weekends, all that stuff?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “That would rather defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it? Hell is supposed to be a place of punishment. The ultimate consequence awaiting sinners. I need a carrot and a stick, Dromos. How else am I supposed to convince people to behave if I don’t? Imagine a rapist arriving in Hell and being confronted with demons playing pianos and walking their dogs. Wouldn’t have quite the desired effect, would it?”

Dromos was quiet for a moment, then said without inflection, “Perhaps you could find somewhere else to put rapists. Somewhere other than our home.”

Throwing up his arms, Lucifer said, “More demands! Don’t you see how selfish you’re being? Here I am, doing my best to end all suffering, and you’re complaining about babysitting a few evil-doers – which, might I remind you, is your job. Nay, your very reason for existence. Always has been. Why’re you getting stroppy about it now?”

“I think,” Linda began, taking a tentative step forward before stopping and clearing her throat. “Excuse me. May I interrupt? Um. Okay, so I think that maybe Dromos has a point here, Lucifer.”

“Doctor! This is the creature that stole your baby!”

“Yes, I know. And I’m not saying I forgive him for that, but…”

“I wasn’t going to eat the brat,” Dromos grumbled. “I was going to make him a king.”

“You took him away from his mother!” Lucifer shouted.

“Gentlemen!” said Linda, sharply. “Please! Let’s try to talk this through like adults.”

Overcome with frustration, and only vaguely aware that he’d not been sleeping well lately, Lucifer kicked the nearest chair. “I can’t believe you’re siding with him, doctor.”

“I’m not siding with anyone. I-…”

“You don’t know these people like I do. You didn’t spend millions of years in Hell alongside them. The only demon you’ve ever gotten acquainted with is Maze, and she’s not like the others; even without a soul, she’s learned how to behave like a more-or-less civilised adult, barring the occasional tantrum. But your average, baseline demon has nothing to them besides wrath and cruelty. Lilith made them to be weapons and that’s all they really are. I mean – just imagine, for a moment, how hard it was for me. To go from the Silver City, the most beautiful place ever created, to a lightless nightmare realm full of these bloodthirsty animals. To be surrounded by them, for endless eons, while they nattered mindlessly on and on about how much they love torture and pain and…”

He trailed off. Linda and Dromos were both looking past him.

To the elevator. Where – oh – Mazikeen was standing.

Where Mazikeen was crying.

No sobs, not like when Dan had died. No expression at all, really. Just open eyes, motionless muscles, and steady tears.

Before Lucifer could say a word, she pressed the button to close the elevator doors.

“Wait!” he yelped, sprinting over to stop them.

He needn’t have bothered. Now that he was God, objects did whatever he told them to do. The doors stilled, half-open.

“That sounded wrong,” he acknowledged, clasping her shoulders in apology. “You completely missed the context. What I was trying to say was-…”

“Don’t touch me.”

It was a phrase he’d heard many times before from mortal lovers to whom he had accidentally revealed his Devil Face. Some of them said it in horror. Some of them, the religious ones, said it in anger.

Mazikeen looked neither horrified nor angry. She looked sick. As though the very sight of him turned her stomach.

Lumbering over, Dromos stepped into the elevator alongside her and pointedly pressed the button again. With no idea what to do or say, Lucifer allowed the machinery to work.

The elevator closed.

“What have I done?” he asked Linda.

Nothing I didn’t know.

“Maze?” called Eve, waiting by the car with the others as Mazikeen stepped out of Lux’s front door and into the sunlight.

The door hadn’t been there when they’d arrived. She’d been forced to use Dromos’ route. Lucifer must have decided to put it back. He could do that now. Just decide things. Didn’t need servants, nor followers, nor anyone. Sure didn’t need a ‘more-or-less civilised adult’ whose kin were animals.

“Maze! Wait!”

Mazikeen didn’t know where she was going, only that she was walking very quickly and felt that she’d die if she stopped. She heard Eve’s heels patter on the pavement and heard her say her name a third time, quiet and worried, and that was what stilled her feet.

“What happened?” murmured Eve, cupping her face.

The fifty or so demons who’d been standing around outside Lux when Amenadiel had set the car and its passengers down were still there. Instead of chanting to get their king’s attention, they were now looking at her.

Michael and Amenadiel stood among them, the latter having been trying to convince them to stop blocking traffic.

Which was what she should have been doing. It was what he’d brought her here to do. But she’d been gripped by a sudden, violent need to see Lucifer, to check on him, just quickly, before tending to her siblings. Once a bodyguard, always a bodyguard.

Except that wasn’t what I was. Not to him. To him, I was a Rottweiler on a leash.

“Are you alright?” asked Amenadiel, his eyes overflowing with concern.

That was what cracked her.

To him. Not to everyone. Not to Eve, or Amenadiel, or Linda. It’s not that I’m incapable of earning love and respect.

I’m just incapable of earning his.

Her legs gave out. She crumpled against Lux’s outside wall and started to weep properly, loud and bitter.

Eve immediately dropped down beside her, holding her tight. Michael shuffled closer, rubbing his shoulder while his mouth opened and shut, testing out sentences that were never spoken.

Then Dromos was there, kneeling, his face sad and tired.

“We did what we were told,” she said to him in Lilim, through sniffles. “We obeyed. We were loyal. We… we…”

“We are alone, sister,” he replied. “But I think we always were.”

“We obeyed!”

“We obeyed Lilith and she left. We obeyed Lucifer and he left. No one wants us, Mazikeen. It’s just the truth.”

She took a shuddering breath and squeezed her eyes shut. “No. I want us.”

Seizing his jacket’s shoulder, she hauled herself to her feet and addressed the crowd, her voice raw: “I want you! You’re my family and I want you! And I swear I will be the queen you deserve, for as long as you’ll have me!”

Her human skin fell away, the left side of her face turning cold, bony, and brittle.

Stepping back to join their siblings, Dromos asked hesitantly, “What would you have us do, then, my queen? What are your orders?”

Hurriedly drying her eyes, she studied them one by one. “Whoever wants to can stay here. But I’m going home. Hell is going to be ours, Dromos. No more damned souls. No more angels. It’s ours now and we’re going to make it into something we can love.”

She turned to face Eve and Michael, her heart pounding. “You’ll come with me, yeah? You’ll stand with me?”

“Always,” said Eve, closing in to kiss her.

“Whatever,” Michael muttered, clearly just relieved that the crying part was over.

Amenadiel sighed, shaking his head gravely. “Mazikeen, are you sure this is what you want? You won’t be able to leave Hell on your own – you’ll need to contact me.”

“Yeah. At least until this one grows his feathers back,” she said, gesturing at Michael. “That’s okay. You’ll always come when I call, right?”

“Of course. You’re my friend, Maze. I’m sorry if I haven’t said that often enough.”

Fuck it. Cringing on the inside, Mazikeen drew Amenadiel into a quick, gruff hug. “You too, idiot.”

#lucifer #mazikeen #lucifer morningstar #eve #amenadiel #michael #michael demiurgos #dromos #fanfic #my fic

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eddsworld-headies · 3 years

Note

Platonic Tom and Reader put aside their holiday differences to team up and destroy Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas is You" once and for all.

Also a lot of ppl tend to be shy, so I think turning on anon would be a good idea.

First, thank you for telling me Anon wasn't on. I didn't even notice.

Second,

"They're gonna blow out my fucking eardrums." Tom grumbled, uncapping the lid to his flask as he watched Edd and Matt blast 'Have yourself a merry little Christmas' through the karaoke system Katya set up for their little party. " Their not even on keeeeeeey." You whined with annoyance, covering your ears with your back pressed to the wall, watching the Brit spike the eggnog with Smirnoff. Having perfect pitch sucks. You knew what the notes were, knew all the timings-- and these two were singing it like it was a heavy metal song! "Exactly. And they're fucking flat too-- and who even picks this song to jam to?" Tom asked, taking a cup of spiked nog for himself before joining you against the wall. "Want any?" He offered softly. "Nah," you said. "I'm probably driving." Tom chuckled. "I thought you were looking for tail tonight." You shrugged as he took a sip of his drink.

"I'd like to think I could. But all of Kim's lesbo friends didn't come and I'd rather not hit on women I'm not totally sure are gay. You?" You asked, watching Tom shuffle slightly. "What," You asked, " you have the same problem?"

"Just not too keen on getting punched." You shrugged again. "That's men for you. Don't understand why women make such a big deal about guys catcalling them and being gross--" you started.

"Then one guy flirts with them and they're all too ready to play defense. I get it." He finished, giving the singing idiots on stage a still wave as they both pointed to him, like they were serenading him.

"The sad life of a queer." "Tell me about it." "Do I really need to?" "Not even a little."

You two laughed slightly, eyes flicking over the crowd as you waited on the side lines.

"What about her? She's wearing cargos." Tom pointed out. "Nah. She had on their one arm sleeve attachment thing when she came in. It's a fashion choice. What about that guy over there? He's tall, tan, wearing white pants--" "Yeah. He's cute 'n all. Don't dig the shag though. Nine o'clock. Wadda'ya think about her?" "I think they look exceptional." "Ah. My bad. Never met them." "Yeah. Kim introduced me. Okay , okay. He's totally your type," you said pointing out a man in red (well, a lot of people were in red but he was rather eye catching.), a fine leather jacket and tight jeans.

"He's smoking. Steel eyes. Weird ass hair. Sounds like he's got an accent too. You two would be so cute together." You teased, giving him a slight nudge and smile when you noticed his face change. "That's... Tord." "Oh." "Yeah." "Shit. I'm sorry." You apologized, looking back to the man that one of your best friends had most recently broke up with.

"The hell is he even doing here? I thought he was supposed to be in Norway?" You asked, recalling a previous conversation two weeks back that you and Tom had. "Guess he just wanted to get away."

....

"Yeah. Well thank God, right?" Tom quirked a brow as he looked to you. "Huh?" "Well now you don't have to waste your time on him. And look at you! Your at a party, Havin fun! Fuck him!" "I wouldn't call spiking the nog and getting screamed at fun." He said, nodding over to Ed and Matt, who were now bowing and setting the mic's on their stand.

"Theeeeeennnnnn," Your eyes honed in on the karaoke set. "How 'bout being idiots and bursting everyone's ear drums?" " You think they wanna hear me screaming heavy metal this time of year?" Tom asked with a laugh. "No," you answered. "But they'd probably love hearing the best and most annoying Christmas song of all time being fucked to high hell." "Says the one who can actually sing." Tom scoffed as you threw an arm around his shoulder. "I'll take a dive for you today." "How thoughtful."

But he went with it anyway. And true to your word, you purposefully sang off key. So off key that you blew out your voice and had a coughing fit while Tom hit the whistle notes with terrible precision that has you both snort and crying while trying to get out the last chorus.

It would've been a really nice memory if some guy didn't throw up all over your shoes.

#eddsworld #reader insert #ew tom #ew tord #ew edd #ew matt #headcanons

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peachyaone · 3 years

Text

Lonely Heart pt.5

Pairings: Lierra x OC

(A/N : Hi again! I’m excited to announce that the song “You” in this chapter is written by me! :) So pls don’t steal it :( And I’m also less busy this month so part 6 might be out soon! So yeah, hope you enjoyed this chapter, See you in the next one!)

*Luke’s POV*

They arrived at Ashton’s. His palms are sweating, and his throat was getting dryer by the second. Sierra placed her hand on his shoulder, slightly calming his nerves. They stood in of his door. He hesitated on knocking, Sierra had tired of waiting and knocked. Nothing happened at first, Luke knocked this time. There were footsteps, and the door opened. “Look, its early in the morning, so what the fuc- Oh. You two. He groaned. “ I-Is Iris here?” Sierra asked him. “You didn’t check your phones?” He said, slightly irritated. The two took out their phones.

They checked their messages:

[10:00 pm, 09/10/2020] Iris <3 : Hey. Just wanted to tell you that I’m leaving for tour early. I cleared up everything with Ashley and my bandmates. I will be leaving at midnight tonight. You’re welcome to come and see me off, only if you want to. I’ll be with Ashley for the while leg of the tour, we might have separate shows, but we’ll wait for the management announcement.

[10:00 pm, 09/10/2020] Iris <3 : I just wanna say that I apologise for being so distant , I’ve been in a really bad headspace lately. I’m sorry. It’s my fault for making you mad, making Sierra upset and everything.

“Fuck.” he whispered. Ashton was staring at them, arms crossed. "Have you realized what you've done?" Ashton said. They didn't have the chance to speak. "You absolutely wrecked her, you know that? Both of you. I thought you're better than this. She came here, soaked to the skin. She could get sick, and you both know that she gets sick easily. She was trying to keep herself together. She on a verge on an attack, thank god Katniss was there to calm her down. I wanted to march up to your house and beat your ass . But Iris wouldn't let me, you know why? it's because she loves you, Lucas. And that's the only thing stopping me from beating your ass." He scolded. Luke was looking at the ground, ashamed.

"And Sierra, you know what the media could do. They'd do anything to tear people apart, fuck with their mental health, twisting lies into stories with without knowing the real truth. One article could turn people against each other. I really thought that maybe you would understand a little more about this." He said. Ashton was disappointed. He sighed. "Now that you have your answer, I have a lemon tree to save. Goodnight." He said, closing the door on them. The two walked back to their car.

What were they gonna do now?

*Iris's POV*

The live session was a blast. Once she felt sensation of the bass, the sound of the guitar, the kick of the drums, she never felt so alive. They were covering "I Don't Love You" by My Chemical Romance. She felt the problems slowly melt away when she started singing. She sang each verse with all she got. It was pure, raw emotion, the one that could make everyone tear up. It's like she was a different person. Long gone the Iris that was depressed. The Iris on stage now was, way more brighter and her eyes seems to shine with unshed tears. This side of Iris only comes out when she's performing. Usually, without the tears. The crowd cheered her on. She was smiling. The trio gave each other knowing glances, once the adrenaline from performing wears off, she would go back to the woman she was before.

Sad and empty.

They thanked the crowd and the host and went backstage. They were buzzing with adrenaline. "You guys, wanna grab some food before we go back to the hotel?" Maia said. Julia and Helena nodded. "Iris?" Helena said. Iris's head snapped up. "You okay there? Your lookin' a little bit pale, shortcake." Helena said. Iris rubbed her face. "I'm alright, Just need fresh air, that's all. Maybe something to eat." She said. The trio was looking at her worriedly. "Guys. I promise, I'm okay, don't worry." she shyly smiled, nervous from the looks her bandmates were giving her. "Macca's?" Julia said. "Sure." Maia said.

*timeskip*

"That's all your going eat?" Julia said. Iris was eating her veggie dippers. "Yeah. I'm not that hungry." she mumbled. "Bullshit. You haven't eaten anything since last night." Julia said. "Take some my fries." Maia said. "Maia, I can't take it. It's your food." she declined. "Iris, we won't let you fuckin' starve. We have a long night of performing coming up. And you need the energy." Maia said. Iris stared at the ground. Helena rubbed her back, "Please, Iris. We all know you have haven't been doing well." Maia said. "Fine."

"Good girl." Julia said. "Wow, Julia. I didn't know you were into that kinda of stuff~" Iris teased. Helena choked on her drink. Julia looked at Helena, confused. Maia shoved Julia's shoulder. The look of realization dawned on her face. "Oh. Iris, you kinky bitch." She said, smirking. "Well, someone's gotta be the Yuri in this club, and you guys don't have to balls to be him. " she teased again.

They heard cameras clicking.

"Paps." they said in unison. “Shit.” Helena mumbled. “We have to get out of here, quickly.” Julia said. The group got out and tried to get to Maia’s car. Iris was soon cornered by the paps.

“Iris, you know they can do better!”

“Is it difficult having TWO partners? Having to be jealous all the time and fighting for attention – what does that feel like?”

She kept quiet.

“What do you think to the rumours that you cheated on them? There’s evidence of you spending the night with a mysterious female.”

“You’re really nothing special though are you? They won’t stick around for long, whore.”

“We’ve seen the scars on your arms.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bad image for your band?”

“You should look into conversion therapy, disgusting whore.”

“What about your partners? Should they have to deal with that on top of everything they should be doing?”

“You’re nothing but a slut. A cheating, useless piece of shit.”

“You’ll be better off dead.”

“'Lena…” She mumbled, searching for any of her bandmates over the crowd, she felt her vision go hazy for a bit as she desprately tried to push through the paps. She was so close from losing her sanity. The paps was closing in, blocking her in. Insults was thrown her way. She was going to break.

Then she felt their arms. Helena's strong hand gripping hers and pulling her into their arms, cradling her against her chest and Julia pushing through the crowd telling the paparazzi to fuck off along the way.“Get away from her!” She pushed the paps away from the duo while Helena helped Iris up. “We just want answers!” One of the paps shouted back at them. “Well, you’re not gonna get any so take your camera, shove it up your fucking asshole, and fuck off!”

They got her into the car. Maia drove away from the scene as fast as she could. Iris's hands was shaking. “Iris?” Julia ask, her hand moving to cup her face. “Iris, come on.” Julia pleaded, she was desperately trying to help her calm her down, holding her hands and trying to help her breathe. “They said such horrible things.” Iris mumbled. “They’re just trying to get a response.” Helena said.

"Can we call, Ash?" she meekly asked. "Of course, shortcake." Helena said. Julia called him.

"Hey, Julia. Is everything alright?"

"Um... about that."

"What's wrong?"

"Well, we had a run in with paps eariler and they cornered Iris."

"What?! Is she okay? Did the paps do anything?"

"Well, they verbally harassed her. We might ask management to file a lawsuit. As for Iris? She's the reason why I called, wait a minute-

"'Lena take the phone."

Helena took the phone from Julia.

"Hey, Lemon boy"

"Hey, Helena. Is Iris with you?"

"Yup. Let me hand the phone to her."

"Thanks"

She passed the phone to Iris.

"Hey, Ash..."

"Hey, Sunshine. Are you okay? Did they do anything to you?"

"They were closing in on me, taking photos of me and said bad things."

"What kind of bad things did they say, sunshine? "

"That I’m not good enough, they keep insisting that I cheated. They said that I look into converstion therapy-"

She was startled by Helena's hand on her shoulder. "Let it out." She mouthed to her.

"They joked about my scars, they said I would be better off dead." she choked out.

"They what?! Oh, Iris, I'm so sorry."

She sobbed.

" Iris, listen."

"What they said.... it's all lies. You hear me? They are lies. You are not what they paint you to be, they don't know who you really are. You are amazing. You are the most amazing person I know, the boys loves you.... even Luke. He came by with Sierra the night after you left. I didn't do anything, like I promise. But you bet I gave him an earful. But all that aside, Iris, you deserve to be here, and you are good enough. You make people happy. Your fans? They all love you, you make them smile, you make them feels safe. This will pass, things will get easier. I promise you."

"What if I fail to do so, Ash? What if I disappoint everyone?"

"You won't. Trust me, you are not a failure. You will get better. You will heal. You will be stronger than ever. You will make it through this."

"Are they alright?"

"You're seriously asking that? You're not okay and you're asking if they're alright?"

"Please Ash... I want to know."

They arrived at the hotel.

"Yes, they are. You don't have to worry. All you have to worry now is me giving you a lecture. Look outside."

"What?"

"Just look outside."

She looked outside to see Ashton, giving her one of his signature smiles. Beside him.....Luke and Sierra.

"Ashton?"

"Hey, sunshine."

She paled. She turned at the bandmates and chuckled shakily.

"Am I finally going crazy? Is they really here?"

She looked at Luke and Sierra, laughing disbelievingly. Shaking her head, she walked up to them. She prodded Luke at his chest angrily, as she laughed. "You had the fucking nerve to show up here." She was chuckling yet crying in the same time. "Where were you, Lucas. Where the fuck were you when I needed you?!" she said. She stumbled back, shaking her head. Iris's knees gave out. Maia reached out to steady her. "Can we get out of here, please?" She whispered to her. Maia looked at Helena and Julia. "Let's get her inside." She said, quietly. They nodded. They moved to get her inside. Sierra moved to stop them. "Let's talk this through, please." She said to Iris. Helena glowered at her. She stood in front Iris protectively.

"After what you've done, you think you could just come up here and expect her to talk? After the pain you put her through? No, ma'am. You lost that right." Helena said. "Hey, don't talk to her like that." Luke defended her. Julia stepped forward. "Don't think we forgot about YOU, Hemmings." She said. "You don't get to come up here, all high and mighty and expect that we let you go that easily." Helena said. “You two are fucking dumb if you really believe that's a way to treat our bandmate.” Maia said.

“If anyone should be arguing, it should be me.” Iris said, as she straightened up and six pairs of eyes snapped to her. "Thank you for standing up for me, guys." she said to her bandmates. They shrugged and smiled. "Pop off, bestfren." Maia playfully winked at her. Iris smiled and turned to face the duo. The look that they gave her made her newfound anger surge.

“You both don’t get to look at me like that.” She snapped, causing them to reel back in suprise. They never seen her this mad, never at them. "If you gave me the chance to talk back then, we wouldn't have this bullshit." she said. Their faces fell in guilt. The Iris she was before this would've cave in and forgive them but she was seething with anger now to care.

"If you'd noticed the sleepless nights I had, the bag under my eyes. If you'd have cared to even try and listen to what I had to say, maybe I wouldn't be fuckin' pissed at you right now!" Iris snapped and Luke flinched back.

If they'd only looked into her eyes, they would see the bottled up emotions that was threatening to explode. It felt wrong to see Iris so angry. She was always been the one to break up arguements, not start them. "Did you know how much suffering you caused me? Do you know how much pain I've been through? I never asked for this, you know? I never asked for us to fight. I hate fighting, you know that?" She said. She looked at them, they were looking down to the ground.

"Look at me." she pleaded. Her anger disappated. Their heads immediately snapped up."I d-don't think I contribute to this relationship anymore." her broken voice reached their ears.

"Iris!" They called out, but she's gone. Luke frantically searched for her. "Luke, we still have one more chance." Sierra said. "Sierra, there's no more chance. We lost her." He said. "And it's all my fault." he whimpered. "Luke, honey. We have her concert tickets, thanks to Ashley. Let's not waste this chance alright?" She said.

*timeskip*

Two hours till the concert. The stage staff were moving around, making sure that everything goes well. After the encounter, Iris fell in the hotel bed and proceeded take a long nap. And woke up just in time for rehearsal.

Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours. Iris drank some vodka that was prepared by the staff, it did so little to calm her nerves. She was pacing around. “Iris?” Her makeup stylist called out. Her head shot up, “Yes, David?” She said. “It’s time for your makeup, and then your outfit." He reminded. She smiled softly at him, "Alright, I'm coming."

She got dressed and sat on the chair."So what would we like on this wonderful night?" He said prepairing the brushes. "I was thinking of skeleton kinda look. Some black, a little red." She said. "That sounds good. Would you like some to put glitter on the black part?" he asked. "Sure" she nodded.

(A/N: Here’s the outfit. Credit to @boy..brainr0t for the makeup look)

They made a small talk about the weather and the upcoming shows. Half an hour later, David finished. "Wow, you did a great job! I love it so much, thanks David! " Iris said, her mood brightened. "No probs, Iris." He said with a smile. She side hugged him and left the room.

"Looking good, shortcake! That choker looks deadly, in a good way." Helena hyped her up. Iris flushed. "Enough about me, look at your mohawk! The spikes are as deadly as my choker! " She said, smiling. "Can I.... touch them? " Iris said. It was like a child asking for candy. "Knock yourself out, shortcake. " She shrugged. Iris's eyes shined with excitement and she poked it. "It's rock hard, did you use hairspray?" she asked, "I did. Used a little bit of hair pomade. Gotta make sure it won't fall while performing." Helena explained. "That's cool." Iris giggled.

"Hey, cuties!" Julia hollered from arcoss the room. "Its almost time, get your sexy asses over here!" Maia said alongside Julia. "Alright, alright, we're coming!" Iris shouted back. "You look like Gerard Way, Iris." Julia said. "Awh, Julia that's nicest thing you ever said to me" she joked. Julia playfully punched her in the shoulder. "Heeeey" She pouted. "Hey guys!" Ashley jogged over to them. "Hey, Ashley" They said. "You ready to go up there?" She asked. "Yeah, it's been a while since we last went on stage, still kinda nervous, but excited." Iris said. "Excuse me, sorry to interrupt, but you guys are up in 10" the stage manager informed them. "Alright, thank you for informing us" Julia thanked the staff. "You welcome." the staff said, then walked away.

"Go get ready, I can't wait to see you guys out there." Ashley said, before leaving to get ready herself. "You ready?" Maia asked. " As ready as I'll ever be" Iris said. Her eyes shining with excitement. The group fistbumped each other and went on stage.

"GOOD EVENING, LONDON!" Iris screamed into the mic. The crowd screamed. "ARE YOU READY?" The crowd cheered. "WE CAN'T HEAR YOU" The crowd screamed.The intro for their song "You" started playing.

You,

The thought of you makes me sick

Heaven and Hell doesn’t scare me anymore

Not when your with me

Why you gotta be so greedy?

I’m giving all I have to you,

But you keep asking for more,I’m dying, can’t you see? (Look at me)

My blood stains the floor

And I know you love seeing me like this

When it comes to you, (you temptress)

You act so innocent, like an angel in disguise

Always painting yourself as holy

But your tainted halo says otherwise, my dear

Iris sang, stomping her feet to the rhythm. She was smiling, looking out to the crowd. And then she saw familiar head of curls. It was Luke. Her eyes widened, trying to maintain her composure as she sang. She looked at Julia, who noticed them too.

Look at what you’ve become

My still beating heart you hold,

Your knife against my throat.

I’m on the floor, barely breathing (Gasping for air)

My mind tormented by your lies

There’s no escape from you (Never)

There’s no saving for me

“Oh, my darling sweetheart” you said,

With your hands around my neck

“Let me own you” you whispered

Your cold breath makes me shiver

Death knocks on the door (It’s time)

She puts on a facade, performing all the energy she had. Maia and Helena soon caught up with the situation immediately. They were soon picking up on the energy that Iris is giving out. She was nervous. Very nervous. Her heterochromia eyes instantly found blue ones. She wanted to run off stage but her pride wouldn’t let her. What would the fans think of her if she did? She didn't want to be coward.

*Lierra's POV*

They were standing somewhat near to the stage, same as the people that are there, they were all waiting for the show to start. Soon, Iris came on stage along with her band mates. The crowd screamed and cheered.

"GOOD EVENING, LONDON!" she said. She sounded so different from 4 hours ago. She looked beautiful as always, her facial features were enhanced by her stage makeup. "ARE YOU READY?" They cheered. "I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" They cheered even louder.

Iris smirked. "Helena, darling. If you please." she said. They both knew it was her persona on stage to be a little flirty , but Sierra couldn't stop but feel a little bit of jealousy. Helena was smirking on the screen. " ONE, TWO, THREE-" Helena said, before she started playing the drums. The intro sounds familiar to them. Then Iris started singing.

In their eyes, she was the most ethereal being they ever seen. She was confident when she sing, it was beautiful.

Midway through the song, their eyes met. Luke could see her eyes widening. She turned to Julia. Julia gave her a brief nod. She turned to the front, with a smile on her face. He gave Sierra a look.She shared the same look, they clearly knew that she was faking her expression. And the thought of that made them feel even more guilty.

*Back to Iris*

Look at what I’ve become

My still heart you hold,

Your knife still against my throat.

I’m on the floor, still and silent

My mind corrupted by your lies

There’s no escape from you

There’s no redemption for me.

As she sang the last verse, the crowd cheered and clapped. She was a little sweaty and she was a little out of breath. She kept on smiling. Her bandmates joined her at the front. Ashley comes on stage next. “Good Evening, London!” Ashley said. The crowd screamed. “ I would like to thank my good friends, The Temptress, for their AMAZING performance tonight!” She exclaimed. The crowd screamed again. "You welcome, Halsey." she said.

In the corner of her she saw a sign. The sign said "It's Nia!". Her eyes shined. "Well won't you look at that, Hi Nia." She waved at the girl direction. A group of girls were screaming as she said that. "Thank you again for the wonderful gift you gave me yesterday, darling. I really appreciate it." She said. The group screamed again. She was smiling. A real smile. The camera was on her and the crowd screamed again. She and her bandmates said their goodbyes to the crowd and Halsey and went off backstage.

She took off her facade and became unsually quiet. She plopped on the couch and drank the vodka she poured for herself. Her friends didn't know if they should comfort her or give her space. "Hey, shortcake." Helena said softly. Iris just leaned against her, her head on her shoulder. "You okay, bub?" Helena said. Iris just buried her face further into her neck.

"I don't know, 'Lena."

#poly!5sos #poly!lierra #lierra x oc #lonely heart #luke hemmings #sierra deaton #5sos fanfic #5 seconds of summer #5sos

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themusicplayedherlife · 4 years

Text

Unrequited (Part 5)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader characters: bucky barnes, reader, steve rogers, natasha romanoff, tony stark, pietro maximoff, crystal amaquelin, clint barton, sam wilson, sharon carter, word count: 7k+ warnings: curse words, flirty bucky, flirty tony, angst, sad friends summary: things are changing and its startng to get hard to keep up a/n: hi, welcome to the slowest update and slowest burn story ever, but its here now--and let me tell you, this chapter is NOT how i planned... still like the outcome and really, it just means that the next ch is going to be just as long (im also looking for someone to beta future chapters ;o; so if youre interested, lemme know)

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“Natasha?” you call out, entering the eerily quiet apartment. The lights are off, the television quiet and dark, everything you used for breakfast is still in the sink, none of it put away—she hates seeing a full sink, but hates washing dishes in the morning even more, preferring to do them when she gets home when it’s her turn.

You call out for her again, your footsteps echoing as you make your way to her bedroom. Knocking, you wait for a beat before opening the door, and just like the rest of your shared home, her room is dark—even the neon lights she likes leaving on occasionally are turned off.

Where could she be?

There’s a note on the island counter that has you frowning—Out for the day. It reads in Natasha’s cursive writing. I’ll be home for dinner.

You don’t share any classes with Natasha, today. In fact, you don’t have any classes Tuesdays, something you’re grateful for because having classes everyday last year really stressed you out, and while you’re still stressed having three classes on three days of the week, you have more days to relax and study if need be.

Your free days also give you the chance to spend time with Natasha, something you both take seriously. Afterall, you made a promise to one another senior year of highschool that you’d always carve out a little bit of time for each other and that you’d always tell one another what was on your mind, never letting it fester.

It feels… weird knowing something is wrong and not knowing what it could be. But you just have to give her space and wait for her to tell you on her own, just as she gives you space when you need it.

Doesn’t mean you like it, though.

With a loud sigh, you leave your apartment.

You shoot him a quick text to let him know you’re here, and he replies by giving you the code for the building and his floor and apartment number.

Seriously, Bucky? Why is he making you go up?

Grumbling, you take the elevator to the fourth floor and knock on his door, ready to rip him a new one for having you meet at his place rather than somewhere else when it opens to reveal… not Bucky?

Naked torso and bright blue eyes greet you, and widen in surprise as a small squeak escapes your lips. You try to ignore the heat clawing its way up your neck and to your face, desperately hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He says your name breathlessly and you return the gesture with another squeal, head lightheaded and you’re pretty sure it’s not healthy to have all your blood rush to your face like this.

“Steve!” You avert your eyes and focus on the wooden door and the gold numbers 404 instead of his pretty, hairless chest. But it’s kind of hard to keep your focus on something else when your eyes keep wanting to move his way! “Bucky told me to meet him here?”

As if he was waiting for his name, his head pops over Steve’s shoulder, a small smirk on his face—has it always been this punchable? Because your fingers are itching to clock him and wipe that smug look off of his face—that’s becoming a thing isn’t it?

“You’re finally here!” He pushes Steve aside and opens the door wide for you, ignoring the protests of his best friend. He latches onto your wrist, not allowing you a chance to look over the open spaced apartment and pulls you along with him towards the elevator. “I’m taking the car! And put a shirt on!”

You chance a glance over your shoulder to find Steve staring after you both with raised eyebrows and slightly parted lips. Fuck.

“What the hell, Bucky?” you ask as soon as you’re in the privacy of the elevator.

“You’re welcome,” he says, pressing the button for B—basement you’re assuming.

“You’re welcome?” You repeat incredulously. “For what?”

“What do you mean for what? You got to see a shirtless Steve thanks to me!”

He has a point, the little voice in your head says, but you refuse to listen. Pursing your lips, you turn your eyes away to stare at the blinking numbers over the sliding doors. “I’m not thanking you for that.”

He pouts and it’s so uncharastically Bucky, or at least it's uncharacteristic for the Bucky you thought you knew, that it throws you off guard for a moment. You clear your throat and try to recover. “Come on! I did good! You saw a shirtless, Steve! What are the odds of that happening?”

“Literally none.” He grins at your deadpan words. “Still don’t appreciate it, Bucky! That was embarrassing, for him and me.”

He sighs, slouching back into the elevator wall like a little kid having been scolded for stealing a piece of chocolate. “Okay, I get it. I get it, no more tricking you into seeing a shirtless Steve.”

You resist the urge to sigh heavily at his words. “I hate you.”

He grins toothily.

You watch him as he smiles at the poor girl behind the register ringing him up for a pair of sunglasses. She ducks her head shyly, curling a lock of her hair behind her ear as does her best to quell the blushing on her cheek.

He had told you to keep an eye on them, watch him as he tries to win over the cashier with his charm, but from where you’re standing? You’re not seeing shit.

He thanks her with another smile, taking his card that she hands back to him before making his way to you.

You quickly look away when her eyes begin to drift from him to you.

“Did you see?” he asks as he settles into step with you to lead you to another store.

You nod and cock an eyebrow. “What exactly was I supposed to learn from that?”

He makes a face—nose scrunched and eyebrows furrowed. “How easy it is to flirt?”

“I saw none of that,” you deadpan.

He sighs deeply as if completely disappointed in your lack of attention and you have to resist the urge to smack him and roll your eyes. “Did you not see how I—you know what. Never mind.” Before you can even question him, he continues on: “We’re not just here to teach you how to flirt, we’re also here because you need an outfit for the party. Two birds,” two fingers lift into the air and then one finger goes down, “one stone.”

You do a double take, blinking slowly and letting his words process. “I need an—no, I don’t!”

“Oh, yeah?” He raises an eyebrow as he opens the door. “What were you thinking about wearing, then?”

“I don’t know?” You reply indignantly. What exactly is he getting at? “Some jeans and a shirt? You know, like casual clothes.”

When you don’t make a move to enter, he grabs your arm and pulls you along with an eye roll. “That’d be fine for any other party, but this is a Stark party. People dress up to impress, and those that don’t, stick out like a sore thumb.”

Great.

“Come on, sourpuss.”

That’s rich coming from him.

But then again, he hasn’t been much of a sourpuss with you anymore has he?

“What about this?” he asks, amusement laced in his words as he grins stupidly at you. In his hands is a short and skimpy dress that you would never wear out of fear of what you might accidentally end up flaunting.

A glare is all he gets as a response and he laughs loudly. “I’m joking!”

You miss sourpuss Bucky.

He has you searching the floor for something—anything, he deems acceptable for Stark’s party, but you honestly don’t understand why you can’t just wear casual clothes. And when you voice it, he keeps emphasizing the whole “sticking out like a sore thumb” bit. As if he knew you liked blending with the crowd rather than stand out. You relent, allowing him to help you pick something out, too, but you still don’t like the idea of dressing up for a College party.

A blue romper is suddenly shoved in your line of vision and you took a step back to follow the arm attached to the shimmery romper. “Pretty, right?”

You wrinkle your nose involuntarily. It is a pretty romper (better than the first one), with a low open back and a sweetheart neckline. You’d wear it, but it looks more suitable for clubbing than a college party.

“I think it’ll look good on you!”

You reluctantly grab it from his thrusting hand. “Isn’t it too much?” You check the tag. “Besides, not my size.”

“It’s perfect for Tony’s party,” he muses as he ushers you towards the rack where he found the romper, encouraging you to find your correct size. “And it’s actually pretty tame compared to what you’ll see others wearing.”

“You know, you’ve been really making me dread going to this party,” you grumble, pulling out a romper that’s in your size. “You keep making it sound like it’s the event of the year.”

He nudges you towards the changing rooms. “It might as well be. A lot of people look forward to his parties, use it as a chance to completely unwind without any rules binding them to the usual frat party rules.”

Which would make sense as to why Natasha is looking forward to it, especially when she seems to be stressed from outside factors.

“That still doesn’t make me feel better.”

He rolls his eyes. “Stop being a baby.”

The dressing room attendant allows you both in with a smile, pointing to a stall you may use, and you both thank her.

The music is a little louder in the dressing room area than it was on the floor, Dua Lipa’s New Rules blasting loudly, enough to make you drum your finger against the hanger.

“Besides,” he starts from the other side of the door. Through the crack, you can see him with his back turned towards you and waiting. “Going to this party will be your chance to open flirty dialogue with Steve, show him you’re actually interested in him.”

You take your time undressing. “None of what I’ve seen so far will help, Bucky. Smiling and touching someone isn’t flirting.”

“It will!” he assures you over the music. “It’s part of the basics on how to flirt.”

“Okay? But what else?” You were really hoping for more. He made teaching you how to flirt seem like such a big deal the other day.

He doesn’t answer you.

“Bucky?” When he doesn’t answer again, you quickly scramble to put on the romper, not bothering to check yourself in the mirror. You call his name again. No answer. Again. “Are you—“ You open the door to your dressing room and to your surprise, Bucky is still standing outside of your dressing room, closer to the one next to yours. “Why weren’t you answering?”

He leans against the door with his shoulder, hands in his pockets and stormy eyes meet yours when you poke your head out. “Well? Aren’t you gonna show me?” Your forehead creases as your eyebrows curve inward. He motions to the side with his head as if asking you to step out.

With a reluctant step, you come out of hiding, showing him the outfit with a ducked head.

His eyes sweep over you and his hands come out of his pockets, a lopsided grin appearing on his lips. “Wow—you look—you look great, doll.”

Doll? You don’t question it even though you’re curious about the sudden pet name, besides, you’re a little flustered at the genuinity in his voice “You think so?”

“It’s gonna be hard for anyone to look away from you,” he says, eyes twinkling with some kind of emotion that you can’t read. Mischief, maybe?

You pause, the heat that had been gathering in your cheeks suddenly cools as the hair on your arms stand awkwardly. You can’t help the small shiver that runs down your spine, or the small noise of disgruntlement that escapes your lips. What was wrong with him? “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, reaching for a lock of your hair and you jerked away.

Your eyes narrow as you watch the smile on his face grow, but soon they widen as the realization hit you. “Are you—are you trying to flirt with me?”

His smile drops and it’s your turn for your smile to grow, a laugh escaping your lips. His lips form a pout and he groans. “Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny. I’m teaching you how to flirt!”

“By giving me chills?”

He leans away from you, in shock that you’d think he’d ever do such a thing! “I did not give you chills!”

“You did!” you assert as you lift your arm to show him the bumps and awkwardly standing arm hair.

“There’s no way I caused that!”

You shove your arm further into his direction. “You totally did!”

He stares at you unblinkingly, your words processing in his head and taking in your form, until finally, he groans loudly, gaining the attention of the attendant. “But my flirting has never failed!”

You laugh, stepping away from him. “Well, your mom did say you seem to be under a dry spell.”

“Hey!” He sputters. “Just get changed!”

You shake your head with a smile and head back into the changing room to change out of the romper and back into your regular clothes.

After paying for the romper and walking around aimlessly, you two find yourself at the food court sitting across from one another with ice creams in hand.

“Since—apparently—showing you wasn't the best way to reach you how to flirt, telling you might be,” he says after a spoonful of his strawberry cheesecake ice cream. “Flirting isn’t rocket science, doll. Everyone can do it.”

“Not everyone.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit. Flirting is all about conversation and being confident while doing it,” he says, straightening his back. “A lot of people have this… idea, that you have to be coy and charming to flirt, but you don’t have to be. Sometimes it’s all about compliments, other times it’s about subtle touching, or most of the time—both.”

You close your lips around your spoon, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Try it on me.”

Your spoon almost drops from your hands at his words. “What?”

“Try flirting with me.”

“Bucky—“

“You’ve seen me flirt twice—“

“I learned nothing from either time.”

He blatantly ignores you and you can’t help but laugh under your breath. “So, you have an idea of what you should do when flirting with someone.”

“I don’t know—“

“Just compliment me, talk to me, reach for my hand or something.” He smiles. “You’ve got this.”

You take a deep breath and finally relent. Placing your spoon back into the cup with your melting ice cream, your eyes meet his expectant gaze.

Sweeping over his eager gaze, your eyes fall on the red beaded bracelet wrapped around his wrist. It’s homemade, a little worn out by the look of the scratches on some of the beads. But it’s cute, reminds you of something you would’ve made when you were in middle school for Natasha, or something your younger brother would’ve made for you. Did one of his sisters make it for him? Shyly, and nervously, you reach for the beaded bracelet, gently running your index finger over the small beads.

“I like your bracelet.”

“Yeah?” He asks with a wide grin, stormy eyes watching you carefully and you can’t help the heat licking at your skin—god, this is embarrassing!

“Yeah, it’s cute… looks good on you,” you mutter, hooking a finger under the bracelet and flashing your eyes up at him from under your lashes, still feeling hot and embarrassed, and if you cry, holy shit you’re going to die. You can’t even read Bucky’s expression, there’s a smile on his face but his eyes are pretty neutral. Fuck. What if you’re messing up? What if you’re only making a fool out of yourself? “No!” You gasp softly, extracting your finger from his bracelet and covering your face with both hands. “No, I can’t do it!”

“Come on,” he drawls and gently takes hold of your wrists to coax your hands away from your face. “You were doing great!”

You let him pull down your hands and purse your lips, not completely believing him, but he sounds genuine enough. “Was I really?”

“Yes, you were!” he says, patting your hands in his. “You complimented something on me and me, found an excuse to touch me and kept eye contact for most of it! That’s pretty fucking amazing.”

You slip your hands from his to cup your jaw and groan. “I wish I could believe you.”

“All you really had to do was ask questions, prolong the conversation, make me think you’re interested in knowing more about me,” he advises softly. “If you do something similar like this to Steve? He’ll be putty in your hands.”

Giddiness bubbles in your stomach as you think of Steve flirting back, but… “But what if I get too nervous? Or fail?”

“Then you breathe, remind yourself you’re having a conversation to get to know him outside of what you already do know.” He waits for a beat, eyes searching your face for a moment and sighs. “Some people like to lay it on thick with the charm because that’s what they’re good at. You? You’re just… you. Doe-eyed, a little awkward, more than a little blunt sometimes. So use that to your advantage.”

You don’t fully believe him, but he sounds so sure of himself that you can’t help but agree to try it. “All right. Okay, I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all you need.” He grins and tilts his head towards one of the many entrances of the mall. “Want to head home?”

You look down at the ice cream pooling in your cup and decide to throw it out along with Bucky’s empty cup. “Mind if I check out the Disney store before we go?”

He remains seated, thanking you as you take his trash with yours. “Was afraid you wouldn’t ask.”

Throwing the two cups, you look at Bucky over your shoulder, ignoring the family of four that cuts between you to occupy a table. “You like Disney?”

He scoffs, offended that you even thought of asking such a heinous question. “Of course, I do.”

You shrug, laughing under your breath as you wipe the imaginary dust from your hands. “Most guys hide their affinity for Disney.”

Without thinking much of it, Bucky grabs the bag carrying your romper from the empty chair. When you make a grab for it, he tells you he’s got it and begins to lead you towards the Disney store. You follow after him, thankful. “I’m not most guys,” he quips back. “But… uh… does Natasha not like guys that like Disney?”

You blink, processing his shy inquiry and then throw your head back in laughter.

“Hey! It’s a legit question, if she doesn’t—“

You fall into step with him, smothering your laughter with the back of your hand. “What? Are you going to hide your love for the mouse from her if she doesn’t?”

“Maybe?”

You roll your eyes. “I suggest you don’t, Bucky. Natasha… she likes authenticity.” He knows this! But he’s really gung-ho on changing himself for her, isn’t he?

“It’s not like I’m going to lie about it! I’ll just be… omitting the truth.”

“That is lying,” you say with a bit of whine and drawl in your voice. “Lying by omission.”

“Whatever gets her attention.” His lips turn down and his eyes sweep down at you with a semi glazed look before staring forward. “That’s the whole point of this, right? Getting their attention?”

You try to hide the wince and find that you can’t bring yourself to refute him.

Your eyes meet your own in your mirror’s reflection, and with a deep breath, you leave your bedroom.

Natasha is on her phone, fingers tapping away at the screen barely acknowledging you other than a, “Finally!”

“Sorry,” you start as you make a beeline to the fridge for water. “I’m just a little unsure of what I’m wearing.”

She looks up, twisting in her seat to take a look at you and she lets out a strange noise that sounds akin to excitement. “Where have you been hiding this little number?”

You purse your lips. “It’s okay?”

“Are you kidding me?” She stands and makes her way over to you, smirking wickedly, hand to her chest as she buckles her knees. “I am in love!”

You gently push her away and she cackles. “God, you’re so weird.”

“You love me!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

Pietro: bruh, i am in awe

Pietro: i shit you not, you’re going to be fucking blown away when you guys get here

You: His place that nice?

Pietro: what do you think?

Attached to the message is a picture of Pietro making a face at a large chocolate fountain in the middle of who knows where and you honestly can’t believe it. You really fucking can’t. Who fucking owns a chocolate fountain other than a fictional character?

“Are you seeing this?” you ask Natasha, who sits beside you in the moving taxi, staring incredulously at your phone screen as you receive another message from Pietro, but this time of him sticking a marshmallow into the fountain with a stick.

She hums. “Seeing what?”

“What Pietro just sent—group chat?”

“Oh,” she says. “No.”

Sighing, you put away your phone, ignoring the incoming text from Pietro most likely asking how far away you are. “Who do you keep texting?”

“Huh?�� She looks up at you after a moment of silence. “Oh, a friend—hey, you don’t mind if I invited them to tag along, right?”

A friend? You try to keep yourself from frowning, keeping a more neutral, curious expression. “I don’t mind, but, who did you invite?” You’re pretty sure you know everyone she knows or at least know of the people she deems worthy enough to call friends—which aren’t many (and are literally the same people you call friends).

“He’s one of the guards at the center,” she says, returning her attention to her phone, a smile appearing on her lips as she types out another message. “I had trouble on the first day and he helped me.”

“Wait, you had trouble?” Why didn’t she tell you that? She had only mentioned that it went well, but the kids could be a bit too much if she wasn’t stern enough.

She waves her hand dismissively. “Yeah, got lost. Not a big deal.”

She got lost and made a friend on her first day and it’s no big deal? “Right.”

She raises her head to look at you once more, eyebrow cocked and ready to say or ask something, but the driver pulling up slowly and saying, “Here we are,” distracts you both, stealing your attention for a moment and making you both glance out the window.

“Wow,” is all you can manage to say as you stare up at the modern home—mansion, really—as you push open the car door to step out, Natasha right behind you. You knew Tony was rich, but this, this is crazy rich.

The chocolate fountain now makes sense.

You both thank your driver and the man nods, wishing you both a fun night before driving off.

“And I thought your parent’s home was big,” you tell Natasha.

She chuckles, clapping your back before beginning to lead you towards the main entrance and closer to the loud music playing indoors. “Pietro and Crystal are already here, right?”

“Yep. They might be by the chocolate fountain, wherever that is.”

“Cool, I’m going to look for my friend,” she says, pushing open the door and allowing the music to escape from the enclosed space—“Meet you there?”

She’s seriously not thinking of leaving you—oh my god, she is. She’s really leaving you!

Before you can even begin to protest, she’s become one with the sea of bodies occupying the open space and you can no longer see your friend among the masses.

Great. Now what?

You frown and when a person knocks into you by accident, giving you a hasty apology as they keep moving, you can’t help but sigh. Why did you even decide to come?

You pull out your phone and read the message Pietro sent you earlier, and reply telling him that you’ve arrived. In a matter of seconds, you receive a message from him saying he’s still by the chocolate fountain and to hurry the fuck up.

Well, at least you still have Pietro.

Just as you’re about to put your phone away, it vibrates with a text notification, your text tone completely drowned out by the music.

James Bucky: How’s the party?

You: Just got here

James Bucky: Barely?

The music is loud around you as you push through the crowd, people not really caring if you bump into them, all of them in their own little world as the bass reverberates through their bones.

You: Wasnt super keen on the romper.

You: Jumped around a lot of outfits

James Bucky: But I thought you looked great!

James Bucky: You ARE wearing it, right?

You: yes, zazu gosh

James Bucky: wait

James Bucky: Zazu from the Lion King?

James Bucky: are you calling me an overbearing bird?

You: 🤷🏻‍♀️

You: if the shoe fits

James Bucky: listen, if I’m anyone from the movie, I’m Simba

You snort as you reply back: Sure you are

James Bucky: Rude!

James Bucky: Have you seen Steve, yet?

You: no.

You: Looking for Pietro and his girlfriend first

James Bucky: All right

James Bucky: Guess I’ll let you go

James Bucky: just remember to relax! You’ve got this!

Yeah! You do got this!

Thanks, Bucky.

Your search for the fountain leads you outside to a small courtyard where it’s a little less crowded, but just as noisy with the music and talking. In the middle of it all is the glorious chocolate fountain and in front of it a long table of fruits and other assortments that could be dipped into the chocolate.

“What do you think?” A voice suddenly says next to your ear and you can’t help but let out a surprised squeal as you jump around to face the culprit. “Cool right?”

“Tony! What the hell?”

He chuckles and looks you over, his eyes still obscured by his dark glasses. “You look good.” He sounds sincere enough, but you can’t help but raise your eyebrow in suspicion.

“Thanks?”

He grins. “You’re welcome.” He looks around you. “Came alone?”

“Ah, no, I came with Natasha, but she went searching for someone.”

“And you?” He asks, removing his eyewear and hooking it’s leg into the collar of his shirt. “You’re not searching for anyone?”

“I am…” you say, a little hesitant, unsure of what his question is meant to mean. “My friend Pietro.”

He tilts his head to the side. “You mean silver haired kid over there?”

You follow his line of vision, head twisting to look over your shoulder where Pietro and his girlfriend are sitting on a wooden bench, gorging on strawberries covered in chocolate. “Thanks.”

“Buckaroo didn’t come with you?” he asks, stopping you from making your way over to Pietro and Crystal.

“Uh, no. Said he didn’t feel like it.”

Tony snorts, he sounds a little bitter. “Of course, he did.”

Curious. “Did you want him to come?”

He presses his lips thinly, before smiling wickedly. “I’d like for someone else to come.”

“Seriously?”

He grins, head ducking and glasses slipping off the bridge of his nose, but he does nothing to stop them. “Sorry, bad joke.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“Do you usually do that?”

He catches your gaze over the rim of his glasses. “What? Make bad jokes?” He shrugs. “Probably.”

“No,” you start slowly, pausing for a moment to search his eyes, study him as much as possible before he can grow offended by your next words, words that you probably wouldn’t say to a stranger and shouldn’t say to a stranger, but still do. “Do you usually deflect when someone goes into uncharted territory?”

He tenses, eyes narrowing and jaw clenching, it only lasts for a second, but you catch it. And that’s enough for you to know you’re right. He lets out a dramatic sigh and looks away from you, pushing his glasses back up. “Ah, and here I thought you’d be more fun than most of these people.”

You purse your lips, ready to retort, but before you can, a hand lands on your shoulder, pulling you away from Tony and to a muscular body—Pietro.

“Is he bothering you?” Pietro asks, eyes locked on to Tony, not even bothering to look down at you. It’s the big brother act.

“Pietro!” You scold him, pushing him away from you and from confronting Tony. “It’s fine. We were just talking.”

“And now we’re not,” Tony announces, eyes moving from Pietro to you. “Have fun, gorgeous.”

“What was that about?” Pietro mutters, confused as you both stare after Tony. And you can’t help but watch as he joins a group, laughing and smiling with them for only a moment before moving on to the next one. Never staying in one place.

“I don’t know,” you admit, a small frown making a home on your features.

You can never truly tell what the hell is going on with Pietro and Crystal. One moment they’re both laughing and having the time of their life and the next they’re arguing about the little things—this time the little thing being, well, you.

You’ve always known that Crystal wasn’t and isn’t particularly fond of you and Natasha, sometimes seeing both of you as some kind of threat or rivals for Pietro’s love, but you and Natasha usually pay her no mind. This time, however, it’s a little hard to ignore them when she’s whining about the fact you’re third wheeling their date, forgetting the fact that you and Natasha had invited Pietro in the first place, and he had decided to bring his girlfriend along.

Where’s Natasha when you need her?

Why did you decide to come anyway? Bucky wasn’t joking when he said a Stark party wasn’t a place for striking up conversation, yet somehow he encouraged you to come and said it would be the perfect opportunity to flirt with Steve. Who, by the way, you haven’t seen since you arrived! Granted, you haven’t moved from your spot in the courtyard, but you aren’t so sure going around specifically looking for Steve would be such a good idea. What if you do start dating Steve and you one day tell him that you frantically looked around for him at a Stark party, actively avoiding everyone just to be able to talk to him? He’d most likely freak and call you a freak, and you’d much rather avoid that.

“Then go,” you hear Pietro snap, pulling you from your rambling thoughts to look at him and Crystal, both of them practically in each other’s faces.

His blonde girlfriend with wide blue eyes falters, eyes drifting from him to you and back, and you watch as her bottom lip wobbles for dramatic effect before throwing her hands up in the air and pushing Pietro away from her. “Fine! I didn’t even want to come to this stupid party anyway!”

Pietro sighs heavily as she storms off.

“You sure letting her leave like that is a good idea?”

“Yeah,” he says through a grimace, falling back down onto the bench he and Crystal has been occupying. “It’s fine. We’ll work it out tomorrow. We always do.”

You have no doubt they’ll work it out, because he’s right, they always do. But you still can’t help but worry. How much more fighting and arguing can they take before they break? “Okay. Do you want me to get you a drink?”

He shakes his head and reaches for the red plastic cup by his feet. “I’m good, thank you.” He scoots over and pats the seat next to him.

You flash him a small smile and drop yourself down next to him, taking the chocolate strawberry he offers you before pressing his own strawberry against yours and scarfing it down.

“What’s with the doom and gloom?” Natasha finally joins you, finding you and Pietro sitting on the wooden bench, gorging on chocolate covered fruit. “It’s a party!”

You and Pietro don’t bother reacting to her shimmy of the arms, you instead cock an eyebrow. “Did you find your friend?”

She nods, smiling, looking over her shoulder and making a come here motion with her hand—and who exactly she motions over isn’t who you were expecting.

Not only is it Steve, but it’s Steve. Handsome, blue eyes, pretty Steve, who flashes you a bright smile even after you’ve seen him half naked.

Your mouth falls open in surprise. Steve? Why would it be Steve? As far as you knew, Steve doesn’t work as a security guard. Not at campus, not at the accounting firm he’s interning, and definitely not at a recreational center! He would’ve mentioned it, right? You look at Natasha, but she’s not looking at you, and she’s not looking at Steve either, you note.

She’s looking at someone behind him, someone shorter with darker hair—dirtier, and darker blue eyes—“Clint?”

All eyes snap in your direction, but you pay them no mind, you’re completely transfixed by the man wearing a purple hoodie and acid wash jeans, who immediately recognizes you and smiles cheekily.

“You know each other?” Natasha asks and it's Clint who explains with a nod.

“She’s a regular at the museum, usually comes in during my shift.”

“Huh.” Natasha huffs out a breath. “Small world.”

Steve chuckles and that sound would usually cause your heart to flutter, but you’re currently very much in awe of the fact that Natasha has adopted Clint as her friend. “Guess that makes it easier with the introductions.”

“Uh, excuse you. I don’t know who he is. Hi, I’m Pietro. And you are?”

“Clint Barton, security guard extraordinaire.”

Natasha smiles in Clint’s direction and leans against him, surprisingly enough—which is putting it lightly. You’re more than surprised, you’re absolutely floored, Pietro is too because he turns to you with wide eyes and mouths “what the fuck?”

What the fuck indeed.

Natasha isn't the type to be so… hands on or touchy with strangers (well, then again, Clint isn’t exactly a stranger). It took months—half a year to be exact—for her to be comfortable with touching Pietro, and being touched by him. But here she is, having known Clint for a couple of weeks—BARELY—and is already using Clint as a resting post.

Yeah.

It’s official.

Bucky is screwed.

A Stark party is a sensitive overload, if you’re being honest.

Here you are being rewarded with Steve looking mighty fine in a yellow button down and dark, regular jeans, but you’re somehow distracted by the way your best friend refuses to leave Clint’s side.

She’s smiling, chuckling that soft, genuine chuckle of hers when he cracks a joke or tells a funny story. There’s a spark in her smile and eyes that you haven’t seen in such a long time—not since high school.

You’re happy for her…. but…

This is going to hurt Bucky, isn’t it?

“Hey,” Steve’s warm voice reaches your ears and your body reacts without a minute to waste. Heat crawling up your neck as you practically rip your eyes from them to him.

“Steve, hey.”

“You look beautiful.” Your heart practically beats out of your chest, eyes widening at his sincere compliment and how he studies you with a warm gaze. It takes all of your energy to stay upright, even when the blood rushes to your head and your knees buckle.

He called you beautiful. Steve. Steve freaking Rogers!

Breathe and relax, doll. Flirting is simple conversation. Not an art. “Thank you.” Your voice is quiet, but still managing to be heard over the music if the tick of his lips is anything to go by. “You do too. Yellow is a good color on you.”

What? What kind of compliment is that?! Every color is a good color on Steve!

He chuckles, his eyes slipping down to the button down he’s wearing. “Thanks. This is actually Bucky’s. Told me I should wear it for tonight.” He fixes the collar of his shirt as the first button comes undone, and you can’t help but avert your gaze shyly. What the fuck is wrong with you? It’s just some skin, you dumbass! “You wouldn’t think so, but Bucky actually has an eye for picking out clothes,” he says fondly, proud of his best friend. “It’s one of his hidden talents.”

You return your gaze to him, but this time focus on his eyes, smiling when his own gaze meets yours. “I actually believe you. He helped pick out this romper for me.”

His eyes brows quirk upward. “Bucky did? Really?

“Uh, yeah, actually.” Did you say the wrong thing?

You almost grow worried when the silence between the two of you stretches for a moment longer until he smiles again, eyes softening. “I’m glad you’ve become Bucky’s friend.”

You’re not so sure you and Bucky ARE friends, especially not after he reiterated why you're both talking and helping eachother, but under Steve’s sincere gaze you can’t help the, “I’m glad too,” that slips from your lips. And you definitely don’t regret it when his smile widens.

“Ah, listen, I want to apologize about the other day,” he says, his cheeks red as he rubs the side of his neck and eyes drifting shyly off to the side. “I don’t usually open the door shirtless, but Bucky was hurrying me… and…”

Of course he was. God damn that Bucky! “No, no, it’s your home. You’re allowed to be comfortable. I’m sorry I was so awkward about it. I just--I have never seen that.” Steve’s eyes snap up in your direction and for a moment, you replay your words—have never seen that—what the hell is wrong with you? “I mean, I have. I definitely have seen a shirtless man before. Who hasn’t? I meant to say I have never seen you—you know what? I’m just going to shut up now.”

He blinks slowly and without warning he lets out a loud laugh that takes you off guard, but it fills your chest with warmth. You recognize this laugh; it’s his genuine laugh. The one that makes him throw his head back, hand clutching his chest, and laugh without any inhibitions. And you caused it. You.

You can’t help but chuckle along with him.

And when Steve finally calms down, he glances down at you with crescent eyes and a genuine smile. “You’re cute.”

Heat crawls to your neck and you can’t believe it’s possible to even get this hot and embarrassed. “Thank you?” you squeak.

This is good right? Steve across from you, drink in his hand and smiling down at you as if you’re the only people in the room. And you might as well be, because the music sounds so distant and Pietro’s laughter is muffled.

This is your chance.

This is where you put a hand on his shoulder; lean into his space a little and flash him your doe eyes that Bucky mentioned. This is it! This is where you hint at your feelings, this is—

“Steve!”

Damn it, Sam!

“Look who I found!”

The smile on his face drops and you can't help the way your body jerks when he mumbles the name, “Sharon,” so breathless.

You’re no longer the only two people in the room. The world spins and tilts, and it moves faster than you thought possible—all noise and music coming back to life and deafening you as Steve doesn’t spare you a glance to walk towards the beautiful blonde with kind brown eyes smiling at him.

You push through the crowd, needing to get away from whatever the fuck is going on inside. Steve barely even glanced at you after Sharon had appeared, which shouldn’t be surprising, really. His ex-girlfriend is beautiful and the two didn’t exactly break up on bad terms. They had decided that while she studied abroad at Cambridge for the year, it would be best for them to break up.

So really, you should’ve known that the moment she would showed up, you wouldn’t have a chance.

Not like you had a chance before. But you had hoped with all of your heart that maybe you could have a chance.

You were wrong. Bucky was wrong.

The fresh, cool air hits you as soon as you’re out on the front porch, and you release an exhale.

“Tough night, gorgeous?”

Your eyes snap to Tony, who sits on one of the porch chairs, legs kicked up on the small rounded table, and a cigarette in his hands. “You could say that.”

Tony puts out the cigarette by smashing the tip into the ashtray by his feet.

“Why aren’t you inside playing host?”

A smirk lifts his lips. “Taking a break. Hosting is a lot of work.”

You snort. “I’m sure.”

“Why aren’t you inside?” You shrug and watch as he stands up and moves to the chair over, pointedly looking at the now empty one as if inviting you to sit with him. You do. “Saw you getting chummy with Steve earlier. Didn’t know you had it in you, gorgeous. Bucky and Steve?”

You freeze, eyes widening as you sputter. “What? Bucky and I are just friends and Steve… Steve… is just a friend too.”

He chuckles. “So not gaga over Buckaroo, but definitely deep in the feels for golden boy. Got it.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Sure it isn’t.” He grins, but there’s no malice in his teasing and for some strange reason, you don’t mind it.

The music is muffled, even with the loud volume it’s set on. But you can make out Ariana Grande’s voice as she sings thank u, next.

“So, were you rejected by golden boy? Is that why you’re out here?”

“Rejected would imply I had a chance.”

“Why wouldn’t you have a chance?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“Sharon.”

“Ah, the ex girlfriend.” He tilts his head back against the headrest. “Is she back? I heard she was back. But you know how rumors are.” Is he alluding to himself?

You watch him and he all does is lift his lips into a smirk that has you shaking your head. Best not to dwell on it. Turning away from him to pull out your phone, you notice you have messages from Bucky and Pietro, but you don’t read either of them, instead going into the Uber app to get a ride home. “Guess so.”

He leans closer to you, peeking at your screen for a second before pulling back. “Ordering yourself a ride?”

You nod, watching as the screen changes when you confirm the addresses and the arrival time and map show up. In a couple of mins you’ll be on your way home. Thank god. “Yeah. I’m just—I’m just really tired.”

“Mind if I come with you?” he jokes, lopsided grin in his face.

You put your phone away once your ride is confirmed and find him no longer staring at you, but instead watching the empty streets, the occasional night drifter passing by. “For someone who likes throwing parties, you don’t seem to like being in yours.”

He chuckles. “Would you believe me if I told you I get tired?”

“Why throw them?”

He shrugs, but doesn’t answer and again, you don’t push him to either. You barely know him, and you have a feeling he’s told you more than he’s told anyone else in one seating.

“Okay,” you murmur and his eyes flicker in your direction before nodding and returning his gaze to the streets.

The two of you remain that way until your uber comes to pick you up. He walks you to the car door and opens the door for you, wishing you a goodnight and waiting until you’re far enough to head back inside.

Tony is an enigma, isn’t he? Everyone thinks they have him figured out, but you’re not so sure Tony even knows who he is himself.

Does Bucky?

You’re about ready to drop dead on your feet as you push open the front door and flick on the light to your apartment, your phone in hand as you mindlessly reading Pietro’s “where’d you go?” text. Honestly, you have half a mind to drop yourself on the sofa instead of your bed, even if your bedroom is only a few steps away from the sofa.

Just as you’re about to close the door behind you and are about to click on your text message thread with Bucky, the creaking of wooden flooring meets your ears and your eyes whip up, finding an unfamiliar woman standing next to your dining table with a hesitant smile and wide, green eyes.

“Who the fuck are you?”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #reader insert #reader imagine #marvel imagine #unrequited series

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echochamberdean · 4 years

Text

Blitzkrieg Bop

pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

summary: Reader has somethings special planned for Peter’s birthday

word count:1k

a/n: I tried to use the more popular Ramones songs so that people would know what I’m talking about but the reason I chose the Ramones is because ‘Blitzkrieg Bop’ plays at the end of the first Spiderman movie (Holland Spiderman). Anyways, I hope you guys like it, feel free to send in requests!

______________________________________________

“Peter, if you ask where we’re going one more time I will murder you!” You screeched simply tired of his questions sounding behind you like a broken record as you both got ready in his room,

“Y/n, you know I can’t handle secrets. This is why our relationship is thriving.” He said looking back at you goofily as he threw on the Ramones shirt you had told him to wear. You laughed.

“Just shut up and get ready.” You responded playfully before heading into the bathroom to check the outfit you had picked out for the night. Tonight was Peter’s birthday and you had planned something super special for him. There was a reason you had failed to mention that your brother was in a cover band. You had asked them if they could dedicate their show tonight to Peter and cover songs by the Ramones seeing as it was Peter’s favorite band. They, of course, were delighted to do the show for Peter as you would often help them in the early developments of the band and had even written one of their original songs.

“You ready yet?” He called from the room, you could tell he was getting antsy.

“Yeah, you?”

“Yup, let’s get out of here already, I’m starting to think you’re gonna have me assassinated.”

“Me? On your birthday? Never.” You met him in the hallway outside of his bedroom with a sly smile before pressing a quick kiss on his lips. He hummed in playful suspicion, taking your hand in his as you led him out the door.

As you approached the venue with your hands hovering over his eyes it was getting harder to conceal where you were taking him as you could begin to hear the music coming from the building. The boom of the drums and bass could be felt on your skin as you got closer and closer to the building. Peter tried to move your hands from his eyes.

“Are we seeing your brother play!?? God, I actually haven’t seen him and the guys in a while!” You couldn’t hold the position of your hands any longer as Peter looked up at the neon light in the shape of an eyeball flicking left to right with each second.

“You got me,” You splayed a playful frown on your face, “We’re seeing my brother's band, yes. But that’s not all..” You walked ahead of him before flashing back a mischievous look. Peter was, nonetheless, excited to hear live music.

As you entered the venue, you could see your brother and his band finishing up a soundcheck. You whistled up at him to let him know you were here. ‘You’re late,” he mouthed over the sound of the guitarist tuning his guitar.

“We’re here aren’t we?” You yelled up at him, he pointed at you in playful warning before turning back to the drummer to finish up. You lead Peter around the barrier to stand right at the front of the stage.

“Alright everybody, how’re we doin’ tonight?” The house whistled, whooped, and yelled back.

“Good, good, that’s great. Listen, tonight's show is gonna be a little different tonight, I hope you don’t mind. Tonight’s menu is full of Joey Ramone, let’s go.” Everyone in the club clapped and cheered, you whistled loudly.

“This one’s for Peter Parker, it’s called Blitzkrieg Bop. 1, 2, 3, 4!” As the drummer counted off with his sticks, you quickly looked to Peter who looked as if he had just met Joey Ramone himself. The guitar kicked off and Peter turned to you excitedly.

“No fucking way!” He yelled at you over the guitar and drums resounding throughout the venue. You simply nodded at him just as excited to see him fanboy over his favorite band’s song.

“Holy shit!” He chanted as you both jumped and swayed to the music, the others around you pumping their fists in the air, it was pleasant anarchy and Peter couldn’t look happier. The band played more of the hits and you both jammed to the music until your feet were sore.

When the show was over, you were both absolutely exhausted but happy.

“I can’t believe that really just happened! I haven’t ever been to a show like that, it was so cool! Especially when they were playing ‘I Wanna Be Sedated’ and your brother did that thing with his guitar, that was so sick!” You laughed as Peter kept on going on about how much he loved the show. You dragged him along with you backstage to where your brother and the guys were packing up for the night.

“Dude that was so great, thanks again, I owe you one.” You said, hugging him before looking at Peter.

“You guys were really good, I had a blast,” Peter said, smiling from ear to ear.

“It was no problem guys, I always wanted to play an old hits show so it was pretty fun. This doesn’t mean you don’t still owe me one y/n/n. I might have to cash that in soon.” He joked.

“Yeah whatever, loser, anyways me and Peter are heading home. Thanks again!” You called out before you and Peter headed out.

The crickets sang peacefully as you both walked down the street, slowly, as if prolonging the high of the show. There were a few others far ahead of you now, that had also begun their walk home after the show, whooping on about the songs and such. It made you smile and squeeze Peter's hand as you leaned into his shoulder.

“Did you like your present?”

“Are you kidding? I loved it y/n, that was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. You know I’ve been patrolling a lot lately but to get one night with my favorite person listening to my favorite songs- It was incredible.” He looked into your eyes, “I loved it.” He repeated, stopping in his tracks to make sure you could see his face; see just how happy he was at that moment.

You looked up at him, sliding your arms up and over his shoulders, meeting at the nape of his neck.

“I’m glad, Petey.” You smiled, closing the distance between you. He kissed you with such a burning passion that it was hardly bearable. Seeing him happy was just about the best feeling in the world. So you kissed back, just as much as he, his arms pulling you closer to him before you were both desperate for air.

“I love you.” He whispered, his breath warm and ghosting against your ear. It made you shiver.

“I love you too.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #the ramones #fanfiction #x reader #imagine #peter parker imagine #fluff #music

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

They Will Certainly See More

“What do you mean Seymour isn’t here?!”

The stage manager’s eyes were wide and bulging in their sockets from her smoldering gaze. The queens couldn’t help but shy away slightly- all the crew members had an aura that nobody wanted to cross when worked up.

“She was sick,” Aragon explained.

“You couldn’t think to tell me this BEFORE the show was about to start?!” The stage manager snapped. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Are any of the alts here? Tell them to throw on some makeup and do their hair, they’re going on.”

“Umm...no.”

“What?” The stage manager’s eyes snapped open to stare at Cathy.

“None of them are here.”

“WHAT?!”

The stage manager began to work herself up to a proper fit, barking and squawking at the queens and just about anyone who crossed her path like a jungle bird that just had its territory approached by a rivaling avian. She might have tore strips off the cast the entire time if it wasn’t for Anne suddenly piping up.

“Wait!! What about Joan?”

That made the stage manager shut up. She snapped her mouth shut and blinked before all eyes turned over to the nearby music director, who, up until that point, was peacefully eating a yogurt cup.

“What?” Joan said with the spoon still in her mouth.

“That’s perfect!” The stage manager exclaimed. “Joan! Go get your makeup and hair done!”

“My makeup and hair is already done?” Joan said. She was always ready an hour before the performance starts. “What’s going on?”

“You’re performing as Jane,” The stage manager said. “Aragon, Parr, go help her into costume!”

“Wait- What?!” Joan yelped, finally understanding. “I-I can’t- I-” But she was already being herded off into Jane’s dressing room.

The process of redoing her makeup and hair was hellish- there was a lot of tugging and pulling and painful brushing that scraped her scalp raw. She had to get an all new layer of makeup so she wouldn’t look washed out onstage and wouldn’t sweat it all off. Because she was sweating. A lot.

“God, you’re soaked,” Cathy laughed slightly, combing back Joan’s hair.

“Mm-hmm,” Joan merely replied. She was stiff in the chair, spine straightened in perfect posture for the first time in her life. Her hands clenched and unclenched anxiously in her lap. “G-guys, I--”

“I got the costume,” Aragon cut her off, taking Jane’s dress off the rack.

Joan actually gaped at it- were they really expecting her to wear that?!

“Guys--”

“Come on, stand up, Joan,” Aragon urged. “Let’s get this on you.”

“Guys!” Joan finally spoke up. Her voice had raised a few pitches. “I-I don’t think I can do this…”

“Of course you can!" Cathy said as she pulled her out of the chair. She and Aragon were being weirdly nice; usually they just ignored the music director unless they needed her for something. Joan guessed it was because they were in a rush and thought that being kind would get Joan to cooperate (which kinda worked).

“You know the show by heart. There's no way you can screw it all up." Aragon smiled gently as she set the costume on the back of the chair. "We'll be outside whilst you change, call us when you're ready.”

And with that, Joan was alone in the dressing room.

Standing in Jane's dressing room with the woman was one thing, but when she was alone everything felt wrong. Joan felt like she was invading Jane's personal space. She knew it was stupid, Jane wasn't here. Jane was at home, sick.

Deciding to not dwell on it any longer, Joan quickly changed into the costume. The first thing she noticed about the dress was that it was heavy, much heavier than she had imagined. The second thing she noticed was that it didn't fit her at all. Instead of looking like it was tailored to her body, it simply hung from her shoulders, and she didn’t even want to THINK about how saggy it was around her smaller chest. She was practically drowning in the fabric, and Joan wondered if she could just wear her band costume and claim it as an emergency alternate costume, but then the five minute call blasted through the speaker.

Cathy and Aragon burst through the door, stumbling over each other as they tumbled into the room.

“Come on Joan, the show is starting soon and we still need to have a mic check." Cathy said, giving Joan a quick glance. "You can't go on stage looking like that." Frantically, she and Aragon searched Jane's room for safety pins.

An announcement played over the speaker, saying the show was delayed for another ten minutes. Guilt started to consume Joan as she stood in the middle of Jane's dressing room. She must look rather pathetic, standing there in a dress too big and her face caked in makeup.

Suddenly, there’s hands cupping her cheeks and she flinches in surprise. Aragon is standing in front of her, holding her face while Cathy finished with the last of the pins. The golden queen tapped Joan’s cheek with a finger and Joan stopped trying to avoid her eyes like a dog that was caught drinking out of the toilet bowl, instead slowly meeting her patient gaze.

This was the first time Aragon had ever been affectionate or gentle with Joan. And Joan relished it.

“You’re going to be okay.” Aragon told her. Her voice was smooth and warm, coiling up Joan’s neck and slithering right into her ears. It numbs her anxiety.

“B-but what if I--”

“Shh...” Aragon stroked back a loose piece of hair that just didn’t want to stay down. She took a silver bobby-pin from her sleeve and pinned it back herself. “You’ll be just fine, darling. We know you can do this.”

“B-but I-- OW!!”

“Sorry!” Cathy called from behind Joan. “Yikes. That’s a lot of pins.” She laughed slightly. “But I’m sure it’s fine. The dress is silver, anyway! Matches the, uhh, color scheme!”

A chunk of ice drove itself into Joan’s stomach. She sets her trembling hands over her unsettled middle and Aragon quickly took them in her own. She squeezed them tightly. Oh how Joan wished she actually cared about her and wasn’t just doing this to get her to cooperate.

“I can’t,” Joan whispered.

Despite always dreaming of getting to perform and dance and sing, actually having to do it sounded horrible. Perhaps because it was forced onto her and she didn’t have a say at all. It would probably be easier if she had volunteered herself.

Maybe.

“You have to,” Aragon said. “I’m sorry. But I know you can do this.”

“Come on,” Cathy said.

The three of them walked down to the wings, where the other three queens and ladies in waiting were already in place onstage. Cathy and Aragon have to leave Joan, grabbing their mics and getting in their spots. Joan took Jane’s place a few moments after them. Right before the lights go out, she saw Maria, Bessie, Maggie, and even her dep giving her encouraging smiles and thumbs up. She shook her head nervously at them, pleading with her eyes for one of them to drop dead so she didn’t have to do this.

But alas.

Blackout.

A cacophony of anticipated murmurs swelled through the audience as the curtains part ever so slightly so the queens can walk out. They were just barely lit up by soft white lights bleeding dimly from backstage. Fog rolled out like great grey waves.

Then, pitch blackness once again.

She tripped. She knew she tripped or stumbled or something stupid while walking out of the curtains. She tripped or staggered or stepped wrong or something and now they all know she’s not Jane and they’re going to laugh at her and--

Joan couldn’t breathe. Her body was on autopilot as she followed along with the others, trying to walk the way Jane would normally walk (and yet she still messed that up with her slight stumble on her way out of the curtains). She hoped that she looked enough like the woman to fool the audience and keep them happy for at least half of the show before they got tired of seeing her as a fraud, but that was just wishful. They could take one look at her (or her chest) to know that she was not Jane Seymour.

And that scared her.

She was scared of them booing or leaving just because she wasn’t the queen. Which was entirely stupid of her to worry over because the alts and swings went on all the time and everyone loved them. But her anxiety just wouldn’t register that as true facts.

She was a fraud. And they were all going to laugh at her.

She really didn’t want to be laughed at...

A deep hum filled the auditorium- the beginning of Ex-Wives was starting. The sound seemed to rattle Joan to her very core as she listened to it. It honestly used to be serene and calming, but now it just filled her with icy cold dread. She wanted to throw up from the intense terror waving over her, but her stomach was in too tight of knots to eject anything at the moment.

“Divorced.”

A cone of purple light rained down on Aragon. There were the twin beats.

This whole part revolved a lot on timing, and Joan knew if she didn’t say her line at just the right moment, then she would throw Maria off. And she really didn’t want to embarrass her bandmates, too, so she gathered up as much confidence as she could and prepared herself.

“Beheaded.”

The purple light comes down on Anne. The twin beat resounds loudly.

This was her moment. One of her many moments, but a moment no less. She couldn’t fuck it up, not after the way she tripped.

The purple light spills its rays of amethyst over Joan and she takes a deep breath.

“D-ied.”

The twin drum beat thumps heavily. Joan swore the thunderous pulse was enough to shatter her rapidly beating heart, which just picked up even more speed.

Her voice cracked. Her fucking voice cracked.

She wondered if it was possible to swallow her microphone whole and choke on it so she wouldn’t have to do this...

“Divorced.”

A cone of light encased Anna. Joan exhaled deeply, no one seemed to notice. Maybe she could pretend to be sick, people have gone on sick before. Joan prayed that they had an alternate ready before Heart of Stone; she didn't know what she would do if she had to sing that song.

“Beheaded.”

Joan was ready to run, she didn't care about letting the audience down. But then the image of Jane popped into her head, she was frowning, like she was disappointed. Disappointed in Joan. That thought made her stay on stage, rooted in her spot.

“And tonight, London. We are…”

I can do this, She kept telling herself, hoping it would calm her down.

The pause seemed to last much longer than a few seconds. Her nerves mounted as she waiting. Joan raised the mic to her lips a bit early.

Then suddenly she saw Anne take a breath, meaning it was coming.

“Live!" Joan's voice was stronger than she thought, an excited grin adorned her face. I got it! She praised herself.

The show flew by in a whirl of flashing lights, humming harmonies, and barely-contained pride. The longer she performed, the more Joan got comfortable with the role of being the third queen. And the audience didn’t even seem to mind! They looked like they really liked her!

It was just amazing. Every inch of her body was tingling in joy, fueled by an adrenaline rush that seemed to be made of liquid gold. She hadn’t been this energetic about anything in a long time. Her limbs would ache the next day, but she didn’t care. She just continued to sing and dance and be genuinely happy.

The MegaSix soon rolled around, meaning the show would be over soon, and Joan found herself slightly sad while she danced along with the queens. She wished she could play this part forever, that she could always be in the spotlight like this. People would praise her name: Joan Meutas, the False Silver Queen. And they would love her, they would want her autograph and ask to take pictures with her and go to brag to their friends about meeting her.

It would be incredible.

Joan was so wrapped up in dancing and fantasizing her own popularity that she didn’t even realize something was wrong until a cold breeze hit her bare belly.

...Bare?

The audience gasped, yelped, shouted, laughed, whistled.

Cameras flashed.

The queens turned to her, frozen, eyes bulging out of their skull, mouths hanging open like their jaws had been unhinged.

Petrified, Joan slowly looked down at her naked body, shielded only by a bra and underwear, and the silver dress around her feet.

#six the musical #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fic #six fanfiction #six fanfic #six fic #anne boleyn #jane seymour #catherine of aragon #catherine parr #katherine howard #anna of cleves #joan on the keys #they will certainly see more

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ohnomybreadsticks · 4 years

Text

So @jaskiersvalley and I watched Man from UNCLE over the weekend and had an absolute blast!! Not only was the company fantastic, but the AU ideas were unstoppable XD So I’ve gone and written them some geraskier army AU, as a humble offering <3

Lemme start off by saying I know jack shit about the army so please don’t consider ANY of this factual or accurate, sorry!!

Rating: T, ~1.7K words

---

All in all, Geralt would say he liked his job. He wasn’t a sentimental person, no, but there was a pleasantness to the simplicity of it all. Military life had a structure to it, a rhythm and a flow that wasn’t generally disrupted by questions or distractions. He woke every morning at a designated time, completed his training, and went on missions. As a demolitions expert, his job was generally to make sure that the other soldiers could get from point A to point B, although he had seen his fair share of combat. The teams he worked with were generally efficient, and the leadership left little room for individual thought or questioning. As previously stated - pleasant in its simplicity.

That is, until he met Julian, the newest member of Geralt’s combat unit. Julian, or Jaskier, or Specialist Pankratz, or whatever the fuck ridiculous name he was going by on any particular day. The only thing more ridiculous than his plethora of names was his attitude. Geralt had never met a man who delighted in the army-issued beret as much as this idiot - it was always at some jaunty yet terribly impractical angle threatening to slide off his mop of brown hair. If there weren’t strict dress codes to be adhered to, Geralt was sure Julian would have been wearing the most garish colors possible at every opportunity. It was just a feeling he got when he was forced to watch the other man primp and preen in the common bathrooms. He seemed to compensate for the lack of personal touches to his outfit by using twenty different shampoos and body washes, always clutching some new bottle in the shower.

All of these odd practical habits paled in the face of the Noise though, in Geralt’s humble opinion. Julian just...never shut up. Ever. Geralt wasn’t sure he had ever caught the man in a truly silent moment. When he wasn’t prattling on about anything and everything, he was singing softly to himself, or humming. In briefings Geralt had been sure he would get at least a short respite from the incessant noise (after all, even Julian wouldn’t be stupid enough to interrupt a ranking officer while they were talking). And yet, that was not to be, as Geralt’s sensitive ears picked up a tell-tale drumming beat the entire way through the meeting - Julian tapping his fingers softly on the table in front of him.

Geralt had tried everything to dissuade Julian from continuing his incessant chatter. He had tried the silent hulking brute strategy, just glowering at the slightly smaller man any time he got close. This usually worked without Geralt even trying, as evidenced by his lack of other social interaction in general. But Julian didn’t seem to notice or care. Then Geralt had tried snapping at him whenever his babbling began to interfere with his attempts to concentrate. That was even more of an abysmal failure, as Julian seemed to take any words as an invitation for conversation. Even a simple and clear “Shut the hell up!” didn’t dampen his enthusiasm. And with those two strategies exhausted, Geralt was out of options unfortunately. It wasn’t like he could physically assault the other man, seeing as brawling between officers was frowned upon.

So Geralt simply had to endure Julian and his constant stream of chatter. On the plus side, he did get better at tuning the man out, letting his voice become a constant background noise he could choose to concentrate on or not at any given moment. Like, say, when he was trying to calculate the appropriate amount of C4 to blow a steel door, or what kind of land mine might work best for this combat situation. Those were the moments when he most wished for silence, so that he could hear himself think. It wasn’t like his own life and the life of his teammates were on the line thanks to his decisions, Geralt thought grimly. Well, most of his teammates. Julian was never in the thick of it, always off in some perimeter location, the sound of his voice echoing through their comm system instead of directly into Geralt’s ear. Granted, his commentary during missions was at times helpful (descriptions of the terrain, the number of enemy soldiers, the direction of the wind), but Geralt still yearned for the times before Julian had been introduced into his life.

Or at least, that was what Geralt thought he yearned for.

They were out on a mission to capture an enemy encampment, Geralt’s squad coming in after the first wave to secure entry for the main force to follow. Geralt had his full bag strapped across his back but still easily kept up with his teammates, the five of them weaving from cover to cover as gunshots echoed around them. When they reached the side of the main building Geralt got to work, unloading the explosives and affixing them with practiced fingers. His squad spread out to offer cover, Julian’s voice as always in his ear.

“Wow, the light show sure is incredible today! Can’t wait to see what your handiwork will add to the mix!” Julian chirped, “There’s a force mobilizing in the main courtyard, but our guys have them pinned for now.”

Geralt simply grunted in response, a pair of wire cutters gritted between his teeth as he measured and attached the appropriate connectors to make sure none of his men would get caught in this explosion. They’d have the time they needed to get out of here before it blew. Unfortunately, the question of if he’d have time to properly set the explosives was starting to feel like less of a given. The sound of gunshots was getting louder, and Geralt could pick up individual yells and commands being shouted. The sounds of a scuffle, a grunt and a scream, the pound of boots on rough terrain. Suddenly he realized - he could hear all of this because there was nothing coming from his comm link. The voice on the other end had gone dead silent, and Geralt wasn’t prepared for the gut punch of fear that instilled in him. “Julian?” He said, spitting out the wire cutters as he rushed to try and affix the last connector, “Come in, Julian?!” There was no way he could just be gone, just like that. And yet, Geralt knew that on the battlefield that was absolutely a possibility. The silence was so loud it was making his ears ring, the unexpected fear making his fingers clumsy and his pulse erratic. His head whipped around as an enemy soldier suddenly skidded around the corner - his position was compromised. Geralt’s hand went to his belt, reaching for his gun, but in his mind he knew he wasn’t going to be fast enough, wasn’t going to be able to defend himself. He grit his teeth and tried anyways, pistol sliding out of the holster with practiced ease, raising it as fast as his arms would allow -

And the enemy soldier crumpled to the ground, a single shot ringing out in the air.

Geralt was left aiming at nothing, his finger on the trigger shaking almost imperceptibly. “Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed!” The familiar voice on the other end of the comm link said, “That was a perfect shot if I have to say so myself! You get back to those explosives, I’ve got you covered.”

Geralt swore again, for good measure, holstering his gun and returning to his work even as his heart tried to beat out of his chest, relief and adrenaline a heady mix. “You went quiet.” He grumbled, the accusatory words hiding the impact that silence had had on his entire worldview. It wasn’t very nice, and it certainly wasn’t what he should have said to the man who had just saved his life, but Julian didn’t seem to mind. Julian never seemed to mind. He just laughed, the sound mixing with the clink of an empty shell casing popping out of a rifle.

“Of course I did. I had to line up my shot, silly. It was an important one.” Julian explained, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. Geralt didn’t reply, punching in the numbers for the detonation timer, but it was okay. This time, when Geralt fell silent, the voice on the other end of the line filled the void for him. It was the strangest feeling in the world, to realize that at some point, instead of grating at his nerves, Julian’s chatter had become comforting. It was a given in Geralt’s life that he could rely on, a sign of one person who had seen through the bravado and bluster and decided to stay.

The thought echoing through Geralt’s head for the rest of the battle - through the detonation of the wall, through the troops pouring in, through the smoke clouding the air as medics picked through the survivors - was What do I do now? He felt as if he were on the edge of some great revelation, some action he needed to take to still the strange beating of his heart. But the answer eluded him, even as he finally holstered his weapons and pulled back the strands of hair that had escaped their confines during the battle. It wasn’t until he spotted Julian picking his way across the courtyard towards him, ridiculously large rifle slung across his back, that Geralt finally knew what he needed to do.

Julian’s mouth tasted of soot and sweat and life, and he made a delightful squeak as Geralt swooped down to kiss him. His exclamation of “Fucking finally!” was also swallowed up by Geralt’s greedy lips, intent on drinking up every single noise this ridiculously wonderful man would give him. When they parted, panting for air, he looked down to find Julian grinning up at him, and found to his surprise that he was grinning right back. He had made the right choice, after all.

“Don’t go quiet like that again.” Geralt rumbled, hoping Julian could hear the words he really wanted to say - Don’t leave me.

And when Julian replied with a chuckle, “Only if I have to save your life again” Geralt heard his reply loud and clear - You won’t be able to get rid of me even if you tried.

#Witcher #the witcher #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt #jaskier #bready's fic

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staticscreenwriting · 4 years

Text

Right now could last forever - Billy Hargrove

Synopsis: Inspired by “A daydream a way” by All Time Low and the following request: Okay so I wrote this prompt and i’d love to see it with best friend!Billy. “Are you jealous or something?” “Have i not made that obvious? Of course i’m jealous!”

Please help a girl out by reblogging. Thank you

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

For the longest time, I was convinced of two things.

One, I was convinced that in every friendship there comes a moment when the line between friendship and more becomes extremely visible. You can see it quite clearly. And in that moment you get to decide whether to cross it or not. Once the moment has passed, that’s it. That one little choice defines that relationship from that point on.

And two, I would never get myself tangled up in a relationship where that line was not clearly defined.

For the longest time in my life, I was a fucking dumbass.

Billy Hargrove came into my life in the fall of 1984. He swept over me like a thunderstorm in summer. Loud and unforgiving and filled with rage. Someone, and I can’t remember who that was, once said that misery loves company. I never believed in those words until I met Billy.

There was something about him that was so intoxicating. I wanted to know him, genuinely know him. He had a perpetual scowl on his face but that wasn’t what I cared about, I didn’t entirely buy that. His eyes, they were so sad, so deeply sad. I knew that sadness because it was the same feeling that looked back at me every time I looked into a mirror.

For a while, we were orbiting around each other like two planets always close but never destined to meet. And then, somehow, somewhen, the universe shifted and we collided and life as I knew it was never the same again.

He asked me to tutor him in English, said he didn’t really understand the shit he had to read, said those big words didn’t make sense to him. I said yes because if someone like Billy asks you for a favour, you don’t say no. Billy who was always so effortlessly cool and unbothered.

I looked at him then and I knew then, that we would never have that moment where lines had to be defined. Because a guy like Billy didn’t even know lines existed when it came to girls like me. I did though. I knew there wasn’t gonna be a moment because I took it away from us. I drew the line myself. Nothing was ever gonna come of this that was ay more than a friendship. I thought I knew it then and so I took it upon myself to define things that never needed to be defined. And I drew the line and I thought that was it.

Back then I was so sure that we could never be anything but friends. I was a rainy day in spring. I was muted colours and damp grass and hayfever. Billy was the middle of summer. He was warm august evenings, BBQs with friends, 4th of July fireworks.

I tutored him about 2 or 3 times and it felt like it was always supposed to be this way, Billy and me. Like two puzzle pieces fitting so well. We bonded over our love for the same bands and our hatred for the same stupid things. But what really brought us together was the realization, that the same sadness lived in both our hearts.

From then on, Billy was a permanent fixture in my life. Like once he was there he wasn’t gonna leave again, ever. Like my life was a vinyl record and he was a scratch and no matter how much you polished or scrubbed it wasn’t gonna go away. No, that metaphor doesn’t hold up because Billy wasn’t a bad thing. He was maybe the one good thing in my life. He was permanent, like a tattoo. Something, someone, I chose to have around. Someone to make me remember what it felt like, being alive.

Tuesdays were my favourite days because we had his whole house to ourselves. My parents didn’t give a shit where I was and his dad and Susan had to work all day. Max was hardly around either way and so it was just us.

We sat on the ugly gray linoleum floor of his kitchen passing a joint back and forth, goofy smiles on our faces. That’s how we spent most Tuesdays, getting high and just — being. Just being around each other. What else was there to do for a teenager in Hawkins Indiana in 1984 though? What do you do in a town where kids and teens go missing on a regular basis and yet everyone goes about their day as if it was nothing special? I mean, yeah they built us a huge ass mall but what good did that do? All they did was add capitalism to this mess.

So we sat there, giggling and dreaming dreams too big for us and using words we didn’t really understand. Or maybe we did but we surely weren’t aware of the gravity they held then. Words like forever.

“ What’s your favourite colour? “ Billy asked me one Tuesday afternoon. He didn’t give me time to finish though. “ And don’t say shit like seafoam green or something. I don’t got a fucking clue what seafoam green is. Just — just gimme a straight answer. “

I didn’t tell him that my favourite colour was the exact shade of blue of his eyes. Or maybe the red of his lifeguard shorts that made him almost glow in the summer sun. I thought it then but I didn’t say it. You don’t say stuff like that and expect the line not to be crossed.

The line. That fucking line I draw myself. I had to remind myself of it every once in a while when my thoughts went drifting and the line felt like it was going to smudge a little. I had to draw it again. In the sand. In the clouds. Anywhere. Everywhere. I couldn’t let myself forget about it. Because forgetting would only end in heartbreak.

“ I like red. “

“ Yeah? I like red too. “ And that made perfect sense to me then because he was red. Anger and wrath and chaos. Warmth. Comfort. Love.

“ What are you grinning about, huh? Looking like a fool over there. “ I wondered, nudging his thigh with my foot. He just kept grinning, tiny wrinkles forming around his smile, his eyes. He always smiled with his eyes, at least when the smiles were genuine. I adored that.

“ Nothing.”

“ Wish you could see your face right now. It’s not nothing, clearly”

“ I don’t know, “ Billy replied and shrugged “ I’m just — I like our Tuesdays. I like not having to get back to anything. Right now, right now could last forever and I wouldn’t mind. Wouldn’t give a single fuck.”

That made my heart beat so fast, I could feel it in my chest, drumming in my ears, tingling in my fingers. But that’s what friends do, right? Spend all their time together. Share a place that feels safe. Even if that place isn’t a specific place at all. Maybe that place could be a person. A heart.

It was clear to me then, that Billy Hargrove was my soulmate. Maybe not in a romantic way but in a way that meant much more. My heart was his, my soul was his, my mind was his. And in return, I had all of him. No longer were we orbiting around each other, we were the same then. One lone planet floating around in the universe. Terribly alone but never lonesome.

The thing about the line is that something I wished I hadn’t drawn it. Sometimes I wanted to smudge it like lead on paper. I knew I couldn’t do that, it would ruin what we had. I could’ve just as well have ripped my own heart out, the pain would’ve matched.

So when things got all quiet and I felt like life wasn’t gonna judge me too harshly, and when I felt really really down or really really brave, I let myself get lost in daydreams. Ones where I stepped over the line, into something else. Something more. I let myself relish in those daydreams, soak them up like a goddamn sponge. They overwhelmed me sometimes, leaving me with nothing to say, because I just didn’t know where to start and where to stop. But those daydreams felt safe. I could watch from this place of security and if I kept my mouth shut and keep my feelings in those daydreams, it meant I never had to lose what we had.

Weekends meant going out. They meant getting away from everything but each other. Never from each other. Sometimes we would go to Carmel, sometimes Lafayette, sometimes Terre Haute. Most of the time though, we ended up in some dive bar at the side of the road in some tiny village. No one knew us there and maybe that was the charm of it all. We could be anyone. We could be anything. Even to each other. If only I would’ve let myself feel those things.

Billy drove the Camaro to wherever it was we were going and the we’d decide on who would drive us back. Usually, we took turns. One weekend I would stay sober, the next he would. I didn’t realize then, but Billy letting me drive his car, his baby, that meant a whole lot. To the both of us. It’s just that neither of us was terribly aware of it then.

It was the summer of 1985, a warm June night. The fireflies were back, the cold of the winter and spring finally gone, making way for summer heat and longer nights. We drove aimlessly around, trying to find a place to waste away our youth, get drunk of things they shouldn’t have sold us, to feel alive. It was an escape for us. From our lives, our fears, everything that made life feel so wrong. Those nights driving along the roads, music blasting from the car radio, those were the little moments that my life felt right.

Like nothing mattered but us and the vastness of the world waiting before us. A world that didn’t know us yet. One the let us be whoever we decided to be. Sometimes I wondered if in that world I could be a girl that Billy liked. But then I remembered the line. And I shut those thoughts out.

O'Charley's was an Irish pub a few towns over from Hawkins. It was, I assume, founded by someone that had never been to Ireland in their life nor did they know anyone Irish. It was very little authentic Irish pub and quite a lot party city with all the paper shamrocks and tiny flags everywhere. It was charming though, in all it’s mess there was something about it that made us come back time and time again.

That June night, I was wearing a red dress I had snagged from my mom’s closet. For all her faults, she really was a looker in the 70s and her clothes had no business hanging untouched and unloved in her closet because she had decided the 80s were her time to shine in boring velour pants and blouses that made her look 10 years older.

So I wore that red wrap-around dress that flowed around my knees with every step I took and I thought that if I can veil myself in red, in Billy’s colour, maybe I can trap a little of him, of his energy, of his confidence, of his warmth, in me.

All the people here knew about us, was our faces and the fake names on our fake IDs. We could be anyone we wanted to be in here. And for a pair of 17-year-olds that is the biggest power one can only possess. To be whoever you want to be in a world that tries so hard to put you down over and over again and squish you in a mould of picket fences and loveless marriages. Time stood still for the nights I was with Billy in a bar where no one knew the real us. Or maybe they did. Maybe we were the real us when we were there.

I can not tell you what Billy wore that night, this boy had 4 different outfits that he kept rotating. In the end, it didn’t really matter though, he looked hot in all of them. I know that it was hot though and his shirt was unbuttoned more than usual, letting me see more of his chest. Sometimes I wondered if he knew what it was doing to me despite the fact that he was my best friend. My person.

We sat at the bar, I ordered a beer, Billy ordered a cherry coke. That was tonight's driver decided. I gave him a grateful smile and he just smiled back with his casual coolness. So we sat there, Whitesnake playing from the stereo, smiles on our faces. And life was right how it should be all the time. For a short while, the demons we both carried on our shoulders were mute. We could breathe.

“ Look at that douchebag. “ Billy laughed and nodded his head towards the corner of the room. A guy that looked about our parents' age, hair slicked back, shirt stuffed into his jeans, tie hanging loosely from his neck, was leaning against the wall. His lips were almost glued to the ear of a beautiful woman. She must’ve been around the same age he was though beauty wasn’t lost on her in those years. It was hard to watch though, as her eyes were so desperately vacant. There was nothing there. No joy, no excitement. He was wearing a ring, she was wearing one too. We could only assume that those two had seen a few years together. Maybe this was their night out. Kids dropped off at the sitter those two felt like hitting the town, reliving their youth.

Only when you’re stuck in a gray, loveless, sad mess for too long, it takes over your entire being. It turns you into a gray mess yourself. I knew that because I could see it every day in my own parents. Billy knew because his mother had to break his heart in order to escape her own heartbreak and the mess.

“ He’s trying too hard, the idiot. “ Billy chuckled. This was something we did a lot, sit and watch people and pretend our lives would never end like theirs. And god, did we hope and pray we wouldn’t end up like this.

“ She’s so desperate to just get back home,” I pointed out, taking another sip from my beer.

“ Their names, “ Billy started “ are Jeff and Hillary. They’ve been married for 20 years now. Jeff is an accountant at Hillary’s dad’s firm. Good ol’ Hilly dreamed of becoming a model for Sports Illustrated. Then she got knocked up and settled for a life in the suburbs with Jeff who’s as exciting as a piece of untoasted toast.”

“ They have three kids, and she loves them, “ I continued, “ but god sometimes she really resents them for being the reasons she had to give up on all her dreams. Give up on the person she used to be. “

“ Two more drinks, then they’ll go home and have boring, unsatisfying sex. He’ll hump away and break a sweat and two minutes later he’ll fall asleep and she’s gonna stare up at the ceiling and consider finishing the job herself, cause Jeff clearly doesn’t care. And she’ll just stare and wish that this wasn’t her life. Because she hates it.”

Where things had started out fun, they turned quite sad quite quickly.

“ Promise me we will never end up like this, “ Billy said, now facing me. My favourite shade of blue, so vibrant, so soft. I nodded, because I was lost for all words. That’s the effect Billy had on me and everyone else.

The line! You drew it! Remember it!

I ordered a tequila then. “ We’d never stand a chance,” I thought “ at love, not Billy and I.”

So I tried to forget about my thoughts, with a little salt and a little lime and a shot that burned all the way down. Tried to forget about those intrusive little words and images that I knew could never be.

I don’t know how much later it was but at some point, Billy’s warm big handheld onto my arm to steady my swaying frame. I could tell you what it felt like when he looked at me then, if I had the vocabulary to properly put it into words. I knew then, that if no one else, Billy was there to take care of me. That with crossing the line I would give up on this. This love that was certainly there even if it was in a completely different way. Maybe this was all the love I would ever need in my life.

“ Let me take you home. “

But did he not know? Home was wherever he was. Home was him.

We arrived back at my house which was deserted, as always. Weekends were when my own parents tried to rekindle a flame that had never been there in the first place. I was invisible. Maybe that’s what drew me to Billy, he saw me. All of me. And he understood in ways I had never been understood before.

“ Are you okay getting up by yourself ? “ he asked, his eyes looking towards the window of my room. Was I okay? Sure I could’ve managed by did I want to? Did I want to be all by myself in a house that felt so cold even in those warm summer nights? No, I really didn’t.

“ I thought you’d stay over again ?”

“ You’re not sick of me yet ? “ the way he said it sounded so nonchalant, like he was completely joking. He wasn’t I knew him better than that. When everyone always makes you feel like a burden, it’s hard to accept that some people actually want your around. It’s hard to accept love when life’s always made you believe you didn’t deserve it.

“ I’ll never get sick of you, Billy” and I had never been more serious about anything else in my life.

Okay, maybe the line was getting a little smudged.

“ I’ll lend you one of my sleepshirts.”

“ Lucky me.”

And he held my hand as we got up like it was nothing. And maybe it wasn’t to him at that point, but it was everything to me. Maybe to him it was just holding a friend’s hand who has drank a little too much. But that’s all it had to be to send my heart beating faster.

There had been countless times before that Billy had spent the night but the more I let myself get lost in those comforting daydreams, the more my stomach started fluttering when he was near. We wouldn’t cuddle, not really, not when we got to sleep. We’d just lay next to each other, two pillows one blanket. We’d just exist around each other and try to not let the weight settle back in just yet. He was so close I could feel the warmth

his body was exuding, could hear him breathing. He was so close and yet the most we’d touch was my legs accidentally brushing his or the other way around.

“ I never wanna live in a house like this ever again, “ I told him then, sheltered by the dark of the night. “ It’s so empty and sad and big and I just — I hate it here.”

He was real quiet for a moment but I knew he would answer soon enough. When he was with me, Billy had a habit of really considering his words. Maybe because I knew I listened to what he had to say, I cared.

“ Yeah me neither. No offence to your parent’s decorating skills or anything. But god, this house sucks. It’s so — “

“ Sad. It’s a sad big house. “

“ Yeah. “

“ What kind of house would you want? “ I asked and I swear in that moment I felt his hand brush mine. Only for a second. But it was there. It was there.

“ One by the beach. Where I can just open the door and walk onto the sand and down to the shore. I’d like a fire pit on my property, those are cool. “

“ They really are. I can see us sitting by the fire pit, eating smores, watching the waves. That sounds nice. “

Shit, did I say that? I did. And I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Right there and then. Lines, (Y/N) !!! Remember the god damn lines you drew yours—

“ I’d like that. “

That moment, the moment he said those words, I wondered for the first time if maybe Billy didn’t see the line between friendship and relationship because to him there was none. Not because he didn’t see me as suitable but because he just didn’t think in those convoluted and ridiculous ways I did. There were no lines because Billy didn’t need them to define anything, he chose to define things himself.

“ I want a house that’s a home. Something that’s more than 4 walls and a roof. “ he said and smiles at me. Billy Hargrove smiles were rare but when he would grant them to you, they were magnificent.

I fell asleep with lines smudged and everything I knew shaken up. I also fell asleep with my hand in his.

The next morning, I woke up cuddled into his chest. I closed my eyes again to hold onto the moment just a little longer.

Things didn't drastically change after that, my world didn’t suddenly shift. Billy and I were still best friends and if I am being completely honest, they seemed rather stagnant after that night. Like either of us was afraid of making a wrong move.

Like I’ve mentioned before, I was a fucking dumbass back then because instead of trying to have a grown-up conversation with him about it, I decided to look for romance elsewhere.

Kyle Davis was a nice guy. He was part of the school newspaper, drove a red BMW and worked part-time at Sam Goody inside Starcourt mall. Kyle Davis was also the son of one of Hawkins most respectable lawyers and was sure to follow in his father’s footsteps one of these days.

And Kyle Davis, for some reason I don’t understand to this day, was interested in me. Followed me around like a lovesick puppy. I had no real interest in him but as I said, he was nice and I wanted to see what it felt like, having someone who wants you too and who isn’t afraid to tell you that.

So when he asked me to the summer formal, I said yes. Something that Billy did not like. Not one bit.

“ Kyle Davis ? “ he all but yelled as he slumped down on the bleachers next to me. The sun was shining down on us with warm, golden rays. I was trying to focus on some stupid math problem, papers and books spread on the bench next to me.

“ What about him ? “

“ You’re going to the dance with him ? “

“ Yup. Is that a problem ? “

“ I mean — “ he said then huffed “ I mean yeah. It’s Kyle Davis. Kyle. “

“ He’s nice. “

“ Sure he is. A nice guy with a stable future. Someone’s already warming his chair at dad’s cosy office where he gets everything handed to him. Let’s see how this is gonna play out, huh ? “

“ Billy don’t.”

“ Nah, let me have this one. So Kyle takes you to the dance, you smooch a little, maybe he gets to cop a feel. Obviously he wants to keep you around because you’re pretty great. So you date and at some point you gotta talk about the future because graduation isn’t all that far off. And Kyle is the kind of guy that expects you to stay with him, follow him wherever he goes. Let’s pretend you would. Soon enough he’d get you knocked up with little Kyle Junior. He’d be out at work all day letting you turn bitter and resentful and hate the life you have, all alone in a big empty house with a kid you can’t love properly because you don’t love their dad or the life he made you live. And soon enough you’d end up in a shitty pub trying to chase something that wasn’t there in the first place. I don’t wanna watch you end up like Hillary at the pub. “

“ God, Billy. Don’t be so dramatic, I’m just going to the dance with him. What’s wrong with you, are you jealous or something ? “

I was expecting him to deny it, to blow me off with some stupid yet charming one-liner. He didn’t though, he stayed quiet. And that made my eyes shoot up to look at him.

There was a sincerity in his eyes that I wasn’t used to. An indescribable confidence and yet he looked more nervous that I had ever seen him before.

“ Have I not made that obvious? Of course I’m jealous! ”

“ I — what ? “

Everything I ever thought I knew, was pure and utter bullshit.

“ Jesus, (Y/N). I have been in love with you since the first time we hung out. I asked you to tutor me because I wanted to be around you, I was really fucking good at English class if I’m being honest here. I didn’t need your help but I needed to know you. I wanted to know you. You just don’t fucking realize how — incredible you are. In everything you do. Your grilled cheese sandwiches are so good, you manage to remember the lines to every song instantly, you don’t know how to pronounce melancholy and I think that’s so adorable. I feel incredibly lost and angry and disillusioned with life. I hate so much about myself but you, you understand it and you feel it with me and — you're everything I love about the things I hate in me. So please, if there’s even a teeny tiny chance for me, don’t go out with him.”

I didn’t answer, because I didn’t know what to say at all. And then a second passed and I knew this was the moment.

This was that moment where I got to decide how my life was gonna go. Where I got to chose the person I wanted to walk alongside. And it was Billy. It always had been.

I’m not sure who kissed who first then but one moment he was pouring his heart out to me and the next our lips were touching. That’s when my summer truly began. His red-hot took over my dull gray and turned it into something bright and wonderful and exciting.

“ Do you actually wanna go to the dance ? “ he asked as we pulled away, “ cause if you do I’ll take you. I just — don’t own a suit., so … “

“ How about we ditch that stupid dance and take and just get away from it all. I just wanna be with you, Billy. You are my home. “

It was the summer of 1985 when I learned what love really was. It doesn’t come with rules or regulations. There’s no rhyme or reason to it sometimes. That’s a scary fact to realize and even scarier to accept. You can’t trick it, manipulate it. It’s no game to be won or lost. It’s — I believe it’s bigger than any human can fully comprehend.

So all that we can do, it let it move us, allow ourselves to feel it and accept the love when it comes our way. No lines needed.

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