#the boys knew nothing about pop culture before they died tell me I’m wrong

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - I bet i love you

Gif if not mine, but i swear she looks prettier every time i look at her.

Summary: Prompt based from @ecruzsalaz: The one where Wanda is popular, and Reader is a nerd. The popular kids do a bet that Reader will fall in love with Wanda. Everything will be reveal after their trip. 

Warnings: Light angst, kissing, teasing, underage drinking, lies, Vision being an idiot completely out of canon.

Words:  13.446 k /// Read on AO3

Notes: I don’t even know what happen here. I’m been busy and this took a lot of days to be done, but it’s finally here, hope @ecruzsalaz will be satisfied haha. Good reading everyone and apologies for any typo, it sucks to translate so many words. There are a few pop culture references, i wonder if anyone will catch those.

Marks (if i forgot your name tell me i’m lost):  @mionemymind @abimess

In your last year of high school, you just wish things would be peaceful.

The previous years hadn't exactly been ideal, since you were surrounded by assholes, but you are optimistic.

Your small, select group of friends, consisting of exactly two people, who you could swear were probably the only decent human beings left in West View High School, were currently the only reason you still wanted to go to high school.

Right now, for example, you were sitting in the outer cafeteria, a book of historical fiction to escape reality plus headphones with some old rock music that you weren't really listening to, since you were so focused on the story you were reading. And then someone pulled on your headphones, and you looked up ready to complain, but the mischievous smile of your best friend Bruce Banner was all you could find.

- I've been calling you for five minutes. - He said, sitting down on the stool in front of you. You smiled, apologizing, and put your cell phone on the table. - No problem, you always do that.

You laughed awkwardly, closing the book while Bruce put his backpack on the table.

- Where is Mon? I haven't seen her today. - You tell him, but Bruce shrugs. 

- Maybe her mother changed shifts again. - He comments, and you make a noise with your mouth of agreement. Whenever Maria, your friend Monica's mother, switched shifts at work, she would be late for first periods. It has been like this since primary school.

- You still haven't let me see your schedule. - You told Bruce with a slight frown, and he laughed, going through his pockets. Then he took out his cell phone, fiddled with the screen for a few seconds, and then handed it to you. You read the attached class schedule with a frown. - Bruce! You didn't sign up for half the classes you took last year?

He shrugged, running his hands through his hair.

- Yeah, I think I'll focus more on what I want for college. - He explained a little shyly. - I was getting too anxious about all that stuff. And honestly, you should have done the same.

You made a grumbling sound with your mouth, and started biting your thumbnail as you finished looking at the schedule. You would barely have any classes together. And then you handed the cell phone back to your friend.

- I would do it if I had any idea what I wanted to major in. - You tell him. - It's better to have several interests on the curriculum, so I'll have more course options.

- You can also develop burnot. - He remarked with mild irony, and you laughed, looking away.

The bell for the first class then rang, and the two of you exchanged a look before getting up. Bruce kissed you on the cheek before heading in the opposite direction, and you grumbled lightly as you picked up your book and walked to the chemistry labs.

In the hallway of the main building, a few meters before the entrance to the lab, someone bumped into you. It was one of the boys from the team, who was laughing at something his colleague said. Your notebooks fell to the floor, and the boy looked at you with contempt.

- Watch where you're going weirdo. - He warned and you rolled your eyes.

- You're the one who bumped into me, you brute. - You grumbled angrily. The boy just laughed and walked away.

After picking your books, you stood up. The athletes at your school were jerks, but you didn't blame only them for their arrogance. The rest of the school, including the faculty, treated them as gods, so they behaved as such.

Sighing with impatience, you entered the chemistry labs, wishing that the day wasn't long.

Darcy Lewis had been your chemistry partner for three years. You smiled as you greeted her and sat down next to her. You were not friends, but she was very kind and extremely intelligent. You really thought you were very lucky to have her as your partner, and then, as if the universe would like to laugh at you, Professor Nakia announced that she was switching partners.

The whole class let out a chorus of dissatisfaction, and one student asked aloud.

- Please, Professor Nakia, we have been working with the same people for three years. Why change now?

- Excellent question, Miss Quinn. - Nakia said, smiling. She was at her desk, finishing putting her materials on top. - Three years is more than enough time for you to create tricks to cheat on my exams. 

The room exchanged complicit and guilty looks, and the teacher kept a serious posture.

- The school board found evidence to indicate this. - She explains. - I was very disappointed to learn that there were students cheating on the evaluation method not only in this class, but in several others. You will notice that all teachers with fixed groups will rotate them from now on. This was a decision made by the principal.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed that you would lose your amazing partner and were running the chance of ending up with someone irresponsible or slacker, just because some kids were careless at cheating. The room let out a chorus of understanding, and everyone began to move around as the teacher indicated the new groups. You ended up sitting with a guy named Vision, who you didn't really know, but you knew was quite popular because he was class speaker, and head of the fencing club.

- Hello, dear. - He greeted you as he sat down, putting his coat on the chair. Vision dressed very well; he was part of the group your classmates called "preps”, even if he was usually hanging out with jocks.

You made a noise with your mouth in greeting, but he didn't seem to mind your lack of sociability. 

Fortunately, Vision was a decent chemistry partner. Although he was bossy, and had a habit of interrupting or explaining as if you were stupid, he was intelligent and knew how to do the experiments. You thought that was enough, since you would only have to put up with him in this class.

Feeling a glance at you, you raised your eyes from the notebook, and were slightly startled to notice Vision looking at you with amusement and curiosity, you frowned ready to ask what's wrong, but then he let out a dry laugh.

- I knew I knew you! - he declared. - You're the Presley freak!

Vision laughed lightly nostalgically, and you felt your face flush, turning your attention back to your notebook. He was talking about the Halloween party in freshman year, where you dressed up as Elvis Presley and the track team decided to nickname you "Presley Freak" for the next whole year. The teasing died down after a while, but Vision brought it back as if it were a good memory.

Fortunately he just shook his head with amusement, and didn't mention it again. When class was over, he didn't say goodbye on his way out, but you didn't care.

//-//

The story that all the teachers followed the new norm of switching partners was true. In History, you lost your partner Bucky Barnes to sit with Natasha Romanoff, equally quiet and intelligent. For the most part, you are satisfied with the partners you got. 

But then in fourth period, biology class, you ended up partnering with someone you never imagined.

Wanda Maximoff was one of the most popular girls in school. You didn't really know her. You were classmates during elementary school, and you even became friends with her twin brother in elementary school, Pietro Maximoff, before he became a complete idiot. But other than that, you didn't know much about her. Although you had a strange sympathy for the girl. Unlike the group of girls she hung out with, Wanda never tormented you at school. Or your friends. She was probably fake and sneaky like the others, but she left you alone, so you had nothing against her.

You were pulling your biology book out of your backpack as the teacher announced the new pairs, and you stopped in mid-motion when she said Maximoff and your name.

Wanda sat down beside you the next moment, smiling politely. You shook your head slightly, dropping your backpack on the floor.

Wanda was surprisingly nice. You didn't talk about anything unrelated to the subject, but she was quick enough to catch your ironic glances when Professor Darkholme made an inappropriate comment or a funny remark, and match it with a smile or a look. 

As the class came to an end, Wanda nodded slightly at you, and you smiled back before gathering your materials.

It had been four months since classes had started, and you were already used to your new partners in class. 

Vision was inconvenient in many comments, as if he took pleasure in recalling your most embarrassing moments in high school, but you learned to change the subject quickly whenever this happened. All you had to do was pretend you didn't know about some subject he mastered, only to hear him explain it to you in the most arrogant manner possible for the next few minutes, effectively distracting him.

Natasha Romanoff was exceptionally sarcastic and ironic, and you sometimes you felt that she was a more aggressive female version of your former partner Bucky Barnes. She was quite individualistic, and you had to make an effort not to get left behind, or you had to constantly remind her that you were a duo, but otherwise she was a good partner, and you were happy to invite her to lunch with you, which eventually became a habit after a week.

And then you had Wanda Maximoff. You weren't friends, but you had a strange kind of complicity as biology partners. You never would have guessed that Wanda would have a sense of humor so similar to yours. Two classes in a row, and you already had inside jokes about the way Ms. Darkholme caught the attention of her students. Two weeks in, and you two knew how to cheat your way through assignments. You didn't know how to make friends, and judging by the history of who Wanda was hanging out with, you had the impression that she wouldn't want to develop any kind of relationship with you. And honestly, this was your last year, you wouldn't see these people again, so you were more than satisfied to have just one good lab partner.

With the mid-winter vacations approaching, you were looking forward to getting some rest.

Non-Reader Pov

- God, Wanda, why are you talking about that weirdo again? - interrupted Vision impatiently. His girlfriend blinked in confusion, looking away awkwardly.

- I'm just commenting on a joke we…

- Really, Wanda? - He interrupted again with an accusing look. - It seems like all you do lately is "comment" on your little jokes in class. - He sneers as he settles down on the sofa. The two of them stand together outside the school, their group of friends watching the discussion with amusement. - I don't know why you talk to her at all. She is so silent and awkward with me in chemistry class.

Wanda bites the inside of her cheek, looking forward. 

- I think your girlfriend has a girl crush. - Tony Stark sneered next, making everyone laugh. Wanda frowned, feeling her heart race.

- You are an idiot. - She grumbled impatiently, crossing her arms. Vision looked at her curiously.

- Honey, don't tell me that you actually appreciate that girl? - he asks ironically, and Wanda rolls her eyes without looking at him. Vision laughs. 

And then Tony is holding out a craft-paper covered bottle to Vision, and he takes a sip, coughing slightly afterwards. Wanda frowns at the scene, but none of her friends seem concerned that they are drinking during school hours, as the bottle continues to pass in everyone's hand.

- You know, I think it's sweet that you have sympathy for that freak. - Tony comments a moment later and Wanda tells him to fuck off, making him laugh. 

- I think we are witnessing a beautiful love story. - Mocks Pepper, Tony's girlfriend, approaching the three of them as she sits on Stark's lap. Wanda rolls her eyes, as the group laughs. And then Vision has a thoughtful expression.

- I have an idea. - He says slightly drunk, as he throws his arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. - Let's make a bet.

Tony and Pepper let out excited exclamations, while Wanda frowns.

- What kind of bet?

- Well, you guys remember when the weirdo dressed up as Presley for Halloween, right? - he asked, and Tony and Pepper laughed, agreeing. - And then Pietro saw her kissing that girl who hang with the bikers, Jones something.

- Jessica. - Pepper clarified before taking another sip of her drink. 

- Then we know she's a dyke. - Vision says, but Tony frowns.

- Wasn't she dating that guy with the long hair and the angry face? 

- Barnes? - Vision asked and Tony nodded. - I don't think so. Anyway, she is into girls. - he said and the group nodded in agreement. - I mean the bet is this: I can prove that she is just like everyone else in this school. Give her a bit of our attention, and she will be completely obsessed.

- Vis, what are you talking about? - Wanda asked, and Vision laughed ironically.

- It's very simple, love. - He says. - You are hot. Everyone knows that, and even someone like her, who pretends not to be part of the social circles of this school, can see that. - He clarifies, and the group looks at him intently. Wanda doesn't say that she doesn't like being objectified, swallowing the bitter feeling in her stomach. - So my bet is that you win her over. It should take what, one or two dates for her to be completely in love with you.

The friends laugh in irony and Wanda thinks she should follow, but only a forced laugh escapes. Because of the alcohol, no one notices.

- This is ridiculous. - Wanda comments and then Vision looks at her with irony.

- Unless you're getting attached to the girl, dear. - He sneers, and the group laughs. Wanda swallows dryly, shaking her head in denial. - So, what's the problem? You'll just prove me right. And you will realize that there is nothing special about her. 

- I think we can make this even more fun. - says Tony with a wicked smile. - I bet you a hundred bucks that Wanda will fall in love too.

Tony sneers and the group laughs with irony.

- As if anyone would even like that girl. - Vision declares, accepting another drink. 

- How do we make sure it's working? - Tony asks and Vision bites his lip thoughtfully. Then he lets out an exclamation.

- Our trip! - he says, and then turns to Wanda. - Love, invite the weirdo to the cabin! We can watch you work.

Wanda frowns, but then the group is suggesting ideas of conquest, and laughing, and debauchery, and she hates it. But she smiles, and nods in agreement, accepting the liquor as the bottle comes into her hand.

Reader Pov

You intended to study during the winter vacations. And maybe get out of the room a little if Bruce or Monica visited. Your surprise was genuine when in your last biology term, Wanda Maximoff started talking to you about something other than the subject.

- Hey, are you doing anything this holiday? - she comments amiably. You didn't notice the looks Tony Stark was giving you two from the front seat. 

- Huh... No?

- Are you asking me? - She replies with a smile. You blush, looking away at your notebook. Wanda bites her cheek, and it takes a moment for her to speak again. - I wanted to invite you to something.

You blink in surprise, looking at Wanda. She looks away from the board for a moment, as she wiggles her fingers against her own thigh.

- My friends and I are spending the holiday in a cabin. - She clarifies. - There's all this winter activities, you know. Skiing and stuff like that. I'd like you to come.

- Why? - The question slips out a little harshly, but you can't help it. Wanda looks away, and you almost apologize. But then Wanda smiles, shrugging.

- I'd like to get to know you better, I guess. - She says. - I think it would be fun if we could be friends outside of class.

You look at her suspiciously for a few seconds. But then you sigh, looking down at the notebooks.

- Alright, Wanda. - you say after a moment, ignoring the growing anxiety in your stomach. - Is it okay if I bring a friend?

- Of course! - She confirms excitedly. - You can take whoever you want, it's a big place. 

The teacher gives a warning for side conversations next, and you shut up. You blush when Wanda approaches you to write down her phone number in her notebook. You are distracted enough not to notice her blushing slightly when Tony Stark gives her a mischievous look. 

//-//

- So you actually said yes? - Bruce asked with surprise when you told him about the biology class, while you were having lunch together in the cafeteria. Monica had the same expression.

- Yes, and I would love it if you would go with me, because I think I am close to completely freak out. - You ask with mild desperation and your friends laugh. And then Monica is looking behind you.

- Look, I would be too. They are so... - She starts and you turn around, looking at the group of Wanda's friends a few meters away. The kids are sitting at the table, making noise with their loud laughter. One of them was throwing a football up in the air. A short boy walked past them and was pushed slightly. - I can't even define them.

You let out a grumble, laying your head on your arms on the table.

- This was a bad idea, wasn't it, guys? - you ask. - They're going to eat me alive.

- Why the long faces, nerds? - Natasha asked as she came over to the table, placing the tray of food next to Monica, staring at you. 

And then your friends explained it to her, and you groaned in dissatisfaction when she started laughing.

- You've lost your mind, haven't you? - she asked wryly. - It's a trap, I'm sure.

- There's no reason for it. - You retorted, trying to eat a little. - Besides, it was Wanda who invited me. She said she'd like us to be friends.

- Look, I know that Maximoff is the least worst of the bunch. - Nat began as she opened her soda. - But she still hangs around with those idiots. 

- Yeah, I know. - You agree with a sigh. And then you remember your classes. - I just... She has been surprisingly nice, you know? I think she was being sincere. It's just a trip, it's not the end of the world.

- Good to know you think that. - said Bruce. - Because I won't be able to go.

- What? - You then exclaim.

- I applied for an internship at S.H.I.E.L.D. Labs. - He remarks and you let out a grumble, remembering.

- Shit, it's true. - You say. - I completely forgot about it.

- Girl, I can't go either. - Informs Monica with a guilty expression, and you let out an exclamation. - I'm going to spend the holiday with my father.

You bury your face in your hands. And then you risk a glance at Natasha, and she laughs wryly.

- Don't even try. - She says. - Even if you paid me I wouldn't travel with Tony Stark.

- I'll pay you.

Nat laughs at your desperation, and stops eating, looking at you with surprising kindness.

- You, girl, are adorable and kind. A nerdy cute dork, and I'm sure that if that's not enough for those idiots, they're the problem, not you. - She assures you, and you smile wryly. - Don't worry about pleasing any of them, you're going to become friends with Wanda, aren't you? Try to enjoy the trip, and if anything happens, call me and I'll finish them all off.

You laugh, nodding slightly. You don't want to think so much about this trip, but you know it's going to be the only thing on your mind for the next few days.

The week ended quickly. And you were very anxious when the weekend arrived, and you received a text message from Wanda saying that she would pick you up at home on Saturday morning. You would spend the holiday at the Stark family's winter cottage, a property big enough to fit the whole group. Wanda said it was somewhere with mountains, near a lake, and you bit your lip, wondering if you should bring a bathing suit. Since it was snowing, you figured you wouldn't try to swim anywhere.

On Saturday you were up bright and early, your bags packed. You kissed your parents and your younger brother on the cheek before you left, finding a pickup truck parked in front of your house.

Wanda hugged you when you said good morning to her, and to the boys. Vision and Pietro were in this car, and she said that Tony was in the second car, and had gone for gas.

Vision drove towards the cabin next, and he tried a little small talk before shutting up. Wanda was in the passenger seat, and Vision let his hand rest on her thigh, and you didn't understand the bitter feeling in your stomach.

- God, put on some decent music! - asked Pietro, scrambling up on the seat beside you to reach for the radio.

- Leave it, Pietro! - complained Vision pushing the boy backwards. - You only want to play that emo shit!

Pietro laughed, not insisting. And Vision looked at you through the rearview mirror.

- Let's let our guest choose the music. - he said with a smile. You cleared your throat. 

- Okay. - You agreed, pulling your cell phone out of your pocket. You turned on Spotify next, and when Vision asked if it would be any longer, you bit the inside of your cheek. And then you put on some pop rock.

Nobody said anything, and you thought that somehow you had just passed some kind of test. But then your set list started, and when the classic rock song from the 50's started playing, Vision burst out laughing.

- They don't call you Presley Freak for nothing. - He scoffs, switching to the radio next. 

- I like it. - Wanda comments surprising you, but neither Vision nor her brother change their debauched posture.

- Yes, yes, your taste is terrible too. - He replies with irony. You bite your lips as you watch Wanda roll her eyes and look away to the window. Vision lets Pietro choose the music next.

The cabin was really very big. 

You guys met Tony's car on the way, but he didn't stop. It didn't take long for you to arrive. You smiled in appreciation at Pietro when he carried your bags inside.

You looked at the structure impressed. Tony Stark really was very rich. Hugging your arms lightly after feeling the cool breeze, you smiled politely at Wanda's other friends as they greeted you.

- I am Pepper Potts, and this is Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. - says the blonde girl cheerfully, as she waves to the other boys. - You must have met Tony by now.

- I think I've seen all of you at school. - You say feeling out of place, but they smile as they walk into the cabin. Tony hands the bags to the other boys, and then is throwing an arm around your shoulders, and you want to push him away for the inappropriate contact.

- It's a pleasure to meet you, sweetie. - He says, and you blink when you feel the alcohol. - Who knew that nerds hid pretty girls with them?

The joke makes the group laugh, and you look around uncomfortably. Tony then releases you as you enter. 

Pepper is the one who shares the rooms, and you are happy to know that you won't be sharing with anyone. 

While you are unpacking upstairs on your bed, Wanda joins you.

- Hey. - She greets me as she enters and closes the door. You're folding your clothes.

- Hi, Wanda.

- Is everything okay? - she asks and you nod in agreement. - They can be a bit much sometimes, and I don't want you to get uncomfortable and... Do you like "Bewitched"?

The sudden question startles you and you blink in confusion. Wanda nods at the item in your hands. The T-shirt you are folding has the logo of the old sitcom you used to watch with your parents.

- Oh yes. - You sigh in agreement. - It is one of my favorite shows actually.

Wanda laughs in surprise, crossing her arms.

- Wow, I didn't know that. - She says. - I love this stuff. Vision thinks the jokes are stupid, so don't tell him I'm talking about it.

She jokes and you let out a wry exclamation.

- Why would I tell Vision anything? - You ask and Wanda hesitates slightly, but then smiles.

- No, it was just a figure of speech. - She clarifies as you fold your shirt.

- Right. - You say, not really understanding this conversation. - If you want, we can watch it together anytime. I think we'll have time to do it here.

Wanda looks at you with surprise and excitement.

- Really? I'd love to. - She confirms, and you smile as you finish packing. 

The redhead clears her throat afterwards.

- I just wanted to check on you anyway. - she says. - I think Steve is cooking dinner tonight, so join us when you' re ready.

- Okay, Wanda. - You say. - Thanks.

She smiles before leaving. You stare at the Bewitched's T-shirt on your bed for a few moments before you leave.

Steve tries to cook some chicken breast. And he almost burns the kitchen down. So you are on your feet, investigating the cupboards, and although cooking is not your favorite activity, you don't mind making some chili for everyone. 

- I love Mexican food. - Wanda comments excitedly as she stands next to you and watches you cook. The rest of the group is in the living room, the boys being very noisy as they throw a soccer ball around the room. You smile at the redhead next to you. 

- God, did you see the picture that Tabitha Smith posted on instagram? - Pepper asked aloud, staring at her cell phone. She was sitting on the kitchen counter, a look of disgust on her face. Wanda approached her and quickly looked at the screen. - She put on silicone, I'm sure of it. 

Wanda made a noise of agreement, exchanging a quick glance with you, clearly not caring one bit about the topic, and you smiled, turning your attention back to the pot. Pepper didn't notice and continued making comments about her classmates' social media posts.

- It's ready. - You announce. Your breath catches in your throat as Wanda puts her hand on your waist, leaning behind your back to taste the food. She lets out a satisfied groan, and you feel her cheeks flush.

But then she walks away next, and you struggle to disguise yourself as the boys are joining you, announcing that they are starving. 

- Wow, this is delicious. - said Pepper as soon as you sat down at the table and started to eat. The group agreed, and you blushed with embarrassment. Soon they started talking among themselves, and you tried to keep up as best you could, but the topics weren't really of interest to you.

When you got back to the room, Tony proposed that you all play a game, and then he went through the storage room and came back carrying monopoly.

At first you thought it would be innocent fun, then there were drinks and gambling. 

- It's a four! - shouted Tony excitedly. - That's my property, Wilson! 

Sam let out a grumble of dissatisfaction as he moved his figure around the board. Tony laughed mischievously.

- So, how do you want me to pay the rent?  - Sam asked and Tony made a thoughtful face. 

- With a question. - Tony announces maliciously. - Among the people in this room, tell me who would you have sex with?

Sam laughs in surprise, as the group gives a chorus of excitement. You swallow dryly, uncomfortable with the direction of the questions. So far, the questions and challenges had been innocent and slightly awkward, but after a few beers, the group was clearly getting more excited in other respects.

- Careful with your answer, friend. - Vision warned, putting his arm possessively around Wanda's shoulders. You looked away to the board.

- That might be shocking for a straight guy, Vis. - Sam remarked with mild debauchery. - But not all of us are looking at the girls.

The group laughs in surprise, and Vision rolls his eyes. 

- I would do Steve Rogers for sure. - Sam declares the next moment, and the group lets out a celebratory chorus. Steve laughs too, slightly surprised. Sam just smiles playfully, shrugging his shoulders. Then Steve steps forward, amusing himself by pretending to kiss him, and the group laughs. You smile awkwardly, not really understanding what everyone thinks is funny.

The game continues, and you are doing very well. You laugh when Pepper has to tell you all about the worst sexual experience she has ever had, but you are slightly uncomfortable when Steve has to demonstrate on a pillow his first time. A few rounds later, you grumble in dissatisfaction when you take a five and end up in jail.

- Whoa, that's has a punishment. - Tony announces when he sees your move. You look at him, and he looks excited. - Finally, Presley, your moment has come.

- Tony. - Wanda scolds him for his nickname, but Tony doesn't listen.

- Let me think about it. - He continues with a thoughtful expression, and then a mischievous gleam takes over his gaze. - Have you ever heard that shy girls are the biggest freaks in the room? 

You swallow dryly, feeling your face heat up as the group lets out a laugh. 

- I will not...

- Don't even start. - Tony interrupts your denial with a smile. - Don't spoil the fun. I'll give you a simple challenge.

You bite the inside of your cheek, frowning as you fight the urge to get up.

- Your sentence of freedom will be to give a hickey to the person who gets a six on the dice. - He declares, and the group lets out a chorus of excitement.

And then everyone is rushing to throw the dice and you cross your arms, feeling your face hot.

- If more than one person gets six, you'll give them both a hickey and win immunity for a round! - Tony laughs as he makes up the rules.

Pepper is the first to play, and lets out a despondent sigh when she draws two.  And then Steve plays next, and complains when the die lands on four. Sam and Tony don't get six either. You hold your breath when Wanda rolls, and feel your heart race when the die stops.

- This should be interesting. - Vision comments with mild irony and mischief as he takes his arm off Wanda's shoulders, picking up the die stopped at six. Tony laughs and you can't keep your eyes on the redhead.

Vision gets a four. And then Pietro gets a six, and you grumble.

- I can't believe you're going to get both of the Maximoffs! - Wilson comments with amusement and you swallow dryly, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

- Finally some action. - Pietro jokes as he approaches. He kneels in front of you, and you take a deep breath. - Come on, Y/N, it's just a silly challenge.

He tries to reassure you with a smile, and you try to ignore the staring eyes on the two of you. You think the boys are laughing as you bring your face closer to Pietro's outstretched neck, and land your lips on his skin. He smells like aftershave lotion, but it's just embarrassing to be so close. Pietro lets out a breathless chuckle as you begin to suck on his skin, and he clenches the support of the couch.

You stop quickly, and he pulls away. The red skin glows on his neck. He flashes you the seductive smile, and you look away, listening to the group celebrating. 

- Next, please! - Tony says clearly intoxicated. You feel your racing heart echoing in your ears. Wanda gets up from the couch, and unlike her brother, she completely short-circuits your brain when she sits on your lap. You think someone whistled.

- Wanda, what are you doing? - You mumble clumsily, and she just smiles as she puts her hands on your shoulders.

- Don't you like this position? - she asks and you swallow dryly.

- Come on, girls! - Tony tells you between laughs. Someone knocks over the vodka bottle on the floor, making a mess. You think the group is barely paying attention to you, fighting among themselves to save the rest of the board and Tony's expensive rug, but you're not really taking in anything other than the girl on your lap.

You move forward, sinking your face into her neck and inhaling Wanda's scent. When you let out your breath, she trembles and squeezes your shoulder lightly, making you swallow dryly.

You let your lips kiss her skin, watching Wanda's chest rise and fall, indicating her unregulated breathing. And then you lick her skin, and she chokes. When you suck on her skin, she bites her lips hard, stopping herself from moaning.  And then you let go.

Ignoring the urge to kiss the red dot again, you throw your back against the armchair, moving away. Wanda lets out a breath, and before you can say anything, Tony is complaining that the game is over because the board has been ruined, and she rushes off your lap. 

Your face is very hot when Sam makes a snide remark to you, and then you are all saying goodnight. You don't have the courage to look at Wanda when you go up to your room.

//-//

The next day you go skiing. 

You absolutely suck at it, but so does everybody else, so nobody really cares. 

You don't want to think so much about Wanda's hands on your waist when she teaches you how to do it.

You also don't want to be so annoyed when Vision insists on getting a kiss from her while you are walking back to the cabin.

During the afternoon, you are distracted by a video game with Pietro, extremely surprised that he has invited you to do something. After dinner you go back to your room to read a little, and are astonished when Wanda appears at your door a few minutes after you have gone upstairs.

- How about we watch a sitcom together? - She invites you in, and you shrug as you smile, making space for her to enter your room. She giggles when she notices the open book on your bed. - Of course you brought a book.

You laugh awkwardly as you close the door. Wanda throws herself on your bed, opening the laptop she has brought with her. You take the book out and place it closed on the dresser, before joining her, trying to keep a respectable distance.

She ends up putting on Bewitched, and you are distracted enough by the program.

- Wow, that's kind of wrong. - You comment between giggles. And Wanda laughs lightly, turning the program's attention to you.

- What?

- The joke. - You clarify. - The way they imply that it's okay for boys to behave like that.

- Yeah, I know. - She agrees, turning her attention back to the screen. - But we're still laughing.

- Yeah. - You agree, laughing. - I guess it's okay as long as we don't find it funny in real life.

Wanda makes a noise of agreement with her mouth and then you are silent again. 

Two episodes later, Wanda suggests that you eat something. Then you go downstairs to the kitchen, and find the room empty. 

- Pietro had called the boys to play soccer. - She says. - And I think Pepper and Tony are in their room.

You nod in understanding, following her around the kitchen. Wanda starts preparing a snack for you two.

- What is it? - You ask as you observe her choice of ingredients. She smiles mischievously.

- My masterpiece. - She says. - Just trust me, you'll like it.

You laugh, nodding. When she warms the bread rolls, and starts to pour oregano on top you let out an exclamation.

- Wanda, are you sure you know what you're doing? 

She laughs, shaking her head slightly.

- Trust me on this. - She asks with a smile, starting to cut tomatoes. You cross your arms, not believing that you are actually going to eat that.

And then the sandwich is ready, and Wanda assumes a cheerful posture. She puts the bread on a plate and turns to you, leaving the object on the counter beside you.

You take a piece while she takes another, and together you taste the sandwich while Wanda looks at you expectantly.

It's surprisingly good, and you blink in amazement when you feel the taste, looking away from her to the food.

- Wow, that's good. - You comment before taking another bite. Wanda smiles.

- Really? I'm glad you like it. Vision doesn't like it very much, he says it tastes strange.

You grumble lightly, continuing to eat. Wanda pours you two some soda. You are silent for a moment and when she leaves the phone on the countertop to wash the dishes, your gaze runs quickly across the screen as you reach for your glass.

- Hey, are you into poetry? - you ask as you look at the open Instagram post.

Wanda smiles, nodding.

- That's cool, I think we follow the same page. - You comment quickly pointing to her unlocked cell phone. Wanda looks surprised.

When she finishes washing the dishes, she asks to borrow your cell phone. You spend the next thirty minutes laughing and joking as you compare your Instagram feeds and follower list. You don't want to overthink on how many common interests you have with Wanda.

//-//

On the penultimate day you want to build a snowman.

There is a Hockey game on TV, and everyone seems excited to watch. So you just walk out of the cabin while Tony hands out snacks and drinks to everyone.

You are just finishing assembling the body when you hear footsteps.

- You are very antisocial. - Wanda jokes as she approaches, hands in her pockets. You don't want to think about how adorable she looks.

- Yeah, I know. - You comment with your attention on the snowman. - It's not your friends' fault, by the way, I'm just not a big sports fan.

- All right, I don't see what's so funny about it either. - She says as she stops beside you. - Can I help you with him?

- Let me see your hands. - You ask, and she looks at you in confusion, taking her hands out of her pockets. You deny it. - No gloves, no playing. I don't want you to get hypothermia.

She laughs lightly, putting her hands back in her pockets. You turn your attention back to the snowman.

- We can go for a walk. - You suggest after a moment. - Since we're not going to watch the game.

Wanda smiles, looking away to the cabin.

- Okay.

You finish your snowman in silence. It's decent you think.

- I used to do it all the time. - You tell her as you stand up, putting your hands in your pockets. Wanda looks at you curiously. - But then I grew up and my parents thought it was a kid thing.

- Yeah, I know how that is. - She agrees as you stare at the snowman. - One birthday is all it takes for the treatment to change completely.

You nod in agreement, and then you look at her, signaling for you to go the other way.

You walk side by side in the opposite direction of the cabin.

After spending the whole way talking about the most random subjects, you end up at a small pier, at the edge of the lake that covers the entire back stretch of the cabin. You and Wanda sit side by side on the wood cross-legged.

- We should have brought something hot to drink. - You comment with a smile, hugging your arms for a moment. Wanda nods.

- So, are you enjoying the trip? - Wanda asks and you look away, smiling at the lake.

- I suppose so.

- You suppose? - She replies with amusement, making you laugh.

You clear your throat before speaking again.

- I enjoyed the time I spent with you. - You confess, looking forward. Wanda wiggles her fingers nervously, looking away from you to face the lake as well. - Don't get me wrong, Wanda. Your friends are... nice I guess. But they're not the reason I'm here.

You look at Wanda, and she nods frantically. Your heart is racing, but playing games isn't exactly your thing. You want to know what's going on.

- And you? - you ask, studying her face. - Did you enjoy the time I was here?

- Yes. - Wanda confesses breathlessly, her face flushing slightly. 

Swallowing hard, you look away to the lake again. And then you slowly move your hand against the wood, reaching for Wanda's hand next. You give it enough time for her to move away, or to strike you, and she does neither. Feeling your heart soar, you intertwine your hands, holding back a sigh at how good it feels even when wearing gloves.

Several minutes later, you let out an excited exclamation when you hear a noise in the nearby forest. Turning your head, you confirm your suspicions. A small white fox is looking at you curiously. 

You help Wanda to get up quietly and slowly so as not to startle the animal.

- Hey. - You say softly to the animal, walking towards it. The fox looks at you wide-eyed, but your posture doesn't frighten him. You smile when he lets you pet him.

- He is so cute. - Wanda comments softly, kneeling down beside you. The fox lies down on the grass as the redhead strokes his head.

He tires of the attention quickly however, and the next moment he gives you a look before running back into the forest. You and Wanda laugh lightly as you two stand up.

You walk back to the cabin in silence, a tension in the air that makes your stomach turn. You don't hold hands, but you walk very close together. 

When you are almost to the cabin area, you stand in front of Wanda, pushing her by the waist against a tree. You both sigh breathlessly, but you lose the courage. It's not right, not yet. Resting your forehead on hers, resisting the urge to kiss her, you close your eyes.

- Leave him. - You say and Wanda squeezes her hands in your arms.

Wanda lets out a sigh, closing her eyes like you did, and your faces come closer together.

- I won't share you, Wanda. - You whisper against her lips. - Either you're with me, or you're not.

Resisting the urge to close the distance, you sigh and turn away. Wanda's pupils are dilated as she looks at you. You lock your jaw, putting your hands in your pockets. And then you turn around, and disguise it nicely when Pepper comes out of the cabin, asking where you were, and you just smile and say you went for a walk.

//-//

Vision and Wanda argue on the last day at the cabin. 

You frown as your awakened by the volume of the argument. But you decide not to pry, and when Pepper signals for you to join her on her morning walk, you agree.

- You know, you are surprisingly nice. - She comments as you two take a break for some water.

- Thanks, I guess. - You mumble, and she laughs.

- What I mean is that nerds are usually know-it-all types and not at all sociable. - She explains. - You're quiet, but you're fun.

- Who says I'm not a know-it-all. - You retort with amusement, and Pepper laughs as you walk back.

- I'm just saying that it turned out to be nice to invite you over despite everything.

- Despite everything what?

Pepper laughs awkwardly, shaking her head.

- The differences between our groups I say. - She quickly clarifies. You don't perceive the lie. - Maybe there is a chance for us to remain friends after here.

- Why wouldn't we? - you ask confused. Pepper seems to be talking as if it is impossible for you to continue talking to each other after the trip is over, and you don't understand why.

Pepper blinks in embarrassment, and then pats your arm, hurrying her steps.

- It's nothing, I'm just overthinking it. - she says. - I'm sure it will all work out.

You don't ask any more questions because she's walking too fast, and exercise isn't really your thing. You're struggling to keep up.

//-//

After your walk with Pepper, you agreed to let Steve teach you how to play a bit of hockey. And then you all had lunch together, and Wanda avoided all your attempts to start a conversation with her. You figured she was upset with her boyfriend, so you didn't press her.

Later in the afternoon, after you played snowball wars with everyone, and perhaps laughed more than appropriate when Wanda kept hitting Vision in the face, Steve made a fire in the backyard area and everyone gathered around.

- Let's tell some horror stories, please? - Pietro asked as he sat down, and Tony slapped him on the head, laughing. 

- You are such a baby. - he sneered, holding out a bottle of whiskey to Steve. You rolled your eyes, impatient with Stark's annoying mania for proving his maturity.

Then he began to share sex stories, and the group seemed happy to join in. The bottle swirled around, and you let it pass you by without taking a sip. It stopped at Wanda, and she drank much more than anyone else.

- And you, Y/N, don't you have any sinful stories to share with the group? - teased Tony ironically, and you rolled your eyes.

- I prefer to be silent.

Tony laughed at her hostility.

- Now all that's left is for you to say you're a virgin! - he sneered, causing the group to laugh. You exchanged a quick glance with Wanda, who didn't even seem to be listening, the whiskey bottle still in her hands.

- I'm not, but if I were that wouldn't be your business - You retort impatiently. Tony whistles impressed.

- Tell us how it was! - he asks excitedly. - I bet it was Jessica Jones who fucked the weirdo!

You stand up abruptly as the group laughs.

- You're drunk, and you're talking shit. - you say angrily. - But if you ever annoy me again, I will punch you right in the face!

Tony seems slightly impressed by your attitude, but he is clearly drunk so he shrugs his shoulders. You then leave, returning to your room.

Non-Reader Povs

- What is your problem? - Pietro complained as soon as Y/N entered the cabin. Tony blinked surprised and alcoholic.

- It was just a joke, it's not my fault she's weird. - He retorted with a wry laugh.

Pietro let out an irritated exclamation.

- You know what? - He spoke angrily, looking at everyone. - What we're doing is wrong.

- What was that? - Vision sneered, but Pietro looked at him seriously.

- You heard me. - he said, getting up. - She's a nice girl and she's been fun to be with. That bet was stupid.

The teens exchange guilty glances, but then Tony and Vision are laughing.

- One hickey and you're in love, Maximoff? - Vision sneered and stood up, as Pietro clenched his jaw. 

- You're an asshole. 

- Oh, I'm an asshole? - Vision retorted ironically. - This little scene of yours is absurd, treating your friends as if we were the villains of the story. - he says laughing. - The girl is a weirdo who must be absolutely fascinated that people like us even talk to her!

Pietro looks at him impatiently, but Vision does not lose his debauched posture.

- Shut up. - Wanda's drunken speech startles the group. Vision turns to her in surprise, but then he laughs.

- That's excellent. - He says. - Both Maximoffs teaming up against the group.

- You're full of shit. - Wanda exclaimed angrily, getting up, and Vision shook her head. - She's not...

- She's not what dear? - He interrupted. - You know I'm right. In fact, I bet if you go up to her room right now, you won't even need to ask twice and she'll fuck you.

- Vision! - Pietro exclaims angrily, but he stares only at the redhead, who has her jaw clenched.

- Everyone just wants to fuck you, Wandy. - He says. - There's nothing worthwhile beyond that.

Wanda holds back the tears in her eyes, bumping into Vision as she leaves, and the boy laughs, shouting between giggles that he was only joking, but the redhead doesn't turn around. 

- That was cruel. - Potts then said, and Vision let out a wry laugh.

- It was just a joke. - He says and sits back down. - You girls are so sentimental. 

Pietro then leaves, and Vision rolls his eyes. Steve and Sam exchange a look with Pepper.

- You can't really think it's okay to say something like that to your girlfriend. - Steve said annoyed. Vision laughs, incredulous at Steve's insinuation. - What is it, people? - he replies. - I just said she's hot, how is that a bad thing?

- You know, Pietro is right. - Steve said as he got up. - This whole story is absurd. - Steve, come on. - No, he is right. - Sam then agreed. And then Pepper stood up, exchanging a look with Tony. - Good, then. - Vision exclaims angrily. - Be my guests! I suppose you'll start hanging out with the school's weirdos on Monday then. You guys are a joke. Hypocrites. Vision grumbles before exiting angrily, walking towards the trail. The group exchanged a guilty look.

Reader Pov

You had just finished showering and putting on your pajamas when Wanda came into your room. You frowned in surprise, and let out an exclamation when she pushed you onto the bed and sat you on your lap.

- What are you doing? - you asked, and Wanda just grumbled, trying to unbutton your pajamas, but clearly too drunk to do so. - Wanda, stop. Wanda!

- That's what you want, isn't it? - She retorts with irritation, but her eyes are filled with tears. - Everyone wants to fuck the hot girl.

- Wanda, what are you talking about?

But then she's crying, falling against you. You let your arms go around her, trying to calm her down. She only stops crying when she falls asleep.

You don't know what has happened, but you feel your heart clench. Moving to the bed, you lay Wanda down on the mattress, then cover her with the blanket. 

When you consider going to sleep in the living room, she takes your hand and whispers "stay," and you obey her.

//-//

You wake up with Wanda entwined with you. It is warm and comforting, and you smile shyly at the sensation. 

The redhead starts to wake up next, grumbling as she buries her face in your neck, making you smile.

- We have to get up. - You whisper to her. - We're leaving.

- In a minute.

She says and it really only takes a moment for her to open her eyes, and be startled by the position. She awkwardly pulls away from your embrace, but still lies there. You turn on the bed to look at her, resting your face on your hand.

- I'm sorry about last night. - She says embarrassed, looking down.

- No problem. - You say. - But what was that about anyway?

Wanda sighs, running her hands through her hair as she stares at the ceiling, her back on the mattress.

- Vision told me some stupid things, and well, I believed him. - She says and you look at her curiously. With your silence, she clarifies. - It was just some comments he used to make about my body, okay? Things like, people are only interested in me because I'm hot.

You frown, surprised and annoyed. 

- That's bullshit.

Wanda looks at you, surprised that you said something. You look into her eyes as you speak again.

- Your boyfriend is an insecure scumbag who uses your body insecurities against you. It's sick. - You tell her seriously. - You, Wanda Maximoff, are completely passionate for a thousand reasons other than your looks. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

You smile at Wanda's surprised expression, letting your fingers wander across her features. 

- Do you really mean that? - she asks insecurely, and you give her a tender look.

- You're sweet. - You start, letting your fingers caress her cheek. - Smart and sincere. You have this different energy, like you never fit anywhere and you're absolutely magnetic. - You tell her. - And of course, you also laugh at my jokes, which suggests that you are as sarcastic and perceptive as I am. 

Wanda smiles and closes her eyes for a second, and then looks at you with almost guilt.

- Can I ask you a random question?

- Sure.

- If someone needed to apologize to you, what would be the best way?

- This is a very specific question, Wanda. Should I be concerned? - You retort with mild amusement, and Wanda quickly denies it.

- Come on, answer me. - She asks, and you giggle.

- I don't know, Wanda. - You say laughing, and roll your eyes slightly. - I guess it would depend on what the person did. - You explain, and Wanda looks at you with a frown. - What's that face, what would your answer be then?

- Food. - She says and you look at her with confusion. - The person would only have to buy me food and apologize and I would forgive them.

You let out a laugh, and Wanda follows. And then you assume a thoughtful posture.

- Honestly, I don't think if there is a right way. - You tell her. - I would like the person to be honest with me, and explain to me what happened. - You say, and Wanda nods with a serious expression. - That, or a really cheesy apology act.

- What? - Wanda asks with amusement.

- Yes, like in those old movies. - You clarify with a slight laugh. - If someone apologizes in the rain, or with a serenade at my window, I would probably forgive that person for the shame they are going through for me.

You and Wanda laugh and then your alarm clock starts to ring, signaling that it was already time for everyone to get up and go home. You sigh slightly.

As you sit up in bed, throwing your feet out, Wanda hugs your back, surprising you.

- Thank you. - She says against your ear. - Don't give up on me yet, okay?

You frown in confusion, laughing without understanding Wanda's seriousness. You squeeze your hands together, but then she lets go. 

- Is everything all right? - you ask as she turns around on the bed and stands up in front of you. Wanda swallows dryly, nodding. She smiles before she leaves, and you ignore the strange feeling that has settled on the pit of your stomach as you stand up toward the bathroom.

//-//

The way back to your house is strangely silent. It seems that all of Wanda's friends have changed their personalities overnight. Pietro gives you a quick hug across the shoulders as you get out of the car, and Wanda kisses your cheek. Vision doesn't look at you.

You call your friends as soon as you finish packing your things in your room. And everyone is extremely surprised when you share what has happened in the last few days.

When you return to school the next day, you are feeling excited. 

Your first class is Biology, which means that you would have some time alone with Wanda, and while you wait for the starting bell, sitting on the benches outside with your friends, Wanda's group passes you by. 

You frown as you notice Vision with his arm around Wanda, and she quickly looks away when she notices you watching. You clench your jaw at the childish attitude, and then you are getting up and walking toward the table they have chosen.

- Can I talk to you? - You ask the redhead directly, who seems to have trouble keeping her gaze on you. Her friends also look awkward, as if they are almost embarrassed, and none of them look at you for very long. Completely unlike Vision, who has a smug posture and a wry smile.

- Leave my girlfriend alone, freak. - He then says, and you blink in surprise.

- What is your problem? - You retort in irritation and Vision lets out a wry laugh.

- What is your problem? - He repeats, getting up and facing you. You don't hesitate, but you don't understand why everyone just stares at you. - What did you think was going to happen, huh? That you would start hanging out with the cool kids?

You look at him in confusion, and then he crosses his arms.

- I just want to talk to Wanda.

Vision laughed, looking mocking.

- You're so stupid. - He accused and you took a step back. - The bet is off girl, Wanda has nothing to say.

You blink in confusion, and the redhead is getting up, pulling on her boyfriend's forearm, but you look at them feeling your heart racing.

- What are you talking about?

Vision laughs, releasing Wanda's grip. You think she whispered "Please don't," but you are trying to understand what is going on.

- Oh, your dear friend didn't tell you? - he asks debauchedly. - We had a bet. I was sure you'd be completely obsessed with Wanda by the end of the holiday, and look at you! Here you are. I don't blame you though, Wanda is hot.

You choke in surprise, taking another step back. You risk a glance at the rest of the group, and they have their heads down, guilty looks on their faces. And then you look at Wanda, eyes watering as she clenches her fists. Feeling your heart break, and your stomach clench, you nod.

- Y/N, I can explain. - Wanda starts and you laugh, running your hands through your hair.

- I've always defended you. - You say, putting your hands in your pockets. - When people told me you were false and deceitful, I defended you. I really thought you were different from them.

- I....

- I can't believe I trusted you. - You say. - Never speak to me again, Wanda Maximoff.

You turned around walking away, ignoring the times the redhead called your name as you held back your tears. 

//-//

Your mother told the school that you were sick.

That's how you felt anyway.

It had been three days since you had left your room. Bruce, Monica and Natasha were sending you all the school content you were missing, and you struggled to keep your focus on that and not on the heartbreak that seemed to take over your whole body.

The weekend arrived again, and you decided to get some fresh air. You were on your balcony, sipping hot chocolate when Nat came into your yard.

- Hey, stranger. - She greets you with a smile, sitting down on the seat in front of you. You give her a sad smile.

- Hi, Nat. 

- How are you?

You shrug, and she sighs.

- It will pass, I promise. - She says and you drink some of your chocolate. - By the way, I'm suspended.

- What? - You ask in surprise, and she giggles, showing you the bandage on the fingers of her right hand.

- I punched Vision in the nose shortly after you left the cafeteria. - She tells you, and you widen your eyes in surprise. - I didn't say anything before because I didn't want you to feel guilty.

- Nat! - you exclaim, slightly upset, looking at her hand. - You didn't have to do that.

- I know. - she says with a slight laugh. - But you are my friend, and he is an idiot. You're a dork who doesn't have the strength to hurt a fly, but I have a feeling you'd do the same for me.

You laugh, nodding.

- I would probably get beat up in reality.

Nat laughs in agreement.

You are silent for a moment, until Nat speaks again.

- I hate to see you like this. - She comments, and you sigh, leaving the coffee mug on the table. 

- I hate feeling like this too. 

Nat sighs, opening her arms. You accept her invitation to hug her, and sit down next to her on the bench, letting her wrap you in a side hug.

- You'll come out of this, dear. - She starts to say as she strokes your hair. - Next year you'll be in college, with so many people wanting to get into your pants that you won't even remember who Wanda Maximoff was.

You laugh shyly.

- I hope you are right. - You grumble, closing your eyes.

- I always am.

//-//

You go back to school the following week.

Your body always seems to notice that Wanda is in the same room as you, even though she is meters away, but you learn to deal with the feeling.

You talked to the biology teacher on Monday morning. Apparently, the news quickly spread throughout the school, and she did not refuse to change your partner. 

It wasn't an ideal scenario knowing that everyone in the school was feeling sorry for you, but at least you wouldn't have to talk to Wanda in class.

And so two weeks passed.

You were almost getting used to the feeling as you walked towards the main building, after stopping by the library and returning the physics books you were using, when you heard a commotion in the courtyard.

There was already a circle of students around, and you were considering turning around, because fights are not really your thing, but you had a feeling you should check it out. 

As you slipped in among the students, you let out a surprised exclamation.

- Bruce! - You shouted as you threw the bag on the ground and lunged forward, but the boy who was fighting with your friend just turned around when you jumped at him, breaking free of your grip and laughing with irony and anger. He slapped you in the face that drew a surprised chorus from the crowd. You staggered back with the impact, feeling your face burn. But you stepped forward again, but he gave you a hard shove that knocked you to the ground. As you got up to go forward again, someone grabbed you around the waist. - Pietro, let me go! Help him!

You let out another exclamation when the boy punched Bruce in the face, but Pietro pushed you away from the fight, and Steve held you by the arms in the crowd. Pietro lunged at the boy next, while Bruce fell unconscious.

You broke free of Steve's grip and ran to your friend, and then there were teachers all around you, and you were all being led into the principal's office.

The counselor motioned for you to sit in one of the chairs to wait your turn, and you used this moment to send messages to your friends. Monica told you that she heard about the fight, but that she was in the history room when it happened. Natasha didn't answer, and when she appeared in front of you, you frowned.

- Nat, Bruce he...

- I know. - She interrupted seriously with an almost tearful expression. - He was fighting for me.

- For you? What?

Nat shook her head, looking toward the direction door.

- I told him not to get involved, but he is stubborn. - She says and then takes a deep breath. - That boy over there, his name is Clint. He's my ex. He... he hit me.

- Whoa, what?

- I know, it's too much to explain. - She says. - Me and Bruce, we... we've been going out for a few weeks now. And Clint wasn't happy when he found out. I told Bruce not to get involved but…

- Hey, Nat breathes. - You interrupt by seeing her eyes filled with tears. - This is not your fault.

You hug your friend, trying to calm her down. It doesn't take long for Monica to reach you two.

Soon the director calls you to give your side of the story, and you just tell him that you arrived in the middle of the fight. As you leave, the principal asks you to go to the infirmary and only then you remember that you were beaten.

You give up the idea of getting a bandage when you find Pietro and the group of friends, including Wanda, in the infirmary, but as soon as the nurse lays eyes on you, she pulls you in, sitting you down on one of the free beds.

She starts grumbling that the students have decided to behave like savages as she rushes over with the first aid kits to attend to all the students who were in the infirmary. You don't quite understand what happened, but it seemed that some kids had made a mess in the pesticide gardening class, so there were several students with red spots on their arms complaining of pain.

- It's okay, I can do it. - You tell the nurse as soon as she approaches you with the first aid kit. She looks at you suspiciously, but then a student at your back lets out a complaint and she sighs, handing the items to you as she leaves. You get up to look in the small mirror on the edge of the bed. There is a small cut on your cheek. That guy really hit hard.

While you were preparing the alcohol swab, Wanda walked over to you. You stared at her reflection in the mirror.

- I can help you with this. - She said about the bandage.

- I don't need your help. - You retorted harshly. Wanda looked at the floor. 

- I am sorry. 

You blinked in surprise, and turned away in irritation.

- No.  - You warned, and Wanda swallowed hard.  She looked at you, ready to start talking again, but then you shook your head. - Don't you dare.

- Please…

But you left right away, bumping into her shoulder.

Almost four weeks, and your chest still hurts just the same. 

You think the nurse has called you, but you keep walking towards the exit. 

When you reached the outer courtyard, you collapsed. 

Sitting on the floor, and trying to control your breathing and your crying, you were startled when someone touched your shoulders. Monica didn't ask questions, she just hugged you.

- I can't do it, Mon. - You said between sobs. - I love her so much it feels like I'm going to suffocate.

- Shh, it's okay. - Monica tried to calm you down as she ran her hands down your back.

- Why can't I move on? She hurt me, why can't I stop loving her? - you asked in desperation. Monica just kept calming you. 

- I know it feels like the end of the world now. - Monica says. - But I promise it will pass.

You cried for a few more minutes, trying to push or smother the pain away. It wasn't fair the way Wanda had your broken heart in her hand.

//-//

Bruce did not suffer any serious injuries.

You visited him in the infirmary as soon as he was released from the principal's office. He was worried about your swollen crying eyes, but you assured him that everything was fine.

And then he told you that he was in love with Natasha, and that Clint had been expelled. You shook his hand, saying that everything would be all right now. Soon Nat was in the room with you, hugging Bruce, while you went out with Monica to get something to eat.

The week passed quietly after this. 

Your friends started the "Moving on squad", and they did everything to keep you distracted and well cared for. It was sweet and caring, and it was enough to keep your feelings well under control.

A few days after that mess, you needed to buy tomato sauce for your mother and found Pietro Maximoff in the supermarket checkout line.

- Hey. - He greeted you politely. You felt your heart race at the possibility that he was with his sister. 

- Hi, Pietro. - You answered in the same tone.

You were checking around for signs of the redhead, but Pietro was alone. He said something about the prices, and you just grumbled in agreement, and then it was your turn.

In the parking lot, while you were unlocking your bike, he approached you again.

- I want to apologize to you. - He announced as he approached, and you let out a sigh.

- Look Pietro...

- No. - He interrupts with a quick smile. - I meant it. I'm really sorry. You're a nice girl, and we were idiots. 

You stare at him for a moment, then go back to picking the lock.

- Is that all?

- Yes. - He confirms with a wry smile. But when he turns around, you call out to him.

- I... Thank you for that day. - You say. - You pulled me out of the fight. I probably would have got hurt if... what I mean is... 

- It's all right.- He interrupts with a smile. - It was nothing. 

You nodded and he smiled, turning again and walking away. You finished unlocking the lock and got on your bike.

//-//

The next week you were surprised to find a box of chocolate in your closet.

Nat exchanged a mischievous look with you, and you rolled your eyes absentmindedly, opening the package. It didn't have a name on it, and only said "you are cute". 

- I can't believe you have a secret admirer. - Monica commented excitedly when you told her during lunch. Bruce and Natasha were sitting next to you, laughing lightly as they talked among themselves.

- Neither do I. - You comment with humor. - But the chocolates were good at least.

- I think it’s sweet. - She comments with a smile, and you shrug, blushing.

- It's weird. - You say with a slight laugh, and Monica squeezes your red cheeks lightly, saying that you're adorable, making you laugh. - Damn, I'm terrible at these things.

You start talking about the upcoming exams after that, and then the break ends.

It is in the last period of PE that you speak with Pietro again several days after you saw him last.

- Hey. - He greets you with an excited nod. You smile politely as you tie your shoelaces. 

- Hi. - You say as he joins you.

- Are you going to the game on Saturday? - he asks, causing you to frown. 

- I'm not...

- My god this guy never gives up. - He interrupts with a scowl, looking at something behind you. You turn your head to see what it is, and notice Vision talking to Wanda several feet ahead, near the bleachers. The redhead looks impatient, and you feel your heart ache just by looking directly at her. Shifting your gaze back to Pietro, you notice that he is still grimacing. - They've been broken up for over a month and he still keeps insisting.

You blink in surprise and Pietro looks back at you.

- They broke up?

- I thought you knew. - He quips, slightly surprised, and then shrugs his shoulders. - They broke up that day in the yard. Wanda slapped him in the face in front of the whole school, everyone talked about it for weeks.

- I'm not really into school gossip. - You comment and Pietro laughs.

- Of course not.

You stand up next, your gaze quickly shifting to Wanda, but you disguise it by looking at Pietro, who has an expectant expression on his face. Then you remember the question and let out an exclamation, running your hands through your hair.

- I'm not into sports, Pietro. - You tell him and he nods in understanding, looking upset. - But I like the food. And Natasha loves the games, so maybe I'll show up with my friends there.

Pietro lets out an excited exclamation, and gives you a pat on the shoulder, saying he hopes you can make it, before heading out onto the court. 

You ignore the nervous feeling in your stomach when your gaze meets Wanda's on the other side of the court, and you quickly turn away, starting to do your exercises for class.

//-//

You were slightly surprised by Natasha's outfit. She was covered head to toe in school colors, down to a commemorative hat and matching socks. You looked at her with a raised eyebrow, but she just smiled as she pulled you by the hand to Monica's truck.

- How is the story about the secret admirer going? - Nat asked as you sat in the back seat, and Monica drove to school and Bruce fiddled with the radio.

- I received flowers on Wednesday. - You tell with a smile. - And a collection of special gift vouchers.

- What are these? - She asked curiously, and Monica laughed lightly as you felt your cheeks flush.

- It's a special kind of ... eh ... vouchers for hugs, kisses, that sort of thing. - You mumbled clumsily and Natasha laughed.

- My goodness, look at your face! - She laughed. - You are loving how corny this is.

You grumbled with a hot face, turning your gaze to the window. Bruce chose a very good song next, and your friends started singing along. It didn't take long before you joined them.

//-//

The school stadium was quite crowded. Senior year games always had scouts from universities, so you weren't surprised by family members, and well-dressed strangers in the stands, as well as faculty. 

- Wow, Mom is going to have fun today. - Monica commented as two you walked to the bleachers. She was looking at her cell phone, and showed you a picture of two glasses of wine that Maria had sent her. - She has a date.

- Have you met them? - you asked curiously, and Monica made a noise with her mouth of agreement.

- She's from the Air Force. Very pretty and fun, and she treated me very well. - She told you with a smile. - I hope everything works out between them, Mom deserves to be happy.

You nod in agreement and then you find empty chairs. Bruce and Natasha join you many moments later, carrying the food. 

- Yay, fries. - Monica says excitedly as Natasha distributes the food among you.

The band then enters the stadium. And the crowd seems excited, you and Monica laugh at Natasha's excitement.

As soon as the band makes their formation, the cheerleaders enter the field and the crowd cheers. You try not to look at Wanda so immediately, but that is exactly what you do. When they are all in the center, and finish the performance with lots of applause, the director gets up on the stage and starts announcing the game.

- And without further ado, West View High let's...

The principal is interrupted abruptly by one of the students. You and the audience watch intently as Pepper nudges the principal on the shoulder, and he turns around confused and surprised. She smiles innocently as she quickly takes the microphone from his hand.

- We had a slight change of plans, West View. - she announces, smiling. And then the band is moving on, and you recognize the music quickly. It was an old rock song. The audience sings along excitedly, surprised and in shock, but still happy with the music. 

As the music plays, Pepper turns back to the director, and they discuss something. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, and she gives an excited little jump, and then is joining the cheering team again.

When the song ends, it is not Pepper who comes up to the podium with the microphone, but Wanda, which generates a lot of comments from the audience.

- Is that? - Natasha starts and you feel your stomach turn.

- Yep.

- Hello West View. - Wanda begins looking nervous, the audience looks at her in anticipation. - Many of you must think me a complete bitch after the rumors that surfaced a few weeks ago.

- Oh my God. - You mumble clumsily, feeling the stares of some people on you. 

- I think I should explain what happened. - Wanda says tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and ignoring the comments from the audience, she continues talking. - My ex-boyfriend and my best friends decided to make a bet. - She explains, and you clench your jaw. - He bet my friends that if I gave even the slightest bit of attention to our colleague, Y/N Y/L/N, she would become obsessed with me in one weekend. - The audience seems shocked by the confessions, but Wanda was looking at you. - The funny thing is, it was the exact opposite. Y/N is this amazing girl, sweet and caring, and I can't stop thinking about her. It must be because I am completely in love with her. - She confessed, and you felt your eyes fill with tears. - But I blew it. I was mean and cruel, and I'm sorry. I'm here to apologize to you Y/N, and you don't even have to forgive me. I just wanted you to know.

The audience erupted in murmurs at the confession, and you were in shock to react. Wanda was also teary-eyed. 

A mixture of "forgive her" and " start the game" and various other comments began to grow louder, and then Director Fury was approaching Wanda, and asking for the microphone back. She took one last look at you, before bowing her head and walking off the field. The audience let out a mixed chorus of celebration and sadness, and then Monica was pushing you slightly, and you waved frantically as you hurried to catch up to Wanda.

- I can't believe you did that! - You shout at her as soon as you reach her in the gymnasium hallway, the noise of the game starting muffled by the distance.

Wanda turns around in surprise, wiping away tears.

- I just...

- When I said the perfect apology would be like a cliché, I can't believe you took it seriously. - You comment as you approach laughing lightly. Wanda looks surprised at your friendly posture. - You are such a dork.

And then you kiss her as you bring your hands to her waist, and she sighs in astonishment, but responds the next second, trembling as your tongues touch. 

You push her against the wall of the hallway, and she slips her arms around your shoulders, melting into the kiss. You separate your mouths for breath.

- I'm sorry. - She asks again with her eyes closed. - I'm really sorry.

- I know. - You agree breathlessly. - Just... don't ever do anything like that again. 

She nods in agreement, kissing you again. It's delicious the way your tongues feel together, making your head spin. You are blushing because Wanda is sighing and making a warm tightness rise in the pit of your stomach.

- I love you too, Wands. - You confess against her lips and she opens her eyes in surprise, you look at her with a smile. - I guess ever since you laughed at my joke in biology class.

Wanda lets out a short laugh, her eyes sparkling with joy.

- I love you. - She answers by kissing you quickly. - I love you. - She repeats and starts depositing kisses all over your face, making you laugh. She repeats and repeats until you kiss her again, intensely this time.

You stay like this for several minutes. Exchanging not-so-innocent kisses against the gymnasium wall. Until the first half of the game is over, and you hear the sound of the players returning to the locker room, and then Pietro is reaching for you, making a false threatening posture when he notices your swollen lips, and Wanda's lipstick on your face.

- Please get a room. - He then jokes, continuing on his way to the locker room. 

You and Wanda agree to leave the stadium, wanting to enjoy some time together without the stares of the audience on you.

You two end up in the back of Monica's truck, staring up at the stars, your hands entwined.

- So it was you who sent the presents. - You conclude by looking at Wanda quickly, to catch her blushing cheeks.

- I was trying to find a way to talk to you. - She explained, turning to you, releasing her hand only to stroke your cheek. - That's why I made the voucher “worth a conversation”.

You laughed lightly, looking at her fondly.

- I liked the kiss coupon. - You say with amusement and she raises her eyebrow, smiling. 

- Yeah? - She replies, bringing your faces together and stealing a lingering kiss from you.

- Best one.

Wanda laughs, pulling away a little. You swallow dryly, watching her carefully. 

- What happens now? - you ask, and Wanda looks into your eyes.

- I don't know. - She says. - But I hope we'll be together in the end.

You smile, nodding. 

- We will. - You assure her before adjusting your position to embrace her. Wanda snuggles against you, enjoying your warmth.

#wanda maximoff #wanda #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x reader #wandaxreader #wandaxyou #wandamaximoff x reader #wandamaximoffxreader #wanda maximoffxreader #marvel imagines #high school au

[rowyn-writes]

A Mother's Love (Dean x Wife!Reader)

Warnings: Language, fluff, major angst, implications of divorce, arguing, Dean being mean to Jack

Pairings: Dean x Wife!Reader

Characters: Dean, Jack, Sam, Reader, Cas (mentioned only)

Word count: 2.7k

You threw your bag down as you entered the bunker, exhausted from your last hunt. This was one of the rare cases where you worked alone.

Sometimes you needed the time to yourself, away from all the men. Sometimes you would go hunting with Jody and Claire, but even then, those two argued like cats and dogs.

"Y/N," Jack smiled as you entered the kitchen. "How was the hunt?"

"It was pretty good, actually." You grinned as you sat across from him. "I was chasing down this werewolf in Tennessee, and it was really strange. He'd kill one person, turn the next, and repeat that cycle."

"That's. . . Weird." He furrowed his eyebrows.

"That's what I said. Well," You continued on with the story of your hunt, watching as Jack's eyes widened in amazement and awe.

"Y/N?" Dean called your name, entering the kitchen. "Hey, sweetheart. I didn't know you were home?"

You stood up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Sorry, babe. I got sidetracked. I was just telling Jack about my trip." You smiled, looking over at the boy. You were concerned, as the smile fell from his face and he looked away from you and Dean. "You okay, kid?"

"Yeah," He nodded, not meeting your eye. "I'll give you two some space." He mumbled as he walked out of the kitchen.

"Does he seem off to you?" You asked Dean.

"Nah, he acts like he usually does. Squirrelly and weird."

"Says the squirrel himself." You rolled your eyes. "Did something happen while I was gone?"

Dean said nothing as he looked down, an obvious indicator that he was guilty of something. "Dean," You growled lowly. "Did you say something to Jack? Something that would upset him somehow?"

When Dean didn't give you an answer, you shook your head as you follow Jack to his room.

"Jack." You called out. He seemed to be lost in thought, as he didn't react to your words. "Jack!" You said louder, causing him to turn around. There was a tiny amount of fear in his eyes. If you didn't know him, it wouldn't have affected you.

"What's wrong?" You asked softly, resting your hand on his shoulder.

"Nothing." He spoke. "Why would anything be wrong?"

"Jack, I saw how you reacted when Dean came in. You looked like a kicked puppy. Don't tell me it's nothing, kiddo."

In the time you had known Jack, you had grown to care for him deeply. You had always wanted kids, but in this life, it wasn't possible. Well, it was, but you knew you didn't want your children to do what you do. So when Jack was born, you felt extremely happy because it felt like you finally had a child. Albeit, he did look twenty.

"Dean doesn't like me very much." He admitted.

"I'm sure that's not true. . ." You argued weakly. In all honesty, you didn't think Dean liked Jack either. It's not like he was abusive, but he did treat him differently than everyone else.

"But it is, Y/N."

"How do you know, Jack? With Dean, it takes him time to warm up to people. It took him months to actually trust me. He's a cautious person."

"Did he threaten you too?" Jack asked, genuinely curious. His head was tilted to the side, his honey blonde hair falling into his eyes. He had gotten that head tilt from Cas.

"Dean. . . Threatened you?" You whispered hoarsely.

"Yes," He nodded. "He told me if I hurt you or Sam, or anyone, that he would be the one to hunt me down and kill me."

Your mouth popped open in horror. You could never imagine your sweet, loveable, goofy Dean threatening Jack. "What else did he say, Jack? Did he say anything prior to this?"

"He said that he doesn't think that I can be saved. He said that even though you and Sam think that I can, that he doesn't."

"Jack, you don't need to be saved. There is no saving to do. You are a good kid. You would never do anything to intentionally hurt anyone. I'm so sorry. I should have been there." You sigh.

"He's not wrong, Y/N. I can't be saved. What if I turn out like my father, my real father."

You frowned as you cupped his face in your hands. "Jack, you are nothing, and I mean nothing, like Lucifer. You are just like your mother. You are sweet, caring, and you are empathetic. Just like Kelly."

"You really believe that?" He whispered, tears forming in his eyes.

"No, I don't believe it, Jack. I know it. You are nothing like Lucifer. If anything, you are much more like Castiel."

"Really?" He smiled.

"Yeah," You nodded. "You see, I don't know if you know this, but Cas does this little thing where he tilts his head to the side if he doesn't understand something or if he's perplexed. And I noticed that you do the same thing." Jack's smile widened as you removed your hands from his face. "And neither of you have any knowledge of pop culture. Even though Cas was here for a lot longer than you, he never understood a single reference any of us made. Even if it was something like Scooby Doo." You giggled, feeling your throat tightening at the thought of your dead friend. "And you two state the obvious a lot. Not in a bad way, more in a comedic way. It lightens the mood nearly every time. Cas would rarely smile. When I asked him why, he would say that the world was going to hell and he didn't have anything to smile about. But when he did smile, it would make everyone else smile with him. The same goes for you. Just seeing that little toothy grin of yours makes me smile. I mean hell, you two even look a lot alike."

"Could you tell me more about him?" Jack asked.

"Of course, but I have something to take care of first. Then you and I will cuddle up and watch a movie and I'll tell you everything you want to know about Cas, okay?"

"Yeah, I'd like that." He spoke. "Before you go, could I ask you something?" You nodded. "If I were to have a mother figure, and I called her mom, do you think my mother would be upset?"

"No, sweetheart, I don't think she would be upset. I think that she would be happy that there's someone down here taking care of you and you feel comfortable enough to call them mom." You said, completely oblivious as to what Jack was suggesting.

"Then. . . Could I call you mom?"

You felt the air leave your lungs as his words hit you like a truck. Jack watched as tears welled up in your eyes. Jack was horrified; he had never meant to make you cry. "Yo-you want to call me m-mom?" You stammer.

"If you're not comfortable with it I understand. I'm sorry, Y/N, I-"

You cut him off with a tight embrace. "Of course you can call me mom." You whisper, squeezing the boy tightly.

"Why are you crying?" He questioned.

"These are happy tears, Jack. I'm not upset. It's just. . . I never thought that I would have children, but then you came along, and you gave me what I wanted. You gave me a chance to be a mother."

"Thank you for being here for me, mom."

You gave Jack a huge smile as you pulled away. "Okay," You said, putting a hand on his arm. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to deal with my ass of a husband."

---

"Dean Winchester," You boomed, roaming around the bunker in search for your husband.

"Ooooh, you're in trouble." You hear Sam snicker.

"But I didn't do anything. Wait, what day is it?" Dean asked frantically.

"April ninth." Sam quipped.

"Okay, no birthday, no anniversary, so there's that."

You entered The Dean Cave, as Dean called it, seeing red. "What the hell, Winchester." You growled. "Sam, out. Now."

"You don't have to tell me twice." Sam said, grabbing his bowl of popcorn and walking out of the room.

"Yes, darling, sweetheart, love of my life. What can I do for you?" Dean spoke sweetly, giving you those stupid, green doe eyes.

"Jack told me." You said simply. "He told me what you said to him. That if it comes down to killing him, that you would be the one to do it. That there was no saving him."

"Y/N, you have to understand where I'm coming from." He tried to reason with you. "You should have seen him. He was stabbing himself with a knife! And it closed up like it was nothing! It's not  normal. He's not normal."

"And?! None of us are normal, Dean. We've all died and came back to life. Sam didn't have a soul, he was hooked on demon blood, yet you were still there for him. You still believed in him. You died and became a demon, you bore the Mark of Cain and had a thing for God's friggin sister! And I still loved you through it. I have been brainwashed and manipulated into hurting all of you, and you still forgave me! Cas betrayed us, and we were still there for him. None of us are fucking normal! So what the hell, Dean? You're holding a grudge against Jack just because of who his dad is?"

"His father is Lucifer, Y/N!"

"Well that's stating the goddamn obvious!" You yelled.

"He could turn on us at any moment! We don't know this kid. We don't know what he can do."

"So we learn, Dean! We should help him figure out his way. Guide him in the right direction. Show him what a true, loving family looks like!"

"We are not his family, Y/N! And he's not our family. He never will be." Dean argued.

You flinched back, glaring at Dean. "How dare you! You son of a bitch! Whether you believe it or not, Jack is family. To me and to Sam. We care about him and love him!"

"He doesn't even know what love means!"

"Yes, he does! Because he feels things, Dean. He cares. He cares about all of us, including you. You know, he asked me if he could call me mom today. Did you know that? He trusts me and cares for me so much that he sees me as a mother figure."

"He's got you brainwashed, Y/N! Can't you see that?!"

"If he looked like his actual age, would you be acting like this?"

"What kind of question is that." He scoffed.

"If Jack looked four months old instead of twenty, would you still be treating him like this?" You asked steadily. Dean remained silent. "See! He is four months old, no matter how old he looks, he's still a baby."

"So, what, you want me to change his diaper or some shit?"

"No! I want you to treat him like a human being!" You yelled.

"But he's not human!"

You and Dean stood your ground, neither of you letting up. "Fine. I'm leaving then. And I'm taking Jack with me."

"No, you're not."

"Fucking watch me, Dean. I can't even look at you right now. Because you are not the man I married. That man was compassionate and caring. This one isn't. And until he comes back, I'm staying away." You cried.

Before Dean could get another word out, you left the den. You noticed that Sam was standing in the hallway, giving you a saddened look. "You're really leaving?"

"I'm sorry, Sam." You sobbed. "But I can't be around him right now. And I don't think Jack should be either. We're going to my parents house for a while. And until he gets his shit together, I'm not coming back.

"I know. I don't understand why Dean is acting like this." He mumbled.

"I don't either. It's so unlike him." You agreed.

"So what are you going to tell Jack?"

"Just that we're going to take a little road trip and visit my parents. I don't know, Sam, this whole thing is so strange to me. But I know have to go."

Sam frowned as he pulled you into a hug. "I'm really going to miss you. But you do what you need to do. And if you ever need anything, you call me, okay? I don't care what time of day it is, call me."

"I will." You squeeze Sam tightly. "Thank you for being an amazing brother and best friend." You pulled away, teary eyed as you parted from your brother in law. "I hope to be back soon."

You softly knocked on Jack's door before entering. "Hey, Jack." You smiled.

"Mom!" He said excitedly. "Are we going to watch movies now?"

"Actually, there's been a change of plans. Me and you are going on a road trip to visit my parents."

"Really? Are Sam and Dean coming with us?"

You swallowed hard, a lump forming in your throat. "No, actually. This is a trip just for us. Sam and Dean wanted to stay here just in case they find a case or something that can get Mary back from apocalypse world. So I'm going to help you pack and then we can get on the road."

---

You had sent Jack to your car, having him put everything in the trunk while you finished up things in the bunker. The last thing you grabbed was a machete that belonged to your father before he gave it to you.

"Don't go." A voice whispered. You turned to see Dean, who looked like he had been crying. "Please don't leave."

You swallowed hard, feeling tears rush to your eyes once more. "Will you accept Jack as family?"

"Y/N-" Dean said, exasperated. "He can stayed here but he's not family."

"That's not good enough, Dean. Because I know how you act around people you don't trust."

"You can't force me to trust him." Dean scoffed.

"That's not what I want. I want you to get to know him. I want you to try."

"Y/N. . . I just. . . I can't."

"I think. . . I think we need time apart." You mumbled.

"Y/N, please –"

"Only for a little bit." You assured him. "They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all." You gave him a sad smile, trying to control your tears.

You turned to leave before Dean's voice stopped you. "If you leave, then we're over. That's it. Don't bother coming home."

You sighed as you looked back at Dean. You cupped his face in your hands and gave him a slow, sensual kiss. You could feel salty tears on your lips as you memorized how Dean's mouth felt against yours. It was warm and soft. You could taste the remnants whiskey on his breath.

You pulled away slightly, resting your forehead on Dean's. You felt tears streaming down your face as you looked the man you had grown to love over the past ten years. You had been through hell and back, literally. You had lost each other, fell out of love and back in love.

"This isn't goodbye, Dean." You whimpered. "I swear it isn't. I love you with every part of my soul. I'm not choosing Jack over you, okay? I just need time. I need you to wait for me."

"That's all I've ever done, Y/N." Dean shook his head. "I waited on you when you were in relationships, when you were heartbroken, when your sister died, I waited on you to love me back. I'm tired of waiting. I will always love you, and you'll always be with me. You've changed me, and I'm so thankful for it. You've made me a better man. But I can't. . . I can't keep doing this, Y/N." He whispered as he slipped off his wedding band. "This is goodbye." He set the ring in your hand, curling your fingers around it. "Goodbye, sweetheart." He gave you one final kiss. But this one was rough and full of passion. It really was goodbye.

"Dean, please." You cried. He pressed a swift kiss to the crown of your head before leaving you standing alone in the library. Sobs racked through your body as you clutched Dean's ring to your chest. "Please come back." You whispered.

You wiped your face of tears and stuck Dean's ring in your pocket. There would be time for tears later. Right now you just needed to get out of the bunker. As you looked around the library, you realized you had never felt this alone.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x wife!reader #supernatural #supernatural fluff #supernatural angst #jack kline #sam winchester #castiel #season 12 #dean winchester angst

[ourloveisforthelovely]

In Love and Death. Part 1

Harry Potter AU (request fic)

Summary: (set during current time) Regulus Black has made a lot of mistakes. Now he has a chance to fix the mistakes or possibly make them worse.

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: M- later chapters

Song at the beginning: Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood

_____

She knows what I think about and what I think about...one love, two mouths, one love, one house. No shirt, no blouse. Just us, you find out...

“I’m going to hell.”

It was the thought going through Regulus’ head as he looked down at your sleeping form.

“I’m going to hell and Evan is going to kick my ass from one side of the place to another but she’s worth it...always will be worth it.”

Regulus turned on his back and slammed his head down on the pillow. His life was one series of failures after another. After drowning and staying dead for a while, Regulus woke up at the bottom of the cave’s lake surrounded by actually dead inferi. As he kicked to the surface the best thing that Regulus could put together was the potion didn’t let him be fully drowned or Voldemort was really losing his touch.

Things were, even more, confusing the first time that Regulus looked at himself. He hadn’t changed. The boy looking back in the mirror was the same boy that Regulus was when he had gone to that cave in the first place.

Dead things don’t age.

His mind had supplied. Confusing was the best way to describe everything. Waking up in a different generation, finding out Sirius had gone to prison and was now on the run, and realizing the secret that he “died for” was out...Regulus had to sit quietly and take everything in. It took Sirius and Remus talking to him numerous times to get Regulus to actually speak again.

That is where you came in and shook his fucked up world some more. You were an auror and a young one at that. Before you walked into Grimmauld Place and made Regulus feel like he had been slapped on the back of the head with a book, he never had any interest in falling in love. It was too risky and he didn’t have the time nor the drive for it. Now some girl with sandy hair and bright blue eyes was making him reconsider everything that he felt about relations and Regulus had no clue who you were.

It wasn’t until Sirius introduced the two of you after seeing his brother’s expression did Regulus realize how fucked he was…Evan Rosier’s daughter...you were his fucking best friend’s daughter that had clearly grown up in the time that Regulus was dead.

Regulus had to quickly look away in order to chastise himself for even looking at you that way. It didn’t matter that you were an adult (and a very attractive adult at that). Regulus was there when you were born. Hell, he had been there when Evan turned up at Grimmauld Place the summer before 7th year freaking out because his girlfriend was pregnant. It had taken Regulus all that he had to not tell Evan that he was a fucking fool when the other boy made the comment that he was told that Emma wouldn’t get pregnant if she jumped up and down after sex. Regulus had sat there staring at Evan the whole time with a frown.

“Jumping up and down? What? Where do you get your facts? My mother, as prudish as she is, at least gave me a pamphlet on what happens. I told you not to listen to the Carrow twins!”

Regulus had to shake the thoughts from his mind as he took in your confused expression. The moment that you spoke for the first time, Regulus again felt like he had been whacked with a book.

“Sirius, I thought that you said your brother was dead?”

Sirius nodded then shrugged.

“Yes but apparently he’s not. It's kind of confusing.”

“So Supernatural dead?”

“Excuse me, but what is Supernatural and just what does this have to do with me?”

Regulus had finally started to become annoyed with wondering what the two of you were talking about. It was Sirius that had to give him the update on “pop culture.”

The next few weeks led to Regulus falling further and further in love with you. Whether it was wrong or not, he couldn’t help it.

“She won’t want me. I’m a former dark wizard. She’s an auror. What kind of fucked up joke would that be?”

Others in the Order, particularly Alastor Moody, took great pride in watching every move that Regulus made around you. Moody was not about to let one of the girls that he cared about could be harmed by someone that was on his “list” once upon a time. It didn’t matter to Moody that “to the world,” Regulus and yourself would physically make a cute couple. To someone looking in, they would assume Regulus was just some 18-year-old kid and would have a decent shot with you.

“It's best you stay away from Y/n. You are old enough to be her father. I don’t care how young you look or if you have been taking a years-long siesta...you’re a death eater and that’s what you’ll always be in my eyes. Y/n has dealt with a lot in her life. Her family has abandoned her. She doesn’t need some guy who has affiliations with those people.”

Regulus still scowled at Moody’s comment. It didn’t matter to the auror that Regulus actually provided proof that he “wasn’t bad.” To Moody, that dark mark on Regulus’ arm would always be damning evidence that he couldn’t be trusted.

To Moody’s displeasure, you agreed to go with Regulus on a several months mission to Greece. Regulus had to fight back a fit of laughter as Moody threw a fit like an overgrown child about it. It wasn’t until you came into the conversation did the elder auror cool his heels down.

All of the previous events led up to Regulus’ current situation. The two of you had been in Greece for a few days spying on what looked like was the Carrows. It was day three when you kissed him for the first time. The memory would be forever ingrained into his memory….

Regulus stood looking over the edge of the hotel balcony. After another day of watching his former friends wander around like blind idiots, Regulus was exhausted. He wasn’t a “sit back and watch” type. He would much rather just go and hex the hell out of the Carrow twins then ask for forgiveness later. The sensible side of his head, however, told him to cool his heels and calm the fuck down. If he wanted any hope of clearing his name and showing that he wasn’t a monster; going against what the Order wanted was no way to do it.

“Regulus?”

He turned at the sound of your voice calling his name. You stepped out onto the balcony with him.

“Have they done anything new?”

Regulus shook his head.

“I think Amycus will need a new liver soon. I have never seen someone drink so much.”

You laughed at the comment as you began to watch Amycus practically snog the bottle of fire whiskey. Regulus, meanwhile, kept his eyes on you. It was wrong to be looking at you like this. He bloody held you as a newborn; now he was drooling over you.

You reminded Regulus of Evan. There was the same serious expression that Evan wore 95% of the time along with his physical looks. Regulus was thankful, however, that you were nothing like the Rosier family. You were spunky and had an amusing sense of humor.

After a few moments, you turned back to the man at your side.

“Can I ask you something?”

Regulus nodded. He was trying to keep himself as closed off as possible to you. Maybe if he acted as if he wasn’t interested then you would believe him.

“Yes?”

“Don’t get mad.”

You said before standing on your tiptoes and pressing a kiss to his lips.

After that, he was hooked. You didn’t kiss him again for another two days. In fact, it was Regulus that made the next move. He had spent enough time in his head going batty until he had to touch you again. To his pleasure, you didn’t fight back.

“I’m too old for you.”

Regulus mumbled between kisses. Your fingers were locked into his hair making sure that he wasn’t about to get a clean getaway.

“No one would know. We look that same age.”

“This is really fucked up. You know what I am…”

Your hand was on his lips silencing any further comment.

“What you were. Not now. I don’t care what our friends say. My family...I’m a blood traitor to them so they aren’t shocked by anything that I do anymore.”

Your moving pulled Regulus from his thoughts. He quickly closed his eyes hoping that you would think that he was still sleeping and not worrying about what was going on in his head.

“I know you're awake.”

You said with a grin. Regulus’ sighed as you wiggled your way on top of him. His grey eyes rolled up to your bright blue ones. You were used to the serious expression on his face. It was rare when you got a smile from him.

“Beautiful boy.”

You said with a smile. Regulus reached up and grabbed your hand. He gave you a raised eyebrow before bringing your hand to his lips.

“You spoil me.”

This was how the two of you had spent most mornings. The Carrows didn’t come out until typically late in the evening so that left Regulus and yourself with free time during the day.

“As I should.”

You replied, stroking your hands through his messy hair. Although neither of you had said “I love you” yet, you knew that you were in love with Regulus. This was the first time that you had felt that emotion in your life. You credited this to your parents. More like your mother, Emma. She never told you one time that she loved you or made you feel loved. You assumed that she just went crazy after your father died.

Regulus was in the same boat. He didn’t talk about his parents much. In fact, he didn’t want to talk about his childhood ever. What you knew about his childhood, you had learned from Sirius. At first, you didn’t think that Regulus would want anything to do with you. That quickly changed, however, when he realized how nice it was to have someone want him. He was as touch starved as you were! It was rather amusing how you had gone from being a girl who “didn’t need a man” to a girl who bent over backward to please the man that you were falling in love with.

You already knew that your friends wouldn’t be thrilled with the relationship. Tonks had already sent a text asking if something was going on with Regulus. You simply brushed off the question with some witty humor (but you knew Tonks wouldn’t be so easily thrown off).

“Y/n, please. The two of you have nothing in common. He’s dangerous and I think that you know it. An auror dating a former death eater isn’t a good look no matter what Regulus can do to prove his innocence. I just care about you. If Regulus can come back from the dead what’s not saying your father won’t?”

It didn’t matter how many times you told Tonks that Regulus’ waking up was most likely due to Voldemort. Your father was killed by Moody. If he came back from the dead then there was definitely some weird shit going on.

“We have to go back tomorrow.”

Regulus’ calm tone pulled you from your thoughts. He quickly pulled you back down into the bed beside him. You settled yourself against his chest as Regulus reached up to gently stroke your hair.

“I know. I’ve been dreading it.”

Regulus was quiet for a few moments.

“So do we break up and act as if nothing happened between us or are we going to go in and be ready to fight?”

Your head snapped up.

“I don’t want to break up. I want to be with you.”

The question broke your heart. You wished that things could be as easy as they appeared. To others in this hotel, Regulus and yourself looked like innocent teenagers out on a holiday. They didn’t know the “truth” but your friends would know.

Regulus took his place on top of you. His left hand had gone back to your face. Your eyes fluttered to the dark mark on his arm. Maybe you were being childish but you didn’t care about that brand on your lover’s body. He was a different man now.

“I want to be with you too. I don’t care what our so-called friends have to say. It's not going to be easy and I think you are a smart enough girl to know that.”

Regulus was relieved when you pulled him down for a kiss.

“I’ve faced a lot of bad things in my past. I’m not scared of making my friends mad. They’ll either accept it or we can go out on our own.”

Regulus sat up. Going off on your own would be a lot easier said than done. There would be no way in hell that Alastor Moody was about to let one of his aurors go off with a death eater. Alastor Moody would track Regulus down like a dog and take you away.

You were on your knees behind him in an instant. Pushing a chunk of his curls away from his face, you pressed kisses to his jawline.

“You know that is a lot easier said than done. If we go off on our own...find our own little place...it's not going to look good on your job being married to a death eater. We’ve had this conversation before, Y/n.”

Regulus stated, calmly. He could tell that you were beginning to get frustrated the moment that you pulled away from him.

“Yes, we have. No one has to know what you were. You keep your arm covered up. Besides, there are a lot of former death eaters running around just fine. Take a look at Lucius Malfoy, for example.”

Regulus rolled his eyes again.

“Yes, love, I know. Lucius Malfoy is the scary mother fucker that gets away with everything. I don’t think that I am going to be that lucky.”

You got out of bed and slipped the lace nightie that you were wearing off.

“We shouldn’t worry about things that haven’t even happened yet. Come join me in the shower.”

_______

@fairywriter-oracle

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#Regulus Black #Regulus Black x Reader #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #nymphadora tonks #tonks x remus #timothee chalamet as regulus black #regulus x reader #regulus black fics #harry potter au #the ancient and noble house of black #evan rosier #the rosier family #mad eye moody #the order of the phoenix #former death eater regulus #In Love and Death #In Love and Death Story

[gwoongi]

dancer in the dark (pt. 1)

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: rockstar/pop-punk au, smut, angst & fluff rating: explicit words: 33k warnings: slowburn, explicit sexual themes, alcohol use, recreational rockstar drug use, smoking, adult language, dark themes including negative side-effects of drug use and drinking including intoxication & irrational behaviour, dry humping, mental health struggle, koo has an australian accent, unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism, if things feel good in this fic then wait 4 part two to ruin everything a/n: ok.....hear me out......guk as a lead singer of an alternative-punk-rock band....and he looks like this......and this….. AND THIS………and his band r basically chase atlantic......Ok ur welcome & pls give this fic a chance!!!!!!!!!! i luv it a lot and its probs my fav so far ˭̡̞(◞⁎˃ᆺ˂)◞*✰ def a long one so get ur tea and blankets and buckle up! notes: have it. this has been in my drafts since like july. just take it and smile.

dedicated to @httpjeon, who force fed me pictures of rocker jeongguk and repeatedly kept me sane + motivated. thank u sm 

Money can’t buy you happiness. Jeongguk, for the longest time, thinks he’s happy. Truthfully, Jeongguk doesn’t know what happiness is until you find him.

BIRTH OF DEVILS. (LONDON)

“That was August Blue in the Live Lounge, covering Thanks For The Memories by Fall Out Boy. These guys have some right talent, don’t they? Yeah...well, you can keep up to date with them by watching their interview with us on IPlayer right now, and they’re also going to be on tour in London and various other American venues within the next few months. I’m proper excited for that...”

No matter how many interview schedules and radio plays, Jeongguk doesn’t feel as though he is ever going to get used to this feeling. 

For now, it is an endless series of chaos, radio stations and newspapers wanting to talk to the newest music craze- because that’s what August Blue were, whether Jeongguk liked that or not. 

August Blue were a band who nobody thought could make it. From early fans of the band, when they were barely filling up Korean venues and getting more than a thousand views on original songs, to big-name celebrities like Axel Choi who had waltzed into Jeongguk’s part-time job when he was seventeen. The man, one of Jeongguk’s idols, had looked him in the eye, considered his band and his dream and said he didn’t have the talent to do anything good with his band, and told him, if you want to be big, you have to be American.

It wasn’t quite the same, or what Axel had intended for it to mean, but four years later Jeongguk now sits number one on the Billboard Charts with his ‘band with no potential’, making a name for themselves, bringing pride to their culture, love with their music, and money to Korea’s economy. The amount of fans that August Blue had collected over the four years of Jeongguk’s band being formally considered a band were unimaginable, many flocking to landmarks to photograph lampposts he stood next to on Instagram, others going to his home-country to enjoy the country that had birthed icons. 

If only Jeongguk had the same love and pride for his country; they had turned their backs on them simply because of their popularity overseas. 

Well, fuck them- Jeongguk and his band are going somewhere no other Korean band or artist can even touch, and while we’re on the subject- Axel Choi can eat a dick! Jeongguk’s not doing so bad for a Busan boy working at 7-Eleven, and while Jeongguk’s drinking champagne like a King on the top of the charts, it’s hard to see everybody else at the bottom.

August Blue leave the BBC Broadcasting House, on their way to the hotel for their last two nights in London before heading back to America. It doesn’t quite feel real yet, for Jeongguk to say that his band have sold out two nights at the O2 Academy Brixton. Admittedly, it’s not as big as their shows in America, which similarly happens to be where most of their fans are located, but for a first time in the UK, it’s a dream to see it sold out with his band's name and faces on billboards nearby.

Beside him in the black van, August Blue’s bassist Hoseok sighs deeply and fastens his seatbelt, his hands immediately rummaging into his coat pocket to pull out his phone. Nevertheless, a smile does dance on his lips; a few fans had gathered outside the building to see them off, as well as welcome them when they arrived for their Live Lounge recording and interview. It still feels surreal for Jeongguk to see his face on shirts, and to hear people call his name. As the car begins to pull out of the car park, Jeongguk squints through the darkened glass at the fans, a bright smile on his face as they cheer, right until the car is out of the building vicinity.

“Should arrive at the hotel in thirty.” From the passenger seat, August Blue’s manager twists to face the band in the back seats. Jeongguk barely lifts his face to see him, his eyes glancing over and then moving back out the window, watching London pass by in a blur. “Try and get some shut-eye. Good job today, guys.”

“Thanks, coach,” Seokjin replies. It’s always Seokjin who does the talking, taking the role of Big Bro whenever August Blue’s lead vocal and, let’s face it, the reason why they have fans, Jeongguk, isn’t feeling particularly chatty, which is more often than not. “Let’s keep working hard, yeah?”

The question is directed out to everybody in the van, and Jeongguk finally looks over. He nods, gently and smiles as if it hurts him to be genuine, and then his attention is back out the window, his mind back with the fans who had screamed for him, his heart filled with the warmth of the memory.

It’s good to be loved, to be accepted. It’s good to be successful when people doubted you could do it.

THE DEVILS ARE DANCING. (VENICE)

“It sounds really good, Jeongguk. Want me to run it one more time?”

Jeongguk shrugs the weight of his jacket off his shoulders, twisting the cable attaching to his headphones so they unravel around his body and raises his thumb through the glass to the rest of the studio. On cue, the familiar sound of the opening melody to August Blue’s updated track, Hold Your Breath, floods through the speakers, slightly tinny but nonetheless clear for all to hear. While Sejin, August Blue’s manager, aids the producer by pointing out minor audio flaws, Jeongguk joins the rest of his band in the studio to gather around. The last to join the group is Seokjin, the drummer who rubs at his wrists pathetically, his duet of drumsticks poking out of his back pocket.

Sejin’s right- it does sound good.

The strums from Hoseok, Taehyung and Namjoon’s instruments sounds incredible, and it’s probably their strongest non-punk track of the year. Retrospectively, it sounds nostalgic, reminding Jeongguk of those summer evenings in Busan after a tiring day of school and garage-band practise with the guys. When the chorus moulds together, Jeongguk’s lips lift to a satisfied and exuberant smile, the harmonies from everybody’s vocals blending together before the chorus comes to a finale, and Namjoon’s deeper vocals come for the second round of verses.

As he listens, Jeongguk recalls the moment he sat down and wrote this song, back when he was eighteen and feeling like the world was against him. In that respect, this song means a lot to him and the band, reminiscent of a time where it felt impossible to get out of the garage and into venues. Then, when Friends brought them out of small Korean venues into charts abroad and giving them radio play, Jeongguk had stored Hold Your Breath on a memory stick and his worn out lyric book, until the right moment came for him to present it to a studio. It just so happened that ADORA, a respected and famous Korean producer based in the US-of-A, had loved the track, bringing it back to square one where Jeongguk stands still, unaware that the single has finished playing.

“It’s one of our best,” Namjoon admits bashfully, his hand brushing the back of his neck, a habit. He extends his gaze out to the rest of the band, “am I right?”

“Better than Friends?” Seokjin asks, surprised. He tilts his head as if he disagrees. “Nothing can beat Friends.” After that statement, something about another song comes up in conversation but it dies out over the sound of Hold Your Breath being rolled back and played again.

On the other side of Jeongguk, Hoseok hums and claps the younger on the shoulder, the sound of Jeongguk’s hiss ignored and silenced by the excited discussion over the track by the producers, lunch menus between Seokjin and Namjoon. With a slight wince, Jeongguk looks over at the bassist.

“It’s all thanks to you!” Hoseok says, a tight but honest smile on his face. “Without you, there’d be no songs. I’m telling you, we knew you were special!”

“Thanks, Hobi,” Jeongguk replies quietly. “Let’s hope people like it and it sells.”

“Why wouldn’t it?” Hoseok muses, frowning. “Just because it has a story doesn’t mean it won’t sell. Honestly, Guk, this one’s great. It’s gonna be amazing.”

Like always, Jeongguk finds that difficult to believe, despite records and albums selling luxuriously every time. It’s mandatory to doubt, especially when you’ve got a lot to lose; August Blue are just another band, another group of guys trying to make a name for themselves across the pond. Right now, they’re not huge, not as big as Jeongguk wants them to be- they can sell out a couple arenas, top charts and headline shows, but they’ve still got a long way to go, still got the prejudice of being foreign. If anything, that only motivates them more. Nothing feels better than proving the white man wrong.

“When it’s finished, we’ll have a promising B-side for the album,” starts Adora, the producer looking over her shoulder with satisfaction at the five guys. “I’d like to run through Dancer in the Dark, though? Adjust the drums, maybe add more to the sax?”

Jeongguk nods, taking a quick sip of water from a bottle on top of the small cabinet pushed to the wall of the studio. “Might work better as the A, actually. Guys, what’dya think?”

“Yeah, sure,” Namjoon replies. “It’s a good song- will probably look better with a music video too. Want us back in the booth for it?”

Adora shakes her head, rolling the song back up. “Nah. Just gonna listen for now. Good job, guys.”

With that, and the familiar opening melody of Dancer in the Dark filtering through the speakers, Sejin claps his hands and gives a thumb to the rest of the band, sending them off for an hour or two until they’re needed again. In ADORABLE TRAP Records, singers were more often than not props, voices for her to play with. Jeongguk provides a demo, a rough idea of what the song should sound like and Adora works her magic, changing tones and amplifying the bass, creating something magical and sensational for when August Blue regroup in the studio at a later time. The band trust Adora and her team, considering she’s half the reason why they’re big worldwide in the first place.

THREE AM is August Blue’s anticipated first full length album, after many months of EP’s and mini albums, alongside the handful of covers accumulated over the years. ATR expects it to be completed by the end of the week, with only minor final touches needed on a select few of the tracks, eleven seamless and sensually exciting songs ready to release to the budding and hungry public. Like always, the pressure of perfection hangs over the studio, intoxicating and infuriating, and as soon as he can escape the room, Jeongguk inhales the clean and purified air of the outer studio, where a leather sofa sits beside a flickering vending machine that’s surely seen better days.

Hoseok groans, massaging the cramp out of his shoulder with his leather jacket still in his hand, spinning wildly with the arms extended out, hugging the air. “God, I’m so fucking hungry. Shall we go out?”

“Mm,” Namjoon agrees, “sounds good. Guk, Jin, you in for some food?”

Somewhere behind Jeongguk, Seokjin sighs loudly- a noise that has the nerve to sound like a whine, childish and ungrateful. “I need to find new drumsticks. Look at the state of these things.” Over his shoulder, Jeongguk spies the blunt ends of Seokjin’s sticks, the smooth and rounded ends frayed and close to splintering.

“How did that even happen?” Hoseok asks incredulously, while Seokjin’s distinct laughter rises in volume.

“Don’t ask,” Seokjin shakes his head in reply. “Anyway, won’t take long. Isn’t that one store nearby? The one owned by the Daegu guy?”

Namjoon confirms this. Not too far away from ATR, located in a renovated storage house in Venice, there is a comfortably successful and trustworthy store that August Blue aren’t strangers to; DBOY is one of the best, expensive and well respected amongst musicians who frequent LA. Jeongguk recognises the name, as if on command picturing the small guy who runs it in his head. 

Of course, it’s not owned by him- DBOY is known for being established and owned by Min Dowoon, a retired music producer whose name is legendary amongst artists and most certainly intimidating to the likes of Busan boys like Jeongguk. Regardless, it is his son, Yoongi, who pretty much runs the place. From what Jeongguk can vaguely remember from the last time he met with Yoongi, he recalled the aforementioned to have a fine and grand collection of ostentatious instruments and equipment. As for the seller himself- well, Yoongi can be a little bit of a nouveau-riche, perhaps even unapproachable, but it’s not as if people go to DBOY looking for a conversation.

Jeongguk might be the lead vocalist of the band, but he most certainly does not regard himself the leader. Due to this fact, he stares back at the other members of the band, waiting for a decision to be made for him. While on stage, Jeongguk enjoys playing pretend and acting as if the world was his for the taking, his for his pleasure, off-stage he enjoyed living quietly and comfortably, some might say obediently, shying under the authority of his elder band-members.

“What? Yeah, of course,” Namjoon replies almost immediately. “It’s on the way to that Korean place we went to last time we came here.”

Taehyung sounds zealous at the mentioning of the Korean restaurant, which pretty much means everybody’s mind has been made up. When Seokjin catches up with Jeongguk and wraps his longer arms around him playfully, Jeongguk finally lets himself loosen the tension carved into his skin from the studio, being pulled and pulling Seokjin out of the studio and into the sunny street.

The drive to DBOY is neither long or difficult, considering the traffic has decided to fall on their side of luck today. Hoseok, who enjoys being the designated driver for the band whenever he can help it, turns right and pulls the car into the staff-only car park, uncaring for the signs that turn him away and parks awkwardly near the shrubs behind the store. 

Without being affected in the face of Seokjin’s disbelieving protests against Hoseok’s parking preferences, Jeongguk undoes his seatbelt in a grouchy silence and hops out, feeling the underneath of his knees aching due to the tightness of his jeans. The front face of his knees are torn, the tan skin poking out and slightly red from where, out of unhealthy habit, he scratches his skin, the only source of colour aside from his skin being the mustard of his shoes, comfy and worn out of love.

He always forgets just how warm America is- not that it’s not welcomed, of course. Only, now he half wishes he hadn’t worn an all-black ensemble, the sun hot on his neck and underarms. The rest of August Blue take their gentle time getting out of the hired vehicle, a cacophony on the right side where Seokjin and Hoseok have stepped out, arguing over the angle of the tyres as if it genuinely makes any difference considering the car is out of sight from the public, meaning it’s bothering nobody at all besides Seokjin, who appears to be the only person complaining. 

Jeongguk just rolls his eyes, over it, and brushes his untamed parting out of his eyes carefully, avoiding catching the curled strands on the bar of his eyebrow piercing.

DBOY, like always, is quiet and glorious, rising high against the bungalow-sized stores surrounding the lot. Its architecture is refined, boxy and brown and all-in-all American, a copy of every brown bricked building you’d see in the movies. And yet, it still stands out, with bright yellow accents like the colour of Jeongguk’s shoes, similarly promoted within the interior if Jeongguk remembers correctly. 

The first time Jeongguk had come here it had been with acquiesce, mostly just to shut Seokjin up after he read a few five star reviews online. That was around about the time Taehyung had joined the band, with little rockstar aura and a gift for the keyboard and saxophone, which incredibly added an accent to August Blue’s music that helped them chart worldwide, a Korean The 1975 as a headline which didn’t seem all that bad, given the leader of the latter seemed down to Earth about it. 

Jeongguk now cannot deny that DBOY offers something to a piece of music that quite literally no other can, hence why he sets off first towards the oversized yellow door and pushes it open with all its weight. Like Yoongi and his brusque facade, Jeongguk’s not shocked to find the door is a heavy metal, requiring attention to push it open, but yet it always catches him off guard, as if he’s expecting it to get easier each time.

Once inside, the all too familiar sound of I Want To Break Free greets his ears, the sound echoey and tinny, like you’d expect for a building with a high ceiling decorated with pipes drenched in the signature yellow. It is bright, and chilly as he enters due to the air-conditioning, yet the warmth engulfing him as all of the band enter and the door closes. On a good day, DBOY is virtually empty; majority of their orders are online and dealt with by another customs manager that is not the staff on duty, which coincidentally is how Yoongi likes it, considering he’s a bit of a black sheep, not exactly enthusiastic about talking when he can help it.

While Hoseok and Taehyung make a b-line towards the vinyls and collection of photographs that Yoongi displays in order to show off how many celebrities he’s had the delight of selling to, Jeongguk follows behind Seokjin and Namjoon as they head towards the desk, pushed towards the back of the store behind endless stacks of records, the left side of the store displaying a rare and gorgeous collection of instruments that Jeongguk ogles at as he passes. 

Yoongi is a personal collector of vintages, including exact pieces and similarly replicas, the newer models closer to the desk where the cameras can keep an extra eye on their condition. Jeongguk has half an idea to make a directional change and head right, but the opening to the operative desk appears before him, or over the shoulder of Namjoon as he walks behind him.

DBOY feels abnormally silent today, not even the distinct humming of Yoongi detectable in the stacks. Namjoon purses his lips, looking around half-heartedly before moving towards the desk, raising his hand to drum his fingers upon the varnished dark wood. The dull sound of his fingertips brings Jeongguk’s head away from the instruments, and similarly, a head from a book.

At first, Jeongguk’s only half-looking. In blunt honesty, he’s not too interested in whoever is behind the desk, a sigh leaving between his lips as he buries his hands into the pockets of his jeans with great difficulty due to the tightness, something which attracts the eyes of the little dove behind the desk, her eyes darting to the refined bulge of his biceps and veins crawling on his forearms.

“Oh,” comes a gentle voice that, with reluctance, pulls Jeongguk’s eyes back over. “Sorry. I didn’t even hear you come in! I didn’t even hear the bell…”

Namjoon’s eyebrows pull upwards. “You have a bell?”

“Yeah...I think?” Questionable. “Well, I thought we did...I bet Yoongi took it out again. Fucker, he doesn’t tell me anything.”

Seokjin leans backwards on one foot, taking a peek back towards the doors where, hoorah, there is a bell on the wall above the entrance. “Oh, look at that. Guess you do have a bell.”

“Well,” finishes the voice, and Jeongguk takes the chance to look at the little display on top of the desk, a complementary addition that spells out the cashiers name in a disgustingly ordinary font. Y/N is what it reads today, which Jeongguk makes a note of and looks away from at the same time. “That bell is definitely broken. Huh. Anyway, sorry. Can I help you?”

“Yoongi here?” Namjoon asks, his weight now entirely reliant on the weight of the desk. By this point, Jeongguk has led himself over to the instruments, the only sight of him being his back marked and outlined by the clinginess of his tee.

You nod once, smiling and slamming the book from your lap on the top of the desk. Never did Namjoon expect for the title to read The Encyclopedia of Sharks, and as you spin in your chair to heckle in the back office, Namjoon glances at Seokjin over his shoulder with an amused smile, his eyes gesturing back to the book earning Seokjin a snigger.

“...and you didn’t tell me the bell was broken at the door.”

Your voice enters the store once more from the back office, accompanied by the smaller frame of Yoongi as he discards a tinfoil ball into the trash underneath the desk.

“Sorry. Y/N, the bell at the door is broken,” Yoongi deadpans, and you sneer in reply, tugging away from his childish and playful smile to be seated. When he’s decided he’s finished fondly looking at you, Yoongi addresses the band in the room, a secondary smile lifts the corners of his lips. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry, tour,” Namjoon offers as an explanation.

“Don’t sweat it,” Yoongi shrugs in reply. “You recording?”

“As we speak,” Seokjin pipes in. “And, look- went to some stores in Vancouver for sticks last year and got given this!” His tone is elevated with genuine aghast, holding up his drumsticks and Yoongi pulls a face.

“That’s what you get for going somewhere other than here,” Yoongi frowns. “Come with me. The newest collection actually just came in. You all in here? Keep sticky fingers away from my signed records.”

The remainder of their conversation is muted for you, as you watch the group of guys shuffle away from the desk and towards the display of instruments. Whereas Yoongi holds an extensive knowledge on music and instruments, you can happily and readily admit that it is not within your comfort zone.

Truth be told, the only reason you work at DBOY is for money, and because Yoongi happens to be a relative willing to pay you more than you deserve. Family history is the reasoning for Yoongi’s undying devotion to music, alongside a half-completed degree in sound engineering that he tells people he’s got, because the two years he braved University sure as hell didn’t happen for no reason. 

As for you, you prefer the less audible arts, the ones starting and stopping with paintbrushes and splashes of colour. If someone were to ask, your job at DBOY offers a daily observation of the various album covers dotted around the store, ready to be fingered and thumbed when you’re changing the display shelves, or cleaning the trays.

In simpler terms, Yoongi is the expert. You’re just the person who sits behind the desk and pretends to be a professional.

“Newer Hickory over here,” says Yoongi, as he leads the three ducklings through the store towards the lined stacks of drumsticks. In awe, like a child in a candy store, Seokjin surges forward and gapes at the selection, his eyes glued to a signature collection, signed and overwhelmingly expensive. “Oh, yeah. Queen. Signed by Roger Taylor himself, wanna feel ‘em?”

Seokjin does want; his eyes light up like tiny lamps and they widen in size, followed by the rise and fall of his feet as he hops with literal overflowing excitement. Namjoon laughs at the sight of it, the sound eventually calling Hoseok and Sticky-Fingers-Taehyung away from the pride of Yoongi’s photo collection and towards the rest of the band. Something deep within Jeongguk claws, a smile on his face as he watches Seokjin get visibly excited over the drumsticks formerly belonging to Roger Taylor. Even Jeongguk himself, despite the sudden appearance of his angst, oohs and aahs at the stick set, being directed by Yoongi to the line of new guitars and boxes on show.

“New face?”

By the time Hoseok has settled with the group, Yoongi looks up from the set of Les Paul that Namjoon is admiring for its matte polish and notices Hoseok’s gaze pointed in your direction. Yoongi follows, his chin lifting with satisfactory pride when he sees you’re reading, as always, unfocused on the group and submerged in your own world.

When you wanted, you could be excited about celebrities when they came into DBOY, but there was honestly the high chance that you didn’t even know August Blue. Considering Yoongi knew them through connections and through a year exchange programme in Australia where he had met Jeongguk and gave him advice for the band, he of course felt familiar, close enough to actually consider the members to be friends.

“Sorta,” he admits in reply. “She’s been here a while now. Y/N.”

“She’s pretty,” Namjoon comments, which, to no surprise, irritates Yoongi. He glares in the direction of the guitarist and scowls, his face pulled up with disgust.

That’s when Jeongguk looks over, drinking in the sight of you for the first time ever. Usually, Jeongguk takes great pride in the fact that he fears attachment, therefore closing himself off emotionally to everybody outside of August Blue. Due to this fact, he almost never finds himself interested in anybody, his limitations at sex which, even then, he doesn’t engage in often. 

He spies on you from where he is standing, next to the electric guitar displays, watching carefully at the way you carry yourself, what you choose to show people. What you are doing now is boondoggle, skimming through pages you’ve read before to present the image of you being busy. By luck, you had dressed more nicer than usual for this date- your hair pulled half up and half down, the lilac scrunchy keeping the curls together and a black and white striped dress wrapping around your body to where Jeongguk predicts could be your knee.

Without being modest, there’s really nothing world-stopping about you. Jeongguk knows this as he stares at you; he’s had better, and definitely had worse. God forbid it, but you have the audacity to look normal, mistakenly placed in the store, sticking out like a thumb that is sore.

“She doesn’t look like she should be working here,” Jeongguk throws in, offers almost, and Yoongi regards him with the raise of his brows, an amused smile on his face.

A deep groan rises out of Namjoon’s chest. “Here we go. He always does this- every time there’s a pretty girl, he gets like this.”

“Gets like what?” Jeongguk asks, scoffing.

“Jerky,” Hoseok agrees, laughing and pointing a finger at Jeongguk accusingly. When he silences with small gasps of amusement, he smiles and says, “did you know it’s a turn off for girls?”

“Then tell me why I have more game than you?” Jeongguk quips.

Hoseok just laughs, and both of them know it’s false, considering Hoseok and his unofficial girlfriend have been hooking up for the last five months, whereas Jeongguk has remained single and sexless; which he doesn’t care about, especially when there’s a million other things he could be doing and worrying over. Comfort previously found in pillowcases and sexual endauvers can now be found in white powders and green liquids, either- either warm enough to keep him happy, at least until Seokjin tells him he should stop and put it to rest.

Yoongi quietly twists the key in the display lock after confirming that Seokjin wants the sticks in his hand. “She’s good. She does her job, and in return, I let her do what she wants when nobody’s in the store. Give it a break, yeah?”

Jeongguk scoffs with surrender, raising his shoulders as he lets it drop at Yoongi’s request. Meanwhile Yoongi answers questions about the instruments for sale, lined up for the band to gawk at with ungraciousness, Jeongguk actually turns back around. Another elongated sigh leaves his mouth, the sound of creeping boredom, and finally, his gaze once again settles on yourself. 

You’ve moved since he last looked over; the book on sharks is set on top of the desk again, and now you’re risen. From where he is standing, the desk curves, revealing that his predictions on dress length were fruitless considering the stretch of your dress rises above the knee, bunching around your thigh comfortably. He has to respect it- it’s hot in Venice.

Without particularly wanting to, Jeongguk’s legs wander from his original spot towards the desk, his eyes elsewhere to feign disinterest. The truth of the matter is that he isn’t really interested, unless you counted the dull rise of arousal in the pit of his stomach. That being said, Jeongguk glances up at your face once more and sucks air into his cheeks, hollowing the skin as he knocks on his heels and turns away from you before you can notice. Namjoon was right, to some extent. You were pretty.

“You like The Clash?”

A sweet voice hauls Jeongguk’s attention up and over towards the corner of the desk, where on the other side you stand with both hands flat on the surface, your entire body lifting your weight cutely. Jeongguk’s heart leaps and he glares down at his hands, finding London Calling in his hands, indicating that whilst on his solo mission of pretending to be preoccupied near you, he had just picked up the first thing in front of him.

Jeongguk clears his throat gruffly and shakes his head once. “No.”

For a few seconds, nothing is said. “Oh.” And Jeongguk hopes you’ll leave it there, let him pretend he’s invisible until he’s thought of something to say, but as always, his prayers are ignored. “Do you need help finding something?”

“No,” Jeongguk grits out. He speaks with acrimony, the tone at first catching you off-guard until he looks up, and his eyes tell a quiet story that makes your mouth close tightly. “I’m browsing. Am I not allowed to browse?”

Whether he likes or expects it, the way Jeongguk speaks makes a grin spread across your face, covering your original expression of surprise. He’s not quite sure how to feel about this, or what to make of how his chest feels when it happens.

“Sorry,” you reply, not exactly sounding apologetic. “It’s my job to ask, I guess. Well...enjoy your browsing. If you need me…” Repeatedly, his gaze lifts from the stack of CDs back towards you and it is only when you look away that he allows himself to slip, the smallest of frowns tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Although he knows better, Jeongguk sighs and pushes himself away from his end of the desk. It slides, semi-circular with the front in the store and behind it in its own secluded room, decorated with posters and old lockers that are used for storage. It doesn’t take looking up to register the fact that Jeongguk has moved next to you, parallel; something about Jeongguk feels particularly distinct, heavy and intimidating with the smell of hazelnut that enriches woody elements, a signature male smell that fills your nose.

“So.” Jeongguk starts over, his voice clipped but also clear, as though encouraging a conversation. To you, it feels unpredictable, almost as if talking to him was absurd; to Jeongguk, it is a bravado. “You like sharks.”

Out of surprise, your attention snaps towards him. His expression gives nothing away, and it is only when he raises his eyebrows expectantly that you remember the book, that stupid book you found under the desk when you clocked in this morning after your nine-am seminar. The Encyclopedia of Sharks, smiling razor blades face up at you and an embarrassed heat rises in your body.

“Um, not really?” you confess, avoiding the scrutiny of his stare. Jeongguk’s face is levelled into unamusement, challenging the fact you don’t like sharks in the same way you questioned his interest in The Clash. A bewildered smirk dawns on his face and you smile, tightly and revealing a dimple near your jaw that Jeongguk’s attention is pulled to. “I like Sharknado, though.”

“Right,” Jeongguk replies, finishing with a laugh that is mostly air through his teeth, a snigger of sorts, and he shakes his head downwards, fluffing his hair all within the same movement. It shocks you, genuinely, to hear a laugh come out from his mouth.

While he is busy sniggering to himself, because apparently what you said tickled his remaining sense of humour, you seize the opportunity to dance your eyes across his body. “Your tattoos are pretty.” It leaves your mouth carelessly, but Jeongguk looks up with a smile on his face, a gorgeous set of pearly whites on show.

“Yeah?” he asks, and then he flexes his arms unintentionally, peering at the black ink decorating his skin. Your mouth waters inside, soaking in the sight of him before it’s snatched away, like all the good things in your life. “Thanks.”

“Mhm,” you offer, feeling mortified.

“I saw you’re close with Yoongi,” Jeongguk mentions, after a short pause. “Boyfriend? Best friend? Super close colleagues?”

“What? Ew, no. Yoongi’s my cousin. Well. You know, when someone just becomes a cousin ‘cos you’re close,” you reply, and Jeongguk nods casually, pursing his lips, and it ends there. “Also...none of your business.” He smirks.

On cue, an eruption of laughter simmers from across the store where Yoongi and the rest of Jeongguk’s friends are gathered, and you swallow the lump in your throat and glance at him, finding he hasn’t looked away. “Are you guys, like...in a band, or something?”

Jeongguk doesn’t know what to say. Should he be offended or relieved that you don’t know who he is?

“Something like that,” he nods.

“Can’t be that popular then, if I don’t know you,” you tease, fighting the urge to laugh when Jeongguk’s face falls dramatically. “I’m kidding. What did you say your name was again?”

“We’re called August Blue.”

“No, I meant your name,” you laugh.

Jeongguk splutters, coughing nothing out of his throat. “Oh. Jeongguk.”

There is no reasonable explanation behind why Jeongguk’s stomach feels weird when you smile- it is an unspoken rule that Jeongguk doesn’t do feelings. Jeongguk doesn’t do romance period, only hooks up on the rare occasion that he’s high enough to feel something for someone other than himself. Yet something is unsettling inside, bubbling like the top layer of boiling water in a cauldron, threatening to spill out in waves.

“Well, Jeongguk from August Blue- who I shall be indulging in very soon, as in, when you leave the store and I can do it without you watching me-,” you pause when he laughs again. You wonder if he laughs often, or if you’re one of the lucky ones. “-, it’s a pleasure meeting you.”

“Is it?” he questions disbelievingly.

You tilt your head curiously. “Why wouldn’t it be? I mean, aside from you coming for me doing my job.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “Whatever. And, I’m just saying.”

A playfulness grabs at your shirt. “Why? Are you dangerous, Jeongguk?” Your eyes narrow into slits, challenging, and Jeongguk just smirks, exhaling softly. There is something charismatic about him, that’s for sure.

“All I’m saying, is that guys like me aren’t good for girls like you,” Jeongguk settles, unprepared for the unexpected laughter that bursts from your chest, bouncing around the room until Jeongguk actually feels somewhat uncomfortable. “What?”

But the laughter is uncontrollable, loud enough to bring Yoongi back to the desk questioningly, followed by the rest of August Blue as they shadow Yoongi like lost puppies. Yoongi pushes the small gate open and his eyes widen at you hunched over on the desk, secondly acknowledging Jeongguk as he stares deadpan at you, wondering what it was he said that was so comedic.

“You make it sound so simple,” you tell him, once the laughter has subsided. “It’s cute that you think you know what kind of girl I am.”

Hoseok side-eyes the situation as Seokjin fishes out his credit card, feeling as though they’ve all interrupted something they shouldn’t have. What is more shocking is the fact that Jeongguk accepts the challenge- he’s normally isolative with his voice when around new people, only comfortable at home or on the stage surrounded by people screaming lyrics he died to dream up and write down.

“Aren’t I right though?” Jeongguk asks, smiling like he’s got it figured out. “The pretty innocent girls like you...I’m the kind of guy your family warned you about.” While Namjoon snorts, Taehyung nods, supporting Jeongguk’s statement as you look over his shoulder at him.

Before you can even speak, Yoongi barks out a laugh, shaking his head as he returns Seokjin’s card. “Guk, you have no clue.”

If there’s one thing Jeongguk dislikes, it’s feeling as though he’s missing out on something. Back and forth, he looks at both yourself and Yoongi, waiting for an explanation. Yoongi prolongs it, finding sadistic enjoyment in the gradual irritation solidifying on his face, his tongue prodding his inner cheek with a bored expression to match.

“Dude, her daddy’s Axel Choi,” Yoongi snorts, and he laughs loudly when Jeongguk’s whole face drops to the floor, the butterflies in his stomach replaced with an instant sourness, like the bitter burn of alcohol after one too many glasses.

Bewildered, Jeongguk is rendered speechless, and while Yoongi burps laughter and makes a note of the stock now that Seokjin has purchased something, the respective remaining four members of August Blue share cautious glances, apprehensively watching what Jeongguk does or says. Saying Axel Choi feels stupid and minute, but within Jeongguk’s world, it has the same consequence as saying Lord Voldemort in Harry Potter. Whatever attempts Jeongguk has made to forgive or forget what Axel Choi once said to him in that 7-Eleven in Busan is fruitless, the judging and patronising tone clear in his ears, flooding back like a PTSD.

“Wait, what the fuck?”

“Ooh,” you start, lifting up with excitement, “what did he dooo?”, at the same time that Namjoon warningly mutters Jeongguk’s name.

“You look nothing like him,” Jeongguk says dumbly.

“That’s kinda where the step comes in. Stepdad, no blood relation, thank fuck!”

“Come on, Guk, it’s not like she was even there when he shat on all your hopes and dreams,” Yoongi frowns, raising his hand slightly in an effort to diffuse the tension. Purposefully, he ignores the way you look at Yoongi with question, realising instantly that Jeongguk’s behaviour isn’t a matter of personality but instead pride, a desperation to prove himself. “Lay off.”

“He’s family.”

“Is he fuck,” you snort, the sound and language together making Jeongguk even more confused, his head pounding with a mixture of nausea and relief, the upset of his seventeen year old self something he can’t quite shrug off, like the memory of a bad dream. “And, come on. Isn’t that unfair? Put it this way- your dad kills someone, should we go to jail too just because we’re family?” Jeongguk says nothing. “Besides, he’s been married to my Mom for like, six years? And I still don’t like him or get along with him!”

“We just have...bad experiences with him,” Namjoon admits, not forgetting to throw a glare in Jeongguk’s temperamental direction, and he reacts with a jerk, an annoyed scoff leaving his mouth.

Jeongguk crosses his arms. “He told us we’d never succeed. The fucker basically said we didn’t have the talent to be big.”

“And yet, here you are,” you point out thoughtfully, and Jeongguk pauses, acknowledging you fully. “People always succeed when others are negative. I guess we’ll just have to prove him wrong, hm?”

The funny part is that Jeongguk absolutely knows that you are right. In spite of the jarring fact that Axel Choi’s memory is now back in his life with the news of your connections to him, Jeongguk is fully aware of how none of this is your fault. Jeongguk knows better than anybody that baseless judgements were more often unhelpful and toxic than not, and instantly, an apology is brewing in his mouth, words connected by thin strings in his brain, formulating two simple words that feel impossible to mouth. 

Alas, rockstars and their inflated egos; Jeongguk swallows the words back down, battling the urge to say what’s truly on his mind because he’s afraid of what might come out in its place.

So he walks.

Dejected and confused, Jeongguk spares a look at everybody in the room before shaking his head, as if trying to get something out of his head. The worry that slightly pools in your stomach at the sight of it worsens when he storms back down the length of the stacks, closely followed by Hoseok who is a foot away from calling his name. For the rest of the band, it seems, this is instrinctic of Jeongguk, and they quietly but speedily finish up and follow suit. Before he exits, Namjoon smiles over at you, something hidden in the movement that assures you it’s not your fault, even when your agape mouth and stuttering starts suggest you feel otherwise.

Jeongguk makes it out of DBOY before his lungs cave inwards, the hot smell of air pumping into his body as he steps outside to catch his breath. Hoseok’s hand comfortingly presses between his shoulder blades as he finally catches back up with the younger, and Jeongguk refrains from snatching himself away. The demon in his head cackles and the desperate angel pets his hair, tells him that if he pushes more people away, he’ll have nobody. Jeongguk’s not sure if he’s heard that angel speak before.

Hoseok guides Jeongguk back towards the car, silently accepting that Jeongguk didn’t mean it. He never does. He quietly accepts it, patting his leg when Jeongguk sits down once the car is unlocked. Jeongguk doesn’t say a word, not even when the rest of August Blue pile in the car, animatedly talking about the Korean restaurant they’re planning to eat at next. Clockwork routine, they never bring it up afterwards.

The car pulls away and Jeongguk winds the window down with a frown. He’d like a cigarette.

Not that Jeongguk has been counting, but it has been four days since August Blue had visited DBOY. 

Against his tight schedules consisting of long hauls in Adora’s studio, revising songs and making minor changes to each track in preparation for the album release in a few days time, the mere memory of DBOY has been the last thing and least important thing on his mind. In sooth, he doesn’t think about it until he’s alone, vulnerable in his own personal comforts surrounded by white and red. The memory haunts him, keeps him awake for no reason. Jeongguk wishes he could go back, wipe the slate clean, listen to the angel and not be such a prick. He can do this- he does do this.

On the following day, Jeongguk wakes up with a free schedule, waking in bed with the dark grey sheets belted around his lower waist. Casting a glance to his phone that lights up distractedly with notifications, he sees that the time reads eleven am and he yawns. Knowing the rest of the band, they’ve probably scattered already; Hoseok had mentioned something off-handedly last night about spending the day with Roseanne, and Namjoon would most likely be reading alone or exploring with Taehyung, the final man of the hour, Seokjin, sleeping in until it hurts to sleep.

He could do the same, but he doesn’t. Instead, Jeongguk gets himself up and ready, finding his body lead itself back in the direction of DBOY, only realising that he’s come back when he’s outside the front blinking up at the sign.

Somewhere down the street, the sound of screaming reaches his ears- sometimes it’s hard to escape the fans who long for a glimpse at their idols, and to avoid them catching on as to where he’s fled to, Jeongguk hurls himself through the heavy metal door and into the store. It comes as no surprise that it’s empty inside, cool again and this time bursting the lyrics to a Fleetwood Mac record he can’t quite remember the name of but recognises.

The long walk down the length of the aisle is intimidating, daunting as Jeongguk walks and sees nobody behind the desk. Aside from the echoed sound of Fleetwood Mac, the store is virtually silent- admittedly, there is a small group of teenagers at the other end talking quietly, but they are so muted that Jeongguk at first doesn’t realise they are there. Instead he continues forward, slowing significantly when he reaches the desk and finds absolutely nobody in attendance.

For a second, Jeongguk considers leaving. However, the herd of fans he had stalking him outside are no doubt still outside somewhere, and as soon as he considers it, the sound of your voice makes his head snap up attentively. The door that joins the desk space to the back office rattles slowly and then pulls open, and Jeongguk inhales a breath when you step out, as charming as you were five days prior.

Jeongguk is all you see when you pick your chin up, staring at his face closely as he hovers lumpishly, looking out of place. Before he can speak, you regard his appearance, a flattering mixture of tonal blacks; the tight leather jacket covering a black roll neck and tight skinny jeans, even the trademark face-mask that has been pulled below his face, hanging by his neck.

“Oh,” you breathe softly, stunned. “Jeongguk, right?…”

“Hi,” he replies, and you take pleasure in noticing the dulled volume of his voice. “You’re here.”

He considers it a win when you smile. “Well, I do work here.”

“Yeah, I know, I don’t know why I said that,” Jeongguk mutters. “I just...Are you free?”

You make your way towards the desk, gently kicking an empty storage box with your feet. “Sadly, I am always free. You know, considering Yoongi is so popular, this shop is always empty. What’s up with that?” It’s rhetorical, and Jeongguk laughs gently. “What’s up? Left something here? I didn’t think you’d come back...well, after…”

Jeongguk frowns immediately, the unmissable darkened gaze of regret on his face. “That’s actually why I came back. Look.” He sighs, deeply and loudly. “I know it’s not your fault. With Axel.” As he speaks, your gaze is glued on him, your eyes occasionally scanning various parts of his face. “And it’s so fucking unfair for me to hold you against things he said before you even knew him, or whatever, yknow? I guess it just caught me off guard.”

You nod genuinely. “It happens.”

“And, look, I know I don’t even really know you that well, but I can tell you’re just nothing like him,” Jeongguk continues, his temper rising slowly. “You’re kind, and funny, and he’s just an asshole and-” But he stops. And, what? And, he’s still family.

“You’re right,” you agree, laughter spilling from your tongue. “No, he’s the biggest asshole. And his music sucks, let’s be honest.” Jeongguk’s mouth opens, like he wants to speak. “No wonder it took him fourteen years to make a hit…” And he laughs, loudly and in agreement. 

It must be a rarity to see him smile, to hear him laugh; with your heart in the sky, staring at Jeongguk laugh makes you feel warm, your hands quivering with satisfaction at the way his eyes curve into horizontal brackets, like moons, his teeth free with the comfort of knowing he’s safe being happy.

So, explicitly, he doesn’t say sorry like he wanted to. He tries- the words are right there, it would be easy, it is easy. As always, you are understanding, sympathetic to Jeongguk as he struggles to get his words out coherently. You know what he means. You like that he cared enough to try, anyway.

Realistically, he could have left it there, and maintained that stereotypical air of mystery and unavailability he’s used to showing people. On the contrary, Jeongguk finds more reasons to slink back towards DBOY, until he’s entirely familiar with your work schedule, having accidentally turned up when you were at a lecture, and had to suffer the pressing curiosity of your cousin. Yoongi had been so over Jeongguk pretending he was here out of personal pleasure of being surrounded by music that he had eventually just told him your work times, prompting Jeongguk into working harder in the studio to ensure more free time.

Like always, nobody in the band minded. If it meant Jeongguk was investing his spare time in something other than his own loneliness, they were happy to let it be. As for yourself, the reoccuring showing of Jeongguk in DBOY was at first, something you anticipated until the third showing where he had turned up in what you think might be his best look yet. Finally, he wears splashes of colour, his aura breathing with life as he turns up to the store wearing blue denim jeans, with maroon boots and a red beanie over his hair which has been flattened.

Each visit from the man is memorable in its own way, for either parties; you gradually learn that Jeongguk was the lead singer of August Blue, his accent distinctly Australian no thanks to his mother’s dual citizenship that resulted in many family holidays out there, and the year abroad that had chanced him to meet Yoongi. In return, Jeongguk learns that you haven’t even turned twenty yet, your birthday approaching soon, and that your a dilettante, knowing virtually nothing technical about music and instead comfortable in the field of physical art, a first year studying visual art and media.

Jeongguk learns all of this on the third visit. On the fourth, he finds out that you’ve finally listened to his bands music in time for their album release the following day, now in love with the truth of their lyrics, a direct quote from your mouth that Jeongguk remembers perfectly. And on the day of THREE AM’s release, on one of his final days before tour preparations are due to start, Jeongguk finds himself in DBOY with the sound of his own voice on the speakers, and the breathtaking sight of you dancing while stacking the shelves.

It’s a new track, one off the album that dropped this morning. Dancer In The Dark plays all around him, his mind reeling when he reaches you, your back to him and hips twirling as you work. You don’t even need to turn around for Jeongguk to know that you look gorgeous- that’s something that has changed over the past few weeks of Jeongguk returning to DBOY to see you, and annoy Yoongi, respectively. 

Something inside of Jeongguk now craves you, beyond the simple lust he would have imagined. Perhaps it’s the way you didn’t know who he was, treated him like a human being rather than a God; maybe it was the way you’re so ordinary, a taste of normality Jeongguk misses, or the way you’re a relation to someone he’s been working for the past four years to prove wrong. It could well be all three.

The baby blue teddy coat over your body covers your skirt, a display of smooth and tanned legs for him to leer at, your hair once again twirled into loose curls, half up and half down, a signature style like Ariana’s high pony. 

Evidently, you’re unaware of his entry. Yoongi still hasn’t changed the bell above the door and the speakers playing his record are right above your head; this gives Jeongguk the perfect opportunity to quietly approach you from behind, waiting until the chorus fades to an end for him to carefully press his hands into your waist with a soft “boo” pushing between his lips. 

In turn, you jump, his hands momentarily cupping your waist as you move out of his grasp, turning around defensively to see who in the right mind would dare to put a hand on you, only for the guard to be dropped with reassurance once you see Jeongguk behind you, a grin on his face.

“Hi, you,” you say to him, wincing when you realise how loud the music is. “Congrats on the album release!”

Jeongguk laughs boyishly. “Yeah? You like it?”

“Mhm!” you assure, nodding with emphasis. Jeongguk follows the hint of moving away from the loud music as his voice transitions into the opening chords of a David Bowie track. “Do you even have a bad song? Like, the difference between Vibes, Dancer in the Dark and Keep it Up...gorgeous.” He laughs again, feeling over the moon at your authentic excitement. “I really love your voice.”

If humans could melt, Jeongguk would be gloop. “Thanks, Y/N. I mean it, I’m glad you like it.” His brows quirk playfully, “Clearly.” He means your dancing, circular swirls to his voice, and you conceal a smile and look away quickly.

“I recognise Hold Your Breath, too,” you continue, choosing to deliberately ignore his playful comment. One might even assume it to have been flirting. “Isn’t that one of your earlier songs?”

By this point, you’ve hopped over the desk, slid over the wood as Jeongguk watched your coat and skirt hike up with the lift of your leg. “Mmm. I see you’ve done your homework,” he comments.

“I got...curious,” you defend weakly. “I like that song. I’m so glad you decided to do a studio version, it is what she deserved!”

Today might be a new record broken for How Many Times Can Jeon Jeongguk Laugh In Your Company.

“Well, there you have it. You can listen to all of it in HD to make up for me not being here for a while.” Your smile falters and Jeongguk smiles in an attempt to ease your disappointment. “We start our promotions next weekend, actually. Just a couple shows in the States, nothing huge.”

“Oh,” you nod, your voice oddly lost and spacious. “Ugh, I’d love to see you live. I bet it’s gonna sound amazing.”

A breath hitches in Jeongguk’s throat. Come on, idiot, jeers the demon inside of him. The angel slaps him on the back of the head but his words do not cease. You haven’t got all day to do it.

“Then come,” he blurts.

Mirroring him, your mouth falls round, open. “...O-M-G, I’d love to...but I’m like...broke,” you tell him, jokingly but around the truth you both know is there.

“Y/N, you can come for free, I’m inviting you,” Jeongguk explains slowly, the grin widening on his face. Awestruck, you’re lost in the beauty of it. “I want you to come. See us play, see me. You won’t have to pay for a single thing- everything’s on me.” He breathes, “Please,” added as an afterthought.

Admittedly, he hadn’t anticipated the following silence. “When?” you ask, breathily.

“Next Saturday,” Jeongguk offers, having thought about it since before the album came out. “At the Hollywood Palladium. It’s our opening show, and I’d just really, really like for you to be there.” You think about the date for a moment, smiling when you realise what day the date falls on.

“Hollywood? That’s...amazing, Jeongguk, really,” you tell him, your voice quiet still. “...Can I bring a friend? When I listened to August Blue, they were there and we both got really invested.”

A weight is lifted off Jeongguk’s shoulders knowing that his offer has been considered. He smiles brightly, the moons back out. “Depends. Is your friend male?”

Now it is your turn to grin, your weight held up by your elbows as you lean on top of the desk towards him, slotted between his hands. His familiar hazelnut scent is strong here. “Yes. He’s male, gay, and incredibly in love with my cousin.”

What Jeongguk feels is not relief, or irritation; an elevated feeling of happiness stirs in his chest. You are so unlike anybody he’s met, from the way you see the humour in everything he says, not taking him seriously enough to treat him like he’s better than everything else, and the way you make him feel like there’s something about him worth liking; to the way you’re probably the only person he’s ever met who genuinely likes the Sharknado franchise. It without a doubt goes without saying that good things pop up where you least expect them to, in people you didn’t anticipate meeting. Feeling like his head is in the clouds, Jeongguk’s lips press together into a smile, bashful in appearance and nods, satisfied.

“Okay then,” he nods, taking a second to grasp the situation before he laughs to himself, scratching his ear absentmindedly. “Here’s my number for then, then. You can call me when you arrive, and then I’ll come out and get you, or I’ll have our manager sort some things out, so you can skip the lines and get in before everyone else.”

“Alright,” you agree softly. ���Thank you, Jeongguk.”

Although he shakes his head nonchalantly, feigning only a moderate amount of happiness, on the inside, Jeongguk’s body is screaming, his heart vibrating rapidly in his chest. On the other side, even when he bounces into a following conversation about your hair and the new book placed on the desk that you’ll probably read when you’re bored later today, you feel like you can’t breathe, can’t quite comprehend the fact Jeongguk is standing before you, his number in your phone, the sun unmatching his smile.

Some things don’t feel right, but being with Jeongguk isn’t one of them. Maybe luck is on your side for once.

(LOS ANGELES)

“So. You’ve decided to be late.”

Adjacent to where you’re standing, Park Jimin lies like a starfish on your bedsheets, his chin tilted up to the ceiling in agonising boredom as you fuss over your hair for the literal fifth time in the last four minutes.

Meeting Jimin was both the joy and the bane of your life, the boy being an unstable balance of chaotic and neutral, his sole purpose in life being to annoy the shit out of you. It had been a lovely sunny morning the day you first met him- only it had begun to thunderstorm the second he entered the arts classroom, pathetic fallacy. Being the quiet black sheep clearly did not always work in your favour considering the only spare seat left was the one next to you, meaning fate had decided to bring you both together to sketch still-life pears and grapes. Either that or a case of big, bad luck- the opinion differed depending on who you asked.

Regardless, here you both are; by cordial invite from Jeon Jeongguk himself, you have around twenty minutes to get to a venue that is thirty five away, and Jimin huffs for the fifth consecutive time, pointedly glancing over as you finish applying a generous amount of lipstick that no doubt will fade during the show. Your face is an art-piece, your body modestly covered in a silk buttoned shirt patterned with red flowers, tucked into some comfortable black jeans that Jimin turns his nose up at.

“They’re comfortable,” you argue weakly, finally following him to the car and deciding to do your shoes in the backseat. As half promised over text, Jeongguk sent a vehicle, the driver impatient and displeased by your tardiness but he says nothing, because it’s his job to drive, not to speak.

“Skinny jeans are the most impractical outfit for getting dicked down,” Jimin says with a clipped tone. “And isn’t it obvious that Jeongguk wants to do that?”

You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. “It might not be like that.”

Jimin genuinely laughs. “Oh, come on- it totally is. Why else would he invite you backstage, send a car, and stop by at your work almost daily?”

“Maybe he wants to be friends?” you suggest, but both you and Jimin know that’s so far from the truth that you can’t even see it- you just don’t want to admit it just yet. When Jimin’s tongue darts out of his mouth with a smirk, you roll your eyes and lean down to your feet as the driver cruises down the street on the clock.

[17:39PM] Jeongguk 🎼: hey are you on your way?? [17:39PM] Jeongguk 🎼: havent heard from u [17:40PM] Jeongguk 🎼: u ok?

About ten minutes into the drive, almost peaceful save Jimin’s random questions about Jeongguk, or the venue, neither particularly answerable at this stage, a series of notifications flood your phone. Taking the chance to answer while Jimin finds time to bully the driver into talking to him to cure his driving boredom, you glance down at the messages, your body reacting with a flush when you see Jeongguk’s name light up in bold.

[17:41PM] You: yes !!!! in the car rn

His reply is instantaneous.

[17:41PM] Jeongguk 🎼: ok cool 😋 as long as ur safe [17:42PM] Jeongguk 🎼: got worried lol

“Five minutes,” the driver calls, to nobody in particular as he pulls up to a set of traffic lights. Oblivious to speed limits, he seems to have got you there in the designated twenty, before the gates opened for the crowds outside.

[17:44PM] You: we will be there in five minutes ☺️ [17:44PM] You: : i’ll text you when we’re here [17:45PM] Jeongguk 🎼: ok cutie, see you then 😛

You are grown, and too old to be crushing over a boy like you’re in high school, but the way Jeongguk interacts makes your toes curl with a whole new alien type of fondness, the need to giggle paramount. You refrain from doing so, because if Jimin hears he will never let you live it down. In an effort to ignore the excitement and nervousness coursing through your veins, your leg bounces erratically as the driver, who is apparently named Joe after the chauffeur bodyguard in The Princess Diaries (no thanks to Jimin and his “boredom” which borders insensitivity), pulls up in the barricaded staff car park. The fans outside have no idea: they just see a car and start screaming, their cheers making goosebumps ripple up your arms like romantic kisses.

“That makes me feel really important,” Jimin mutters, perhaps glum about the fact that he hasn’t had this much attention since he was chubby and innocent in third grade. “Ready to go?”

“Yep,” you breathe, unsure as to whether or not you mean it. Nevertheless, Jimin opens the car door and steps out, instantly making a crowd gathered by the barricade scream. They scream for anything, just wanting to be heard, but being Jimin, he soaks it up as you clamber out on the other side.

Jeongguk seems particularly popular, and it probably wouldn’t look good if fans saw an unknown girl get out the car to go backstage. You know how fans are, how it’s easy to jump to conclusions without the facts. While Jimin raises his hand to teasingly wave at the girls who scream in response, you follow Bodyguard Joe to the backstage door guarded by two oversized muscular men, bowing your head as you enter and feel the heat of the backstage rooms hit you in the face.

At some point, Jimin joins you inside, shuffling around your body when he spots Yoongi appear at the end of the opening corridor. Yoongi is always invited to August Blue shows, by personal invitation of the band-members who are mostly Namjoon. Remembering that Jeongguk technically has no idea you’re here, you quickly shoot him a text message before a female staff member touches your shoulder gently, offering a lanyard with VVIP written in black ink, likely a band members handwriting. She smiles, quickly running over the safety regulations because, give her a break, it’s her damn job. You’re nodding, acknowledging her words blindly until she’s done, sending you on your way towards Taehyung who pops his head around the corner and smiles brightly when he sees you.

“Hey, you!”

Quite honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever said a word to Taehyung before. He doesn’t seem particularly awkward to speak to you despite this fact, and beckons you closer with a wave of his hand. As you draw nearer, you smell the faint aroma of vodka crossed with raspberry, clinging to his clothes and mouth as he comes close to speak so you can hear him over the heavy bass filling the speakers.

“What?” you ask him loudly, seeing his mouth move with nothing coming out. All you can hear is the recording of Obsessive on the speakers, pounding, reverberating the floor beneath your Dr Martens.

“I said,” Taehyung shouts, his lips on your ear, “Jeongguk’s waiting for you. I need a wee really badly, but he’s in the artists lounge, that way.” He points vaguely in a direction, but the sight of Jimin stepping in and out of a room indicates the general direction regardless. “Enjoy the show, yeah?”

“Course!” you nod to him, and he wastes zero seconds staring at you and legs it in the opposite direction, towards where you assume the toilets are. Your eyes follow him as he leaves in endearment; he’s cute, constantly looking bewildered and confused. It’s his almond eyes, like puppy dogs’.

But the thought of seeing Jeongguk outweighs watching Taehyung leave; you hurry down the corridor and enter the room you expect to be the artists lounge, and your breath is taken away immediately when Jeongguk is the first thing you see.

As if anticipating your entry, he stands the second you enter, and while he moves, you freeze. Jeongguk looks absolutely breathtaking: his hair is curly, falling over his face with a slight parting not directly centered, hooped earrings hanging from his earlobes, adding a sparkle secondary to the way his eyes are shining in the backstage lights. His skin is gorgeously tanned, shaded and accentuated by the slipping material of his shirt that reveals the expanse of his collarbones, the black complementing the tightness of his jeans. You don’t get to look at his shoes- he stops at your toes and you peer back up at his face, rendered speechless by the smile on his face.

“Hi,” Jeongguk says, laughing as if it’s so crazy that you’re here, actually here. Before you can even think of speaking, Jeongguk inhales a breath and brings it back in with one movement; he reaches for you, encircling his arms around you for a quick hug that you’re not going to let go to waste. As soon as he feels your hands on his back, he pulls you closer, tighter almost, one hand on your lower spine and the other on the back of your head.

The hug is genuinely short, but it feels eternal.

“You made it,” he comments, his voice so bewildered that for a moment, you’re actually confused. Jeongguk speaks insecurely and it makes your heart wrench- you wonder who hurt him before, what made him think that he wasn’t deserving of things as simple as somebody coming to a show when he asked them to.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” you tell him truthfully, your arms slipping to his forearms. “I’m excited!”

Jeongguk grins happily. “Me too! Ah, I’m happy you’re here. You look gorgeous.” And without shame, he drags his gaze up and down your body.

“That’s good, then,” comes Jimin’s thrown in comment from across the room, where he occupies one of the leather seats next to Yoongi and across from Hoseok, who fidgets skittishly and fiddles his fingers at a Rubix cube. “Do you know how close we were to being late because she was busy deciding a lip colour? Jimin should I go red or nude? Jimin does this shirt go with my shoes? Jimin should I paint my nails red or black to match?”

A laugh ripples out of Jeongguk’s chest and he looks back at you adoringly.

“That’s not how it happened,” you protest weakly, pouting when Jimin cackles and smirks. “And we made it didn’t we? Shut up before I revoke the plus one card.”

“I’m already here, though,” Jimin reasons.

“I’ll force you outside,” you reply.

Yoongi pulls a face, then, finally joining the conversation. “Y/N, you can’t even open the front door to the shop when you enter, let alone drag Jimin outside. Nice try, though.”

An offended gasp leaves your mouth and Jeongguk turns around, petting the top of your head. “It’s okay. Sometimes, even I can’t open it. Anyway- drink?”

You decline this offer, not really wanting to drink anything heavy in fear of vomiting it up when the show starts. Based on your history, throwing up when you’re overly excited seems to be a dirty habit, something Jimin is very happy sharing when you opt for a glass of water while Jeongguk carefully pours himself a glass of whiskey. He doesn’t tease or poke fun. Jeongguk simply smiles, like the story is a memory he’s fond of remembering, and nods you in the direction of the couch where he wants you to sit. It stays this way right up until the show starts, and then the chaos begins and the nerves settle.

Now, you’ve never been backstage before, never seen how crazy it gets as the show’s about to start. While the rest of the band hurry around collecting outfit pieces, taking a drink or tuning their instruments to perfection, Jeongguk quietly tugs at your arm and brings you to the side, a gentle and reassuring smile on his face, a frequently used expression when it concerns yourself.

“Rachel is our main backstage manager and she’s gonna take you and Jimin down to where I’ve put you for the show, yeah?” he explains, his gaze intent. Rachel is the woman from earlier, smiling patiently near the door. You spare her a glance and then look back at Jeongguk. “I’ve put you down by the stage so I can see you, okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.”

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re not in the crowd, you’re right by the stage in front of the barricade with the staff,” Jeongguk says. “Safe and sound, comfy and cosy. Can you come back after the show? There’s a party. I’ll- I’ll take you?” His tone is expectant, hopeful, and you’d be absolutely insane to let him down.

“I’ll come,” you promise. “Good luck!”

Again with the boyish charms; Jeongguk’s following smile is relaxed and lopsided, his head similarly quirked.

“Thanks, baby,” he calls, his smile widening when he notices the surprise flood your cheeks. “Cheer loud for me?”

“Always,” you tell him, gauging the scrunch of his eyes before Rachel directs both Jimin and yourself out of the backstage vicinity and towards the VVIP standing just next to the barrier. Whether or not Jimin overheard the entire ordeal is unclear; he doesn’t comment even if he did happen to overhear, remaining uncharacteristically silent until you reach your spot and he loosens up, gazing up at the stage in wonder.

When the venue feels packed to the brim and the reverberating bass of guitars literally vibrates the room, Jimin screams something about his excitement over the noise, catching your widened smile in his direction and laughing, throwing his arms around you.

Hollywood Palladium is genuinely packed to the brim, the fans by the barricade stamping excitedly as the VCR rolls to an end, the lights fade to a crimson red and silhouettes of August Blue appear on the stage. They are sensational, eliciting a chorus from the crowd that is deafening. Jimin laughs again, looking back and forth at the crowd and back at the stage, two girls from the barricade recognising him as the guy from outside and taking a photo, likely anticipating that he is of importance.

Like all concerts, the first five minutes are mind-blowing, epic and fantastical and slightly nerve-racking for all parties. At the sound of the opening chords of Meddle About, another wave of screams pierce the crowd and you wince, not expecting it but a smile still wide on your face. The cymbals crash and the lights flash brightly, revealing Jeongguk on the stage at the front, both his hands on the microphone as he speaks the first words of the night, lyrics dripped in smooth vocals that make your body swirl like on drugs. It’s mesmerising, sexy and sounding perfectly like the studio recording.

Hearing them live is a whole different experience- the way that August Blue perform is otherworldly, feeling like you’re in a subspace of slow-motion, every movement on stage emphasised. Not wanting to waste all of the show gawking at the lead vocalist, you glance at all of the other members, in awe of their talents and presence on the stage, even spotting the golden gleam of a saxophone in your peripheral vision. It is only then that you register the fact that Taehyung plays the saxophone live, and excitement and anticipation replaces birthed nerves from the opening song.

When Meddle About fades to a finale, Jeongguk smiles to himself widely as the melody to Obsessive plays almost immediately after, Namjoon’s riff introducing Jeongguk’s welcoming, “Hollywood Palladium, are you ready?” before he dives into the song. Here, Taehyung fiddles for his sax and beams down at both you and Jimin, returning to his spot to play as the song continues.

Like all songs from August Blue, you wish it would never end, your heels grinding the floor as you bop in Jimin’s arms, his chin buried in your neck as he rocks you from side to side affectionately. For the entirety of the song, and even after then, you refuse to take your eyes off Jeongguk; he moves with calculation and care, the world his bitch beneath his feet as he smirks, fucking the crowd, swirling in figure eight motions as he sings. Jeongguk is the eighth wonder of the world.

Obsessive ends, your torso rising and falling after their performance. It was a show of elan, your body buzzing with small vibrations like a bumblebee; Jeongguk’s hair is disheveled, and he exchanges caring looks with the other members, giving them the opportunity to catch their breath as he once again addresses the crowd.

“Hollywood…” he starts, smiling wolfishly when the crowd erupts into piercing screams, the fans at the barrier pounding against the metal bars impatiently and Jimin eyes them cautiously, wrapping his arms tighter around you and considerately shuffling further away. Jeongguk glances down, then, making sure everything is okay, and his eyes fall on you. The first thing he sees is your smile, enamoured and bright and wide, like golden light at the end of a dark tunnel he can’t get out of. You notice now that he speaks how strong the accent is, months and years of Australian visits clearly paying off. It’s nice, new and different, completely unlike how he speaks in Korean. “We feelin’ good tonight?”

The crowd respond gleefully, and Jeongguk chuckles into the microphone.

“Thank you all for coming out here tonight,” Jeongguk begins, swaying slightly on his feet. The movement is endearing. “Being here, on this stage, is something we have dreamed about, and now that we’re here...Wow. We couldn’t be here without you guys. Everyone who’s here- friends, family, lovers-” the crowd scream because they’re used to being mentioned this way, but when Jeongguk’s gaze briefly flickers down to you, you immediately burn up, curling into Jimin as your best friend laughs knowingly, squeezing you tighter when Jeongguk finishes his speech to the crowd, “-you guys are fucking awesome. You like the album?”

Of course, Jeongguk is not alone on the stage. Reminded of this fact, you pay attention to each members introduction, occasionally finding your eyes wandering back to the lead vocalist who seems to always be staring back. In a sea of screaming fans and waving banners, Jeongguk’s eyes land on you each time, as if reminding himself that you are here, you are here for him.

When the band finish their introductions and Jeongguk says his piece, and the opening hum from the guitars around him announce Dancer in the Dark, Jeongguk glances at you one final time and sees the way your body reacts to the song familiar to your ears, a curve extending the corner of his mouth. Jeongguk brings his attention back to the crowd where it will stay for the rest of the concert, his mind wandering between each lyric and break. Maybe- just maybe, things would work out for him in the end.

DEVIL IN THE DARK. (HOLLYWOOD)

There is a constant hum in your ears, your fingertips vibrating as you force yourself out of the car.

Judging by the sky draped in an ebony black, it’s either extremely late or extremely early, the loud music from the large estate already audible and you haven’t even entered the party yet. Even though Jeongguk had expected to take you in his personal vehicle to the party that would celebrate their first American show of the year, things hadn’t exactly gone to plan; his eyes met yours as soon as you hurried backstage to find him, pleading and frantic and your name on the tip of his tongue, unspoken when Rachel ushers the band out of the venue after an already overstayed welcome. Still, the frequent vibration of your phone under your thigh when you settled travelling with Yoongi and Jimin instead kept your thoughts preoccupied, Jeongguk’s contact practically permanent on your lock screen.

[23:40PM] Jeongguk 🎼: shit !!!!! [23:40PM] Jeongguk 🎼: i wanted to wait but they kept pushing me outside [23:41PM] Jeongguk 🎼: did u get out safe? [23:43PM] You: yep don’t worry !!! [23:43PM] You: we’ll be on our way soon [23:44PM] You: im hungry so we’re getting food first oops [23:45PM] Jeongguk 🎼: ok baby see u soon [23:45PM] Jeongguk 🎼 is typing…

The triple dots are constant.

Bodyguard Joe is the driver who drops you off, muttering under his breath when all three of you pile out the back and he’s free to leave. Before Yoongi can even shut the door properly he is speeding away, desperate to get out of there. Yoongi can’t say he blames him- he’s only staying for a little bit, at least until Jeongguk starts being Jeongguk. He deliberately doesn’t mention it to you. He wants you to see it for yourself.

Inside, it’s hard to see through the smoke. There had only been about fourty minutes difference between Jeongguk arriving there and the three of you, and evidently, they waste no time bringing the party into motion. Already, guests either by invite or chance are drunk, intoxicated with dark beer bottles and shot glasses, a wreckage of splintery glass by the door surrounded by a pair of shoes, like a warning. The lights are dimmed, each room dark save a lamp with a dying bulb or LED lights, flashing rainbow colours to the beats of songs, the smell of alcohol and weed lifting in the air. It’s rancid, strong and pungent but typical of parties you’d expect celebrities within the realm of Jeongguk to do, people who held the world at arms length.

Along the wall, the coat pegs are covered in a bundle of mismatched coats and jackets, a single Converse hanging by its laces as some sort of practical joke. In light of this, you decide to just keep your coat thrown over your shoulders, the black suede comfortable and moreover protective as faces you’ve never even seen before regard you with high interest as you pass. Jimin scowls and drags you closer to him, Yoongi leading the way with a gaze that could kill, parting the sea of dancers like Moses. The vibe, however, remains undisturbed, the bodies continuing to dance and drink as they were before Min Yoongi stepped through the mix, with two virtual nobodies behind him. He knows where he’s going- he’s done this before.

This mansion is a maze, with corridors leading everywhere, filled with bodies you didn’t know. You deduce that the main parlour where you’re headed to is the hub of the party, judging by the way the small groups of people outside become multiplied, the sound of laughter and music louder when you enter through a doorway. The room is soaked in an indigo neon light, the long haul of strip lights attached to the moulding by the ceiling by silver pins; almost all of August Blue accommodate one of the recliner sofas, one particular male suspiciously absent.

“Yoongi!” Faintly over the sound of the music, Namjoon’s voice carries its way to your trio, Yoongi’s attention moving to the band and he moves in that direction, with both Jimin and yourself close on his heels. Namjoon already looks affected by the alcohol stirring in a whiskey glass, the colour clear and making no difference when it sloshes over the side onto the bare skin of his forearms. Exchanging a tight lipped smile with Hoseok, who seats a beautiful girl on his lap who sips her drink quietly, you glance around the room for Jeongguk, your heart sinking when you don’t spot him anywhere.

“Great show,” Yoongi says, now that the music has been turned down somewhat, no thanks to Taehyung who has just stepped out of the bathroom and winced at the volume, now sitting back in his original spot beside Seokjin and his widened legs. As an afterthought, he adds, “as always. This is Jimin, by the way- and you know Y/N.”

Seokjin looks up from his glass: “Hi honey. Good night?”

“Yes, it was amazing,” you reply, your eyes wandering again. A few strangers are seated on the couch alongside the members, including three girls you aren’t familiar with. Two look out of this world, mentally vacant and the third watches you carefully, her lips pouted sourly. “Hello,” you call to her, uncomfortable.

“This is one of Rosanne’s friends, Cassandra,” Seokjin introduces, although he doesn’t sound particularly enthusiastic.

“Cassie,” she throws in.

“Oh, like the song,” you judge, looking back at Seokjin and catching the roll of his eyes before he can hide it away. Concealing a smile you look back at Cassandra.

“Yeah. Isn’t that funny?” she asks, giggling sweetly. “I like to tease Guk about it. It gets him shy. Did you see him on the way in, by the way? I’ve been looking for him.”

Oh. So she’s one of them- it’s evident in the way August Blue glance over at her with annoyance, glancing back at you with a blank stare. You know better. “No, actually. I just got here.”

“Well,” Cassandra-Cassie continues, smiling tightly, the look so ingenuine that it looks as though it hurts her to fake politeness, “if you see him, let him know that I’m looking for him.”

“Does he even know who you are?” Jimin asks before he can stop himself. Cassandra narrows her eyes.

“We met in passing.”

A snort exits Jimin’s nose. “If he remembers you, I’ll genuinely be surprised.”

Whatever is or isn’t said by the rest of the couch is unheard by you; once Jimin has finished his slander of Cassandra-Cassie whilst perched on Yoongi’s knees, you decide you’ve heard enough and pick yourself back up off the couch despite having only just sat down.

Whoever remains at the couch pays you no mind, aside from Yoongi who nods gently as you gesture to the connecting hallway, an arch in the cream smooth wall that no doubt leads to either the outside, the kitchen or a bathroom, perhaps all three at once. His eyes do not leave you until you’ve wormed your way out of the room, quietly and meekly weaving through bodies on the walls and declining at least three drinks offered in your direction. After peering into several rooms, including the kitchen that was far too crowded and scorching to even enter, and glanced out through the french doors to the scattered party outside, looking on the patio glowing in blues and pinks, the pool splashing with laughter.

Even the end bathroom that is larger than the kitchen is practically empty save the guy passed out in the bathtub with a glass of sparkling champagne in a slender glass on the sink, and you suddenly feel very dejected, closing the door behind you as you exit back to the long hallway. Maybe everything was too good to be true- maybe girls like Cassandra were girls Jeongguk had invited, like he had you, suddenly ghosting when they all appeared in the same room. It feels rude to assume that, but with no text messages or indication as to where he might be and with whom, disappointment begins to simmer in your stomach.

It nearly settles, confusing dejection with nausea and the thought of Jeongguk having played you is a thought you ruminate, until you’re halfway down the hall and a door to a connecting room that has now opened welcomes a body cloaked in the bedroom darkness, an arm leaning out to grasp your sleeve and pull you inside.

A strange sense of deja-vu hangs over this situation, familiarity striking with the hand that unwraps from around your arm and meets the second around your waist. Before you have even finished twirling to face the body in ownership of said arms, the sound of quiet chuckling makes you relax instantly, a smile growing when you fall with a soft thud against the torso of Jeongguk, his mouth in level with your eyes.

“Hi, stranger,” you laugh softly, looking up at him with wide eyes. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Jeongguk hums, and you catch a whiff of alcohol practically pouring off him. “Been hidin’. You found me, you win.” Jeongguk does a poor job of attempting to be sober, his speech slurred and his smile cheesy and smirkish. “I was tryna ride with you, but Joon shut the car door and we just drove off, you know?” You honestly don’t, but you nod anyway. “Tried to call you but dunno where my phone’s gone. Think Joon’s got it.”

“That explains why you weren’t replying,” you say, mostly to yourself. Jeongguk inhales the air through his nose quickly, one sniff, and relaxes his arms around your middle; his forearms are resting on your hip bones with his fingers gently stroking and drumming against your lower back, and it is here, with him so close, that you notice the glow of sweat on his hairline, the fringes slightly matted down and smudged black under his eye, glitter shines of his eyebrow piercing. “Got worried about you.”

“You were worried about me?” he repeats, that same smile on his face. Jeongguk sounds so amazed by this fact, so bewildered that you’d care.

Anticipation whirls in the pit of your stomach as his voice drops in volume and hardness, and the school-girl crush swims back to bite when Jeongguk’s forehead bends to press against your own, the taste of alcohol on your tongue before he’s even leaning in to kiss you. Jeongguk’s hands immediately fly to cradle your face, accidentally bringing a fistful of hair to your cheek as he holds you, practically picking your face up to warm to his mouth. It is just one kiss, long and deep and soft, leaving behind the taste of a bitter liquor.

Jeongguk’s eyes open through slits when he pulls away, analysing how you still haven’t come back to reality from it, and so he moves in again, in a body roll motion stealing a second kiss, his lips pressed up against you in full. He doesn’t know if it’s the booze in his veins or the electrifying feeling of your hands over him that has him buzzing all over- it could be both, for all he knew.

Beginning to doubt his own self control when you mumble and sigh into his mouth, Jeongguk gently brings himself away, out of the kiss and sending your eyes open in a daze. Cracking his own eyes open, Jeongguk restrains himself from going right back in- the orange glow from the outdoor lights shine on the left side of your face and his heart leaps, drumming in his ears. He frowns loudly, feeling your thumbs rub against his wrists. “Sorry.”

You pause, “Why?”

“For making you worry,” Jeongguk explains, his voice murmured through pouted lips. “I made the baby worry.”

“The baby?” you repeat, chuckling. He grins. “We’re almost the same age, y’know.”

“The baby,” Jeongguk coos, his giggles indicative of his level of soberness, which seems to be unlikely. “Little nineteen year old baby-”

“Twenty,” you add, and Jeongguk stops with a quiet “huh” that sounds like a baby, ironic. Jeongguk remembers you telling him your age, and that you’d be twenty soon. Had he missed your birthday? As if hearing his internal struggle, you smile softly: “Today is my birthday, actually.”

Truly, Jeongguk doesn’t know what to say. His mouth hangs agape, like the information was sacred. “What…? You didn’t say anything- I could have got you something, done something-”

“This whole day has been a gift,” you stress, cutting him short and calming him down. “Truly. My Mom and Asshole are in the Maldives because that’s more important than me, and so I went out for breakfast with Jimin, skipped my yoga session because treat-yourself-vibes only on my birthday, and then I had the best time at your show and now we’re here. So, honestly-” as you talk, you finger his shirt, wrapping the material around your nail, “-everything has been amazing. This is my gift- you are my gift.”

Jeongguk pouts. “You’re way more important than the Maldives...you wanna go to the Maldives? Shall we go?” Based off the state of things, Jeongguk is a playful, chatty and overall excited drunk, his eyes blown wide with what you hope it just alcohol buzz. “I’ll take you.”

You laugh, gently stroking his jaw and very briefly, before he can get too addicted, kiss him. Before Jeongguk can pucker his lips back for you, you’re back on the ground with your feet flat, shyly smiling at the way he still tries anyway- because you can’t blame a man for trying.

“You like the party?” Jeongguk asks, unconcerned. His hands are back on your back, now, his arms wrapped around you tightly.

“Mm, it’s fun,” you agree. “Will you come out and join all of us? We’re all in the lounge-” you smirk up at him and he raises his brows, “Cassandra is there.”

“Who the fuck’s Cassandra?” questions his voice, and you laugh loudly, surprisingly gleeful.

“Someone else who was looking for you like me,” you tell him, frowning. He hums, interested in this fact and your expression. “Think she likes you.”

Outside the door, someone rattles at the handle, the noise falling short as though they’ve been stopped from entering. Jeongguk seizes the last word with a triumphant smile.

“Don’t worry,” he assures, and your gaze drops to his lips as his teeth drag on the bottom, pulling teasingly. “I’ve got my eye on someone special.”

There had been reasoning behind Yoongi’s decision to not mention Jeongguk’s habits.

For one, it’s none of his business to talk about what Jeongguk does and doesn’t do when under the influence. Secondly, he feels as though he’s not supposed to say, like it’s a secret he’s sworn to keep. Truthfully, Yoongi doesn’t want to give the wrong idea- he doesn’t want the truth to be misunderstood or misinterpreted, and so he stays quiet. Like all other members of August Blue when Jeongguk touches alcohol, he’s quiet. At this stage, there’s nothing he can do but wait for Jeongguk to stop, patient and helpful.

It has to be early hours, now, and if Yoongi’s phone wasn’t dead, he’d check. By this point, the party is on its last legs, the volume of people decreasing dramatically as songs become more slow and sultry, all the lights blood red. It’s about time he and Jimin leave, actually; like always, Seokjin and Taehyung have disappeared into one of their bedrooms on the second floor, and Namjoon is asleep on the couch with his mouth ajar, Hoseok and Roseanne planning to remain present in the hub until the party goes to sleep, because someone needs to clean up, and it sure as hell won’t be anybody else.

Yoongi bids his farewells individually, with Jimin needily clinging to the sleeve of his shirt with the vodka oozing out of his body, his head on a whole other planet. By the time Yoongi makes it to the other side of the room where you are with Jeongguk, he’s worried Jimin might actually fall asleep before they get to the car.

Something interesting has happened. Yoongi slowly moves towards the leftover crowd around Jeongguk and sees your face immediately, worry crossed with affection etched into the look on your face as Jeongguk tightly holds you on his lap, his legs twitching and smile on display. It’s around about this time Yoongi begins to overthink it, letting his gaze drop to your hands holding one of his while his other reaches out to the coffee table, littered with bottles and shot glasses, and most importantly, the puddles of white. He gulps, looking back at you. Surprisingly, you don’t look put off, or disgusted- more so you look sad, as if filled with intense guilt as Jeongguk hugs you, his heart in one place and head in another.

When one of the girls next to Jeongguk pats his arm and Jeongguk looks over, you spare the chance to look back in the direction of Jimin, overwhelmed with relief when you see him losing balance over the shoulder of your cousin. Jeongguk struggles for a second to let you free but he does, and you move towards Yoongi, already expecting his departure.

“You should leave too,” Yoongi says seriously. “Before he gets worse.”

He- you look over your shoulder at Jeongguk. Now, he’s on his knees, his chin on the coffee table as he inches towards a fresh line on the surface. Someone’s credit card sits decorated in the powder and Jeongguk, whilst pressing his finger to one nose, snorts the line without question and with a smile. You look away, facing Yoongi with a dark expression.

“You knew?”

“We all knew,” Yoongi sighs. “This...is moderate.”

Processing what he’s saying, you shake your head stubbornly. “If I leave, then it will get worse. I don’t want to leave him on his own. I wanna be here for him, before it gets worse than what it already is.”

“It will get worse, always does.”

“I don’t care, I’m not leaving him here,” you reason. “Before you tell me I’m not special and I can’t change him, I’m not here to change him. I’m here to support him. I’m gonna stay, make sure he’s okay.”

Yoongi really wants to intervene, warn you against it. People before you have tried, he wants to say. But he doesn’t; he smiles weakly, thinking about how you’re too good for the world and people around you and he brings you in for a hug, kissing the crown of your head.

“Alright. Happy birthday, by the way. Twenty...Hag,” Yoongi mutters before he pulls away. Jimin mirrors the movement, drunkenly giggling in your ear as he pulls away and thuds against Yoongi’s side. Yoongi doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t complain; secretly he likes the clinginess.

“Thanks, Yoongs,” you laugh, standing still until he steers himself and Jimin away from the scene and you’re left with no other option but to retreat back towards Jeongguk, who must be on his third line. The distinct and slightly jarring sound of snorting makes you hurry quicker towards him, until you can reach out and pet his hair, making him look up before he’s even finished the line.

The boyish grin that Jeongguk gives you when he looks up and sees your face is beyond beautiful, and he’s so distracted from the lines that he doesn’t notice or care when the girl next to him, displeased with his lack of attention, finishes it off for him. Doing everything in your power to not cry about how Jeongguk looks, fucked and wrecked with white powder under his nose, you shoot him a smile and smooth your hands down the side of his face.

“‘m pretty,” he mutters. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

Laughter tugs at your throat, little puffs of air through your nose as you bend your head to meet his wandering gaze, wiping the powder from his nose before it kills you to keep looking at it. He sniffs, finding that it tickles, and plops his chin in your lap, hands on your thighs.

“Sleepy?” you ask, petting his curly hair.

“Mm.”

“Mm yes, or…?”

“Mm...comfy,” mutters Jeongguk. Through his hair, he looks up at you. “Can we make-out?”

You snort out a laugh, massaging his scalp. “Oh my God, you are so drunk. Come on, big guy.”

“Wanna stay with you,” Jeongguk says. “Don’t leave.”

“I’m not gonna leave you,” you tell him. “I promise. Look, everyone’s getting ready to leave now, too, I think the party’s pretty much over.”

Jeongguk eyes the room with a half-lidded gaze, furrowing his brows like he doesn’t quite know where he is. “Huh. Everyone left.”

“Mhm.” He starts to reach for the cocaine on the table again and your heart beats with panic. “Hey, I think that’s enough now.”

“Lemme finish,” Jeongguk requests.

“You’ve had enough,” you stress, taking hold of his hand. “Let’s leave it there for tonight, okay, baby?”

Jeongguk’s head snaps towards you. “Baby?”

You nod, affirming. “Yes. Look, oh, I’m so tired-” you pretend to yawn, keeping one eye open to observe his expressions as he smiles childishly.

“You’re faking,” he accuses.

“Nope. I’m so tired, let’s go sleep,” you continue.

Jeongguk continues to smile, occasionally laughing when the sound can get out of his throat. You’re half expecting it to be a waste of time, for him to insist on taking more lines and drinking more booze, but he does neither of these things. Jeongguk nods once and runs his hands across your thighs, taking them in his palms and roughly squeezing, getting to his feet when you tug him up.

Across the box shaped recliner pattern, Cassandra-fucking-Cassie glares up from her seat, alongside several others who stare at you as if you’ve grown another head. Truth be told, and unbeknownst to yourself, Jeongguk has never listened to anybody like he does for you. You have no idea how insane it is to see Jeon Jeongguk following the orders of a girl nobody knows, and honestly, you don’t care. Feeling Jeongguk’s hand slide into yours and the other occasionally reaching to fondle the back of your leg as he searches for you in dark is enough, it’s the only thing you care about.

You don’t really know where you’re going; behind you, Jeongguk is mumbling the way to his bedroom, which appears to be up the grand staircase and on the top floor, where he can pretend he’s above the world. Even with his directions, the path seems unpredictable, his torso occasionally bumping into you when you pause at corners. Eventually, Jeongguk notices where he is and conceals a yawn, his face contorted into sleepiness as he gently pulls you in the direction of his room, unsurprisingly at the end of the corridor, a master. Before he can open the door, Jeongguk yawns loudly, slumping against the doorframe and laughing slowly when you curve around him, reaching for the handle and forcing your way into the room.

Inside, it’s cold, the window propped open and a midnight colour hanging on the walls, silence. Jeongguk doesn’t turn on a light, and he doesn’t want you to either. He still holds onto your hand, or rather your fingers, and leads the way inside. His bedroom is like a hotel suite, a small lobby area of sorts when you walk in with three doors North, East and West, all leading to separate rooms including the main bedroom, bathroom and closet, all his for his own liking. He, of course, heads to the East, in the direction of his bed. It’s equally as cold in there but Jeongguk doesn’t care.

Under his breath, Jeongguk hums something unintelligent, waiting until he’s right by the side of his bed to twirl around. His arms find themselves back around you, lifting you off the ground which elicits a squeal of surprise and falls with a soft pat on top of the bed. Your pelvis is on his abdomen, your face on the bed next to his neck and he holds you tighter, engulfing your smell and warmth. Amongst the drugs and the childlike excitement, Jeongguk is an affectionate drunk around those who matter to him. His exhale of breath akin to a sigh tickles a breeze on your ear, and you struggle to pick your head up and look at his face; he meets you with a titter and puckers his lips, kissing you before you can decline. He grins triumphantly.

“Got it.”

“Mm, you did.”

He laughs again, the kind of laugh that sounds gravelly. He’s so drunk. “Got you.”

Humming, you entertain that thought, reaching your head to peck his jawline. Jeongguk sighs contently, about to move his hands from your waist to your thighs when you shuffle up and away, his brows furrowing with perplexion. “You’ve got me.”

Jeongguk’s head tilts. “Where are you going? Don’t leave.”

“I’m going to use the bathroom, and then I’ll be right back,” you promise him. Jeongguk pouts, emotionally clingy which is unusual, but flops back down onto the bed without vocal protect.

In the time it takes for you to rush to the bathroom, pee out of nervousness and nervously pet your hair and make it look absolutely no different, Jeongguk is knocked out asleep when you re-enter the room. His breaths are quiet, and heavy, his legs hanging off the side with his heels on the floor. The urge to sigh is unreal, but you know he must be tired, more tired than you are. Standing just before him on the bed, you’re uncertain of what to do first, but then you move to pull his feet out of his shoes, quietly tossing them to the side and then hauling his legs up onto the mattress. At some point during the night, he might shuffle- he does, slightly, when his body is on one level, and he sleepily worms his way to the side of the bed closest to the window, the right side, his side.

Half of your heart wants to leave. Maybe the way Jeongguk acted tonight was purely because of things he drank, things he lets into his body. But, subconsciously, you know better; the other half of you begs for you to stay. If Jeongguk changed his mind, it would be one walk out of the door and out of his life, easy and simple.

Instead of thinking about that, you gently toss your jacket to the floor and kick off your own shoes, laying flat next to Jeongguk as he falls deeper into sleep. Even if he wakes up with cold feet tomorrow morning, at least he won’t be alone.

The next morning, it is raining. It doesn’t often rain, and so you can’t help but hear the heavy sound of rain outside the window, no thanks to yourself for forgetting to close it before climbing next to Jeongguk. Speaking of the man, he remains asleep, his head twisted on the pillow facing you with his body flat on his back, one leg up and the other spread out. He looks so peaceful, hopefully at peace with his dreams.

Without waking him up, you roll over off the bed and sink your feet to the floor, silently retreating to the bathroom with your phone in your hand. Surprised by the time, it reads eight fifty am, and you scroll down your notifications which seem to have multiplied unusually. Few are from Instagram but majority are texts, from Yoongi and Jimin, one from your Mom that reads a simple “happy bday” and nothing more.

[03:32AM]: Yoongi 👹: hope ur safe and ok [03:41AM] Yoongi 👹: did u go home?

He sent those at three.

[08:50AM] You: shit sorry [08:50AM] You: was sleeping [08:51AM] You: im still with jeongguk, he passed out and i stayed so he wouldn’t wake up on his own

There is a short silence.

[08:53AM] Yoongi 👹: ok, be safe [08:53AM] Yoongi 👹: jimin says good morning lol

Sitting on top of the closed toilet, you hurriedly reply to the flurry of messages and by the time you’ve finished, ten minutes have passed and it is now nine. Checking over yourself in the mirror and deciding that you could ultimately look a lot worse, you move back into the bedroom, overhearing loudness from the remaining people in the house who had an early start to the day.

Jeongguk stirs slightly, showing signs of being awake. Under his breath he groans, reluctant to confirm his consciousness by keeping his eyes closed, and you slowly reach to put your phone back on the bedside table and clamber on all fours onto the bed. With the weight dipped, Jeongguk huffs, peering open one eye and watching you crawl up to him, knees near his body and hands brushing the long hair out of his eyes.

“Morning, sleepy-head,” you coo, voice quiet because nine is still early.

Jeongguk groans, saying nothing. He shifts, ironing out the cramps in his limbs and sitting up, reaching a hand out for you, grabbing air like a child. Your gaze drops to the way his fingers roll expectantly and you slip your hand into his, taken aback when he tugs you over onto him, your legs over his hips as his arms steady around your waist.

Suddenly he’s very awake, moving your hair back and then kissing you, like he’s been starved of it. It begins gentle, timid, with his hands barely touching you as if he’s expecting you to move away and reject it. You don’t, however; when he pulls back you immediately move back in, twisting your arms around his neck, prompting him to follow by tightening his arms around your body, bringing you flush up against him, hips touching, sex throbbing. Jeongguk groans into your mouth, his hands guiding your body as you make shy movements, barely rolling up against him creating friction he wasn’t aware he needed so badly.

Jeongguk isn’t sure if what he’s doing is okay, and you don’t care. All that seems to matter is having you near him, as close as you can possibly be. Under your shirt, Jeongguk slides his hand up your back until it’s at the back of your neck, his left tight on your hip bone as the guider. He welcomes, no, encourages, your hips rocking against his slowly, teasingly, perfect momentum for the morning with the rain. It is both unnerving and exciting in how Jeongguk remains silent, save his occasional groans into your mouth. 

Once Jeongguk has grown bored of kissing your mouth, satisfied with all he’s done, his mouth departs and moves to your jaw, peppering a line of wet kisses from the underside to your neck. His hands spring away and move to hastily unbutton your shirt, unpopping one at a time as you whimper, feeling the hardness buried in Jeongguk’s jeans begging to be free.

Jeongguk breathes heavily, desperately pulling the buttons undone and undressing your shirt from your body. At first, he barely notices the fact that your bra is missing until the shirt is down to your elbows, sexily like a shawl, and his eyes land on your hardened nipples. Jeongguk half laughs, touching his thumbs on the underside of your breasts.

“Just like that,” he mutters, and you pout through a whimper that brings his eyes up to your own.

“Shut up, there was no way I was sleeping with it on,” you reply, and he hums, it makes sense. Jeongguk doesn’t blame you- why would he? He’s a guy, he likes tits; he likes your tits, smallish and round, big enough for him to hold and fit in his mouth, which he does.

Raising his eyebrows, Jeongguk smirks and brings his mouth to your right tit, his mouth around your nipple and you moan sweetly, your hand raking through his messy bed-curls. Like taking a toothless bite out of a whip of ice cream, Jeongguk’s lips pull around it, his eyes flickering up to observe your expressions- one glance and he immediately feels overwhelmed, a pressure on his crotch, discomfort, the need to be free. His hips stutter and he ruts up against you, two clothed crotches rubbing together, stolen gasps in the morning ambience. Finished with his hands on your tits, Jeongguk fully removes your shirt, balling it up and throwing it across the room, where it lands pathetically on one of the knobs of his drawers.

In one movement, Jeongguk secures his arms around you and hikes himself up onto his feet, squatting and turning so you should fall on your back. Following, he pushes you down into the mattress, your head half on the pillow and this time, his legs on your hips, not an overpowering weight but enough to keep you pinned down. You writhe, your back arching up off the mattress as Jeongguk’s mouth trails down from your face, where he leaves a starting kiss on your lips, down your neck and between your breasts, encouraging the roll of your hips with his hands. Muttered incoherence is all he can hear as he shimmies down, his tongue on your skin, teasingly licking a stripe up across your crotch covered by uncomfortable jeans.

Jimin, that fucker, he’d been right. Skinny jeans truly were the least practical outfit.

Jeongguk straddles himself up, planting his body over you like one would during sex. Humming against your lips, Jeongguk’s teeth pull at your bottom lip, his left hand gripping your leg and positioning it around his waist, your legs parted and his crotch directly hitting yours with every grind. Jeongguk gives nothing away- he stares, unwaveringly and deadpan directly into your eyes, grunting at the faces you pull, the whimpers leaving your lips, your rutting underneath him.

He buckles unexpectedly, pounding you deep into the mattress with a high pitched moan, captured by his mouth as he squeezes your flesh around his hand, holding you to him like letting you go would result in him losing you entirely. Jeongguk’s torn between wanting to cry and scream; in his short, sad, twenty one years of living, he’s not sure he’s ever felt as desperate for another person before. Never craved somebody the way he craves you, never needed somebody the way he needs you. Jeongguk stares into your eyes, opia. For fucks sake- he likes you so much, needs you so much-

“Jeongguk, you up?”

Freeze frame. Namjoon steps into the room, his eyes widening with surprise when he comes through the East and spots your shoes and bra by the door, shirt hanging off the cupboard, and Jeongguk on top of you with his lips on your neck, hands on your waist, leg around his middle and crotch up against his. Over Jeongguk’s bicep, you stare at him, your eyes blown open, but Jeongguk doesn’t seem to stop, or even care. Even when you grip on his bicep to let him know you’re not alone, Jeongguk looks up from your neck and spots Namjoon. A soft exhale leaves his lips and he grunts, unbothered.

“Yeah,” he replies bluntly, biting down on your neck and revelling in the tug he receives in his hair when he does so. Still, Namjoon stands by the door in awe, unsure of what to do or say. Jeongguk pulls away, his face still stuffed in your neck, “you need something, Namjoon?”

“I,” Namjoon says, gathering his thoughts. He clears his throat. “Sejin called...He said he’s going to be round at about eleven ish, so I was, um, coming to see if you wanted breakfast, or…” As he speaks, Jeongguk is selfish, still grinding against you like Namjoon’s not even there. He’s listening though, his ear free to hear as he sucks his mouth on your skin, practising sex against your jeans.

Naturally, Namjoon’s gaze wanders to your breasts when Jeongguk picks himself up slightly, grabbing one with his palm and kissing patterns across your sternum. He gulps, uncomfortable.

“Be down in a minute,” Jeongguk says, shrugs, not really a promise. Namjoon nods, flushing as you moan unexpectedly, your traitor pussy having a mind of its own, controlling the way you think. Namjoon about makes out an arch on the grey comforter and catches your gaze, half-lidded, and he turns away, he’s seen enough.

“Take your time,” Namjoon squeaks out, unsure of whether the flush is for his head or his dick but he’s not sticking around to find out, and hurries out the door and back into the house. Jeongguk’s facade doesn’t fall until he knows for certain that Namjoon has left, which means he waits until the sound of laughter resonates downstairs, meaning Namjoon’s said his piece to the rest of the band likely gathered somewhere, waiting for him.

Planting one final kiss to your breast, Jeongguk groans and picks himself up onto his hands, his torso still over the lower half of your body and his gaze on your chest. It doesn’t move for a moment, staring in silence until he suddenly starts laughing to himself. The tangled mess of hair bounces with his shoulders and his head drops for a few moments, and then he peers up at you with a smile and you can’t contain your own bubbling laughter, scandalised.

“I know I’m a day late,” he breathes, “but.” Jeongguk smiles softly, “Happy birthday, gorgeous.”

“Mmm. Thank you,” you preen. “Best birthday ever.”

This causes Jeongguk to guffaw, laughing under his breath. “Joon enjoyed it too.”

“You’re such a prick, you could have stopped,” you laugh to him, slamming his shoulders gently. Jeongguk grins, shuffling until his ass is on your stomach, straddling with his hands intertwined with yours.

“Yeah,” he agrees, because he could have. “Didn’t feel like it though. Plus, he said you were pretty once. ‘Mnot taking any chances with you.”

You gasp, astounded. “And what if I had thought he was pretty, too?”

“Then I’d cry,” Jeongguk replies simply, considering it a successful quip when you laugh sweetly, your cheek on your shoulder looking up at him like he was God’s angel. He blinks, like he’s processing the information, “thank you for staying. Look, if last night I was fucked up, it’s okay if you’re not cool with that. It can be a lot and I-”

“Jeongguk, I’ll always stay. If you need me, I’ll stay,” you tell him seriously. “I’m here for you, even when it’s difficult. I-” you pause, “I care about you.” It won’t be the last time Jeongguk feels like he has nothing to say to you, and honestly, it’s not the first time either.

Jeongguk looks down at you, his face devoid of a smile now that your words have settled in. When he realises what you’re saying, what that means for him.

“I’m sorry. I’m...a fucking shit show,” Jeongguk says quietly, and he barely moves when you instantly sit up, rising with your palms cupping his face, holding him gently and closely.

“Please don’t say sorry. I’m here, if you need me,” you say to him. “If you want me.”

“I do,” replies Jeongguk. He licks his lips, “of course I do.”

Warmth blossoms in your chest, and it would be easy to kick back, let him keep kissing, stay in the warmth of his bed covers. So suddenly, life feels like it can get better. So suddenly, it feels like everything is going to be okay.

(LOS ANGELES)

Things begin to change quite suddenly.

In the moment, you hardly realise how fast paced life is moving for you, too caught up in the moment, in the thrill of what has become of your life after the show at the Hollywood Palladium. For some reason, you didn’t expect to be an addition to Jeongguk’s life after the party, especially considering August Blue still had several other shows and cities to perform in, meaning the likelihood of seeing him decreased.

He had surprised you, though, by making a considerable effort to frequent DBOY whenever he could before he left for Jersey, alongside the rather spontaneous decision to take you for dinner after your shift, ending with a bang and a kiss and your mother peeking from behind a curtain inside the house when Jeongguk pulled up to drop you home instead of your own flat afterwards. 

As far as you knew, nothing with Jeongguk had especially changed; judging off the lingering smell of nicotine and alcohol when he turned up to get you, and pictures of dark lights and white tables on his private accounts, which only made it harder to say goodbye to him.

There had been a change in pace between Jeongguk and yourself, an establishment of feelings discussed over that afternoon dinner looking out at the ocean. It had been unexpected and impulsive, you still dressed in your lackluster University outfit and Jeongguk in attire that he put on when he woke up in the morning, but everything seemed to feel right.

It hadn’t been much, nothing but him setting the record straight that he wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he wanted to do it- if you would have it, he’d like to be in your life. There was the bump in the road that was his status, his tours and his unspoken struggle with white lines and drunken nights that could be troublesome. Could turn you off, could make you not want him. You laughed at that like it was the funniest and simultaneously the stupidest thing he’d ever said, and maybe it was.

Across the room, Jimin kicks his feet up onto the coffee table despite countless efforts to get him to stop. Now that the late birthday weekend spent with your family had come to a happy end, you were once again welcomed in your shared flat with Jimin; it’s a measly apartment close to campus with an expensive empty third room that you both use as art storage. Next to him on the couch is the greasy pizza box, his fingers pulling a slice off the cardboard. You stand behind the couch, looking at the back of his head, and then look back at your phone. As always, there’s nothing, no notifications besides an Icloud storage backup failure. You sigh, having expected it.

Jimin looks up when the couch dips in weight as you sit next to him, moving the pizza box to his lap rather than your spot. He has the nerve to appear offended, still shoving a slice in his mouth.

“I’ve picked the movie,” he starts.

“Swear on God, if you’ve picked Orphan again, I’m going to beat your ass.”

“It’s the best horror movie to date, come on!” Jimin argues, making zero effort to change the movie once it’s already started. People who didn’t know Jimin would take a look at him and anticipate him to be an angel, questioning why you would ever be annoyed by such a cute face. This- this is why. 

Regardless, all you give Jimin is an eye-roll and decide to quietly accept the fact that your movie night has, once again, become an ode to Orphan. It’s not a problem- if a movie could define and represent a friendship, Orphan could summarize your relationship with Jimin.

The movie plays as far as Esther pushing her sister into the road when disturbance arises. Jimin is the first to stir, hearing the front door to your apartment crack open and a sheepish Yoongi steps inside, a bag of takeout in his left hand and keys in the right. He is, of course, late as always, and you expect he won’t hear the end of it by the time he’s wedged himself into the room; rightly so, Jimin interrogates him on being late as the front door closes, and right as the sound of arguing fills the room a blaring ring from your phone picks up.

It’s sad to admit that you pick up your phone in lightning speed, peering in the light as Jeongguk’s contact fills the screen. The way seeing his name light up on the screen feels like an urgent release, like finding treasure after searching for so long- you haul yourself up off the couch and head back towards the kitchen as the couple shuffle in. Glancing at them as they collapse in laughter to the couch, you smile and answer the call from Jeongguk that never stops ringing.

“Jeongguk,” you say, once you’ve picked up and heard nothing but murmured party ambience over the line. Something crackles, like the movement of clothes, and Jeongguk hums like he’s in a trance. “Can you hear me?”

“Hi baby,” his voice calls. He laughs, lucid, “Y/N, baby. Hi baby.”

“Hi,” you coo in reply. “Where are you, I can barely hear you…?”

“Party!” laughs Jeongguk. “Wrap up party. ‘so funny, you should come.”

A smile ignites. “I can’t, I’m not in that state. Are you having fun? What are you doing?”

For a moment, Jeongguk doesn’t reply. From the sounds of it, he seems otherwise occupied, for in the background the quiet sound of party laughter and glass clinking reminds you of where he is, what he’s doing, what he’ll end up doing. You swallow thickly.

“It’s okay,” Jeongguk says after some time. “Kinda fun.” He waits one second and then says, “can’t hear you. I’m gonna go outside, don’t hang up.”

“I won’t. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jeongguk moves outside, the party tucked behind as he leans against the brickwork of the rented bar used for the party. There’s a payphone on the wall, dripped in neon lights and he stands next to it, his body chilled by the night, leather on his skin.

“What are you doing?” Jeongguk asks, sniffing. That’s the indicator. Something inside of you sinks thinking about what he’s done, how sad it is that he does it to himself and nobody bats an eye.

You throw a glance back across the room; Jimin is settled in Yoongi’s lap, bringing soft laughter out of your cousin as the still frame of Orphan burns the television screen. “It’s movie night, so Jimin and Yoongi came over.”

“Mm yeah?” Jeongguk says. “Fun, sounds so fun, Yoongi said you lived with Jimin.”

“I do,” you reply gently. “When do you come home?”

“Saturday, maybe,” Jeongguk estimates. “Then I’m gonna come see you. Wanna take you out again, can we go out somewhere, I wanna go out.”

You laugh, tucking yourself into the kitchen when Yoongi and Jimin start laughing too loudly. “Course. Just let me know when, I’ll make room for you.”

For a while, Jeongguk doesn’t say anything interesting. In fact, it’s mostly a string of incoherent and confusing sentences, his pout audible as he speaks and at least he’s not making bad decisions, half the reason you haven’t told him to go back to the party. Maybe you’re in it too deep, maybe you have no right being worried about him like that. If his band members didn’t seem to be too worried, and they’ve clearly known him longer, then why should you be so concerned?

“Called you for a reason, you know,” Jeongguk says, after a short breath of silence.

You raise your eyebrows and lean against the doorframe, pulling at your bottom lip with your teeth after asking him why.

Jeongguk sniffs and then drops a deep exhale of breath. “Missed you.” Your heart thuds painfully. “Miss you, miss your voice. You should have come.”

“Maybe next time,” you offer. You’re unsure if telling him that you didn’t come because you don’t know what you are to him is wise at this exact moment, and so you decline to offer him a reason. Not that he asks. “I miss you too. I miss you coming to see me at work, made my day.”

Jeongguk laughs to himself. “I miss it. Coming home on Saturday, can I see you then?”

You pause to think. “Ah...it’s Yoojung’s birthday.” Yoojung is Yoongi’s sister, which Jeongguk remarkably remembers. He frowns, questioning. “There’s a party at her house, I’m obviously going because I’m family.”

“Yoo is a fan of the band, I think,” Jeongguk says. “Maybe I’ll ask Yoonie if I can come, surprise her or something. Wanna see you.”

“You can’t wait an extra day? I think I’m free all day on Sunday,” you offer, but Jeongguk declines.

“Nah. Greedy.”

He sniffs once, curtly and quickly, like inhaling sandpaper. You repress a sigh, not wanting to give away anything that might upset him, and you tuck further into the kitchen to escape the noise of the couple on the couch. It rises in volume, Jimin’s tone calling for you which Jeongguk can surely hear, but clearly cares little for.

“Fair enough,” you reply, smiling. “Are you going to go back in and party?”

For a second, Jeongguk says nothing. Unbeknownst to you, Jeongguk leans against the damp bricks with his chin tucked to his collarbones, gaze hazy and a smile on his lips. The air is cool enough to straighten his head, at least clear his vision from speckles to something clean.

“Just like talking to you,” he mumbles. “I don’t know, I don’t know if I wanna party anymore.”

“Then don’t, baby, it’s okay,” you tell him, trying to avoid eavesdroppers in the living room. “Find Seokjin and leave for the night, hm? Have some rest and then we can see each other when you get back for Saturday, m’kay?”

Jeongguk says nothing, listening in the background to Yoongi and Jimin as they heckle you into living room to finish the movie. He wants to say something, more than anything he has words on his mind, sentences on the tip of his tongue; he doesn’t. His head isn’t clear enough for him to trust himself to speak. So, instead, he takes an inhale of the outside air and glances around at his surroundings, observing the moonlight on the lake nearby and the dark green ferns around the car park.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m gonna go to bed,” he decides to say.

“That’s good. Just let me know when you’re home safe, okay?” you tell him, silencing the duo with a finger to your lips and the couple on the couch suppress giggles of amusement. To them it’s funny. “Okay?”

“Yep. I’ll text,” Jeongguk promises. From behind him, the door to the club opens and you can faintly hear a voice calling him. It’s out of your hands but you hope that it’s Seokjin, or another member of the band. “Miss you.”

You smile, “I miss you too. Get some rest, okay? I’ll see you on Saturday.”

Jeongguk hums. His voice is gone in the wind, too small to speak out.

(HIDDEN HILLS)

“And, you know, don’t get me wrong- I love parties as much as the next person, believe me, but if you can’t have an Iron Man balloon just because your parents are too damn lazy to go across town to Party City to get me one, then is it really a good party?”

Min Yoojung takes a sip from her glass and practically shrivels with distaste. For some or known reason, she had assumed that when you turned eighteen, life would dramatically change and you’d suddenly enjoy the taste of alcohol. Or, at least, that’s what UK TV shows had told her- mind you, she now knows that’s entirely inaccurate.

“I mean, think about it,” she continues with a huff. “Yoongi gets his own private club hired out for his birthday with the members of KISS playing on stage, and I can’t even get a balloon?”

Yoongi sits directly across from her on the patio sofas, a cigarette between his two fingers and a glass of red wine on the small table. He hides a smirk, feigning absolute disinterest as his sister speaks, waiting until she’s finished and looking between yourself and Jimin for some sort of explanation before he speaks.

“It’s because you’re adopted,” he replies smoothly, which only sets her off more.  

To some extent, what she is saying is not flawed. For Yoongi’s eighteenth birthday, he had gotten everything he wanted, things he brought up in passing wrapped up and gifted to him on the morn of March 9th. And, Yoojung is walking proof that the myth of the baby sibling being the favourite is simply not true. Granted, Yoongi’s only the favourite because he’s semi-famous, whereas Yoojung still attends public school and dines in three star restaurants with allowance money she may as well not have. That’s not to say that her birthday sucks; it doesn’t, because the Min’s have money and standards and this party in the backyard might make a headline in some Indie magazine online. Who knows.

It’s leisurely and small, with only few celebrities in attendance not including the Min’s and their relatives. You’re not entirely unfamiliar with the life of stardom- unfortunately, being the step-daughter of Axel Choi therefore meant having a camera in your face once or twice. Even though Axel was no relative of yours, and by no means did he ever have the audacity to assume he could fill the role of your Dad: Axel was an okay guy, protective of his family and by extension, protective of you. You didn’t mind, just one less camera to hide from, one less ugly photograph uploaded online for a bit of money. 

That being said, Axel pulled a few strings and got a few A-Listers to show up, including a KPOP group that Yoojung had liked when she felt like an alien in her own country. Amongst those are some of Yoojung’s friends, who fear sitting near Yoongi because he’s the hot older brother type, and fearful of you who they don’t know, which isn’t any less scary from them knowing you.

“You haven’t done the cake yet, right?”

From behind Yoongi, out comes Wheein, one of his old friends from University. She carefully climbs over the seat to sit next to Jimin, mindful of her glass that sloshes and Yoojung sighs, pressing her chin into the heel of her hand.

“Nope. Yoongi says people haven’t turned up yet, so I don’t know what’s up with that,” Yoojung shrugs. “Honestly-” now she rises slightly, her back straight and finger pointed accusingly, “you fucking planned my whole party. Is this the Yoongi and Co show, or what?”

“Yes,” Yoongi replies, as though it were obvious. He drinks. “Stop complaining and wait, it’ll be worth it.”

Yoojung scoffs, “Yeah right. If Tony Stark doesn’t come to this house dressed in his suit making that suity noise, then consider this birthday over.”

Yoongi pauses. “Okay then, I guess I’ll start sending people back home, because you can’t even get an Iron Man balloon, what makes you think he’s gonna pop round in person?”

Yoojung shrugs, “Poetic cinema?”

“Keep dreaming, cabbage patch baby.”

“Cabbage patch baby?” Jimin laughs. That’s when Yoongi ignores Yoojung’s frustrated groans and launches into an explanation behind the name, which involves Yoongi telling Yoojung when she was little that their Mom found her in a cabbage patch. You’ve heard it before, so you’re not listening when it’s explained. Your gaze instead lifts across the patio, awkwardly catching your mother’s as she looks around for you. 

Her eyes light up when she spots you and immediately she waves you over, not taking no for an answer as those round holes turn into slits faster than you can even mouth the syllable “n”. While Yoongi dives deeper into Yoojung’s misery, you pick yourself up with a sigh and head on over towards your mother.

She stands next to Axel, as well as Yoongi’s parents, and two celebrities you vaguely remember for being present at Yoongi’s birthday many moons ago. You fake a smile, wanting to be polite, wanting it to be over. It seems your arrival had been pre-planned and expected, for your aunt turns to you with wide eyes and brings you by the elbow.

“Y/N. We were just talking about you- you know Maxine, don’t you?”

No. You regard the stranger, subtly looking them up and down and smiling tightly. “Of course! It’s so nice to see you.”

“We were just talking about the arts- classical, of course, because we all know how you turn up your nose at the modern artists of today,” your Aunt says.

“Well, I do like modern art, I just find classicals more interesting to study. More composition, colour, texture...more empathy.”

“Whatever,” your Aunt interrupts. “Maxine has a son who works in the Louvre. He’s looking for junior guides, people to talk arty to visitors and make everything sound nice.”

Maxine smiles to intervene. “Actually, he’s not high enough in the business to request people, but I do know that he’s got an eye for women who like the arts. Miyoung told me that you study it at University level.”

You nod, bored. “Yes, I do. I’m not sure I want to move to Paris for a job, though...so…”

“Oh, no,” Maxine laughs. As she does this, one of Yoongi’s other friends, Jaehyung, creeps up behind you and quietly says hello to your mother and to Axel, half listening when Maxine says, “Duke is actually on pursuit for somebody who can match his artistic background.”

This, of course, makes Jaehyung laugh suddenly. He takes a slice of cake off a nearby tray and takes a bite, moving to walk away as he says, “Y/N doesn’t need help in the dating department, I don’t think.”

You glare at him.

“What does that mean?” your mother asks. “Do you have somebody?”

“No, Mom. Nobody.”

“Sure she does,” Jaehyung winks. “Was all over Instagram.”

“That’s a lie,” you gape.

“Is it?” he shrugs. Is it?

Aunt Miyoung gasps like she’s heard an offensive secret, touching her collarbone as she looks between Jaehyung and yourself. Jaehyung grins, saying nothing and running back to Yoongi before you can slander him. You’re in for it now.

“The boy that dropped you home?” your mother presses.

“You knew about this?” Miyoung asks. “Maxine, I am deeply sorry- I feel foolish.”

“I-Yes,” you tell her finally. Jeongguk, the man in question, might not be what everybody now thinks he is, might not even be what you think he is. “It hasn’t been long, so I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

“And he’s famous?” Axel asks.

You look at him. “Yeah. I guess. You wouldn’t believe he was, but he is.”

Axel raises his eyebrows, by now not in the least surprised by the bitterness in your tone that has been there since your mother first introduced him. He’d probably be more surprised if you didn’t talk to him like that. Regardless, Axel takes it with acquiesce, glancing at your mother for some sort of guidance that she can’t and won’t give to him. It is in this moment that the back gate that leads to a leaky trail next to the spacious garage and past Holly’s doghouse opens, like arms inviting a hug.

The gate needs oiling, screeching to gain attention as it opens and in steps pairs of booted feet. The selection of pauses, gasps and an excited murmur from Yoojung’s friendship group out over by the poolside paints the picture for you, and you don’t feel the need to turn around. Noise alone confirms that the person who opened the gate is the same man in topic of conversation, his eyes dancing around the yard until they land on Yoongi’s father, acknowledgingly and then finally onto Yoojung, who he happens to notice quickly than he does the back of your head.

“Speak of the devil,” your mother starts, recognising him.

Axel hesitates visibly and audibly. “That man. That’s him?”

You purse your lips, taking a peek over your shoulder at Jeongguk. He speaks for himself; his muscles cling underneath a white tee and leather jacket that feels overdressed, paired with faded black jeans decorated with gashes and two zips. Axel only frowns because he’s not dressed like a prep, or a future Doctor like he would have liked for you, hypocrisy. Not even dressed ‘normal’ like boys he sees on the covers of magazines belonging to your step-sister, his own blood, his actual daughter. Jeongguk is dressed for attention, his gaze high over his glasses that you’re unaware he owned.

“It might be,” you reply quietly, and it’s telling enough that Axel sighs, folding his arms.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Miyoung says quickly. “You should have just told us it was Jeongguk.”

“You know him?” asks Axel.

Miyoung nods, sipping her wine. “Sure. He’s been friends with Yoongi for a few years now- we actually cleared him to visit for Yoo’s birthday.” Finally she acknowledges you: “Handsome boy, Y/N. How did you find him? Yoongi?”

“More like he found me,” you muse. “I tried to remain professional, but he kept coming back to visit me at work.”

“Romantic,” your mother sighs honestly.

Yoongi’s father laughs. “Jeongguk has a type.”

You stare at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “The last time he had a girl on his arm he bed her and got rid of her. Funny, actually, you two had the same hair.”

“Hair isn’t a type,” Miyoung snaps.

“I’m just saying,” he continues, shrugging again. “Don’t get your hopes up, honey.”

“So, he’s a player?” Axel grunts.

“No,” you defend quickly. “No. Well- yes, he was. People change when they’ve found the right person to change for.”

Axel chuckles wryly. “And you think you’re the one to change him?”

“Not change him, but I’ll be there for him whenever he needs me,” you nod. “I trust him.”

“I can feel my ears burning.”

Jeongguk’s voice creeps over your shoulder before you can even notice that he has made his way over towards you; the feeling of his chin rested just above your ear makes your body pause and he wraps one arm around you, observing everybody in the huddle. The Min’s consider Jeongguk secondary family, welcoming him with a smile that Axel doesn’t reciprocate, not that Jeongguk gives a shit. For Jeongguk, this is monumentous, the time for him to prove himself to the guy who didn’t believe in him.

Actually, he’s surprised to find that the feeling of worship he felt for Axel as a teenager is still there, now that he’s standing right in front of him. It’s strange, subdued and numbing, but still there and pressing. Jeongguk tries to look anywhere but at Axel, but he can’t help it. Axel doesn’t even remember him, and has the audacity to stare at Jeongguk like it’s his first time, first impression of the guy dating one of his daughters.

Jeongguk pauses his thoughts and thinks back to you- are you dating? Wouldn’t hurt to lie, just to piss of Axel even more. Jeongguk wasn’t an exceptionally smart guy but he wasn’t stupid; it was evident that Axel didn’t like him, obvious from the ugly grimace on his face. He doesn’t care- Jeongguk relishes in his dislike. That gives him power, now.

“Jeongguk,” says Miyoung, smiling wide.

Beside her, your Uncle sips his drink, silent and occasionally glancing between Jeongguk and Axel. Maybe everybody disliked Axel, Jeongguk thinks to himself, as he stares at the pulled crease between your Uncle’s eyebrows. He knows vaguely that you’re related to the Min’s through your mother, and that they, unlike your mother, never got over the death of your Dad. Maybe they too can’t stand the sight of Axel, bragging and sour-faced, acting like a member of the family when in reality, all he is is an imposter, a wolf in sheeps’ clothing, awkward and looking misplaced.

Jeongguk smiles back at Miyoung. “Hi, it’s good to see you. Thanks for having me.”

“Our pleasure,” Miyoung replies. “You’re a punk, y’know- dating our Y/N. None of us had any clue! Why hide such a beauty?”

Jeongguk grins. His arm wrapped around you tightens gently. “Sorry. We didn’t want to rush into making anything public…” He trails off, looking at you. “Get nervous and tell people?”

“Actually, you have Jaehyung to thank for that,” your mother pipes up with a sigh. For the first time, Jeongguk looks at her entirely. She looks nothing like you, too done up with surgery and makeup for him to see a resemblance. Maybe you looked like her before, maybe you favoured your Dad. “I’m Jennifer, Jenny, by the way. It’s lovely to meet you.”

Jeongguk smiles constantly, accepting her tight hug as she welcomes him. “Jeongguk.”

“Y/N doesn’t talk about you,” she says.

“In fairness, I don’t talk about anything,” you add, but she’s not listening. Jeongguk is, though, and his heart tugs. He’s got the situation kind of figured out.

“I don’t blame her,” Jeongguk replies smoothly. “We weren’t sure it was time to make things official- it’s new.”

“And it’s serious?” Axel asks, speaking for the first time.

Jeongguk watches him. “Yes, sir.”

Axel bristles. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m Axel, I’m Y/N’s father.”

“Step father,” you cut in.

“Father,” he repeats. Axel extends a hand outwards for Jeongguk to shake. Even though he hesitates, Jeongguk accepts, firmly shaking it. It’s a good handshake, Axel ought to be impressed. What doesn’t sit right is Axel calling himself your father- something he’s never been given the right to say.

“We actually have met before,” Jeongguk says, and around his arm he feels you tighten, briefly glancing up at him.

All eyes in the huddle are on Axel, including the long forgotten Maxine who watches quietly. “Did we? I don’t remember you.”

“Well, it was a long time ago,” Jeongguk explains with a flat tone. “We were in Busan. You came into my work and bought some cigarettes, I had your opinion on some of my work.”

While Axel thinks about it, your mother gasps happily, clueless and embracing her hands. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Honey, it’s great that you helped this young man.”

Unknowingly, the Min’s writhe on their spots. They know this story. They know the truth- maybe that’s why they dislike Axel the way everybody else does.

“Did I?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk continues, with the same flat tone that makes you shudder. “Yeah. You told me our music was shit and that I’d never make it in the business because I was a Korean boy from Busan with dreams I couldn’t reach. You told me we’d never succeed and that we’d be stuck in Busan flipping burgers and working night shifts at 7-11, and that the only way I’d succeed was if I was American. Dunno if you remember that, but I did.”

Nobody says anything. Not even Axel, who stares coldly.

“Well, we made it,” Jeongguk laughs quietly. “I took your advice and it really helped motivate me to prove you wrong. We’re number one on Billboard and we’re making history as the first all Korean band to top the charts and headline The Governors Ball next year. Not bad for a basement boy from Busan, right?”

Your mother gulps. “That’s really wonderful, Jeongguk, you should be really proud.”

Jeongguk pities her. “Thank-you. We worked hard for it. Now we’re here.”

“And I suppose it will do Y/N some good, being with somebody so successful.” For the first time since Jeongguk’s arrival, Maxine speaks up. She cradles her champagne glass tenderly and examines Jeongguk with her slinted fox-like eyes, as if nursing a different agenda.

“Thank you,” repeats Jeongguk. He tightens his arm around you, obviously enough to create a statement. While it’s mostly to prove to everybody- and himself- that you and him are an item, it’s also to rub extra salt into Axel’s wounds, his face like he’s sucking on a lemon. “Y/N helps keep me driven a lot. I owe her so much already, I’ll make her happy and do her proud. Thanks to Y/N, I don’t think I could be here. I’m here because she suggested it, actually, for Yoojungie.”

“And a good job, too,” Miyoung finally says, trying to avert the tensions. “Else Yoojung would be miserable at her own birthday party.” And everyone laughs, apart from Axel, not that anybody cares. “Jeongguk, shall we start the music up?”

Jeongguk nods. “I’d love to. Thanks, Mom.”

She smiles, walking away to prep. Feeling Axel’s stare cold on your skin, you gently push yourself into Jeongguk, until he’s walking backwards towards the selection of trees where you turn in his arms, looking up at him. Jeongguk smiles honestly for the first time, his heart thumping.

“Hi,” he says gently.

“Well, you know how to make an entrance,” you note thoughtfully. Jeongguk’s eyes rake your own, wordless. “Be careful how you act around Axel. He’s strangely protective.”

“I thought he wasn’t family.”

You frown. “He’s not. But he’s still… you know. Part of the family.”

Jeongguk says nothing at first. “I get it. I do,” he assures with a nod. The next moment, he has his hands on your upper-arms, smoothing. “It’s good to see you, by the way. You look beautiful.”

A smile crosses your face. “It’s good to see you, too. Missed you.”

“I missed you too, we just got off the plane this morning,” Jeongguk explains. Took a nap on the way home and then got dressed and we came straight here.” He pauses playfully: “Do I look okay?”

You laugh girlishly, catching his elbows with your fingers. “You look great. Who knew you wore glasses?”

Jeongguk grins. “They’re fake, I’m a fraud.”

“Of course,” you joke. “Like all rockstars.”

“Hey, don’t bring in my fellow rockers!” Jeongguk laughs too, an unusual sound. “As much as I wanna stand around and stare at you, I need to go and say hi to Yoojung and perform and stuff. It’s kinda why I’m here…”

“LOL,” you say. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Guk. Go, I’ll survive.”

“Okay,” he resists. “But I’ll come back later, yeah? Can’t ignore my girlfriend.” Jeongguk raises his eyebrows mischievously and then, rustles in his pocket whilst speaking, “Oh, wait. Happy-” he checks the time and shows his phone screen to you as he steps backwards, “-ten minute anniversary, babe.”

As Jeongguk steps away, dragging his fingertips along your palms as he steps backwards towards the curved pathway around the pool, a warm feeling simmers in your stomach. Maybe it’s the sunlight shining gold across his skin or the way his smile finally reaches his nostrils, extending wide, his eyes folded into moons- but something about the whole ordeal seems safe, seems gorgeous and heavenly, at the same time domestic. He winks, turns and heads towards the rest of August Blue sheltered around Yoojung and Yoongi, and you’re left with the imprinted image of Jeongguk’s smile on the spot of grass he just stood on, burning, refusing to leave.

[23:39PM] Jeongguk❣️: so i don’t think ur family like me…. [23:39PM] Jeongguk❣️: am i out of the picture now?

The sound of your phone fills the room and pulls you out of the bathroom, which connects to your family bedroom back in the house your family live at currently. Yoojung’s party had ended hours earlier, the grand finale with Jeongguk helping bring out her cake, fireworks on the evening, a hand on your waist.

Rubbing at your wet hair, you sit on the bed and reach for your phone, glossing over the messages, smiling.

[23:40PM] You: hey now [23:40PM] You: i don’t think my family like me either [23:41PM] Jeongguk❣️: wanna run away and be my family? [23:42PM] Y/N: where are we running to? [23:42PM] Jeongguk❣️: idk yet [23:42PM] Jeongguk❣️: somewhere nice [23:43PM] Jeongguk❣️: far away [23:43] You: omg yes [23:44PM] You: kinda wanting to go to hawaii...what are your thoughts on hawaii, gukkie? [23:45PM] Jeongguk❣️: hawaii on a first date? imagine that….. [23:45PM] Jeongguk❣️: u DO dream big [23:45PM] You: i tried [23:46PM] Jeongguk❣️: it’s not exactly hawaii [23:47PM] Jeongguk❣️: but how about a late night rendezvous at olive garden

(At the same time…)

[23:47PM] Jeongguk❣️: omg … as if i just spelt that word right [23:47PM] You: autocorrect, u cant fool me [23:47PM] You: and omg sure…..,,,,,, [23:48PM] You: something tells me ur already here and thats why you’re asking

(A honk outside your window.)

[23:49PM] Jeongguk❣️: 🤪 [23:49PM] You: my hairs wet 🥺 [23:50PM] Jeongguk❣️: i’ll roll down the windows?

(A sigh.)

[23:50PM] You: pls give me five minutes

Jeongguk had been parked up outside, his car hidden half in the shadows by a flickering streetlight, inconspicuous and with the inside lights on. It had taken all but three minutes to find his car, and another three for you to warm up to talking to him inside the car. Slipping into the passenger seat with the sound of Magnetic Moon on the AUX and the shining smile from Jeongguk had been nerve-wracking, perhaps nerve-wracking is even an understatement. Nonetheless, the song had rolled to an end and just before Tiffany could transition into the smooth vocals of Lana, Jeongguk said his first few words beyond “hi”.

Olive Garden was a few miles away from your neighbourhood- small and pushed to the side with a selection of palm trees scattered outside, like a postcard for Malibu. Like most, if not all American’s, you’ve been here before, already have a go-to on the menu. Jeongguk drives into a parking bay near the shrubs and opens the doors for you, pulls out chairs, goes the extra mile ordering wine in advance in a private section of the restaurant that you didn’t know existed. You’ve only ever been here with Yoongi and Yoojung, two celebrities who sometimes have the luxury of leaving the house and not getting immediately noticed.

“What do you wanna do after?”

Jeongguk, halfway through cutting his sirloin steak, glances up with an honestly surprised expression. “You still want to hang out after?”

You shrug, taking a sip of the wine. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because our first date since I got back from tour is at fucking Olive Garden,” Jeongguk states.

“I like Olive Garden…” you mumble, which he hears.

After swallowing a large mouthful, he sends it down with a gulp of wine. “Well, I’m not gonna complain. Shall we go for a drive? You ever been to the beach at night?”

“I live in LA, who hasn’t been to the beach at night?”

“Okay, true,” he replies. “I used to do it all the time in Busan, too. Lived right across the road, could see the sands from my front porch.”

Once dinner is over, and once Jeongguk has quite finished coercing you into sharing an ice-cream sundae with him, Jeongguk takes you up on the invitation to drive to the beach, the night sky like looking into the eyeball of a stuffed animal, the stars like specks of dust on an Afterlight edit. The boulevard is lit up by circular bulbs, tiny attractions for moths, bright like close up stars. Jeongguk drives smoothly, the window slightly down and occasionally his eyes glanced over at you; your hair is messed in the wind, the sound of Kim Petra on the AUX sending your body into little bops, something Jeongguk wants to remember for the rest of his life.

“So much for letting my hair dry.”

Jeongguk laughs from the back of the car, closing the boot and bringing out some spare towels to hand over to you. They’re yellow, like fresh little buttercups, and slightly wrinkled, smelling like faint juice and sea-salt. Regardless, you take the towel off him and begin to quickly rub it against your hair, once again trying to even out the wetness, less than the shower back home, enough to still drip on your arms and legs.

“You splashed me first,” Jeongguk replies, standing outside the door whereas you sit with your legs hanging out, sideways on the backseat. Behind him is the beach, dark and the sound of the ocean lapping like television static, the faint sound of the amusement arcade down the prom. His body is wet too, the ankles of his jeans clinging to his skin with ocean water.

You turn your head to him, smiling. “Guilty.” When he laughs, you continue to speak and bring the towel back down to your lap, “Okay, it’s what they all do in the movies. What else are you supposed to do on a beach at like...midnight. Wait, what time is it?”

“I dunno, like, three?” he guesses.

“No way.”

“Feels like three. Check the front.”

You lean over to check. “It’s definitely not three.”

Jeongguk shrugs boyishly, that same grin creating dimples near his chin. “Not far off. It was a guess.”

“Good for a guess,” you assure. Jeongguk wrangles the towel from your hands politely, wringing it out and throwing it back into the boot. Your hair can dry again in the wind when Jeongguk drives away, the same way it did when he picked you up. He has this theory on his mind as he walks back around to the open door, although the words leave him when he returns, having found that he has nothing at all to say now it’s come down to it.

Jeongguk moves back in, his body shoved between your legs slightly as he moves closer. You gaze up at him, the light behind him making his body glow dark, sighs like whispers in the quiet ambience.

“I really had a lot of fun tonight,” Jeongguk says, like it’s a secret. “Even though this morning your family almost had a heart attack discovering that we were, well, whatever we are...I still had fun.”

You hum in agreement, watching his face as it moves into the light. “Yoojung had the best time. I haven’t seen her that happy since she met Paul Rudd at Disneyland, and that’s seriously impressive.”

Jeongguk laughs quietly. “Paul Rudd.” He almost can’t believe that.

“As for us,” you continue, stress on the ‘us’ which brings Jeongguk’s attention full circle and back entirely onto you in the backseat of his ride, “well...what are we?”

For a few moments, Jeongguk doesn’t say anything. “I have the fantasy and the reality.”

You nod, encouraging, and so he continues. “The fantasy is that we give it a go. We try it, really try. Y/N, with every small inch of my delicate, precious body-” (giggles are delivered by you as he speaks)- “I absolutely adore you. And I never knew I could feel like how I feel with you. I only ever wanted the sex, and even then, I didn’t want it that badly, and then you wandered into my life and everything feels so...so...I don’t even know a word. I just know it feels amazing when I’m with you- I feel amazing. And, of course, the reality is that we’re two sad early twenties rich kids who are pining and don’t know what to do about it.”

And it’s true, it’s so true. The sad reality of it all was that unless either one of you stepped up first, this dynamic of uncertainty would continue on as the norm. Where you were too shy to be bold and make a move, Jeongguk felt too insecure to step up.

“Well, then…” you start, chewing the inside of your cheek, thinking. “How about we try making the fantasy our reality?”

Nothing.

Jeongguk blinks and cocks his head in bewilderment. “Really?” You nod. “You want to?”

“If I didn’t want to, why the hell would I leave my house with wet hair to go eat at Olive Garden and lovingly stroll on a beach at midnight?”

Jeongguk’s eyebrows raise in amusement. “Oh, so it was loving?”

“I was definitely feeling some kind of way,” you confirm.

At long last, Jeongguk smiles wide, shuffling closer. His hands wrap around your face gently, like holding a delicate bird in two palms, and his fingers brush against your ears, tickling the skin, nails fingering your hair.

“That’s good to hear,” he replies, “Great, actually.”

“Yeah?”

Now, Jeongguk hums, his trademark reply for when his eyes are too lost for words to be conjured up to describe how he feels about what he sees. He is, what one might recall to be as “lost for words”. His teeth clip at his bottom lip as he questions what he’ll do next, and for a brief moment you catch his tongue darting out in nervousness as he leans closer, smell of mint on his breath as his lips touch yours, and the heavens open.

Metaphorically and literally, so. As Jeongguk brings you closer to him, his lips still pressed on yours, his heart elevates into subspace, his body light and euphoric. At the same time, the sky grumbles, hungry, and it begins to pour, tiny droplets on the roof of the car and on Jeongguk’s back. He winces, doesn’t pull away, and quickly separates himself from you to squint at the sky.

He sees nothing, because it’s way too dark, but he feels it. Sighing briefly, Jeongguk turns back to you and nods his head upwards, miming for you to shuffle backwards into the car. A rush of something hot creeps down the middle of your body as you do so, feeling Jeongguk’s hand on your calf as he climbs in after you, his ankle caught on the door bringing it to a close, but not fully. The red alarm light is bright and begging for attention but Jeongguk pays it no mind.

Instead, he crawls back to you, eager to pick up what he left. It’s welcomed, warm and inviting, as Jeongguk holds you back closer to him and returns the kiss, hot and open mouthed. Something clicks inside of you, a moment of realisation as Jeongguk sets himself over you, his thighs like a cage and his hair tickling your eyebrows. When this feeling simmers, you grin, something Jeongguk is only mildly surprised about. He doesn’t ask questions, he doesn’t really need to.

In fact, Jeongguk doesn’t really say anything at all; he doesn’t need to, and he actually can’t, given the volume of the rain now it comes down heavier. It’s so loud, almost deafening, which you almost thank out loud for. The rain at least covers up your breathy moans as Jeongguk’s hands wander, pulling at the bottom of your dress and fisting it into a ball, the fabric rising higher.

When Jeongguk finally pulls himself away, it is selfish. He pulls back and sits down, in the middle seat so there’s a window view from every angle, his feet in either footwell. Jeongguk shakes his head and hair out of the way, his hands making their way back to you to bring you up and over into his lap. This time, Jeongguk accepts a kiss from you, his cheeks cupped almost by your hands which gives his hands free reign to smooth across your body, swiftly lifting the bottom half of your dress up, wrapping it like a belt across your hips. If the rain were silent, he’d like to have heard you, heard the way you whimper as the bulk in Jeongguk’s jogging bottoms brushes against your pussy, the fabric of your underwear making it hypersensitive and ten times more exciting.

Jeongguk’s lips widen, his mouth open and inviting for you, accepting tongue when you bring your lips back to his after a short break. His eyes flutter and roll backwards, the tickle of your breath through your nose on his skin as he holds you closer, as if you can get any closer than what you already are. Then, when you quite suddenly bite down onto Jeongguk’s tongue and lips, he groans, pleasured, his hands moving beneath your skirt to grab your ass, lifting you up and down on his very attentive boner.

If Jeongguk or yourself ever thought that the first time you’d have sex would be near the public beach in the back of his car in the middle of a very thunderous rainstorm, you might have laughed, or said there would be more to it. In actual fact, it’s just how it is- Jeongguk shimmies himself out of his bottoms soon enough, reaching into the back side of the car to pull out a condom, since he always has some in case of emergencies, like most guys do. He’d like to not use one, but he knows it’s not safe- he doesn’t know if he’s got something, or if you’ve got something. Either way, he rolls it onto his dick in a record speed and sinks you down onto him all within the same ten seconds, and, yeah- it’s not what he expected to happen, it’s not what anybody expects to happen, but it feels right, feels great. When he’s fucking somebody as good and as lovely as you, he’s not allowed to be picky on the location.

He can’t allow himself to be picky- he knows that he’s wanted you ever since he saw you swirling to Dancer in the Dark, he knows that things are meant to be how they play out. Actually, he doesn’t mind it. He likes the risk of someone seeing, likes the way the windows fog up and how the car rocks slightly, obvious to people outside. Jeongguk relishes in that excitement, crossed with the pleasure and arousal coursing through his body when his attention is pulled out of hit thoughts and back onto you. The rain quietens down and he hears you, feels his hands grip tighter around you and his guided pace quicken, all with a breathy high tone in his ear, occasional breaches of rain and roars of thunder, an orchestral accompanying each of you through the sex, until gushing sounds of rain are what he hears when he sees white in his eyes and over his dick, a melting handprint in the condensation on the window.

[02:34AM] You: def just heard something on my balcony so if i die, pls tell yoongi that it was ME who lost his left airpod and it was also me who stole his signed Nirvana album it’s on my shelf im sorry [02:35AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: um  [02:35AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: wtf….. [02:35AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: u really just gonna die and not leave anything for me???? [02:36AM] You: SSKSSKKSKSKSK [02:36AM] You: u can have my bank account details + contents [02:36AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: !!!!!!!! [02:37AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: omg rip y/n <3 u will be missed omg…..omg cant believe ur dead

All jokes aside, you stare for a long time at your balcony doors, going insane at the sight of nothing at all through the glass and your curtains, slightly see-through to allow the sun in the mornings.

The night burns on your eyes, flashing swirls of colour taking over as you stare for too long at seemingly nothing at all. Quite possibly, it is the wind, or an animal that has climbed onto the balcony from out of one of the trees. It’s happened before- one time, a family of raccoons migrated onto your balcony during the September months of last year, and stayed there for so long that you forgot your balcony had doors. Those same doors are locked, like they always are on a nighttime, but the bedroom window remains open, slightly pushed out to allow in a breeze to circulate the room.

Knowing that it’s probably nothing, you settle back down into bed, drifting back into sleep remarkably fast for somebody previously quite concerned with being killed. This fact is startling- not just to you, but also to Jeongguk, who cocks a leg over your balcony rail and then through your window. What also shocks him was how easy it was to do all of this, now that he’s standing in your bedroom with nothing to say given the fact that you’ve fallen back to sleep.

Jeongguk sighs softly. It’s been about a week and a half since the beach, and the car, and the rain and the first time, but it feels like it’s been months. Jeongguk had to leave for a few days, three at the most, to film some puppy interview for Buzzfeed and continue other solo interviews while the rest of the band settled for a break in their LA residence. Every moment away felt like agony, so painful that Jeongguk found himself back outside your house, surprises stored in emails on his phone.

He steps quietly over towards your bed, wincing when his weight on top of the comforter causes a loud rustle and squeak. Still, you don’t wake, not until Jeongguk lays himself over you with his hands near your shoulders, his voice quiet and murmuring your name, hair tickling your face, lips on skin.

“Wha-Jeongguk?” you ask quietly, your voice groggy. “How’d you get in here…?”

“I think you need security, urgently,” Jeongguk replies quietly. When you roll over onto your back, he smiles gently and wraps hair from out of your face around your ear. “And you need to start locking your windows. You make a robbery look very easy.”

You sigh. “Oh. I thought it was okay.”

“Just be glad your intruder is me and not somebody else,” he says caringly. “Sorry I woke you.”

“No,” you say, rubbing your eyes. “I was awake...and then I closed my eyes for a bit. Hey, was that you out on the balcony?”

Jeongguk grins. “Knew you saw me.”

“I didn’t. Well, I did, but I thought I was being overly paranoid,” you tell him. You yawn away from him, “What time is it, babe?”

Jeongguk purposefully ignores the feeling in his chest. “It’s two fourty.”

You groan. “Are you stopping the night? Get in, I’m tired.”

Jeongguk brings himself down to kiss you once. “No. No, no, you can’t sleep right now. I wanna go out.”

“Now?” you ask, aghast.

“Yeah. Let’s go somewhere.”

“At like three-am?”

“Yeah, sorry, it was the only time I could get it. I wanna take you somewhere special.”

Once Jeongguk is finished speaking, you open your eyes wider and observe him. It’s only then that you notice his clothing; over his upper body, he wears a large oversized grey hoodie, slightly worn out and wrinkled with the drawstring missing, and as always, dark jeans that blend in with the night. A frown worms its way onto your face, your expression unreadable to Jeongguk’s eyes.

“Get it? Get what, babe?” you mutter.

Jeongguk hums, like shrugging.

“Where are we going?” you ask, starting to sit up which forces Jeongguk to roll over on the bed, until his feet swing over the side and hit the floor. He wants to stay quiet for the sake of yourself, considering he’s not looking forward to accidentally waking up your family. You’ve been staying at your parents' place for the entire week, abusing reading week for sleeping in, going out for something to eat, and returning home to watch Glee rather than finish your art assignments. Naturally, Jeongguk doesn’t want the whole family to reject him just because he woke them up at three in the morning to collect you from your room.

“Hm,” Jeongguk starts, straining to hear if anything outside your bedroom catches his ear. He faintly hears the sound of claws across the wood, remembering you once mentioning that your family had a dog. “How about we go to Paris?”

You whip around to look at him, making out his silhouette in the dark. “Paris? Are you fucking with me?”

“Why, what’s wrong with Paris?”

“There is nothing wrong with Paris,” you affirm, gasping. “I just...really? Paris?”

“Yeah. Thought we could stop by The Louvre to see that dude Maxine tried to set you up with.”

You snort quietly, moving to turn on a lamp which brightens the room into shades of orange. “How did you even know about that?”

“I hear things,” he says, shrugging. Jeongguk then shakes his head and looks back at you, making his way to the bottom of the bed. “No. I just really wanna take you out somewhere special.”

“The beach was special to me,” you tell him.

Jeongguk smiles, “Me, too. But...Paris.”

Laughter bubbles at the back of your throat. “Okay. Let’s go to Paris. Why not?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk agrees, laughing also, “why not? Need help packing anything? You won’t need a lot, I can take you out when we get there.”

You pull a face, looking back at Jeongguk. “Wow...our first vacation together and you’re already going to spoil me?”

Jeongguk grins widely, “Well, on our first date I humped you, so I guess we’re pretty unconventional.”

You have nothing to say in reply to that.

(PARIS)

One thing you never thought you’d get the chance to do is take a trip on a private jet, holding up the scheduled flight times of other aircraft at the airport. That changes the second that Jeongguk pulls up outside of LAX, his hand carefully and tightly clamped around your own as he escorts you whilst also being escorted by his own small handful of security right into the large building. Thankfully for him, the airport is empty, occupied by sleeping flyers who wait on hard, metal chairs, the tinny sound of music playing at volume three.

His jet is small, yet luxurious; it’s everything out of a movie set, decorated in mocha creams and whites, clinking glasses of champagne waiting to be swallowed. His pilot knows him by name, and there’s a handpicked air hostess who looks bored and old, her lock screen a picture of her children. Jeongguk smiles at her, even addresses her by name and introduces you with a chirpy tone. The lady looks surprised, covering it up with a tight smile of nervousness. Maybe you’re the only girl Jeongguk’s ever brought on the plane before. Maybe you’re another girl he’s brought on the plane, you don’t know for sure.

After take off, Jeongguk spins in his recliner seat and drums his fingers in his lap. You sit opposite, looking meek, your gaze out the window at the dark clouds and sky. As you continue to fly, the sky opens up, into ombre colours that fascinate. One is looking at the beauty of nature and the other is looking at the beauty of a woman. Neither says a word.

When the plane reaches touch down, the airport is quite bustling and energetic, thankfully again no fans who caught an air of mystery from Jeongguk’s suspicious tweets at one in the morning, when he spontaneously booked tickets without even getting the green flag. Money to waste, risks to take, is what he’d say. Jeongguk helps you carry your small bag to the hired vehicle, an inconspicuous black car with black-out windows. He’s half expecting the vehicle to give him away, but nobody present actually gives a fuck about who is in the car and who isn’t. So, he climbs in without being noticed, his hand in yours, right up until the doors close and you’re hotel bound.

“Fuck, jet-lag.”

Jeongguk dives onto the bed, his back on the duvet and nose tipped up to the ceiling. Presently, you’ve been in Paris for a few hours, staring at the roads below with tired and sleepy eyes, heavy shoulders, a day indoors. Jeongguk’s been to Paris before, quite a few times actually - you haven’t, seeing the city in glimpses outside your balcony. To his right, the bathroom light clicks off and you shuffle out, a towel wrapped around your body as you cross the width of the room.

“Right?” you agree with a small frown. You crouch to pick up a fallen jacket off the back of the chair, tucked underneath the white vanity. “I almost fell asleep in the shower.”

“Yeah? You tired?”

“Exhausted,” you say honestly. “Once I’m dry, I think I might head to bed.”

Jeongguk hums in reply, maybe agreement. He lets you do what you need to do; of course, he takes a peek, because he’s a boy and he can’t help himself. You’re dressing by the window, staring out at the pretty Eiffel Tower who shines, lit up for the evening. The room is dark, dressed in midnight tones, the only light outside and the glow of one of the lamps upon the table top. Jeongguk is so wordlessly in awe that he doesn’t care about not being able to see. He sees your silhouette against the light of the city, curved and beautiful, hidden away by a long button up that you picked out of the wrong suitcase, not that he cares. His cheek is pressed against the pillow and he feels his body lifting up off the bed like he’s levitating. God, his chest is so light, it hurts, he wants to scream, he wants to cry, laugh, smile, leap up and yell. You finish buttoning and turn and he returns to the mattress.

The bed dips as you crawl up onto it, your knees by Jeongguk as you sit next to him on the bed. Instantly, Jeongguk’s hands move to your hair to move it away from your face as you look down at him, one hand on your knee also. On command, the smile on his lips widens softly when you brush away his fringes off his face, humming and then reaching down for a kiss, stealing one from his lips without warning and another off the slope of his chin.

“Paris is pretty,” you tell him. Jeongguk hums. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He shrugs awkwardly. “Sorry it’s not the Maldives, baby.”

“Whatever. Paris is better,” you say. “Our view is gorgeous.”

You look back at the window. Jeongguk does not. “Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

“Must have been expensive as fuck,” you exhale, turning back to him. His hand that was once on your face drops to your back, wandering until it’s found on your ass. It feels nice, you can’t complain.

“Rich kids of LA come to Paris to make noise and take tourist photos by the Eiffel Tower,” Jeongguk replies, joking but sounding serious, which is a talent of his. You laugh, so he knows it’s something you recognise. He laughs too. “It’s actually in Yoongi’s name. Just asked him if I could use it for a weekend away.”

Your brows curve upwards in amusement. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m a fraud, it’s not my apartment,” he sighs, “but, at least we’re here. Like it enough, and I’ll buy us a house here.”

“Are we really there yet?”

“Might be,” Jeongguk theorises. “Wanna try it for a bit longer?”

Nothing is said. Outside, a car honks and you sigh at the same time, through your nose, playing with your fingers with Jeongguk’s locks of hair that grow longer over his face. His head hasn’t moved, still squashed against the pillows, his earrings tangled and most likely stuck to strands of his hair, a difficulty for when he decides to move. He feels your hand on his face again, comforting, and he inhales your familiar scent and knows you’ve come closer by the time you’re there, pressing your lips to his.

It’s fleeting, fast. You pull away right as Jeongguk comes to terms with what you’re doing, and so he follows you up as you move away. He’s sitting up, his hands on your elbows as he moves to kiss you again, finish what you started.

A bar door outside opens and music spills out, just as Jeongguk’s hands move from your elbows to your ribcage, his heart in his throat when you reach up to tenderly hold his face, fingers near his ears on his neck. This is euphoria; your hands drop, Jeongguk moving once more to prod and palm. As he kisses you, his thumbs gently massage around your breasts, in circular motions, soft and cradling and exploring. Into his mouth you groan, quietly, like a vocal moan that lasts for a few seconds before being captured by his lips again. Jeongguk’s left hand claws at your boob, grabbing, reaching up to your neck. Now he’s holding you, his hair in his eyes tickling as he guides you. On your cheek, you feel his thumb grazing, holding you close to him even when you pull apart for a modicum of a second to capture your breath. Quite possibly, he could be sick out of nerves - your hands fall limply to his wrists, then down as his hands hold the damp back of your head. After a little longer, Jeongguk pulls himself away, his eyes half-lidded and yours closed entirely.

He admires what he’s done and what he sees. Once more, he kisses you, dragging it out until he’s moved away again, simply admiring. You’re far from done, though; you pull him back after catching your breath, your eyes now open and slightly fuzzy. Jeongguk smiles, warmly, gently. You might cry. As his hands drop from your head to the top of your shirt, fiddling with his fingers around the buttons, your lip gets caught between your bottom teeth and Jeongguk’s eyes are drawn to the sight. He might make a comment, might not. He decides not to. Instead, he moves back in and bides his hands time to undo your buttons.

The cool silk of your shirt drops as he undos the buttons, sliding like rainwater down your shoulders and arms, until it pools around your elbows. Thankfully for him, Jeongguk’s only in joggers and a button down, something he can easily slip himself out of. You’re wearing next to nothing, now that the shirt’s out of the question; all that decorates underneath is underwear, which Jeongguk doesn’t care for anyway. His hands paw at the shirt, trying to undo the last button without pulling away but it feels impossible. Frustrated, he huffs and moves away, his gaze locked on the final button above your pantline and he flushes when a laugh leaves your lips, something small and delicate and girly. He twitches.

“You, too,” you say, once the shirt is removed and you’re only in underwear, which is next on Jeongguk’s list of things to remove. He looks up with mild surprise, having the audacity to be confused by what you’re talking about. It is only when your fingers curl around the waist of his joggers that he smiles, like an idiot, and hums charmingly.

“Shuffle back for a minute?” Jeongguk asks, and you do, excited and buzzing when Jeongguk quickly pushes the joggers down his thighs. When they bunch around his ankles he kicks furiously, like a child, grunting - and you’re laughing, giggling like a school-girl, drunk on the residue of his lips. Of course, he smiles too, because happiness is a goddamn drug. He inhales with exasperation, muttering “아이씨” under his breath. He finishes it up with a chuckle, a voiceless laugh out of his throat, and then he kisses you again.

Jeongguk eventually ends up lifting you, one arm flush against your waist and his other hand graciously ripping down your underwear, careless and selfish when he hears the fabric tear. Your eyes widen, having heard it too, but you’re too dazed to mention it. The undies are tossed towards the balcony door and Jeongguk settles you back on his lap, for a brief moment. He kisses you again, pulling himself snug against you and then, he lays you down.

“So pretty,” Jeongguk comments, his hands sliding down your sides.

“You can’t even see me,” you say.

Jeongguk shrugs, shuffling down the bed. His elbows pinch into your thighs, locking his arms over them and his chin is on top of your groin. “Don’t need to. I just know.”

You slightly laugh, finding it endearing. Jeongguk chuckles too, pressing a kiss to your stomach and then his hands push up at your calves. With your legs up into arrow shapes, knees to the sky, Jeongguk kindly peels them apart, planting himself right in between.

“Jeongguk,” you breathe his name. He grins, you can feel his mouth extending against your skin. He doesn’t reply.

Situated between two smooth legs, Jeongguk’s head dips and dives. A groan is rasped out of you, followed by a string of moany exhales as Jeongguk’s tongue lays flat, covering every inch of your pussy further with sucks and nips that make your toes curl. Jeongguk’s not done this to you before. He feels slightly anxious, because he wants it to be good for you. He wraps his arms around your thighs, burrowing his head in.

“Mpmf- Jeongguk,” you gasp, your head hiding in the comforter. Jeongguk’s on his stomach, nonchalant. Jeongguk licks everywhere he can, kitten licks that stretch out into long ones, exploring. Your mouth drops. Jeongguk moves one hand away from your leg, his fingers curling up to your pussy to stretch out your labia, one finger lazily brushing against your clit. Each brush is exciting, teasing, sensitive. He hums. He’s heard you. He wants to hear more.

He doesn’t do more, because Jeongguk doesn’t want you to cum yet. He has his fun, feeling your thighs lock around his head and quiver when his fingers swipe on your nub, his tongue inching into your cunt, driving out sounds from your lips. Jeongguk entertains that for a few more minutes, hard and throbbing by the time you’re begging for him to stop, rather than keep going.

When he pulls away, your legs shake, quivering like being left out in the cold for too long. He lays down flat instead, tapping your body for you to make a move when you’re ready, which doesn’t take long. Soon after, he feels the brush of your wetness against his leg as you haul yourself up and onto him, hovering over his middle, your hands on his chest.

Jeongguk cocks his head thoughtfully. “Want to?”

You bite your lip. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Hair falls over your shoulder. “Do you have a condom on you?”

“In my bag, somewhere,” Jeongguk suggests. He glances to the pile of bags near the door, “But it’s so far away. Are you on the pill?”

“No,” you frown. There’s nothing for a minute. “Want to anyway?”

Jeongguk hesitates, “Yeah. Do you?”

“Yeah. I do,” you tell him. Just as you’re about to take his dick in your hand, Jeongguk reaches out to stop you. You look up at him, finding the glimmer in his eyes in the dull light, “what?”

“What if I cum?” Jeongguk asks.

“I’d like you to.”

“What if I cum inside of you?”

A short silence. Jeongguk drums his fingers impatiently against your thigh. “Whatever,” you settle with. His heart trembles when your hand wraps around him. “I’d be a good Mom.”

Jeongguk laughs, then, his other hand joining the other on your waist. “If it happens, I’ll look after both of you. You can be unemployed and pampered if that’s what you want.”

“God, that’s fucking sexy,” you sigh.

He’s kidding, so are you, but the risk is still great. Jeongguk swallows a thick lump down his throat and settles his hands on your hips, embarrassed to be nervous with the build up of you rising up on your knees, planted either side of his waist. A tremor of coldness makes him shudder as your hand touches the base of his dick, hypersensitive without the rubber. For a brief moment, he catches your gaze, slightly hidden away behind fringes of hair that cast over your eyes.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, nervous and rubbing his hands against your skin.

You dip your head. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Mhm. I just - just want it to be good for you,” he confesses. “Don’t want it to hurt you. Don’t want you to regret it.”

“Well, are you clean? I got tested not too long ago, did it before my last pill. I’m clean.”

Jeongguk shifts. “Did it on tour with Hoseok. He was going because of Rosie and I was going because he suggested it for us. I’m good. That sound alright for you?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It sounds perfect for me.”

And so it’s perfect for him, too. Jeongguk questions whether this is right, whether he should stop, but right now he can’t think properly. Not when he can feel himself growing rigid in your grasp, the bristle in his body when you slowly rub your clit across the head of his cock, vibrations. He grunts under his breath, his fingers shaking against your hips. Looking up at Jeongguk once more between your hair, catching the pull of his bottom lip in the scarce light and feeling his body rising beneath you, you shake your head over your shoulders and position yourself. And then you sink.

Paris is a gorgeous city, bustling with life. Across the narrow road, where another small apartment sits with a bay window and a balcony decorated with plants, the lights flicker in strobe patterns, neons bleeding into dulls seeping into pastels. A party, a parade, an applause when the size of Jeongguk adjusts inside of you. He can’t hear you, not over the noise of the party that has suddenly birthed in the moonlight hours. Perhaps Jeongguk is thankful for this, and the way it covers up his noises also.

Jeongguk groans inwards when you clench around him, familiar with the way it feels, remembering the unaccustomed sting and burn. After some time to adjust, you relax, making your first movements up and down, testing the waters, building a rhythm. Jeongguk can’t breathe, his mind paused, his breathing lodged in his throat, his lungs singing. You keep it up, the momentum, finding a pattern in the beat of the music in the background; the bass is your routine, each bump a drop onto Jeongguk’s hips, the brush of his head against your inner walls, euphoric.

“Oh my - fuck,” Jeongguk hisses, his voice barely heard. You catch it though, like a faint whisper, the sound burning your face with embarrassment. His grip tightens, nails digging into your skin as his palms slide from your hips to your ass. He holds like handles of a motorbike, guidance.

You’re slouching, hunched over with your hands on Jeongguk’s chest. He feels a pressure, not sure if it’s your hands pushing down or if it’s his own body, forcing down an orgasm he doesn’t want to have too soon. He sees purple behind you, your dark silhouette cast over him like an angel. With every slap against his body made by your ass, Jeongguk groans, grunts, borderline moans. When he strains to hear your gasps of air something in the background masks them, a sabotage.

“Feel good?” Jeongguk asks. His hands move to your wrists.

You whimper, thoughtless.

“Babe, does it feel good?”

“Mhm.” Your head falls to the side, cheek on your shoulder: “Mhm, feels good.” Something moany comes out of your lips, something muffled and whined. Imploring, spoiled. “Fuck, Jeongguk, that feels so good - keep….keep it like that.”

Jeongguk thinks it over, familiarising himself with his own movements. His grip squeezes around your wrist.

“Like that?” He follows with his body slowly thrusting up, like he would move if he were grinding the air, like inching his hips up under the covers to feel his dick on the duvet.

“Yeah,” you breathe. Even though he can’t see that well, you glance down at him: “can you - can you hold my hands?”

Jeongguk feels his stomach sink and rise, flipping, the butterflies. “Sure, baby.”

When you feel Jeongguk’s hands in your own, you hum to yourself, rising with your fingers interlocked. Jeongguk lets you do what you want with them, obliging when you slightly part his arms, hands locked on either side in the air. You sink, and rise, and sink, and rise, and Jeongguk is lost in the stars. Red, orange, blue, magenta- the rainbow appears as your wings, Jeongguk’s eyes trying to adjust in the dark on your face, on your tits, on the bits that are grainy in his vision. He imagines instead, based off memory of the beach, and the rain. When he feels your cunt clench around him again and your hands slip away to fall back behind you, Jeongguk curses into the air and lifts himself up, his arms wrapped around your middle.

“You feel so good,” Jeongguk says, his lips ghosted over yours now that he’s sitting upright. “Mhm? Hear me? Fuck, you feel so fucking good right now-”

You whimper. Jeongguk seals it up, steals it, captures it with his mouth as he kisses you. His hands are all twisted and searching, one between your shoulder blades and the other on your ass, his mind reeling when you put your palms on his cheeks, absolute bliss. It’s loud, or it would be if he could hear over the sound of the music in the apartment over, and Jeongguk picks up pieces in between the basslines, vocals and harmonies stripped apart so he can find your voice underneath. He pulls his mouth away, latching it to your neck, where your mouth is near his ear, right where he wants it. A hot flush runs up his body when he feels your breath on his ear, hears your needy moans and groans, feels your hands clawing at his back.

“Ugh- umf, Guk, I’m - I’m close,” you pant, his reply a bite to your neck. He sinks his teeth in, like a vampire with dull teeth, and you cry out into his ear. His cock twitches inside of you, the ridges of his cock smearing against your walls. He hums, not sure if you’ll hear it. You don’t. He pulls away and mouths the bite.

“Cum when you want to,” he says sweetly, moving his mouth to your ear briefly before moving back away. His hair is soft against your neck, his head angled to kiss at your skin, covered in a glow.

“What about you?” you ask.

Jeongguk smiles, his teeth present on your skin. “Don’t worry about me. I’m right behind you.”

He nuzzles his face into your neck, his eyes closed serenely as he holds you tight, holds you as you bounce up and down for the finale. Above him, your body trembles.

“Tired,” you laugh breathlessly, and Jeongguk makes a confused noise, like he hasn’t quite heard you correctly. After no reply, he sniffs, collecting you in his arms to hold you tighter than before, using his energy to move you. You may as well be paralysed, a fucktoy for him as he bounces you up and down, basking in the moans in his ear, pornographic and nasty and lewd and heard over the music that has changed tempo.

“Ah!” Jeongguk grunts into your ear with every slam onto his dick, feeling his body seize up in warning. “Gonna - I might…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. You’re not listening to it. All you can focus on is the feeling in your stomach, pressing your nails into Jeongguk’s skin.

Jeongguk saves his own release for later. He focuses, instead, on you and making you feel good, slowing himself down in the race so that you can come first. His lips press back to yours, tongue hot, and he stops bouncing you. One arm is tight around your waist and the other snakes to the front of your body, between your legs where around your thighs he finds your clit, rubbing with his thumb. He can feel your body tense and dither over him, a tightness clenching around him as you squirm, Jeongguk’s hips tiredly thrusting upwards in a slow and steady rhythm.

“Ah - Jeongguk,” you cry, words sinking into his mouth. “Baby-”

With one final flick upwards, Jeongguk lets out a throat-forced grunt into your mouth right as the pot spills, and down the length of Jeongguk’s dick trickles white. You can’t see, it’s dark and blurry, and everything feels numb. It’s nothing like the beach, which was sweet and tender and a rainy haze. This time, it’s a burning that feels dull until it races up your body, like hot goosebumps, until it washes over your body like the drop from the tallest roller coaster. Jeongguk milks it up, his own hands shaking as he grunts wordlessly, until he stutters, his toes curling.

“Umf- babe,” he pants. He moves his hands, you’re attempting to move for him but you feel stuck. Instead you clench, hard and soft, Jeongguk squirms. “Gonna- I’m-” He’s silent. One moment, you hear the laughter and a cork pop outside, and the next moment, Jeongguk’s moans are in your ear, his hands rubbing up your thighs as he moves twice upwards, as if storing his cum in safe spots inside. And then, as if on cue, he pulls out, stuffing his hand where his dick was to feel the cum drip out, like a melting ice-cream.

On his forehead he feels your lips parted and breathing and he fiddles his fingers around, non-sexually, curious. The cum stains his fingers, dressing them, and he laughs from his chest, lost of breath.

Jeongguk sighs, slotting his fingers into your mouth quite suddenly. He can barely see you, the light is still dim behind you but it’s enough for him to make it out, the grain obtrusive. He feels your lips close around his fingers and your tongue on his fingertips, a dazed smile across his face.

He sighs again. “Shit. You’re incredible.”

With a wet sound, he moves his fingers out. Despite cumming, his dick is still semi-hard, on it’s way out. Jeongguk preens when your arms wrap around his neck, his mouth needily on yours for a brief kiss. “So good.”

“Yeah?” you ask quietly.

“The best,” he confirms. “Where’ve you been all my life, hm?”

You laugh through your nose, quiet. “Wasting money at Uni and working for my cousin.” He laughs too, a small one that makes him sound small. You play with the hair at the back of his head, “Sorry for making you wait so long.”

He shrugs. “Was worth it. You’re worth the wait.”

You hum in reply, too tired to move.

“Sticky,” you say with a frown.

Jeongguk’s arms tighten around you, acknowledging your words. “And you just got clean.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll shower in the morning.”

After a short while of sitting there, you slowly untangle your arms from around him. Jeongguk has the nerve to be confused, a small hum in question as you climb off him.

“Where you going?” he asks.

“I’m going to pee,” you reply. “To be safe.”

“Oh. Okay, pee on.”

“Sorry,” you say. Leaning up to kiss his lips, Jeongguk smiles into it and all the while as you move to hurry towards the bathroom. The sound of the toilet seat being lifted, and a slight squeak from the toilet that Yoongi desperately needs to consider replacing, and then Jeongguk settles down onto the bed with a happy sigh. His chest rises and falls as the party goes on outside, fireworks behind the Eiffel Tower.

He could get used to this.

Something wakes you up with the sunrise, twisting into soft orange colours that stretch across the agriculture of Paris. It barely lights up the city, enough for shadows to still be drawn across the mocha coloured buildings, the stone still cold in the shade. You wriggle inside the sheets slightly, discomfort between your legs and very slowly, your eyes adjust to the slight light brewing in the bedroom.

The patio doors leading out onto the small balcony are drawn open, the see-through curtains swaying like slow hips in the wind. Beside you, the bed is cold, untucked and open where Jeongguk has climbed out. Mentioning Jeongguk, you notice that he sits on the end of the bed, facing the sunrise and the Eiffel Tower with a notebook in his hand. The pages are folded over the spine, bulking it up, and he taps a pen against his ear quietly. The sound is all you can hear alongside the early-rising birds, a car honk outside and the next door neighbours hanging out of their window with chocolate bread and strong coffee.

“Mmm. Guk?”

Your voice is slightly hoarse, bedirdden, and Jeongguk manages to hear it as he turns his head over his shoulder. A smile dawns on his face and he shifts, one hand on the bed and the book closing shut on its own. “Hey, baby. Sorry, did I wake you up?”

You yawn, rubbing your eyes. Some mascara rubs off onto your hand. “No, you’re okay.” He doesn’t say anything at first, there’s no competition for the next word. When your vision finally settles onto a visible image, you see Jeongguk’s face and the book in his lap. “What are you doing…? Wait, what time is it…”

“It’s about five thirty,” Jeongguk estimates, although he’s not sure. He’s actually not far off, it’s five fourty one. “And, um...not much.” For a moment, Jeongguk sounds bashful. He shrugs, hiding the book and smiling at you. “You can go back to sleep if you want. I’ll be quiet.”

“Kinda hungry,” you admit. You inhale the air, “Oh my God, those fuckers next door have coffee.”

“Chocolate bread, too. Caught a glimpse when I opened the doors.”

You groan. “What the fuck…”

Jeongguk laughs, genuinely. His head turns back towards the Eiffel Tower, in awe, and after a few minutes of nothing but morning silence, you sigh and clamber over the sheets. They’re cold, crisp and wrinkled, and Jeongguk looks up at the noise. He frowns, only because you’re wearing barely anything.

“You’re gonna get cold,” Jeongguk points out, his hands reaching for the bed throw that had been kicked onto the floor during the night. “Want me to close the window?”

“No, it’s pretty.”

“It’s cold, though.”

You push your face onto Jeongguk’s shoulder blade. “Whatever.”

He chuckles, resigning from the conversation. You’ll win anyway. A tiny bird lands on the patio rails, and you inhale the morning air, planting a kiss on Jeongguk’s shoulder.

“You sure you’re okay?”

This makes Jeongguk look up. His eyes wear confusion and adoration, round and searching as he looks over his shoulder. “Yeah. Why, why wouldn’t they be?”

“I worry about you, ‘s all,” you reply quietly. “All the time.”

Jeongguk’s heart breaks.

“I’m...I’m good,” he replies honestly. “Really good. I haven’t been doing this great in...well...I don’t know, forever? Call it cringey, or whatever, but having you in my life...Fuck, it’s changed everything.”

You gaze up at him. “You’ve made a pretty big difference in my life, too, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m here for you. Always.”

Jeongguk doesn’t miss a beat- his hand wraps to stroke your hair, curled from the shower earlier, pressing a little kiss to your nose. He nods, and his hair brushes against your face. “Yeah.” He nods, confident, “Yeah. Actually- LOL,” he laughs, “I. Um, I wrote something.”

“Oh? Yeah, what did you write?”

He reopens the book. The pages are littered with lines of writing, alongside small doodles in the margins, words like arrows shooting across the lines. His hands flip to a page that has the corner marked down, the numbers “23” in bold outline at the top of the page. You inhale, nervous, your eyes lazily looking at the lines.

“Just a song,” Jeongguk explains. “Woke up, looked over at you, just got the idea. I had to write it down as soon as I thought about it. Got the melody and stuff worked out, just need to make a note and tell the guys when I get back.”

You hum, genuinely enthralled. You quickly look at him, “Can I hear some?”

If it were light enough, you might have caught a blush across his face. He clears his throat, shy.

“I’m fadin’ away off some kind of drug, maybe it’s lust, maybe it’s love,” his voice is quiet, almost as if speaking the words is something wrong, “I know I said I’d straighten a week ago, I feelin’ though, bout to reach my peak, you know. This city’s got me fallin, now, I’m fading away, I’m losing my head…” He mutters the lyrics, singing quietly. As he skims over what he’s got scribbled down, you can feel your heart thudding, soaring, feeling numb and soft and warm and everything else.

“It’s about you, called 23,” Jeongguk says. At some point, you’ve missed the rest of the lyrics, intent on gazing at Jeongguk like he is God’s angel sent down from Heaven. He is so beautiful, so kind and pure. “Sound okay?”

You nod, and maybe Jeongguk sees tears pearling in your eyes. “Yeah. Fuck- it sounds beautiful, Guk.”

A smile immediately reaches across Jeongguk’s face. It lights up the room better than the sun, now reaching higher into the sky. “You’re beautiful. I wanna make you so happy.”

“You do make me happy.”

“Yeah?” he asks, laughing, his eyes turned into moons. “Well...Look. I’ve never had to ask anyone, so it’s awkward as fuck right now, but...like…” He laughs, and you do too, because you know it’s coming, “Do you, like...wanna be my girl?”

“Your girl?”

He laughs louder. “Fine - my girlfriend! Y/N L/N, the light of my small and sad life, will you please be my girlfriend?”

Once your laughter has calmed down, and Jeongguk’s hand tiredly slips from your hair down to the bed next to your own, you really, honestly look at Jeongguk. Above everything else, you can’t quite believe that you are here with him; with somebody you never thought you had a chance with, with somebody who you would do absolutely anything for. The way you presently feel about Jeongguk is overwhelming and dangerous, so strong that sometimes you feel afraid by it. You bite your bottom lip, amusing the idea of actually thinking about it, and then you nod.

“Sure. Of course,” you agree, kissing his shoulder. His head follows you, his breath on the bare skin of your shoulders as he ducks his head to kiss the side of yours. “You’ve got me.”

Jeongguk feels like he could quite honestly burst into tears. “I’ve got you.”

(“I’m not 23 though,” you say to him once the love has died down. He cracks a smile and pushes you back onto the bed, returning to look at the Eiffel Tower.)

part two (final)

#pHEW #yoonkooknetwork #ggukienet #jeon jungkook #bts #bangtan #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jjk #jeon jeongguk #jeongguk smut #jeongguk x reader #bts smut #bts imagine #bangtan imagine #bts scenario #jeongguk scenario #jungkook scenario #jungkook series #bts series #rockstar bts #jungkook #jeongguk #bighit #bts au #rockstar jeongguk #rockstar jungkook #gwoongi #tw: alcohol

[bakugou-tm]

How the Tables Have Turned // Bakugou x American Reader

(Dis is just a short lil one shot that popped into my head while I was in New York. I had modeling on the mind and I was like... Bakugou’s parents are fashion designers bro 😳 So here you are lovelies)

Rating: S for Bakugou is a little Shit

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You would think a new student, let alone a foreign exchange student, would be a huge ball of nervousness after moving from American to Japan to attend a hero school.

But not you.

Of course you did have a few years of modeling under your belt, so having the persona of confidence and elegance was in your job title. Though you would never care to admit, you were fairly nervous when you arrived in Japan.

You only knew enough Japan to get you by since you had a few runway shows in the country, not to mention your quirk was practically new to you since you were a new bloomer.

Honestly you preferred to stay back at home with your parents so you could finish your modeling career, but your family and modeling agent decided it was best you learn to control your quirk before you get back into the business.

At the very least you were transferred to a mother agency in Japan, so you could at least continue modeling. It was just you would continue in a foreign country, with foreign people, and foreign quirks.

Even with this in mind, you held your head high. If there’s one thing you learned as a model: you fake it till you make it. Then when you make it? Own it. 

And that’s exactly what you did.

By just the second week you were well acquainted with your classmates and teachers. Slowly you began to adjust and the culture shock wore off, and eventually you realized that coming here may have been a good thing. You were able to control your quirk better and make new friends that related to your problems.

Not to mention, in just a weeks time you were able to meet with the industry’s biggest fashion designers and get a private photoshoot with them for a local magazine.

So in short, you felt like a goddess walking into U.A. that morning.

You were never one to brag about being a model, never mistaking confidence for cockiness. But you had to admit, seeing everyone gawking down at the magazine your face was plastered all over felt pretty damn good. 

As expected when you walked into your classroom, you were bombarded with people and questions.

“(L/n) you’re on the cover of (magazine)!” Ochako said with awe as she pointed to your posing figure on the thick magazine.

“I didn’t know you were a model! But honestly it all makes sense now, I always knew you were sent from heaven.” Kaminari said with a wink, causing you to internally cringe at the flirtatious move.

Even with all the questions and compliments, your eyes still scanned the crowd to find a certain messy tuft of ash blond hair. Unfortunately, you came up empty handed. As you brushed by the people to your seat, a small frown curved at your lips as you saw the young brute sitting at his desk with his signature scowl.

Ever since you came to U.A., you were captivated by the young boy. Sure he was a ticking time bomb, but there was more to him and you knew it. Beyond his charming boyish features and sailors mouth, there was a determined boy that you grew a liking to.

Unfortunate for you, he barely ever spared a glance to you. Honestly, you didn’t even know his name. Even then you refused to let anyone see your true emotions, so pushing your feelings back you continued to stride to your desk, giving him a teasing grin.

“Do you have any compliments for me sparky?” You purred, your eyes sparkling with devious intent as you looked his figure up and down.

Oh how the ash blond hated how you did this. How you were able to not only walk up to his menacing figure with no trace of fear written on your face, but taunt him while you were at it. 

It didn’t help that you looked like an angel from heaven either, your unique features captivating him the day you showed up. But like hell he would admit that. 

“You shut the hell up cover girl.” Bakugou snapped with a sharp glare, his eyes widening slightly when a smooth giggle escaped those perfect lips of yours before you sat down in your seat next to him.

Bakugou hated that he felt heat rising to his cheeks. He hated that he knew he looked like a blushing mess right now. He hated that you were able to make him like this. And what he hated most of all, is that he could do nothing about it.

But oblivious to the furiously flushing boy besides you, you sat down gracefully before looking up to your classmates who surrounded you with expectant expressions.

“Yeah I guess I am on the cover aren’t I?” You said with another grin before looking the cover over to bring back memories of the day, “My first photoshoot in Japan, it really was magical.”

The day was a dream come true, all alone with Japan’s greatest designers and photographers. You felt back in your element, and it really helped this new place feeling like home.

“I love your outfit, who designed it? Do you have it? If so can I please borrow it?” Mina said with a grin causing you to laugh. 

“I was indeed allowed to keep the outfit, but only because the designers were so nice.” You said with a smile before winking to Mina, “And tell me the occasion and the outfit is all yours.”

A triumphant squeal escaped from Mina as the girls laughed while Momo moved closer to ask a question of her own.

“Did Chisato Tsumori design the look? My parents are good friends with her, the designs look similar.” Momo explained, analyzing the cover intently before looking to you.

Eyes widening slightly at her knowledge of fashion you shook your head, “No no, she didn’t design my look though I do love her work.”

Momo nodded in understanding as you continued.

“Actually the Bakugou’s designed my wardrobe.”

At this all chattering silenced, every eye was on you now. Including a pair of vermillion ones that you didn’t seem to notice.

“The B..Bakugou’s?” Midoriya muttered, but you didn’t seem to pay any notice as you reconciled on the wonderful time you had with them.

“Yup! And they were so nice, I’ve never met fashion designers that were married! And they live right here in Musutafu can you believe it?”

You kept your head high and smiled as you spoke, completly oblivious to the half horrified, half shocked class staring at you in bewilderment.

“The husband was so kind and made sure I wasn’t thirsty or tired, and I’m practically best friends with the wife now she’s great!” You said with a grin while chuckling in remembrance, “She gossiped to me about everything including her apparently bratty son, she said she would hook us up on a date because she thinks I would make him a better person, can you believe it?”

It wasn’t until you let out a snort as you revealed what Mrs. Bakugou said and the sound of a pencil snapping that you realized, something was off here.

Blinking owlishly, you glanced over to see the ash blond besides you fuming, literally. His fists were clenched, smoke fizzing out of one while the other held the broken half of a pencil. His glare was harsh on you, but for some reason his anger didn’t exactly seem directed at you.

“What’s his deal?” You asked sheepishly with a chuckle, turning back to your classmates till you noticed their own expressions.

“G..Guys? What’s wrong? Did I say something-”

You weren’t able to finish before Kirishima snorted before you, his symptathetic eyes glancing down at you as he folded his arms.

“(L/n)...” Kirishima started with a toothy grin, his eyes flicking to a raging Bakugou before glancing back to you, “The Bakugou’s are his parents.”

When Kirishima nodded towards the ash blond beside you, all of a sudden you felt your body freeze. You couldn’t even bare look him in the eyes, especially after what you said. Suddenly it was all making sense...

The wild ash blond hair, the unforgettable vermillion eyes, the explosive personalities... how did you not see it?!

“Y..You’re Katsuki...” You whispered, eyes slowly rising up to Bakugou’s who’s expression seemed to calm down slightly at hearing his name, “Bakugou Katsuki.”

Bakugou wasn’t really sure what to think in this moment. At first he was obviously furious. How could his mom say that? Though deep down he knew that was something his mom would do and say, and even deeper down he knew she was right. But to a stranger? She was going to send him on a blind date? The thought of a blind date alone made his heart pump wildly with embarrassment, but now that he imagined a date with you?

No. He couldn’t get embarrassed yet again, he hated blushing in front of others, let alone showing emotion. It was then that he realized that for the first time this entire week, you were blushing.

Those adorable (s/c) cheeks of yours were slowly but surely turning the color of Kirishima’s hair, all signs of embarrassment flooding to your features. And did he hear you stutter? The great all confident (L/n) (F/n)? 

Oh this was gold, and he was gonna milk the hell out of it. Anything to get attention off him.

Slowly his scowl turned into a smirk, a puff of air escaping his lips coming out as a cocky scoff.

“That’s the name and don’t fucking forget it,” Bakugou sneered before leaning closer to you, his elbows falling on his knees so he could bring his head just beside your flushing face.

“Can’t wait for our date cherry face.”

And with that he stood grabbed his bag, stood up, and brushed through the crowd of shocked students leaving the room with an ultimate victory.

Meanwhile you remained shocked, this feeling new to you as so many thoughts swarmed around your head.

He was the son your designer was setting you up with? You should be excited! You finally got to meet this boy that captivated you so much. But now.. there was a new feeling you associated with this boy. Nervousness.

You were never nervous, never! You were always confident, and elegant. But now.. you didn’t know what to think. What to do. What to say?

What had this boy done to you?

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #my hero academia #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #boku no hero academia #heres my cocky little shit #bakugous parents #mitsuki and bakugou are the same damn person #but i love them both #bnha oneshot #e n j o y

[oceanera12]

Winter Soldier!Steve

I don’t see enough of this AU

And when I do it is ALWAYS Stucky So let’s take a different route on this bad boy, shall we?

First movie follows the same story line up to the train section.

Don’t know how and don’t think too hard about it because AU but somehow Steve is the one thrown from the train, not Bucky--

BUT

Bucky isn’t Steve. Because when Bucky “dies” Steve breaks down and cries. 

When Steve “dies” Bucky stares at the point where his friend fell in shock as he realizes he’s failed his friend. His stupid, punk, friend who survived getting beaten in back alley’s, illness inducing winters, allergies, the deaths of both parents, and a freaking government science experiment. His friend is gone and all he has left of him is a metal frisbee.

Yes, he is sad. But he is mostly ticked.

Zola is found by Barnes before the other Commando’s because Barnes rips off the flipping door, grabs Zola around the neck and starts choking him (and almost kills him), but the Commando’s manage to snap him out of his death rage and Zola is taken in (albeit very afraid and very bruised)

After some “interrogation” Zola admits to Barnes having a variant of a super soldier serum from his time experimenting on the soldier. Stark looks into it, confirms the fact, and suddenly Barnes finds himself in charge of the Commandos and is given Steve’s shield.

He agrees to do it on ONE condition. In the public reports of the incident, Captain America is still Steve Rogers and will always be Steve. If anyone asks, Bucky died on that train, not Steve because gosh darn it, Bucky is not going to let his friend fade into the background again.

Bucky and Peggy have a friendship and an understanding between them. Whatever happens next is for that little guy in Brooklyn.

Bucky makes a very ruthless Captain America. He does his job with efficiency and speed. The Commando’s back him up whole heartedly.

The movie plays out pretty much the same with the Red Skull fight and Bucky getting on the plane (he doesn’t kiss Peggy, geez), and then going to crash the ship in the ocean.

The radio call is different. In the call, Bucky makes Peggy swear to tell the public it was Steve in the plane. This was Steve saving the world, not James Barnes. “Because that kid saved me before he saved anyone else.”

Then he asks Peggy to tell him about how she first met his punk brother. She obliges, tears running down her face. She doesn’t know when Barnes was cut off but by the time she was done the radio had gone dead.

Seventy years later, SHIELD pulls out a frozen Captain America. Most everyone is confused when the man is brown haired, not blonde, and upon closer inspection they find whoever this is, it is NOT Steven Rogers.

Fury pulls up the redacted reports and very old, very disclosed files before finding the truth about Captain Rogers and that the person they have found is Sergeant James Barnes.

James doesn’t bolt out of the hospital room SHIELD staged. He points out the inconsistencies, the radio game being wrong, etc, then sits down and basically asks when they are going to start torturing him for information.

Fury comes in, tells him he’s been frozen and when Bucky doesn’t believe him, Fury takes him on a tour around New York City.

Bucky requests if they release anything on Captain America being found, to say it was Steven Rogers, who is now being very recluse and does not want any attention.

Avenger’s plays out slightly different. 

For one, Tony and Bucky don’t butt heads as much. Actually, Tony thinks Bucky is Steve Rogers at first (he still really doesn’t like Steve because of how his Dad talked about him) and is extremely confused when James takes off the mask and introduces himself as Sergeant James Barnes. Then Tony backpedals on that information and does his own research on it. Tony’s the one who finds the SHIELD weapons, James is angry at Fury and actually sides with Tony

For another thing, Bucky doesn’t get along with Thor very well. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s a stupid blonde but it’s just bad memories.

Nat and Bruce are fine with James, as is Clint when he comes around.

Everyone beats up the aliens and Loki and it’s a win, win.

In between movies, Bucky hangs out with Tony to catch up on modern day (because Tony really likes watching him be confused/learning pop culture and James needs it because what are these references?) Bucky tells Tony about the “real” Steve. The kid before the shield. I wouldn’t say Tony loves Rogers now, but he definitely understands him better and has a little more sympathy for the guy.

This is important because Winter Soldier is up

Bucky meets Sam while running. Sam doesn’t know who he is at first until they are introduced, then kind of confused because isn’t Barnes dead? But he doesn’t bring it up and leaves it at that because this guy is clearly suffering from PTSD and a soldier not used to being home.

Mission with Black Widow, goes to see the giant battleships in the sky, and Bucky isn’t Steve. But he also knows this is a bit much/extreme for a constant military station so he doesn’t support the project because, yes there are aliens. So why are we looking at threats on the planet and not in space???

Bucky calls Tony and chats with him for a bit about it (he feels uncomfortable talking to Peggy because it’s not fair that Steve doesn’t get to see her). Tony points out the pros and cons of the project and cracks some jokes. Overall, not extremely helpful but helps clear Bucky’s head a little.

Nick is attacked, runs to Bucky, Nick is “killed” and Bucky chases after the killer. Similar roof scene (*note: I don’t know if Steve has the metal arm. If he does, I’m thinking it’s the right arm, not the left. Don’t know why, just think it should be that way if it is) and Winter Soldier vanishes

Okay, so-- Fury says to not trust anyone. And Bucky sure as heck doesn’t trust Pierce. But I feel like Barnes is more trusting than Steve (I’m serious, the Winter Soldier experience just threw that trait out the window). So Barnes trusts Widow enough to actually leave her with the drive and not put it in a vending machine (also tells her not to show it to anyone-- which she doesn’t.)

Just going to say the movie carries out the same for the most part (including contacting Falcon) EXCEPT--

When Bucky pulls the mask off Steve he calls his name out and we still get shot at and captured. Rescued by Maria Hill, find Fury, etc, etc.

THEN Bucky calls Tony Stark from a payphone, who’s confused as to why Captain America is wanted on the news. Bucky tells Stark about Steve. Tony probably doesn’t believe him at first because, “Hello, Barnes? He’s dead. Has been for a long time. You hit your head or something?” But Bucky explains and suddenly Tony finds himself diving into old S.H.I.E.L.D. files and reading up on Soviet science experiments from the cold war.

Also, Tony comes to help blow up the carriers because heck to the no, Hydra is not using his technology, no siree.

So Falcon and Stark are flying around the carriers and taking care of goons, when Falcon gets shot down Stark goes after him and when everything is falling apart, Stark tries to get close to Barnes to grab him, but can’t because of the big guns.

Meanwhile in the Bucky vs. Steve fight, we get the whole “trying to kill one“ another thing, but I feel like Bucky is way better at pushing Steve’s memory buttons and Bucky is a little more willing to punch Steve because he knows Steve wouldn’t want to kill him. So Steve figures out “wait, I know this guy” just before they hit the water.

When they crash in the water, both are semi-conscious and they are found by Stark who flies both to his compound and calls the doctors to come work on these two sad super soldiers.

Now Steve doesn’t remember everything. But he knows that: One, Hydra is going to be after him if they find out he’s still alive. Two, these people that helped him either knew him or know of him somehow and he really doesn’t want to hurt them. Three, his name is Steven Rogers and the punk from earlier is James Buchanan Barnes.

So Steve pulls a him and goes, “Nope, not putting you in danger” and the first chance he gets he flees Avenger’s tower and disappears into thin air.

Thanks, Steve. Thanks a lot.

Age of Ultron, nothing really changes. Tony is also looking for Steve and Bucky is a little more on top of things and tells Tony that Steve might have had something to do with his parent’s deaths but he’s not 100% sure.

Civil War. Okay, bear with me for a second because I can see Bucky actually being Pro-Accords. Not one hundred percent of the actual document but the idea behind it because “yes, people need to be held accountable for their actions” but also “you can’t save everyone no matter how hard you try, trust me I know that better than everyone, but that doesn’t mean you just sit there and do nothing because some government people tell you no, you can’t get involved.” (Basically Black Widow’s stance on this whole thing)

So when “Steve” bombs the accords, Bucky knows that’s not him and tells Tony as much (who doesn’t believe Barnes completely, but willing to give him a chance because of the past) and since Bucky technically signed the accords he has more pull in what happens to him and Tony is way more willing to listen.

Which means Bucky and Tony track down Steve in that apartment with actual permission to do so, on the condition they take the “Winter Soldier” into custody.

I’m not really sure what happens after this because Tony is going to find out about his parents, one way or another. Maybe Bucky’s stories about his old friend will keep Tony from trying to kill him. Maybe they won’t. Who knows? Heck, Zola may not even make it through the front door because Bucky is allowed to talk to Steve as the “therapist”

So end this AU however you want, I think it’d be pretty accurate. I’m just going to say the Accords got thrown out the window and Bucky and Tony start helping Steve recover from Hydra. Yay!

#winter soldier!steve #captain america!bucky #captain america: tfa #captain america: tws #captain america: civil war #avengers #avengers: aou #sam wilson #falcon #steve rogers #bucky barnes #brothers in arms #just brothers #no ships #brotp #the first avenger #the winter soldier #captain america #civil war #age of ultron

[losing-my-will]

A/N: Yay, second chapter is up, and I wanna thank the wonderful @itsasumbrella, who she not only has great patience with me and I really don't deserve her, but because she's my beta for this story. Also, she has an amazing fic called "Wicked Game", if you know Spanish please I beg you; go read it!

ISOBEL

Summary: Grounded in a place she barely knows, stuck in a marriage she loathes. Astrid Hofferson has thought of her fate as the beginning of her end, a wheel starting to crush her life. But also on how she mustn’t completely accept it.  AU. Hiccstrid.

CHAPTER 2

TWICE AT THE NECK

When she was a little girl, Astrid Hofferson nearly drowned in the springs of her village —she went unsupervised to the forest, no one ever knew of the event ‘til months later when Cami noted how much her sister was scared of water, she coaxed her one night to spill the truth but the child clumsily concocted a story; she was put in taught in the next weeks. Little Astrid ended up enjoying it, the very challenge itself of floating and not sank, and the test of her breath when under the water.

She wouldn't ever prospect that that’d help her swam out after jumping from almost twenty-five feet.

‘Fuck’ and with a pop in the k was the first noise reverbing from her. The cold of the water was too much to bear, and the sand kept getting between her toes, shoes apparently lost forever in the murky ocean.

Aside those problems, there were even more when she started rushing through that unknown land, there were no signs of any tribe or village, it was just green esplanades near and far and nothing else.

Has that taken away her exhilaration when she ran? No, no it didn’t, she’d never felt such adrenaline before, it was a reckless blending as one with the blood within her limbs.

However, Astrid has to admit she was scared, adding acutely aware.

When she thought she’d ran enough to be far from the shore, she ran some more, and when her feet begun to feel sore, she stopped under a treetop and leaned on its thick trunk. The trees in this land were tall and alive, unlike those in her village, and then she promptly realized too; none raid nor has violence ever touched the place, reason why maybe the water in that myriad of lagoons dispersed seemed so clear.

She had left her right foot rest on the boulder and inspected the sole if there was any more damage than the already open wounds and dry blood. Knowing she’ll only be attended by a healer if she finds a tiny but village at the least she unglues from the tree and went ahead in search for that source of life, birds’ chirps weren’t enough but they fill the silence comfortably.

“On we go” she breathes.

Since toddler, Astrid has relished in the action of walk, explore, she considers herself a highly active kind a person, and mostly because she mulls over when alone too, so whether or not the girl finished her chores she’d usually sneaked out of them and go strolling across her village or into the nature. There was no responsibility in doing that, but Astrid hated so much the work her aunt or other people assigned it at her. And not because she belittle them, but because she wasn’t meant for those chores.  

Being a soon-to-be-wife of a barbarian didn’t fit in that category too.

She really hopes to rendezvous that village soon and convince any farmer with its life settled to adopt her.

Yeah, that’d be nice.

Just as nice when she finally come upon with one those lakes, the water it is clear and seeing the fishes swimming makes her stomach grumble in hungriness.

“I should have eaten.” she says pensive. Looking at her grime, trembling reflection.  

“Yeah, you should have.”

A new face appears next to hers, Valthjof stares at her serious. She gasps his name.

“You followed me!” she hollered at him accusingly. And then felt rather dumbly, of course he would had.

He nodded. “I have to protect you.”

Astrid stares back at him innocently for a short but taut moment. “I didn’t get far enough, did I?” He shook his head.

Sighing heavily, she rose on her feet with eyes set on the few fishes. “I’m hungry.”

Valthjof nods again and stalks forward from her.  

Astrid frowns at his back, quietly confused if she has to go after him or not.

Sensing her distress, he spins on his heels, watching her carefully. “We’ll fish, but none of this lake.”

“Why?” she asks, “Is something wrong with this one?” Astrid scowls. Does she really have to go further with him alone? Does she? Go with a man she recently met with? Is she overreacting? Valthjof is meant to shelter Cami and her from any harm, yes. ‘Give a chance to someone and let them prove it wrong’ she goes with that philosophy. She has to trust him. However, the bounce of his sword attached to his hip and his absurd height squirms her, and reminds her how easily he can tear her apart if he wishes, shove the flat side of his blade against her throat and forces himself into her. What if the Council lied about him? He’s a retired warrior, and a brave warrior dies with honor and blood spewing out of their mouth in battled field instead of retiring in cowardice. Why would they send a coward? Why would they risk foolishly? A war would inevitably unleash, and Brynhild it's terribly vulnerable nowadays, fuck, that’s strategy; the berkians’d win over them and conquer her home converting all the inhabitants into thralls.  

“Trust issues?” He guesses.

“I barely know you.”

Valthjof seems to understand at her words. Scratching his nape, he says softly through thin lips; “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“So much for an assurance.” She bites back.

“What do you want, child?”

“I’ll query you if you don’t mind,” Astrid replies severe, “While you lead us.”

He nods, and stretches his palm at top of his chest. “I’ll answer truthfully.”

The girl, shivering and in bad fumes, balled a portion of her dress in fists and stepped before him.

He holds his hand up, “Wait. I’ll give you my boots.”

“What? No.”

“Yes, don’t worry. I’m wearing wool socks.”

He unties the cords stained with dirt and handed the shoes at Astrid, she puts them timid and thanking him.

He makes a noise of approve, adjacent clearing his throat; “Be concise with the questions, without subdue your curiosity. You may begin.”

Astrid mutedly agreed with his terms, and whilst wrapping her arms around herself, she thought of the hundreds of questions buzzing in her mind.

“Uh, ok.” She bits her bottom lip. “What happened in the ship after I jumped?”

“Your sister made it anchor there and then.”

“You’re the only one who got down?”

He nods.

“Where are we? Why’re there lots of lochs?”

Valthjof fixed at her with something near as astonishment glinting within his sunken eyes.

“I don’t know. I’m asking you precisely for that.”

“Pardon.”

“You’re not first.” Astrid mutters and its tone is like it left a resentful taste.

She shrugs after sighting his almost puzzled semblance, “You’d be surprised how much wedge there has been in my education and Cami’s”

“Oh”

“It’s understandable. She has to read, and memorized, and learn everything.”

“And you?” Valthjof asks as he unshed his sword and nicked a web of bushes.    

“And I’m there.” She grimaces inwardly —the untreated gashes of her feet; she felt them bleeding, if they don’t watch it they’ll get infected.

“You ok?”

“Yes.” The girl lies. “You were telling me…” she trails off.

“Waterlands.”

Her brows rose unimpressive. Whoever thought they were being creative naming isles would be scandalized with Astrid’s disappointment. “Logical.” She ends up replying, awkwardness bubbling up.

There’s a pause while they pass a streamlet.

“You didn’t false your age and name, did you?"

His jaw sets, “I needn’t spread misinformation.”

Astrid learns first thing about this mysterious man; he’s an awful liar. But that leads her towards the next question; “You said you were once a warrior.” she pulls it out, accommodating it for her consequent shot, “At least, I think Berk wouldn’t chose a wimp who fled from battles to protect his heir’s future wife. I’m pretty sure they would have disowned you. Is there anything you’re not being truthful about? Because I sense you’re hiding it.”

Valthjof’s eyes hardened on her as his nostrils flared, she had visibly upset him and it showed. Poor Astrid had to fight against a flinch that threated to strike her entire body from head to toes. Oh, she’s overstepping, she should apologize for such indecency—    

“I prefer you naïve than witty sleuth.” He quips.

Offended, she glares him, “And I will prefer you to tell the whole truth.”

“You have quite a character hidden within you.” he paused, and then inhaled profoundly, tired, “I wasn’t neither conceived nor brought out of my mother’s uterus in Berk.”

“W-what?” she stutters.

“I met with the Archipelago when I was a boy your age, teen and doltish. Recently escaped from home, and dragging sweet childlike dreams of being a warrior behind me.”

“What you were before that?”

“Bastard-son of a roman soldier. My mother a harlot, my father a man who couldn’t be denied.”

“Why did you ran off your home?”

“Mother found great enjoyment in flagellated me with a scourge. I stabbed her in the leg and left her bleeding, then I shielded under the protection of a tradesman.”

She swallows hardly, like there was a big lump stuck midway of her throat. “And that’s how you befriended with Berk, by the trips.”

He nods, “I combated alongside them for many years, and even defended the father of his current Chief and himself. They weight a lot of trust on my shoulders, and vice versa.”

“And now you’re retired.”

“Not by choice.” he tsks, “They begged me.”

Astrid frowns.

“I “retired” two years ago to go back to that life of merchant and rest how’s appropriate.”

“And… did you wanted?”

He laughs loudly, “I confess I grew fond with the Viking Way.”

She licks her lips before reminding boldly; “But you still lied and said you were from Berk.”

“Yes, that’s a cover, child.”

“I-“

“Your culture embraced me and I embraced them.” Valthjof heckles, “You may not know due it your village is the furthest and separated, but inside the Archipelago; Berk is the wealthiest, more respected village in that packet of savagery, brat heirs and ruthless Chiefs. And the most secretive, there’re only a few things they let go out of their cliffs.”

Astrid slowly processes the news, and ultimately gives the conclusion, “So they took you under their wing, so people wouldn’t despise you once they made you step off from the violence.”

“You are clever. Yes, I present myself from Berk, and so people don’t look at me twice. If people knew it; bastard and non-Viking.” he chortles.

“A matter of reputation.” Astrid deduces.

“Aye.”

The man fidgets with a layer of leather of his waist pulling out a small canteen. He opens up the lid with his index and brought the nozzle to his lip, but before it could touch it he halted and looked at her sideways, “Thirsty?”  

“Can you tell me more of Berk?”

Valthjof took a quick swig of whatever was the content but didn’t respond.

///

THUNK!

The whetted steel sunk with a sickly snap through flesh and spines and onto the trunk. Valthjof whirled his wrist as he pressed his fingertips in the slick skin of the freshly, butchered fish; he slid his long fingers in the slit letting drain blood and all its reeked fluids.

Astrid, who’d sat meters away witnessing the disembowelment— couldn’t stopped herself of wrinkle her little nose at the sight.

“If it bothers you so much, why you sat there?” he asked it whilst cleaning up the blade with a ragged cloth. “Take a sit over there.” the rough man jerks his thumb behind him.

She peers where he pointed; another mucky boulder, “No. I wanted here.”

“Then you've to stop with the grimacing,” he spits his phlegm, “You’ll face worst things.”

“Like what?”

He shrugs, “Your wedding night, when your husband’ll spread you open and fucks you.”

The girl stares wide eyed at him, baffled. And in expect of a rapid apologize.

“You didn’t like that, did you?”  

No she didn’t like it, she loathed it. Hurt and despair washed on her. The words felt near a welt striking her existence with a mammoth accurateness; as soon they arrive in Berk, she’ll be introduced, wedded, and taken on knees and palms.  

“You deserve better than a honeyed fable,” Valthjof says after a moment, inserting the blade around the ventral fin again, the fish’s hacked head finally fell on the ground with a muffled sound as its protruded eyes connect with Astrid’s. “Don’t fret, child. Though be prepared, I heard the consummation'll hurt to you first time.”

“He’s… Is he— the way you described it,” her tongue glide over her lips, anxiously and nervous, “His demeanor—”  

He scowls, “Berk’s heir is many things. I will not spoke of him nor Berk.”

Astrid shook her head, blonde strands swinging, “No.” the girl surveys the clear before her, “You won’t,” she stood, “But you’ve to, please. I’m their bride. I’m part of that trade.” softly pleads.

“You’ll meet them when you’re there.” his only answer before twirling the torsk once more and smoothing his hand over its last ripped scales, “And don’t usher that childish argument of “because I have the right”.” warns.  

His butcher knife was gone after he’d laid it briefly on the trunk, but no for so long before it pointy, menacing end was thrust with force on the wood by delicate, trembling fingers gripping tightly the haft, sneering; the girl says; “Is in my right.”

The bulky man impassively contemplates her, “You threated me or asserted your words?”

Astrid doesn’t want a quarrel with Valthjof; he’s been nothing but polite and unfeigned to her. And admittedly, he lets her disadvantaged in many, many things. But to refuse the slightest details of the northern isle preoccupied her.  

“I’m begging you. Please. I departed my homeland to save it, because Berk promised us offerings, plenty of supplies; livestock, nourishment, furs, meat, coin. And weapons too. Valthjof, please, I can’t go ignorant to a country that’s helping us. My country is perishing, my people are vulnerable, and we burnt every night since three months ago by the fire-breath of dragons.”

“Then why’d you tried to escape?”

She froze, “What?”

“We’re here; you pleading, and I’m making our dagveror, because of you, we stand in this soil because you jumped. You’re trying to convince me with a speech even after you had run off. Where do your words fall?

He hadn’t touched her, and yet it felt like he slapped her.  

“I’ll not speak of Berk. Now, help with the bonfire, child.”

Having taken the initiative rapidly; Astrid searched after dry branches and flat rocks and made a neat heap of dead leafs meanwhile Valthjof finished slicing the fish in parts and lighting said bonfire. Together and summoned in their thoughts pierced the flesh’s chunks in the surplus branches bracketed by nature noises.  

“You mentioned dragons,” commented Valthjof after spitting spines that’d mired in his teeth.

They were half-eating, sitting near the heat source, he had insisted on going anywhere but the dirt, but she declined and had said that there was no salvation for her dress anyway, even then; it was a pity that the hem of the fabric had turned from a rich scarlet to a dark brown.

“I did mention them.”

“They’re the causing of yours devastation I heard.”

“Yes,” she swallows, “They have been raiding us since Mörsugur.”

“You know why?”

“Of course I don’t know. We actually don’t understand. After six years of peace… we foolishly thought the beasts were gone.”

“No guilt on that. I imagine your village suffered all those years.”

She nods.

There’s another wave of tranquil and definitely more comfortableness, before Valthjof cleared his throat, “I recall a vivid moment when I was seven, when one of my mother’s colleagues told me that dragons have their own place, not a nest nor an island, more like a… world. A world never visited by mankind.”

She frowned skeptical, “And— and you believed her?”

“I was young. I would have assumed the existence of a margýgr if someone would told me,” he chuckles contagiously with Astrid too, “She said a drunken sailor told it at her when he finished with her, adding he had seen it. And if hadn’t been for the thick fog, he could have it visualized finely.”  

Astrid smirked, not quite capable of picturing a small Valthjof awed-struck. Amusement quickly dissipated; she asked frowning, “Where supposedly would be this world?”  

“Located at the edge of ours,” he says dryly.

“I wish these beasts fell and died at the edge of the world.” responds scathingly.  

He snorts.  

“Funny? The pests are separating and ending families, and I’m sure we’re not the only village target it of their assaults—”  

"No, it’s not funny. I’m aware of how bloody and destructive their onslaughts are."

“You ever saw dragons, right?”

“Many times.”

“You had ever slay them?”

“Many times.”

She scrutinized him in the mere second restful of such ruffled talk, she kept studying him though; mindful of his sudden strain in movements, as if he was being careful in his body language, and also of the delivers of his replies. She commented nothing about it. They barely exchange glances, and just gathered their stuff and started the road back to the shore.

“Don’t expect me of me not to scold you. You were incredible irresponsible, you could have killed yourself from the height you leaped. Astrid, I love you so much, but for your stupidest you will be locked in your chamber, you will be washed and dressed inside with the assist of Hrefna, and feed by the hand of Póra. Learn the consequences of your actions,” had coldly said Cami when she met with her.

Despite following Cami’s dire instructions of Astrid not being allowed in leave her room for the six days of the voyage —Even if against her will—. Both held the knowledge of how much they cared for the one and the other. Regardless of how much Astrid wanted to wrench her sister’s frigid and despotic attitude with less courteous words, Cami’s severity displayed on her straightforwardness can’t be blamed at all. She’s been assigned an obligation; she’s acting based on what superior authority had edict her to do, whether they like it or not.

///

Purple smeared over the sky in its dawn whilst it transited into the greyish classic of the early mornings. Long, golden tresses weren’t resting in the pillow anymore, with the gown ridden up by her thighs and bent in the hip; she probed the gashes through the whitish bandages with the little aid of frail sunrays and candlelight. Though attended, the keen pangs of her feet injuries had almost made her rue her escapade.  

Howbeit it turned into a blunder, and had bothersome her sister further; not only it had irked them, it had shifted the date of the arriving to late evening of Laugardagur, and not Frjádagr as had been scheduled.  

That time has shortened, and now in only some hours they’ll reach the northern isle, they pictured it in quite the calm ambiance, that was until disagreeable news came.

It was during a second where Astrid was pondering if whether relief herself in the solitude of her gelid chamber, when a turmoil blasted and roared outside the door, followed by unintelligible mutters and indecorous swears. Hrefna kicked her way in and —with an apologetic smile, and a hurried “Good day”, hastened her in a linen bluish dress, another of those romans garments Brynhild had stolen. If she hadn’t chided her, the woman would have forgotten to even wipe her face with a cloth soaked in clean water.

“I’ll not be cleansed?” Hrefna flickered down at her, confused by the unmistakable tone of disappointment from the girl. It wasn’t the cleaning that Astrid has been complaining for days, of course not, it was the action of being bathed like she couldn’t do it by herself and the goddamned prayers, and that the servant lefts her skin chafed and reddened after the end of every bath.

“No. Later.”

Cozy in a thick fur she went out to the wide deck of the fleet, in time to watch her sister’s plain indignation expressed in her knitted brows, Valthjof seemed explaining of some stuff at her feet distanced.

She stalked towards them, eventually picking up their en going discussion.

“No,” her sister solidly interjected. “We are not gonna get down this ship,” her scowl deepened as she spats, tugging her own fluffy fur, concealing her flimsy arm-freckles and that crimson dot birthmark aloft the curve of her right shoulder.

“It is required,” he insisted.

“And they can shove up their pretty requirements wherever they choose to like,” her sister stretches her arm at her, quickly holding hands, “I’ll repeat it; no one is getting down this thing.”

Astrid’s blonde head tilts, fixing her blue eyes at Valthjof, “Are we‘ll get down?”

“He says so, a berkian boat will pick us,” responds her sister in a latent enraging.  

Her face hardens, and in such coldness —that Astrid has never heard her use ever, voiced her realization, “Because they have insolated themselves,” she juts her chin out, attempting to level her short height with his’ massiveness.

He crosses arms under his chest, “It’s a measurement of protection.”  

“Nonsenses,” she shrieks, “This secretiveness, this self-marginalization is not sane!”

Valthjof exhales resigned, chest significantly deflating at the clear remorseful for his subsequent words, “You wanted me to prattle about Berk, I denied it, but now it may be your only soothing,” he stroked his eyelids distressed, as if he’s battling an argument with himself. When he straight his back and swiped his tongue over his lips, he seems he lost it; “You two are heading to a tribe with starkly differences with yours, inhabited by people as sturdy as their soil. People who wears leather on their waists and clad-armor upon their shoulders, not linen but wool, not soft but harsh, bloodlust warriors at the best and when it comes to defend Berk,” he then sets eyes on Astrid, “And you’re the fortunate to stay there; to live, to eat, to piss and shit, to breath among them, fucking too and breeding the next heir. Better adapt quickly.”  

Astrid stiffens at the last mention, “Not a baby-oven,” she snarls baring her teeth.

He looms over her, squinting at her lithe presence, “Then prove them otherwise.”

“They’re here!” shouted someone.

"Pack your things and get in that boat," he rushes them.

“N-no,” Cami stutters.

"Here," he mutters, withdrawing two daggers from the sheaths at his sides, "You know the basis, how it works; you swing and cut."  

Disbelieving; the girls took each knife, “We don’t know how to fight,” cleared Cami.

“Aye,” he resumed his short lecture ignoring her protests, “Twice at the neck if necessary; stabbing or slitting,” making a demonstration by circling his own neck with the thumb.

That’s the last they saw of Valthjof of Berk; a ghost of a smile dancing on his thin lips and his right hand gripping his sword’s hilt, the ever proof he existed heaving in his former blades now dangling in the girls’ fingers.

At the boat two brawny men plucked their stuff away from Hrefna and Póra, barely making eye contact with them, and had already begun to unroll the flag. The older with the red tuft stared contently at Astrid.

He took a pace forward, she took one back.  

It’d made him roll his eyes. “We won’t harm you, we’ll not touch you. You are our heir’s bride,” he brushes off snot of his nose, and continues hauling the khaki rope whilst surveying her sister, “and I have understood you’re the heir of your little village.” With a final tug, the rope strained and the flag sprawls with a gentle flap, “If I want to fuck, I go with a whore, not squealing high-born girls.”    

Needless to mention neither couple exchanged words with the counterpart, if not urgently needed. And though the last path of their sailing went tensed after the offense and mere insult, it notably carried acute expectation, suspense and heightened fearfulness. And had hit Astrid disastrously, basked in Cami’s bony arms and wailing helplessly after having realize how it was actually happening, she resented and had scold herself for her weakness, but the moment had simply surpassed her; the cruelness of the Council in subtlety selling her, yes; there’s a grand reason lurking behind it, but the cost to get rid of her and bare her of decisions and a possibility for a distinct fate?  

Albeit shrouded in a fog and a night as dark as coal upon them, Berk starts clearing up at quite a decent distance.

Nearby the coast were stood two large, too burly and broad figures and one remarkably skinny. When the blurs lessens, his appearances slowly reveals, the lanky had a mop of auburn hair at top a head comically too big for his body.

And she sees green, green eyes glinting in the torchlight.

Green eyes that stride away from the shore and gaits towards her new home.

#my writing #ISOBEL #httyd fanfic #httyd fanfiction #httyd au #hiccstrid #hiccstrid fanfic #arranged marriage au #au

[firesong323]

1. Little Sister’s and Glowing Boy’s

Prologue    AO3 FFN

Notes 

I have decided that my Fem!Sokka is going to be named Sonya. It took a while to decide what it would be. I decided because it sounds somewhat like Sokka and seems to flow with the rest of the story. Once again, constructive comments are welcome. This story has no beta reader if you see something that I missed please contact me in comments or through my inbox.

Here we will see some sister interaction. You will notice that I am taking some direct quotes from the show. I do not claim any part of the show all credit goes to Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko, with Aaron Ehasz and Nickelodeon.

A few Fun Fact: Sokka in phonetic Chinese translates to “block” or “inquire”. Katara is “pagoda”, “pull” or “block”. Sonya is a Russian variation of Sophia and means “wisdom” or “dreamer”.

Enjoy the chapter

The silver of the fish glinted in the light of the sun. Water gently rocked the boat as I watched the halibut swim almost in circles in. Katara sat behind me in the back of the kayak. I couldn’t see her but I could hear her sigh in boredom. Feeling comfortable in knowing the swimming pattern I pull back the spear and hit the fish in center mass. Smiling at the success I pull it from the water and add the fish to the others in the basket between my sister and I. Looking at her I grin before seeing her looking off in the distant waters, my smile falls.

“Hey, we almost have enough fish, maybe you would like to try?” I extend the spear to her shaking it a little, trying to distract her in some way.

“You know I don’t know how to use that, Sonya.” Katara sighed again.

“I know, but you could always try.” I see her eyes light up in familiar indignation. This had been a line of conversation we took before and I could already tell we were going to follow it again.

“Why would I need to know how to use a stupid spear when I have my water-bending?” She crosses her arms over her chest and lets out a huff, her breath visible in the always cold air.

My hand tightens around the spear and I take a deep breath trying not to yell. She always gets like this, just calm down Sonya. Don’t hit your stubborn and irrational sister. “You barely have any control over your bending Katara.” I put up my hands placatingly, “I just thought you would like to catch a fish is all.” The last part came out a little more bitingly than I had wanted and I turned away and back to the water before I could say more.

As I spot a new target, I again watch its pattern before preparing to strike. I faintly hear Katara say my and something about a fish. As I pull back quickly my back is soaked with icy water. “Ahh!”

“Hey!”

I turn to look at her sharply. “Why is it that every time you decide to play with your magic water, I get soaked?”

She returns my glare, “Ugh, it isn’t Magic its Water-Bending. And it’s...”

“Yes, yes, I know. An ancient art, unique to our culture bla bla bla, you are a great gift from the Spirits.” I roll my eyes and turn back only to see the fish gone.

“I don’t think that and you know it.”

I sigh still a little irritated. “I know I just get tired of hearing the same thing every time we have this fight.”

Suddenly the boat hits something. Looking at the water sharply we both see that we are caught in a rushing current weaving between ice blocks. I grab that oar and try to navigate while looking ahead. The blocks come together quickly and grow larger the further along the boat is forced to go. Oh. Spirits, this kayak is so not meant for ice dodging.

We start being hit on both sides; I try to paddle harder. Katara making comments and yells “Watch out!”

My eyes widen as the flow gets even quicker pulling us towards a cluster. “Go left, Go Left!” she yells and I try but realize that it’s useless and drop the oar and grab the spear. We are maneuvered directly between two large blocks and jump quickly onto the larger of them. I jab the whale-walrus tooth into the ice and grab Katara’s leg to keep her from sliding onto the water.

After catching my breath, I look around a curse, seeing nothing but ice and water for miles. Katara carefully moves backward and sits beside me, “You call that left?” she says incredulously.

“You don’t like my steering? Well, maybe you should have Water-bended us out of the ice.” I move my hands in a flowing pattern I’ve seen her use before.

“So, this is my fault?” she rolls her eyes.

“I knew I should have left you home. Leave it to you to screw things up.”1

She stands and looks down at me glaring, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She starts ranting quickly he hands moving back and forth up and down. “You are the most hard-headed, stubborn... I’m embarrassed to be related to you!” That hurt a bit and I had to hide a wince. Water becomes turbulent and rocks the block of ice. There is a large crack and I look behind Katara. “Ever since mom died, I’ve had to listen to you act like you are in charge of the house! Doing chores while you go off and play warrior!” Another crack appears on the large Iceberg.

My eyes widen and I move back slightly, lifting my hands to point. “Uh, Katara?”

“I even mend all the clothes! Do you know how often you rip your parka!? Let me tell you, Too Often!!” The waves are sharp as she swings back her arms in frustration once more.

“Katara! Settle down!”

“No! I’m done helping you! From now on, you’re on your OWN!” With one last backswing, a large wave hits the Iceberg and it splits in half. I gasp and she finally turns where I’m looking.

The halves crash hard into the water causing large waves to move the other blocks away. We grip the edge of our block and I wrap one arm around my sister as we duck our heads to the ice. We ride the waves for a few moments before we look up again; icy water covering us.

Opening my eyes, I remove my arm from around her and relax on the ice. “Okay, you’ve gone from weird to freakish Katara.”

“You mean,” her eyes were wide,” you mean I did that?” Her voice was soft, knowing that it was true but not truly believing it.

“Yep, congratulations.”

The water under us starts to glow in a circle and seems to grow larger in a matter of seconds. We stand quickly and move onto the center of our block. I grab my still stuck spear and pull Katara towards me as a glowing circular iceberg pops out of the water and moves us backward.

We watch, squinting to see through the glow. Two figures can only barely be made out, one larger than the other. Suddenly the smaller figure, who the glow seems to originate from, opens what can only be assumed as eyes.

Katara gasps, “He’s alive!” She reaches behind me and gets my club. “We have to help.” She starts jumping on the small blocks that came up when the glowing iceberg did.

“Katara! Get back here we don’t know what that thing is!” I grab my spear and move to follow her. Spirits save me from curious and unaware little sisters. Soon we are both at the base of the Iceberg, and looking closer the ice seemed to have frozen while flowing around the figures inside. Katara starts beating my club against the sphere with all the strength she can give. I know that it would be useless to stop her. For all she complains about my being stubborn, she was just as bad.

After a handful of hits, she strikes once more in the same place and is thrown back into me by a sudden gust of hot air and steam. We both watch as the ice cracks in the middle and bursts apart. Katara curls into me and I bring my spear into to front to ward off the unknown. A ray of light shooting straight into the sky. Around us, there are waves even as the iceberg stays still.

When the light dims, we look again to the now crater of ice. I push Katara almost behind me and my spear pointed to where the figures last were. I hold back a gasp as a young boy in thin cloth appears. Why Is He GLOWING!? He stands, and I push Katara behind me completely both hands on my spear for power and reassurance. “Stop!”

Suddenly the glowing stops and the boy falls forward. His eyes are closed and he is unable to stop himself. Katara moves forward and half catches him and half guides his fall so the boy is laying down. I move to stand behind her and lean down slightly eyes narrowed, as I cautiously poke his shoulder (not the head, I’m not that rude, the boy may have head trauma) with the butt of my spear.

Katara pushes it away. “Stop it.” Her eyes a small glare. I shrug my shoulders staying close to her. She lays the boy against the ice where it is curved and sits back. Only a few moments later the boy opens his eyes and looks up at my sister. His eyes are wide and I can already see a crush forming. Oh please no.

“I need to ask you something.” The boy says in a soft almost tired voice.

“What?” Katara says, always eager to help.

The boy looks a little pathetic, “Please, come closer,”

I shift my weight and get ready to hit him if he does anything wrong. “What is it?” Katara asks in a softer voice.

Suddenly the boy’s eyes open wide, “will you go penguin sledding with me?” He asks, his voice now louder and more energetic.

I almost drop my spear, what!?

Katara leans back a little as well, I can see her eyebrows rise in confusion. “Uh, sure, I guess.”

-----

So we saw the sisters interact. I would love to know what you all thought of it.

1 Obviously because this is a Fem!Sokka I can't have her say "Leave it to a girl to screw things up".

#Fem!Sokka #atla #Katara #Aang #Daughter of the Tribe

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Mother dragon (1); Winchester brothers x reader

*Author’s note*

Hello everyone. Okay so this is a new series I’m planning on doing. I’ve got a few chapters already up and running so here’s the deal. This is a Supernatural fic but to combine my two great loves right now joining the cast are the boys of Bohemian rhapsody. So yeah here you all get to imagine that Joe Mazzello, Ben Hardy, Gwilym Lee and Rami Malek are apart of the SPN world. So I hope you all give this series a read and a chance and hope that you all like it. And if anyone’s interested in being tagged in future parts, just send me a message. Like, comment and reblog if you love both SPN and the BORHAP boys :)

Taglist:

@onebigfangirlworld

__________________________________________________________

Part 1

God if the guys could see me now, they’d definitely be rubbing in a ‘We told you so’ right to my face.  I limped along through the woods until I got to the lake and found my old den that I once called home for a while.  I groaned in pain as I held my leg and checked the wound.

Wait I’m getting ahead of myself.  The name’s (y/n) (l/n), I’m 23 years old and I was born a hunter.  My parents actually taught me everything I needed to know.  My father trained me to be the best fighter while my mother as good a fighter as she was, she taught me more of the lore aspect of everything and anything that goes bump in the night.  But when I was just 10 years old, a vampire nest had found the house and they killed my parents right in front of me.

For whatever reason they let me live, whether to gloat or for me to live with the guilt that I couldn’t save them, I don’t know. But what I did know was that from that day on I was alone.

I first met Sam and Dean on a hunt 5 years ago, they at first thought I was crazy to be so young and being involved with stuff like this, but after saving their asses from a wendigo hunt gone wrong, they changed their tune and allowed me to stick around and I’ve been with them ever since.

Just recently we had gotten word of a pair of Vetalas hunting in these woods.  I told Sam and Dean to leave it all to me since I knew these Vetalas specifically. But what I didn’t tell them was that unlike any other Vetala they’ve faced, it wasn’t just two, no this was an entire pack of Vetalas.

When I was 14, a psychotic man had found a way to make the Vetala’s loyal to him and he made them do whatever it was that he wanted. Killings, kidnapping women, whatever it was they did it all for him.  I gotten word of where they were hiding and killed the master but ever since then, the Vetalas had had it in for me.

Because while digging deeper into the Men of Letter’s archive, I had read that when Vetalas are bonded with a master, that bond is eternally strong and if their master is killed, they will stop at nothing to exact revenge for their fallen master.

So in order to protect Sam and Dean, I told them that I could handle this on my own, I had the homefield advantage after all, but of course I was in way over my head.

Now here I am in the woods with a bleeding leg after one Vetala had thrown me so hard I had cut it against a rock, a broken wrist and possible a concussion.  It was now nightfall and I could hear their snake-like hissing and commands trying to search for me.

I hid myself with leaves and mud trying to block my scent so that they couldn’t find me.  But I knew they wouldn’t leave that easily so I stayed awake the whole night in case they had found me.

By dawn, they finally left but we hunters know you can never be too sure.  With my silver knife in my non-dominant hand I limped across the woods hoping to leave to find the road that would lead to my hometown so that there would be witnesses and I know for a fact that Vetalas won’t physically attack their prey before an audience.

But as the sun began to rise, I found myself turned around.  I should’ve reached the road by now.  Shit it had been such a long time since I’ve been here that I’ve completely forgotten which way the road to town was.  If anything I must’ve gone deeper into the woods.

Suddenly a twig snapped from behind me and I could hear them tracking me.

“Hey! There she is! I’ve found her!” I heard a blonde Vetala scream out.  Soon they all came charging at me, eyes revealed and fangs bared out.  I ran as fast as my injured leg would allow. Jumping over rocks and logs and gripping my knife tighter and closer to me.  I heard them hissing and calling out to me telling me that they were coming to get me and that I was going to pay for killing their master all those years ago.

I stopped running as I now came to a tall cliff. It was then I knew that I was trapped.

I heard them coming closer so I turned around and held my knife out and took a deep breath as I let out a cry and stood on top of a small boulder giving me a slight elevation.

“ALRIGHT YOU BITCHES! YOU WANT ME!? COME AND GET ME!!!!” Soon two black haired Vetalas came out from the woods snarling and hissing at me. “Yeah that’s right!! Come here you ol broads! You’ve waited a long time for this huh? Well so have I. Take your best shot!” More Vetalas appeared jumping over boulders in front of me or coming out from the woods until I was surrounded by all 11 of them.

This ends now.  I should’ve killed all of them years ago when I had killed their master. But this time I was gonna make things right.  This town has suffered long enough from these bitches, and this time they weren’t going to hurt anyone ever again.

I then let out an animalistic roar to try and intimidate them but they just kept stalking closer and closer blocking any hope of my escape.  I let out a couple more roars and I could hear it echoed throughout the woods.  If anyone had heard my own roars, they’d probably run because they didn’t know what the hell it was, it was that raw and animalistic.

Then it began.

Using whatever strength I had left in my legs mixed with the adrenaline bumping madly throughout my body, I tackled the first Vetala I could, bringing her to the ground and stabbed her with my knife killing her.

The blonde Vetala that had told her pack about me, tackled me off her friend using her super strength which led me to letting go of my knife.  I punched her as hard as I could before gripping her hair and using my right foot, pressed it against her gut and rolled her off me.

I got up and I wildly punched any Vetala that came near me but I was soon ambushed from behind, trapped in a head and shoulder lock and I soon heard a loud pop and let out the most agonizing scream. She had dislocated my left shoulder and I felt a sweep at my legs and fell flat on my back before feeling myself being pinned to the ground and I felt a bite at my neck.

I let out a scream but it was soon muted as the venom began taking its course through my body.  I felt my whole body go numb and hear the piercing loud ringing in my ears.  Their voices muffled as they surrounded me but I heard the one who had pinned me down say.

“Today she dies for our master.” Her fangs grew longer and as she got closer to me; I soon saw all the Vetalas look up towards the cliff.  But it was their faces that struck out to me.

They were all terrified.  The one who was pinning me down about to finish me off, her eyes became horrified as she backed away from me as well as her sisters.  God I wish that it was the boys who had come because if it was something more horrifying than a pack of Vetalas, then I was screwed big time.

*3rd Person POV*

Just before Denise could end the life of the hunter that took away their master, her sister Taylor cried out.

“Denise, look!” She looked up and that’s when all the Vetalas became frightened from what they were now looking up.

Perched up at the top of a cliff was a man.  He looked to be about (y/n)’s age, maybe a little older, had long dark brown hair that went past his shoulders, deep brown eyes and wore dark blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket.  He wasn’t the most intimidating to look at, hell he looked like any normal guy you would see on the street, but that’s not what had the Vetalas afraid.

It was what this guy was.

His brown eyes soon phased from honey brown to piercing gold like a lizard and large black leather wings sprung out from his back as he let out a roar.  He leapt from the cliff and slammed right in front of (y/n) protectively.

For this guy was one of the most legendary of any mythology.  Ranging from different myths and legends based on whatever culture they came from; and they are well known in pop culture today.

Dragons.

The long haired dragon protectively stood guard in front of (y/n) and fought off the Vetalas.  He picked one up and flew up in the air with her screaming her head off before he tossed her in the air and sent a kick her way sending her flying hundreds of miles away.

He came back down and grabbed another Vetala and heated up his hand burning her alive.  Vetala after Vetala he came for, burning, clawing, biting and even shooting fire whether from his mouth or hand he slayed them all one by one until they were all killed.  The dragon breathed heavily before extending his wings out and letting out the most fearsome roar he could muster.

It was then the dragon took notice of (y/n) down on the floor.  He walked towards her and knelt down beside her and slowly turned her over onto her back so that he could see her face.  His eyes narrowed for a brief second before suddenly changing to eyes of recognition.

*My POV*

From what I could see, I just saw large wings and fire surrounding me.  The ringing in my ears continued to ring louder and I just wished that it would stop. Suddenly I saw boots standing in front of me before I saw black jeaned legs kneeling before my vision.  I was then slowly turned on my back and I finally got a good look at the guy’s face.

Long dark brown hair and brown eyes.  His face looked so familiar and that’s when it hit me.

Deacon? Oh my god it was Deacon. And my is he a big, big dragon now.

His eyes first narrowed down at me but I guess he finally put the pieces together too and remembered who I was.

“Mum.” I could faintly hear him.  I tried to speak but my voice wouldn’t speak up.  I was soon picked up in his arms and he nuzzled my face.  His long hair brushed against my face tickling me.  

Oh my god I can’t believe this! Deacy was alive, after all these years! Oh my god…..I wish I could hug him. Why can’t I hug my child?  After he nuzzled and purred against my face, he soon took notice of my bitemark and I felt him beginning to lick it.

Thanks to his dragon saliva which I had discovered had healing properties, I slowly began to feel my fingers twitch and move again. He kept licking the wound on my neck until I was finally able to touch his back.  

He stopped licking my neck and he raised his head up tears in his eyes and a sad but happy smile spread across his face.

“My Deacy…….you got big.” He laughed softly and said.

“Yeah, I did. Oh mum I’ve missed you so much.”

“And I you my darling.” He then picked me up bridal style and he told me to hold on tight.  I wrapped my arms around his neck and his wings soon came out and he took off flying.

We soon arrived at a cave hidden deep within the mountains where he said I would be safe and healed.  Deacy set me down on a smooth elevated rock platform then knelt down in front of me brushing the strands of hair that fell over my face tucking it behind my ears.  I looked at him with tears in my eyes and choked out.

“I’m so sorry Deacy.”

“About what?” he questioned.

“That day…..the avalanche….if I hadn’t stayed there, you wouldn’t have to be alone. I never meant to leave you I—”

“Hey, hey—”

“I tried to fight back really I did but they wouldn’t let me and then I—”

“Mum, mum it’s okay, it’s okay.” Deacy wrapped his arms around me placing my head over his chest allowing me to hear his strong heartbeat.  “What’s done is done, I don’t blame you for what happened. You helped save that man’s life. Had you not then he would’ve died.”

“But what about you? I abandoned you Deacy, how—how can you even stand to be near me, let alone forgive me?”

“Because you’re my mum. No matter what, you will always be my mum. Nothing can ever change that.” He said as he cupped my face in his hands wiping away the tears that fell down my face.

“When did you ever get so wise?” I choked out as a smile came across my face.

“I had a great teacher.” He said with a smile which made me laugh softly.  He nuzzled my face with a loud dragon purr.  I smiled and wrapped my arms around my baby boy and kissed his temple.

“I still can’t believe how big you’ve gotten in such a short time.”

“Dragon’s human forms age a bit quicker to fit the physicality of our dragon sizes. Mostly it goes a couple years, then after the adolescent years it goes by decades until it sudden freezes for several hundred years before aging once more.”

“Well that I knew, after all I raised you from the time after you shortly hatched. It’s just that…..last I saw you, you were a scrawny, little teenage boy and now look at you.”

“Hey I wasn’t scrawny! I was lean.”

“Sure you were.” I teased.

“Oh okay I see how it is,” he then tackled me onto the smooth stone and began tickling me.  Not just with his fingers, but with gentle love bites on my neck along with his long hair brushing against my skin.  I laughed and tried to push him away but he stayed close and kept tickling me.

What felt like an eternity, he finally stopped leaving me breathless along the stone bed.  He then took notice of my swollen wrist and he said.

“How’s your wrist?”

“Honestly I can’t even feel it anymore.”

“Here let me see it.” He held out his hand and I placed my dominant hand in his and he held his other hand over my wrist, very gently touching it and I soon saw a gold light shine between his palms as well as around my wrist.

There was a slight tingle but then it faded away and he released my wrist and asked.

“How’s it feel now?” I flicked my wrist around and there was no pain at all.

“How—how did you learn to do that Deacy?”

“A friend of mine taught me. I’ll explain everything later, right now you should get some sleep. I know the Vetalas kept you up all night and you look exhausted mum.” As he spoke I let out a long, tired yawn and cleared my throat saying.

“Oh Deacy I’m sorry…..”

“No, no it’s fine. Now lie down and get some sleep.” I yawned and lay against the smooth, cool stone bed.  I tried to get comfortable but that’s when I felt an arm go underneath my head.  When I turned around I saw that Deacy had slipped his strong arm under my head like a pillow.

He smiled lovingly before his large black wing sprouted from behind his back and covered over me like a blanket, but also shielding the sun away from my eyes so that no light would disturb my sleep.

“Goodnight mum.”

“Night Deacy, I love you.”

“Love you too.” I felt him nuzzle my cheek before he kissed it and soon I fell into the comforting wing of my son and his dragon body heat kept me warm.

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom #supernatural imagines #supernatural imagine #joe mazzello #ben hardy #rami malek #gwilym lee #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #winchester sister #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #castiel #castiel x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #castiel fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester imagines #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester imagines #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #bohemian rhapsody cast #borhap cast x reader #borhap boys x reader #borhap boys imagine

[yeahyeahbeebisii]

Impostor Syndrome Draft: The Replacement

This is a rough draft for the story I’m writing. James, a member of an extraordinarily popular rock group has been killed in a car crash, and their management has a plan to avoid the uproar it would cause.

It wasn’t a remarkable building in any way. Plain brick, barely more than a house, but the weight of it imposed on me greatly. I had only seen it in magazine pictures, and looking at it in its full size and color was more impressive than I could convey. I knocked on the door, buzzing with excitement. A moment passed, and as I waited, my mind drifted back to the odd feeling I’d had when that man Nigel approached me. My suspicion that something may have been wrong turned to certainty when Nigel himself opened the door. He looked slightly disheveled, and his brow was clearly beaded with sweat. 

“You’re late.” He said as soon as he appeared.

“Yes, Mr. Taylor, I’m sorry, the bus-”

“Nevermind.” He cut me off with a forced smile. “You’re just fine, my boy. Please-” He gestured me inside. It was a small foyer with coat hooks directly opposite the entrance, and doors leading left and right on either side. Now a bit uneasy, I cautiously hung up my coat.

“Step in here for a moment, please.” He said, ushering me through the right door and shutting it behind us. It looked to be a recording room. I had never been in one before, and gazed around curiously. 

“What’s your full name, lad?” Nigel asked, pulling out a small notepad from his pocket.

“Oh, uh, William.” I replied, trying to focus again. “William Joseph Watts.” He scribbled it down. I couldn’t help but peek over at the notepad. There was a long list of names written on it, mine now joining them.

“Wonderful, now, would you mind singing a few bars of something for me? Anything you’d like.”

I was confused. I thought I’d only come to do a photoshoot. Why did I have to sing? But being in The Wildes’ studio, I began to sing their song Your Eyes. Almost immediately Nigel beamed, and by the end he was grinning from ear to ear.

“Phenomenal.” He said. “Absolutely phenomenal. Would you mind coming with me?”

He took me from the right room and into the left, which was obviously a lounge or break room, and sitting there, right in front of me, were Ricky Greene and Jeremy Wright. There was also a third man I didn’t recognise, leaning against the opposite wall. They turned to us as we entered. 

“Oh there he is.” Said Ricky sternly. “Calls us in today of all days then leaves us here for hours.”

“Nigel what have you been doing running about all morning?” Jeremy asked. They both sounded irritated, Jeremy almost sounded sad. My bewilderment was growing by the second, but was now somewhat outweighed by my shock at two of my favorite musicians sitting in front of me. 

“I’ll tell you in a moment.” Nigel said, sounding almost nervous. “Eh, where’s Simon?”

“Out back.” the third man said flatly.

“Who’s this?” Ricky asked, nodding to me. My heart jumped a bit, having been acknowledged. I felt a bit embarrassed by how easily I was moved by seeing famous people, but it wasn’t every day you got to meet international pop stars. 

“That’s exactly what I wanted to discuss with you boys.” Nigel put a hand on my shoulder. I noticed he was sweating a bit harder now. “Would you bring Simon in, please?” 

Jeremy got off the couch and went to the sliding french door on the opposite side of the room. He poked his head out, and a moment later, Simon Morris walked in, a cigarette dangling apathetically between his fingers. I smiled unintentionally at the growing gathering, but Simon clearly didn’t share my enthusiasm.

“It’s about time.” He snapped at Nigel and flopped down on a chair. Then his eyes fell on me. “Who’s this?”

“Good, alright, I’ll explain.” Nigel said. “Now that we’re all gathered-”

But as a thought struck me, I interrupted him.

“Where’s James?”

The looks I got in response made up for the gaping silence. They ranged from fury to panic, and now I knew for sure something was horribly wrong. 

“Did something happen?” Still silence. Nigel cleared his throat.

“Boys, this is Will Watts, Will, this is Jeremy, Simon, and Ricky. They’re obviously a band. That’s Edward Scott, he’s our producer. Right now we have a problem.” If looks could kill, Nigel would have been dead three times over by the way the band was glaring at him. He seemed to have lost the ability to speak, his mouth flapping a bit, but unable to continue.

“We’ve lost a member.” Edward finished softly, saving Nigel from his own silence.

“What?” I breathed. “James left?”

“Not exactly.” Nigel said, gradually getting quieter.

“James is dead.” Simon snapped, obviously angry at the ambiguity of it. “There was a car crash last week. He’s dead, he’s dead, just fucking say it Nigel.”

“Mind your tone.” Nigel shot back as forcefully as his anxiety would allow, but I was barely listening. I couldn’t say anything. My mouth just hung open. 

“Why haven’t I heard about this?” I asked finally. “Why hasn’t anyone heard about this? People will be heartbroken!” 

“That’s part of the problem we’re trying to avoid.” Nigel said. “No one is allowed to know.”

“Yet.” Ricky added.

“Er, no.” Nigel stumbled, "No one is going to know."

"They're going to notice if one of our lead singers is gone." Simon said sharply.

"That's where Will comes in." Nigel gestured to me, and suddenly I felt extremely exposed. I knew as little about what he was talking about as the band did, but now they all glared daggers at me as the implication of what Nigel was saying began to click. 

"Nigel," Jeremy spoke up, seeming to want to cut off anyone else's potential anger. "Are you suggesting we use this man to hide a James' death from the public?" 

Nigel's unease was palpable, his face white, but he gave no answer. Jeremy turned to Edward instead, who took a long sigh.

 "That is the idea." He said. I could feel the color quickly leaving my face. He couldn’t possibly be serious.

Simon slowly stood up from his chair, locking eyes with Nigel. He gradually and deliberately made his way to him until their noses were practically touching. 

"Nigel," he whispered. "You're absolutely, fucking, MENTAL!" He screamed the last word, grabbing his manager by the lapel.

"Get your hands off me!" Nigel said, pushing Simon away. He seemed to have recovered some sense of confidence. "I know this isn't ideal. But Gold Bar has decided it’s the best option right now.”

“The fuck you have!” Simon shouted. “We didn’t get any say in this?”

“It’s not your decision.” Nigel yelled back. Then he took a breath and seemed to reevaluate. “Look, right now the world is unsteady. Like it or not, you’re icons, and that means your impact is important. You’re a refuge for people who have too much to deal with as it is. Pop culture is an escape, and if that’s disrupted it could make things worse than they already are.”

“Oh shut up.” Simon groaned loudly. “You’re a company, we’re your assets. Don’t make it sound like world peace, you cunt.” None of the others interjected, and it didn’t look like they disagreed at all, not even his producer.

“You can think what you like, this is non-negotiable.” Nigel replied. He seemed to have given up on convincing them. Simon turned to Edward instead, who didn’t look back at him. 

“You knew about this?” He asked. There was a softer edge to his voice that wasn’t present with Nigel. It sounded more like betrayal than anger.

“I was told,” Edward replied, gently, “just like you.”

“When?” Simon’s voice cracked as he said it.

“A couple days after the crash. It wasn’t my decision either.”

Simon just shook his head in utter disgust and disbelief. Silence fell again. 

“I suppose... you’re going to be training him to play, yeah?” Ricky asked quietly. 

“No,” Simon interrupted before Nigel could respond. “You’re not actually considering this a possibility.” It wasn’t a question, it was almost an order. 

“What choice do we have?” Jeremy muttered quietly. He hadn’t stopped staring at the floor for several minutes. “You heard the man”

“We can quit!” Simon said desperately. “Tell everyone what they’re trying to do to us!” He pointed venomously at Nigel.

“Maybe he’s right though.” Said Jeremy. “Maybe it’s best we try to get back to normal.”

“It’s not normal!” Simon screamed. His voice reverberated around the small room. “My best friend just died! We’re not going to be normal again, there’s nothing ‘normal’ about any of this!”

“You think you’re the only one who’s hurt?” Jeremy said sternly, standing up. He was a good few inches taller than Simon and looked angrily down on him. 

“I seem to be!” he replied loudly. “If you’re just going to give up like this I can’t see-”

“Don’t tell me how I feel!” Jeremy yelled. “You have no idea how this impacted me!”

Everyone fell silent for a long time. No one wanted to be the first to speak. 

Nigel cleared his throat hesitantly. “That’s all I needed from you today. Will,” he turned to me, “I just need one more moment with you, I’ll see you out.” 

I followed him out the door silently. I was still in shock. Before I shut the door behind me I took a glance back at the rockstars I had just met, likely on the worst terms possible. They all looked back furiously. I averted my eyes quickly and shut the door. 

On the doorstep, Nigel couldn’t look me in the eye. I desperately wished he would. I needed some certainty, something I could grasp, even just a look that wasn’t embrewed with rage. 

“I’m sorry about that.” He said, looking at the doormat, the street, his hands, and everywhere but my face. I wanted to ask how he would have wanted them to react to such a statement, but I didn’t.  “They’ll come around. But you’ll consider the offer, won’t you?” 

What could I even say to that? “Are you seriously asking this from me?” I held my own hands to stop them from shaking. “To take over someone else’s life?”

“If you don’t accept we’ll just find someone else. I’m sure there’s people dying for this chance.- Pardon my wording.” He said. Finally he made eye contact.  “It’s your chance to famous. Be loved, respected across nations. You wouldn’t even have to work at it first. And really, your voice is an impeccable match.” The way he dangled it in front of me you’d think it was nothing. But then I thought about my life back home. What did I really have to go back to? What would I do when I returned? Not only with the next few days, but the next months and years. I shook my head slightly at even considering it. It was absolutely insane, not even counting the disrespect to the dead. But even standing there in front of the studio, the more I thought about it, the more it rolled around feeling more normal in my mind, the more tempting it seemed. 

“Will you let me think about it?” I asked.

“Of course.” Nigel said. He put a hand on my shoulder again. “You have my number, call me when you make your decision.” 

Then he turned, descended the steps, and made his way to a white car parked on the street. I just stood there, stunned and finally alone. I had to focus on every step I took just to get down the porch steps. It took me another few seconds to remember which way I had to go. I began trying to navigate my way back to the bus stop while trying to juggle everything that had been said to me. But before I could get very far, I heard a voice call my name from behind me. I turned just in time to see Edward Scott pull the door shut as he stepped out into the cold November air. 

"Do you mind if I walk with you?" He asked politely. In truth, I did. I was feeling distinctly overwhelmed as it was, and didn't know if I could handle any more poking and prodding at my judgement. 

But "No, I don't mind." was what I said. 

"That's kind of you." He said, pulling on a pair of knitted gloves. "I'm sure you're fairly overwhelmed." 

"A bit." I said, trying not to sound sharp. 

"I'm sorry Nigel didn't tell you what you were walking into. I saw your face in there, you looked terrified." His tired hazel eyes were very sincere. I didn't know if this was simply how he normally looked, but it was a welcome change from Nigel's panicked glancing.

"I was." I said sheepishly. "I… am." 

"Will, I want to be honest with you." His tone shifted from sympathy to sternness. "This could be many people's dream come true. But it could be many people's nightmare. You don't have to do this if you don't want to." He sighed. "I can't guarantee how the boys will react if you choose to. And frankly, I won't make apologies for them. They just lost a close friend. For Simon, his closest. You'd have to have surgery, you'd have to learn how to play guitar and bass-" he cut himself off rather quickly and asked "do you play guitar?"

I shook my head. 

“I play piano a little but that’s it.”

“Hm.” Edward nodded, extracting a cigarette box from his coat and pulling one out. He offered one to me, but I declined. “I just want you to consider all sides of it.” he said. 

“I appreciate that.” His honesty was refreshing, but it didn’t help put my mind at ease. My mind almost drew a blank, this was so outside anything I’d ever expected from my life I didn’t know what to feel. “Nigel’s really set on this plan, isn’t he?” I asked.

“It sounds like it.” Edward replied. “I should have fought him harder, but their minds are made up now.” 

I barely listened. My face must have been pretty blank, because when Edward looked back at me, he sighed lightly and said, “I should let you go.”

I realized how distant I had been and stopped to look back. 

“I’m sorry.” I said, trying to refocus. 

“Don’t be.” He stuck out his hand. “It was nice to meet you, Will.”

#tw death #tw swearing #tw car accident #tw car wreck #tw smoking #i think that's all #it's LONG sorry

[belizedeservesbetter]

Rock of Ages is Hadestown

I don’t really know if this is a review or my upcoming college thesis 

I’ve always loved Rock of Ages. It’s so fun. It’s so dumb. But it’s also so smart. Rock of Ages knows exactly who Rock of Ages is and should be. Rock of Ages is exactly what Rock of Ages wants to be. It’s a blast and the songs are of course good and it’s funny and full of heart and there’s actually some really wonderful theatrical moments and I’m thrilled that it’s back at New World Stages for the summer. But as I sat there watching the show on Thursday, I realized something. 

Rock of Ages is Hadestown. 

The plot is literally the same. Young musician working in a restaurant falls in love with a girl who wants more out of life but young musician can’t give her what she wants and eventually sells her soul to the devil. All the while, a fun narrator steps in and out of the plot and a second story of young love and falling out of love occur between the older character. Three women who sing together are also involved. That is a vast oversimplification of both stories but you get my idea. 

Orpheus, then, is Drew. The wannabe musician with a big heart, good intentions but not the smartest or most logical person. Drew, who throughout the show writes a song that will Change Rock and Roll (and in Orpheus’ case, the world). This song that makes their female love interest fall in love with them. In this current production of Rock of Ages, he’s played by CJ Eldred, who looks STRIKINGLY like Reeve Carney, but can actually act. 

tell me that is not Reeve. tell me they are not long lost siblings or at least dopplegangers

Which brings us to Sherrie, aka Eurydice, who has blown in from nowhere and bumps into Drew/Orpheus and there is an instant connection that is only bolstered by a lovely duet by the Greeks and a shared slushee by the rockers. Sherrie, like Eurydice, is a “hungry young girl” who wants more out of life. Where Eurydice wants... something, I guess, Sherrie wants to be an actress. Kirsten Scott sings the hell out of all her songs and is a sheer delight to watch on stage. Sherrie and Drew have a good thing going until Drew mentions just how good of friends they are. 

Am I equating Orpheus’ inability to do anything but write his “La La La” song with a nervous Drew accidentally telling Sherrie they’re just friends? Yes. Yes and the scene it happens in the show is hilarious. There’s this wooden car set that Drew brings on and off that is SO cheesy and SO hilarious and they all know it too. There’s even a part where Drew mimes opening and closing the car door even though there is no door that was Comedy Gold. 

Which brings us to Hades, aka Stacee Jaxx. Where Eurydice sells her soul to Hades and goes way down to Hadestown, Sherrie sleeps with Stacee, who then gets her fired and puts a rift between her and Drew. Stacee Jaxx is as gross and sleazy as they come, and PJ Griffith (whose bio on the website is fun) works every second of it. His story ends with Sherrie breaking his nose before he has to flee the country. Where Hades is revealed to Have a Heart, Stacee is kicked to the curb, which I liked. I liked that the Big RockStar ends the show with nothing and no one. 

The Hermes of Rock of Ages is Lonny, who is both the narrator of the show and a character who influences the plot. “Just Like Paradise/Nothin’ But a Good Time” is literally Road to Hell and all the characters and themes are introduced right from the start. Lonny steps in to narrate quite a bit, going so far as to interrupt Drew’s train of thought towards the end of the show which leads to this funny “You’re in a musical called Rock of Ages and it used to be on Broadway and now it’s not and they made a movie out of it” moment which was absolutely on the nose but they KNEW it was on the nose and worked with it. Mitchell Jarvis, who created the role of Lonny, is back in this current Off-Broadway production and he is spectacular. You can tell he loves everything about this role and this show and he is having a fantastic time and you the audience are having a fantastic time with him. 

This is where it becomes a bit more of a stretch but bear with me on this so there are three waitresses who also work at The Bourbon Room and while they ominously sing like The Fates, they do pop in to provide Sherrie with some comfort every now and then. They’re also super cool and do some really incredible dancing. The standout waitress, also known as Waitress #1, is Katie Webber and holy shit she’s incredible. She was also in the original cast of the show and you can tell how much she loves it. 

This is even more of a stretch but the characters Dennis and Justice combined make Persephone. Dennis, the owner of The Bourbon Room, talks about Stacee Jaxx with a lot of love and nostalgia, which makes me think he had feelings for him at some point. Considering Dennis ends up with Lonny at the end, I think I could be right in this. This is probably adding layers to Rock of Ages that isn’t there but I think Dennis really loved Stacee and was hurt to see him leave him in the dust like that. Matt Ban plays Dennis currently and gives Dennis a strong “Tired Dad” vibe, which worked well for the character. He also had great chemistry with Mitchell Jarvis.

Justice also gives me big Persephone vibes, especially her moment with Sherrie where she talks about how she was in love once and how she’s not as happy as she used to be. I’ll definitely take “Pour Some Sugar On Me” (and Dennis’ “Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore”) as this show’s “Our Lady of the Underground” and maybe some of her verses in “Chant.” Jeannette Bayardelle was wonderful as Justice. She also had this glitter lipstick that looked like the glitter lips from Priscilla - Queen of the Desert which I love love loved. 

A lot of the themes are the same - with the ones on climate change, the workforce and capitalism being summed up in the Regina (pronounced like vagina)/Hertz plotline about tearing down the Sunset Strip. Of course the Orpheus/Eurydice themes match up surprisingly well with the Drew/Sherrie ones too. Actually, I think it’s interesting how Rock of Ages goes further in exploring what happens when Drew does get what he wants, like what happens when his songs do get noticed and how it turns out to be not what he wants after all. 

And in this current production, there’s even a Tall Ensemble Man, played by Michael Mahany, who, again, is clearly having a great time. He’s also the sole male ensemble member (not including Mekhai Lee because he plays The Mayor and Drew’s Agent mostly) which makes the big ensemble dance breaks really funny. 

The set is also literally the same as Hadestown, but more rock and roll. There’s literally the stares Hades uses to go up and down from his little patio, but this time they go into Dennis office. To be quite honest, I fully expect the inevitable Hadestown revival in the far off future to be staged in a rock and roll bar/club like The Bourbon Room. It fits the story perfectly.

The big difference is that Rock of Ages ends happily. Drew and Sherrie actually get to live happily ever after, which Orpheus and Eurydice don’t get to do. 

There is so much I love about Rock of Ages. It’s an absolute blast. I love seeing it because it’s sheer escapism. There’s nothing I have to think too hard on and it’s not a show that tries to be that either. I love how you can tell what songs they only got partial rights to, like the split second moment where Stacee sings Styx’s “Renegade.” I love how much fun everyone is having, especially Tall Ensemble Man. I love that the ending is absolutely ridiculous and Dennis is briefly mentioned to have died, but he comes back as an Angel that gets rid of Stacee Jaxx. I love that Lonny tells Drew to fuck the book writers of the musical. And I love that Rock of Ages has its flaws and problematic jokes, cause it keeps me humble. It reminds me that I’m seeing Rock of Ages and not a Serious Show. I love how much fun and how drunk the audience is for this show. I love that this is the closest thing to Straight Culture I’m ever gonna see, which is fascinating to say the least. I love the merchandise the show has! You can get Wolfgang Von Colt (Drew’s stage name) t-shirts that look like Drew made them himself. I love that you can buy Arsenal (Stacee Jaxx’s band) sweatshirts that look like Stacee designed them himself. I love that the band is onstage the entire time and I love that they are Arsenal and are constantly flipping off Stacee. 

Also! We don’t give enough credit to director Kristin Hanggi! Why do we always forget about her when we talk about female directors? She's been with this show right from the start! She’s infused this show with so much satire. It’s really a lot more progressive than you’d think. 

And this show is so fun. It’s so so fun. I understand why there’s die hard Rock of Ages fans who’ve seen this show hundreds of times. 

Go check out Rock of Ages at New World Stages till the end of summer! New World Stages has actually become a great spot for post-Broadway shows, like Jersey Boys and Play That Goes Wrong. There’s also Puffs, which I liked even though I’m a little traumatized from it. And there’s also Gazillion Bubble Show, if you’re into that. 

#rock of ages #review #broadway #off-broadway #i will die on this hill i love this show #voice

[fiercyy]

We Need To Talk

A Viktuuri and Viktuuriyuri family fic <3

When Yuuri receives a text from Victor one morning, he tries very hard not to panic.

Vitenka (Blue heart, purple heart, gold medal, eggplant, hearteyes emoji): We need to talk tonight after dinner with Yura.

Perhaps Yuuri has been exposed to too much pop culture during his time in the States, but to him ‘we need to talk’ never spells out anything good. He resists the urge to immediately text back a thousand questions and demands about what they would be talking about, if he was okay, what Yuuri did wrong and if he would find his own suitcase packed and left by the door, or would he have to pack it all up himself when Viktor kicked him to the curb?

Yuuri had a really good morning. He woke up on his own, which was a miracle unto itself. To celebrate beating Viktor to consciousness, he kissed his fiancé awake. And maybe they were a little late getting out of bed because of it. “I’m sure my coach won’t mind,” Yuuri had teased and touched his nose to Viktor’s, then kissed his cheek. When he pulled away, Viktor was bright pink, from nose to ears and his smile was soppy and sweet. “You can’t say things like that!” Viktor had complained before throwing his arms around Yuuri, “It’s too adorable, I won’t survive. You’re trying to kill me aren’t you? Is this so I won’t make you do suicides again? I knew it! My Yuuri is so cruel!” All the while, smothering Yuuri by rolling on top of him.

A really good morning. They’d skipped their run because of it, went straight to the rink (where Yuuri and Viktor both cleanly skated their new programs for the first time). Then lunch together before parting ways for cross training.

That was fifteen minutes ago. What could have changed that Viktor could possibly want to talk about?! Or maybe it was about lunch or practice or this morning and he just hadn’t worked up the courage to talk to him yet. Maybe he’s been plotting a way to let him down easy. If so, Yuuri feels terrible about this morning, but also, incredibly glad that at least he’ll have one last time to remember him by.

But maybe it wasn’t as good for Viktor as it was for Yuuri? If Yuuri was doing something wrong, why wouldn’t Viktor just tell him? He could get better, probably. He hears there are advice columns all over the internet. He listens to podcasts on long runs now, there must be one that tells you how to be better in bed so your five-time gold medalist, perfect specimen of manhood fiancé stays in love with you.

“Katsudon, you’ve been in that forward split for ten minutes, are you showing off or did you fall asleep?” Yurio is sharing his ballet session. He hides his worry poorly. Or maybe Yuuri just knows him well at this point. His heart sinks. He’ll miss him so much when Viktor dumps him and he has to move back to Hasetsu and retire.

Yuuri shrugs and hopes he doesn’t pry further. The sixteen-year-old doesn’t. Instead he nudges him into pair stretches.

The anxiety chews on his heart, feral and unrelenting in its hunger. Yuuri’s own mind won’t rest until it consumes him one rending bite at a time.

While he does a pas de bourré into a plié, then saute, he circles back to the way he felt when Viktor first came to Hasetsu. He’d wondered then, how this could possibly be his life. He kept his distance out of self-preservation, because when Viktor eventually grew bored and left, any closeness would be ripped away, taking parts of him along with it. Yuuri could not afford to become dependent on Viktor’s kindness. Or later, Viktor’s love. Except it didn’t matter what Yuuri could and could not afford to feel. His foolish heart learned to beat for him, to the rhythm of the programs they choreographed together.

Yuuri’s stupid soul would suffer now that the inevitable had arrived.

Yurio clearly doesn’t want to leave Yuuri alone. Their cooldown session is quiet and punctuated by the boy starting a sentence and interrupting himself. It’s unlike him. Yuuri wants to pull him into his arms. That’s unlike him too.

“Stop looking at me like that. It’s freaking me out,” Yurio spits. “Why do you look like someone died? Is the idiot—” he means Viktor, “Ill?” he seems unconcerned by the prospect, but then he pales as something occurs to him, “Are you ill? Is Makkachin?”

And because Yuuri does not want to lie to him, but also does not want to tell him the truth at all ever, he throws his hands up and shakes his head. “No, no, nothing like that. Just in my own head today.” This is true every day, but it would be impossible to explain the day to day torment of living inside of his own brain. Plus, it might traumatize Yurio and make him second guess his decision to allow Yuuri and Viktor to ostensibly, semi-non-officially adopt him. Oh no… who gets to keep Yurio in the divorce?

Divorce? Oh god. Divorced before they’ve even made it to the altar. Maybe, now that Viktor is feeling inspired and skating again, he doesn’t need Yuuri in his life after all.

Yurio neatly answers the question of ‘who gets custody in the divorce’ by dragging him out the door and declaring that he’s going to drive Yuuri’s car home. Maybe custody is relative and Yurio takes care of himself.

He’s supposed to be supervising said driving since Yurio technically does not have a license, but instead Yuuri stares on the passenger window until he gets nauseous and has to close his eyes. The car stops and he opens them to find they’re at a grocery store.

“Your moron husband forgot to pick up garlic.”

“Not married,” he says and swallows down the bitter yet that gets stuck in his throat.

Yurio groans, “Have you not gotten that over with yet?” He knows very well that they haven’t. They once joked about eloping, which Yurio pretended not to have an apoplectic fit over. Viktor promises they’ll make Yurio their flower boy. Privately, Yuuri eggs him on because he knows that deep down, beyond the fury, he’s actually very touched.

Yurio takes one look at him and rolls his eyes, “Wait in the car,” he orders and slams the door. Yuuri listens and tries to take on the terrible spiralling tornado of fear. He needs to at least find the eye because it’s starting to suck the oxygen out of everything.

We need to talk we need to talk we need to talk we need to-

Soon, the door opens again and Yurio slides in. “Finally, the line was so-“ Yuuri startles and realizes there are tears on his cheeks. “Why are you crying?! Stop it!” He’s still not very good with Emotions™, but he’s doing his best. Yuuri and Viktor just have so many between them, it’s unreasonable to expect him to keep up. Generally, when the tears arrive, Yurio shoves him into Viktor’s arms. Yuuri’s not keen on that option at this moment.

They make it home with only a few awkward glances between them. The teen has his own key so he lets them in.

Yuuri doesn’t know what he was expecting to find upon returning home.

(Lies. As previously noted, he expected suitcases and packed bags and Viktor’s solemn face as he handed the ring back. He imagined kindness and pity but not love in his eyes. He wondered which would be his problem, if he’d be able to beg or be able to stop himself from begging. He knows he’d have cried, he doesn’t know if he’d have been able to speak at all.)

But Viktor is bustling around the kitchen, singing to himself. In the span of this moment, Yuuri exists outside of his worries. Ten feet away, the love of his life is making a family recipe that Hiroko passed on to him. He sings, and Yuuri’s not so far gone that he thinks Viktor a nightingale, but he loves the sound all the same. His bangs are clipped back behind his ear, his cheeks are rosy from the warmth of the stove. He dances around the kitchen, swaying his hips to the rhythm in his head. Then Yuuri realizes that he hasn’t looked up because he’s wearing headphones and hasn’t heard them yet.

Yurio aggressively removes his hat and launches it at Viktor in one motion. The older man startles and catches it, right before it falls onto a burner. “Vot tye na!” But then he sees them and his whole face lights up. It’s like watching dawn break over the mountains back. “You’re home!”

He’s not going to leave him. When Viktor looks at him, it’s hard for Yuuri to deny that he is loved because Viktor lays it all out in the open. He has never hidden his regard or intentions for even a moment. He loves wholly and without reservation.

The moment ends. The demons pipe up. Yuuri has been wrong before.

He tells himself all the things his therapist told him to. That he is safe. He is loved. He can trust the people around him. He’s going to be okay.

Dinner is a trial. Yuuri usually loves these dinners and he’s furious with himself for ruining what might be their last one. Because Viktor wants to talk. He gets quieter and quieter and shrinks down into his chair until he can’t take it anymore.

Viktor keeps the conversation going. He is cheerful and upbeat, but he keeps sneaking glances Yuuri’s way. Can he not wait to get this over with? Is he itching to be rid of him? He’s bad company, he knows it. He should be a better host, for Yurio at least. Who wants to be with someone who’s always sad and anxious, dragging down everyone around them. Viktor asks about Yurio’s day like the proud dad he is. Viktor would make such a good dad. In the vague way that he considers his future after skating, Yuuri hoped he’d get to co-parent with him someday. Again. From the beginning. Not that having a 15-year-old rage monster drop into their laps wasn’t a blessing. Maybe that’s part of it, who knows? He wouldn’t choose himself as a co-parent either.

Viktor holds his phone aloft, loudly reading all of Otabek’s tweets that Yurio has liked in the past 48 hours, while the kid tries to climb him like a tree to steal it and throw it down the garbage disposal. “Give it here old man, at least my twitter’s not some disgusting shrine to Katsudon like yours is-!”

“No, you took down the shrine to Yuuri in your locker when we moved to St-Petersburg!” He teases, “Is the one in your room at your Zaida’s house still up?”

“SHUT UP!”

And that’s all it takes, it’s all over for Yuuri. He starts to laugh and he starts to cry and the two men in his life stop roughhousing immediately, to stare at him in abject horror. They’ve both gotten better at dealing with crying, in their own ways, but they’re still terrible. They glance at each other, then back at him, then back at each other.

“Hey! Don’t cry! Look what you did asshole, you made Katsudon emotional!”

“Yuuri, oh no, are you okay? What should I do? Do you need-?”

Yuuri hiccups and tries to calm down, but he’s suddenly hyperventilating. “I…hic…I’m just…hic… I’m so happy,” he sobs. “I don’t want this to end.”

“Twice in one day? Why are you always crying?”

Viktor looks nonplussed, “You were crying earlier? He was crying earlier? When?” his gaze switches back and forth between the two Yuris, worry blooming like a bruise. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Yurio doesn’t seem to know what to do. He can’t drive himself home and he clearly does not want to be here for this conversation. He pushes back from the table, and because he was raised right, he takes his plate with him and deposits it in the dishwasher. “I’ll be in the guest room, he better not be crying when I come out.” It seems silly to Yuuri, to refer to it as the guest room, when he’s the only one who ever stays in it.

He was worried before, but now Viktor looks panicked, “Yuuri…”

“What did you want to talk about?” he says in a rush. He wants to get this over with. He doesn’t want to get this over with.

Viktor ignores the question.

“Zolotse,” Viktor switches to the chair closest to Yuuri and scoots it even closer, so he can get his hands on him. “Why are you crying if you’re happy?”

Yuuri accepts the hug, lets himself succumb to it, “Because I want to keep it. I don’t want anything to change. Please just… can we not talk about this?”

Viktor pulls away suddenly, violently, to look him in the eye. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, I just thought…” He closes his mouth and looks grim. “Never mind. It’s fine. Forget I said anything. Everything is fine. I am fine.”

Yuuri is not convinced. Viktor’s pain enables Yuuri to function in a way he can’t for himself. He wants to reach out, to comfort him now. Why is Viktor’s heart breaking before his very eyes?

“Wait,” he orders, grabbing his hand to keep him from running away. “I’m sorry. Anything you need to tell me, you can tell me. I’ll listen, I’ll always listen to you. What did you want to tell me?”

“It’s not about getting married,” Viktor swears, and it’s a crack in poor Yuuri’s resolve to listen. It’s cruel of him, to reject him so blatantly though. “I promise I won’t pressure you. Whenever you’re ready. I know I said when you win gold, but just because you won doesn’t mean we have to. You owe me five after all,” Panicked, “I’m joking! Everything can stay exactly the same. I’m lucky to have that much. I won’t ask for more, I won’t.”

“…So… you don’t want to marry me.” He thought he was prepared, but he was not.

Viktor once accused him of willfully misunderstanding him when they fight. He reminds him of this now. “That is not what I said! I’ve wanted to marry you since the day we met. You can even ask Chris. I said that to him. At the banquet I told him, ‘I am going to marry that man, unless he is straight. Please Chris, tell me that he is not straight because I will cry’, I swear.”

“So you’re not leaving me?” Yuuri is wary of getting his hopes up.

“Leave you?!?!”

The way he says it makes Yuuri defensive, like he’s being ridiculous. “You texted me that we need to talk!”

“Yes. Admittedly, your English is better, but how does that translate to breaking up?”

“Everyone knows that ‘we need to talk’ is code for ‘it’s not me, it’s you’, which is code for ‘it’s definitely you’!”

“What.” Viktor scratches his nose. “This is an American thing?”

“Yes.”

“So what do you say if you really just need to talk about something?”

This gives Yuuri pause, because he actually doesn’t know. He shrugs, “Not fucking that.” He might still be a little hysterical.

“Yuuuuuuuriiiiii!”

He sighs, “You know how my mind can be. I guess when I read your text, it got away from me, I thought of the worst case scenario and I spiralled.”

“Okay,” of course, Viktor is ever on a quest to be accommodating of Yuuri’s mental illness. “Then I won’t do that. I won’t prepare you. I’ll just surprise you!”

Wait. Is that worse? That might be worse.

“Surprise! I want to get a puppy! Thoughts?”

“What about Makka?”

“I think Makka could use a little brother or sister! She gets so lonely.” Upon hearing her name, Makkachin, who is very spoiled for attention, woofs from her fancy premium dog bed and prances over to join them. She drops her chin on Yuuri’s thigh, in an oddly accurate representation of her dad’s pout. “Look at her Yuuri, don’t you want another?”

He can’t believe he questioned whether or not Viktor wanted to co-parent with him. They share custody of a poodle.

“And the angriest kitten in all the land!” Viktor adds, when Yuuri verbalizes this.

“HEY!” They all jump and spin around. Yurio stands in the kitchen, holding a cup of water, peering suspiciously over the rim. “You better not be talking about me!”

They are definitely talking about him.

Later, they’re halfway through a movie and Yurio is asleep on the other couch. Viktor and Yuuri snuggle beneath a blanket and Makkachin snoozes on the ottoman by their feet. “I love you,” Viktor says into Yuuri’s hair, “And I want things to change,” he admits bravely. “But only if you want those things too.”

“More dogs?”

They smile.

“More dogs, more rings, more moody teenagers maybe?”

“Can we get those as puppies too?” Yuuri asks, lips against Viktor’s temple.

“Yuuri!” he cries in delight, “Are you asking me to be your baby daddy?”

“YOU TWO ARE DISGUSTING!”

Oops. The kitten is awake after all.

#viktuuri #victuuri #yuri on ice #yoi #viktuuriyuri #yuri!!! on ice #fanfiction #anxiety #yoi fanfiction #texting #my fic #yuri plisetsky #yuuri katsuki #viktor nikiforov #katsudon

[paraclete0407]

Pretty sure I'm going to become Catholic if I don't die from Delta tonight - I've been thinking about it my whole life and I feel awful contemplating how much time and how many people I've lost.  Recently I concluded what might have been my last intimate love-relationship with someone - the last person I feel I ever wanted to marry, it's just  over now. I have a lot of flaws like sensualism, aestheticism, expectation of unending maternal unconditional love.  Ever since 18 I relied on the same few pieces of music to hold me, Franz Biebl's 'Ave Maria,' Praetorius' 'Es It Ein Rosentsprungen.'  Biebl only wrote a few pieces of music in his life. I don't know why in the past decade I went to war with the world when meekness had seen me through for a long time and kept me surprising everyone who said I wasn't doing enough or getting with the times.  I'm really dumb, blind.  I also accumulated various cupidities and preciosities.  It's pathetic.  Today there are race-wars, class-wars, gender-wars, identity-wars, age-wars.  Covid I still feel is just anti-Asian racism though - I can't see it any other way and I always, always lose my motivation for studying or reading about anything but the history of Western imperialism.  I don't want to speak ill of Protestants b/c I read Metaxas' Luther bioraphy at least in part and the cynicism of that priesthood... but 'Heil Hitler point 1' in Milwaukee is like 'Joshua and genocide' every day, showing no mercy.  I love John Piper, John MacArthur, RC Sproul I only wish I'd listened more like 35 years ago.  But.  Chest-beating.  However the fault is mine for I'd be more masculine if I simply abided with probity by the rules of Scripture and subjected myself to wholesome discipline.  I don't know why I'm so skittish of everything. Honestly I'm a Satanist - in the Baudelarean sense and otherwise.  There was a student I worked with in KR who reminded me of the poem 'Benediction' which is 'bad sauce' but poems like that and K-Pop stuff like Aespa or 'Lamborghini Angels' by Lupe fiasco is kind of 'advanced, ultramodern' religious contents.  I can't say more than that b/c those are real people and also part of my 'patrimony' or simply my experience as a man / human; specific responsibilities. One thing I really regret is in past I always tried to blow my family off with cheap gifts which was 'pozzed' b/c cheap gifts and fake gifts and twisted as opposed to linear gifts is part of what's wrong with all of Europe Germany Netherlands et cetera.  Like, 'I have a perfect idea- nah, let me f--- it up to personalize it or sth.'  Milwaukee's obsessed with ethnography like 'Wales has mining and its own language' but they never ethnographize German culture which is all about hiding your virtue and doing less than you can - 'be more than you seem.'  But why?  It's completely diametrically anti-biblical to hide your light.  Anyway criticizing the Church when 4 million people died and my own DNA (Dutch) just got an 800% spike in Delta infections might seem kind of idle / academic but lit-crit is sth I've been doing all my life.  Why wait? I keep thinking of 'Lincoln' lately which is not a great movie and Kushner says a lot of dumb stuff.  But the 'now now now' and 'millions unborn' is absolutely epic and it's what is going on right now all the time.  Today I got lost in Chicago while trying to report to the ROK Consul General literally to discuss matters fro mthe past as well as literally to tell them to evacuate Koreans from Milwaukee (most of the ones I knew in past are already gone).  Right now I wish I could make myself as little but perfect a box / chamber as possible in which to exist like a prison-cell just to I stop wrecking my own chances.  I also remembered a Sowon hyper-fanfic called 'My Brother's Type' about someone I knew who used to like these leggy lissome slightly remote types but decided to trash their own taste in women (nothing wrong with changing mind per se but) and deciding B-52's and gangster / clan / tribal conspiracy is better than being open and honest.  Ironically 'B-52' was a nickname given to Chairman Mao by I think [I forget]'s son since he had a huge stomach that dropped out all kinds of murderous ideas which again I can't see any other way but that's the origin of Covid.  I was thinking of all these snice things to say about my carpet-bombing-philc family but thta's pozzed too at this point I just need to get baptized and hopefully plenary indulgence(?) before  Iget flamethrowered in my containment-zone.  I remember this picture of a Vietnamese woman with a crashed B in the background; I read 'Fire Road' and 'Ru' with that boy named Pascal and I read 'Pensees' over and over and over again like, 'Finally my friend.'  if I live to be even 51 or 52 I really want to go back to Asia or even just K-Town LA; I miss all my friends; I hear them, Protestants don't need me, Milwaukee doesn't need me, I'm just a 'little flower' or something.   I remembered today the face of the person I most wanted ot marry and the day we went on this kind of 'communication session' with a chaperone(?); went home and started reading Proust feeling 'everlasting gratitude.'  Never finished Proust nearly.  I bought a Korean language version of 'The Remains of the Day' which was the other novel I read that year and remembered trying to interpret 'South of the Border West of the Sun' in terms of a geographic-anagogic sort of Dantean-Northrop-Fryian system that would turn the title in to 'Before the Beginning and After the End.'  Sitting in the meditation-garden of the Church of Peter and Paul and just thinking of sailed ships and corners turned but that too was years ago.  I don't even know how to work gas-station pumps anymore.  Remebering the last words of someone from a vanished era, the 1990s when we thought that every little people could have their own republic and now the passive resistance people in Myanmar etc. are all getting jailed by dictators.  Richard Holbrooke with his arterial dissection, 'I love so many people.'  Maybe I should just wait outside the local church gate all night; little kids from Syria in France and such are sleeping in parks.  IDK why I stopped letting myself be acted on b/c my typical 'seizure of agency, self-coup' modus operandi is to headbutt immoveable objects and feast the obese.  I should've been a Jesuit or Cistercian, love Bernard of Clairvaux, 'Honey and Salt.' I am only sad that HH.1 et al. talk so much about saints from like 500 years ago in this 'winter of peril' era.  Where is Francis Chan?   Llove Augustine who seems to be watching over the whole world right now, 'an intellectual giant,' hoping we will all remember Original Sin and the 'curse in hope' instead of thinking of C19 as somebody's technical error / lack of being a smart Democrat... I also liked 'Humana Vitae' to say the least; Koreans always talk about love of life and I realize death and evil and the Devil are things I should've taken more seriously in the past but... Anyway I also noticed how people are scrambling to conceptualize everything in terms of 'oxygenation' nowadays.  Concept of 'holiness' related to separateness but what can that mean if not integrity when we're all part of the metabolism of the Earth.  I'm saying too much now I always do too much or too little.  The future appears to be cereal-grains and the consciousness of chains. I ate some 'rice-salad' and remembered 'The Last of Hanako' just to hopefully teach myself once and for all that my mother's body is a graveyard of her best dreams b/c women in the end [cynical I-read-Nabokov] - 'Abolition of Woman' Gen-Alph; 'town bike.'   A few weeks ago I had the 'Stepfather' idea about reading the Episcopalian newspaper with Minju b/c Scripture says don't talk with daddy-daughter 'extend my love to the unfinished woman' ppl but I talked to them again and got R. Kelly'd.   I remember watching 'I Miss You' and almost breaking my hand (Minah looks like s1) but now I'm more trained.  

[minaminokyoko]

A Love Letter to Black Panther

Disclaimer: Y'all gon' get tired of hearing me scream, "WAKANDA FOREVERRRRRRR!"

Because I mean it. Bless this movie, man. This is everything I have ever dreamt of seeing from a black superhero with an all black cast. They couldn't have done a better job. This movie is a vision, fully realized. It's going to leave a very important impact on pop culture at large and I am so here for that. I've been a black nerd since birth, and to be given a big budget film with a 90% black cast that is backed by a studio giant is so gratifying I can see why some people left the theater in tears of joy. It's not that we haven't had black films before that did well. It's not that we're not giving credit to Blade for being a (mostly) successful film franchise with a black hero at the helm. It's all the elements lining up from having Ryan Coogler direct to grabbing actually African cast members to being marketed during the Superbowl--which is the most expensive ad time you can buy on television--to seeing an amazing integration of tradition, science fiction, and modern topics that are relevant to the black community. I sound like I'm overstating things, but I truly am so happy with how this film turned out. It wasn't a cheap cash grab. It was a genuine attempt to weave a story about African and black culture based around a whole lot of ass-whuppin' and I can't wait to dive in. Follow me, Wakandans.

Naturally, spoiler alert.

Let's start with the man himself, the King of Wakanda, T'Challa. First of all, I knew I'd love him since Civil War. Most people went for Tony or Steve and came out of that movie going, "OH MY GOD BLACK PANTHER IS THE FUCKING BADDEST I CANNOT WAIT FOR HIS SOLO MOVIE DUDE." We all knew he was a total badass, but what I left this movie with was a sincere love for the mercy and compassion he showed us in this film. It's very easy in a position with that kind of power to let it corrupt you and become jaded, but the gestures he made in this film were so lovely. I love that he was outraged by his father trying to erase history with what happened to his uncle and cousin. He was genuinely angry and hurt by it all and in the end, he showed so much kindness by letting Kilmonger see the sunrise before he died that it was honestly touching. I love T'Challa because he has such a big heart. It’s an incredibly important perspective to provide, as much of the world still sees black men as angry, dangerous thugs incapable of kindness. He has flaws as well, like his anger issues and naivete, and that's what makes his journey so compelling. It's very easy to write a royalty character as above it all, but that's why Thor: Ragnarok was so well received recently: they knocked Thor off his princely pedestal and brought him down to our level. We understand what T'Challa is going through even though we aren't royalty. He has a homeland to protect and a family to look after in his father's absence, much like we have our own responsibilities trying to tug us in a thousand different ways. I love that he challenged his father and brought about a new era, extending his help to the world. T'Challa is an excellent character and Chadwick Boseman did a hell of a job with him.

As a black woman, you know what's coming next. My girls Nakia, Okoye, and Shuri. Where do I even start? First of all, let me raise my fist for some lovely dark-skinned women getting the spotlight in a major superhero film franchise. Now, don't get me wrong--I absolutely freaking LOVED Tessa Thompson in Thor: Ragnarok. She slayed. But my heart is just bursting with pride at these beautiful badass women who are given weight, agency, and attention in this film. I have absolutely nothing against light-skinned women at all, but I do acknowledge that they tend to get roles easier than dark-skinned women because society still has this idiotic aversion to them because of the establishment's idea of beauty. It was such a rush to see each woman on screen having inner conflict and deciding what side of the line they would stand on. I love Nakia's stubborn nature and her hesitance to join the fray, but the second T'Challa was gone, she switched into spy mode and she did the damn thing. She saved the people who cared about her, she saved Ross, and she stood up for her country as well as the other people out there who needed her help. You are a diamond, Nakia. Okoye is probably going to come out of this film as the runaway favorite, if you ask me. I mean, Danai Gurira is already worshiped for her role as the amazing Michonne on The Walking Dead, but seeing her here, slicing and stabbing and beating the tar out of everyone while struggling with her loyalty to the Wakandan throne just gives me all the feels. I adored her sharp tongue and her grumpy frown and her impossible awesomeness. Then there's Shuri. I can't express my delight with her. She was such an adorable, witty addition to the team. I fully admit that I fell for the low-hanging fruit: the "WHAT ARE THOOOOOOOSE!" joke was hilarious even though I know no one over the age of thirty is going to have a single clue what she was referencing. I loved her calling Ross "colonizer." Shuri was throwing shade left and right and it was glorious. Furthermore, having her be the gadget gal of the film was brilliantly done. I loved her enthusiasm and her amazing tech. I loved that she bravely fought even though she was inexperienced. She was such a great character and I look forward to seeing beautiful little girls idolizing her mind and her strength in the future.

Kilmonger is definitely one of the strongest villains in the MCU so far. Most people ding Marvel for having thin villains, and that's not an unfair assessment. In my opinion, it's Cutting Room Floor issues. When you have to tell a story in two and a half hours, sometimes there's just too much content that you're excited to fit in and you just can't get it in there, so you take out chunks related to the villain to avoid the hero having an unsatisfying character arc. It's not a great idea, because then your villain isn't three dimensional and it can diminish the overall enjoyment of the film. Kilmonger is the answer to that problem. He had a reason for what he did, and while it wasn't an excuse for his cruelty, it definitely made you think about the fact that every good villain is a hero in his own mind. Kilmonger's plan even tempted someone in T'Challa's camp because it had a serious amount of relevance not only to Africans but black people all over the world. Wanting to stomp out oppression, especially in this day and age, is a trap I think a lot of people can fall into. I love the almost Shakespearean tragedy of it all, that maybe this could have been avoided if T'Chaka stayed behind and explained to the boy where he came from and that he had no choice. It probably wouldn't have worked, but just abandoning the kid with his dead father was ice-cold, and it's more tragic that it was done out of good intentions in T'Chaka's mind. I love that T'Challa sympathized with Erik and even offered to save him in the end. That has weight. That's excellent writing. I do admit, though, that Michael B. Jordan is definitely a young actor, because he was hamming it up pretty hard in certain scenes, but overall the kid did well with the role.

The costume design and scenery were just breathtaking. Man, I love the visuals we got to see. African culture is so vibrant and interesting. I'm really delighted knowing millions of people will get some exposure to all the different aspects and traditions it has to offer.

The soundtrack is killer. From the score to the tracks, it was done truly well.

Andy Serkis as Claw (although I don't appreciate the bait and switch, I can live with it; Marvel always kills their villains that are not Loki and even he is probably going to die in Infinity War). I knew he was an oddball in Age of Ultron, but damn, was he a complete nutcase. I appreciate how completely insane he was the whole time with no real explanation as to why. The simple glee on his face when he giggles, "I made it rain!" was just flawless. He might have the market corned for wackiest Marvel villain thus far. I'm sad that we only got to enjoy two performances from Serkis, but they were still entertaining as hell.

The action sequences had me floored. This is one thing I've always adored about Marvel films. The pacing is always excellent and they know how to wow you. If you follow me at all, you'll know one of the numerous reasons I hated the Justice League movie is that there was NO imagination in ANY of the fight scenes. Black Panther offers some of the best and most creative scenes to enjoy, from hand to hand combat to flipping cars with a fucking vibranium spear. I was cringing and twitching in my seat like I was playing a VR of Tekken, for God's sake. These fight scenes were so well done (though I will ding the film for lighting issues; the jungle scene suffered badly from that problem, as did at least one other one to my chagrin) and I loved everyone's various weapons and fighting styles.

MY BOY BUCKY AT THE END CREDITS YOOOOOOOO. I am infatuated with the idea that the Wakandans analyzed him and have been slowly helping him recover from being brainwashed and abused. It made my cold, petrified heart all warm inside when he smiled and looked out over the water. I just want Bucky to be happy, okay?! Leave me alone!

Well, I've gone on long enough, haven't I? I regret nothing, honestly. This is like The Dark Knight all over again: one of those rare instances when the hype for something was so crazy that we were sure it couldn't deliver, but not only did it deliver, it kicked the hell out of all expectations. I can't wait to see where the road will lead from here. My wish and hope is that this movie does so damn well that Hollywood opens its damned eyes and listens to what we have been saying since the beginning: we want diversity and we want it well done and we want it now. Stop relying on the old ideals of a market that we outgrew decades ago. Black people are just as complex and interesting as everyone else on the planet, and it's time you woke up. We've been doing it ourselves with all kinds of various projects from comic books to novels to short films and you can either lead, follow, or get out the way, as Jidenna once said. Your move, Hollywood.

WAKANDA FOREVER.

#Black Panther #marvel #Marvel Cinematic Universe #T'Challa #representation matters #movie review #sorta #film review #Black Panther So Lit #spoiler alert #spoilers

[surrogateself]

Star Wars The Last Jedi: How Movie Magic Dies

0.5 out 4 stars

This is a bad movie. There are barely any redeeming qualities, and it manages to take a huge dump on everything that came before it and everything that will come after it. If the first movie was about a “new hope”, then The Last Jedi is about “no hope at all”. And I say this not just as a fan of Star Wars, but as a fan of cinema in general, including the previous films from director Rian Johnson. Make no mistake, I am not alone on this, many feel the same way about this movie, but for the sake of this piece I will write solely on how this movie affected me personally, and to do that we have to go back to the beginning.

It was the fall of 1986 or maybe it was 1987, I don’t quite remember, but I think I was 7 years old. At this point I had a pretty good idea of what movies were, I had already seen both E.T. and Back to the Future. This time, however, the local tv network was announcing a Star Wars television event, all three original films were going to play continuously starting on a Sunday afternoon. The movies I’ve been hearing about from older people were going to be accessible to me. My cousin, who is 5 years older had a really cool collection of Star Wars toys, the original ones created by Kenner. I loved playing with them.

Watching the original trilogy at the age of 7 has become one of those memories that has never faded. I can’t tell you exactly how I felt in each particular scene, but I do remember where I was and I remember acting out some of the scenes between commercial breaks. Now, stop and think about that for a second. For a 7-year-old boy to be that engaged and excited it's almost magical. This is why Star Wars has transcended cinema and has become an iconic piece of pop culture. And at the center of this phenomenon stands one of the greatest hero archetypes ever created, Luke Skywalker.

SPOILERS AHEAD

Fast forward to 2017, and Luke Skywalker has been replaced by a weird parody version of himself. He’s an old hermit, who’s constantly angry, doesn’t give a fuck about the force, doesn’t give a fuck about his friends or family, and above all, is a complete coward. What happened? How did it come to this? Well, rather than dive into the complexity of these questions, writer/director Rian Johnson creates a half-baked excuse for his exile and concludes that he simply left everything to go die in some planet that contains the oldest Jedi temple. And thus we are exposed to this mess of a film.

But this isn’t how the movie opens, even though The Force Awakens ended in that very epic shot of Luke receiving his father’s lightsaber. The movie opens with some crap jokes and a battle in space that doesn’t really make a lot of sense, the ships are slow and they drop bombs in space…WTF? Ok, I get it, this is Star Wars and its meant to be fantasy, so let's have bombs that drop with no gravity and a remote detonator that also falls in space when the ship’s hatch is open. I accepted it, even the slow motion was welcomed. The problem is that literally 10 minutes later they blow the bridge of general Leia’s ship and she’s floating in space. So which one is it?… how does space work here?

I could end my review right there because everything that follows is these weird random moments that contradict or neglects what was said or happened a few scenes before. I’ll try to continue. So, after the space battle the rebels jump to light speed and vanish, but 5 minutes later the first order arrives and begins an assault that has Kylo Ren considering if he should kill his mom, and thus we get the scene I described before, followed by some force voodoo shit that Leia pulls off. Yes, we know the force is strong in her family but again, they never alluded to this kind of ability in any of the other films. So Leia is literally a god who cannot die in space, don’t question it, its meant to be meta… bro.

The rebels are stuck in this poor excuse for a plot, they have enough fuel for one jump but they can’t because they'll be tracked, so for the next few hours/days (there’s really no sense of time in this movie) they’ll fly with the big bad ship chasing them. Even though a few scenes before, the first order unleashed an assault that almost killed them, why isn’t the first order keep doing this until they’re wiped out? Well… maybe because they’re a bunch of morons, for example, General Hux is portrayed like a buffoon in this movie, while in the force awakens he was menacing and almost had this Nazi behavior about him. But in The Last Jedi, he’s become a character from Space Balls and that only ruins the movie because he ceases to be a threat.

After Finn wakes up from his coma, in what looks like a giant leaking condom, he notices the situation that they’re in, and rather than join the fight, he once again decides to make a run for it. However, his character arc already demonstrated that in the previous movie, he was a trooper than ran because he was scared but developed courage to go up against Kylo Ren and The First Order. Now he’s reverted back to being a coward?… I don’t know why they did this, perhaps it was to build the scene where he meets Rose Tico or what has become the most pointless character in cinema. The entire scene when she meets Finn is awkward and written horribly. But she’s there and she knows what’s causing the first order to track them and suddenly Finn knows too. Then, they communicate this to Poe who then decides to call Maz Kanata, and she tells them to go to the nearby planet where they’ll find a codebreaker that will help them infiltrate the enemy ship to deactivate the light speed tracker. FUCK… I’m pretty sure that’s a run on sentence. This movie is so frustrating that writing a review for it is painful, and that’s how watching the movie feels. I won’t get into this part of the movie because it really doesn’t amount to anything.

So... Luke Skywalker, lol. While all this non-sense with Finn and Rose is happening we get cuts back and forth between Rey and Luke on the island. There’s no training but rather 1 and a half lesson that Rey gets from Luke. She then begins to telepathically connect with Kylo via the force, so at this point, I’m thinking they’re siblings since Luke and Leia did that in Empire, but I’m not sure that’s the case. To be frank, at this point I don’t care. We are now two movies into a new trilogy that follows another trilogy where the heroes won and defeated evil. Yet we have no information about how the first order started or where Snoke appeared from. And to give Luke “fucking” Skywalker this role is just a fuck you to everyone that has enjoyed these films. The man barely knew anything about his evil father and he was ready to die to save him. He gets a quick glimpse of his nephew’s dark side and has a thought of killing him??? Sorry, I don’t buy it. That’s not Luke and even if it was, the reasons for his exile would have to be much more dramatic than that.

This decision in the writing is bad, just as bad as giving Batman a gun or making Harry Potter a rapist. It simply doesn’t make sense with the behavior of the character. Mark Hamill said it himself, and a good director should’ve listened. As for Snoke getting killed and the matter of Rey’s parents, sure it was a wasted opportunity and no, it wasn’t mind-blowing. I wasn’t one of those people that started to theorize, I just wanted a solid movie. Also, to all those defenders out there that are claiming that this movie was feminist and it was about women power, you’re all wrong. Let me break it down for you, Leia, Holdo, and Rose were all written in such a forced matter that you can feel their propaganda behind their actions. Yes, its good to be feminist, but do it with respect, make it part of an engaging story. For example Rey, during the Force Awakens, she was introduced as an independent strong young woman, who happens to fall into this larger than life adventure. But in the Last Jedi she was written off as the girl from Twilight, suddenly she has to help the boy, and suddenly she finds him attractive because of his nipples. I’m sorry but this is the opposite direction of feminism.

The Last Jedi is the mutant child of Empire and Return of the Jedi. Nothing in this movie works, even at its very last few minutes when I said to myself “if they pull off a great battle between Kylo and Luke I may forgive everything that happened before”. But that was once again a let down, Luke pulls off some Matrix moves and its revealed that he is actually not there but still stuck on the island from Lost, then he looks at the two suns on the horizon, much like in A New Hope and then he vanishes, I guess becoming one with the Force. The scene felt rushed and out of place; I wonder if Mark Hamill even knew that it was going to go down this way. But fuck it, that’s it for me. The last Star Wars movie I watched was Revenge of the Sith. For all the shit the prequels get, I still enjoy watching them, sure they’re flawed, but never to the degree of this garbage. If you had asked me back in November I would have said The Force Awakens is the last Star Wars movie I watched. But The Last Jedi is so bad that it ruined the movie that came before it.

#Star Wars #The Last Jedi #Movie #Review

[chickenstuffedwithmozzarella]

Yaaay!! Thank you Soraya's inbox, sorry i blamed you on eating the last ask😂😘. You did great. Nono, he wasnt a torero, he looked like a prince. (Which is not better bcs i dont like any of those  figures but... whatever). Ooh, talking about suits, did you see the ranking hsfashionarchive did of the suits he wore this tour? Bcn was winning, pink suit was second and Mdd was third!! (1)

[I hope this works 😜🙏🏻, bc this was TOO long, jajajaa.]

Ohhh. Your mom is the best. So supportive! Petition to give her that award. She is clearly the winner. (1D clinex? capitalism in its pure state 😂. Did they really made those? Glad i didnt find it on time bcs i would have definitely brought them as a joke to my sister or something). You are already playing Niall’s songs to her? Did she like them? Does she have anything similar to “pikachu get away” she had for SOTT?. (2)

JAJAJAJJA. Netflix always does that to me too. Dont know why. I started watching Black mirror backwards bcs of that. Did you understand anything of chapter 7 os ST? (Did you finish the show??). Yep. The 8th season is the last one, and i dont know hoe to feel about it. Dissapointed by the shows? As in with the ending?? Or how? (3)

You sound like a devoted cat lady, yes. Ooow, i have little cousins too, though they are reaching the age of “too cool to be seen with you, old girl” Of course they make me laugh. Honey is a menace and i appreciate it. JAJAJAJAJAJAJA. He ate the chorizo?? Honeeey!! 😂😂😂 that made me laugh at loud int the train and now my neighbour is looking at me weirdly. I see, you’ll never get bored with him. (4)

When i was younger and + close minded, i didnt like tattos. Considere also that the ones I had saw in real life were the tribal ones, so there’s tgat. But then i grew up and started liking them (you can partially blame larry for that). Nobody in my family (cousins and so) has one, and thats kind of a encouragement, I’d love to piss them, but my dad has threaten me to disinherit me (we dont heven have that, lol) and i dont have any tatto on mind, so i wont do it… maybe in the future, yes. (5)

I MISS LOUIS TOO! I hope he is fine. Resting and so. Im sure that creating the album that will destroy us all takes a lot of effort. (Seriously, where is heeeee?). Heeey!! I wont get bored. Or mad! I have such a great time talking to you. If i dont talk more its bcs of the character limit and bcs im always worried about pressuring or imposing. Dont be dumb. If i dont answer its bcs im busy with finals and so. Nothing more. Promise. (6)

THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING. i know i know. It makes sense and its a smart move, but… i cant stand raeggeton/latino, its not for me. Sad. I havent lost hope though. Maybe ill change my mind later Yeah, i have the same problem with my friends, they only listen to trap and raeggeton and i die everytime. We mostly agree to put something neutral like pop or the radio. (Disney songs never get old😂). (7)

Ay. I just saw that i wrote “heven” instead of “even” and now i want to delete myself. I was walking while writing the asks and i didnt proofread it. I feel so dumb. Anyway, sorry for sending so many asks (today i made a record xd) and, as always, good night!!————————————————————————-Hi!!!! Yes! I saw the ranking. But it isn’t exactly a ranking. It’s more to like chose wants your favorite suit. I did it and guess what? My first choice in the Madrid one, jajajaa. Second the kilt. And third the jumpsuit. Very accurate.

Oh, you’re telling me! My family bought me a bunch of 1D merch (unofficial all): the clinex, a hair brush, a bracelet, 2 books!, one perfume (this I love it, it smells so good), a make up box… I can’t even remember everything. Ah! A birthday card too!! Where they talk when you open it. I always use to wish happy birthday to people (the audio) 🤣🤣🤣🤣. I had to tell them to please stop wasting money on those things. I don’t even know where I have it. And if a can ask, I’d rather they give me the money so I can go to their concerts,jajajaja.EDIT: I can’t believe I forgot the poster!! I have it beside my head right now,jajaja, and I only realized it was there when I looked at the boys to ask for inspiration,😅😅)

Oh, my mom loves Niall’s album too. But I don’t think she “knows” any of the lyrics,jajaja. Though, she knows the hmmmm in This Town. But that’s all. She and my sister, both separately were like: “oh! who’s him??” When they heard Fire Away. And I was like: “ehhhhh, it’s Niall’s album, so guess who’s it?? What, you like it? See, Harry’s not the only one who can sing…” jajajajja. It’s because of comments like this, that they think I don’t like Harry. And I get so offended when they hint at it! Like, of course I like Harry. But I like all of them too!! God!! I love Niall’s album so much (I’m hearing it right now, bc I couldn’t remember what song was the one they liked it so much, and now I can’t stop 😅). Harry’s and Niall’s albums have been lining in my car since they were released. I had Harry’s playing in a loop till I got Niall’s one and I interchanged them. Then Harry’s came back a month or so before his concert. And now it’s time for Niall’s again. (You can’t imagine how hard it’s being writing this with honey laying on my arm!! Jajaja, I can’t barely move my fingers😅).

AND WHAT DID YOU DO WHEN YOU REALIZED YOU WERE WATCHING BLACK MIRROS BACKWARDS??? I’ve watched canter 1 and 2 of ST afterwards, but I hadn’t gotten to watch the whole thing yet. I can’t stand to be looking at a screen for 50minutes without doing anything. And don’t get me wrong, lol, I can be on tumblr for hours, jajaja, but a have to move my hand, and I can go from a blog to another… y'know, jajajajaja. And when I watched chapter 7 of ST i was like, okay… now they have to investigate what happened… or a guessed they would be doing flashbacks… jajajajajaja. Then I realized my mistake and thought I was stupid, 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣“I see you from a different point of view🎶🎶” ( sorry, that’s me singing,jajajaja, Seeing Blind. I LOVE that song)And shows have disappointed me in the sense that they turn out to have an awful ending (seriously, I know you do it for the audience, but end a show how it deserves it, don’t turn it into shit just for a handful of money); or bc they just end it bc they don’t have enough audience. It’s always a matter of audience,jajaja.if they have a lot, they want to explode it. And if they don’t have enough they finish it ASAP. 😒

Honey is a menace, yeh, I couldn’t love him more,jajajaja. He can’t see me petting Liam, he gets jealous and comes to me and headbutt my hand so I pet him too. And Liam is so patient with him. They’re totally like liam and Louis, jajja. Hey! did I tell you the story about when I got Liam? no!! Well, someone gave my dad 4 kitties (they were sooooo small). So, guess their names (it was post March 25, 2015…) yes!! They were named (by me) Louis, Niall, Harry and Liam, jajajajajja. But Harry died a couple of days later, because he was really really young. He couldn’t survive without his mom ☹️. And the other three, my dad took them to a place we have were he has a little garden (?) with vegetables and chickens and proper farm-y, jejeje. I wasn’t too (any) into cats back then, so… Then he brought home one of them, to have our home free of mice. AND IT WAS LIAM!! And I adopted him. I took care of him. We started loving each other. And he became useless with mice, jajaja. He’s totally domesticated now 😝. And that’s his story. The rest? Louis became a big alpha male at their new home. But s car ran him over last summer, and he died 😔. And Niall is a female, jajajajaa. And I hate her. Because she hasn’t been able to keep her kitties alive once!! (She’s pregame again, and we’re praying this time she knows who to be a mom🙏🏻) Ah!! And Honey had siblings the other day!! The guy who gave it to my dad is my brother’s friend and he show him a pic. There are two white cats!! I WANT THEM!!! But they don’t let me have anymore cats! Jajajajaja.

Hey, we might have in common the reason why we started liking tats, jajajjajaa. And, well, to piss off the family is as good a reason as any other,jajajaja. And why are dads like that?? When my sister and I got our lips pierced he went to pick up at the train station and as soon as he saw us he turned around and walked to the car without saying a word,jajajajja. I HAD TOLMY PARENTS WE WOULD BE DOING IT!! I asked my mom:hey mom, if a get a 10 in maths, can I get a piercing?? And she say okay. So I got a 10 (I might cheated or not on this, bc I already knew I had a 10, but wel…), and I got a piercing.my sister only got it, bc I was 16, she had to go with me as an adult, and giving she was already there, she got one too,jajajaja. (My granny almost kill us 😅)

Oh, louis has a BIG responsibility on his hands. He will be killing a lot of people when he puts out his album. He has to chose the proper songs to do it. It will be considered a massive destruction weapon, so he better be careful. But god, for real, when will Louis and Liam release their albums. At this pace, Harry and Niall will be releasing their second one before LiLo has finished their respective tours. And when they finish, Narry will have release their second one, and will be promoting them. So Lilo will start working in their seconds one. And… and… AND ONE DIRECTION WON’T COME BACK EVER BECAUSE THEY CAN FIX A DATE WHERE ALL OF THE BOYS HAVE NOTHING TO DO, AND WHAT WILL I DO??? 😭😭😭😭😭 (sorry, I panicked a bit there,oops).

Uggggg, I can’t stand raeggeton either. I can’t stand the music, argggg. Or the culture of it (the how it treats women, and glorifies sex). I can’t I can’t.and you can’t go out without hearing it. My friends and I went on road trip once. And it was my friend’s car. And she only listens to raeggeton. And after 10, 15, 40? minutes I had to ask her “will this song ever end???” And she told me it was already a different one. And I swear I almost jump out of the car,jajajajaja. We were crossing a bridge, and I wanted to jump out of the car!!!!! I couldn’t listen to that any more!!!!!  Ejkbvwirbfeuirnfrvoieefvnv The she caved and we switched to movie’s soundtracks,jajajaja.

Ha! Don’t worry about sending a lot of ask, I learn something, you’ll see,jajajajaa.Also, I forgot to ask early. Is your sister a 1d fan too, then? She goes to concerts and knows the song… how lucky! you have someone to talk about all the gossip!! (And they know what you’re talking about…) or is she a “casual” fan, and doesn’t get into fandom drama? She just likes the music and doesn’t care about their lives?are you both into drama?? God, I don’t discuss drama very much online, but if had someone face to face to talk about it… I would be the happiest person in the world,jajajajaa (what an exaggeration 🙊).

I think this is all. I LOVE ORPUR CONVERSATIONS!! Jajajaja( I hope I did it correctly and all this is under read more, jajaja)Byeeeeee!!!! 😚😚😚😚

#anon #iuubefvkjnevjknefv #it's the first time I put read more #I learnt how to do it yesterday (I had too google it #lol)