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sunnys567 · 1 year

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Friends in Strange Places, Ch 1

Summary: AU where Vlad turns out to be friendly instead of evil.

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All was quiet in Amity Park that night. That is, until the silence was broken by a 14 year old on an electric scooter.

"Finally!" he said, checking his watch. "It's only 9:57. I'm about to make it home one night without ghosts getting in the way of my curfew!"

Not 2 seconds after he said that, a familiar chill ran up his body and out his mouth in a puff of mist. Filled with a sudden mixture of dread and annoyance, Danny looked up to see three green birds whizz overhead.

"Ugghhhh, why??" he groaned as he ducked behind a car and transformed. It didn't take long for him to catch up with the birds.

They turned out to be three ghost vultures, who were all wearing red fezzes.

"Hey, any chance you guys lost?" he asked.

One of the birds turned it's head to look at the leader.

"Ask him for directions." It said in a Turkish accent. Danny hadn't expected an actual answer, he was just being snarky.

"Ve don't need any directions!" The leader answered. He suddenly dove out of the sky. The other two birds followed him, Danny not far behind.

The birds phased through the roof of a monorail train. When Danny entered the train he saw the birds perched on the seats, having a heated debate. It was a good thing this car was empty.

"I know vere I'm going!" the leader snapped, his head thrown up in indignance.

"Ve've been flying avound in circle for an hour. Ve could've been halfvay to Florida by now. Ask him!" The vulture pointed his wing at Danny.

"Ask me what?" Danny asked.

The birds phased through the roof and Danny followed them. Why couldn't they just stay still?

The leader ghost sighed in defeat.

"Ve are on a surveillance mission. Could you help us find dis guy?" He pulled a ripped corner of a photo out of his neck fluff and handed it to Danny. The person in the photo had much longer hair, but besides that he looked just like-

"Dad?" Danny exclaimed.

"See, I told you he'd know!" The bird with the glassed smirked.

The bird's smile was quickly wiped from his face as Danny threw and ecto blast at him. He managed to dodge and flew off, the other two trailing behind him. Danny gave chase.

The vultures manage to elude Danny for a bit, until they came to the clock tower. They tried to circle around it to lose Danny, but he saw what they were doing and circled the other way without them noticing. They squawked in surprise when they saw him, but before they could do anything, Danny managed to grab them all by the ankles. He swung them around his head like a hammer thrower and tossed them as far as he could into the sky. The birds were dazed, but they managed to fly off as fast as their wings could take them.

"And how about you do everyone a favour and stay lost!" Danny called after them. He'd forgotten the thermos at home, so scaring them away would have to do. They seemed pretty harmless anyway.

Danny pulled the photo out.

"I wonder what those guys wanted with Dad..."

His musings were interrupted by the chime of a bell. He looked over at the clock tower and saw it was...10:15! Oh no! He was late! Again! His parents were not going to be happy.

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Sure enough, they were not happy. They were waiting for him at the door with unimpressed faces. They brought him to the living room to have 'a talk'. Well, his mom talked, his dad was working on some green boiler-looking machine whose function Danny was too afraid to ask.

"Danny," she said "this is becoming a problem. You're constantly late,"

"You're shirking from your chores," his father popped his head out from behind the machine to say.

"You're grades are slipping," his mother added.

"You're shirking from your chores,"

"You already said chores." Danny raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but when you don't do them, I get stuck with them."

"The point is," his mother interjected "this behaviour is unacceptable and has to stop."

"Look, I'm under a lot of pressure." Danny knew that was a lame excuse, but he didn't have a better one prepared, and he certainly wasn't going to tell them the truth. "You guys have no idea what it's like to be a kid these days."

"Oh come on Danny, that's the oldest excuse in the book." His mom was rolling her eyes, so she didn't notice Danny's arm sinking through the arm of the couch. He quickly pulled it out and was relieved to see that Jazz was occupied with a book, so no one noticed. "There's nothing you're going through that you're father and didn't go through as well." "Oh yeah, I beg to differ." Danny muttered rubbing his arm.

"The reason Danny thinks you can't relate to him," Jazz closed her book "is because you never talk about your childhood."

"Jazz." Danny knew this couldn't go anywhere good.

"Did you ever tell him about where you grew up, your first date,"

Danny watched in horror as a thoughtful look crossed both his parents faces.

"Jazz!"

"Where you went to college?"

"You know, that's a great idea Jazzy-pants." Jack said.

"It is?" Jazz asked.

"What is?" Maddie raised an eyebrow.

"This is!" Jack pulled a gold-trimmed flyer out of his pocket. "Our old college bud Vlad is holding a reunion in Wisconsin! We can all go down together!"

"Wisconsin?" Jazz echoed, horrified.

"All together?" Danny horror equal to, if not greater, than Jazz's.

Jack pulled Maddie close to him. The kids could tell from her face that she also thought this was a great idea.

"Yup," Jack chirped, oblivious to their tone "Just the four of us in an RV for hours. And, while we're driving, your mother and I can talk about our college days, and I can blather on about ghosts!"

As if on cue, the boiler-thing he'd been working on sputtered to life and began lurching horribly. Green goo shot out of one of the pipes and landed on Jazz's face. She did not look happy.

"Awesome! It works!" Jack cried, seeming unaware of Jazz's predicament. "I cant wait to blather on about that too!"

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They managed to set off the next morning with only one semi-major incident (Jazz may or may not have gotten covered in ecto-goo again, and it may or may not have been Danny's fault).

Wisconsin was pretty far away, though, so they'd had to park somewhere to sleep for the night. The kids weren't exactly stoked about sleeping in the RV.

"It's the Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle." Jack corrected them.

"And more importantly, hotels are a rip-off." Maddie said. "Why pay 200 dollars to sleep somewhere when an air-mattress for four only costs 80?"

"Aren't you guys loaded?" Danny asked.

"It's the principle of the thing, Danny." His mom replied.

"Alrighty, rest up everyone." Jack said as Jazz emerged from the bathroom. "I want you all bright eyed and bushy-tailed when we meet Masters tomorrow."

"Wait a minute," Jazz froze mid-step "Masters? As in, Vlad Masters? As in, Time magazine's billionaire of the year?"

"Yup, that's the one."

"You mean, you were friends with a billionaire in college?" Danny asked, suddenly getting Jazz's shock.

Jack seemed unaware of the looks of stupor on his kid's faces and continued speaking.

"Well, back then he wasn't 'billionaire Vlad Masters'." Jack said. "Back then he was just good old 'Vladdy'. Yup, we were pretty popular guys back then."

Jazz and Danny finally broke out of their shock to give each other looks of doubt.

"Back then, your mother, Vladdy, and I were an unstoppable team. We were the only ones brave enough to dive into the budding field of ecto research."

Danny resisted the urge to crack a joke. Jazz seemed like she was doing the same.

"Yes indeed, we even had our own research laboratory to build and test our inventions in!"

"Well, it was more of an abandoned classroom that no one stopped us from using." Maddie said as she pulled some pillows and blankets out of a compartment Danny hadn't even know existed until now "but, still, it was ours." She hugged the pillow she was holding with a far-away look on her face.

"Yup, we had a good thing going." Jack beamed. "That is, until the fat fingers of fate jammed themselves into Vladdy's eyes."

Maddie's dreamy expression turned somber. Jack started to tell the story:

"We'd finally finished the construction of our very first ghost portal."

Danny's eyes widened when he heard this. Jazz gave him a concerned look. She didn't like how easily her parents seemed to forget about his accident.

"Well, it was really more of a proto-portal. It was a lot smaller than the one we have back at home. We didn't know nearly as much as we know today about ecto-technology, especially not something as complicated as a portal. I also may have gotten a bit over-excited and rushed some of the calculations. The thing went haywire when I turned it on. Vlad was standing too close and took a blast of impure ecto-energy directly into his face. It resulted in a horrible case of ecto-acne."

"It devastated him." Maddie said. No one noticed that she had made up the air mattress while Jack was talking. "Vlad wouldn't allow any visitors in the hospital. Including us." She looked absolutely crestfallen when she said that. "The week after he dropped out without a word to anyone. We haven't spoken since."

"But the good news is, after all these years, I think he's finally forgiven me. Goodnight kids!"

On that note, Jack flicked a switch and the RV lights shut off.

Danny wasn't sure why, but he couldn't shake an uneasy feeling as he drifted off to sleep.

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When Danny first saw Vlad's mansion, he thought it was a castle. The building was constructed entirely out of grey bricks. Green and gold banners hung from four turrets as well as above the entrance. Actually, Danny wasn't completely sure it wasn't a castle.

As they all climbed out of the RV, the wooden double doors swung open and out stepped Vlad Masters. He was wearing a suit and had long silvery hair that was swept back into a ponytail. Danny was surprised by his hair colour. Vlad was the same age as his parent, but neither of them had even started to go grey. He wondered if it had anything to do with the portal incident. Not that he was going to ask.

"Ah, the Fenton family." Vlad smiled as they reached the top of the stairs. "Jack, Maddie. It's been too long." He looked down at Jazz and Danny. "And these must be Jasmine and Daniel. It's nice to finally meet you two. Come in, come in." He turned around and gestured them to follow.

An irritated look flashed across Jazz's face. For some reason, she didn't like being called by her full name. Danny didn't understand why. He didn't mind being called by his.

The entryway was also adorned with green and gold. A red carpet that led to the stairs. Pictures of football players lined the walls. The pictures simultaneously felt tacky and decadent. There was also a football resting on a pedestal near the end of the hall with a signature Danny couldn't make out.

"What's with the green and gold?" Jazz asked. "You're a billionaire, surely you can afford an interior designer?"

Danny hadn't realized the name thing ticked her off that much. Maybe the trip had made her irritable. Still, he felt Jazz was being pretty harsh to their host.

"Jazz, hello? Notice the football stuff? He's a Packers fanatic."

"Fanatic is such a...strong word, Daniel. But, yes." Vlad stopped by the signed ball.

"Oh yes," Maddie said "I remember, back in the day, you and Jack were always going on about football. Vlad actually played quarterback on the college team, kids."

Danny shuddered internally at the word 'quarterback'. Vlad seemed a lot nicer than Dash, but still.

"Yes, but that was a long time ago Maddie." Vlad said "I'm afraid my quarterbacking days are long over."

"Aw, come on V-man. Don't be like that." Jack grabbed the football off the pedestal. "I'm sure you've still got some old moves left in ya!"

"Don't touch that!" Vlad snapped, snatching the ball out of Jack's hand with surprising speed. His warm welcoming aura suddenly turned hostile.

Everyone stared at Vlad for a few seconds, not really sure what to do. Vlad's expression melted from rage to a dignified shame. He cleared his throat and straightened his posture.

"My apologies," he said setting the football back on its stand "I know that reaction was...inappropriate. The truth is I was forced to stop playing because of the accident." A look of guilt flashed over Maddie's face "I didn't realize it until now, but I think I was subconsciously viewing this football as a sort of..." Vlad spun his hand in the air, as if trying to summon the correct word "...consolation prize. It has always been my favourite piece of Packer's paraphernalia. It's signed by Ray Nitschke himself." The warm grin made it's way back to Vlad's face as he stared at the ball.

"It is also very expensive, and I'd rather it not be damaged." He added quickly, snapping his gaze back to his guests.

"That was impressive." Jazz said "You must be seeing a really good therapist."

"Jazz..." Maddie scolded.

"Quite alright, Maddie." Vlad waved his hand "It's been a while, but yes, I've had access to some of the best psychological minds in the field. The accident in college was quite the upset on my life, but it also gave me the opportunity to work on myself. In a way, that accident was responsible for making me the person I am today."

Danny wasn't sure why, but he felt creeped out by that last sentence. It kind of felt like Vlad was making a private joke to himself. Sort of like he was hiding something.

"Anyway," Vlad checked his watch "I'm afraid I can't stay for dinner, but I'll show you you're rooms before I'm off."

"Aw, you're leaving already, Vladdy?" Jack pouted. "But we've barely even had any time to catch up."

"Time is money, I'm afraid, Jack. Don't worry, we'll have plenty of time to catch up tomorrow."

Jack didn't look cheered up at all. Vlad came over and put a hand on his back.

"You know Jack, this house is very old. So old in fact that there's rumours that the ghost of the Wisconsin Dairy King himself may haunt these very halls." Vlad tilted his head upwards.

At the top of the stairs there was a rather large portrait of a stout jovial-looking king whose scepter was shaped like an ice cream cone. Jack's face was instantly lit up with glee, and he was suddenly gone.

"Thought that'd do the trick." Vlad grinned.

"Thanks Vlad," Maddie said "That really cheered him up. It'll be nice to talk properly at the reunion tomorrow." Maddie's voice was level, but it was hard to miss the manic look in her eyes.

"No need to be polite, Maddie. If I know you, I'm sure you're just as anxious to investigate this potential paranormal activity as Jack."

"Don't be ridiculous." Maddie cracked each of her knuckles individually as she spoke. "I, er, should at least see where are rooms are before I run off."

"Ah, yes. Right this way then. I'll make the tour quick."

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Danny was glad to finally be getting some sleep. His room was decorated in green and gold like the rest of the castle (Mansion? Danny wasn't really sure how to classify this place). His room had a purple double bed with drapes. There was a large glass door on one wall that led to a balcony. It was much more glamourous than sharing an inflatable mattress with your family.

Just as Danny began to drift off, he felt his ghost sense go off.

"Oh great," he said to no one "We go all the way out to Wisconsin and you guys still find a way to bug me." Danny focused and the familiar rings came (around the whole bed for some reason) and he was out of bed and flying through the wall in no time.

The mansion was big, but Danny's ghost sense gave him a general sense of where to look. It wasn't long before he found what he was looking for; three ectoplasmic-green ghost...vultures? They were turned away from Danny, various machine parts clutched in their talons.

"You guys again?" Danny exclaimed. The vultures turned around, startled. "Are you following me or something?"

"Aie! It's that ghost kid!" One of the vultures shrieked.

Danny charged up an ecto blast, but he was too slow. The vultures all turned intangible and flew off in different directions.

"Hey," Danny shouted "I want answers!"

"As do I." Came a voice from behind him. Danny spun around.

Floating a few feet away from him was a humanoid ghost. His skin was blue, his eyes were red, and he wore mostly white including a full-body cape. His pitch-black hair was styled straight-up, giving it the appearance of devil horns.

Danny had to admit, he looked pretty impressive, floating there with his arms crossed, cape flowing out behind him. The glare he shot Danny from his glowing red eyes was actually quite scary.

Not that all ghosts weren't kind of scary...

"I was aiming for the birds, but you'll do."

Danny charged at the ghost, fist-first. To his surprise, the ghost caught Danny's fist and redirected him, causing him to crash into a wall.

"You're a lot more competent than the other ghosts I've fought, I'll give you that." Danny said as he got up. He made another attempt at the ghost, charging straight for him. "But I'm done playing around."

Before Danny could hit him, the ghost caught him again, this time by the neck.

"As am I." The ghost said as he threw Danny to the ground. "Danny Phantom, is it?"

"You...know me?" Danny quickly recovered, floating back up to the ghost's level.

"Of course!" The ghost flew backwards, phasing through the wall behind him. Intrigued, Danny turned intangible and followed him. The room they ended up in was a giant library. There were so many bookshelves that it was more of a maze.

"Every ghost in the ghost zone has heard of you. You're that ghost child who's been defending the humans in Amity Park ever since that portal opened. Imagine my surprise to find you here, harassing my vultures."

"Hey, they're the ones that started it!"

"Is that so?" the ghost raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, and I intend to end it!" Danny said shooting an ecto beam.

The ghost raised his hand and Danny's beam bounced off of a pink square that appeared in front of his hand. Danny tried firing more beams, but the ghost simply moved his hand around, along with the pink square, deflecting all of Danny's blasts.

"Ectoplasmic energy blasts." the ghost fake-yawned. "So, year one?" he closed his fist and the square disappeared. "Tell me child, can you do...THIS???"

Suddenly, another ghost, identical to the one Danny was fighting, popped up beside him. Startled, Danny began to back away, but two more clones popped into existence behind him.

"N-no, I can't." Danny replied, gobsmacked. "How can you?"

"Years of practice." The four ghosts replied in unison. They all raised their right arm and fired their own pink ectoplasmic energy blast at Danny.

Danny crashed to the ground. He looked up to see the four ghosts fuse back into one, but it didn't matter. That last blow had knocked any chance of winning the fight out of him.

Danny felt his consciousness slipping away...

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"No, stop, get away!" Danny yelled as he untangled himself from the blankets, sitting bolt right up in bed.

"Everything all right in there, Daniel?" Vlad asked from the doorway.

"Huh, oh, uh, yes Mr. Masters. I must have just had a nightmare, sorry for disturbing you." Danny spoke quickly, still dazed.

"Quite alright my dear boy. You needn't worry, I was awake anyway. You're sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, I'm good now thanks. You can go back to bed."

"Yes, I think I shall." Vlad said, turning around "Sleep tight little badger. We've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

Once Vlad was gone, Danny breathed a sigh of relief. So the ghost attack had just been a dream. It didn't feel like a dream, Danny thought, as he laid back on his pillow. Then again why would those ghost Vultures come all the way from Amity Park to Wisconsin?

At least he didn't have to worry about facing that terrifying ghost again, he thought as he drifted off.

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The next day went off without a hitch (aka, ghost attacks).

At the party, Jack and Maddie introduced Jazz and Danny to their friend, Harriet Chin. Danny cringed in sympathy when his dad made a joke about her name ("Harry Chin. Get it?"). Jazz actually seemed interested in Harry, though. The two of them talked for a bit about Harry's career with the Milwaukee Journal. It seemed pretty high-level.

After a while Harry and Maddie found some other old friends to catch up with. Jazz went to Vlad's home theatre (man, he was rich) to watch a documentary on the Packers. Danny popped in to check it out, but saw that the film was in black and white. It was a close-call, but he decided the get-together might be slightly less boring.

While most of the guests were getting reconnected with long-time friends, Danny sat at a table by himself, his chin resting on his hand. His eyes glazing over as he watched the various 30-something-year-olds "shin-dig" around the auditorium (seriously, who has an auditorium and a theater in their house?). The novelty of a bunch of adults with blocks of cheese on their head had worn off about an hour ago.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, he felt a hand rest on his shoulder.

"Bored are we, Son?"

"Wha- uh, no sir, Mr. Masters." Danny startled "Also, it's just Danny. 'Son's' what my dad calls me."

"Hm, very well then." Vlad smiled. He was always smiling. Danny was sure if he found that comforting or creepy. "Anyway, I've got something upstairs that I've been wanting to show you. Interested?"

"Oh, um...sure." Anything was better than sitting around here.

"Excellent. Right this way." Vlad said, turning towards the auditorium exit.

Wait, Danny thought, was Vlad taking him up there alone?

"Uh, Mr. Masters," Danny said as he caught up with Vlad in the hall "Aren't you going to get my parents?"

"No, Daniel." Vlad said as they started to ascend a curling set of stairs "They're busy catching up with old friends, I don't want to disturb them."

"Oh. Should I get Jazz then? She's probably not doing much either."

"Oh no, don't bother her." Vlad said as they reached the top of the stairs "I have something that I'd very much like to show you, and only you."

"Why me?"

"Don't worry my dear boy, it will all make sense when we get there."

Something wasn't right about this.

Danny did not like how secretive Vlad was being. He probably would have run away by now, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. Besides, if things went south he had his ghost powers, something Vlad didn't know about.

They stopped in front of a statue of the Wisconsin Dairy King. Vlad put his eye to one of the buttons on his coat. A red beam shot out and scanned it.

"Personal Recognized: Vlad Masters" A voice said, making Danny jump.

"Sorry about all this security, little badger. " Vlad said, as the wall in front of them slid to the side, revealing an enormous safe-like door "I've got some...valuable things in there. Things I really wouldn't want others to find."

"Well now I'm definitley interested in what you want to show me." Danny muttered as Vlad punched in a code on a keypad.

The door slid open. Vlad walked inside and Danny followed, cautiously eyeing his surroundings. There wasn't much. Unlike the flamboyant decadence of the rest of the mansion, this room, although large, was empty besides for another keypad on the back wall. The floor was white and the walls were made of metal. It kind of reminded Danny of something, but he wasn't sure what.

The door slammed shut behind him. Danny felt his eyes go green, as they sometimes did when he was startled. He quickly blinked them back to blue. He hoped Vald hadn't seen.

"Now then," oh good, he hadn't. "Now that we're alone, I wanted to ask you a few questions."

"Okaaaay..." Danny raised his eyebrow, what could Vlad possibly want to ask him of all people?

"Your parents did tell you about my little...accident back in college, didn't they?"

"Yeah, my dad says you haven't spoken since that day." Danny responded.

"Indeed," Vlad sighed "Jack and Maddie are dear friends, but it was hard to face them after what happened."

"So, you're still mad at them?"

Vlad laughed. Danny hadn't been expecting that reaction.

"Mad? Daniel I was never mad at them. I just called them 'dear friends' didn't I? What happened was an accident."

"You seemed pretty mad at my dad earlier."

"Sure, your father has always had a habit of getting on my and, frankly, everyone else's nerves." A far away look washed over Vlad's eyes. "But he made up for that with his sheer joyful enthusiasm. He may come off as an unaware oaf, but he really does have an incredible knack for ecto-technology. It could be hard, but it really was a delight to work beside him and Maddie."

Vlad sighed.

"Ah, Maddie, what a brilliant mind. You know, she could have chosen to study anything. Become a doctor in any field of her choosing. In the end she chose to pursue what mattered to her, even though the rest of the world called her work nonsense. That's truly an admiral trait, being true to oneself in spite of other's expectations. I don't know where she found the patience to put up with your father and me, though. I imagine she's an incredible mother."

"Um, yeah, I guess she is." Danny wasn't really sure how to respond.

"Anyway, enough reminiscing" Vlad said, returning to the present. "The past is in the past."

"Isn't reminiscing the whole point of this reunion?" Danny asked.

Vlad laughed again.

"Oh, Daniel. You're as clever as your mother, you know that? Both you and Jasmine." Vlad shook his head "Ah, look how easily I get distracted. This is what happens when you spend too much time alone. Anyway, I was wondering if they ever took up trying to rebuild that old portal."

"Um, yeah." As Danny spoke, Vlad turned around and started typing on the keypad on the back wall. "They actually got one working in our lab about two months ago." Vlad paused his typing, but didn't say anything.

Danny felt weird. It was odd to be talking about ghost stuff with someone who wasn't an immediate friend or family member. Usually that would result in him getting punched.

"Well good for them." Vlad's tone shocked Danny out of his stupor. There was almost something...forced about it. Maybe Vlad wasn't as over the accident as he said he was.

Before Danny could decide whether to confront Vlad about it, he pushed a green button on the keypad and the wall in front of him split into two and began to slide open, revealing a swirling pink, fully functional-

"Ghost portal?" Danny gasped.

"Yes, and that's not all." As Vlad spoke, tables began to emerge from hidden panels in the floor, and sections of the wall spun around revealing shelves. The tables and shelves were all filled with familiar green test tubes, as well as strange devices that glowed pink like the portal. If the devices had been green, and the whole space a little shabbier, it would have looked identical to Danny's basement.

"Wait, you've been a ghost hunter all these years too?"

"Well, more of a ghost researcher than a hunter, but yes, basically."

Danny walked up to the portal and brushed his hand against the metal frame.

"That's incredible. Do my parents know about this? This place would blow they're minds!"

"No, Daniel. You are the only other human who's been in this lab."

Danny stopped rubbing the frame and turned to face Vlad.

"Mr. Masters, why would you tell me about this place and not my parents? I mean, no offence, but they're the ghost hunters, and I'm 14. I feel like you'd get more out of showing them than me."

"Daniel when your parents got their portal working," Vlad's face suddenly turned serious "were there any...complications?"

Danny's eyes widened.

"I-"

Before Danny could think of an answer, he felt a familiar chill escape his mouth.

"Look out!" he shouted as an ecto-blast shot through the portal. Danny barely had time to jump out of the way as it whizzed by where his head used to be and crashed into one of the tables, shattering the beakers.

"Butter Biscuits!" Vlad cursed, grabbing an ecto gun off of another table and pointing it at the portal. "What is it this time?

As if to answer his question, three giant green yeti-looking ghosts with massive tusks lumbered out of the portal, the largest one leading the other two. They walked on all fours, and Danny noticed razor-sharp claws on their front paws.

The ghosts stopped to look around, and Vlad seized the opportunity and shot at the one closest to him. It yelped as the beam hit it's face and the front one (who Danny assumed, based on his limited knowledge of biology, was the Alpha) roared and swung it's paw at Vlad, launching him into the air. He crashed into the wall next to Danny and slid to the floor.

"Mr. Masters!" Danny cried, rushing to his side. Before he could help him up, Vlad brushed him away and pushed himself up into a fighting position.

"Alright," he grimaced "Time to stop playing around."

Danny gasped as a black ring suddenly appeared around Vlad's waist, crackling the air around him. The ring split into two and went up and down Vlad's body, changing him into the ghost Danny had seen last night.

Danny stood there, awestruck, as Vlad flew into the air. The yeti he had shot at let out a challenging roar. Vlad raised his arm and shot a pink ecto beam directly into it's throat. It let out spluttering yelp and ran directly back into the portal. The other two turned intangible and went off in separate direction. The Alpha one phased through the floor while the smaller one went through the back wall.

"Finger sausages! They've split up!" Danny almost jumped out of his skin as Vlad turned to look at him. "Daniel, the leader is headed to the auditorium. You distract it while I take care of the other one. Make sure it doesn't hurt anyone." Vlad said as he turned intangible. He flew through the wall before Danny had time to respond.

"Okay, not only is Vlad a ghost hunter, he's also apparently a ghost-ghost." Danny put his hand on his forehead "How long has he been a ghost? How is this even possible?"

Danny shook his head to snap himself out of his stupor.

"I don't know how this is even possible, but I'll have to figure it out later. For now, I'M GOING GHOST!" Danny shouted as he transformed. The rings had barely left his body before he was diving through the floor.

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Meanwhile, at the party...

"...And then I..." Harry blathered on about a story she was working on to Jack who, not possessing an ounce of subtlety, let his chin sink down into his cup.

"Am I boring you, Jack?" Harry asked, irritated by his lack of tact.

"Quite frankly, yes." Jack replied.

Suddenly, a giant green beast dropped from the ceiling and landed in the middle of the dance floor, silencing the chatting adults. They all stared at it for a moment, before it let out a terrifying roar, sending everyone into a panic.

"Suffering spooks! I didn't expect to see one so far out here." Jack immediately jumped into action "Maddie, get the RV! I'll hold it off!" he cried, pulling a mini ecto gun out of his jumpsuit pocket.

"Come on!" Maddie cried, grabbing the awestruck Harry by the arm as she ran by. "That gun won't do much, we're gonna need the Fenton Family Assault Vehicle!"

Harry was bemused, but intrigued.

Just as they left the room, Danny poked his head through the floor (or, ceiling, he supposed). Party guests were running everywhere, and his dad was shooting the yeti with a small ecto gun. The gun didn't seem to have much effect, in fact it only seemed to make it angrier.

This was bad news. The ineffective ecto gun meant Danny would need to help his dad fight the ghost, but unfourtunately Jack was likely to start attacking Danny as well if he saw him.

Danny had an idea. Turning invisible, he flew towards his dad and dove into his body. Blinking a few times to adjust himself, he raised his hand. Ever since he'd discovered that he could overshadow people, Danny had wanted to see if he could still use his powers while inside someone.

Danny aimed for the yeti and was pleasantly surprised to see a green ecto beam shoot out of his now enormous gloved hand.

"Yes!" he shouted as it made contact with the yeti, who yelped. The good news was that he now had a way to fight the ghost without his dad trying to kill him. The bad news was that the yeti now had it's attention turned on Danny. He barely managed to jump out of the way as the yeti lunged at him, crashing into, and destroying, another table.

"Woah," Danny wobbled a bit as he landed. "Jumping around in Dad's body feels so different." His musings were interrupted by the yeti throwing a chair at him. He ducked just in time. "But I better get used to it quick."

Danny looked around and saw that everyone had fled the auditorium, leaving him alone with the yeti.

"Perfect," he said, smiling at the yeti. "That means I don't have to worry about anyone seeing my dad do THIS!"

He punctuated his sentence by launching another ecto blast at the yeti. The yeti yelped again as it was hit. Danny launched a few more, but the yeti had wised up and began darting around the room, making it way harder to hit. It moved surprisingly fast for such a large creature.

Danny was so busy trying to hit the yeti that he failed to notice how close it had managed to get to him. Just as he realized what was going on, the yeti pounced across the remaining distance, pinning Danny's wrists to the ground with it's paws.

"Uhhh, any chance you want to just, talk this out?" Danny asked nervously, the yeti opened it's massive maw (which was uncomfortably close to Danny's face) and gave out another incredibly loud roar. "That's not exactly what I meant." Danny remarked, silently sweating.

Suddenly a pink ecto beam hit the yeti in the face, knocking it off of Danny. Danny pushed himself off of the floor. It took a second since he wasn't used to how heavy this body was. When he got up he saw Vlad had arrived, glove still smoking from that last ecto blast.

Before either of them could say anything, a loud honk stole their attention. He turned and saw the Fenton RV smash through the wall that used to hold the auditorium entrance. His mom's head was poking out through the driver window and she looked furious.

"Get away from my husband you filthy ecto abomination!" she shouted as three mechanisms that all looked vaguely like guns popped out of the roof of the vehicle. There was a brief whirrr sound before the one in the middle shot out a green ecto beam that was much bigger that the ones Danny fired. It his the yeti square on and sent it flying across the room.

"Way to go Mo- uh, Maddie!" That was close. It was weird how easy it was to forget you were in someone else's body.

Maddie got out of the RV, a much bigger ecto-gun than the mini blaster Jack had been using in her hands.

"Jack, you drive the RV." She commanded running past him, her goggles blazing with determination. "I'm going to give this ghost a piece of my mind!"

Danny looked around the auditorium. Vlad was nowhere in sight. He turned his attention to the RV.

"Ok," he said to himself "I'm technically too young to drive, and Mom and Dad seem to have this handled, so I'm going to go find out where Vlad went."

With that, he invisibly flew out of his father. Danny hovered near the ceiling and watched the panicked Harry yell Jack out of his stupor. Jack shook his head and jumped into the RV, weapons blazing within seconds.

"Wow, I almost feel sorry for the yeti." Danny cringed. "I wonder if Vlad went back to his lab."

Danny phased through the ceiling and turned visible. Vlad was indeed there waiting for him, still in his ghost form. Danny would've been lying if he'd said he wasn't a bit intimidated.

"I assume Jack and Maddie have the situation under control down there?"

"Yeah, and all the guests are safe." Danny looked around. He felt a twinge of guilt at the sight of the smouldering tables. "Sorry about the damage to your lab." he said sheepishly.

"Why apologize? It's hardly your fault. And anyway this happens every other week. Comes with the 'ghost researcher' territory." Vlad grinned "Fourtunately, I am immensely wealthy."

Vlad stared at Danny for a minute. It made him a bit uncomfortable, but he wasn't really sure what to do. What do you do when you're a half-ghost, and you meet your parents estranged college friend who also turns out to be a half-ghost?

"So I suppose your parent's portal did this to you?" Vlad finally asked. Danny's eyes widened.

"I, uh, don't know what you mean..."

"You can give up the ghost Daniel, I know it's you." (:D)

Danny sighed. There was no escaping it.

"Yeah," he answered, rubbing the back of his neck "Sorry, I just, you're the first person- I mean, I've...never really told anyone before. They couldn't get it working at first. One day I went inside of it, I guess because I was curious. I was kind of running my hand along the wall and it...turned out that they had put the 'on' button on the inside."

Vlad paused for another moment.

"Yes, that does sounds like Jack and Maddie. Well, maybe more so Jack, but your mother has her moments." Vlad mused. "So you've been like this for about two months then, correct?"

Danny nodded.

"And, how did you, you know..."

"The proto-portal from college." Vlad raised an eyebrow playfully "Duh.

"So that means you've been a half-ghost for, what, twenty years?" Danny spun that information around in his brain. "Oh jeez, that's a long time! I can't believe that's even possible! I thought I'd be the only human with ghost powers ever! I never thought I could meet someone like me!"

"As did I." Vlad said "Of course I'd heard the rumours of a ghost-human hybrid in Amity Park. In fact, it was these very rumours that prompted me to hold this reunion. Thinking of Amity reminded me how long it's been since I'd seen Jack and Maddie, or anyone else from college, for that matter. Imagine my surprise when I see the fabled ghost-child, the only other member of my kind, floating through my very halls last night." Despite his regal composure, Vlad's tone was filled with excitement.

"Oh, uh, speaking of which," Danny said "sorry for attacking you last night."

"I believe it's the vultures you owe an apology to."

"The vultures?"

As if waiting to be mentioned, an angry ghost bird's head suddenly popped through the wall.

"Yea!" he screeched as two more heads popped out above and below him " 'Vere's our apology?"

"Hey!" Danny snapped "You're the one's who showed up looking to attack my family!"

"Ve did no such thing!" the lead vulture retorted, phasing his whole body into the room, his two friends following him.

"Ve vere only dere for invormation on da Venton's, ve never planned on attacking dem!"

"Well how was I supposed to know?" Danny shot back "Every single ghost I've ever met wants to either kill me or my friends."

"Well not all ghosts are evil, doncha' know?"

Danny turned around and saw a stout kingly-looking ghost floating a few feet away. He looked familiar...

"The Wisconsin Dairy King?" Danny said, remembering the painting in the entrance hall.

"Aye." the king answered jovially "I, fer instance, have been roaming these here halls fer centuries, not bothering a soul."

Danny blinked at him.

"What he's trying to say Daniel," Vlad cut in "is that, like humans, all ghosts have different motives and desires. You tend to only see the evil ones because they're the ones who go looking for trouble. The not-evil ones tend to mind their own business."

"And how can you be sure of that?" Danny asked.

"I've been dealing with ghosts for 20 years, Daniel. I've learned a thing or two along the way."

"Well, how do you know which ones are evil and which ones aren't?"

"Same as you do with humans."

Danny bit his lip pensively.

"It seems," Vlad said as a black ring formed around his waist, morphing him back into his human form "that you have a lot to learn about ghosts. Especially if you're going to continue in the business of keeping the malicious ones out of Amity Park. Even though I live quite far from you, I'd be willing to offer my support where I can, if you're interested."

Vlad finished his offer by holding a hand out. Danny shook it and morphed back to human as well.

"It's kinda nice, not being the only one." Danny smiled as he let go of Vlad's hand.

"Likewise, my boy." Vlad beamed back. "Now let's head back to the party. I'm sure your parents are looking for you."

"And you. My dad's probably already started crying about how 'the ghosts kidnapped his best friend'." Danny said as the lab door slid shut behind them.

"Awww," The Dairy King cooed. "T'wasn't that sweet".

"Ve still didn't get our apology." The lead vulture griped.

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

"...and even if I did believe you, which I don't, why on earth would a ghost be a yeti?"

"I don't know Jazzy-pants. Your mother and I may be leading ghost experts, but there's still a lot we don't know. It's too bad the spook ran off, though. I'm sure we could've learned a great deal if we'd been able to examine that behemoth more closely!"

"Sweetie, all the other guests saw the ghost, too. Surely you'd believe over fifty eye witnesses."

"Sure." Jazz rolled her eyes "Why wouldn't I believe a bunch of drunk people who ran screaming from the room before they could even get a good look? There's not even enough proof for your friend Harry to write a decent story, and she's a professional journalist!"

Danny watched his parents and Jazz argue from the bottom of the mansion stairs. He'd known this was coming and did not want to get involved.

"I assume they don't know?" a voice said from behind. Danny turned around and saw Vlad standing behind him.

"No."

"Do you plan on telling them? Jack and Maddie are very loving people, you know they'd accept you, no matter what."

"Are you going to tell them?"

Vlad paused.

"Touché. I stand by what I said, but I won't push it."

The pair watched the argument by the RV ("...crowds can be susceptible to suggestion! A group of scared teenagers once managed to convince an entire town they were attacked by a giant alien that turned out to be nothing more than an owl!").

"I must say, it's rather nice having someone else who knows." Vlad said after a minute. "Well, someone who isn't a ghost. It's a shame you couldn't stay longer."

"Yeah," Danny sighed "but you know how my parents are. Can't stay away from their research too long. They didn't even change out of their jumpsuits for this trip."

"That's the Jack and Maddie I know. I wouldn't change them if I could." Vlad smiled. "Still, I'm sure we'd have had lots to talk about."

"Maybe...maybe you could come and visit sometime?"

Vlad made a strange face. It only lasted a second before it shifted back into his usual smile, although it wasn't as bright as before.

"Much like you parents, I would be remiss to leave my work for too long. Amity is quite a way's off from Wisconsin."

"Oh." Danny couldn't really hide his disappointment. A pensive look crept onto Vlad's face.

"Perhaps..." he hesitated. "I can't guarantee it'll work, and it would take some time to figure out, but now that your family has a portal, it could work as a much quicker route between our locales."

"Wait, really? How?"

"Well, the Ghost Zone doesn't follow the same logic as the human world. This, theoretically, could allow for faster travel between the two portals. However the Ghost Zone is also rather...difficult to navigate. Quite dangerous and confusing."

Vlad noticed the excitement on Danny's face.

"Now don't go getting your hopes up quite yet, Daniel. I can't truly guarantee there even is a quicker route via the Zone and, even if there is, it will take time to find."

Danny still felt pretty pumped at the possibility. He noticed a strange look on Vlad's face. It was hard to identify. It was like he was thinking about something that worried him. Danny wanted to ask him what was wrong, but that felt kind of awkward. He figured Vlad might not want to confide in some 14-year old he'd just met.

That being said, they were just about to leave and Danny wanted this visit to end on a happy note.

"Hey, um," Danny rubbed the back of his neck nervously, not sure how Vlad would respond to this "How long did it take you before you stopped accidentally phasing though stuff?"

Vlad laughed loudly.

"Goodness, I'd forgotten all about that. Oh, that was awful. I lost count of all the things I'd dropped my first few months as a ghost. I remember once, when I thought I'd finally gotten my powers under control, a dear archeologist friends invited me over to see her research. She let me hold a genuine Ming Vase and it slipped right through my hands!"

Danny's eyes went wide.

"Did it break?"

"Absolutely shattered. The only positive note was that she was too stunned to notice my hands were translucent. We never spoke after that. I assume she was angry, but, truth be told, I was too embarrassed to ever check if she'd forgiven me."

Danny figured it would only be fair if he shared an embarrassing story of his own.

"A few weeks ago, I asked the most popular girl in school to the dance, and my pants went intangible fell off right in front of her. Well, her and the whole school." Danny chuckled hesitantly. It had been an incredibly humiliating experience, but enough time had passed that he could see the humour in it.

Vlad laughed hysterically when he finished telling his story.

"And that is why I locked myself in a castle for twenty years. I honestly don't know if I could have survived if I'd gotten my powers as a teenager."

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the most obnoxious car horn.

"C'mon Danno, time to hit the road!"

Danny sighed. He didn't want to leave, but he didn't really have much choice.

"I hope I get to see you again soon." he said to Vlad as he made his way to the RV.

"As do I, little badger." Vlad replied, following.

Unbeknownst to them, the three vultures had been perched on the banister, invisibly eavesdropping.

"I hope he does visit the kid soon. If you ask me, dat guy could really use some more human vriends." the raspy-voiced one said once they were out of ear shot.

"Yeah, I haven't seen Vlad dat happy in a vile." the one with the glasses added.

"That Plasmius is vun tough egg to crack fellas." The leader said. "but who knows? Maybe dat kid really can get trough to him."

Danny climbed into the RV as his parents said their goodbyes to Vlad.

"Well, Vladdy, it was good to see you after all these years." Jack reached his arm out the window and wrapped it affectionately, but tightly, around Vlad's neck. "It's like nothing's changed!"

"Yes, indeed." Vlad said, shoving himself out of Jack's grip.

"It's a shame we didn't have more time to catch up." Maddie sighed. "We'll have to get together again real soon, Vlad. Maybe you can come down to Amity Park next time."

"Yeah, V-man! You wouldn't believe the ghost activity down there!"

"Oh, I gave up the ghost research long ago." Vlad waved his hand. "But a visit with the Fenton family does sound enticing. Whenever I can find the time, of course. You don't become as rich as I am by sitting around all day, after all."

They did that thing that adults do where they talk about nothing for forever after they tell you it's time to leave. Eventually, Jack rolled up the window, and they were off. Danny waved at Vlad from the back window. Vlad waved back as the RV went around a corner.

Once Vlad had disappeared from sight, Danny sat back in his seat, beaming. Jazz raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't say anything, instead cracking open a book

Danny felt lighter than he had in months.

#danny phantom #dp #danny phantom fanfic #dp fanfic #fanfic #friends in strange places #fisp #danny fenton #vlad masters #good!vlad

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magicshopaholic · 2 years

Text

The Sixth (Jungkook x OC)

Summary: In the inadvertent battle of mutual attraction poorly concealed with sarcastic banter, the tables have turned and you find yourself frustrated in more ways than one.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

Genre: Banter, smut, fluff

Word count: 15 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: flirting, heavy making out, car sex, nipple play, fingering, mildly dangerous driving, oral sex, spanking, sex

A/N: This fic functions as a rogue third part to my Jungkook fic The Fifth (notice how I'm deliberately not saying epilogue?), but can also be read standalone. I have to say, it felt really good to write these two again :')

This is also part of my submission towards the Bangtan Bingo Spring Event by @bangtanwritingbingo, using my square "blanket thief".

Last but not the least, this is also a birthday present of sorts for @aroseforyoongi , one of the lovely admins of @thebtswritersclub. Happy birthday, Eva and I hope you enjoy this <3

Listen to: "electric love" by børns

jungkook masterlist | main masterlist

“How did it go?”

“Um…” You tap your ID card against the automated scanner and sigh as the doors open. “Not too bad, to be honest. I’m just glad it’s over.”

Jungkook makes a noise of agreement. “Did it help? That they moved the presentation from last week to today?”

“You know, you would think,” you agree as you near your car, using the usual force required to pry the drivers’ door open, “but it just stressed me out even more. I had everything prepared for Tuesday; all I did the last week and a half was fret about this even more.” You exhale heavily as you settle into your car and place your phone down on the seat next to you when it automatically connects to the car Bluetooth. “Whatever. It’s done now. Screw whatever happens next.”

“May I just say, what a lucky, lucky rookie group this is that’s got you as its marketing strategy planner.”

“And screw you, too, Jeon.”

He snickers at the other end. “I’m kidding. HYBE couldn’t have chosen anyone better to manage this group.”

“Christ. You know, flattery won’t get you all that far, kid,” you inform him, reversing out of the parking lot and hitting the open road.

“It got me this far,” he points out.

“That… wasn’t flattery,” you mutter, flashes of him looking all sweaty in those basketball shorts from two weekends ago instantly flitting through your mind. You clear your throat. “So, did you call me just to ask me how my presentation went?”

“Kind of. Why?” He suddenly sounds cautious. “Do you prefer texting?”

“Uh, I guess. Don’t you?” you ask, frowning. “You specifically told me that, like, a week ago. On text.”

There’s silence on the other end and it takes you a moment to realise you’ve caught him and if recent history is any indicator, his ears are turning red. “I’m holding a gym bag in one hand,” he says shortly after a few moments, “so my hands are full.”

“Of course.” You try to suppress a smile, not wanting to alarm the lady on the scooter next to you who’s sure to wonder why you’re grinning to yourself while stuck in traffic. “What’s up, Jungkook?” you ask, changing tacks. “How was your day?”

“Not bad. Been in the studio all day - Namjoon and Yoongi hyung have been working on this new rap song but they wanted me to -” He breaks off abruptly, as though suddenly remembering he isn’t supposed to reveal this to you. “Anyway, uh… I just got out. Need to film a - well, a thing.” He swears softly.

Just like that, another image pops up in your mind: Jungkook, in the same basketball shorts, his white shirt damp in certain areas, with his hands on his hips as he mouthed a swear word, looking annoyed as hell. It made his jawline look sharper than ever, you remember, an unexpected shiver running down your spine as you turn into the alley towards your building. It takes you a moment to realise Jungkook is saying something.

“... going to hate me, but… I have to cancel tonight.” He pauses, and the guilt in his silence is audible.

You try to swallow your disappointment. “Oh. That’s alright.”

“Really?” he asks in a small voice, reminding you once again of an animated rodent from a Pixar movie, possibly peeking out from behind a wall. “I cancelled last time, too."

"Actually, I cancelled last time," you remind him. "It was the day they moved my presentation for the second time. You cancelled the time before that," you add, your tone slightly teasing.

Jungkook sighs dramatically. "I really didn't think it would be this difficult to schedule a date," he laments. "A first date even."

"Third date, technically."

"Technically."

You bite your lip and sigh. You are disappointed, it’s true, but you can’t bring yourself to hold it against him at all. Your first official date months and months ago had been a disaster, and the next one two weeks ago had been accidental. It was only after the first time he cancelled that you realised he was actually putting pressure on himself to make sure this third date went well, the first one after you'd both more or less confessed your feelings to each other.

Realising you’re still on the line, you speak. "It's alright, Jungkook. Really." When he doesn’t respond, you prod him. "Come on, who better than a HYBE employee to know how important media commitments are?"

"Can we reschedule for Saturday?" he asks. “I have no other commitments and I’ll make sure it stays that way.”

“A man with a plan,” you remark, chuckling. “Saturday sounds good.”

“Alright.” There’s a sound of a door opening and closing. “I just reached the gym. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yes, you will.” You say goodbye and hang up, finally exiting your car and making your way up to your apartment. Dal, your roommate, is nowhere to be seen and his whereabouts remain a mystery until you see a post-it on your bedroom door.

Gone out. Be back late.

Shaking your head at this extremely informative note, you resign yourself to a quiet night in wherein you can finally sleep at a decent time. You order food and hop into the shower, taking your time under the warm water for as long as you can. After the week you’ve had, you order an extra garlic bread with dip without guilt and settle down in front of your television, trying not to think about the fact that you might’ve been on a date right now, one you’d found yourself looking forward to quite a bit.

By the time you’ve finished dinner, you’re halfway through a Black Mirror episode that’s just depressing you more and more by the second but you’re powerless to stop. When your phone pings during a particularly suspenseful scene, you jump. Looking at the phone screen, you roll your eyes.

JK [22:15]

Hey.

Me [22:15]

You scared the shit out of me.

JK [22:15]

What? How?

Me [22:16]

Never mind. What’s up?

JK [22:16]

Are you free?

You frown, your heart already racing. Biting your lip, you reply.

Me [22:16]

Depends on what for.

JK [22:17]

Something you’ll enjoy, I promise.

Me [22:17]

Vague. But I’m intrigued.

JK [22:17]

Cool. Come out to your balcony? :)

You frown, having a slight inkling as to what this might be, as you heave yourself off the sofa and go into your small second storey balcony. Looking down, your heart sinks surprisingly when you see nothing.

Me [22:18]

Okay.

Me [22:18]

… I’m here.

You see the blue tick appear but no response. You frown and crane your neck to look down the alley, seeing a black car a little way off that could be his Hyundai, but you can’t be sure since the logo isn’t visible. Your phone pings then and you immediately unlock it to see a message from him.

JK [22:19]

You are?

You frown. Then -

JK [22:20]

Shit, I’m at the wrong house.

You barely have enough time to react before you hear footsteps and you look up from your phone to see Jeon Jungkook jogging from the direction of the adjoining building, his eyes lighting up in relief when he catches sight of you.

“Smooth.” You smile anyway, leaning forward against the railing and trying not to reveal how your heart is zooming at the sight of him. “Why are you at my house, Jeon? Or, you know… whose ever house that was?”

Jungkook grins wider. “I got done with practice early,” he replies innocently. He’s dressed like he just left the gym: black joggers and a black t-shirt, hair slightly wavy. His tattoo sleeve snakes down his right arm where they’re folded across his chest.

You raise an eyebrow. “You just assumed I’d be free?”

He shrugs. “I thought I’d take a chance. Will you come downstairs?” he asks, his doe eyes huge and excited.

You feel your heart skip a beat. “Only because I’m bored,” you say finally before disappearing inside. Pulling on a thin hoodie over your t-shirt and shorts, you slip into a pair of flip flops and grab your phone and keys before heading downstairs, realising only too late that you didn’t even bother checking your reflection. Hurriedly, you let down your hair out of its scrunchie and try to smooth it down before exiting the building.

Seeing Jungkook this close makes you feel like a teenager, especially when he looks up at you from his phone and his face breaks into a smile. “You came!” he exclaims, dropping his phone back into his pocket.

You nod as you near him, your heart automatically starting to race. “I told you I would,” you remind him, hands in the pockets of your hoodie. There’s a moment where neither of you know what to do next; you aren’t sure what the protocol is with a guy you’ve hung out with a couple of times, constantly texted back and forth with, subtly confessed feelings of attraction to but with no further steps except a date looming in the distance that’s now been built up too much in both your heads.

Jungkook makes a motion with his hand before stopping and you realise he’s just as awkward as you are. Suddenly endeared, you take a step forward and hug him, sighing in relief when he immediately hugs you back. It’s a short, normal hug but it serves to remind you that you’ve actually missed him. He holds you to him by your waist for a couple more seconds, kissing your cheek when he pulls away.

“Thanks for coming,” he says, suddenly looking shy. The faint scent of his spicy cologne lingers and your toes curl automatically in your flip flops. He looks incredible; since the basketball game, you’ve only seen him in person once, at HYBE when he was with two other members of his band and entering the office building when you were exiting it. Your eyes had met for a fraction of a second but he’d smiled at you anyway, eyes wide and surprised, and after he’d disappeared inside you’d immediately texted him to fix his face, conveniently skipping how pleased you’d been.

“Is this one of those late night dates?” you ask him teasingly. “Like in the movies, where you’ve paid for a place to stay open just for us, because nothing can get in the way of our first date?”

Jungkook chuckles for a moment before the smile fades. “Yeah, that would’ve been cool,” he deadpans, looking down at his shoes.

You laugh. “I’m kidding. I’m glad to see you,” you tell him honestly, taking a step closer and tugging at the bottom of his t-shirt. “What are you doing here?”

He rubs the back of his neck, apparently unable to suppress a smile. “I was hoping for your help with something.”

You frown. “With what?”

In answer, Jungkook simply moves to the shotgun seat and opens the door, gesturing for you to climb in. You narrow your eyes.

“Okay, you’re being really suspicious.”

He chuckles. “You’ll enjoy it, too, I promise.” When you simply raise an eyebrow, his eyes widen slightly. Pleadingly. “Please? You can trust me.”

In the face of everything you’ve been taught as a girl living alone since the age of eighteen, you believe him, so after a moment’s hesitation, you enter the car. Jungkook shuts the door behind you and skips over the drivers’ seat, buckling himself in and grinning as he starts the car. “Do you want to pick the music?”

“I guess I should or I’ll be stuck listening to One Direction for… however long we’re on the road,” you reply, already connecting your phone to his stereo.

Jungkook chortles; his excitement at the fact that you’ve agreed to come with him is palpable. You’re probably better at hiding it, but you think you know how he feels. The night you’d agreed to go out with him, approximately ten days ago, feels like months ago. Since then you’ve been texting constantly, moving seamlessly from friendly banter to innocent flirting, especially now that it’s established that you’re wholly attracted to each other.

That’s where the problem lies, though. Ever since that night after you’d finally admitted it to yourself, it’s become harder and harder to stop thinking about him: how he’d felt when you’d sat behind him on his motorcycle, how he’d pulled you close to adjust the buckle of your helmet, how he’d looked at the basketball the next day with a fierce determination, eyebrows furrowed, jawline sharp…

Jungkook is tapping the side of your thigh - your bare thigh. “Lia, skip the ad,” he says, one hand on the steering wheel. You look down at your phone to see the option to skip the ad flashing and click on it. Immediately, the loud talking voice disappears and an old Seo Taiji song starts playing.

“Sorry, my Spotify subscription must have run out,” you mutter, checking your settings before deciding to leave it for later. You look up to see Jungkook bopping his head to the beats and when the song starts, he sings along under his breath. You bite your lip, tearing your eyes away from him before he catches you watching him. “Will you tell me where we’re going?”

“We’re almost there.” Jungkook takes a turn and you sit up, realising this place is familiar. Too familiar.

“Wait…” The darkness doesn’t allow you to see too well, but you think you know where you are. “Is this… Jungkook, why are we at -”

“Come out, I’ll explain,” he interrupts, stopping the car at the side of the empty street and hopping out. You follow suit, clambering out and hurrying to the back of the car where Jungkook is rummaging around in the boot of the car. In the meantime, you scan your surroundings and you’re thoroughly confused. You turn back to him when he emerges and in his hand is -

“A basketball?” You frown, automatically catching it when he tosses it to you.

“Yeah.” Jungkook grins, brushing his bangs out of his eyes.

“You want to play basketball?” you ask, trying not to sound too incredulous, but you can’t honestly think why he would want to put himself through that again. “Has your face even fully healed?”

He winces, as though the memory is painful enough. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. It got better in a couple of days. And… I don’t want to play basketball,” he adds, looking at you bashfully. “I want you to teach me basketball.”

Your heart leaps, even as you give him a look. “Why?”

“Because I’m good at most sports!” he blurts, looking adorably frustrated. “And I - I know that if I just practise a bit and get a good player to teach me the basics, I can get there. You don’t even have to start at the beginning - Yoongi hyung taught me a little this week.”

You raise your eyebrows. “He did? I thought you said he was super busy working on the comeback album.”

“Well, yeah, he is. But I pestered him so he finally agreed to give me thirty minutes if I promised not to bother him again. And I wasn’t that bad,” he informs you, pointing a finger at the ball.

You’re not going to lie; you find his determination to be good at basketball, your favourite sport, extremely hot. You try not to think of the disastrous game with your friends that Jungkook had lied his way into, proceeding to get hit with the ball multiple times, trip and fall until your team achieved a historic win and Jungkook ended up with an icepack to his face.

You feel a grin forming on your face. “I mean, I wish you’d told me to wear shoes but… you really want to learn how to play basketball?” You throw the ball back to him with force and he catches it with both hands. That’s hot, you think. “Are you sure?”

He nods. “It’ll be good for me to actually know how to play the next time I join you and your friends… and your roommate.”

Ah. Everything falls into place all of a sudden - his determination to suddenly become a pro, his carefully constructed plan of making a fool of himself with Yoongi before coming to you, his subtle promise of returning to play with your friends.

“Dal is my friend, too. My oldest friend,” you emphasise, just as you had when he’d been sulking after the game that weekend. Jungkook shrugs and looks away, poking his tongue into his cheek. “But I get your point,” you add after a moment, walking forward and taking off your hoodie as you do. “Come on.” Grabbing his tattooed hand, you drag him behind you across the street. You link your fingers with his as you head to the court, feeling your heart race when he gently squeezes your hand before letting go.

“There was a lot more light last time,” comments Jungkook, standing in the centre of the court and looking around. He’s right; the only light you have right now is whatever the moonlight provides and a street lamp outside the court. “Do you know where to switch it on from?”

“Uh, yeah,” you admit, “but we can’t right now. The switchboard is inside that garage,” you tell him, pointing to the closed garage of a suburban house around twenty feet away. When Jungkook looks puzzled, you nod. “Yeah, that’s Dal’s parents’ house. They don’t really care who uses the court but technically… yeah, it belongs to them.”

“Huh.” Jungkook turns to look at the house once more before turning back to you. “Are you sure we can be here then? I had no idea.”

But you wave a hand. “Yeah, it’s alright. As long as we don’t make any noise, I don’t think it’ll be a problem.” When he simply continues looking doubtful, you walk up to him and place your hands on the ball, not taking it from him yet. He looks down at you, black bangs in his eyes. The lip ring glints dimly and you have to remind yourself to focus. “Do you want to show me what you know? Actually, we should just play a game. One on one,” you decide, letting go of the ball and walking backwards.

“Already?” he demands, suddenly looking lost. “But I -”

“That’s the best way to learn!” you call from the boundary of the court. “Come on, Jeon,” you tease, taking your stance, “I thought you liked a challenge.” You grin and see him roll his eyes, tongue poking into his cheek again before he chucks the ball to you.

“You start.”

Jungkook’s not that bad, you decide around twenty minutes later. He’s clearly learnt something; he doesn’t look as lost as he had during the game with your friends and all said and done, he’s an athletic individual. His throws are packed with strength, his aim is not bad at all and he definitely has speed.

But you’re still better - and you want to make sure he remembers that.

“Lighter on your feet, Jungkook,” you remind him, hovering by his side as he dribbles. “This isn’t football.”

“What’s wrong with football?” he asks, panting slightly. You notice him actively step off his heels as he continues and your heart swells with pride.

“There’s nothing wrong with football, it’s just not basketball,” you answer, still watching him, your eyes moving from his feet to the ball. “Because if you aren’t light on your feet -” You lunge and smoothly grab the ball, dribbling it and spinning on the spot to jump and score a clean basket. Your flip flops make a sound as you land back on the ground before turning to Jungkook with a sparkling smile. “That’s eight-two,” you declare, stepping up on the raised platform that the basket is set up on.

He walks over to you, the annoyance clear on his handsome face. You can’t help but grin wider as he approaches you, stopping about five inches away.

“I’m as tall as you now,” you remark, moving closer and standing up straight.

Jungkook scoffs. “Barely.”

“Wow, you really hate losing, don’t you?” you tease, trying not to pay attention to how big he looks in front of you. You see his gaze dart to your mouth before meeting yours again.

“I’m not losing,” he says shortly. “You’re supposed to be teaching me.”

“We’re keeping score,” you point out.

“We can stop.” Jungkook takes another step towards you and you can feel your smirk falter. He leans forward and you gasp softly when you feel his arm encircle your waist. “Or you can stop being annoying,” he suggests, picking you up and setting you on the ground, immediately going around you to retrieve the ball. As he passes by you, you see a hint of a smirk.

It continues like that, the night morphing from an innocent plan to a series of flirtations from both of you, one after the other. You take care to dribble as close to him as possible, backing into him whenever you can, tugging at the bottom of his t-shirt - which, for some reason, always makes his jaw harden.

For his part, Jungkook seems to be bringing out the big guns. Or he isn’t, which is even more frustrating, for he doesn’t even seem to be doing anything on purpose. Every time he passes by you, his hand brushing your waist, or the faint scent of his cologne wafting over to you, you’re one step closer to breaking His expression of fierce determination might just be the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen; it seems insane that just two weeks ago, you were humouring him while he tried to get you to accept a date and now you’re into him to the point of goosebumps erupting every time he attempts to shoot a basket and his biceps flex in the moonlight.

It’s not a warm night; it’s actually quite breezy but by the time you’re both forty minutes into the game, you can feel a thin sheen of perspiration on your neck and you tighten your ponytail, running your fingers through the ends where they’re stuck to your skin. You're suddenly glad you came out in just shorts and a t-shirt, although you suspect the latter might just be slightly see-through by now.

“One more point and I win, Jeon.” You stay nimble on your feet, blocking him while he dribbles slowly. It seemed entirely foreign to him at first but you have to admit he’s a fast learner.

“So we’re definitely keeping score then?” Jungkook meets your gaze from under his sweaty, wavy bangs, eyes narrowed and jaw hard. You could melt if you weren’t so focused on beating him.

In answer, you lunge for the ball but he blocks you with his hand, hard. “Hey!” you exclaim, stumbling as he makes a series of quick movements and shoots, half-chuckling when the ball clunkily goes into the basket. He turns to you.

“What were you saying about keeping score again?”

“You - you can’t do that!” You stride over to him and give his shoulder a solid push, huffing when he doesn’t move an inch.

“What? Shoot?”

“No, before that. You were travelling,” you inform him, pointing to the path he took before shooting. “You can’t take more than two steps with the ball in your hand and you took, like, four.”

He frowns. “No, I didn’t.” When you give him a look, he raises his eyebrows. “Are you calling me a cheater?”

“I’m -” You lick your lips, suddenly realising how close to you he is. “I’m not calling you a cheater, I’m correcting a mistake. Isn’t that why you brought me here?”

“You really hate losing, don’t you?” Jungkook smirks, the lip ring glinting again.

“Fuck you.”

“Whenever you want.”

The ball rolls over and you flick it up with your foot, catching it and not breaking eye contact with him. There’s a heat; a hot, stinging heat low in your abdomen. It doesn’t escape you that neither of you have moved away from each other; in fact, if anything, Jungkook’s scent seems closer than ever.

“I’m not losing,” you tell him after a moment, hoping he doesn’t notice how your voice shakes. “I’m still four points ahead of you.”

“I know you are, baby, but I’m also catching up pretty fast,” he says kindly, apparently unaware of how your heart stutters.

You hate this. You were the composed one so far, the one who rolled your eyes whenever he said something sweet, the one who teased him until his ears turned red, the one who finally gave in to his endearing charm. Now, however, he’s the smirky one and it’s throwing you for a loop. In the inadvertent battle of mutual attraction poorly concealed with sarcastic banter, the tables have turned and you find yourself frustrated in more ways than one.

“I’m not losing,” you repeat in a low voice. You toss the ball in your hand and take a step back. “My turn, yes?” Moving to stand outside the boundary of the court, you bounce the ball once, twice, never taking your eyes off Jungkook. When the play begins, you dribble the ball over to your court, feeling his large figure behind you. You’re close, though, and you’re focusing, the competitiveness in you rising more than you anticipated when you started. Just when you’re about to shoot a layup, you feel the front of your flip flop fold under your foot. You trip and gasp as you stumble forward, pulled up at the last second by a hand around your forearm. The ball falls out of your hand and rolls away.

“What the -” You straighten up, watching the ball in horror as it crosses the boundary and slows to a stop, before rounding on Jungkook. “What did you do? I was about to shoot!”

“You were about to trip.” He lets go of your arm and points at your flip flops. “Probably my fault, though. I should’ve told you to wear shoes.”

You scoff. “I would’ve scored that point.”

“Really? Lying on the ground?”

“I would’ve gotten back up.” You place your hands on your hips and shake your head. “The things you’ll do not to lose, Jeon…”

Jungkook chuckles, a little disbelievingly. “Am I getting in trouble for not letting you get hurt?”

Your heart thuds. You swallow, changing the subject. “You’re not shooting properly. You’re flicking your wrist too much; you’ll injure it. Do it like this.” You demonstrate the right way to him.

He mimics your hand movement until you nod in approval. “Thanks. Good to know you care.”

You roll your eyes. “You have a comeback soon. The last thing we need is a million hearts breaking around the world because you can’t hold your mic properly.”

“Baby, I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

You shove his chest, unable to suppress your smile as Jungkook laughs, grabbing your wrist before you can drop your hand. “You’re an idiot,” is all you can say, the grudging affection in your voice completely apparent.

Jungkook grins, looking more handsome than ever, and tugs at your hand to bring you closer. “An idiot who didn’t let you fall,” he reminds you, winking.

“Shut up,” you mutter, reaching up to grab the back of his neck and kissing him. He seems surprised for a fraction of a second before responding instantly and passionately, gripping your waist and pulling you to him. It’s like a breath of fresh air, finally giving in to your impulses, for Jungkook feels like everything you’d imagined and more. His lips are firm on yours, moving in tandem with yours, his hold on you strong and steady. His hair is damp when you get on your tiptoes and run your fingers through it, pulling at it lightly and hearing him whine low from the back of his throat.

There’s a moment when Jungkook tightens his arms around you before walking you backwards. You feel him moving but you’re too focused on him, on how much you’ve been wanting to do this all night, how strong he is - you don’t think you’re ever getting over that fact. You feel your back bump against something, feeling cold metal against your waist where your shirt has ridden up.

“Shit,” you gasp softly in surprise. Looking up at Jungkook, you feel stirrings you haven’t felt in forever, of raw sexual frustration coupled with a desperate need for intimacy with one person only. He’s panting slightly, his eyes are narrowed and the apples of his cheeks are red. The lip ring glints again and a memory comes floating into your mind. You touch it and bite your lip.

“This really doesn’t get in the way, huh,” you remark softly. You don’t know if you’re panting because you’ve just played nearly an hour of basketball or because of the weather or because Jungkook literally takes your breath away, but when he smiles a half-smile, eyes dark and heavy, you think you can safely choose the latter.

“I told you it wouldn’t,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before deepening it slowly. His hands move down your side to your hips where he grips them and presses them against his pelvis. You feel his clear pulsating bulge through his thin joggers and moan into his mouth, pulling at his t-shirt and bringing him even closer. He moves his lips to your jaw, trailing kisses all the way down to your neck while one hand snakes up under your t-shirt and lightly squeezes your breast. You grip his shoulders, the heat between your legs almost painful when you feel how hard and muscled they are, when you notice something that makes your blood run cold.

“Shit.” When you spot movement, you start pushing him away. “Oh, God. Jungkook, stop. Stop.”

Jungkook frowns and pulls away immediately, eyes suddenly wide and full of anxiety. “What? Did I do something? What did -”

“No, no, it’s not you. It’s -” You point to the house behind him - to Dal’s house. He turns around and you can practically feel the moment his confusion turns to panic, when he freezes because he’s noticed what you have.

“Please tell me that the light in the window was on the whole time,” he says slowly.

“Someone just turned it on,” you say hurriedly, pushing him back and hopping off the raised platform. “Come on, we have to go.”

“But -” Jungkook turns back to you, looking bewildered. “I thought you said it was okay for us to be here. That they don’t care?”

“They don’t care if people play basketball during normal hours,” you correct him, already moving to where your hoodie and phones are kept on the side of the court and dragging him by the hand. “But Dal’s parents have known me since I was fifteen years old - I’d really prefer they didn’t see me fornicating on their property. Now come on, we have to go back to the car.”

“But - but we were -”

You turn around and continue walking backwards, now faster, continuing to pull Jungkook along. “I know, Kook, that’s why I said we should get back to your car.”

Back at the car, the light blinks the same moment you place your hand on the handle of the backseat door. Once inside, you practically pick up where you left off.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” you mutter, when he pulls away from you momentarily to take off his t-shirt. His muscled torso looks delicious - and it’s a moment before you realise you’ve said it out loud. Jungkook’s eyes widen very slightly before he grins and runs a hand through his hair.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, kissing you once again as he drops his t-shirt on the floor of the car - right on top of yours. “I’d say the same to you,” he adds, bringing his lips to your neck once more as softly squeezes your right breast, running his thumb over the clothed nipple.

You let out a moan, louder than you intended, and pull him closer to you, wanting to feel every inch of his honey-coloured torso against yours. He nudges your legs open with his knee and you grind against his thigh, your core aching deliciously at the friction. The moment his lips travel lower down your neck and reach your cleavage and you sit up slightly to take off your bra, you hear an unmistakable sound. People.

“Oh, God.” You sit up further, ignoring Jungkook’s annoyed groan which, soon enough, turns into a similar kind of horror.

“Are they - Lia, you told me it was okay for us to be here!”

“I thought it was!” you exclaim as you both adjust yourselves on the backseat to see better. Two more lights have been switched on inside the house and three people have come out of it - two grown men and a woman in a nightgown. One of the men goes straight towards the basketball court and that’s when you notice they have -

“Flashlights,” whispers Jungkook.

“Okay, we have to get out of here,” you tell him quickly, reaching blindly for the t-shirt you’d discarded minutes ago. When he doesn’t move and simply shifts to get a better view, you nudge him forcefully. “Jungkook, you can’t be spotted making out with some girl in public.”

“You’re not some girl,” he disagrees, almost absently. “What are they even looking for…?”

You turn to look just when the lady - whom you’re one hundred percent sure is Dal’s mother - points to the car and loudly says something.

“Shit!”

Both of you swear together. Jungkook scrambles off of you gracelessly, stumbling over the gear shift and into the driver’s seat, switching it on with a jerk and immediately zooming away.

“Jungkook, shirt!” you yell as you approach the main road which has a lot more cars and people around, knowing well enough that even the slightest portion of his profile is enough for his fans to recognise him - and that profile doesn’t need to be of his face. You throw his t-shirt at him before you hurriedly pull on your own, groaning when he brakes suddenly and you’re thrown off the backseat.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” he apologises, sounding horrified as you climb into the shotgun seat and strap yourself in. He’s stopped just before a turn into the main road, giving you a chance to straighten up before continuing to drive.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say quickly, reaching over and dusting the shoulder on his t-shirt. “Damn it, I really thought it was going to be okay back there.”

Jungkook shrugs in a matter-of-fact way. “I didn’t think it was that bad,” he says, apparently unable to keep from smiling.

You bite your lip, knowing your cheeks must be reddening. “Me neither.” There’s a moment where you both gaze at each other in the mutual knowledge that your ambiguous relationship has become just slightly more tangible, a bit more real. You’re almost disappointed when he clears his throat and clutches the steering wheel again and, after checking if you’re good, starts the car again.

As it turns out, your disappointment doesn’t last for too long.

“Didn’t expect to end up here tonight, I have to say,” mutters Jungkook against your lips as you kick the door shut behind you.

“Really? Not even when you showed up out of the blue and whisked me away in your car?” You slip out of your flip flops and tug on his t-shirt, which he takes off in one swift motion over his head.

“Not even when your landlady spotted us downstairs a minute ago.”

You cringe at the memory before kissing him again. “Yeah, I’d rather not scandalize an old lady by giving her a show right out there in public,” you reason, taking off your own top and pushing him backwards towards your bedroom, palms flat on his abdomen.

“Wait, isn’t - isn’t Dal here?” he asks, momentarily separating to look around the dark living room.

“No, he’s not home,” you breathe, pushing him all the way inside your room and shutting the door behind you. Inside, he turns you both around so he can back you onto the bed and climbs on top of you, lips on yours once again. You run your hands through his hair again, bending your knees and moaning softly when he rolls his hips slightly and his bulge, which has evidently gone nowhere, rubs against your core through your thin shorts and underwear.

You reach backwards towards the table lamp and switch it on, bathing the room in a dim yellow light. Jungkook lowers himself again, this time able to finally pay attention to the rest of your body without being cramped inside his car, and you sigh at how incredible his mouth feels against your skin. You sit up slightly to take off your bra and you hear him groan softly against your chest.

“I’ve been waiting for this longer than you know,” he murmurs, bringing one hand up to knead your breast before kissing his way down your chest, down your cleavage and taking your nipple into his mouth.

“God, that feels good…” You clutch at his hair, loving how he grunts when you pull at it. Letting go of your nipple, he lowers himself further down your sternum before you hear him chuckle softly. “What?”

“Found your second tattoo,” he answers, kissing the skin on your ribcage just below your left breast. He looks up at you and your heart skips a beat.

“You can find the other three, too,” you tell him, winking, already anticipating the things he would have to do to find them.

Almost as though he can read your mind, he smiles and comes back up to kiss you. “You’re gorgeous, Lia,” he murmurs against your lips and you kiss him back as deeply as you can.

Thud. The sound of the front door opening almost gives you a heart attack, but it’s nothing compared to what Jungkook feels when he hears Dal’s voice.

“Yo, Lia, are you home?” There’s the sound of shuffling outside while Jungkook turns slowly to look towards the bedroom door.

“Are you kidding me?” he whispers, looking murderous.

Sensing you’re about to lose him, you turn his face back around to look at you. After all, if all goes well, this isn’t the only time you’re both likely to be hooking up in here. “Forget him,” you say quickly, taking a call and flipping him over so you’re straddling him.

It seems to distract him for the moment so you kiss him, feeling a momentary relief when he responds, bringing his hands up to your hips. It barely lasts a second, however, before there’s a loud knock at your door.

“I’m heading in for a shower!” Dal yells, voice much louder now. “Do you know if the laundry guy brought back my boxers?”

“And flatline,” mutters Jungkook, dropping his head back on the bed as you sit up, sighing in annoyance.

“Dal, I have no idea!” you reply loudly. “Why can’t you keep track of your own clothes, you weirdo?”

“I can, I just don’t know if - hey, why the hell are your clothes on the living room floor? Damn it, Lee-lee, you’re always making such a mess of the - oh.”

You sigh and drop your head in your hands. Underneath you, Jungkook whispers in mild incredulity, “This is karma. It has to be.”

There’s another knock on your door, softer this time. “Uh… I’ll be in my room,” says Dal, sounding a mixture of apologetic, embarrassed and amused. “For the night,” he adds.

You don’t dignify this with a response. Dal’s reaction isn’t surprising; it wasn’t a month ago when a conversation about nothing had somehow segued into a discussion about your sex life, or lack thereof, with Dal declaring that he’d never liked your ex-boyfriend. While you’re sure he didn’t think Jungkook was just a platonic friend based on the night they’d first met when Dal had invited him to that disaster of a basketball game, you’d rather avoid them running into each other right now.

You look back down at Jungkook who’s glaring sideways at your closet, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. With his topless figure and clenched jaw, he looks like a vision, especially when you consider what’s pissing him off. You pick up your bra and put it back on before bending over him and softly kissing his cheek in apology.

“Kook.” You feel him turn slightly towards you and you lift your head. “I’m sorry about that,” you murmur, nudging his jaw with your nose.

Jungkook sighs deeply. “It’s fine, Lee-lee,” he says dramatically, half-chuckling when you roll your eyes and move away from him. He moves to sit up, his hair wavy and messy, while he leans back on his hands. He looks absolutely incredible. “I just… I think I owe Namjoon hyung and Kaya an apology,” he mutters, shaking his head.

You frown, about to ask, when you hear the bathroom door outside close, followed by the sound of a shower running. “Okay, he’s gone,” you tell him quickly, clambering off his lap and ignoring Jungkook’s protests. “This is our chance.” You jog over to the door and open it a crack, spotting both your t-shirts in a pile on the floor. Cheeks burning, you snatch them up and shut the door behind you before throwing Jungkook his t-shirt.

When you’re both clothed, you open the door gingerly again, feeling Jungkook standing right behind you with a hand resting on your shoulder. “Alright, we’re clear,” you mutter, stepping out and noting the sound of the shower still running. You stop by the front door while Jungkook pulls on his shoes and you can’t help but feel a little sad to see him go. Straightening up, he runs a hand through his hair before dropping it and looking back down at you.

“Guess we’ll have to wait for the official third date for anything more to happen,” you speak, only half-joking.

Jungkook nods slowly. “Yeah. And maybe hope for fewer interruptions. Oh, speaking of thirds,” he adds, eyes lighting up, “I found another tattoo.” He reaches for your collarbone and lightly runs his hand down the back of your shoulder under your hair, apparently oblivious to the goosebumps that erupt on the back of your neck, until he reaches a spot a couple of inches below your shoulder blade.

“Not bad, Jeon.”

He rubs his fingers along the text, as though hoping to read it like Braille. “I couldn’t read it, though.”

“It’s Japanese.” You wait for him to ask, but he doesn’t take the bait.

“So… I’ll see you Saturday, then?” he asks, bringing his hand up to your collarbone again so he can brush his thumb against your jaw. When you nod, your gaze falling to his mouth, he tilts your head up and kisses you again. You pull him closer by his t-shirt before snaking your arms up his chest and wrapping them around his neck. Jungkook’s arms go around your waist, strong and steady as always, lips firm and soft all at once. You open your mouth against his and he sighs, pulling you to him. Neither of you notice when the shower stops running.

The bathroom door thuds open and the scent of body wash wafts out. “Lia?” Dal’s voice is tentative, but loud enough for both of you to spring apart.

“I’m going to kill him,” mutters Jungkook, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I swear to God, I’m going to fucking -”

You try to stifle a giggle. “Okay, shush, I’m sure he can -”

“Hey, oh - you guys are still here.”

You turn towards the hallway and almost groan out loud. Dal, in nothing but a towel around his waist, his hair wet droplets of water still glistening on his shoulders, approaches you with a smile on his face. You recall Jungkook’s reaction when you’d told him Dal was a physical trainer and you just hope in that moment that neither of them makes this a bigger deal than it is.

“Hey, man,” says Dal, reaching over to offer a hand that Jungkook takes with a stony expression. “Really good to see you again.”

“Yeah, real pleasure.”

There’s an awkward pause where nothing happens and you’re standing between two men of equal height, one with a semi in his joggers and the other in nothing but a towel. Then -

“So, are you guys hungry or -”

“Dal,” you interrupt, turning to him, “leave.”

Dal’s eyes widen and he looks between you and Jungkook as though just realising he might be interrupting. “Oh, am I -”

“Yes.” You glare at him, resisting the urge to physically push him out. You don’t face Jungkook again until Dal’s retreated back into his bedroom and you hear the door close. “I might just join you for the killing process,” you tell him, unable to stop grinning at his annoyed expression.

“Good. Should we do it right now? Because I can -”

Completely endeared, you laugh and reach up to interrupt him with another kiss before gently pushing him back by the chest and opening the door behind him. “I’ll see you on Saturday, Kook.”

Jungkook continues as he steps backwards and out the door. “No, but I’m pretty sure I can take him, he doesn’t look all that -”

“Saturday, Jungkook!” You blow him a kiss before shutting the door and stay there, trying to temper down the smile on your face before making your way inside.

—

“Isn’t this Epik High?”

“This voice is way deeper, no?”

“Is it…?”

Jungkook frowns, leaning closer to the phone in your hand and concentrating on the two second clip. “It sounds familiar… hang on, can I try guessing?”

You hand him your phone and lean back against the wall of the elevator, watching him as he brings the phone close to his ear and listens to the clip again. His elbows are resting on his thighs and his back is hunched slightly as he sits motionless, the leather jacket stretching attractively across his shoulders.

“I think it’s…” He trails off and types something before apparently reconsidering his guess and backspacing before bringing the phone back to his ear. You watch him with a mild endearment you’ve come to associate entirely with Jeon Jungkook, smiling slightly to yourself when you take note of his face scrunched up in concentration, frowning as he chews on his bottom lip.

It’s the night of your long-awaited third date. Jungkook had picked you up from your apartment in his Hyundai, looking heartbreakingly handsome in dark jeans, a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket as he’d smiled at you. He’d bit his lower lip as you neared him and lowered his head to give you a chaste, lingering kiss on the cheek before opening the car door for you.

“No baseball cap this time, I see,” you’d commented, strapping yourself in.

“No, ma’am,” he’d agreed, running a hand through his hair. “I take threats very seriously.”

He’d barely driven out of your lane before he’d realised he didn’t have his phone, so with a note of apology, he’d turned the car around to pick up his phone from his apartment. On the way up, the elevator had got stuck - thirty minutes ago.

It isn’t exactly how you imagined this date would start, but things happening spontaneously and off-schedule seems to be a running theme with you and Jungkook. You’re both sitting across from each other on the floor of the softly lit elevator, playing game after game of Heardle on your phone. You love games and Jungkook hates losing, and together you’ve barely noticed the thirty minutes go by.

“Okay, I think this B.I.,” declares Jungkook after a moment, typing out the name with a flourish. The phone pings, indicating it’s the right answer, and his face lights up. “I was right!”

“Congratulations,” you say, taking your phone back and pinching his cheek, smiling at how the tips of his ears turn red. “Can you guess when this elevator will open for us now?”

“Oh, I can probably -”

Just as he speaks, the elevator jerks and you feel it moving upwards. “Huh.” You give him an approving look. “Do you have some superpowers I don’t know about?” you ask, taking his hand as you both get to your feet.

“I’m not the golden maknae for nothing,” he replies, looping an arm around your waist and pinching your side playfully. You poke his side in return but can’t help but lean into him a little. You’d underestimated the weather, leaving the apartment in nothing but a thin floral printed blouse and high-waisted jeans. But the wind had picked up almost instantly and the entirety of Jungkook’s building was seemingly air conditioned, including the elevator. All said and done, you find yourself satisfied with your excuses to lean into Jungkook’s side whenever the opportunity presents itself.

When the elevator pings open, you step out into a similarly lit corridor, your shoes clacking sharply against the shiny floor as you walk beside Jungkook to what looks like the only door on the floor.

“It’s for security,” he explains, as though reading your mind, unlocking the door and stepping aside to let you in first. “So, uh… this is it,” he says lamely, sounding a bit nervous as he follows just behind you and turns on the lights. It’s a huge penthouse, predictably; in fact, you’re pretty sure your entire apartment can fit inside his living room alone. Amidst the expensive decor and perfect lighting, however, it still looks like a regular person’s apartment, with a hoodie folded on the back of one of the fancy dining chairs, a can of diet coke on the coffee table and a video game console strewn on the couch next to a pillow that’s clearly been brought from a bedroom.

“What do you think?”

You whip around to see Jungkook emerging from the kitchen with a bottle of water that he hands you. “I think… you were playing FIFA last night after I told you to go to sleep?”

He grins bashfully. “You told me to go to sleep or to stop bothering you.” He shrugs. “I did one of those things.”

“Yeah, you did,” you agree, lightly knocking his jaw with your fist. He catches it easily and brings your hands down, linking your fingers before letting go.

“I think my phone’s inside. I’ll be right back, okay?” He presses a quick kiss to your knuckles and goes inside, and your hand feels warm where his lips had touched it. You turn to watch him go, realising belatedly that you’re still smiling and immediately straighten your face, taking a few tentative steps into his living room.

You’re gazing at a framed picture on his TV cabinet of him and another guy, maybe a few years older, both of them cuddling a bunch of dogs. Next to it is another picture of him with the rest of BTS, all of them posing goofily for the camera on what looks like some kind of boat, next to a large picture of a Doberman. You pick it up, a smile tugging at your lips and whip around when you hear Jungkook re-enter the room, whistling softly as he looks down at his phone.

“Okay, so it turns out the reason we were stuck in the elevator,” he begins, looking up blankly, “is because there was a fire in the building.”

You place the picture back and stare at him. “A what now?”

“Yeah, I know, right?”

“You -” It takes you a moment to process it. “We were inside an elevator during a fire? We could have been killed!”

Jungkook nods slowly, the realisation apparently just hitting him. “Yeah, let’s go ahead and not mention that to anyone? The last thing I need is my manager accompanying me everywhere because he thinks I’m some kind of idiot.”

“Yeah, he’s the problem,” you say dryly, rolling your eyes when he grins sheepishly. “Do you think we can see the fire from here, though?” you ask, making your way to the window anyway. When you open the blinds slightly, you’re met with a whole other discovery. “Well, now we know why the fire is no longer a problem.”

Jungkook comes up behind you and groans. “It’s raining again?”

It’s pouring, actually, but you see no reason to say that out loud. “Come on, it’s alright. I’m sure it’ll stop soon.”

He huffs, looking rather incongruous along with the leather jacket and facial piercings. “Fine,” he says heavily, deliberately taking off his jacket and tossing it onto the couch. “Guess we’ll just wait it out.”

“Or… we can still go. I can drive if you’re not comfortable in the rain,” you offer.

But he shakes his head. “No, the - the date is… we’re going to be outdoors,” he stutters evasively, the tips of his ears turning red again.

You raise your eyebrows in approval, your stomach fluttering. “Wow. Sounds exciting. Sure, we can wait it out,” you agree, nodding and turning back to the window. “Besides, staying in and waiting for the rain to stop sounds kind of like our thing.”

Jungkook chuckles and you feel his arms wrap around your waist, shivering slightly when he lowers his head onto your shoulder. “It could be worse,” he murmurs, lips ghosting over your skin before kissing the spot below your shoulder blade, right where your tattoo is. You feel goosebumps erupt on your neck but if he notices, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead he moves up and takes your small, dangly earring between his teeth, mock-growling and tightening his arms around you.

You burst into giggles and push him away jokingly. “My labrador used to do that, too, Kook,” you inform him as he laughs and moves away.

“I do share many similarities with labradors,” he says seriously, going back into the kitchen and opening the fridge.

“Like the ability to eat anything, all the time, no matter what?”

“That and the lovable personality.” He emerges with a can of beer. “Want one?”

“Don’t you have to drive?”

“I do, which is why I’m not drinking. But you’re a guest, so…” He waves the can in front of you like a rattle.

“Uh… yeah, sure,” you decide, seeing how you’re probably going to be here for a bit. “Are you going to tell me what the date is, though?”

“No, I want to see your reaction to it,” he replies, sounding rather neutral, as though there’s a chance you might not like it. He’s doing that thing again, you realise, where he looks big and tall and tattooed up but says or does one thing that suddenly reminds you of a Pixar animation, with his big eyes and nervousness.

It’s endearing as always and you roll your eyes in part exasperation and part affection as you walk over to the couch and take a seat next to him. It’s a large, comfortable couch and when you lean back, you pretend not to notice how he subtly performs the age old trick, stretching and quietly bringing his tattooed arm to rest behind your head on the back of the couch.

“It’s a nice apartment. Or, a nice living room,” you amend, opening the can with a pop.

Jungkook grins. “Yeah? I’ll give you a tour later.”

“A third date kind of tour?” you flirt, nudging his side.

“Yeah, well.” He shrugs, even as a small smile appears on his face. “The third date needs to actually happen before you can get your hands on this,” he says, gesturing dramatically to his torso.

You laugh. “Come on, the rain wasn’t your fault.” You mean it, but it’s clear he’s still miffed so in an effort to distract him, you reach forward and pick up the gaming console on the centre table. “Do you have another one so I can kick your ass at FIFA?”

It works, for the pout on his face instantly changes into a blank stare with one eyebrow raised. With his hair brushed off his forehead and the eyebrow piercing suddenly more visible than ever, you feel insanely attracted to him, just like on the basketball court earlier this week.

“Be careful, Cheon Lia. This isn’t basketball,” he says warningly, but you can see the spark of excitement in his eyes.

“Yeah, I know. Do you want to play?” You try to keep a straight face as a hint of a smirk creeps onto his face, almost though he knows what you’re doing. You simply hold his gaze, daring him to call you out until he rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically, standing up and walking over to the cabinet under the TV and you catch a whiff of his warm cologne.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, coming back to sit next to you with another console and turning on the TV. He scrolls through the games he has installed; you notice three different versions of FIFA, Mario Kart, Need For Speed, a Formula One game and a bunch of others that he flicks past to get to the game you’re about to play. “I’m really good at FIFA. Most video games, actually.”

Something prickles at the corner of your mind but you push it away, not wanting to go there tonight. “So am I. They used to call me Ace Lee in high school, you know?”

“Like Bruce Lee?”

“Probably? Point is, I’m pretty good at most things.”

Jungkook grins, his eyes flickering down your figure before meeting yours again. “I’m sure you are.”

Your heart skips a beat and you quickly turn away before he can lower your guard, sitting up and getting your console ready. “Just turn on the game, Jeon.”

“Whatever you say, baby.”

Forty minutes and two beers later, both of you sit back on the couch, panting slightly.

“Okay,” says Jungkook evenly, dropping his console to the side. “So… we’re not - we’re not bad.”

You shake your head. “Nope. We’re both… very good.” When all he does is nod slowly in response, you bite your lip. “There’s no way we’re stopping now, right?”

Jungkook scoffs. “When we’re one each? Not a chance.” He looks past you at the window. “The rain’s gotten better, though…”

You turn to look as well, realising that you’d forgotten for a bit there as to why you’re here at all. “Oh. So should we go then? I mean, we can always play the third game later,” you reason, trying to sound nonchalant even though you know there’s no way you’ll be able to stop thinking about it.

He chews on his bottom lip, clearly contemplating, and finally takes out his phone to check something. “Um… we’ve probably got time for one more game?”

“Exactly what I wanted to hear,” you chuckle, kissing him on the cheek before getting up and heading towards the kitchen. You get a drink of water, Jungkook coming over and helping you navigate the large, open kitchen and offering you yet another beer.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Jeon?” you ask, narrowing your eyes as he presents you with the third can.

His eyes widen. “What? No. I was just offering -” He breaks off when you snort and mock punches your jaw. “Evil, Lee-lee.”

You give him a look, automatically linking your fingers with his and bringing your hands down together. “You’re really calling me Lee-lee?”

“Isn’t that what your friends call you?”

“That’s what a friend calls me.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Not sure you can call him a friend if he cock blocks you that many times in one night,” he grumbles, making you laugh and squeeze his hand.

“You can call me Lee-lee.”

“Nah, I’ll come up with something else. Ace.”

You bristle. “What? You don’t believe it?”

He shrugs innocently. “We are one each.”

“Fine. No more beer for me, then,” you decide. “I want to be in possession of all my faculties for this third match. Unless you’ll have one, too.”

But he shakes his head. “I have to drive.”

“Convenient.”

“You know it. You can eat something, though, if you need solids.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” you admit, your stomach rumbling the moment you realise how hungry you are. “I had a really early lunch today. But aren’t we going out…?”

Jungkook hesitates, looking out the kitchen window. It’s still raining, but it’s definitely not as heavy as it was before. “I thought we’d stop on the way to get something to eat before the - before the thing.” He looks down at you and shrugs. “But it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen. Do you want ramen?” he asks, letting go of your hand and opening one of the cabinets to reveal what looks like six months worth of ramen inside it. “I have different flavours, but this one’s my favourite…”

You nod, not knowing what else to do. It’s clear he’s disappointed about the night not going as planned and you find yourself wanting to reach for him, possibly hug his muscled shoulders and kiss him until he forgets. But when he presents three different cups of ramen to you, your hunger takes precedence and you choose the hot chilli ramen.

“Good choice,” he remarks approvingly, taking two cups of said flavour and bustling around, heating the water and fumbling with the wrappers. It’s rather endearing to watch and when he’s finally done, you follow him into the living room with your steaming cup and a pair of chopsticks.

“That was good,” he sighs five minutes later, once he’s polished off his bowl. “Are you done?”

“Just about.” You pick up the last piece of chicken and hold it out. “Do you want the last one?”

Jungkook eyes it for a moment before looking up at you and, apparently deciding you’re serious, leans forward with his mouth open so you can drop it in. “Thanks,” he says with his mouth full.

You chuckle, placing your empty bowl at the corner of the table and picking up the console. “Ready for the battle of the century, golden maknae?”

“Bring it, Ace.”

Ten minutes in, all thoughts of endearment and affection are out the window as you concentrate on the TV screen with all your energy. Next to you, Jungkook sits forward with his legs spread out in front of him, elbows resting on his thighs as he holds his console in the centre, tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he focuses on the screen. You’re sitting similarly, and even through your awareness of how seriously you’re both taking this, you find yourself giving it your all.

“Oh, come on!” Jungkook groans and falls back on the couch before getting up. “Lucky shot,” he mutters, flicking your temple lightly when you laugh.

“Don’t be a sore loser, Kook,” you tell him cheerfully, ruffling his hair and kissing him on the cheek. “Come on, it's a match point. Do your worst, Jeon.”

“You’re an insufferable winner, you know that?”

“Try saying that without smiling, maybe?”

Straightening his face instantly, Jungkook turns back towards the TV. “Alright, that’s enough trash talk. You haven’t won yet,” he reminds you, holding up the remote with his thumb hovering over the Continue button and clicking it.

This play goes on for much longer, long enough that it’s more or less half the game. You’re both playing your best, attempting subtle trash talk but once you realise you’re both embarrassingly terrible at it, you stop and get back to focusing on the game.

“Jungkook, what are you -”

“Hey, that's a foul!”

“No, that was almost a foul, don’t - no!” The game ends and Jungkook sits back, raising his hands and grinning in victory.

“Ah, that feels good.” He exhales happily and turns towards you, looking the most upbeat you’ve seen him be all night. “Good game,” he adds, sounding playful yet slightly taunting.

You push him on the shoulder, scowling. “Shut up.”

“What? I mean it,” he replies, reaching for your wrist but grabbing only air when you get up off the couch and head to the kitchen. “Oh, come on, Lia,” he says, chortling as he gets up as well and follows you into the kitchen where you open the fridge, and wraps his arms around your shoulders. “Don’t be a sore loser,” he teases, repeating your own words with his lips at your hair.

Rolling your eyes, you hold onto his forearm and elbow him in the side, heart fluttering begrudgingly when he giggles. “You won by the skin of your teeth, Jeon,” you remind him, turning around in his arms and almost forgetting to breathe when you find your mouth inches away from his. "It was a good game, though, I'll give you that," you admit, your heart zooming when his hands slide down to your waist.

"You were a worthy opponent, too," he says generously, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

You nod, eyes still closed and forehead still pressed to his. "Best three out of five?"

He snorts and kisses you again, laughing against your mouth. "Don't worry, maybe I'll let you win next time."

You pull away and grab the collar of his t-shirt in your fists. "I will end your life if you ever do that."

"Point taken." He kisses the tip of your nose and looks down at you with a small smile and you think it's fondness, the thought of which terrifies you and thrills you in equal measure. You're about to reach up and kiss him again, hoping to keep it going this time when his phone pings. One arm still around you, he reaches into his back pocket to pull out his cell. You watch him as he reads the text, frowning when his face falls.

“Damn it.” Jungkook sighs and lets go of you, tossing his phone on the counter and running a hand through his hair.

“What’s wrong?”

“I -” He looks at you and hesitates, as though contemplating whether to tell you. “They - they cancelled the thing. Because of the rain and because even if it stops, it’ll be too late and…” He trails off, looking absolutely crushed.

It takes you a moment to realise that he’s talking about your date. “Oh. You mean where we were going to…” When he nods at the floor forlornly, you sigh. You’re not sure if it’s disappointment exactly that you feel; you’ve had a pretty good time so far, with enough and more moments where you’d forgotten about the date entirely. But when you see how devastated Jungkook looks, you suddenly feel bad. “Just - just out of curiosity,” you begin, leaning sideways on the kitchen counter next to him, “what was the date? I mean, you can tell me now, right?”

Jungkook looks up at you, evidently deciding to spill. “It was one of those… you know, those drive-in movies. Where everybody sits in a huge park or whatever and watches a movie on a projector…” He shrugs, the tips of his ears turning red. “It was the first time one of those was happening in Seoul and I thought… the movie was Mulholland Drive,” he finishes despondently.

You don’t know what to say. You had your doubts, even after the night he snuck you out, if you two would have that sustained chemistry or if you would ever be able to look at him as someone more than a fun crush and a fling. Now, with the way your chest expands with more affection than you would’ve thought possible, it occurs to you that if Jungkook continues being this genuine and sweet, apart from being hideously attractive, you’re in real danger of properly falling for him.

Biting your lip, you reach for his tattooed hand. “That sounds really nice,” you tell him softly. When he doesn’t respond, you tug him closer, subtly rolling your eyes when he barely moves. “Kook, come on, you can’t really be blaming yourself for this.”

“One date!” he exclaims, making you jump. “We couldn’t have one proper date together without the rain or - or Dal or someone just shutting down an entire event. Screw it, I’m having a beer.” He strides past you and flings open the fridge, snatching a can of beer and popping it open with a vengeance. Taking a large swig, he brings the can down and winces as the mouthful of beer hits his throat.

You can’t decide if you want to laugh or hug him, so you settle for silently taking another beer as well and clinking it with his before taking a sip.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“No, I ruined another date. Or another chance at a date,” he mutters, hanging his head.

“Jesus, Kook. I’ve had a great time regardless,” you tell him, almost challenging him to complain further.

“You’re just saying that,” he says in a small voice, although he does look slightly mollified. “I just… I feel bad. The first date sucked because of me, the second one barely counted as a date, then we kept cancelling third and now that we’re finally here… we get stuck in the elevator for thirty minutes and then it rains and then you get beaten at FIFA?”

His creeping grin is almost worth the reminder of your defeat. “You’re fine,” you note shortly, rolling your eyes and pulling him by the hand again into the living room. “Also - Mulholland Drive?”

Jungkook nods, leaning against the back of the couch and pulling you casually to stand between his legs. “It’s a good movie. Or so I’ve heard. One of my friends has been recommending it to me forever but I never got around to watching it.”

“Me neither.” You observe him thoughtfully for a moment. “It’s on Netflix, though.”

He raises his eyebrows and thirty seconds later, you’re disposing of both cans of beer before you come out to see Jungkook turning the TV stand to face the balcony. “I, uh… I thought we could still do the outdoor thing. If - if you want,” he adds sheepishly. “The balcony has a roof so it’s dry.”

You nod, unable to find words, as a heart-tugging smile breaks across his handsome face and he scurries inside, calling at the last minute for you to take cushions from the couch.

“It can get cold,” he says, entering the balcony with a blanket in his hands. You take it wordlessly as he settles down next to you on the floor of the balcony, both your backs against the cushions propped up by the railings. The TV stand has been turned inside the living room and pushed close to the balcony so the flatscreen is at perfect eye level.

Jungkook tosses the blanket over both of you, adjusting it so you’re both covered. “Ready?” He turns on the movie as you sit beside each other, arms pressed together at the opening credits come on. It’s as good as Jungkook could have possibly improvised, you think, given the onslaught of things outside his control. Since it rained for over an hour, the air is cold and wet, the breeze making goosebumps erupt on your arms. You consider doing a filmy, date kind of thing and dropping your head on his shoulder, maybe looping your hand around his arm - but it’s not long before something else comes up.

“You’re - Jungkook, stop!”

“No, you stop!”

You gasp when he yanks the blanket hard and it almost slides off of you. “You can’t just steal the whole blanket,” you hiss, keeping your voice low for the movie.

“I’m stealing it? You’re the one who needs to fold it - you’re basically using double of what I am!”

“It’s a tiny blanket.”

“It’s from the guest room.” He scoffs, looking annoyed. “You know what? This is the sixth thing: you’re a blanket thief!” he whispers loudly.

You glare at him. “It’s cold.”

“Well, who asked you to wear only one layer?”

“It’s summer! I didn’t know we'd have a freak thunderstorm to- oh, come on, can you just share?” You huff and sit back against the pillow.

“I need more of the blanket. Logically.”

“Yeah, because you’re gigantic.”

“And you’re… so annoying,” he mutters, sliding an arm around your waist and pulling you onto his lap with ease and shifting so you’re situated between his legs. “Now can we watch the movie?” he asks, bringing the blanket up and wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

It takes everything you have to keep from smiling too widely, until you realise he can’t see your face so you give into it, feeling your cheeks get warm as you lean back into his chest.

“Better?”

“It’s alright.”

It’s better than alright. Jungkook’s warm, masculine cologne feels like a hug and his jaw resting against the side of your head makes your heart float. At one point, when you sweep your hair off your neck to bring it over your left shoulder because of the breeze, you feel him bend his neck and lightly kiss your tattoo.

“It’s my dog’s name,” you say after a moment. You don’t elaborate and he doesn’t ask, simply nodding and pressing another kiss to the same spot.

“Lia?” He murmurs your name into your hair a little while later and waits for you to nod in acknowledgement. “I know this wasn’t the date you were expecting. I really tried, though.”

Your heart feels like it could break and you feel that dangerous heaviness in your chest that you know can only mean you’re falling for him faster than you thought. You keep your cool, however.

“Kook.” You say his name like he said yours, saying it against his forearm. “I meant what I said. I did have a really great time. Ramen, beer, video games, Netflix… I mean, the drive-in thing sounded really cool, but this was kind of the perfect date.”

He buries his head in your neck. “You’re just saying that,” he says, voice muffled, but you can hear the smile in his voice. Lifting his head slightly, he kisses the spot under your ear, making goosebumps erupt on the back of your neck that have nothing to do with the wind. “I’m glad, though.” His arms loosen around you slightly and one of them accidentally brushes your breast, and it’s like a switch has been turned on.

“Only thing missing?” You turn around and spread your knees, straddling him. He looks mildly taken aback for a moment, hands coming to rest naturally on your hips, fingers firm on your demin-clad arse. “Dessert.”

You kiss the growing smile on his face, bringing your hands up to his face and into his hair, sighing when you feel his hands slide up your back confidently and pull you to him. It’s absolutely insane how attracted you are to him; his body is built like a tank. The first time you’d thought that was at the HYBE party you’d run into him as you both sneaked into the kitchen; now, enveloped in his arms and chest as he kisses you, his lips soft and firm on yours, you find yourself so turned on by that fact.

The blanket slides off your shoulders and falls to the ground as you shift even closer to him. “M-m, it’s okay,” you whisper when he tries to pick it back up.

Jungkook runs his hands up your bare arms, kissing you again before pulling away. “You’re freezing.”

“I’m shivering,” you correct him, tugging at the bottom of his shirt and slipping your hands underneath. He inhales sharply when your hands make contact with his skin and you want to dig your nails into his taut, muscled abdomen. “And it’s not because of the cold.”

Jungkook nods and dutifully goes back to kissing you, trailing his lips down to your jaw, your neck and down to your cleavage. Suddenly glad you’re wearing a low-cut top, you sit up straighter to give him better access, biting back a moan when he squeezes your breasts and slides down the sleeves of your top. Cringing slightly, you stop him. When he looks up with hooded eyes and swollen lips, you almost want to continue.

“Sorry… it is actually quite cold,” you admit, wincing. “Too cold for me to take my clothes off, anyway. Can we go inside?”

“Yeah, of course.” Without another word, you both get to your feet and your lips meet again, immediately. He backs you into the house and to the couch, one hand in your hair and the other sliding down your waist and grabbing your arse, where he sits down and swiftly pulls you back onto his lap.

Here, in the warmth and the dim lighting, the atmosphere changes and suddenly your hands are everywhere. You take off your top and Jungkook groans softly before coming back to your chest, kissing your ample flesh and burying his face in it before pulling down the cups of your bra and taking one nipple in his mouth without warning.

“Oh, fuck, Jungkook…” Your core aches deliciously and you grind against his pelvis to give yourself some much needed friction as you hold his head in place, feeling his tongue circle your tip before sucking on it. “Oh, God…”

He pulls away after a minute and you immediately tug on his t-shirt, pulling it over his head and leaving his entire torso on display. It’s not the first time you’ve seen him topless, but in the state you’re in, you find yourself wanting to run your tongue over every visible piece of skin. So, you do. Starting with his collarbone, to his pecs, to his sternum - you kiss it, bite the spots where his muscles flex, and each gasp from him only makes you want to fuck yourself on thigh right now.

You crawl off his lap eventually, at eye level with the waistband of his jeans. Looking up at him, you silently stand up and adjust your bra before taking off your jeans, leaving you in nothing but lingerie. “Like what you see?” you quip softly, getting back down on your knees between his legs.

Jungkook laughs shakily. “I always did. You’re beautiful.” He watches you with that same small smile while you unbutton his jeans and pull them down slightly, reaching up to palm his erection through his black boxer briefs. “Fuck,” he whispers, dropping his head on the back of the couch and pinching the bridge of his nose.

He’s so hot. Seeing him like this, half naked with his arousal clearer than ever, just for you, you squeeze your thighs together to control your heat, biting your lip when you feel how sticky they are. Shifting up slightly, you kiss the spot below his bellybutton, trailing your way down to the elastic of his briefs and gently tug them down along with his jeans. He lifts his hips off the couch right on cue and you bring his clothes down around his ankles, your toes curling when you finally see his erection, big, hard and dripping pre cum.

Jungkook watches you, his Adam’s apple bobbing, hands clutching the edge of the couch. Not breaking eye contact, you reach to wrap your fingers around him and give him a few strokes, watching in arousal and wonder as his expression morphs into one of ecstasy, brows furrowed and jawline sharp. Sitting forward, you finally take him in your mouth, pressing your thighs together once more when he gasps.

You suck him off sloppily, your tongue circling his tip while you lower your head to take him in further, as much as his size will allow. His hand comes up to your hair and you can tell he’s trying to be gentle as he clutches it, biting his lip as his moans get louder now. You suck in your cheeks and begin bobbing your head faster now and reach for his balls with your other hand, cupping them and making him gasp again.

“Lia, fuck -” He doesn’t get out a single word more, his hips bucking forward as he cums in your mouth. You feel the hot spurts and slow down until he’s done, gently letting him go and quietly swallowing, sitting back and brushing your hair off your neck as he recovers, panting with his hand covering his face. Feeling a mix of pride and arousal, you stand up and approach him, smiling as he pulls you back down on his lap by the hips.

“You’re amazing,” he breathes, kissing you a little messily on your lips. “I’m - I’m sorry I didn’t warn you before -”

“It’s alright,” you tell him, lowering your head to give him a deep kiss and moaning into his mouth when you feel his semi-erect cock brush your heat. “You’re so fucking hot, Jeon,” you mutter, biting his lower lip. “God, I need you.”

You barely realise you’ve said the last bit out loud when Jungkook nods and pulls away, patting your hip before hooking a hand around your knee and standing up, picking you up along with him. You wrap your arms around his neck instantly, snorting when he hitches you up to make it more comfortable.

“You said you needed me,” is all he says in explanation, taking you into what you presume is his bedroom and lowering you onto the bed so you land with a slight bounce on the mattress.

“Wow, this is really soft,” you comment, running your fingers along the bedsheet, momentarily diverted while Jungkook turns on the dim light from behind his bedside table and rummages around inside the drawer.

“Yeah? That’s good,” he mutters, climbing back onto the bottom of the bed and tugging on your legs so you slide down with a yelp. “You’re going to need to be comfortable.” Without another word, he pulls down your underwear and tosses it to the side, pressing two fingers lightly to your outer lips. “So wet,” he breathes, closing his eyes momentarily.

You believe him. The next thing you know, you feel his warm breath on the inside of your thigh, so close to your core that you could scream. He holds your legs open with one hand on each thigh and kisses the inside, making his way up slowly and agonizingly, until you hear another intake of breath and you know what he’s spotted.

“You have a tattoo all the way up here?” He presses his lips to the same spot again, lightly nipping at the skin before kissing it again. “That’s four. No wonder I didn’t see it on our first date.”

“What are third dates for, right?” you manage, sounding wrecked to your own ears before he’s even touched you.

Jungkook chuckles quietly, continuing his trail up your inner thigh until he finally reaches your core. “Thanks for saying yes to that, by the way,” he says softly before going straight for your clit and kissing it. He uses his lips the entire time, exploring every inch of your folds, as he pulls you even more to him.

“Jungkook, you - oh, my God, don’t - don’t stop, don’t -” You can’t even form full sentences as he continues assaulting your pussy, his lips and tongue making soft, wet sounds as he eats you out. You squirm and reach for his thick hair to grind your hips into his face, each movement making him groan and clutch your thighs harder. You were already so far gone before he started; you’re not sure you can keep this going much longer. Your moans get louder and faster until you feel an explosion, shuddering as you feel wave after wave of pleasure hit you as he slows down and kisses the inside of your thigh again, wiping his mouth on your skin.

You know the moment Jungkook crawls on top of you that this is only the first orgasm tonight; one side of his mouth tilts upward in a smirk, his hair dishevelled and his torso looking more muscular than ever. “Jungkook, that was -” You break off, still panting as he grins and kisses the side of your neck and strokes your hips lovingly, letting you come down from your high. “That was incredible.”

He simply nods, his expression holding everything from excitement to pride, with affection and full blown lust in there, too. He kisses you then and you respond eagerly, bringing his face down to yours and pressing your chest against his, wanting to feel every inch of him on your skin. You do; only a few seconds in, you feel his erection, now fully hard again, press against your pelvic bone and you moan, already aching again at the thought of him inside you this time.

As if reading your mind, Jungkook murmurs against your lips. “Sure you can take more?”

In the midst of everything, his question tugs at the right chord. “Oh, I can,” you tell him, reaching down between your bodies and wrapping your fingers around his cock again, chuckling when he exhales sharply. “Can you, though?”

“Relax, baby, we’re not keeping score,” he says, lips at your jaw and trailing lightly down your neck. Then, without warning, he sits up and flips you over, spanking your arse cheek loudly.

“Motherf-”

“Oh, wow.” Jungkook runs his thumb over a spot on your lower back. “There’s the fifth,” he says softly, bending to kiss it.

You groan, partly from the position you’re both in and partly from the new discovery. “That’s my least favourite one,” you admit, looking at him over your shoulder to see him shake his head.

“I love it.” Running a hand lovingly up your back and unhooking your bra so it falls open, he brings to fingers between your legs and reaches for your clit again, sighing in pleasure and you’re surprised at how wet you are again. “I want you so bad, Lia…”

“All yours,” you gasp, biting your lip at how incredible his fingers feel. At your words, Jungkook retrieves his fingers and you whine in annoyance. A moment later, you hear the condom wrapper tear and feel his hands on either side of your hips, lifting it up slightly before entering you in one stroke, making you gasp again and whimper when he pulls out almost all the way to slam into you again.

“God, you feel incredible,” he groans, picking up the pace of his thrusts and bottoming out each time. You can feel the bed shake under you despite how large and sturdy it is as you muffle your cries and whimpers into the pillow. You feel him bend and kiss your shoulder, his chest brushing your back. “I don’t have neighbours, baby,” he mutters into your ear, linking his fingers with yours as he presses you into the bed. “You can be as loud as you want.”

You take him at his word, every thrust fucking something else into you as his grunts grow louder and his pace increases. Just as you feel close, maybe thirty seconds away, he pulls out and turns you over onto your back. His neck and chest are glistening and you feel your own hair clammy and your chest sweaty, but you don’t care. If anything, if possible, he’s even sexier to you now.

“I’m so close, Kook,” you murmur desperately, pulling him down by the neck to kiss him. “Just fuck me already.”

Jungkook nods, looking dazed and aroused as hell. Kissing you again, longer and deeper this time, he pulls away and slowly enters you, stretching you out a whole different way. Both of you groan in unison and he drops his head onto your shoulder as he begins moving again, going back to his original speed within seconds. You throw your head back on the pillow as you feel the familiar sensation returning, the sound of his hips snapping against your reverberating through the room.

“M-more,” you whimper, losing all sense of vocabulary as he lifts your right leg and pushes it into your chest, continuing to pound into you. “Fuck, Jungkook, I’m so -” Before the words leave your mouth, you feel the second orgasm of the night hitting you and your muscles go slack, your heart beating a mile a minute as you ride it out.

“Wow,” he murmurs softly, kissing your cheek. “I think I’m falling for you,” he confesses against your skin.

All you can manage to do is squeeze his bicep to indicate you’ve heard him as he resumes his movements, this time immediately speeding up and eventually sitting up to increase his pace. He looks absolutely spectacular, and you see your hands move towards his torso before you feel them, feeling the hard muscle and damp skin underneath your fingers as he makes one last, hard thrust and groans throatily, falling forward and balancing on his hands.

For a few moments, neither of you move; you stay there in each other's arms, the sounds of your laboured breathing the only sound in the room. Eventually, he moves up to look at you, and silently, both of you meet in a sweet, passionate kiss.

He moves off of you then to dispose of the condom before climbing back into bed next to you and lying on his back, bringing you into his chest. For the first time since you met him, you let him lead, and tuck into him with your hand lightly placed on his sternum.

“You have some insane stamina, you know that?” you remark after a few seconds. You look up at him, heart fluttering when he kisses your forehead.

“I do some insane dance practice.” His fingers are light on your shoulder, ghosting over your skin. “So… overall, good third date?”

You burst out laughing, muffling it against his chest and feeling him shake underneath you. Lifting your head, you kiss his jaw. “Yes, Jeon. It was a good third date.”

Thank you for reading :) Drop me a review or comment/reblog/ask to tell me what you think!

Taglist: @bbl32, @ggukkieland, @bangtannoonalvg, @pb-n-juju, @juciu, @jeoncookie-bts, @kflixnet, @k-radio

#jungkook x oc #jungkook x lia #jungkook fanfiction #ficscafe #kpopsociety #thebtswritersclub #bangtanbathhouse #btsgoldnet #btsbingo2022 #bangtaninn #bangtanwhq #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts fluff

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applepi-1 · 3 years

Text

Walmart- mha

Going to Walmart with my hero academia. Based off a tik tok I seen lol. Hope you like.

Super short, sorry

It was more of someone teasing Bakugou about he's no fun. But boy never did you think when you got here he'd be having a Mario cart race with the electric scooters with Kirishima. Everyone watched in pure shock, our little Bakugou growing up. But hearing Deku scream drew our attention in.

"Is he...?" Before Todoroki got his question out, the woman immediately began to ask for a manager.

"He's arguing with a Walmart Karen." You informed him, he sighed and looked at Bakugou.

"Get out of my way, Extra!"

"Bakugou won." You nodded your head.

"That's not how it works!" You looked at Deku.

"He's been hanging out with Bakugou to much." Shoto nodded with Kaminari who had security holding him.

"What did you do?!"

"I streaked. Apparently not a good idea." You watched as he got carried off.

"Where is Mr. Aizawa?" You asked Todo.

"Alcohol." You face-palmed, what is with our class today?

"Iida?" He pointed to Iida racing Uraraka in mid air. "Okay... and Mina?" She was with the acid. "That makes since I guess. Her quirk is... Is she burning the acid... with acid?"

"Everyone's acting weird." You looked at Momo as she created a blanket.

"Where are you going?"

"Movie in the movie section." You tugged your lip between your teeth.

"Are we the only normal ones?" You looked at Shoto who was looking at everyone who were being chased by security.

"I think so..." After an hour most of them got caught and banded from Walmart. You sighed and looked at Momo.

"Where did you get the pigs?" She looked at you then Mina who was writing on them. "And why are you number them, 1, 2, 3,and 5. Where's four?"

"That's the point." You looked at Kirishima. "There isn't one, but they'll be looking for it." Once they let them loose and scattered You looked at Todo.

"Did they get hit with a quirk, or something?"

"I don't know. But... this is the most fun I seen Iida." You watched as he used his quirk to escape the security.

"True. Want to go watch a movie in the movie section?"

"Sure." Once y'all settled down with our friends running and screaming behind us, Deku managed to get kicked out for yelling dumbass. He's definitely been hanging out with Bakugou. You snuggled into your boyfriend as you watched the movie. About an hour later you looked down at your phone sighing.

"They left us, didn't they?"

"Call All Mi- Actually we can walk." You nodded you head agreeing to that as you got up and left.

"It was pretty fun."

"Yeah, except the walking home part." You laughed a little you squeezed his hand and nuzzled closer to him. "But you're here, so I'm not complaining."

"I had fun being forgotten with you." He nodded his head kissing yours lightly.

467 words

#class 1a #bakugou katsuki #todoroki x reader #iida tenya #bnha ochaco uraraka #momo yaoyorozu #myoui mina #denki kaminari #kirishima ejirou #deku #izuku mydoria #aizawa shouta #walmart #walmart karin #karen #quirks #my hero academia #mha #bhna

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melisa-may-taylor72 · 3 years

Photo

QUEEN BEFORE QUEEN

THE 1960s RECORDINGS

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

PART 4:

THE OPPOSITION

JOHN DEACON WAS THE QUIETEST MEMBER OF A MIDLAND-BASED FIVE-PIECE WHOSE GREATEST AMBITION WAS TO PLAY ANOTHER GIG.

Initial research John S. Stuart. Additional research and text: Andy Davis.

John Deacon was the fourth and final member to join Queen. He became part of that regal household 25 years ago this month, enrolling as the band’s permanent bassist in February 1971. His acceptance marked the culmination of a six-year ‘career’ in music, much of which he spent in an amateur, Leicestershire covers band called the Opposition.

From 1965 until 1969, Deacon and his schoolmates ploughed a humble, local furrow in and around their Midlands hometown, reflecting the decade’s mercurial moodswing with a series of names, images and styles of music. The most remarkable fact about the Opposition was just how unremarkable the group actually was.

Collectively, they were an unambitious crew: undertaking precisely no trips down to London to woo A&R men; winning only one notable support slot for the army of chart bands who visited Leicester in the ‘60s (opening for Reperata & the Delrons in Melton Mowbray in 1968); and managing even to miss out on the option of sending a demo tape to any of the nation’s record labels. The band’s saving grace is its solé recorded legacy: a three-track acetate — although even this was done for purely private consumption, and has rarely been aired outside the confines of their inner circle.

It is perhaps indicative of the Opposition’s modest outlook that their most promising bid for stardom, a beat contest, was called off before they had the chance to play in the finals. For John Deacon and friends, it seems, merely being in a band was reward enough.

Considering of all of this, it’s easy to imagine the response to the following story, related in the ‘60s to one of the Opposition’s guitarists, Ronald Chester:...[ ]

...[ ] “There was a teacher who worked at Beauchamp School, which John attended, who told fortunes. They went to see her one Saturday and were told, ‘John Deacon is going to be world famous and very, very rich. Of course, they all fell about laughing. She was determined that this was going to happen. But they all thought it was a joke."

What particularly amused Deacon’s colleagues was the unlikeliness of this scenario, given the plain facts of his demeanour. John was born in Leicester in 1951, the product of affluent, middle-class, middle England. As a youngster, he was known to his friends as ‘Deaks’ and grew up to be quiet and reserved, what Mark Hodkinson referred to in ‘Queen — ‘The Early Years’ as “a ghost of a boy".

“He is basically shy,” confirms Richard Young, the Opposition’s first guitarist/vocalist, and later keyboardist. “I suppose he was quieter than the rest of us — but he was fairly static with Queen if you look at him on stage.”

Ron Chester agrees: “John was quiet by nature. His sister, Julie, was the same. Once he got going, though, he wasn’t any different from anybody else. But on first approach, you really had to coax him out of his shell. We’d have to pick him up. He couldn’t walk down the road to meet us."

CONFIDENT

Despite any lack of personal dynamics, Deacon was a capable teenager: “He was very confident," recalls another of the band’s guitarists, David Williams. “But in a laidback sort of way. He didn’t have a problem with anything. ‘Yeah, I can do that’, he’d say. We used to call him ‘Easy Deacon’, not because of any sexual preferences, but because he’d say something was easy without it sounding big-headed. I remember saying to him once, I’m going to have to knock off the gigs a bit to revise for my ‘A’ levels. What about you?’ ‘No’, he said, ‘I don’t need to. I’ve never failed an exam yet, and I’ve never revised for one’. Ultimately, he was just confident, with a phenomenally logical mind. If he couldn’t remember something, he could work it out. And, of course, he got stunning results.”

John’s earliest interest was electronics, which he studied into adulthood. He also went fishing, trainspotting even, with his father. Then music took over. After dispensing with a ‘Tommy Steele’ toy guitar, John used the proceeds from his paper round to buy his first proper instrument, an acoustic, when he was about twelve. An early musical collaborator was a school mate called Roger Ogden, who like Roger Taylor down in Cornwall, was nicknamed ‘Splodge’. But his best friend was the Opposition’s future drummer, Nigel Bullen.

“I’d first got to know John at Langmore Junior School in Oadby, just outside Leicester, in either 1957 or 1958,’' recalls Nigel. “We were both the quiet ones. We started playing music together at Gartree High School, when we were about thirteen. We were inspired by the Beatles — they made everybody want to be in a group. John was originally going to be the band’s electrician, as he called it. He used to build his own radios, before we had any amps, and he fathomed a way of plugging his guitar into his reel-to-reel tape recorder. He was always the electrical boffin."

The prime mover in the formation of the group was another Oadby boy they met on nearby Uplands Park, Richard Young. “Richard was at boarding school," recalls Nigel Bullen. “He was always the kid with the expensive bike. He played guitar, and what’s more had a proper electric, with an amplifier. He instigated getting the band together. Initially, we rehearsed in my garage, and then anywhere we could. John played rhythm to begin with. He was a chord man, the John Lennon of the group, if you like."

SWITCH

Despite his later switch to the bass, Deacon’s technique on the guitar also developed, as Dave Williams reveals: “Later on, I remember he could play ‘Classical Gas’ on an acoustic, which was a finger-picking execise and no mean feat. It’s a bit like ‘McArthur Park’, a fantastic piece of music, and when I heard it, I thought, ‘Bloody hell. You dark horse!’ Because he never showed off."

The Opposition’s first bassist was another school friend of John’s called Clive Castledine. In fact, the group made its debut at a party at Castledine’s ouse on 25th September, 1965 (their first public performance took place the...[ ]

...[ ] following month at Gartree’s school hall). Clive looked good and appreciated the kudos of being in a group, but he wasn’t up to even the Opposition’s schoolboy standards. “I was the least proficient, to put it mildly,” he admitted to Mark Hodkinson.“His enthusiasm was 100%,” adds Richard Young, “but his actual playing ability was null, so we had a meeting and got rid of him.” Deacon took over, initially playing on his regular guitar, using the bottom strings. “John was good,” Young continues. “It was no problem for him to switch to bass. He hit the right notes at the beginning of the bar, and we were a better band for it. Whereas Clive made us sound woolly, as anyone who just plonked away on any old note would, John was solid.”

DIARY

Young turned out to be the Opposition’s archivist, keeping a diary of each gig played, the equipment used, and the amounts of money earned (as indeed did John Deacon). Richard’s diary documented the day Deacon — now, of course, bassist in one of the world’s most famous groups — first picked up his chosen instrument. “In an entry for 2nd April, 1966,” says Young, “it reads, ‘We threw Clive out on the Saturday afternoon. Had a practice in Deaks’ kitchen, and Deaks went on bass. Played much better.’ John didn’t have a bass, so we went down to Cox’s music shop in King Street in Leicester, and bought him an EKO bass for £60. I paid for it, but I think he paid me back eventually.”

“John’s bass style with the Opposition was the same as with Queen,” reckons Nigel Bullen. “He never used to play with a plectrum, which was unusual, but with his fingers, which meant that his right hand is drooped over the top of the guitar. Also, he plays in an upward fashion, which I’d never seen before, certainly when we were in Leicester. Over the years, I’ve watched many bass players adopt that style. I’d say he has been copied a lot. I’ve mentioned this to him, but he doesn’t agree.”

Clive Castledine wasn’t the last member of the band to be dismissed. “The vocal and lead guitar side of the Opposition was changing all the while,” recalls Nigel. “Myself, John, and Richard Young were always there — as were Dave Williams and Ron Chester later on — but we had a succession of other musicians who I can hardly remember now. There was a guy called Richard Frew in the very early days, and a young lad called Carl, but he didn’t fit in. After we began playing proper gigs, Richard decided he wasn’t happy with his singing and wanted to move onto keyboards, so we brought in Pete Bart (formerly with another local band, the Rapids Rave) as a guitarist and vocalist. He was good, but again, didn’t last long.”

“Bart was a bit of a rocker, while we were all mods,” remarks Dave Williams. “We were impressed by mod bands like the Small Faces and the original Who. Bart seemed to come from a different era altogether.”

“Deaks had the Parka with the fur collar,” remembers Ron Chester. “And short hair, a crew cut. Mirrors on his scooter.” Richard Young agrees: “John was more of a mod than us. But you couldn’t really pigeonhole the band, because our music went right across the board”.

”Buying Deacon his bass was no one-off, and Richard Young is remembered as the group’s benefactor. Being older than the others, he had a steady job working for his father’s electronics company in Leicester, which brought him a regular, and by all accounts, generous wage. He rarely thought twice before splashing out on equipment for the other members.

RECEIPTS

“Richard bought me a P.A.,” recalls David Williams. “But he didn’t ask, he used to think that the group needed it. He’d buy it and then say, ‘You owe me this’. My mum used to get really annoyed. She’d was at that going- through-my-pockets stage, probably looking for contraceptives. She once found a receipt from Moore and Stanworth’s, a local music shop. It was for a Beyer microphone, which cost about £30. I was still at school, getting pocket money, and my mum said, ‘What on earth is this?!’ Receipts on the Sunday dinner table, that sort of thing. It was good, though. The group needed it.”

“I was dead serious about the band,” claims Young, who switched to organ with the arrival of Williams in July 1966. “Perhaps more so than anybody else. I could see it going nowhere if money wasn’t pumped into it.”

“Dick Young was an accomplished organ player,” adds Dave, “and he improved the group quite a lot. He always had plenty of dosh, and a car. But he was totally mad, a crazy bloke. He’d come round with an organ one week, then next week, he’d have a better one. He ended up with a Farfisa, with one keyboard on it, then one with two keyboards — one above the other. Then he had a Hammond, an L 100. which was really heavy. Then he had a ‘B’ series one. The ‘L’ was top-of-the-range and he sawed it in half to make it easier to carry!”

Dave Williams helped to improve the group as well. “He was at school with us,” says Nigel Bullen, “but in another band, who we always looked up to.” That band was the Leeds-based Outer Limits (who went on to issue several singles — without Dave — in the late ‘60s). “I joined the Opposition after they asked me to watch them and tell them what I thought,” recounts Dave. “The Outer Limits were older lads, all mods, but I was after something a bit more easy going, and the Opposition were my own age. They were okay, but I first saw them at John’s house, when they were still practising in bedrooms, and they were absolutely awful. I said, ‘Have you thought of tuning up?’ They said they had. But it sounded like they were playing in different keys — totally horrendous. It was so funny. They were so conscientious, they’d all learned their bits, but hadn't tuned up to each other. That was my first tip.”

“Our first proper gig was supporting a local band, the Rapids Rave, at Enderby Coop Hall,” recalls Nigel Bullen. “They used to play at this village hall every week. and then we ended up doing it every week for quite some time.” Richard’s diary records the Opposition’s debut taking place on 4th December 1965, and that the band’s fee was £2. Thereafter, they began to offer their Services in the local ‘Oadby & Wigston Advertiser’, which led to bookings in youth clubs and village halls in local hot-spots like Kibworth, Houghton-on- the-Hill, Thurlaston and Great Glen.

SCHOOL WORK

By spring 1966, the Opposition were playing every weekend, school work permitting. The peaks and troughs of their career are illustrated by the following memorable gigs: one at St. George’s Ballroom, Hinckley, on 23rd June 1967, when just two people turned up and the band went home after a couple of numbers; and a September appearance in a series of shows at U.S. Airforce Bases in the Midlands, at which they were required to play for four-and-half hours with just two twenty-minute breaks. It was nothing if not diverse.

“It didn’t seem to matter what you played,” says Dave. “People would clap simply because you were making music. They never said, ‘Do you do Motown, or soul stuff?’ ” The band’s repertoire initially consisted of chart sounds and the poppier end of the R&B spectrum. “Although we were inspired by the Beatles, we never did any of their songs,” claims Nigel. “But we covered the Kinks, the Yardbirds, and things like Them’s ‘Gloria’, and the Zombies’ ‘She’s Not There’.

They also altered their name slightly to the New Opposition, which they unveiled at the Enderby Coop Hall. “The name-change was decided overnight, when John moved from rhythm to bass guitar,” recounts Richard, whose diary records the date of the transition as 29th April 1966. Interestingly, though, it makes no mention of another local group also called the Opposition, long thought to have been the reason for Deacon’s crew adopting the ‘New’. The change did act as an impetus for further development, however, instigated by Dave Williams, who soon took over as the group’s lead vocalist.

“When I joined they were doing all Beach Boys stuff,” he recalls, “and I think I may have brought in a little credibility. In the Outer Limits, I’d been playing John Mayall, the Yardbirds, that sort of thing, plus that group was into really good soul like the Impressions, and fantastic vocal bands from the States. So I had a broad musical knowledge by then, whereas the Opposition had been a bit poppy.” Appropriately, the words “Tamla” and “Soul” were now added to the Opposition’s ads and calling cards.

Towards the end of 1966, the New Opposition were enhanced further by the arrival of Ron Chester, who’d previously played with Dave Williams in the Outer Limits, as well as in an earlier band, the Deerstalkers. “Ron Chester was a bit eccentric,” claims Richard Young. “He never used to go anywhere without his deerstalker. He was a really good guitarist (“stunning”, adds Dave Williams). We were probably at our best when Ron was in the band.”

On 23rd October 1966, the New Opposition entered the local Midland Beat Contest. They won their heat, landing themselves a place in the semifinals on 29th January 1967. They won this, too, and steeled themselves for the finals, which were due to be held on 3rd March 1967, when they were to be pitched against...[ ]

...[ ] an act called Keny. The stars of the show would have been the nearest the Opposition came to having a rival: an outfit called Legay. (A year later, incidentally, this band issued a now collectable single, “No One” (Fontana TF 904,£80J.) Unfortunately, for all concerned, however, the contest never took place. “That was a fiasco,'' laughs Ron. “Somehow we won those heats, but in fact, I don’t remember seeing anybody else playing. I don’t know whether we won by default or not. After that, they pulled the plug on the competition — probably because they knew we’d be playing again!”.

CASINO

“The heats took place in a club in Leicester called the Casino, which was the place to play,” adds Nigel. “The guy who ran the competition was an agent for the club. His company was called Penguin (or P.S) Promotions and he walked like a penguin too, with his feet sticking out. The final was going to be held in the De Montford Hall, which is still the main venue in Leicester. We thought, ‘Crumbs, this is it, perhaps we might make the big time.’ But the guy did a runner with all the money — people had to pay to come to the heats. So the final was called off.”

David Williams wasn’t too fussed, as he scored another prize that night: “I remember taking a girl back to Dick’s car on the strength of us winning our heat. I said, ‘Can I borrow your keys, Dick? He said, ‘What for? You can’t drive!’ “

Were the New Opposition — or the Opposition, as they dropped the ‘New’ again in early 1967 — left in limbo by the cancellation of the Beat Contest? Having achieved the most public recognition of their talents so far, were they disappointed with the loss of the chance to prove themselves further?

“No. It was almost insignificant,” reckons Ron. “We didn’t really look upon it as a stairway to stardom.” And what would John Deacon have thought? “Nothing really,” suggests Chester. “ ‘It’s cancelled. What are we doing next, then?’ That would have been about the depth of it. We were a village band, all gathering at the church hall to try and improve our abilities. The financial aspect of it wasn’t in the forefront of our minds. We were more concerned with our music, and if we could get a booking doing it as well, to pay off some of the equipment, then that was a real bonus. Three bookings a week was enough for us while we were working or still at school.” Despite any dodgy dealings, history does have the Penguin promoter to thank for the only professionally-taken photograph of the Opposition. (“We didn’t go much on photos in the band,” remembers Dave Williams.) On Tuesday, 31st January 1967, two days after winning the semi-finals, the ‘Leicester Mercury’ dispatched a staff photographer over to Richard Young’s parents’ house in Oadby. Here, the group lined-up in the front room, looking more like refugees from 1964, rather than 1967. The only indications of the actual date are perhaps Ron Chester’s deerstalker hat and the ridiculous length of David Williams’ shirt collars — seven inches, no less, from neck to nipple.

“Dave was very extrovert,” recalls Nigel. “But we all had those silk shirts with the great long collars made by our mums and grandmas for our stage gear.” Dave admits: “Our clothes were all a bit mixed up. We had silk shirts with tweed jackets — which were fashionable for a while — and bell-bottoms. Musically, we were pretty good, better than...[ ]

...[ ] most of the local bands around that time, but we had this squeaky-clean, schoolboy image which let us down. I used to get frustrated when we were billed with other bands, and they’d all play with so many wrong chords but had a better image and still the punters applauded. Were they stupid? We were still at school — we didn’t leave until we were eighteen — and weren’t allowed to grow our hair long”.

“After the mod thing,” he continues, “long hair became really important. Bands were growing their hair right down their backs. I remember getting to one gig with John and Nigel a year or so later, and the other group were already on. And when they saw us they turned round and said, ‘Look! They’ve got no hair!’. We were quite upset about that”.

“We also went through the flower-power look,” Dave adds. “And then we got into those little jumpers without any sleeves that Paul McCartney used to wear, the ones so small that half your stomach showed. And then it was grandad shirts without the collars and flares.” Ron Chester: “The flowery shirts and flared trousers were everywhere. We looked like a right shower of poofters. But so did everybody else. You stood out if you didn’t wear them.”

1967 also heralded the arrival of an additional attraction to the Opposition’s stage show: two go-go dancers. At least, it did if the existing literature on the subject is to be believed. “I vaguely remember it,” admits Richard, “but speaking to Nig, neither of us can recal who those dancers were”.

Dave Williams throws some light on the subject: “They were the jet-set girls of the sixth form, they came from the big houses. They came to a couple of gigs and just started dancing. Somebody who booked us for the following week actually advertised us ‘with go-go girls’. But they were never really part of the show.”

ART

On 16th March, 1968 for a gig at Gartree School, the Opposition changed their name once again. “We called ourselves Art,” reveals Nigel, “because Dave was arty, that is, he was training as an artist. It was as simple as that.” Dave agrees: “It was my idea, because I’d been doing art at school.” Nigel Bullen was aware of another band using that name around the same time (the pre-Spooky Tooth outfit), but assuming them to be American, reckoned they’d be no confusion. As the Leicester-based Art never made it to London, there wasn’t.

Despite wording like “A time to touch and feel, to taste and experience, to hear and understand” appearing on the group’s tickets, Richard maintains that Art was “just the same band” as before. “Nothing changed."

“It was mutton dressed up as lamb, really,” admits Ron Chester. “We thought if we were called something different, people might come because they were curious. But it didn’t make a lot of difference. The audiences were captive at the places we played anyway. There was nowhere else to go on a Friday or Saturday night. Everyone used to roll up to see whoever was on, whether they’d heard of them or not.”

1968 was the year psychedelia caught up with many provincial British bands. The Art were no different, but their acknowledgement of what had been last year’s scene in London was via sight rather than sound. Their light shows seem to have been particularly memorable, as Dave Williams explains: “They were brilliant. We used the projectors from school, filled medicine bottles with water and oil, and projected through them to get this lovely golden, amber backdrop. As the image came out upside down, when we poured in some Fairy Liquid, it dropped straight through in a blob, but came out on the wall like a giant green mushroom cloud. It was amazing, and we had about four of them at the back, projecting over the band.”

John Deacon was party to another of Dave’s exploits. “One day,” recalls Williams, “John and I bought a 100-watt P.A. — which was pretty big for those days — and took it into the lecture theatre full of kids at Beauchamp School (which Deacon had attended since September 1966) for our version of Arthur Brown’s ‘Fire’. We cranked it up as loud as we could, put the light show on, and let off these smoke bombs, which were DDT pellets we’d got from the chemist. All the kids started choking, and then the headmaster walked in...[ ]

...[ ] with a load of governors. You could see the fury in his face. One of the governors asked what we were doing. ‘It’s a demonstration in sound and light, sir,’ I said. ‘We’re using these ink bottles turned upside down, but we’re a bit worried about these DDT pellets so we might knock the smoke on the head, but we’re still experimenting.’ And he fell for it!”.

INFLUENTIAL

Towards the end of 1968, a crop of new groups began to have a profound effect on the maturing schoolboys: Jethro Tull, the Nice, Taste, and in particular Deep Purple. Ron: “We used to buy Purple records and learn to play them. We’d seen John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers and the Downliners’ Sect in Leicester, the Nice, King Crimson. These sort of groups. We learned a lot from just watching them. They were influential. There was always a big discussion in the band as to whether we should do a particular song. Once we’d decided that, there’d be another big discussion as to how we should do it. Everybody had their say.”

Hair, too, had finally began to grow: “John grew his quite long,” recalls Ron. “We all had longish hair, but not shoulder length. We couldn’t look too unkempt for the normal side of life, but we didn’t want to be too prissy for the other end of the spectrum. That was when we started playing universities, and we went a bit heavier. The audiences were far more serious minded about music and more enthusiastic. In some of the youth clubs we’d been playing, the audience would be moving around on roller skates, or peeling bananas all over the place, things like that”.

“We felt we were making an impression towards the last year or two of the band,” he continues. But it went no further: “We were at school, some of us had jobs, and there was an element of common sense overriding what we would have liked to have done. None of us wanted to chuck in our apprenticeships or courses. If we’d had a flair for writing our own material, we might have taken off. But we just played what was popular, nothing different from most other groups. That wasn’t a basis on which to launch ourselves. So it never happened."

“We didn’t think that far ahead,” admits Richard Young. “I just thought of playing and getting repeat bookings. John was probably the least ambitious of all of us, to be honest. I think he felt that there was no mileage in what we were doing, although it was good fun. I think he had the impression that this was a hobby, a phase he was going through.”

Sometime in the Sixties, possibly 1969, but maybe earlier, Art recorded an acetate. Whatever the date, the crucial point is that John Deacon was present at the session. ��We weren't asked to do it,” recalls Nigel. “We just wanted to make a disc. I think it cost us about five shillings.”

The venue was Beck’s studio, thirty miles south east of Oadby in Wellingborough, Northamptonshire. “I’d never been in a studio before and it seemed awesome, really,” recalls Dave Williams. “It was a fairly decent-sized room for acoustics. It was all nicely low-lit, with lots of screens. The guy knew what he was doing.” Richard Young was less impressed, though: I’ve been in studios all my life,” he says. “That was just another session. Nothing about it stood out.”

The “guy” Dave remembered was engineer Derek Tomkins, who informed the group that they could record three tracks in the time allotted. “We’d only gone in there with two, ‘Sunny’ and ‘Vehicle’,” says Nigel, “and we didn’t want to waste the opportunity, so Richard knocked up a little instrumental called Transit 3’ — named after our new van, the third one — right there in the studio. Although we were purely a covers band, everybody had a bash at writing, but we never did anything of our own on stage. The exception was Transit 3’, which was incorporated into the set after this session.”

“ Transit 3’ was about about the only track we ever wrote," reckons Richard Young (“Heart Full Of Soul”, as reported in ‘As It Began’, is in fact a Graham Gouldman nurnber). “I initially had the idea, but I can’t really remember anything about it. It’s very basic. It wouldn’t take a great deal of effort to write something like that.” To the objective observer, “Transit 3”, taped in mono but well recorded, is a fairly uncomplicated, organ-led scale- hopper, reminiscent of Booker T & the MGs.

“Everybody was listening to ‘Green Onions’,” confirms Nigel, “so Booker T would have been an influence there.” But for all that, it’s well- played, with memorable lead and twangy, wah-wah guitar passages courtesy of Dave Williams. And, crucially, John Deacon’s thumping bass is plainly audible throughout. On this evidence, the Opposition were clearly a tight, confident outfit. “Transit 3” could have been incorporated into any swinging ‘60s film soundtrack, and no one would have jumped up shouting, “Amateurs”!.

UNFAMILIAR

The other two tracks, covers of Bobby Hebb’s ‘Sunny' and the more obscure, soul- tinged ‘Vehicle’ (later a hit for the Ides of March), featured a vocalist, but an unfamiliar one: another of the Opposition’s fleeting frontmen. “We had a singer for a while called Alan Brown,” recalls Nigel. “He came and went fairly quickly. He was good, really good. Too good for us, I think. That wasn’t him saying that. We just knew it.”

On both songs, Brown is in deep, soulful voice, sounding not unlike a cross between Tom Jones and the early Van Morrison — if such an amalgam can be imagined. The Art’s reading of “Vehicle” is edgy and robust, dominated by Richard Young’s distinctive keyboards and Nigel Bullen’s bustling drum work. Dave Williams is again in fine form, delivering more sparkling wah-wah guitar, while on the cassette copy taped from Nigel Bullen’s acetate, at least, John’s bass is very prominent, over-recorded in fact, booming in the mix.

“Sunny” goes one better, breaking into jazzy 3/4 time halfway through, before slotting back into the more traditional 4/4. It’s an imaginative arrangement, with alternate soloing from both Dave and Richard, while the whole track is underpinned by swirls of Hammond organ and John Deacon’s pounding bass.

“We did ‘Sunny’ as part of our stage set,” says Nigel, “but I don’t recall us ever going into the jazzy bit. That’s quite interesting. We might have talked about that before we went into the studio, but I think it was just for this session. Dave had two guitars, a six-string and a twelve-string, or it could even have been twin-necked. I still quite like the wah-wah he played on that track. By this time Richard would have been onto his second or third organ — he was heavily into Hammonds and Leslies."

Operating as they did in a fairly ambition- free zone, and having prepared the listener for a mundane set of recordings with their trademark laid-back approach, Art’s acetate comes as something of a revelation. Let any bunch of today’s schoolboys loose in a studio for an afternoon and defy them to come up with something half as good!

Just two copies of the Art disc are known to have survived. John Deacon’s mother is believed to own one and Nigel Bullen has the other. “I’d forgotten all about this record,” admits Nigel. “We know that one copy was converted to an ashtray!. We stubbed out cigarettes on Richards at rehearsal one night.” Although treated with anything but respect at the time, the importance of the disc is now apparent to Nigel Bullen: “This is probably John Deacon’s first recording, apart from tracks he did in his bedroom on his reel-to-...[ ]

...[ ] reel, which are probably long gone. Although, knowing John, they’re probably not!”

The beginning of the end for Art came in June 1969, when John Deacon left Beauchamp. With a college course lined up in London, his days with the band were obviously numbered. He played his final gig with the group on 29th August at a familiar venue, Great Glen Youth and Sports Centre Club. By October, he’d moved to London to study electronics at Chelsea College of Technology, part of the University of London.

Another blow was dealt in November, when the band's lynchpin, Richard Young, left to join popular local musician Steve Fearn in Fearn’s Brass Foundry.

“They were a Blood, Sweat and Tears-type of group,” recalls Richard, “and paid better money than I’d been used to. I was out five nights a week, on about £3 per night, against an average of about £10 between us.” The previous year, Richard had played session keyboards on the Foundry’s two Decca singles: “Don’t Change It” (F 12721, January 1968, £10) and “Now I Taste The Tears” (F 12835. September 1968, £8).

SAVAGE

Ron Chester departed shortly afterwards, and gave up music: “I left in the early 70s, after John Deacon moved to London. John was replaced by a bass player was called John Savage, who unsettled me. He had different tastes and drove us a bit hard. His approach was totally different from Deaks's, and he was much more interested in the financial side of things. We’d all been mates before, we didn't just knock about for the band. It just wasn’t the same.”

Nigel, Richard and Dave pushed on into 1970 with the new bassist, changing the band’s name again, this time to Silky Way. They returned to Beck’s studio to record a cover of Free’s “Loosen Up” with another vocalist, Bill Gardener, but that was the band’s last effort. Dave left after falling into Nigel’s drumkit, drunk on stage at a private party one Christmas. “I waited for them to pick me up the next day,” he recalls sheepishly, “but they never carne.”

Richard and Nigel moved into a dinner- dance type outfit called the Lady Jane Trio — “Corny, or what!”, laughs Bullen — but Nigel left music altogether soon afterwards to concentrate on his college work. Richard turned professional, moving into cabaret with the Steve Fearn-less Brass Foundry, before forming a trio called Rio, finding regular work on the holiday camp and overseas cruise circuit. In the late ‘70s, he joined a touring version of the Love Affair.

Down in London, John Deacon caught a glimpse of his future world-beating musical partners as early as October 1970, when he saw the newly-formed Queen perform at College of Estate Management in Kensington. “They were all dressed in black, and the lights were very dim too,” he told Jim Jenkins and Jacky Gunn in ‘As It Began’, “All I could really see were four shadowy figures. They didn’t make a lasting impression on me at the time.”

While renting rooms in Queensgate, John formed a loose R&B quartet with a flatmate, guitarist Peter Stoddart, one Don Cater on drums and another guitarist remembered only as Albert. The new band was hardlv a great leap forward from Art: they wrote no originals, and when asked to perform their only gig at Chelsea College on 21st November 1970, supporting Hardin & York and the Idle Race, they hastily billed themselves — in a rare fit of self-publicity for the quiet Oadby boy — as Deacon.

A few months later in early 1971, John was introduced to Brian May and Roger Taylor by a mutual friend, Christine Farnell, at a disco at Maria Assumpta Teacher Training College. They were looking for a bassist. John auditioned at Imperial College shortly afterwards. Roger Taylor recalled Queen’s initial reaction to Deacon in ‘As It Began’: “We thought he was great. We were so used to each other, and so over the top, we thought that because he was quiet he would fit in with us without too much upheaval. He was a great bass player, too — and the fact that he was a wizard with electronics was definitely a deciding factor!”

How did the members of the Art/Opposition back in Leicester, view John’s success with Queen? “It wasn’t sudden”, says Ron Chester. “First we heard he’d got into another group. We couldn’t believe that — were they deaf? There were all these sort of jokes going along. Then we heard he’d got a recording contract and the next thing he had a record out. It was a gradual progression. No one dreamed he would end up the way he did.”

“I don’t think we expected success for any of us" admits Nigel Bullen. “Richard maybe. He was the first one to go professional. But when John left for London to go to college, he left all his kit here. I thought that was the end of it for him. He had absolutely no intention of continuing. His college course was No.1. It was only after he kept seeing adverts for bass players in the ‘Melody Maker’ that he became interested again.”

He also seemed to lose some of that ‘Easy Deacon’ touch which so impressed Dave Williams in the ‘60s. “He’d ring up these bands,” continues Nigel, “but when he found they were a name act, he bottle out. When he went to auditions for anonymous bands, where he would queue up with about thirty other bass players, he had a bit of confidence. He just wanted to play in a decent band. Once I heard what Queen had recorded at De Lane Lea, and John played me the demo of their first album, I thought they were well set.”

CABARET

By early 1973, Dave Williams had forsaken a career in animation to join Highly Likely, a cabaret outfit put together by Mike Hugg and producer Dave Hadfield on the back of their minor hit, “Whatever Happened To You (The Likely Lads Theme)”. While Dave was in the band, they recorded a follow-up single which wasn’t released, before evolving into a glam rock outfit, Razzle, which later become the Ritz, who issued a few singles. “During Queen’s early days, before they’d had any real success, John came to see us once,” recalls Dave, “and said, ‘I wish I was in a band like this which could actually play some gigs’.” Dave concludes: “I remember John coming round once around that time, saying I’ve got a demo’. ‘So have I!’, I said. So we put his on first, and the first track was ‘Keep Yourself Alive’. My mouth dropped wide open and I thought. ‘Bloody hell! What a great track’. I remember saying that the guitarist was as good as Ritchie Blackmore — who was still our hero then — and thinking ‘They’re serious about this. This is the real thing’.”

RECORD COLLECTOR Nº 198 FEBRUARY 1996

⬅PREVIOUS: SMILE

https://melisa-may-taylor72.tumblr.com/post/639672109315014656/queen-before-queen-the-1960s-recordings

➡NEXT: IBEX, WRECKAGE & SOUR MILK SEA

@natromanxoff, @mephisto92, @moviestorian, @x5vale, @39-brian, @onegoldenglance, @crosmopolitan, @an-abyss-called-life, @his-majesty-king-mercury, @i-live-for-queen, @brian-39-may, @toomuchlove-willkillyou, @brimaymay, @sail-away-sweet-sister, @drummerqueenrmt, @old-fashioned-roger-boy, @briianmaay, @inui-mycroft, @deacytits, @iminlovewithrogscar, @drowseoftaylor, @brianmayislongaway, @balticlover, @astrophysicist-guitar-god, @miez-lakatz, @brianmayoucease, @jesus-in-a-life-boat, @aslongasthereismusic, @roger-taylors-car, @silapril, @sherrifanciesfriskyfreddie, @tenderbri, @brianmydear, @thosequeenboys, @millionairewaltz-carpediem, @painandpleasure86, @bribrifrenchfry, @xlucylennonx, @a-night-at-the-abbey-road, @inthedayswhenlandswerefew, @madformeddowstaylor, @queenrogertaylorfan, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @queen-for-life, @rethought, @drivenbybrianmay @mymakeupmaybeflaking, @old-but-still-a-child, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @warriorteam1924, @funnydressesweirdhairanddance, @painkiller80, @thefanhuman13, @yourtieddownmother, @hgmercury39, @brimi-stardust, @thefairyfellermercury, @retroromantics, @sailawaysweetbrimi, @sophiaintheskywithdiamonds, @holybrianmaywritingbear, @lydiannode, @39-yellow-daffodils , @ure-gonna-loveme-when-u-seeme, @kaykaybeachgirl, @foxmonkey, @deakysgurl, @redspecialandclogsandcurls, @briansrainbowsocks-deactivated2, @delilahmay39, @ohmybribri, @bless-the-queen, @everythingaboutfreddie, @doitforthevine67, @recordsoftheseventies, @rhysjoejoshtomfarisblog, @tenementfunsterwithpurpleshoes, @drummah-in-a-rocknroll-band, @beatlegirl1968, @maylorsqueen, @autumnscenemcyt, @gralto, @alittlepeoplemagic, @rainbowsockbrian, @frejudy, @drivenbybri, @yourlocalmusicalprostitute, @saik-ava, @omb-xx, @sassymaylor, @somekindofroger, @starlightmay, @freddiemercuryismylife, @sunshine112, @chrysochromulina, @glitteryloveravenue, @deakyislife51, @0-primejive-0, @just-a-skinny-lad, @bluewillowmom, @sassiesillie, @stesichoreanpalinode, @farrokhbulsaramercury, @tayloredofqueen, @rushingheadlong, @izzy-is-slightly-mad, @scandalacious, @0-my-fairy-queen-0 @39-volunteers-to-space@zodiacaldust, @deakytaylor, @queenband70s, @deakyeveryday, @drivenbybrimay @70smay

#Queen Before Queen #Pre-Queen Series #John Deacon #The Opposition #🎤🎵🎸👑⭐

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writerofblocks · 3 years

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*sneaks this in* Bridget/Troy - things you said with no space between us (or) things you didn’t say at all

This was. From a long ass time ago. BUT ITS FINISHED NOW SO IM POSTING IT.

Sleepless in Stilwater

“Three.”

“Hmm?”

Troy held up three fingers. “That’s the third time you’ve yawned in as many minutes. And I’d be okay with that if you weren’t, you know, doin’ seventy on a forty-five mile an hour highway.”

Bridget broke eye contact with the road long enough to give him a sidelong glare that would wither a lesser man. “I’m not the only one doing their best Fast and the Furious impression out there,” she irritably shot back. A sports car rushed past them with an ear splitting squeal that made Troy jump, and she gestured at it. “See?”

Troy sunk back into the leather seat of the [insert car model here], returning her glare with one of his own. “That’s not the point and you know it. The point is I’d rather not end up a red smear on the pavement because my wheel man fell asleep at the goddamn wheel.”

“Oh, is that all I-” Her mouth cracked open into another face-splitting yawn; she barely managed to hide it behind her hand. “-all I am to you? Your wheel man?”

“Four. And don’t give me that crap, you’re the one that called dibs on driving.”

“I only called dibs cause you drive like a grandma on a broken scooter.”

“You mean I drive the speed limit.”

Bridget ignored him. “Besides,” she said, swerving around a semi-truck sharp enough to make him grab at the handle above the passenger window, “I’ve got places to be after this. Julius called me about a-” she let out another yawn. “-about a storage place, said the Rollerz keep their best wheels there.”

A smirk crossed Troy’s face. He waited until Bridget’s attention was on him before he held up five fingers and wiggled them. It was worth it to see the way her eyebrows dropped into a sharp V before she jabbed a finger in his direction. “Don’t you fucking say it.”

“Don’t need to say anything.”

The one finger swiftly flipped upward into giving him the bird as she returned her attention to the highway. “You’re lucky I don’t throw you out on the highway this second,” she growled, though a smile playing at the corners of her lips undercut the hostile tone.

Troy chuckled, then settled back in his seat enough to look out the car window. Stilwater was a shithole on a good day, but the oranges, purples, and blues of sunset colored the world into something more palpable to take in. Light bounced off the towering buildings of Downtown, harsh edges and cold, reflective glass softening under the gentle touch of twilight. But you could only watch buildings whiz by for so long. His gaze, as it so often did in these rare quiet moments, returned to her.

As much as he bitched about it, there was one thing he didn’t mind about Bridget being the go-to driver. It allowed him time to just… take her in. Look openly, without other people seeing and giving him crap for being lovestruck. Without her giving him crap for being lovestruck, because even after the months they’ve been together she still shied away from open affection more often than not. She cuts the sentiment with a joke, or by teasing him, or some combination of both. He doesn’t mind it- he wonders sometimes if he’s a glutton for punishment, given his career path and choice of romantic partner, but he doesn’t mind being so. Not with her around.

So he looks at her. The way her eyelids keep fluttering slightly, only for her to stubbornly hold them back open. The dark circles he’d think were black eyes if they weren’t only on her lower eyelids. She’s tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, jiggling the leg not in charge of the pedals. Any motion to tell her body it isn’t time to sleep yet. He’d make a joke about looking in a mirror if seeing it didn’t bother him so much.

That was the downside of being undercover. You got real good at seeing things people tried to hide. He had to say something. He opened his mouth, and...

“For real, though. You look like shit. Have you slept at all?”

And of course something stupid came out. Miracle of miracles, she scoffed instead of chucking him onto the highway. “Bold move to question my sleeping habits. How many used coffee mugs are on your desk again?”

Troy chose to ignore her words. “Look man, just-” He sighed, running a hand down his face. “-go home. Take a shower or something. Get some food. You need a break, Bridge.”

Bridget’s face was impassive, staring straight forward as she shifted the car into the express lane. “Can’t. Julius-”

Enough of this. “Did he tell you to do it tonight?” he asked, cutting her off before she could restate whatever bullshit task Julius had given her to do on top of everything else he’d piled on her. For fuck’s sake, sometimes it felt like she was carrying the whole gang by herself in between the tasks Julius sent down the pipeline and the duties she’d taken on herself to perform.

The glare she gave him could melt permafrost. “No.”

“Then do it tomorrow when you’re fresh.”

“I’m fresh enough,” she bit out. “You’re worrying way too much-”

The words burst from his chest before he could vet them. “I’m worrying the right goddamned amount for someone watching a person he cares about take way more shit on than she needs to.”

Bridget’s eyes went wide, whatever she’d been about to say dying in her open mouth.

Troy ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if this is some macho attempt to prove yourself or some shit, but you don’t have to do this. Slow down. Take care of yourself. Just- please.”

She was quiet for several minutes, eyes locked on the road as she slowed to match the speed of traffic. He’d almost given up on getting a response before she spoke again. “I won’t go to the storage place tonight. It’s-” She swallowed. “It’s late. Rollerz’ll be getting the cars out for races by now, there’s bound to be way more hanging around than during the day.”

He knows those justifications. Her saying he’s right without saying it directly. When she spoke again, her voice was careful. “Got anything else going on later?”

Manila folders scattered across a coffee table, a rapidly growing pile of cigarette stubs as he figures out the best way to ruin his friend’s lives-

“Nothing that can’t wait.”

When Bridget had first joined the Saints, Troy had thought her unreadable. It was easier now to read her once he knew what to look for. Her rubbing her thumb against the side of her index finger- something self soothing. Bouncing her leg- buying time to think. The lift of her head to look at him directly- she was searching him, weighing his reaction. “Feel like staying over?”

Always. “If you want me to.”

The tension in Bridget’s shoulders dissipated, and she gave him a small smile. “Of course I do, that’s why I asked,” she replied, punching him in the arm. “Dumbass.”

===

Rain tapped an improv jazz rhythm on the glass of Bridget’s bedroom window, and Troy couldn’t sleep. Blame the cigarettes, the coffee, the crippling anxiety and paranoia. The cause ultimately didn’t matter, the effect was the digital clock on Bridget’s bedside table hit 2AM and he was no closer to falling asleep than he was when he originally lay down. Bridget, though. Bridget had been asleep the moment her head touched the pillow. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a moment of satisfying vindication.

He rolled over, resting a hand on her arm.

It was strange to see Bridget asleep. If Bridget was awake, she was moving- tapping her foot, shifting from side to side. She bounced her heels if a meeting went too long, rattling the table until he placed a hand on her thigh to get her to stop (among… other reasons). If she chose to talk, she talked with her whole body, her hands dancing in the air. Even when she was seated and still, a part of her still seemed to tremble with energy, anticipation and eagerness. Not now, though. Now she laid there, the rise and fall of her chest the only motion. Light drifted through the cracks in the blinds from the streetlight outside her window, resting softly on the freckles on her cheeks.

His hand traveled down her arm, into the dip of her waist, over the swell of her hip bone. Bridget wasn’t a paper-thin waif by any stretch of the imagination, but without the bulk of her sweatshirt to fill out her usual silhouette, she looked… smaller. More vulnerable. Which was ridiculous, he’d seen what she could do with a gun- hell, forget a gun, he’d seen the havoc she created with her fists alone- but somehow. Somehow that veneer was stripped away in the hazy orange light of a half-dead lamppost bulb, and the only thing left was a tired twenty-one year old who needed a hell of a lot more sleep than she was getting.

Christ. She really was twenty-one, wasn’t she? The face she wore around the other Saints made her seem older than that. It was all harsh angles and stony silences, only a twitch of a smile or a slight furrow in her brow betraying the emotions running electric through her veins. The uncertainty there at the beginning had long since suffocated under a rap sheet he hated to tally up in his head. It was a thing with no remorse, and little room for mercy.

And yet that face was forgotten in her sleep. The ever present tension slackened, releasing that hardened shell and letting it fall away in favor of something softer. She denied the existence of that softness, but he knew. He was allowed to know, he realized, warmth settling in his chest at the thought. Of all people, she’d offered that gift to him.

And it’s a gift you’ll lose soon.

The thought cut a sharp line through the haze, frozen against the warmth of the moment. Troy stilled, his hand resting on her waist. Somewhere in between the light on her cheeks and the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest, he’d forgotten what would be waiting for them. That as much as he tried to dodge and delay, the day Chief Monroe decided it was time to pull the plug on the Saints was coming sooner than later- and Bridget, ambitious and unknowing, was only hastening that end.

His sigh was frayed, thin and trailing off into nothing. This relationship was never going to last forever. He’d known that going in, had willingly condemned them both to heartbreak, but it hadn’t mattered then. That future had drowned in the affection in her gaze. The warmth of her laughter. The spark of her lips on his. But now…

Troy cupped Bridget’s cheek, pressing his forehead gently against hers as he closed his eyes. “I’m gonna miss you,” he whispered. He had to say it, just once. Even if she didn’t hear it- since she would never hear it- it needed to escape before it withered under his held tongue. It needed to exist, just for a moment, all his regrets pouring into that simple, weighted phrase.

At some point she’d wake up, either through him gently shaking her or her own merit. Either way she’d grouch at him for not waking her up sooner, blinking blearily at him in a hopelessly endearing way she’d punch him for if he ever mentioned it. She’d whip the covers off of both of them, laughing when he protests. Showers would follow, breakfast of some sort, and time would continue to march forward to that inevitable, heartbreaking point.

But that was a future they didn’t have to face yet. For now, they could stay like this- curling into each other, breath to breath and at peace.

For now, he’d save her a rude awakening.

#writers writes things #otp: troyget #oc: bridget summers #troy bradshaw #saints row

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writer-k-pop · 3 years

Text

Crushing Phonecalls

언젠가 업보가 그를 찾아올 것이다. Someday karma will come for him.

Description: Anxiously waiting for the proposal decision from your workplace, you go and visit Jimin in the practice studio, hoping to take your mind off of the impending decision. But a phone call in the middle of their practice crushes your soul. And the following phone call does nothing to help it. But Jimin decides to say something about it. Warnings: Swearing, some verbal workplace bullying Genre: Angst, Fluff, Idol!Jimin x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2k

BTS Masterlist | Masterlists

"Heyyyy!" Jimin greets me happily as I walk into the practice room.

"Hello, there." I smile and open my arms just before he barrels into me.

"Hey, (y/n)." Jungkook waves a hand at me and the others give me smiles and waves as well.

I wave back with Jimin still holding onto me. "Hey guys."

"Did you get done with the proposal?" Jimin asks, pulling back but keeping his hands on my shoulders.

I nod, my body still buzzing with nervousness. "I don't know if we'll get it though." I sigh.

"Why not?" Jimin tilts his head to the side, "You worked so hard on it. i'm pretty sure that kind of hard work will get picked."

"The other proposal is made by Ashton, the CEO's son." I shrug and my shoulders want to cower away from the thoughts that flood my mind.

"What does that matter?" He wonders and pulls me out of the way of the door.

"He, uh, has often pulled strings for his son." I scratch the surface of the real reason.

"What does that mean?" He asks in a low voice, keeping the conversation from curious ears.

"It's nothing." I smile at him, wanting to keep my more serious work troubles away from him.

"No, I want to know." He pushes with concerned eyes, "Is he hurting you?"

I hesitate before shaking my head, "Not physically." I sigh, "He just makes it a point to berate me and my team, and degrade our work."

"That little shit." Jimin says through gritted teeth.

"It's fine, Jimin." I reassure him, "My manager told me that our proposal is really good and all the other department managers like my proposal better, so I shouldn't worry. But I do."

"You're nervous. That makes sense. You worked for weeks on this." Jimin nods, "I mean, if the managers are all on board with your proposal then maybe that little shit will be put in his place. When do they decide?"

"They're having the meeting today but I don't know when they'll inform us of the decision." I tell him with an attempt at a reassured smile.

"You'll let me know the outcome?" He asks, "I want to celebrate with you when they choose your proposal."

My smile changes to cover up my doubt and, from what I can see, Jimin buys it. "For sure."

He smiles and gives me a cheeky smile. "Good." He presses a soft kiss to my cheek.

Jin claps his hands loudly at us and Jimin whips around, "Yes?" He drags out the word dramatically.

"Chop, chop. I have dance moves to learn." Jin says and puts his hands on his hips, giving back the sass that Jimin gave him.

I grab Jimin's hand and drag him over to where the other guys are standing together. "Here he is." I tell them with a playful smile, and then I turn to him, "I'm going to be watching you for mistakes."

"Oh, I'm so scared." He rolls his eyes and shakes his hands out by his face. I shove his shoulder with a laugh.

"Then you better do well." I stick out my tongue at him before sitting down against the mirror.

Crossing my legs in front of me, I watch their rehearsals with most of my attention on them. The rest of my attention feels for any notification on my phone that my hands grip tightly.

I normally would enjoy BTS's rehearsals but today, I'm just too nervous and anxious to thoroughly enjoy it. Just as my team and I were finishing our day, Ashton decided to shout across the whole floor and berate us. Specifically our chances that our proposal would be chosen. He shouted that we had just wasted countless hours, created garbage, and that we should be embarrassed that we submitted the proposal to the board.

The whole thing just put me in a constant nervous state. My body feels like a electricity current is running through my whole body, buzzing like I just finished an hour long ride on one of those old metal scooters over bumpy black tar.

After twenty minutes of watching the boys dance, pause, talk through, learn, and then start dancing again, my phone starts to vibrate with a call and I literally jump to my feet. Seeing my manager's name on my screen, I quickly catch Jimin's gaze and motion that I'm going into the hallway. Not waiting for his response, I open the door and shut it before answering the call.

"Hey, Lisa." I breathe out, my heart pounding in my head as I walk down the hall, away from the practice room. "What's up?" I ask, leaning back against the wall.

"Hey, (y/n)." Lisa says with a heavy sigh and my heart drops below the basement floors of the building. "The meeting just ending and they made a decision." She says.

"Not good?" I ask trying to lessen the blow.

"I'm sorry." She sighs again, "The CEO overruled all the board members and chose Ashton's proposal."

My eyes close in disappointment and my shoulders sag under the weight of Lisa's words.

"But you should know that all the board members voted for your proposal over Ashton's." Lisa continues talking when I don't say a word, "You and your team did such good work and you should be proud of that."

"Yeah, I, uh, yeah. Thanks for letting me know, Lisa." I tell her, wanting to get off of this phone call as soon as possible.

"An email's being sent out to your team so you won't have to tell them." She informs me, "I'm sorry, (y/n)."

"Thanks, Lisa." I thank her and then hang up.

A cry hiccups through my chest and I bend my knees to sit on my heels with my back still pressed against the wall. I squeeze my eyes tighter and will myself not to cry. Not here. Not now.

I really thought we were going to be chosen. My whole team worked so hard. They're going to be crushed when they read that email.

Groaning, I let my head fall forward and my arms rest on my knees, phone still clutched in my hand. I sigh heavily and a wave of anger for the CEO washes over me.

How could he choose his son over a really good proposal? The entire board voted for ours but he chose his son.

My phone starts to ring with another call. Thinking it's one of my team members, I answer it without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?" I answer the call, keeping as much disappointment out of my voice as possible.

"HA!" A male voice shouts on the other end of the line and I recognize the mocking tone immediately: Ashton.

My jaw involuntarily clenches in anger.

"I TOLD YOU I'D WIN OVER YOU." Ashton says with a cocky edge to his voice, "MY PROPOSAL IS SO MUCH BETTER THAN YOURS. AND I DIDN'T EVEN PUT IN AS MUCH WORK. HA. HA. HA."

Running a hand slowly through my hair, I slowly pull the phone away from my ear as tears line my closed eyes. Even though my phone is away from my ear, I can still hear Ashton's voice.

"I knew you weren't that good at your job." He cackles, "You weren't ever good but this is just proof. And it shows that your ideas are trash. That team of yours can't even tell you how bad your ideas are. You really must be a shitty leader."

The first tear falls and lands on my pant leg, creating a single dark spot.

"Unless, the proposal ideas came from them and you were too dumb to see how awful they were." Ashton continues, "That's gotta be it! You're just dumb!"

Just a sob pushes past my lips, the phone is yanked out of my hand. I look up as Jimin turns the call on speaker and talks back to Ashton. I can feel the anger rolling off of his shoulders.

"Hi, who is this?" He asks, his voice dangerously low.

"Uh... isn't this (y/n)'s number?" Ashton repeats the question, unsure of himself.

"I don't know a (y/n). But you sound like a shitty person." Jimin lies through gritted teeth. "What kind of self absorbed, sad, 10-year-old man are you? You really think that you're being cool by calling someone dumb? Or their team members? Where the hell is your humility? Where the hell is your humanity?" He scoffs, "Oh, no, I got it, you must not have a brain." He says before quickly ending the call.

A few more tears managed to slip down my cheeks but I'm too stunned at Jimin's outburst to wipe them away. Jimin tucks my phone in his back pocket and turns to face me after exhaling. Noticing my tears, he quickly knees down next to me and wipes them away.

"Hey." He almost whispers with a small comforting smile.

"I can't believe that lame excuse for a man is the CEO's son." He says before wrapping me up in a hug. "Don't listen to him. He speaks lies. You and your team are so smart. You worked so hard on that proposal and you should be nothing but proud about your work."

I sniffle at his words and a few tears fall.

"You will keep your head high and not let that man's words make you doubt yourself." Jimin continues, rubbing a hand on my back. "Every word he said was false. Every single word. Someday karma will come for him. And I hope to god that you're there when it strikes him down."

I pull back with a choked laugh, "I don't think I want to be around for that." I tell him.

His hands rest on my cheeks and his thumbs brush away the fallen tears. "Either way, I still hope that karma takes him down in the cruelest of ways."

Jimin smiles warmly at me, "You did so good. And I'm so proud of you." He says and my heart swells. "So, so proud of you."

I return his smile and take a deep breath. "Thank you." I whisper.

"I'm always proud of you." He states before leaning in to softly kiss my lips.

After resting my forehead against his for a second, I pull back and ask, "How much did you hear?"

"I heard enough." He shrugs but I can hear just how much anger is laced in his voice.

"You heard it all." I correct him and shake my head, looking down to my lap.

"Hey." Jimin says and uses his finger to lift my chin back up, "Head high. You did really good work. Be proud of that."

I nod, determined to make myself see that and believe it. "I did good work. My team did good work."

"Exactly." He encourages me.

I pull him in for a hug and rest my cheek on his shoulder, "Thank you, Jimin."

"No need to thank me, dear." He pats my back, "I will always do what is necessary."

"Even if it means lying about who's phone you're answering?" I ask, releasing him from my embrace.

He chuckles and I love the sound. "I would pretend to be anyone to anyone who is bringing you down."

"Noted." I say with a genuine smile.

"If you're up for it, we're all going out to dinner tonight, if you want to join." Jimin offers and stands up with a hand extended to help me up, "Oh, and Jungkook said he's paying."

I raise an eyebrow at him, "Did he say it or...?"

Jimin sighs, having been caught, "He lost a game so now he's gotta pay up."

"You guys are awful." I shake my head at him.

"But you're going to come, aren't you?" He guess with a knowing look.

I slap my hand into his and smirk, "Hell yeah I'm going."

Jimin pulls me up and wraps an arm around my waist protectively.

"Should we tell the guys so we can go show this Ashton jerk a lesson?" He whispers as we walk back down towards the practice room.

I slap his chest with a laugh, "What happened to waiting for karma?"

"Just offering to speed up the process." He laughs.

#kpop #kpop imagines #bts #bts imagine #bts jimin imagine #bts jimin #jimin imagine #park jimin imagine #park jimin #jimin #writer-k-pop

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rikalovesrice · 3 years

Text

Douxie x Reader #4 - Comfort (Part 1)

Reader Recap : Lives in older sister’s shadow, rarely ever acknowledged by her parents or people at school. Has a host of insecurities because of it. Part-time pizza delivery girl on a scooter. A partner in crime when hunting for monsters in the late hours of night with Douxie, Archie, and Zoe. You and Douxie have become close friends.

You didn’t know where you going and you didn’t care. All you knew is that you had to get as far away from your house and the people inside of it as you could without leaving Arcadia.

You floored it on your scooter, fueled by the frustration and hurt pumping through your veins. Eventually you rolled into town and parked the scooter in the park, dismounting and leaning back against the seat, holding yourself. There was a dull sort of ache in your head and you could feel the pressure of tears forming but refusing to fall. It brought you to the ground and you curled in on yourself, rocking forward onto the balls of your feet. It was times like this, when being swept aside became too much, that you questioned your very existence. Why you even bothered sometimes. If your parents even knew they had another child. If you really were just a speck of dirt on your older sister’s pristine image.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed there all balled up beside your scooter, taking deep breathes and crying softly into your arms. You had just noticed a bizarre, prickling rasp in your ear when -

“(Name)!!”

There as a flash of blue and you instinctively ducked, rolling forward and roughly onto your side as some kind of misty, shadowy form took the brunt of a blast of blue. The creature screeched and quickly recovered from the attack. It was about the size of a squirrel and it twitched and jerked about like a glitch. White, ghastly, hollow eyes pulsed against a shape of black and gray smoke, like distorted full moons. You backed away on your elbows, terrified when not one, not two, but what looked like a hundred more of the things manifested from the night, rising like a wave from behind your scooter.

You braced yourself as the creatures descended upon you, squeezing your eyes shut, when a hand clamped around your shoulder and pulled you snug against a familiar bundle of black.

“Douxie...!” you gasped, looked up at his face creased with concentration. You flinched at the force of the shadowy creatures slamming into the shield of magic Douxie had conjured, his left arm extended, charm bracelet alight with symbols. When they’d dispersed, Douxie lowered the shield and helped you to your feet, checking you over.

“Are you alright?” he asked, patting your shoulders and arms. “What are you doing here? I thought you had something with your family tonight.”

“What...What are those things?” you huffed, wondering how you’d manage to forget what Arcadia’s like after midnight. The flurry of writhing shadows regrouped in the air, a frightening show against the street lights, and were circling back. Douxie moved in front of you, watching them closely with charm bracelet at the ready.

“Hollowsprites,” Douxie said lowly. “Nasty things. Haven’t seen this many since Morgana returned. Drawn to darkness. They feed upon strong negative emotions and feelings. Fear. Anger. Sadness.” His voice lost some edge and his head turned slightly back towards you. “Pain and suffering...”

Sensing a lapse in attention, the hollowsprites spiraled downward, only to be intercepted by a bright flash of pink and a burst of fire. Archie and Zoe were hurrying onto the scene, Archie perching himself around Douxie’s shoulders.

“(Name)! Change your mind about tonight?” Archie asked, glancing back at you.

“So this is where they all went,” Zoe said, pink electricity sparking between her fingers. “Thought you were gonna have all the fun, did you, Doux?”

“Ugh, you’re welcome for finding them,” Douxie retorted. Then he grinned, his charm bracelet flickering as he clenched his fist. “Go on, Zoe. I’ve worn them down for you!”

“Yeah cause more hollowsprites showing up is wearing them down.”

“Provoking is more like it,” Archie added. “Dramatically emoting?”

“Whose side are you on?” Douxie whined.

“Uh, sorry, Arch,” you say. “I think I was one...er, emoting.”

Archie turned in the air to face you, his white eyebrows creased. “That so? Are you alright, (Name)?”

Douxie let his guard down even more, slightly lowering his charm bracelet and equally concerned as he looked back at you.

“Okay not to be insensitive but can we do this later cause we’ve kinda got a situation here!” Zoe lashed the angry hollowsprites with sparks of magic. “Sit tight, (Name). Come on you two!”

“Thought you wanted all the fun, Zoe!”

“Douxie, I swear -”

Continuing their banter, Douxie, Zoe, and Archie got to work blasting and zapping and burning the hollowsprites into submission. The pain in your heart was suspended for the moment as you were fixated on the action in front of you. Several hollowsprites lunged at you, but they ended up barreling into another one of Douxie’s shields.

“(Name), whatever negative emotions are inside of you, they want to consume them,” he said, looking back at you. “They want to use your emotions to make them stronger and corrupt you. But you can resist them. Don’t let them win!” Douxie shoved the magical shield forward with a loud grunt, the magic bursting and causing the hollowsprites to scatter furiously.

Corruption. That was a concept that hadn’t occurred to you. But now that you thought about it, it made sense. There were plenty of times the hurt threatened to melt into bitter hatred, to the point where you considered being a nasty person yourself in retaliation. Everything was constantly being taken away from you. Everything. But...There were things within you that your family could never touch. Things no one could touch or take, not if you had any say in it. And right now...It seems you did.

No one would steal the peace of a bookstore. The warmth of a cafe. Jamming out in a record store. The thrill of cruising on a scooter under a starlit sky. The wonder of literal magic, the kind you thought only existed in movies. A talking cat with glasses and a pair of wings. Headphones over a head of pink hair. Black clothes and golden eyes and that breathtaking smile of his.

The place where you belonged.

The friends you now cherished.

The love you had found.

The pain of understanding now what life could be. What it should have been.

You were constantly aware of the exhaustion of choosing love. Choosing to have grace. Choosing to be strong and steadfast. Choosing to be different. But as tiring as it was, you never once regretted it. And that belonged to you, too.

The decision, your resolve, to try and be better.

You planted your feet, grounding yourself as the hollowsprites once again took aim at you. As they dove down, Douxie almost conjured another shield but you stepped firmly in front of him.

“Stay away from my emotions you freaks!” you yelled at the mass of writhing shadows. “They’re mine! My feelings are mine!” Almost immediately, the hollowsprites recoiled as if stung, screeching and squealing in confusion.

“That’s it!” Douxie said with a broad smile, summoning rings of magic to attack the creatures further. Archie flew between the rings, setting Douxie’s magic ablaze to amplify his spells. Soon blue flames were raining down like falling leaves from hollowsprites being burned alive.

“Big mistake messing with my friend!” Zoe said, engulfing herself in pink electricity. With two taps of her toes on the ground, she bolted forward, powerful streams of lightning trailing behind her and frying any hollowsprite in her path. The ravenous behavior of the creatures dissolved into frustrated disorientation, members of the shadowy cluster zipping around aimlessly.

You noticed that the hollowsprites weren’t actually dying. Rather the number of hollowsprites began to dwindle as members of the swarm shot off into the night like dark firecrackers.

Eventually all the hollowsprites fled, an eerie silence filling the town in their wake. All three of your magical friends loosened in exhaustion, Douxie actually dropping to the ground to sit.

“None of them were destroyed,” you commented, looking up into the night where the creatures had vanished.

“Yea, well...As long as negative emotions exist, hollowsprites can’t be destroyed,” Zoe said. “Just shooed away, really.”

You frowned. “I’m sorry...”

“Don’t be,” Douxie said. “We’ve been seeing more and more of them lately anyway.”

“You see, hollowsprites are also drawn to...‘disturbances’ in the realms, so to speak,” Archie said. “We suspect something must be amiss...”

“There’s that, too, yes. But I suppose they targeted you because your emotions were so strong...”

You locked eyes with Douxie, a moment passing between you both. His eyes were soft with concern. For some reason, looking to those eyes, you felt really vulnerable.

Zoe cleared her throat. “Erm, Archie? Why don’t we make sure the rest of the town is clear of those things?”

“Pardon...?” Archie said. “But- Oh. Oh...Y-yes! Good idea, Zoe!”

Zoe gave you a quick hug. “I’ll text you later. You better answer me! Make sure she gets home safe, Doux.”

You felt a blush on your cheeks. They were leaving you alone with him?

“Uh, hold on-” But Zoe and Archie were already hurrying away. You leaned back against the seat of your scooter, fumbling with your fingers and saying nothing. And suddenly extremely aware of Douxie’s presence. You actually jumped a little when he said your name.

“(Name)...Um...” Douxie scratched the back of his neck. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to...But if you don’t mind me asking what happened...?”

Of course you didn’t mind. Douxie was a safe space where the monsters couldn’t reach you. Your place of respite. But even though the tears came easily then, it didn’t mean you weren’t embarrassed.

“They all forgot,” you said, your voice already thick with tears. “They forgot about the dinner I had planned to um...celebrate my dad’s promotion.” With an empty laugh, you wiped your face with your palm. “I mean, I don’t know what I was expecting. I just...”

Douxie got up off the ground, stepping closer to you. “(Name)...”

“I just wanted to do something nice for my dad. For my family. But I’m dumb and I actually thought they’d care. Mom and dad just went out to eat and my sister just stayed in her room and the food was getting cold and -”

As soon as his arms wrapped around you, you sobbed into his sweatshirt. You were vaguely aware that you were probably getting tears and snot and dribble all over your crush but you couldn’t stop crying for a solid three minutes. Douxie just held you the whole time, hand squeezing your shoulder and thumb stroking your back.

"I’m emoting all over you...,” you whimpered, having settled down into soft sniffling and hiccups.

“Oh stop it,” Douxie said. Then he hugged you tighter. “I’m so sorry they treat you like this. You know you can always come to me...Zoe, and Archie, right? I... We’ll never sweep you aside.”

You almost came undone again. Not wanting to soak Douxie’s sweatshirt further, you moved back and pressed your forehead against his collarbone, still staying as close as you could to his warmth. To his eyes like the sun and moon, glowing with compassion, soft with understanding. To his smile that always made you smile. To his gentle hands. Those streaks of blue hair. The comforting shadow of his presence. His magic, bright and beautiful like he was.

It terrified you.

“Yeah...” You pulled away to look up at him, still holding his arms. “Yeah, I know you won’t. I...I believe you. I’ll try....”

Douxie gazed at you for a moment before smiling softy, wiping a tear away with his finger.

“Good,” he said. Then he smooshed your face between his hands, forcing your cheeks and lips to pucker.

“H-hey!!”

He released you, laughing. “Shall I walk you home?”

Blushing wildly and rubbing your face, you managed a smile.

“That’d be nice.”

There wasn’t any hurry. It was probably two in the morning now but would your family notice your absence? Negative.

You guided your scooter along as Douxie strolled beside you, the two of you chatting about any and everything. Douxie went off a bit talking about how he didn’t understand people who ate fondant and how much of a jerk Shakespeare was. It was the cutest thing. Then you started going on and on about how pretty the moon was tonight and how crescent moons were your favorite. For a second, Douxie might’ve been staring at you, but, no, duh, you definitely imagined it.

“Well uh...This is me.” You took one look at your front door and sighed. “Sadly.”

“Hey.” Douxie placed a hand on your arm. “Remember what I said. Anytime. A phone call, a text-”

“A raven?”

He snickered. “Especially a raven. But seriously...Just say the word.”

Under the moonlight, Douxie was otherworldly. So gorgeous your heart threatened to swell to bursting. How was it that your paths could possibly have crossed? It escaped you, and you had no hope of catching it.

“Okay,” you said softly.

“Okay,” Douxie repeated. “Goodnight, (Name).”

“Goodnight, Douxie.”

Neither of you moved.

“Ah, go on, then,” Douxie said kindly, putting his hands in his pockets. “I’ll stay until you’re inside.”

“O-oh. Okay, thanks.” You parked your scooter next to your sister’s car. Just as your hand touched the doorknob, you were overwhelmed with the urge to just tell him. Heart racing, you tried to say his name, starting to turn back around.

“Uh..Uh D-Doux-”

“(Name).”

You paused. “Y-yeah?”

Douxie smiled warmly. “I’m glad that I met you. I’m glad we’re friends.”

It was sweetness followed by a stab.

“Me, too,” you said, meaning it with your whole aching heart. “You...” A shaky breath. “You guys mean the world to me.”

Before he could say anything else, you hurried inside, up the stairs in the dark, and into your room, not caring if you woke anyone up. You curled up on your bed, face in your forearms.

You were happy. So, so happy.

And so utterly crushed.

Just outside, still in front of your house, Douxie’s eyes fixated on your bedroom window. Then he turned and started back towards the town, wondering how he could ease the pain in your life and thinking about the look on your face, the glow in your eyes, as you enthused over the moonlight.

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beanfic · 4 years

Text

Late Night Adventures

Pairing: Tyler Joseph x reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: mr.joseph says a bad word :o but besides that, none!

Request: can i have the reader, tyler, and josh getting into some late night shenanigans on tour and maybeeeee there’s a confession involved from a certain joseph 👀 - @nonsenseverses

Author’s note: I loved writing this request so much!! (theyre still open, btw, so if people want to send in more requests!) also fun fact! This is my first fic written on my new computer :D usually i write them on my laptop but this time I wrote it with a fancy keyboard so it went *click* *click* *click*

“You know what I am thinking?” Tyler spoke up between his bites of the Hawaiian pizza he was munching on. Both you and Josh looked up towards him and saw his mischievous look.

“What?” you were nervous for his answer, usually when Tyler had a look like that on his face, it meant no good.

“Late night shenanigans?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh hell yeah!” Josh clapped his hands together and rubbed them together, as if he was creating an evil plot.

“Tyler,” you sighed. “Do you remember how much trouble we got in last time? You literally crashed the golf cart into the wall of the amphitheater and caused like, what?, 2k worth of damages?”

“Y/N! C’mon! We will be safe.” Josh chimed in before Tyler even had a chance to respond.

“Yeah! We’ve been on tour for like two months now and we only have had like 10 late night shenanigans. We gotta make them tradition.” He smiled to himself as he thought about everything he could do.

“Okay, fine.” You raised your hands up in defeat, but you couldn’t help to feel a little bit of excitement. You enjoyed the late night adventures you spent with the boys on tour. The first time Josh had invited you on tour was back during regional at best era, and you quickly were invited to every tour in the future. You liked helping out in the back, plus you really liked spending time with Tyler and Josh. They were like your best friends, even though you did have a little bit of a crush on Tyler, you couldn’t lie about that.

“So, Joseph, what do you have planned this time?” Josh asked. Tyler thought for a second before standing up and grabbing his laptop and bringing it over to the couch that you were all sitting on in the tour bus.

“Hear me out! They have these electric scooters, and I think we should ride them downtown across this bridge.” He pulled up a photo of a large bridge that was lit up with rainbow lights.

“Whoa, that’s pretty,” you whispered.

“It really said gay rights,” Josh chimed in making you all snicker.

“Can I just say that I have never ridden an electric scooter before?” you confessed, your stomach bubbling with nervousness.

“You think we have?” Tyler laughed.

“I have.” Josh spoke, making both you and Tyler to look over at him.

“When?”

“Back when I was visiting LA! They have them all over!”

“Are they pretty easy to use?” you asked.

Josh nodded, “You’ll get a hang of it quick, Y/N, trust me!”

“It won’t be bad, I promise!” Tyler added, trying to help ease your nerves. You smiled at him before taking a deep breath.

“When are we headed out?”

“I was thinking like around 1?” Tyler looked at his apple watch. It read 12:38 am.

“Do you think it will be cold out? What should I wear?” you tend to ask a lot of questions when you were nervous, and they seemed to all be making an appearance right now.

“The weather says it’s around 65 degrees so I would suggest something comfortable but warm? Maybe sweatpants and a sweatshirt?” Josh suggested. You thank him before excusing yourself to get into better clothes. You squeezed into the tiny bathroom and you stared at yours;f in the mirror. For some reason you were more nervous for this late night adventure than you have been in the past. You weren’t sure if it was because you all had gotten in trouble with the boys’ manager last time, or if it was because you did not want to make a fool of yourself on the electric scooters in front of Tyler.

“You okay in there?” you heard a knock on the door. It was Tyler.

“Yep!” You unlocked the door and walked out, now in warmer and much more comfortable clothes.

“I like your sweatshirt!” Tyler said with a soft smile. You felt your cheeks blush.

“Thanks, is it because it’s yours?” you teased. It was an older style of a twenty one pilots hoodie.

“It looks way better on you than it ever did on me!”

“Sure, Ty,” you rolled your eyes and laughed.

“If you guys are done flirting, are you ready to head out?” Josh peeked his head into the hallway between the bathroom and the living area.

“We are not flirting!” Tyler snapped back at him and your face fell without you realizing. You think Tyler might have noticed too, because his eyes softened when he looked at you. “I’m sorry.” He whispered to you and you just responded with a small smile.

“I downloaded the app for the scooters and it looks like there is a group of them like five minutes from here, we just have to go left out of the parking lot!”

“At least one of us is good at directions!” you teased Tyler, reminding him of how he got you and Josh lost in new York city once, which also happened to be the most fun night of your life, but that is for another story. All of you piled out of the bus, saying goodbye to the others that were playing Mario kart. The air was chilly, and you wrapped your arms around your body to try to keep yourself warm. You followed the boys down the dark street, and you wished there were more street lamps.

“It’s spooky out here,” Tyler spoke.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe!” Josh turned around and patted Tyler’s shoulder.

“Thanks, love,” Tyler snickered.

“Ew,” you pretended to gag at the boys.

“I see the scooters!” Josh pointed to a rack of the scooters. He helped you and Tyler set up the app and make sure everything was working. You wished there were helmets, but hopefully you wouldn’t crash or anything like that.

“Whoa!” Tyler zipped off as he pressed on the power of the scooter, You watched in awe as he effortlessly made and loop and returned back to you and Josh.,

“You’re a natural!” you complimented him, making him beam.

“Watch this!” Josh said. He hopped on the scooter and started to forward but then he did a little hop and spun in a circle.

“Show off,” Tyler grumbled.

“Your turn, Y/N!” Josh looked over at you and you nervously looked down at the scooter. It seemed to be mocking you.

“Alright.” You took a deep breath and placed both of your feet on the scooter, holding tightly onto the handles, and gently gave the scooter some power. It moved forward with a jolt, making you lose your balance a little bit. “It’s much more powerful than I was expecting.”

“You’ll get used to it!” Tyler reassured you. “Try again.”

You nodded and tried again, preparing yourself for the power. You stayed balanced as it started to move and then you practiced moving the handle bars left and right, and Tyler was right, you were able to get the hang of it fairly quickly.

“Onward!” Tyler raised his hand and pointed forwards as he rode off into the street. You laughed at how silly he was and followed him. Josh rode next to you, making sure you were doing okay.

“How far away is the bridge?” you asked. Josh looked down at the GPS on his phone.

“One more left turn and it should be down that road!” You thanked him and continued riding. It was peaceful. Tyler would start singing one of his songs, Josh making drumming sounds with his mouth, and you would just look at the night sky and take in your surroundings. There were quite a lot of murals on the walls of the buildings, which you were really pretty.

“I see the bridge!” Tyler shouted. You looked past him and saw the bridge, it was bright and lit up in the dark. You all rode until you reached the top of the middle of the bridge and you all stopped to look out over the river below.

“This is gorgeous!” you stated, looking down at the waves crashing below you.

“Like you,” he whispered. You weren’t quite sure you heard him correctly. You whipped your head around and looked at him with your mouth open, not sure what to say.

“Wait what?” you stumbled over your words and you could see Tyler’s ears turn a beet red.

“Oh, I um, said you look gorgeous? Like you said the view was gorgeous and-”

“Thank you, Tyler,” you stopped his stammering. “You’re pretty gorgeous yourself too.”

“Not true,” he scoffed.

“Tyler, it’s true! Right, Josh?” you turned around to see Josh who was on the other side of the bridge taking photos, not even realizing that you were talking to him. You turned back around to Tyler and shrugged. “I mean it.”

“You think I’m gorgeous?” Tyler placed his hand on his chest, dramatically acting surprised that you could think such a thing.

“Yes! I always that you were, like have you seen yourself Ty?” you laughed nervously. Usually, you weren’t this open about your feelings with someone, especially if you didn’t know if they felt the same.

“I mean that’s what I think about you. Every time I see you, I lose my breath because of how attractive you are!” he was looking out and you saw his eyes widened when he said that last part. “I’m sorry, hopefully you didn’t think that was creepy. Shit, I’t just I really like you, Y/N, and I don’t know how to flirt or talk to people I like and-”

“Tyler.” You took a step closer to him and placed your hand on his arm, giving it a small rub to calm him down. “It’s okay. Can I confess something too?”

He nodded with wide eyes, still not saying anything.

“I like you too! I’ve had a crush on you for the past six months but I’ve been too afraid to say anything! I get nervous around cute guys.” You poked his side, making him laugh.

“You have a crush on Tyler?” Josh asked as he walked over to join your guys conversation.

“Apparently Tyler also has a crush on me!” you smiled.

“I knew it!” Josh fist pumped the air.

“What?” Tyler looked over at Josh with suspicion

“C’mon, Ty. I know how you get when you like someone, and you have been acting like that around Y/N for the past few months! So are you guys going to, like, date now?” Josh crossed his arms and wiggled his eyebrows at the two of you. You played with your sweatshirt sleeve nervously.

“Y/N?” Tyler asked. You looked up at him. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Duh,” you laughed.

“Sounds like a plan!” he leaned over and placed a kiss on your cheek.

“Ew, no kissing ion front of me!” Josh covered his eyes and Tyler punched his shoulder.

“Shut up, Dun, or I am going to kiss you!”

“Y’all are too much,” you laughed as you watched Tyler chase Josh around on the bridge.

“Dude, it’s already 3am!” Josh told both of you. “Ready to head back to the bus?”

“Yes,” you responded with a yawn. All three of you hopped on the scooters once again and rode back to the bus.

“Wait, look at that!” Tyler stopped his scooter and pointed to something that was crawling across the street.

“Ew, is that a rat?” you recognized the long eerie looking tail. “Disgusting.”

“Maybe it needs a friend,” Josh suggested.

“Hell no,” you stopped him right there. “This is how you two get in trouble, let’s get back to the bus before you two decide on some other shenanigan to get into tonight.”

“They have a point,” Tyler added.

“You were more fun when you guys weren’t together,” Josh mumbled.

“Dun, it’s been ,like fifteen minutes.”

“If anything, Y/N is gonna make me more fun!” Tyler teased.

“Exactly!” You scooted over to Tyler and gave him a high five.

“Where’s my high five??” Josh frowned.

“You get a fist pump.”

“Good enough,” Josh fist pumped you and continued on towards the bus. The warmth of the inside was nice and after you convinced Tyler to pay for all of your scooter fees with the band's credit card, it was finally time for bed. You got into pajamas and while you were brushing your teeth, you saw Tyler walk by to get into his bunk.

“Goodnight, Y/N!” Tyler said. “I’m glad that we went on our little adventure tonight, because I don’t think I would have had the guts to tell you if we didn’t.”

“Agreed.” Your lips turned upwards as Tyler leaned in and planted a kiss on your lips. Your first kiss with Tyler. It was short, but so perfect.

“You taste like toothpaste,” he chuckled.

“Your lips are very soft, like more soft than I think lips should be, do you use a lip scrub?” you questioned.

“I actually do,” he confessed. “It’s from lush and is chocolate flavored.”

“You’ll have to share!”

“My lips or the lip scrub?” he joked and you rolled your eyes.

“Both!” you leaned in for another peck on the lips. Tyler was smiling like an idiot, and it made you so giddy inside.

“Okay, I really need to sleep for the show tomorrow. Night, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Ty! Tell Josh I said goodnight too even though I am sure he is already asleep. Sleep well!”

“You too!” You watched Tyler head towards the bunks and you finished up in the bathroom. You pulled out the couch into your bed and hopped in. You replayed the events of the night, and even though you were exhausted, you had a hard time falling asleep because of the excitement of Tyler confessing his feelings for you.

This was probably one of the best late night adventures you had.

#tyler joseph fanfiction #tyler joseph x reader #twenty one pilots #tyler joseph #tyler x reader #twenty one pilots fanfiction #twenty one pilots imagine #twenty one pilots one shot #twenty one pilots fanfic #tyler joseph imagine #tyler joseph fic #tyler joseph fluff #josh dun fanfic #josh dun fanfiction #beanfic #request

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goldenponcho · 3 years

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A Cruise Fit for a King Chapter 5

Hugo tries to find help while his own funeral is being held across the sea.

Previous | Chapter 1 | Next

Kipo’s shoulders shuddered as she ascended the steps, regal skirt lifted to her ankles, to take her place at the pedestal on which sat Scarlemagne’s grand piano. She cleared her throat shakily as she approached the microphone there.

“Thank you all for being here with my family today,” a soft huff of laughter escaped her at the sight of what must have been nearly every, if NOT, every mute and human in Las Vistas congregated along the polished floors of Scarlemagne’s palace, “Most of you, I know, have terrible memories of the place we stand now. If you hadn’t wanted to be here, none of us would have blamed you in the slightest…and neither would Scarlemagne…”

Kipo’s throat constricted, and she swallowed hard as her eyes moistened, “But you did. You all had it in your hearts to return to awful memories for the sake of forgiveness and compassion that the Oak family couldn’t hope to repay you for in a million years. And I wish so much-” she choked through an involuntary sob, “-that we could express to you how much we appreciate what you’ve done for us…for ALL of us.” She looked to the front row, where her friends and family stood. Mom and dad…Wolf, Mandu, Dave, Benson, Troy…Doag, Dahlia, and Asher.

“Scarlemagne…” her voice cracked, and she bowed her head, several seconds passing in silence before she let the tears flow freely, “HUGO…my FRIEND…my BROTHER…was one of the BRAVEST people I will ever know. I can only imagine the dark places he’s been. The things he had himself convinced he had to do to survive…

“But I was lucky enough to learn who my big brother really is! And that selfless act on that night?! That’s who he truly was inside!” She inhaled sharply and paused to ride out her emotions, “And it saved me…it saved US…”

She watched through bleary eyes as every person also had tears in their eyes, human and mute, and Kipo smiled through her own, “I won’t give up on him. I don’t think he’s gone! But…if he truly is…I want him to be remembered just the way he really was. And that’s why the Newton Wolves have been kind enough to offer a place in front of their observatory for a statue in his honor!” She motioned to Billions, who gave a humbled nod, wiping a tear from his muzzle and stroking the fur of his cured brother next to him.

“Thank you…SO much!” Kipo grimaced, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes, “I know we’re all hurting, but I want this to be a time of celebration of Hugo’s life. I know it’s what he would have wanted,” she looked to her friends again with a sad smile.

“Thank you.”

~*~*~*~

Hugo had been combing the sands through the evening and well into the next morning and hadn’t found anything even as good as the tiny handful of shell he had started with. As the sun rose, he had come to the infuriating conclusion that he was going to have to work for the currency he needed.

So as soon as mutes were up and about, he started asking around. One horseshoe crab heard him out for a short time before quickly explaining that he didn’t need any more help running the arcade he owned on the pier. Another elephant seal couple turned him down at the snow-cone stand. The angler fish at the fishing dock, which puzzled Hugo in particular, was especially snappy and rude, telling him to go inland if he wanted any help at all as a land mammal.

But after rejection after rejection after rejection, it was becoming clear that going inland was his only option, so that’s what he did. He felt the old thrill he had used to in his less virtuous days when he snagged some hotdogs and cans of Explosion Berry soda from the food stand run by three sea cucumbers who had previously sprayed him with sweet relish when he had asked if he could play the old calliope on top of their wagon in exchange for shells.

Hugo wrapped his provisions in his blanket and tied it to the end of a bamboo shoot, adding a couple of red hibiscus blossoms he had found to the knot. As soon as he was set, he was off to a more centralized part of the island.

He thanked his lucky star blanket that his ancestors had been nomads, and thus he was suited to cover a lot of ground in very little time. And though it was still far from a vacation, it was better than being stranded on a car-boat at sea.

His suspicions were confirmed by plenty of old world signage that this was the main island of what was once the archipelago state of Hawaii. He had educated himself well on old world geography and had some idea of what life had been like here, but he could clearly see that just like Las Vistas, there were significant changes. Many palms which would have previously been as tall as fifty feet grew to three and four times the height, and most branched off into more than one trunk. While there were flora of old world sizes, plenty were large enough to fit even two of him in for a comfortable sit.

But as he encountered mutes along the way, he was met with much the same welcome as the ones on the beach. They quickly made it clear that his help was both unneeded and unwanted, and that he should look for help from mutes closer to his own species. This place was more segregated than what Las Vistas used to be. Some of the mega fauna were even worse than Las Vistas’s fair as well. His encounter with a mega centipede, which had a head with snapping jaws on both ends and a row of sharp, two rows of spindly legs along its sides, one row facing down along the bottom and the other inverted on the top, would be relived in his nightmares to come, he was certain.

At what was probably mile eight or nine of the hike, Hugo’s sleeplessness was really starting to catch up with him, and while the hotdogs helped hunger-wise, Explosion Berry was beginning to become less and less efficient at quenching his thirst. This was when he began seriously seeking water and shelter.

He pressed on for about two more miles, searching high and low for any kind of resources. He managed to find a couple of pineapples growing in the shade of some underbrush, which he took for later use. Soon after that, he caught a strange scent in the air that greatly reminded him of human industry. Or perhaps another mute. He had recalled the Scooter Skunks having produced a similar aroma when motoring by. Either way, it could mean shelter.

Hugo didn’t have to walk far before he caught a bright blue spot through the trees. He sighed in relief, “Water! Finally!”

Forgetting his fatigue, he ran on all fours to the beautifully gleaming lake, only stopping at the top of the slightly elevated hill it sat atop of.

He laughed with shrill delight at the vision of the brightest aquamarine he had ever witnessed in his life, “HELLO, GORGEOUS!” He continued without a thought in the world other than quenching his now raging thirst. Completely forgotten was what now should have been an unbearable smell of rotting eggs as he neared the electric shoreline, which was completely devoid of one bit of the dense plant life he had previously been trudging through.

And by the time he had even noticed his own labored breathing and feeling of lightheadedness, he felt a strong grip on his arm that spun him around just as he blacked out and collapsed. Through the haze, he registered something being forced over his mouth and nose, and when his eyes opened one final time before unconsciousness overtook him, peaking through the hood of a large cloak he caught sight of a red and blue muzzle.

#kataow #scarlemagne #hugo oak #kipo and the age of wonderbeasts #kipo

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9w1ft · 5 years

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this post is for any swiftie who is on the fence about this, or anyone who has heard about kaylor for the first time. please allow me a few minutes of your time.. pretty please with a cherry on top? i see you. ready to scroll past this. please. in this moment. please. give it a read. two years ago i was right where you were. please look this time. it is so important to what is going on now and taylor needs you to understand fully about scooter.

we are at a turning point. taylor’s life’s work was just bought up by scooter braun and it is important for everyone to read this perspective because as swifties we have to understand the full gravity of the situation in order to best defend taylor against her worst nightmare. you may think the kimye situation is terrible enough, but add to it this:

Scooter has been a manager for a one joshua kushner for the better part of this decade. as in, the brother of the guy who is running major arms of our whitehouse without qualification. scooter’s job is to improve his client’s image as it relates to securing foreign investments as josh is a uh.... ‘venture capitalist’ in charge of investing his family’s assets. if you’ve been looking into scooter, go ahead and look into him too.

josh started being seen with then 19 year old (think about that) rising star karlie kloss. considering the amount of push in tabloids that this otherwise nobody started getting, these two are easily identifiable as a PR relationship. he does work with many overseas investors, and karlie helps bring them in where josh alone cannot (please take the time to look up about PR relationships and how common they are. also look up ‘bearding’ and how common it is to set up a PR relationship so that a manager can better mask who a client loves, should that be problematic to a target demographic)

taylor and karlie were formally introduced to one another at the end of 2013. they became best best friends. inseparable. seen together everywhere. anytime they are together their happiness is palpable.

did you know there was a slice of pavement in new york city by where karlie lives with the initials TS♡KK engraved? they were thick as thieves!

i am not going to ask you to believe taylor and karlie dated one another. and if you believe that, i’m not going to ask you to believe they are still together. as for the first point, well, the visual history between them (and between taylor and other women integral to her life story) is overwhelming and if you would like to look at what i feel are the most straightforward stuff browse my blog @kaylorwelcomecenter and beyond.

but i digress. let’s assume taylor and karlie were just best best friends, then

...well, okay, they got caught kissing (we think that’s what Dancing With Our Hands Tied is about). but let’s say they were drunk? regardless, the smiles don’t lie—i think it goes without saying that taylor and karlie were important to one another. karlie influenced taylor to stay in new york, for example, instead of moving to london. karlie changed the trajectory of taylor’s life.

and you know they meant the world to one another because of songs with specific lyrics pointing to that like You Are In Love (taylor had an instagram post of her and karlie road tripping at big sur with the caption ‘on the way home’), and on reputation with songs like King Of My Heart (‘drinking beer out of plastic cups’ ... google “taylor swift beer” and see what photos come up), and Dress (watch her perform it with karlie watching, as she sings “i don’t want you like a best friend”).

karlie signed with scooter and in 2016 trump assumed office. jared kushner suddenly represents our nation. from then til now karlie has grown further and further distant from taylor as her relationship with jared’s brother continues.

that pavement? construction happened and the TS was mysteriously cut out and replaced with a J along with the freshly laid concrete.

rep tour starts and includes the song “don’t take the money” by jack antonoff in the preshow playlist. please listen to that song.

karlie announces her engagement to josh and the very next concert taylor sings Curious with hayley kiyoko and is in charge of the line “calling me up so late at night are we just friends? say you wanted me but you’re sleeping with him.”

the only time they are seen in public is at the nashville concert in august, and there is a photo of karlie celebrating her bachelorette with her sisters. strange that the same ambience of the photo down to the curly pink straw was replicated in You Need To Calm Down. karlie’s straw says ‘bride’ while taylor chose the word ‘lover’

after passing through karlie’s hometown, taylor sang “Speak Now” and was shaking with electricity in her delivery.

taylor comes out as a democrat. says something compelled her in the past two years to start speaking out.

karlie and josh suddenly hold a surprise wedding (coordinated by scooter’s team) while taylor is en route to australia. i say surprise because it came out of nowhere, (wouldn’t you say it took taylor by surprise?) had close to nobody documented in attendance, and the tabloid articles pushed it constantly during the bad press the kushners were getting in conjunction to ... world events involving a us citizen that was a member of the press...

taylor lands in oceania and sings I Knew You Were Trouble and slips in a firey “and the saddest fear comes creeping in that she never loved me”

on the very last night of the rep tour, a kaylor sign (representing the pavement mark) gets put up on the big screen as taylor sings “you belong with me” and bows in front of it.

in between then and the lover announcement, taylor all but confirms that half of one of the reputation concept photos is a collage of her and karlie’s eyes. ...i mean, she even encircled which eye is hers on the lover album cover 😂

because their first wedding was such a drag, karlie and josh held a ‘bigger reception,’ also coordinated by scooter’s team, and they had the audacity to give out shots of patrón as party favors 😡 taylor is not in attendance.

now scooter buys her music??

not only is this guy responsible for bad behavior surrounding kimye, he also has orchestrated the obliteration of one of the foundational relationships of taylor’s life. whether it was platonic or more than that, i don’t want to waste my time convincing you because either way, hearing scooter’s name makes taylor cry. and i am a thousand three hundred percent positive that it isn’t just about bullying surrounding kimye.

think about that. think on it.

we need to support taylor (and god am i worried about karlie in her own right!) and it goes beyond the kimye drama because this man and his client are predatory and downright creepy. and given the political connection? dangerous. they ruined her reputation and took away her best friend. literally took her name out of the pavement and ‘married’ her friend off in the eyes of the public. this goes far f*ing beyond bad management practices. this is so unforgivable.

and i cannot stand for people jumping in the comments telling us we are all delusional. honest to god i thought this was all ‘a reach’ two years ago. i was there. but i gave things the benefit of the doubt and i looked into it. i did my research on the music industry, and on hollywood and PR relationships. taylor wanted us to get political, right? please take this a step further if you already haven’t and look into the structures that control our society. taylor is dropping easter eggs for us, right? we need to look for clues. taylor is drawing attention to LGBT issues, right? look at the intersection of that and the music industry, suspend disbelief for one instant and imagine if taylor herself was gay, what her relationship with karlie may have meant to her, and how it was torn apart, at the very hands of the men who took over her music.

i am being serious. people calling us delusional might like to tout themselves as being sane or more in touch with the world, but they are literally sticking their heads in the sand on this one and turning a blind eye on something that is so cutting for taylor... now and over the course of her whole career. and each and every one of them best get off anon and stick a name to their words and proudly stick a pin to their comments, and @ taylor (i am dead serious. at your words to @taylorswift) if they are oh so confident, because when this blows open they’ll be on the wrong side of history on this one and i want them to know it and own it and learn from it. because this a huge life lesson and we are poised to take what we learn and give back to our idol by defending her in full force and it’s harder to fight when you’re sitting on your hands.. what role are you going to play? please... make the jump.

#kaylor #taylor swift #lover #ts7

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thewidowstanton · 3 years

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Josie Stone: costumier

Costumier Josie Stone was born in London and lived and worked there most of her life but is now based in Rochester in Kent. She’s been in the business “going back to the Flower Power days of the sixties” in London’s King’s Road, and worked for a lot of up-and-coming pop groups, selling clothes to Tommy Roberts’ Kleptomania in Carnaby Street. She made fashion samples for designers Paddy Campbell and Katherine Cusack, and one Christmas Liberty’s department store had windows showcasing Cusack’s dresses – including one for Diana, Princess of Wales – all of which Josie had made. She also created samples for adverts in the boutique Medusa near Sloane Square.

Later Josie moved into the entertainment industry, making outfits for both the children’s and adults’ Royal Variety Performances, as well as doing TV work for the Des O’Connor Show, the Michael Barrymore Show, the Lesley Garrett and Frank Skinner shows, TFI Friday and for organisations such as Butlins and Bassline Circus. She’s made costumes for shows on cruise ships and for films such as Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again, and has made those for Thursford Christmas Spectacular for many years. Even though Thursford always credits her work, her considerable contribution to the industry has largely gone unrecognised.

She is performer Becky [Rebecca] Burford’s mother, and her son-in-law is stunt man Andrew Burford. The Widow’s Liz Arratoon has always regarded costumes as a vital part of any show and was delighted when Josie agreed to chat about her impressive – and lengthy – career.

The Widow Stanton: Have you always loved clothes and fashion? Josie Stone: It was always in me. I was one of these kids that when my mother and father bought me a sewing machine I made all my dolls’ clothes.

Was this skill in your family background? No, my mum was very good at sewing… very good. But no they didn’t do this. My father was a printer. I learnt a lot at school and a lot from my mum. I didn’t go to college; we had lessons at school for making… millinery classes and also sewing classes.

That’s amazing! We had sewing classes at school but we never learnt anything worthwhile. How did you start out actually working in the industry? I left school and went to a couple of places making shirts but that didn’t last long. Then I met up with this guy who had his workroom above Tesco’s in Victoria. He was very keen to start making… it was like Flower Power days but you couldn’t buy shirts and trousers and things like that for the pop groups. Those sort of things just weren’t around. So I went to work with him. It was a rented flat he lived in and we were all working in there making these things. Then he suddenly got this place down King’s Road in Chelsea called The Potato Shop; on the corner in World’s End. At the time Granny Takes a Trip was just down the road from us, with this American car sticking out the window that appeared to crash through on to the step. It was great! I mean good fun, great fun!

Do you design as well as make? No, I don’t design. I get a drawing and that’s it. It depends on who the designer is… sometimes you get ‘I want that at the bottom, I want the skirt to look like that and the top to look like that’.

Can you remember any of the pop groups you worked for? [Laughs] No! You’re talking a lot of years ago, lots of years ago. It was any group that was starting out in that industry and they had nowhere to buy their things. We would buy Indian bedspreads and make them into kaftans, sailors’ trousers, dyeing them all different colours and altering them, and frilly shirts that would be sold to the antique market at the Sloane Square end of the King’s Road, near the town hall. We had one floor in The Potato Shop and there were crazy carryings on downstairs in the basement. We didn’t really know what it was all about but it was a bit naughty. One night we sneaked back into the place and worked all night so this guy could get his order out.

We always hear about the Swinging Sixties… how much fun was it? Oh, King’s Road was lovely. Beautiful, beautiful. It was a wonderful place to be in the sixties with all the Flower Power, then the punks. It was great fun; it was wonderful fun. It was all unknown to me; it was all new and that was the start of me getting into that type of work. My dad worked just off of Carnaby Street and he got us work from Kleptomania, a big, big place where all the pop groups used to go. We’d be making more kaftans and shirts with frills all down the sides and the centre. There still weren’t many shops around that were selling that type of thing. Tommy Roberts would sell to people like Jimi Hendrix and The Who. It was just fun. [Laughs] I was a single girl having great fun going from one place to the next, really.

After that I worked in a boutique called Medusa. I was downstairs making samples all the time. I didn’t used to do much production. Mainly I’d make a sample up and then if they liked it it would go off to wherever, to a factory or somewhere like that to do production. Medusa was a swinging place, it was in a little alleyway off the King’s Road next to Sainsbury’s. I believe it was called Elystan Place. It was an up-and-coming boutique. That was at the time when Zandra Rhodes was big, and those sort of people. One time we made some samples for Apple Records, the Beatles’ label, but it never came to anything.

What was the best part of your life then? I was young and having fun and it was all the unknown. I lived then in Wandsworth Road with my parents, and these were all Chelsea people and they were different, completely different to the life I’d led, and it was just really way out, anything went. It didn’t matter what you wore, anything went. And I loved my job. I’d work any hours because I loved it. I didn’t always like the places, I’d go from job to job, but I did love my work and I then started having my own workroom. I decided I’d work from home. I worked with a friend from my first mother-in-law’s house and we were still doing the kaftans… a guy used to pull up in this black cab that was all painted with psychedelic patterns. It was at Tulse Hill – they were very quiet there – and the neighbours used to look in absolute amazement at everything going on. But we loved it, my mother-in-law loved it and it was good fun.

So, let’s jump ahead, how did the Liberty’s window display come about? I worked for somebody called Katherine Cusack. That was just when Rebecca was born and I was working from home. I think Katherine advertised in The Stage and she wanted to start doing semi-couture work. I’d make her samples and then she’d have a party and invite all these quite wealthy people to her lounge. It was a beautiful Edwardian house in Grafton Square in Clapham Common. Then she managed to get into Liberty’s and that Christmas the whole front had all the dresses that I’d made.

Which of Lady Di’s dresses did you make? It was a beautiful silk velvet in a beautiful deep blue. It had long sleeves and rouleau loops with little buttons all the way down. I think Di went into Liberty’s and bought it. I believe she was photographed wearing it for The Lady. Katherine was over the moon. But it was real pain to make because silk velvet takes its own route. It’s not the easiest of fabrics to work on because it’s so soft. It is beautiful but it’s not easy to make. You’ve go to have the right feed on your machine otherwise when you’re joining the seams up you’ll lose it and it will be longer one end. Josie! That dress was later auctioned for thousands and thousands! £48,000, I believe.

How did you make the move into showbusiness? I moved into that when Rebecca started at Sylvia Young’s. They used to put on shows all the time because it’s a theatre school and I started making costumes. Then I went on to doing the children’s Royal Variety.

Is that how you got on to the adults’ Royal Variety Performance? I’d got into a workroom at Acton doing samples for someone I met on the children’s Royal Variety. Then I went into my own workroom at Acton and I used to help her out. Various different designers got my name and we took on the work. That’s how we gradually started doing all the shows. She didn’t want to go on the shows so I used to go to the studios or anywhere where the work was and I’d fit the costumes and then come back and we’d finish them, but she stayed in the workroom to do whatever needed to be done there.

Can you tell us about any really nice celebs you worked with? Oh God, who haven’t I met? [Laughs] I worked on the Royal Variety for years with a wonderful designer called Linda Martin. That’s years and years so that’s one helluva lot of people I’ve met. Des O’Connor was sweet. He was lovely, lovely, absolutely charming and so was his wife. We used to do a lunchtime show with him. I did that for a lot of years. Michael Barrymore was also lovely. I was really upset when he went off the scene because he was a nice guy.

Does anyone else stand out? There’s very few that weren’t nice. They were all very nice. No one was horrible. I worked on Michael Barrymore’s show at Wimbledon Theatre and there were so many celebs on it that they had to share dressing rooms. This one particular share was with Warren Mitchell and Chris Eubank. And Warren Mitchell didn’t want to share with Chris Eubank at all. At the time Chris Eubank had this electric scooter that he would go all round the corridors on it. I could understand Warren Mitchell not wanting to share with him because he was a bit wild at this point. He’s the only one I can say wasn’t very pleasant, but I think it was because he was unhappy about sharing because he and Chris were complete opposites.

Do you know how many years you’ve done Thursford for? If we go this time, probably 20 years. The designer I work with there is Stephen Adnitt; he was Cilla’s designer. I worked with Linda Martin for 12 or 13 years doing Thursford. I’d never met Stephen, I knew of him, and he asked me to join his team. The designer gets the job and they’ll have a team and usually they keep that same team all the time. I’ve worked with him for eight years.

How many costumes might be involved in its Christmas show? We have to dress everybody at Thursford, even the orchestra. So you have 56 singers, 23 dancers and almost two full orchestras.

So when would you start to plan something like that? We – I work with Rita Best – would start end of May, beginning of June. Our designs would come in before then. We’d measure people and make the costumes and fit them in September. There are probably eight or nine sets of costumes to make. It’s enormous! Enormous. It’s the biggest show I think in Europe. We’d spend three weeks in Norfolk just making sure that it all works on the set; making sure that sequins don’t come off – I mean it’s covered, absolutely covered in sequins – and we’ll be sitting for hours and hours sticking them on. But again, we love it. We’d see the rehearsals and the preview and the day the show starts we’d come home. Our job was done. When I was working for Linda there, I’d be there working late at night. That didn’t happen so much with Stephen. He’d be like: “We’ve got to finish now.”

You mentioned doing millinery at school so do you do headdresses and that sort of thing? No, I would have liked to have done but for Thursford we have a milliner who comes with us; Shirley Davis, who has also been in the business a very long time.

What advice would you give to someone wanting to follow in your footsteps? Get into a workroom and learn how it goes. Learn how people work because what they learn at college is not how a workroom works. And really to earn any money at it, you’ve got to have a bit of speed on the machine. You can’t hang about. You can’t take a week or two or three weeks to make something. It’s nice if they can get into a workroom and see it first hand. I mean I get my work through various designers that I’ve known over the years or another maker who will ring me up completely out of the blue. Last week I helped someone out on a film. I’ll work on anything that needs a costume. I did Red or Black? at Wembley Arena, a game show developed by Simon Cowell. You could win a £1 million. It was massive. I worked with another designer called Scott Landridge, who did the children’s TV series The Worst Witch, the TV series Mile High and the sitcom Citizen Khan.

Have you had any costume disasters? Not really. [Laughs] I’ve had a lot of late nights or working all night to finish a costume off. You get the occasional broken strap and you have to quickly run down to the stage or on to the set and pin them up, or something doesn’t fit when they arrive. But no major disasters.

Have you been doing anything during the lockdown? Just before the lockdown we had all these shows on cruise ships lined up but that all went. At first I was making scrubs for the hospitals. I did loads of voluntary work for anyone who needed them. Sometimes they gave me the material and sometimes I’d provide it. They were using all kinds of material in the end, even bedspreads. I did that for a while and I also made these little pairs of hearts. They were to send to hospices and hospitals so the patient could have one to hold and the family would have the other one. I made them out of all the material I have here. I also did masks, but I’m not doing so many now.

Do you ever think about retiring? No! [Laughs] I love what I do. But the work will get less and less and that will be it. I mean we’ve had hardly anything this year. We did a few bits for Butlins and a big Dame’s costume, which I don’t think ever got used because that show was cut.

Can you pick out a few career highlights? I loved working on the Royal Variety at the Royal Albert Hall. I loved doing it in there. I did that quite a few times. Beautiful, beautiful. It’s a beautiful building and it’s just lovely to work in. If you look back at all the names that have been on the Royal and I did it for more than twenty years, there are a hell of a lot of names I’ve met. And that was quite fun.

Josie is hoping that Thursford Christmas Spectacular in Thursford, Norfolk will go ahead this year. If so, it will run from 9 November – 23 December 2021 at 2pm and 7pm.

In the meantime she can be contacted on 07956 832261 for commissions.

For Thursford tickets click here

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#josie stone #costumier #kleptomania #tommy roberts #swinging sixties #king's road #granny takes a trip #thursford christmas spectacular #royal variety performance #Becky Burford #andrew burford #diana princess of wales #Katherine Cusack #Scott Landridge #shirley davis #linda martin #rita best #stephen adnitt

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yyxgin · 3 years

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have 😡 you 😡 had 😡 your 😡 first 😡 day 😡 yet

bar i thought i told you i was a libra 😭 oh well we can have it here officially 🥺 yesterday my manager pointed out that the barman is a libra and we were having a giggle at his expense about his new hair and how she thinks he thinks he’s impressing the girls (i don’t think he does but we move) bc we all talk to him (she was in a good mood) n i saw him today from a distance (i took a couple of my friends to try the food on my day off) n wow he’s so cute i wanna squish (i also accidentally sprayed cleaner sanitizer in his mouf yesterday 😩 he fuckin coughed and i was like OH MY GOD DID I— IM SORRY OH GOD)

no bar… bar, oh god, oh fuck… oh my god im so, so down bad it’s almost illegal.

i have to explain my next train of thoughts so here goes: my driving instructor rang me while i was out today and told me he isn’t going on holiday (awh) so i can use his car for my driving test (yay) unless he books a country on the green list that’s relatively cheap for short notice but he would still help me find an instructor who’s car i could use if he manages to get a holiday (yay for me and him). the next part of the story is now im thinking shit i gotta start saving my money and stop spending it on drinks bc then i can buy a car n insurance n stop worrying about missing the g o d d a m n bus! and then my next train of thoughts happens when me and my friends were walking back through our home town through the dodgy area that thé barman lives in after catching the train home and i was just thinking about how i can give him a lift home legit every day bc we both going to the same place and it’s like a two minute drive away from my house… my thoughts be going wild i have more than enough motivation to save my money now

i offered to stomp on a girl who argued w my supervisor (supervisor got sent to a different branch bc they have a lack of staff n one of their staff is supposedly moving n joining our branch) and i was v serious. my airforces are good for stomping people. i’m from the ghetto (compared to the other girls) and i will squish this girl like a fly if she were to come to our branch n disrespect literally anyone on site 💗 my supervisor threatened to get me on one of the other girls as a joke afterwards bc she came back for a day to get some stuff n go back… i think i made it 🤩 then i offered we get the barman to run her over w his electric scooter (this convo sounds familiar, have i already told you?) i’m so giddy right now as i went through a real-time realisation literally minutes ago.

i also think i made one of my friends mad bc i friend zoned him (i think???? i mean i called him bestie n he stopped talking to me 😅😭) this is how i find out about all the boys who have crushes on me. i’m so frickin oblivious you basically have to tell me you like me i’m AWFUL for things like this n i always feel bad afterwards bc i don’t see what i’m doing until it’s too late. btw this is the same friend i thought i made a dick appt w n we just went drinkin instead. my head rn is spinning. i don’t know what else to say?? i’m laughing so much at myself i’m so stupid sometimes 😭 oh well coochie go 🦋🦋🦋🦋💕🦋💕🦋💕🦋🦋 over muster jungkook instead n call it a day ~🌻

I CAN NOW PROUDLY SAY I DID HAVE MY FIRST DAY TODAY 🎉🎉🎉it was kind of weird ngl but at the same time it was okay so me happy ??

ALSO YES I REMEMBER NOW 😭😭 WE ACTUALLY DID ESTABLISH THAY U ARE A LIBRA I JUST FORGOT FOR A SEC. crying why are the two of you so cute you are so in love i cant 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 my new otp also how did u manage to spray a sanitizer into his mouth thats-

aaah i hope you pass your driving test !! i actually went to learn to drive w my dad for the first time today and it didnt go as bad as i thought. he even told me i did a good job so i am feeling very satified even tho i ran over a tire and scraped the bottom of the car a lil but oh well he should have expected that.

XHSJSK i actually friendzoned one (1) !! guy before and it felt weird. i was 15 and he didnt even talk to me irl even tho we were literally classmates and i was lowkey a lil bullied and he confessed to me over facebook messenger🥰🥰 also i kind of "friendzoned" a guy or so i thought the moment he asked for my german homework and when i said no he acts like he doesnt know me now in the school halls so thats fun too. good to know what i was worth of !!! 🥰🤩 also he is now into my best friend insecurities go brrrr

are we talking about black hair all tattoos out jungkook bc if so then same bestie, same.

#💌ask #🌻 anon

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kyouryokusenshi · 5 years

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Hotel California

My MUCH MUCH belated 50 states fic has arrived.

Summary: Mulder and Scully stay in a swanky California hotel in the Bay Area. Set sometime after Plus One, but before Rm9. “A Map of Us: 50 States of Sex” challenge by @viceversawrites and @softnow

Tagging some other folks: @baronessblixen @danceswithcybermen @kikocrystalball @cultureisdarkbeer @fragilevixenfic @suitablyaggrieved @today-in-fic

A/N: I am soooo sorry it took this long for me to get this out. I’ve been in a major writing rut and life has just been crazy. As you may have guessed, the title was inspired by the song Hotel California. I also don’t own any rights to it, of course. :)

Shedding her coat was one of the first things Scully had done upon exiting the plane at SFO. The tight proximity of the plane cabin on the six-hour non-stop flight had her feeling nauseous and claustrophobic in addition to her usual airborne anxiety.

“You alright, Scully?” Mulder asked as he gently palmed her shoulder.

She could feel his gaze soaking up the entirety of her, carefully analyzing in case he found her answer less than satisfactory.

Scully regarded him carefully as he smoothed a lock of stray hair behind her shoulder while they waited for their luggage. She opened her mouth as she considered her words.

“I, uh...hot flashes,” she let out a chuckle. “I guess I should give up and join the AARP club.”

Mulder shook his head as he placed his hand on the small of her back. “Well, at least, I’ll no longer be flying solo in that club.”

Scully looked at him in shock. “Wow, you never fail to surprise me, Mulder.”

“Hey,” he rebuked. “Sooner or later, we’re gonna retire, remember? Those discounts will come in handy. May as well start saving now. I’ve been out of work for over a decade, remember?”

Scully smiled. “You have a valid point.” She couldn’t help but admit that this new frugal Mulder was turning her on.

“Well, what can I say, those online couponing groups are also pretty useful.”

“I must admit,” Scully started as they reached for their luggage as it came along on the conveyor belt, “I’m excited to see this swanky hotel you put us up in and how on Earth you managed to get it by Skinner.”

Mulder smiled. “I was taking more of an ‘act now and ask questions later’ approach.”

“Oh, Mulder,” Scully sighed, resigned. “I guess some things never change- which is oddly comforting.”

“Just think of it as a belated birthday gift, courtesy of yours truly, the Hoover Building, and Big Orange.”

-----

Once they retrieved their things and walked out to the pickup area, Mulder pulled up the Uber app and requested a ride. Sure enough, a friendly driver by the name of Jose pulled up to the curb in a red Nissan Versa.

The gentleman who appeared in his mid- to late- thirties rolled down the window. “Bob?”

“Yes,” Mulder remarked quickly before the younger man hopped out of the car to assist them with their luggage.

Mulder exchanged a quick glance over at Scully, who was, indeed, raising her eyebrow in amusement. “Are you having an identity crisis, Mulder?”

Jose reached for their suitcases-- to which Mulder happily obliged as the driver placed them into the trunk of his car.

“You try explaining Fox for the millionth time,” he quipped, palming her shoulder as she reached for the door to the front passenger seat. “It does make for some interesting conversation.”

With Mulder in the back seat and Scully in front, they admired their coastal surroundings and bustling of the city. Several electric Bird scooters lay tossed haphazardly upon the sidewalk as they passed through some great and not so great parts of the city.

“So you’re from D.C., huh?” the driver mused from behind his shades. “What brings you out here?”

“We’re FBI Agents,” Mulder provided as the driver’s eyes went wide.

“No shit?”

“We’re not really here on business, though-- at least, not exactly. My partner here just had a birthday last week.”

“Oooh, well happy belated birthday. I must say, though, the hotel I’m taking you to is pretty swanky. You won’t be disappointed,” he said, glancing back at Scully.

“Is that so?” Scully said, catching Mulder’s gaze in the mirror.

-----

Minutes later, after some sightseeing suggestions, they pulled up in front of a highrise building that was smaller than many of the others that surrounded it. Once the driver retrieved their luggage and bid them farewell, Mulder opened the Uber app and left the guy five stars with a generous tip.

Scully happened to catch a glance at the screen. “Is Skinner paying for that, too?”

Mulder smirked as he pocketed his phone. “Go big or go home, Scully.”

She sighed as they entered the building. “Well, we’ve already come this far.”

As they entered the lobby, they were greeted with an abundance of boutique decorations that were modernized mid-century style. Scully turned to look over her shoulder at Mulder and nodded in amusement.

“Wow, Mulder, you really outdid yourself.”

“I try,” he purred, slipping his arm around her shoulders, steering them towards check-in. “I try.”

If the lobby decor was anything to go by, Scully should have been prepared for the boutique designs that had awaited them in the room. The room itself wasn’t huge, but it was clearly a recent design with a mid-century modern flair. The walls were an orange-ish red to contrast the wooden flooring. A king-sized bed lay in the middle as a large heart-shaped jacuzzi tub was just opposite of the room.

The urge to rid Mulder of his clothing right then and there was extremely tempting.

Mulder turned back towards her, clearly reading her thoughts as he closed the space between them. “Now, I know what you’re thinking, Scully; I’m thinking the same thing, but I made a dinner reservation that’s a half-hour from now. Let the anticipation build some, hmm?”

Scully startled as Mulder placed one arm around her and the other at her thigh, and in one swooping motion, she was dipped backward as his lips fell onto hers. “Oh!” She closed her eyes as she allowed him to support her weight, returning the kiss with fervor.

“Mmm,” Mulder moaned as he felt her tongue slipped between his lips. He hardened involuntarily against his slacks, brushing against her thigh in the process.

Scully moved into the kiss further, tasting him as she placed an arm around his shoulders.

Mulder reveled in the taste of her before breaking the contact. “Jesus, what you do to me, woman,” he breathed heavily.

“Who needs seafood for dinner when I can have you?” Scully rasped, a teasing glint in her eye.

“Mmm… as amazing as that sounds, Scully, the kid-sized peanuts and pretzels for the past seven hours—courtesy of the airline staff-- doesn’t quite do it for me.

“It had better not disappoint, Mulder.”

----

They somehow managed to collect themselves over the next several minutes before Mulder had called for an Uber on his phone. They were nearly running down the hall to the elevator once they realized the driver was less than a minute away already.

“Chasing Ubers can be like chasing monsters, I guess,” Mulder remarked on the elevator ride down.

Scully rolled her eyes as the door opened before rushing out into the corridor.

The trip itself wasn’t long, but a good portion of it involved them sitting in traffic as per usual in the East Bay Area according to the driver. Mulder looked over and smiled at Scully. She met his gaze and returned his smile at the driver’s choice of music and lyrics from Hotel California began to play.

“On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair

Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air

Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light

My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim

I had to stop for the night.

There she stood in the doorway;

I heard the mission bell

And I was thinking to myself

'This could be heaven or this could be Hell'

Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way

There were voices down the corridor,

I thought I heard them say

Welcome to the Hotel California

Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)”

Scully turned to look at Mulder, it finally having dawned on her the significance of this song. In her tone-deaf voice, Scully sang, softly.

“Such a lovely face. Plenty of room at the Hotel California. Any time of year, any time of year, you can find it here.”

Mulder chuckled. “I thought you couldn’t sing.”

“I can’t,” she scoffed, gazing out the window at the immaculate view of the Golden Gate Bridge and the tranquil blue waters in the distance. Her lips curved upwards, “But, it’s the Eagles, how can you not?”

Mulder looked over at her, struck suddenly by those blue depths as he often was. He leaned forward and Scully met him halfway, her lips connecting instantly with his. God, he couldn’t get enough of her.

Until recently, he didn’t want to get his hopes up that she’d want to rekindle what they’d had together for so many years. He was uncertain if the night at the St. Rachel motel was more than a desire to combat the loneliness he that plagued them both.

“Hey, don’t take it any further back there, alright?” the Uber driver warned.

A few minutes and several discarded Lime scooters along the street later, they arrived at their destination for the night; a restaurant along the Pacific Ocean's cliff. The sun had just started to set, crimson melting into the sky as the sun cast its final sheen onto the water’s surface.

Once they were inside, a busboy asked if they had a reservation, to which Mulder provided the name Bob once again.

He smirked knowingly as Scully cast him another look.

The interior of the restaurant was as fancy as the hotel Mulder had reserved; although, they were surrounded by double-paned windows instead of walls that provided a breath-catching view of the ocean outside.

“Oh, Mulder, you shouldn’t have,” she teased as they sat down.

They were just short of beating the evening rush as several people began to pour in shortly after. A server stopped by to offer a selection of wine and Scully eagerly claimed a bottle of red that the younger gentleman had boasted was local to Napa.

Mulder raised a toast to Scully before watching the way the red liquid touched her lips and the way her tongue claimed the excess as she set the glass down.

“Scully, did you know over ninety percent of the wine in the United States is produced in California?”

“Considering I spent some time in this state, I could have easily guessed,” she remarked as she took another swig of wine.

“Hey, I gotta keep you on your toes,” he retorted as he playfully lifted his eyebrows.

Scully opted for a plate of seafood pasta, with the seafood being locally sourced, as Mulder opted for prime rib.

Scully cast a glance around the spacious interior of the restaurant, looking at tables filled with people and chatter as the sky darkened outside. Mulder had rid himself of his coat and she couldn’t help but notice the scent of his cologne permeating through the air between them. He must have put it on in their mad dash to ready themselves for dinner. She wished she'd have thought to pack a small vial of perfume for this trip.

Their dinner arrived within twenty minutes, most of which was spent in silence as they admired the sunset and colorful hues of the sky outside the vast windows. Once Scully finished her food, she hoped she wouldn't have any issues keeping it down.

After they managed to finish off a bottle of wine, Mulder paid the bill, much to Scully's chagrined reluctance and they meandered their way outside to the patio, which was surprisingly empty. As the brisk air passed over them, they could see why.

Scully shivered as they gazed out at the now darkened sky, rubbing warmth into her arms. Mulder seemed to take note of this an instantly shed his coat and draped it around her before she could offer a rebuttal.

"Remember how I told you about the stars, how they're billions of years old?" Mulder mused.

Scully couldn't help but laugh at the memory. "How could I forget? At one point, I thought you were among them," she explained.

Mulder turned towards her as a moment of melancholy settled between them.

"I spent thirty minutes talking to Skinner about souls and starlight."

To her surprise, they both let out a chuckle.

"Good. Now, he can pay it forward," Mulder chuckled.

Scully didn't seem to catch on to this last statement as her gaze traveled up and down Mulder's well-tailored suit, which was snug in all the right places.

While a ways from being drunk, she was feeling euphoric effects of the buzz she had going.

"Scully?" Mulder promoted, making her realize she had been quietly staring at him for a good few minutes.

"Huh?"

"Did you want to take a little walk?"

"No, I actually think I want to go back to the hotel and, erm, make use of the facilities you paid so much for."

Mulder eyed her for a moment before nodding reluctantly.

Twenty minutes later, they were back at the hotel and Scully opened the drapes to reveal the iridescent lights of the city before them. It was a breathtaking view.

"So, I was thinking we could walk around the city tomorrow; check out Pier 39, walk around the Golden Gate Bridge or heck, take a boat ride to Alcatraz… "

"You know, Mulder," Scully interjected from the bathroom, "I just realized there's only one bed."

Mulder felt like a deer in headlights. He still wasn't quite sure where they stood, but after that case with the twins and the fact that Scully was at the house regularly, he figured it odd to be sleeping in separate rooms at this point.

He scratched his head nervously. "I, erm, well, I can… take the couch."

Mulder was wholly unprepared for what came next. Scully exited the restroom, having shed her blouse down to reveal a lacy black bra.

A shiver of anticipation passed through him at the sight. If it was cold before, the room suddenly felt extremely hot.

"I'm kidding, Mulder."

"Oh, I uh...um…"

He turned away, not wanting to make any further assumptions. They both had had plenty to drink, though most of his buzz had tapered off already.

"So...any of those sound good to you?" He asked nervously.

"Think," she mused playfully, "we can figure out something.” Her sultry tone was not lost on him.

As she moved closer, he turned toward her, feeling himself harden in response and unable to look away as his gaze traveled up and down her body.

Mulder seemed to be asking a silent question with his gaze, to which Scully responded by reaching to unbutton her skirt and allowing it to all but drop to the floor in a haphazard heap.

Mulder could feel his heartbeat quicken and thump against his chest at the sight. The next thing he knew, his hands were moving on their own accord to free himself from the confines of his pants.

As he did so, Scully crossed in front of him and playfully pushed him back onto the bed before assisting him with stripping his pants the rest of the way down.

Mulder let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding as he stared up at the intricate contemporary artwork on the ceiling. He allowed himself to be at Scully's mercy, letting her have full control over how far she wanted this to go. The next thing he knew, the warmth of her mouth enveloped his length, moving up and down, sucking him into the back of her throat with a hum.

She took her time in pleasuring him, savoring the taste of him like a popsicle.

"Oooh, I'm not going to last long at this rate, Scully," he moaned, feeling himself throb inside the sheath of her mouth.

Scully pulled back then, licking her lips and savoring the taste of him before crawling onto the bed on her hands and knees and straddling him between her legs.

As she neared, Mulder was entranced by the sight of her voluptuous breasts as if he was privileged to see them for the first time. Other than their recent encounters a few weeks back while investigating the doppelganger case, they hadn't been intimate for a few years, and it seemed like an eternity.

As Mulder reached for them, Scully's hand found his, guiding it to her chest. As she moved to unclasp her bra, Mulder’s hands were covering hers as they both worked to free her from the contraption. He could swear they seemed slightly fuller than before, but maybe it was his imagination.

Scully let out a small gasp at his touch as his fingers explored her breasts as she moved on top of him. "Oh, God," she moaned.

Mulder gently nibbled on the small bud, the sensitivity shocking Scully to her core. Gently, he released her nipple as he allowed his tongue to slowly draw circles around her areola before trailing upward to her neck and jawline.

Scully leaned forward, pressing her lips against his ear and biting down slowly, gently nibbling on his upper ear before moving downward.

Mulder slipped his free arm underneath Scully in the process and the moment his fingers touched her folds, he could immediately feel the wetness seeping between them. He pushed inside, making a come hither motion with his index finger, causing her to yelp.

"Fuck me!"

Scully bucked against him involuntarily as he moved to tease her clit.

"Happy to oblige," he moaned.

Their mouths found their way back to one another and Scully felt her walls spasming against his touch.

He removed his finger and slipped it into his mouth, savoring the sweet tang of her before offering it to her. Realizing he couldn't wait much longer, he surprised her by shifting slightly as she parted her legs and slipped inside.

"Oh, Scully," he moaned.

The feeling of him inside her was welcoming as they began to work in tandem with each thrust. Mulder's hands supported her hips as she reached out to grasp the headboard.

"Oooohh fuuuck!" she nearly screamed. In that moment, she couldn't have given a fuck less if anyone overheard them.

Mulder threw his head back as he picked up the pace. He could tell she was close as he was.

"Yes, MULDER. YES!"

As he felt himself spill inside of her, he felt her walls ripple against him before feeling her release. With a heavy sigh, Scully relaxed against him. The moment was euphoric even though everything went so fast.

Mulder moaned as Scully shifted to move beside him, her hands finding their way down his chest, her fingers taking delicate care along the way. Neither wished for the moment to end. Scully felt Mulder’s hand find its place on her lower back as she moved closer to his face, teasing him with her bottom lip until their mouths connected.

Closing his eyes, Mulder moaned into the contact, his tongue moving in sync with hers, relishing the taste of her mouth and the softness of her breasts pressing against him. Scully finally pulled back with a gasp, allowing the air to seep through her lungs as she lay on her back. It was as if she had forgotten to breathe.

Mulder smiled in spite of himself, allowing a moment to pass before he moved to sit beside Scully as they faced the opened window that overlooked the city lights.

“Talk about an afterglow,” Scully said as she rolled over onto her stomach. “Were the curtains open this whole time?”

“Yeah,” Mulder chuckled. “Good thing we’re on the top floor, huh?” he said with a chuckle.

Scully hummed as she moved to wrap herself inside the warmth of the top comforter.

“You planned all this didn’t you?”

A smile pulled at Mulder’s lips as he leaned over, brushing her hair aside as he nuzzled her neck with his nose. “Well, I am a dark wizard, Scully.”

“Mmm, is that so?” she moaned, lifting her brows suggestively as he pulled away. Their lips found one another again and they closed their eyes, savoring the moment.

Opening her eyes, Scully looked at Mulder and a sly smile tugged at her lips. “Well then, I can think of a few more things that could use some...magic,” she whispered as she lifted the comforter.

“Oh, now you’re talking,” he said suggestively as he dove under the covers with Scully squealing in delight, enjoying the contact. She could feel the heat of his mouth as it neared her center, sending a gentle shiver up her spine. Mulder’s tongue slowly began to tease her clit and she writhed underneath him as she yelped out in excitement.

“Ohhh God!”

Mulder stopped only momentarily, grinning to himself. He knew exactly what he was doing to her and how she was instantly putty in his hands. He continued diving into her warm core, savoring the taste of her.

Slowly but surely, they would make their way back to one another. It had been set into motion since they first went back to the FBI together. The stars seemed to align more perfectly than ever before as they got back to their bread and butter.

END

#50statesofsex #xfilesfanfiction #mulderandscully #smut

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