#“when you leave the washroom turn of the lights” but I swear to god I put out the light I'm 100% sure. And like she also knew I was down

[doberrrman]

I have this feeling that I have unofficial beef with my neighbor...

[timextoxhajima]

Boundary [Dana’s 700 Special]

Track: Fever - Enhypen / TiO - Zayn / Close - Nick Jonas, Tove Lo

➣ Member: my og bias owo

➣ Genre: idol! ju x stylist! [fem] reader

➣ Warnings: swear words and if you squint, some smut

➣ Word Count: i’m like 100% sure it’ll be as long as accelerate [i was wrong it’s nowhere near but whatever]

➣ A/N: Thank you for 700 followers. You are all nothing but amazing ♡

➣ Taglist: @taesty-wander-lust​ @tbzzhoe​ @suzy-rainbow​ 

He’s going to be the absolute death of me.

The thought is loud in your head, and you were almost sure you would’ve blurted it out had the filming studio been empty. Breaking Dawn was blasting from the speakers behind the MV director, experimenting with some strange angles that you’ve never seen any other MV director try with the group before. 

If you thought Reveal was dangerous, this might be worse.

“Okay! Let’s do that hook into the chorus first and we’ll see how that angle goes!”

“Breaking Dawn, I see-”

“Cut! Juyeon-” The director snorts while staring at the monitor from the camera. “That was great but um, we’ll need to rate the video if we release this one.”

Never mind. It is worse.

“Yah, Juyeon!”

“Ahh... seriously?”

“You already have enough screen time, why are you so greedy?!”

The members crowd around Juyeon and shove him playfully as the director films that part from the monitor, and brings his cellphone over to the group to see. You can barely hear the music from the phone, given how far you were standing from the filming area. 

The group of 11 burst into loud yells and frustrated groans, with Younghoon and Chanhee giving their iconic ‘OoO’ faces to Juyeon. The main man chuckles, embarrassed, and shakes his head while waving it off.

“I didn’t intend to make it so suggestive, sorry!”

“It’s alright, that was great, really!” The director assures him. “It’s just that we can’t release that without rating the MV, and you guys don’t really have that kind of reputation yet so, we won’t do that for you guys now. But anyways, can we get a 10 minute break and we’ll pick up where we left off?”

The boys celebrate in unison, Eric immediately rushing off for the washroom, some members going to the staff to ask for their phones, others going for the monitor to check their progress and the remaining approaching their stylists for appearance maintenance.

So, when Juyeon approaches you with that sly-mixed-with-shame smile, you can’t help but to shake your head at him. 

“Really? He asks you to go all out and you look like you want to eat the camera,” Pulling open your little kit, you set it on the table next to you. You pull out the comb and hairspray and start adjusting his hair again - all that dancing’s pushed some strands out of its rightful position.

“Aw, so you agree that I looked good enough?”

“What?” The pitch is higher than expected, but you hope your feigned annoyance camouflages the pinch of jealousy. “Please! The director said it’ll be rated!”

Juyeon laughs, standing with his feet a little more apart than natural for you to have easier access to his hair. 

“Well, you’re the one who did my hair and makeup. If it’s anybody to blame, wouldn’t it be you?” 

His words halt the sharp end of your comb in his hair, and you poke it into his scalp for good measure while puffing out your cheeks. He chuckles it off. 

“Excuse you, sir, Cre.Ker gave me a color palette and a set of reference pics. Ever since they cracked the code with you with Reveal, they just won’t stop with this genre of style on you.”

“I mean... I definitely prefer my current style over what they did to me in Boy.”

The memory cooks up a bunch of images in your head, and you fail to stop the giggle that runs off your tongue when you return the comb to the kit. 

“Aw, come on, that was cute,” Picking up a brow pencil, you fill in the tiny fade-out. “You were, what? 19? No reason for you to look as raunchy as you do now.”

“It’s a pity you only met me just before I become ‘raunchy’.”

“Why? I mean, ‘Juyeon’s not a good boy’ though. Raunchy’s closer to that than what you did pre-Reveal.”

“I meant it!” Juyeon widens his eyes and his brows shift up his forehead just as the tip of the brow pencil lifts off his skin. “I’m happy Cre.Ker’s letting us show what we want to.”

“And I’m happy for you too,” You finish up on his foundation where it’s starting to wear off. “But one day, you’re gonna cross a line and break some hearts.”

Juyeon smiles as you cap on all your equipment and close your kit. Resting one hand on your hip, you quickly give his hair one last poke before he resumes his normal standing position.

“What if I only want to break specific hearts though?”

A frown befalls your face and you forge an ugly look by crooking your lips. “What? Was that an attempt to flirt? Please stop,” Waving him off, you turn and pick up your kit, walking away on your heels as Juyeon tails you.

He’s just practising flirting on me at this point. Best friends and best friends for what? Get MY heart broken? PLEASE.

“Flirt with Kevin if you want, he’ll give you better advice,” You turn to the film area and sure enough, Kevin was busy twerking into the camera and Changmin’s just face palming himself. 

“Oi Kevin! Stahb it!” You yell across the space and Changmin points to you, turning to yell at Kevin.

“Yah, even y/n’s telling you to stop!”

Chuckling, you turn into the dressing room as another hair stylist finishes with Sangyeon in the mirror. 

“Hello sir, you look kinda tired today, are you resting well?”

“Don’t get me started. Schedule’s packed into June,” Sangyeon subtly shakes his head, but his stylist holds his cheeks and shifts his face back to face the mirror.

“Sangyeon, please face the mirror. It’s not my fault if your hair gets messed up again,” The hair stylist grins as he picks up the hairspray.

“Sorry,” Sangyeon blinks at him and purses his lips. Juyeon crashes into the two seater-sofa in the corner of the dressing room and groans tiresomely, resting his head on the top surface of the headrest. 

“Well, you should get some rest before Kingdom kicks in,” You place the kit on the dressing table and sit down in the two-seater next to Juyeon. “It’s not going to be an easy fight, y’know.”

“Right! You used to be ATEEZ’s hairstylist!” Sangyeon’s eyes widen and you can see him struggling not to turn to you directly instead of trying to find you in the strangest angle of the reflection in the mirror. 

“Yeah. Those guys are intense, and I mean intense! Six out of eight are known for performance skills and the other two... one produces 99% of their tracks and the other belts out notes even I can’t reach.”

“You sound like you were sent from KQ to intimidate us-” Sunwoo struts in and waves an annoying finger in your face.

“I’m not-” Swatting his finger away, Juyeon leans forward and pulls Sunwoo’s hand. “I’m just saying for good measure- it’s not going to be easy. Stray Kids is also going to be great competition, not to mention iKON and-”

“AhHH, we get it!” Sunwoo shushes you, swinging his hand with Juyeon’s.

“No matter the outcome, you all need to know that you guys were stellar last year. I was new then, but it was absolutely stunning to watch you guys work and put so much effort into your performances.”

“Oh my God, yeah, you could not shut up about the Danger performance,” Sangyeon cooes, letting his stylist finally finishes and shifts to pack the hair equipment. 

“I’ll bet it’s cause your best friend over here got the most screen time,” Sunwoo perks up a mischievous brow and smirks at you.

Juyeon’s eyes widen and stares at the youngest, “I didn’t get the most screen time.”

“If not you then who?” Sangyeon butts in as he stands.

“Uh... Changmin?”

Sunwoo and Sangyeon go quiet. 

“Yah, you had a good amount of screen time too!” Sangyeon turns and blurts out at Sunwoo, playfully shoving him. 

“Y’all are being loud in here,” Kevin’s head pops out from beyond the door frame, one of his stylists tagging behind him and struggling to pat down his clothes. 

“No, tell me if Sunwoo had more screentime than Changmin in Danger from last year,” Sangyeon wraps an arm around Sunwoo and slowly walks him out. 

“What? I don’t know, Changmin had the opening and the dance break...”

Sangyeon’s hairstylist follows closely, and by instinct, he shuts the door behind him, leaving you with Juyeon in the dressing room. It’s humid, from all the lights turned on in the room, and the leather seat wasn’t the most comfortable thing to sit on.

Turning to Juyeon, his eyes are gently shut, and frankly, he looked like he was about to fall asleep. The backrest of the sofa sinks when you lean back, mimicking his position.

“You have like four minutes left so don’t even think of falling asleep.”

“I’m not sleeping,” He offers a tiny smile on his lips, eyes still shut. 

“Sure, you’re not.”

“Wake me up when the director needs me.”

“You wish,” The leather under your legs squeak when you push yourself off, but he sticks out an arm at your stomach and pushes you back down. Judging by the miniscule smirk on his face, he’s just messing with you. “What do you think you’re doing? I have a job to do and you have a music video to film.”

He remains quiet. Someone shouts at Eric outside.

“You’re being fucking weird today, sir,” You lift a hand and grab his arm to move it away, but he swiftly wraps his fingers around your wrist and yanks you forward instead. 

Using your palms to keep the distance between your faces, you’re hovering above him now, breath on his upper lip. The sweat’s begun to collect in the lines of your palms, stuck to the arm rest by his side and the cushion he’s leaning on. 

Your vision immediately darts to his face upon the bold move, and he’s got that slight smile prancing on his lips when he’s thinking of a joke or something funny and doesn’t want to say it. It’s been a good year of being Juyeon’s best friend (apart from the members), so you’ve definitely grown to know how to read him by his actions.

You sigh, rolling your eyes and removing your legs from next to his thighs.

“Juyeon-”

And then he cuts you off by holding you in position with his arm around his waist, challenging your knees to hold you up - because if they buckled, you’ll land right on top of him. 

“What the Hell do you think you’re doing?” 

Knock knock

“y/n, are you done with Juyeon’s hair? Filming’s resuming!”

There’s an awkward tension between you and Juyeon now, with his eyes wide open and staring into yours, arm still around your waist. But having his nose just inches away from yours and his breath breathing down on your philtrum feels so surreal. It feels like it’s a dream that you’ve failed to pull yourself out from.

He parts his lips, then purses them, and sighs through his nose. 

“Yeah, she’s done! I’ll be out in like, two seconds!”

Your gaze finds his and you’re panicking when he’s moving again. Within two seconds, you’re flat on your back on the length of the couch - and this time, he’s holding himself above you.

“What the- I-”

“We’ll continue this later back at the company, I promise,” Then he rounds your cheek and presses a kiss into your cheekbone instead.

He pulls back, offering you his kind smile and a ruffle into your hair for good measure. Nothing in your body is working when you hear him shuffle for the door, and it clicks shut behind him, with Breaking Dawn already blasting in the filming space.

Sucking in a deep breath, you don’t realise how hard your heart is thumping in your head until you hear your own shaky exhale. You don’t know where to look, you can still feel his grip on your waist and his breath on your upper lip, and everything’s just a mess right now.

What the Hell just happened?

“Eric - Dior Shirt Size M...” You mumble under your breath, fingers gripping the pen to the clipboard so hard, your writing would probably leave a mark in the sheet under. 

“I think this is the last luggage!” Younghoon’s stylist drags the black case in, lining it up with the last unopened one. “Need help?”

“Yeah, just open the luggage for me and separate Sangyeon’s clothes from Jacob’s, but otherwise I can handle it on my own.”

She nods, laying it down and unzipping it for the clothes to spew out. “How’s working here? It’s been over a year, right?”

“Mhm,” You glance at her, obviously tired. “It’s alright, but thanks to your advice since last year, I don’t think it could’ve been better.”

With a kind smile, she looks up at you, placing Sangyeon’s pants over his stack. “You’re experienced from ATEEZ, so it wouldn’t have been that hard anyway.”

She stands, resting her hands on her hips as you walk over, squatting to check Sangyeon and Jacob’s clothes. 

“So... what’s going on with you and Juyeon?”

I’d like to know too.

“Huh?” You look up at her, head tilted to the side with a sneaky cocked brow. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, please- All the stylists here know you and Juyeon are like- hanky panky nowadays. Pretty sure the boys know too, or at least have some idea.”

A cackle runs your throat dry as you graduate your attention to Jacob’s clothes. “Is that what they’re calling it? ‘Hanky-panky’? Cute.”

“Do you know why they’re still in a meeting this late?”

“No, why would I bother? As long as I don’t lose my job, it’s none of my concern.”

“They’re in meeting to be informed that their dating ban has been lifted.”

Your grip around the pen tightens, but halts abruptly. 

“Ah...” She sighs, contemplated with herself. “Cat got your tongue? Or should I say... Juyeon got your-”

Interrupted by the practise room door being pushed open, both of your attentions immediately flit to the new commotion. 

“Oh, Juyeon! Meeting’s over?”

“Yeah,” He turns and closes the door behind him. His hair was still waxed up from the day’s schedule, makeup still on but fading. Clothes snug around his shoulders with his belt tight around his hips. Those stupid jeans never did you any good since day 1. “Sangyeon said he left a ring in one of the luggages so he sent me to come get it while he counsels Kevin for twerking.”

“y/n’s just going through Sangyeon’s wardrobe, so she might find something,” Your colleague’s begun to take small, insignificant steps towards the door, and your anxiety begins to increase with every inch she places between the two of you.

“Which is why I’m here,” He stuffs his hands into his back pockets.

“Right, right,” Now, she’s already got her hand on the door knob, glancing past him and at you with wide, glistening eyes. “I gotta go check your wardrobe for tomorrow so... I’mma go now, and uh... security comes by around 12am. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“What-” You blurt out, receiving a sharp, surprised look from Juyeon.

“Bye! Bye Juyeon!”

“Bye,” He waves. 

“No, wait-” 

And so, the door clicks shut behind her, and her shadow behind the translucent material disappears down the corridor. 

The whir of the air-conditioner in the practice room fills all the awkward openings in the room, but all you can hear is the rapid thunk of your heart in your brain - as if that was even possible. 

Thunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunk

“About earlier today-”

“Give me a moment while I look for Sangyeon’s ring. What does it look like?” Standing up too fast, your vision goes white and a second of dizziness throws you off your balance.

So, of course, Juyeon rushes over and holds you by your waist before your ankles or knees give way. The incessant blinking makes you wish you could actually pass out right now, because your weight’s in his arms and you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye.

“Iron deficiency much?” The corner of his lips curl up into his cheek before releasing you. “Do you need to sit down?”

Clearing your throat, you turn away first. “No, I-”

“Good, because I have some points to make and you’re gonna stop running away from them like you’re doing now.”

The change in tone runs chills down your spine and goosebumps erupt all over your skin - thank god you were wearing a blazer, safe from his observation. 

“How have you tolerated it so much?” He folds his arms across his chest, tilting his head innocently but his eyes say otherwise. It’s always his eyes that tell a whole different story from the person he’s known to be. 

“Y’know, being around me but you’re so calm and collected and I just...” He shakes his head, and to your dismay, takes a step forward - which drives you backwards. “How?”

His voice is too sing-songy. It’s too calm and collected for you because you’re about to barf up your dinner, which was a good 4 hours ago now. There’s nothing left in your stomach to barf up. 

He takes another intimidating step and you wince at your inability to look him in the eye.

Another step back. 

“Like, I know we’re friends but my God-” Shaking his head, he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.

Another step forward. Another backward.

“It’s upsetting that I can look ‘raunchy’ and it doesn’t seem to do anything to you... But seeing you the way you are every other day makes me want to- just-”

Another step forward. 

One more one back.

And your breath halts.

Your back hits the wall, the rear of your skull lined with the pillar. 

Oh, no.

Gritting your teeth so tight, your jaw starts to ache and your temples are throbbing. 

“I’m not seeing things, right?” A flicker of curiosity sparkles in his eyes when you muster up the courage to look at him - only to regret it instantly. “It’s not in my head that you feel the same way I do, right?”

“I... Don’t know what you’re talking about- You’re an idol... and I’m- I’m just your stylist and I-”

“‘Just my stylist’?” The comment forces his brows into a slight frown, before he lifts his hand and covers the bottom half of his face with his palm. “Rethink what you just said.”

Sucking in a deep breath, your chest wells with a horrid mix of desire and self-discipline. Those two don’t go well together. 

“We can talk about this some other day,” You choose to say, dragging your body along the pillar in a bid to shift out from the wall-Juyeon sandwich like a fool. He lifts his arm and presses his palm into the pillar behind you, caging your poor, poor soul in this fateful corner of his stupid practice room.

“Juyeon, we need... boundaries in this industry. One scandal and it’ll destroy your career.”

“Boundaries?” He buckles his elbows, shrinking the gap between your noses. “Boundaries are for idols who still have a dating ban.”

Breathing down your nose, he’s too close for comfort. You can smell his cologne, the scent of his hair wax and see the bumps on his cheek under the faint layer of makeup. You don’t realise you’re trembling until he tilts his head ever so slightly, free hand reaching up to your chin to steady your face.

“Stop running from me,” Shaking his head painstakingly subtly, he whispers into your lips. “You were mine from the start and you know that.”

The adrenaline rush through your nerves sets off fireworks all over you when he slots his body against yours, lips fitted with yours like puzzle pieces; against the wall, with his palms on your cheeks. There was no care or consideration with how much strength he was channeling into this kiss - it feels so pent-up, so frustrated. Without warning, your body resigns as you circle your arms around his shoulders.

Gripping the rim of his collar in your hands, his hands drop to your waist and holds you closer, if it were even possible. A million thoughts race through your head - and at the same time, none. This moment was something you didn’t even know you needed. 

Juyeon’s hands roam the small of your back as he keeps you against the wall, relaxing into the kiss and sighing into it instead. 

This bliss comes in the form of him. Him who provides you all the sinful wants deep down inside you. 

But this bliss doesn’t last, for the practice room door swings open violently and tears Juyeon off you.

“I told you to find my ring, not hook up with your crush!”

[hyunsuks-beanie]

Just Fine, After All

Lee Know x reader; just Minho being a complete idiot

A/N It's Minho this time, since my man did the "Step Out" on Music Bank lmao. As always, I hope you like it!

He wasn't there. It was your graduation ceremony, and your boyfriend Minho had promised you that he'd be there, but of course, he wasn't. You couldn't blame him though, because you knew how hard he had been practicing for the comeback. And while you didn't want to pressure him to make time for you, you couldn't lie to yourself and say that it didn't hurt a little.

After the ceremony, you went back home, only to find that he wasn't back from practice yet. You decided to pay him a visit at the JYP building, knowing that he would most likely have not taken a break, even to eat. You cooked his favourite ramen and fried chicken, and went over to the company. By the time you reached there, you saw Changbin and Jisung leaving. When they noticed you, you guys exchanged hugs, with Jisung, who was also one of your closest friends, ruffling your hair and saying, "How'd the ceremony go? I'm sorry we couldn't be there, and I'm even more sorry that even Minho hyung couldn't make it. He's been practicing non-stop, and he still doesn't plan on leaving." "You're the only one who can get him to take a break, so we'll let you go ahead," smiled Changbin. You bid them bye, and started on your way to Stray Kids' practice room.

Opening the door, you see Minho practicing their title song. He didn't notice you, and you knew that he wouldn't do so until you cut the music off. So that's exactly what you did, by tiptoeing to the music system and switching it off. "Minho, come on. Take a break and eat something. I got your favourite food along," you said with a smile. At this, Minho abruptly turned towards you, but his expression wasn't one of surprise or happiness at seeing you there. Instead, he seemed pissed, and scary. "Minho-," you started, but he cut you off. "Did I ask you to come here? Did I ask you to bring me food? Did I say I need a break? Seriously Y/N stop being so nagging. If you don't have anything productive to do with your life, at least let me be productive with mine. Go write your stupid little thesis, instead of annoying me," He said, turning his back to you. It was only then that you realized that tears were already running down your face. "Well, if graduating from university counts as productive in your dictionary, then I guess I've done my share of productive today. Thanks for ruining my happiness, jerk."

With that, you placed the food near the door, and walked out. Minho rolled his eyes and started the music again. But after a while, he realized that he was not able to focus. He felt guilty for lashing out at you. It wasn't your fault that he was not able to perfect a particular step in the choreography. On the contrary, he had been the one at fault for not turning up at what was supposed to be one of the most important moments of your life. You must've been upset, but you still set it all aside and brought him food.

Deciding that he couldn't go on practicing any longer, and that he needed to be home and apologize to you, he left the company. On his way home, he noticed how bad the weather had become. Worry for you set in his heart, and he tried calling you, but you didn't pick up. "I hope Y/N is safe. Great job Minho, you made them walk back home in such bad weather."

As soon as he reached home, his heart sank, because the door was still locked. Entering inside, he quickly came to the conclusion that you weren't there, seeing as how all the lights were turned off. "Where could they be? Did they perhaps go to the dorm?" With that, he called Hyunjin up to ask him if you were there, to which, the younger boy replied, "Why would they be here? What did you do?" Jisung heard this, and snatched the phone away from his hands. "Where is Y/N, hyung? What did you do? Tell me they aren't in trouble." Minho told him what had happened, causing Jisung to say, "You screwed up big time, hyung. You should have apologized to them, and instead, you made them feel annoying and useless. And now, because of you, god knows where they are. I swear if something happens to them, I'll kill you."

"Nothing will happen to them Jisung, I promise. I know I messed up, but I'm gonna make things right." With that, Minho hung up, and grabbed his car keys again. He went to Han River, because he knew you liked going there when you needed some space. "I hope they're not out in the open. God, what have I done." Once he reached there, he quickly noticed you weren't there either, meaning he had to continue his search. The next stop was your favourite 24/7 coffee shop, but that too, turned out to be a dead end. Minho was close to losing his mind worrying about you, when suddenly, his mind cleared and he understood where he had to go.

Ten minutes later, he was back at the JYP building, and was running towards the rooftop at full speed. That was the place you had confessed to him, and the both of you held that spot very dear. Why hadn't he thought of that before? If you were upset with him, wouldn't you go to just the place where he had told you he loved you, seeking some reassurance? But when he reached there, and didn't see you anywhere, he started pulling at his hair, as tears threatened to spill. He was already crying, when he suddenly heard the voice he'd been searching for, for hours.

"Minho? What are you doing here in this weather? You'll catch a cold," you said softly. He turned around just the way he had earlier that day, and once again, his expression surprised you. Tears streaming down his face, he pulled you into the tightest hug ever, while peppering your face with soft kisses.

"Where were you baby? I was worried sick," he sobbed. "I was such a jerk to you today, and I can't tell you how sorry I am for hurting you like. You did nothing wrong except for caring too much for an idiot like me, and what did I do in return? Make you feel worthless and leave you alone in this weather. I don't know how I can ever make it up to you, but believe me, I really am sorry. Sorry for not being there for you on a special occasion. Sorry for making you feel unwanted. Sorry for being such a shitty boyfriend. I'm sorry for everything, and I swear, I don't know what I would have done had something happened to you."

You break away from the hug, and say, "It's okay Minho. I forgive you. I know you're tense about the comeback, and I completely understand you not being able to show up. But..... just, please don't lash out at me like that again for no reason. That really hurt me, because I felt that you didn't want me around. You made me feel as if I was annoying to you." "I swear, I will never treat you like that again babe. I'm sorry," he says through tears, making you wipe his cheeks before placing a soft kiss on his lips. "Let's just go home."

On your way back, Minho doesn't let go of your hand, making you smile to yourself. He suddenly asks, "I thought you'd be on the roof, but you weren't there. Where were you?" "I had gone up to the roof at first, because I just needed some reassurance that you hadn't meant what you said," you give him a weak smile. "But when the weather got bad, I came down to the practice room since I didn't have anywhere else to go, hoping that you would have gone home by now. And you had apparently left, so I decided to wait the storm out here. I was just on my way out of the washroom after I had done cleaning my face of all the tears and ruined makeup, when I saw you running up to the roof. I knew you were searching for me, so I followed you......"

"I'm so sorry I caused you so much trouble today baby, I'm so glad you're safe. I love you you," Minho said sadly.

"I love you too, Min," you squeezed his hand. "Now let's forget this ever happened, and go home and celebrate my graduation." "You read my mind Y/N, that's exactly what we're gonna do once we reach home," Minho gives you his signature smirk, making you shove his shoulder in false annoyance.

Seems like you two will be just fine, after all.

[thatshithurted8]

Introverted

Summary: JJ falls in love with the introverted Kook Pope tutors

Part two can be found here

Word Count: 2.2k

JJ Maybank wasn’t the type of person to believe in ‘love at first sight’ hell, with the way his dad treats him he doesn’t even know if he believes in love. However,JJ was left second guessing after seeing you for the first time. 

“Why can’t I just stay here when you tutor. I’ll be quiet.” The blond says to Pope as the two sat at a table in The Wreck while waiting for the Kook Pope is tutoring. 

“Cause JJ it’s you.” Pope snaps back at his friend, knowing his antics of being distracting. 

JJ rolls his eyes, “Come on man Kie is waiting tables and John B is on a date with Sarah.” 

“Go to John B’s and watch tv or have a shower or eat or even wank one out.” 

JJ crosses his arms annoyed and leans back in his chair causing it to scrape against the ground. Just as JJ was about to get up and leave his eyes land on you walking through the doors of The Wreck.

Despite Outer Banks being a small town where everyone knew everyone he has never seen you before. The blond sucks in a breath of air as he watches you look around the small restaurant and start to walk over to him and Pope. JJ could swear that there was a golden glow surrounding you as you walked. 

“Hi Pope.” You say timidly with a closed mouth smile before sitting down across from the boys and putting your bag on the chair beside you. JJ feels his heart increase just with how close you were to him and he didn’t know why. 

JJ sits back up and leans over to his friend, “Yea I’m definitely staying now.” 

After the first time JJ met you he made sure to go to every study session Pope had with you, claiming that he wanted to learn too. Pope and the rest of the Pogues knew this was a lie. It was JJ after all he didn’t care to learn and he definitely didn’t care about his grades. 

Even though the Maybank boy claimed to be listening he would discreetly admire you. JJ was so used to hook ups and one night stands that he was genuinely confused as to why he wanted to be in your presence. You were extremely shy so you didn’t talk much, but JJ made it his goal to make you laugh every chance he got during the sessions. God he loved your laugh. He also liked the way you would place the end of your pen between your lips while you focused or how your eyebrows would furrow when you were confused. 

It was only after a few study sessions when the group of Pogues started to make fun of JJ and his crush on you. JJ didn’t think much of his friends taunts, but before he fell asleep at night his mind couldn’t help, but drift back to you. As his mind would drift he JJ realized that he did like you, but his feelings towards you were stronger. The blond has had his fair amount of crushes, but none of them ever felt like this. Thinking back to the day he first met you JJ recalled how he felt when he first saw you, it was like Cupid shot him in the heart and then punched him in the face for extra measures. As JJ fell asleep he had a smile on his face, finally accepting the fact that he loves you. 

- 

“Thanks for the ride.” You say to JJ while getting into John B’s van and buckling up. 

“The pleasure is all mine sweetheart.” JJ says winking at you and pulling out of your driveway in figure eight. You blush at the nickname he gave you, but you turn to look out the window in attempt for the boy not to see what he was doing to you. 

Due to your shyness, most of the car ride to John B’s was quite quiet and JJ didn’t mind at all. He actually liked the silence when it came to you. Don’t get him wrong he loved talking to you every chance he got, but when it was silent with you it was comfortable, not awkward at all. With you he felt at peace, like the world stopped spinning and everything was quiet. Peace is what JJ desperately needed considering the mental turmoil his father puts him through. 

“You know.” JJ says tapping the steering wheel. You look over at him and secretly admire his features. God he was so beautiful. 

“I don’t get why you have Pope tutor you, you could probably tutor me better than Pope, hell you could probably even tutor him.” 

You blush at the compliment, “My parents are the type that think anything less than an A is bad. One time they made my brother sleep on the couch in the guest house because he got a B+.” 

JJ chuckles and glances at you, “How’s that a punishment? He still has a roof over his head.” He says rolling his eyes at the privilege Kooks had. You bite your lip instantly feeling bad, knowing that JJ has slept at John B’s for the past two months because he was too scared to go home. 

The blond notices you shifting uncomfortably in your seat as you two pull up to the Chateau. “You okay?” He asks, parking and turning the engine off. 

“Yea, I uh just didn’t mean to bring up....”

JJ looks at you expectantly and amused as you struggle to find the right words. “Bring up your privilege?” 

Your face goes red and you look down at your hands in your lap. Not knowing what to say you simply nod your head. JJ lets out a laugh and grabs your hand in a comforting manner, “Don’t worry Y/N. When I go full Kook one day I’m gonna flaunt my wealth the way Kim K shows off her ass.” 

You laugh at what JJ said and couldn’t help, but feel relieved that he wasn’t upset about you bringing up how different you guys’ lives are. It was refreshing that the Pogues never got offended. You could breathe around a Kook wrong and it would be world war 3. You two get out of the van and walk into the Chateau. JJ goes to the fridge and grabs a beer while you walk over to the table where Pope is situated waiting for you. 

JJ opens the microwave and puts inside a popcorn bag. He jumps and sits on the counter while waiting for his snack to cook. The Maybank boy couldn’t help, but to admire you and how engrossed you were into the school work. God you were so beautiful. 

“Earth to JJ.” Pope says turned around in his chair while waving his hand in front of JJ’s face which breaks the boy out of his trance. 

“Your popcorn is ready.” Pope says pointing towards the microwave after it beeped for the third time. 

“Oh uh yea.” JJ says, reaching over to open the microwave. He grabs the bag, but instantly bounces it between his hands before the hot bag lands on his crotch. “Ah fuck that’s hot!” He yells jumping off of the counter. You giggle at JJ’s actions which causes his heart rate to increase. 

-

Two hours go by and you still sat at the kitchen table studying with Pope. JJ made you two three dinner and it was starting to get dark. 

“Thanks for the help.” Kiara groans sarcastically as her and John B set a keg down on the floor in the middle of the Chateau. 

JJ remains sitting on the couch, eating a sandwich, “No problem Kie.” 

John B walks over to you and Pope and closes the textbooks you guys were using. You look up at the brunette confused. “Okay you guys have been studying far too long, the party is about to start.” 

“You’re staying for it right Y/N?” Kie asks. 

You gulp when everyone turns their attention to you. Being the center of attention was something you despised. “I’m not allowed to go to parties.” You say quietly, while checking your phone to see the time. 

“Aw then we can take your party virginity.” JJ says standing up and walking over to you. 

“I’m supposed to be home for 9.” You say. 

JJ stands behind you and wraps his arms around you, his head right beside yours, “Tell your parents that you guys are studying longer.” 

“Yea do that.” Pope agrees, finishing cleaning up his work.

You chew on your cheek debating on what to do as the Pogues stare at you. You wanted to spend time with JJ and the rest of the gang, but your parents were extremely strict. 

You sigh and smile at your group of friends, “Fine.” 

- 

JJ was in the middle of a conversation with a Touron when you walk back outside of the Chateau, after using the washroom. The black haired girl that was getting close to the blond, scoffs and walks away once she realizes what he was looking at. 

You looked so beautiful standing on the porch steps looking through the crowd of people for a familiar face while the moon and porch lights illuminated your figure. The lighting made you look angelic and JJ starts to feel his heart beat increase. JJ couldn’t help, but notice how out of place you looked partying with a bunch of Pogues and Tourons. Every girl attending the party was wearing short shorts and a bikini top while you wore the sun dress that you’ve been wearing all day. 

The blond watches you bite your lip as you continued to scan the crowd. Your eyes suddenly land on his and he swears he could feel the butterflies in his stomach erupt. JJ moves through the drunk teenagers and walks up the porch steps to stand beside you. 

“You okay?” He asks for the second time today.

You nod your head, but let out a yawn, “Yea, just tired.” You say, feeling drained for socially so much today. 

“Do you want to lay down?”

You simply shake your head yes, being too tired to speak. With your answer the two of you walk back into the Chateau and JJ leads you to Big Johns room, which is now his. 

The Maybank boy shuts the blinds and pulls out one of his t-shirts and a pair of boxers for you to wear. “Do you need anything else?” 

“Could I have a glass of water?” 

“Yea, get changed and I’ll be right back.” JJ says sending you a wink before leaving the room and shutting the door. You quickly get changed and make sure to text your mom, telling her that you were sleeping over at Kiara’s. You felt bad for lying, but you have never felt closer to JJ than tonight. 

A light knock is heard from the bedroom door, “Come in.”

With that being said JJ walks in with a glass of water. Since the room was dark other than the one lamp you couldn’t see the blush that was prominent on JJ’s face. Something about seeing you in his clothes he liked. He liked a lot.  “Here you go.” He says, yawning himself. 

“Thank you.” You say taking it and having a sip. “Are you tired?”

“Yea, but I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

You drink another mouthful of water and furrow your eyebrows, “You aren’t going to sleep with people coming in and out. Just sleep in here with me.” You say after swallowing the water. You couldn’t believe that you suggested that, but you were glad that you did. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes JJ.” You say with a smile while placing the glass on the night stand and getting into the bed. You didn’t need to tell JJ twice because he started to undress down to his boxers basically right away. 

You were glad that the room was quite dark so he wouldn’t see your blush after seeing him basically naked. You swore that he was part Greek God. JJ locks the door in case any drunk couples try to fuck. He then walks around to the other side of the bed and climbs in, making sure to turn off of the light before lying down. 

His breath starts to hitch as he gets comfortable under the covers. Once JJ is finally settled he notices you shivering. “Are you cold?” 

“Yea.” You say quietly while wrapping the covers around your body. 

“Here.” JJ says moving closer to you and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close to him. Your heart skips a beat, but you snuggle up to the Maybank boy, intertwining your hands.

JJ has thought about and dreamed about this moment so many times before that he couldn’t believe that it was finally happening. His thumb that was in your hand starts to rub your soft skin and your breathing begins to become labored as you fall asleep. JJ remains awake, trying to savor the moment. Even with the loud music and yelling coming from outside JJ felt at peace. 

He starts to fall asleep himself, content with the position you two were in. This is what love is supposed to feel like.

-

[serendipityjxmn]

Chapter 12

TW: None

Words Count: 1.4k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 13

The air is tense that morning. Your brows furrow, thinking that you have to share the ride with Jimin now that everyone knows he’s your husband. Nearing the car, you notice there’s unfamiliar face among Jimin’s security. He usually has two with him, one is his bodyguard and the other being his bodyguard as well as his driver. You never really get the chance to know them apart from their name, considering you’ve never shared the ride with your husband.

He doesn’t say anything through the ride, his eyes glued to his tab, no doubt reading the morning news. You stare outside through the window, lost in your own thoughts.

Once you reach the company, you stand behind your husband but Jimin looks back and grabs your hand in his, startling you. It takes you a moment to process everything but not long for you to realise it’s just for show yet you can’t help having fluttered heart, walking hand in hand in public with your husband for the first time.

Reaching your desk, Irene simply watches the two of you as he speaks several things to Mina who’s at the desk as well, but haven’t yet let go of your hand.

He turns to you then and you stiffen immediately. “See you at lunch.” He says, way too soft and you feel like punching him for how he’s making you feel. His thumb and index finger cups your jaw briefly and gently before he leaves for his room.

It’s just a show, you tell yourself.

Another cons of all this travesty, is that Irene is handing you a lot of things that require you to personally see Jimin. She seems keen to let you handle him entirely.

“What do you think about this?” Jimin’s voice echoes in the whole room.

Huh? You look at him, puzzled. Is he really asking for your opinion? “I- I don’t really know all about- umm, maybe you should ask-“

“If I need a professional’s advice I would’ve asked Jinyoung. Besides, you sat through the meeting with me as well. I need your opinion.” Jimin says firmly.

You look at him hesitantly. You honestly have no idea about business world. But since this relates slightly about art, which you might know an inkling about, you answer him. “I think it’s good if you accept Wangji Co to handle the cover. They’ve been in the industry for long yet they always have fresh ideas. Apart from that, you can ensure you have a good term with Taiwan since you have their company involved.”

He remains silent for a moment, staring at you so deeply you silently pray you’re not flushing. Then he nods. “We will be meeting one of the arts director in charge. You will accompany me.” He glances at the watch. “I’ll be done in 10 minutes.”

He simply says and you take it as a sign you’re dismissed.

You take one last look in the mirror. This is your first time going out in public with your husband. Although it is work related, you’re still nerved out. You’ve never accompanied him to any event. Irene apparently never does too. Sure enough. When you google your husband, he never seems to have pictures taken with other women.

When you head downstairs, you feel your heart skips a beat when you see your husband, dressed smartly in impeccable black suit. His ash grey hair had been styled and he looks so good looking you almost want to cry.

Jimin on the other hand though, has his brows furrowed and lips pursed when he takes in your appearance.

“What on earth are you wearing?” He asks once you’re close enough.

You gulp. You’ve searched through every dress in the huge closet in the limited time Jimin gave you and this was the most modest dress you could find. You’re wearing a long dress that has a huge slit in front from your thigh to bottom. Luckily, the slit is not high enough to reveal scars you have on your upper thigh. To make it worse, the dress has such huge cleavage opening space, you’ve tried bringing your long hair to front in an attempt to cover your cleavage as much as you can. “I- I’m only wearing what’s in the closet.”

He tongues his cheek and you swear he looks so hot. “I’ll speak with Mrs. Lee about your wardrobe,” is all he says before you’re ushered into his car.

Even by looking at his side profile, Jimin looks so stunning you can’t help but stare in awe.

“Take a picture, I think that’ll last longer.” He snaps and you look away immediately. How does he even know without even looking at you, you shake your head.

It’s a launching event as well as exhibition by the director Jimin’s supposed to meet, Mr. Choi.

He speaks with several people and you just obediently follow after him, taking notes of who they are. A while later, you feel the urge to pee but you decided to wait until the main launching event is done before excusing yourself to the washroom.

As soon as you’re done, your eyes seek your husband immediately between the rows of art and crowds of people. As you make your way through the hallway, you find yourself drawn to an art hung on the wall, illuminated with a warm light above it, further enunciating its creativity.

It’s a woman, alone and she’s sitting down hugging her knees.

Something tugs your heart and the more you stare at the painting, the more you feel your eyes are watery.

“It’s called the Isle of Sorrow.” A voice beside you says, making you jump. You turn to see Jimin, his eyes towards the painting in front the both of you.

“They say she lost her will to love again that’s why she’s wallowing in sorrow.”

“It could also be she’s unable to love the person she desires.” You hesitate but continue to say when Jimin remains silent. “The painter.. I think he’s potraying contradiction. She’s in sadness and the background should’ve highlighted that as well, maybe monochrome settings? Yet the brushes are bold and the colors the painter chose are strong. Her love.. is strong. But she can’t give it to the other person. Perhaps because she loves someone who she shouldn’t, like an irony the life is.” You finish. Seconds later, your eyes widen and you bit your lip. What on earth did you just say?

A heavy silence sets between the two of you in the midst of casual conversations and regular laughter heard in the hall.

“Didn’t know you’re into art.” He says after several moments.

You only smile sadly. You don’t know a lot of things about me.

“I think art’s fascinating. I like when I can have control on it. What it can become. How it turns out. I don’t have a lot of it, growing up.” You say softly.

Jimin looks at you. “A lot of what?”

Your eyes find him too and you both lock gazes briefly. “Chance to change things.”

He holds your gaze steady before you look down first. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to hold his gaze for a long time, it’s hard enough to breathe as it is with him around.

“Me too.” He says quietly and you slowly look at him again. You notice his eyes has sorrow in it too, like the ones reflected in the painting before you. “I’ve always had to live the path set for me. Kinda funny, cause I’ve never been close to my parents but they expect me to receive everything blindly. There’s always pressure on my shoulder and I can never let myself fail,” he laughs as if mocking himself. “The moment I show my weakness, everyone flocks around me to take what I have. And anyone close to me can easily turn away from me.”

You stare at him as his expression hardens. You have to say something to comfort him. “Jimin.. I.. I would never.. do that.. to you.”

He looks at you then. Eyes pierced into yours. “You will. Once you know the reason behind this marriage. You’ll hate me too.”

You don’t know what to say to that but the coldness behind his words make shivers run down your spine making you shudder.

Jimin draws his breath before he shrugs his coat out of him. He then pulls you towards him, making you gasp. “It’s okay, you don’t have to-“ you start when he put his coat around your bare shoulder.

“Just stay still.” He says.

His hands are in front of you, fixing his coat snd dangerously close to your breast. You look up and there’s no mistaking his eyes that roam over your curves so you awkwardly struggle to look anywhere else.

He’s your own husband for god’s sake.. why do you have to feel so shy?

A/N: So I actually ended up posting this chapter as scheduled 😂 there’s a sudden surge of things to be done this weekend and it was pretty hectic 🥺 I’m sorry guys I’m a mere human I hope you guys aren’t mad 🥺

Oh and i’m not really the most knowledgeable about art, but art is subjective and it all depends on how one intepret so yeah 😂

anyways, hope you guys enjoy this chapter I thought it ended in a pretty cute way hehehehe

Link to Chapter 13 Posted on 210426 9:00PM

[halfway-happyyy]

Coming Home

AN: hello friends! it’s me again! and back (again) with something that no one asked for, but if this thought has to live rent free in my head... then it might as well in yours, too. 

tw: nothing but fluff, since that’s all i can get my brain to create these days.

She awakens in the morning's hush to a dull throbbing in her head, her throat like sandpaper. Shuffling through a mental rolodex of the previous evening’s drinks, she swallows hard to keep the roiling waves of nausea at bay. An idle glance to the clock on the spare room night side table tells her that it’s later in the morning, and she waits until she hears the familiar sound of water hitting the metal drain of Alexander's shower before she lifts the duvet from her body. A cool, hardwood floor greets her bare feet as she pads to the closet in search of something to throw over her figure before she heads downstairs. Settling on a worn, crème cashmere sweater of his that falls to her shins, she stretches her arms high above her head to limber up. Stepping out into the hallway, the heady aroma of freshly ground coffee beans greets her as she makes her way down the spiral staircase towards the much-needed liquid. Muffled pieces of Swedish find her from the kitchen.

“There she is,” Gustaf beams at her, his wise, knowing gaze twinkles merrily in the sunshine filtering in through the open kitchen window.

Bill is already reaching for a coffee mug for her.

“Morning Goose.” She smiles, sleepily. “Good morning, Bill.”

He smiles at her, wryly. “Good morning kid. How are you fairing so far?”

She shifts from foot to foot- remembers the shots taken, the beers consumed, the martinis sipped, and she grimaces. “I’m uh… definitely feeling a little rough for sure, but it’s really nothing a couple cups of coffee and some food won't cure.”

Gustaf laughs heartily before taking a deep sip from his own mug. Setting it down against the oak tabletop, his smile bears a teasing lilt. “I confess I am impressed that you're even upright at the moment.”

She accepts the coffee from Bill graciously, notes that he has made it exactly how she likes it, and thanks a higher being for the Skarsgårds. Taking her first sip of the day, she savours the creamy bitterness of it on her tongue, and the warmth of it as it settles in her tummy and turns to Gustaf. “Me too, Goose. How did last night get so out of hand?”

Bill rolls his viridian eyes. “The same way it always does.”

She remembers the text she received from Alexander yesterday afternoon vividly: ‘Hey kid- I’m back on home turf for the next week. Having some friends over tonight to celebrate. Bill and Gustaf miss you. Maybe I do too. If you’re not doing anything, please consider dropping by. Don’t bring any liquor. I already have too much. Hope to see you soon, xx – A’ Her cheeks warm at the thought of it, and she swallows hard. “Yeah, I have no recollection of like… the last two hours of the evening.”

Bill chuckles into his mug. “You were pretty entertaining. Uh but eventually, and unfortunately for the rest of us, Alex hauled you into his arms and tucked you into bed a little after midnight.” Alex hauled you into his arms… And just then- a flash of a memory; his impossibly warm, sure arms around her, the softness of a bed, the sheer relief of him pulling a duvet over her body, a pair of tender lips against her temple, a sliver of pale light from the hallway on her arm, the sound of a door shutting softly. “But hey,” Bill murmurs, taking notice of the expression on her face. “You had fun, right?”

She’s about answer in the affirmative, when the water stops, and she clears her throat. “I wanted to run something by you two before Alex comes down.”

Gustaf sets down the script he had been reading and turns to her, his attention now suddenly all-consuming. Bill sets his empty mug against the marble counter and folds his arms across his chest. “Go on, then.”

“What do you think the chances of Alex setting me up with Joel are?” She picks anxiously at a patch of chipped lavender polish on her pinkie finger as she awaits their responses.

Gustaf speaks first, his expression deadpan. “Joel who?”

She has to fight the urge to roll her eyes. “The other Scandinavian giant who likes to hang around with you guys sometimes. He and Alex go way back apparently…”

“You don’t mean Joel Kinnaman?” Bill asks, tone incredulous.

Her cheeks grow ever warmer. “Yeah, that’s him.” He had made an appearance last night for a couple of hours- and she thought that they had hit it off well, all things considered. “But if you guys don’t really think it’s a good idea, I’ll just… leave it.” Gustaf opens his mouth to say something, but in place of any actual words, a booming laugh tumbles out and soon the pair of them are laughing so hard, they’re both silent. She folds her arms across her chest, suddenly defensive, and waits for their laughter to subside. She listens for Alexander’s weighted footsteps above her. “Alright you two, that’s enough. I get it, I’ll drop it.” She snaps.

Gustaf sighs, his eyes still glitter just as brilliantly as before. “Listen, little one. I don’t think it’s a bad idea at all. I just think that it’s precarious territory.”

“What’s precarious about it? Apart from the fact that you both clearly don’t think that I can make it happen.” She gets it before they confirm it for her. One of his ex-girlfriends was Olivia Munn for crying out loud. She suddenly feels ridiculous for even considering it.

Gustaf clears his throat and stares at her, and she feels like he’s peering into her very soul. “You are a very capable and brilliant young woman, my dear. So, you will excuse me if I find it difficult to believe that you truly don’t know.”

She stares at them both, expectantly. “Don’t know what?”

Gustaf shrugs and takes another sip of his coffee. “Alex carries a massive, blazing torch for you.” His admission hangs heavy in the air before them and she barely has time to register it before the sound of Alexander on the staircase rouses her. “So, you can absolutely ask him to set you up with Joel, but I doubt very much that it will go in your favour.”

She’s about to shake her head, to protest, but Alexander enters the kitchen. His dark blonde hair is still wet from the shower, and water droplets glisten above the collar of his blue t shirt. “What’s all the fuss about? I could hear you two yahoos laughing from the washroom.” His gaze turns to her, and he smiles. “Morning kid. Good to see you up and at it.”

“Good morning, Alex,” She mumbles. “I’m sorry about last night.”

His expression softens evermore, and he shakes his head. “Nonsense. I just hope you’re feeling alright today.”

She swallows hard, the throbbing in her head still apparent, but more tolerable after coffee. Gustaf’s words echo in the back of her mind. “Hanging in there.”

“It is suspiciously quiet in here now, boys.” Alexander murmurs as he procures an espresso cup from the same cupboard.

Gustaf clears his throat and closes his script. “Just an inside joke between the three of us. I'm off. I've got an audition with HBO on Thursday that I'd like to feel at least somewhat prepared for. Thanks again for your ever-generous hospitality, brother.” He stands up from the table, and slings an arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head as he does so. “You remember what I told you, hm?”

She nods her head. How could she possibly forget? “Yeah, Goose.”

“You coming little brother?” He cocks an eyebrow at Bill. The middle Skarsgård nods his head in the affirmative and leans over to tell Alexander something in their native tongue. It makes the eldest brother smile, and he throws an arm around Bill's shoulders to bid him goodbye.

Bill wraps his arms around her, and this is always when the full gravity of their stature hits her. “Good seeing you again, kid. Take care of yourself, hm?”

She beams at him and nods her head. “’Til next time, Bill.”

She listens for the familiar chime of the front door closing, before lifting herself onto the counter next to Alexander. “I found this in the spare room closet,” she murmurs, gesturing to his sweater. “If you mind, I can go change-

“I don't mind at all, kid.”

Alexander had been an integral part of her life for the better part of five years now, and in all that time she was simply grateful just to call him a friend- a wonderful one at that. But then she remembers the lingering touches, the playful- yet somehow scorching teasing of any new love interest, the general (and sometimes overpowering) sensation of sheer want for him at the end of a long night. She views him in a new light now; the crystalline water droplets from before have evaporated into his sun-kissed skin, but his hair still bears the weight of moisture and the sudden urge to card her fingers through it is overwhelming. “I have something to tell you,” He murmurs.

This is it, she thinks.

“It's about last night.”

And suddenly, the nausea that had been so persistent an hour ago, returns in full force and she swallows hard to keep the coffee from rising in her throat. “Alex, if it's something I did or said… I'm sorry.”

He shakes his head and lifts his gaze to hers, her azure orbs are alight with a fire she doesn’t quite recognize. “None of that, kid. It's Joel. He wants to take you out for dinner sometime soon and I guess he wanted my blessing first.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm.” He confirms. “Seems you made quite the impression on him last night.”

And god, she thinks this news would have been the best news to receive an hour ago. But then sixty-two minutes elapsed, and in that space of time, Gustaf handed her his eldest brother’s gift-wrapped secret, and here they are. “I didn’t mean to,” She mumbles.

And Alexander laughs at this, and in that moment, she swears it’s her favourite sound in the whole world. “You never do, kid. There’s just something about being around you that’s as effortless as breathing. You take up the perfect amount of space. It’s quite a thing to behold, actually.” He sips his espresso, his intense gaze on her makes her feel more naked than she’s ever been before. “So, what do you say?”

She offers him a half-shrug. “What do you say?”

He blanches now. “What do you mean? This is entirely your decision.”

“You know him better than I do. You also know me, Alex. What do you say?”

And like grains of sand through fingertips, his resolve crumbles before her very eyes. “I can’t quite articulate what it’s like to watch someone accomplish in a night, what I’ve thought about for nearly five years. That is entirely on me, though,” He trails off, setting his empty cup against the counter. “But he’s a good guy, kid. I’d be lying if I said anything to the contrary.”

Her throat constricts as she mulls over what to say next. “Why did you wait, Alex?”

There is a vast vulnerability to him that she hasn’t been privy to until now. And in this moment, he isn’t Alexander Skarsgård the movie star- Hollywood and Sweden’s most eligible bachelor. He is her best friend; the six-foot-four dork with the adorable overbite, the guy who can’t pronounce his ‘ands’ properly because of his accent. He is the man who would give the shirt off his back to anyone in need. A true, golden heart beats in his chest, it keeps him alive, propelling him towards greatness. “I don’t operate the way normal people do, and you know that. It’s like… I repel relationships. It’s the distance and the timing that throws people off, kid.” His eyes darken. “They’re drawn to the glitz at first; the premiers, and the award ceremonies, the tropical vacations. But then I miss birthdays and weddings and engagement parties, and no one ever seems to want to stick around after the dust settles.” He allows himself a deep, steadying breath. “And I’ve never blamed them at all for that. But then you came into my life, and we weren’t ever in a relationship in the traditional sense, but you became a really good friend- one of the best, and you stuck around." He sighs heavily. "You just... feel like coming home, kid. And in all this time, that feeling has never wavered or changed."

“Alex, I-

“So why did I wait? It’s a good question,” He clears his throat. “I waited because I thought that the minute I laid everything out on the line for you, you wouldn’t want it.” And god, she can feel her heart cracking under the weight of his honesty. “And even saying it now, I know I should have automatically given you the benefit of the doubt. But you’ve been around for all of it, kid. You've picked up the pieces. You know how ugly it can get.”

She swallows hard, heart thrumming wildly in her chest. “Come closer,” She murmurs. Alexander hesitates a beat before settling into the space between her legs, his denim jeans tickle the velvet softness of her inner thighs, and she shivers into the sensation. His face is mere inches away from hers now, and she can smell the refreshing scent of bodywash on his skin, the sharp citrus shampoo from his damp hair. “I want to try Alex,” It comes out as a whisper, but he catches it because his lips twitch into a small smile. “If you want to.”

His gaze travels to her lips, and he closes the distance between them to kiss her. His massive, warm hands find purchase in her hair as their kiss deepens, and every fiber of her being screams at her that this is it- this is what they’ve both been waiting for. When he eventually pulls away, he rests his forehead against hers to try to regulate his breathing. His gives her thighs a gentle squeeze and places a tender kiss to her forehead. “I absolutely want this, kid.”

And she believes him because she wants it just as bad.

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

Roommates (K.NJ)

Warnings : mentions of drinking, partying, swearing, mentions of sex

Synopsis : unable to afford rent alone, she looks for a roommate. he’s perfect on paper, but seems to avoid her in person. after their friend groups mix for a night out, she finds out he finds her beautiful. she never expected to befriend him, nor did she expect to fall for her handsome roommate.

Word Count : 3281

After graduating university, I moved into a 3-bedroom duplex, sure with my new job I could afford it by myself. But after a few months, I found myself struggling to keep up with bills and rent and soon put out an ad for a roommate. I’d prefer to live with another girl, but after meeting all the girls that applied, I decided to expand my search to include guys as well.

           Kim Namjoon seemed like the perfect applicant on paper and seemed fairly decent when he came to check out the place. He didn’t ask any questions, calmed all the concerns I had about living with a stranger, and met all my expectations for a roommate. He seemed to be the obvious choice, so he moved in a couple days later.

           I didn’t expect to become friends with the guy as the two of us were quite different, but I didn’t expect him to completely avoid me either. He kept to himself, either leaving the place for days at a time, or staying in his room, only leaving to get food and use the washroom. At first it was nice; I was worried about him making any unwanted advances and it really calmed all my anxieties. But after a while, it seemed like he was avoiding me like the plague. I tried to talk to him a few times, but he would shrug it off and ignore my existence.

           “How’s living with a stranger?” My best friend, Jimin, asked when he came for a visit a couple months after Namjoon moved in. “Have you guys hooked up yet?” I choked on my drink, completely taken back by his question.

           “God no! I’ve tried being friendly, but the man avoids me like I don’t even exist!” I said after I caught my breath from my coughing fit. “I guess I don’t mind it though. It’s almost like I still live alone, just with extra money.” The front door slammed open soon after I said that and Namjoon came stomping in with the angriest look on his face. He paused when he entered the living room and saw Jimin sitting beside me on the couch.

           “If you two are going to fuck later, keep it down. I’m going to bed.” Before either of us could say anything, Namjoon stormed up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door.

           “Who pissed in his cornflakes?” Jimin asked, his eyes wide as he looked in the direction of the stairs Namjoon just stormed up.

           “Who goes to bed at 3 in the afternoon?” I stared at the time on my phone with my brows furrowed together, wondering if something happened while he was gone.

           “You’re sure he isn’t some criminal?” Jimin jokingly asked and I playfully slapped his arm and giggled. But I really didn’t know what he did for a living. He pays rent on time and helps with the bills, so I never really questioned anything. “Jin is wondering if you’re coming out with us tonight.” Jimin was typing away at his phone, most likely texting Jin, asking what the plan was.

           “Yeah, I have tomorrow off so why not.” Jimin nodded and continued to text Jin. “Who’s all going?”

           “All I know for sure is me, you, Jin and Taehyung. Jin said he invited someone from his work who might come and bring his friends too, so I’m not too sure.” I nodded.

           “I hope the guy he invited from work is Hoseok. I met him a couple times and he’s super fun! And really hot.” Jimin laughed and shook his head at me. “What? I can appreciate his beauty!”

           “I never said you couldn’t. You just haven’t shown interest in anyone since Jackson.” I rolled my eyes.

           “First, we promised never to bring him up. Second, I’m not interested in Hoseok, I just think he’s attractive.” Jimin held his hands up in surrender before getting up to leave.

           “I’m going to go meet up with Jin for a while. I’ll see you tonight.”

           After Jimin left, I decided to get ready so whenever they decided to show up, I wouldn’t be holding us back from our night out. Jin always complained about how long it took me to get ready, as if he didn’t also take forever.

           After showering and doing my hair and makeup, I was left with deciding what to wear. I had a couple outfit choices laid out on my bed. I kept picking them up and holding them up to myself while looking in the mirror, but I just couldn’t decide. I was just about to call Jimin when I heard a knock at my bedroom door. I threw the two dresses I had in my hands onto my bed and went to open my door, expecting either Jimin or Taehyung to be on the other side, but was surprised to see Namjoon standing there, holding two coffees.

           “I wanted to apologize for earlier. I had a bad day and took it out on you and your boyfriend.” He handed one of the coffees to me. I looked down at the drink and then up at him. “Oh uh, they messed up my drink and gave me one for free. Figured you’d like it.” He quickly said, and I didn’t let it slip that the two coffees were obviously very different. The one in his hand was hot, whereas the one he handed me was iced. I just smiled and thanked him. “The long-sleeved black dress would look good on you. Go with that one.” He said before I could shut my door and then quickly walked away before I could ask what he meant. I looked at the different dresses on my bed and smiled to myself when it put it together. And he wasn’t wrong.

           “Hey, you sexy motherfucker, worldwide handsome has arrived!” I heard from downstairs as I was putting the final touches on my outfit. I rolled my eyes at the dumb nickname Jin gave himself and quickly opened my bedroom door to head out. Namjoon was heading back to his room from the bathroom, and I asked if he wanted to come with.

           “My friends and I already have plans.” I nodded and told him to have a good night and rushed down the stairs.

           “Damn girl, where have you been hiding this!” Jin gushed when he saw me. I playfully slapped him as I slid on a pair of strappy black heels to go with my dress. It was really a thin strapped crop top and a skirt, with a long-sleeved sparkly mesh dress on top that really showed off all my curves, and my legs. Just as we were about to leave and get in the car, Hoseok came barging in.

           “I thought we were meeting you there?” Jin asked. Hoseok looked between the two of us, confusion written on his face.

           “Does Namjoon live here?” He asked after a minute of silence. I smiled to myself at how small a world we live in and nodded. “Namjoon, let’s go!” Hoseok yelled, and I took that moment to check him out without him noticing. Jin elbowed me in the side and told me we should get going before Taehyung thinks we’re hooking up.

           “He really won’t ever let us live that down, hey.” Jin and I shared a laugh as we told Hoseok we’d meet them at the club. “Hey thots, we ready to get lit?!” I exclaimed as I got into the car. Taehyung rolled his eyes at me, but I could see the smile he was trying to hide.

           “That was fast for the two of you. Just a quicky this time?” I rolled my eyes and leaned forward to playfully slap him as he was driving.

           “It was one time! And it was years ago.”

           “Still weird.” I shook my head and leaned back in my seat.

           We got a booth before Hoseok and his friends arrived and joined us. Namjoon’s eyes widened when he saw me, and Jimin glared at him, obviously still upset about what happened earlier. “Hey, I uh, already apologized to Y/N, but I guess I should apologize to you too. I shouldn’t have snapped like that.” Hoseok’s two other friends looked between Jimin and Namjoon, wondering what happened. “It was Y/N’s place first, and you two are dating so I should be nicer.” I was so caught up in him giving me a coffee that I completely forgot to correct him on that fact, but it still made me laugh. Jin and Taehyung burst out laughing while Jimin just sat there with a dumbfounded look on his face.

           “Oh my god, Y/N and Jimin dating.” Jin laughed.

           “That’s the best joke I’ve ever heard!” Taehyung added, bent at the waist as tears streamed down his face from how hard he was laughing. I felt bad for Namjoon as he stood there, confused as to what was so funny. His friends eventually put two and two together and shook their heads.

           “Y/N and I aren’t dating.” Jimin finally said. Namjoon went completely red in the face and I found myself smiling at how cute it was. For the first time since he moved in, I actually got a good look at him and honestly I couldn’t stop myself from staring. I’m not sure if it was the dim lighting, or the way he was dressed, but he was really handsome.

           “Oh, sorry.” He quickly said. “I’m going to go get a drink.” I quickly stood from the booth and followed him as Hoseok introduced his two friends to the rest of the group.

           “Hey!” I said when I caught up to him. “Sorry about my friends. Also sorry I didn’t correct you earlier, it slipped my mind.” He shrugged his shoulders, saying it wasn’t a big deal. “Jimin has been my best friend since diapers, basically my brother. That’s why Jin and Taehyung found it so funny.” Namjoon nodded.

           “I don’t need your life story.” My heart sank when he said that. I thought we were finally getting somewhere with our relationship, but I guess he was just the kind of guy who couldn’t not right a wrong.

           “Noted.” I ordered mine and my friend’s drinks, as well as shots for the table, told the bartender which table, and turned to walk away before Namjoon made his order. I plopped down beside Jin who immediately wrapped his arm around me. “Sorry, I ran off before I could get your names.” I smiled at the two strangers sitting across from me.

           “I’m Jungkook, and mister grumpy pants there is Yoongi.”

           “Well I hope no one minds, but I ordered shots for the table.” Just as I said that Namjoon came back with the bartender and the two handed out the drinks and shots that had been ordered. I held up my shot glass and everyone else followed suit. “Let’s get litty titty!”

           “You’re not allowed to make the toast ever again.” Jin said as we all downed our first round of shots. Namjoon was sat directly across from me, staring at me as if I kicked his dog. Conversations started around the table, but Namjoon just sat there, staring at me. I downed my drink in record time while making eye contact with him. I leaned across the table and motioned for Namjoon to do the same.

           “You keep staring at me like that, I’ll think you’re secretly in love with me.” I said just loud enough for him to hear and sat back. “Jin, come get another drink with me!” I slid my hand into his and he happily obliged, asking around the table if anyone else wanted something.

           At some point during the night, I convinced some of the guys to hit the dance floor with me. Namjoon obviously stayed behind, rolling his eyes at my invitation. “Don’t take it to heart.” Hoseok told me as a group of us made our way to the dance floor. “He doesn’t know how to act around girls he thinks are pretty.” I smiled at the insinuation that Namjoon thought I was pretty.

           Jin took my hand as soon as we hit the dance floor and the two of us began dancing together. I could feel the alcohol starting to hit me and began to let loose. “Your friends are betting on whether or not you and Jin are going to hookup tonight.” Hoseok told me as we made our way to the bar to get more drinks before heading back to the table for a rest.

           “They do that every time.” His eyes widened. “Jin and I hooked up once a couple years ago and now the two of them, Taehyung especially, won’t let us live it down.” He nodded in understanding.

            I sat beside Namjoon, considerably more drunk than when I left the table. He looked at me with the same annoyed look he’s been giving me all night, but I didn’t let it bother me this time. “A little birdy told me you think I’m pretty.” I slurred out and laughed as his eyes widened and he suddenly got nervous.

           “I don’t know who told you that, but they’re lying.” His words hurt more than I’d like to admit. I don’t know why I want him to think I’m pretty, but I do. I stood up to move to the other side of the booth and sit beside Taehyung, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back down beside him. “I-I think you’re beautiful.” He stuttered out, obviously not nearly as drunk as me. With my elbows on the table, I put my head in my hands and turned my body to look up at him.

           “You look really handsome tonight, Namjoon.” I could see a bit of pink dust his cheeks as he smiled. “Oh! You have a dimple.” I said as I poked it and brought my face closer to his to get a better look. He swatted my hand away and looked away from me. “You’re so mean to me.” I pouted. I reached out and placed my hands on his cheeks and made him look at me. His eyes were wide as I studied his face with a pout on my face.

           “What are you doing?” He asked, reaching up and taking my hands in his, removing them from his face.

           “Memorizing your handsome face, since you always hide from me.”

           “Sorry.” I smiled at him.

           “Come dance with me!” I stood up again and held my hand out to him, catching the attention of the other two sitting at the table, specifically Yoongi. Namjoon lowered my arm, denying my request. “Please! Just one song.” Yoongi smirked at Namjoon who seemed embarrassed.

           “I’m not much of a dancer.”

           “I’m not either!” I exclaimed and grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the booth. He didn’t resist much as I pulled him to the dance floor, earning a surprised look from Hoseok who was having a mini dance battle with Jimin. “Don’t be weird about it.” I laughed as I started dancing. Namjoon was very stiff and awkwardly smiled at me. “Let loose.” I grabbed his hands and started dancing with him, trying to get him to enjoy himself. I got lost in the song and Namjoon eventually let go of my hands and just watched me.

           “I’m going to get a drink; do you want anything.” Namjoon whispered in my ear after a couple songs passed.

           “Surprise me.” I continued to dance while I watched him walk away. I didn’t expect him to actually get me a drink, but he returned a few minutes later and handed me the same drink I’d been drinking all night.

           After a few more songs and a couple more drinks, I had definitely surpassed my limit, and Namjoon could tell. I was slumped over on the table, barely able to keep my head up. “Let’s head home.” He said softly, bending down in front of me, telling me to hop on his back. I loosely wrapped my arms around his neck, and he stood, reaching back to support my legs. Jin, Jimin, Jungkook and Hoseok were heading back to the table as we were leaving. “I’m going to take her home. The uber is outside.” He explained to the group before leaving for the door.

           “Please don’t hate me.” I whispered as he walked outside and towards the waiting car.

           “I couldn’t ever.” He replied, setting me in the backseat, and ran to the other side. For some reason, his words caused my heart to flutter. I didn’t expect to start crushing on my quiet roommate, but somehow it happened.

           The next morning I woke up with one of the worst headaches I’ve ever experienced. As I sat up in my bed, I saw some Advil and a glass of water on my side table and smiled. What happened last night wasn’t a dream.

           “I’m making breakfast, if you want.” Namjoon said as I descended down the stairs. I smiled to myself as I looked at him standing in the kitchen with an apron on. I made my way over to the barstools that sat beside the island and took a seat, just watching him. “Uh, what are you doing?” He asked, a blush rising to his cheeks like many times last night.

           “I don’t know how long you’re going to be nice to me like this, so I’m going to bask in it.” I giggled and he just rolled his eyes at me, feigning annoyance.

           “You’re annoying.” He scoffed, turning back to whatever he was cooking.

           “Yeah, but you still think I’m pretty.” I teased. He didn’t even bother turning around when he said his next words.

           “I already told you that was a lie.” I stood up from the barstool and walked behind him and wrapped my arms around his torso, taking in his scent and feeling the butterflies in my stomach take flight yet again. I could feel him tense under my touch, but as quickly as he tensed, he relaxed into my embrace. “I think you’re beautiful.” He repeated his statement from last night, and I wouldn’t believe him if he said he couldn’t hear how hard my heart was pounding.

           “Go on a date with me today.” I said as I let go of him, looking up to see his reaction. He was pretending it didn’t affect him as he continued cooking, but I could see the blush on his cheeks and I smiled, knowing I made him just as nervous as he made me.

           “A date?” He questioned, not even bothering to look at me.

           “Yes. A date. With me. Like bowling or something. Something fun though!” He took the pan off the stove and started plating the food, still not giving me an answer, which caused my nerves to start to get the best of me. Still, I refused to take it back. I wanted to go on a date with him and I wasn’t one to sit around and wait. Still silent, he walked to the dining table, placing both plates on it and finally taking time to look at me.

           “You couldn’t have waited for me to ask you?” He chuckled, causing all my worries to subside as I walked to the dining table and taking a seat.

           “I go after what I want.” I shrugged. “And I want you.”

           “Well, at least let me plan it.” I agreed to his condition and the two of us ate in silence, glancing up at each other every once in a while with shy smiles.

[bl--ankhaeji]

hiii! :). can i request a fic where hendery or yangyang have y/n over at place and she accidentally gets period blood on his bed but after taking care of her, and assuring she’s okay they face another challenge at the store when they try and buy some period items/snacks for her. :) ty!

Pairing ~ Yangyang x Fem!Reader

Genre ~ Fluff, Humor

Warning ~ uhh very light mentions of a slight panic attack not really but really two ig if you count yangs,, also unedited  

A.N ~ Sorry took me so long to answer 😅 hope you like it!

W. Count ~ 1.4k  

  The bright rays of light bleed into the room in which you and your boyfriend of a year sleep peacefully, that is until yangyang throws his hand towards your face in his sleep, slapping you awake. You jolt awake from the impact, “Yang what the fuck.” you spit angrily throwing his hand back on him. “Fucking bitch.” rolling your eyes before closing them you start twisting and turning trying to find a comfy spot to go back to sleep until you feel something wet between your legs. 

Your eyes fly open instantly as you curse internally praying that you’re just overthinking and you sit up looking down to see that what you feared was really happening. Your period had decided to come on in the middle of the night and not only that but you had heavily stained YangYang’s sheets and partially his comforter. “Fuck!” hopping out of bed you start silently panicking pacing back and forth wondering how you’re gonna hide this from YangYang. 

In the midst of your panic you didn’t notice that the very person you wanted to stay asleep had woken up. “Babe, what are you panicking about so early I can barely dream with all of your pac-” he stops mid sentence sitting up on the bed as if he had noticed something and instantly your heart drops as you cease all pacing, “Baby,” he starts out slow, “Are those my joggers? I have been looking for those everywhere, shoulda fucking known you had them.” Standing up he walks into his en suite bathroom. 

A breath leaves your lips as pure relief floods your bloodstream and it’s as if someone lifted a brick off your shoulders. You swear you had never stripped a bed of its dressing so quick in your life trying to get it into the washer before YangYang comes out. Gathering everything in your arms you start to trudge your way out of the room, the end was near you could see the finish line just a few more steps and you’ll-. Yangyang’s hand lands on your shoulder causing your body to stiffen immediately and he makes his way in front of you grabbing the bed set out of your hands. 

“There’s some bath water in the tub for you, I’ll take these to the washroom real quick then bring you a towel.” He then leaves the room without another word closing the door softly behind him. The panic that quickly filled you at the thought of him probably seeing the stain on the back of his pants when he walked out of the bathroom leaves just as quick as it came when you realize that he had probably already known the whole time. In its place was an indescribable warmth accompanied with butterflies at the thought that he pretended not to notice because he knew how stressed out you were about it.

Making your way to the bathroom you grab some clothes to change into. The bubble bath that rested in the tub could only be described as fit for a queen; you could even see the freshly opened and used powdered bath milk packet resting in the garbage can. Stripping yourself you sit in the bath filled with water at the perfect temperature and you could feel all of the tension in your muscles loosen. 

You hear YangYang walk back into the room and then the bathroom standing at the door looking at you. “I hope the bath water temp is cool. The comforter should take a hour or two and I can order you some food if you’re hungry.” 

Looking down at the bubbles that rested above your hands, “Thanks for not making a big deal out of this. You’re the best.” YangYang nods with a ‘Damn right I am’ falling from his lips, and a bright smile splits his face before moving to make his way out of the doorway until your voice calls him back.

 “By the way what did you do with that pad I left here last time? I forgot to put another emergency one in my backpack.” At your question the smile that once threatened to tear his face falls and a guilty expression takes its place. 

“Uhhh about that..” he trails off, averting his eyes, his right hand reaching for the back of his neck, “I kinda used your last pad to wipe up my Arizona Green Tea when it spilled.”  

“Yang I- YOU WHAT?!?”  

“I’M SORRY. THEY’RE- they’re really absorbent okay?” A silence falls between the both of you and you finally look back up at him staring him dead in the eyes a serious expression taking over your face. 

“I take it back, you aren’t the best.” 

“WHAT NO?!? You can’t take that back away from me. It’s undeserved, I had nothing else to clean it up with cause we were out of paper towels.” 

“No, it is deserved because now what am I supposed to do? I can’t just sit in the tub until my period goes off.” You say giving him a deadpan expression. 

“I’ll go to the store and get you some more, okay? I’ll even get you some snacks, what do you want?” 

You give him a list of snacks and tell him explicitly what type of pads to buy, “And if all else fails you can always just call me and I’ll tell you which ones to get.”

Yangyang scoffs, “I’m not stupid how hard could buying some measly pads be.” 

“What the fuck is we doin?” Yangyang drawls out at the sight of all of the pads. “So many words and I have no idea what any of them fucking mean.” he whispers. He picks up a box of pads, “Ok I’m pretty sure the wings are those flappy things that got stuck to my hand when I was wiping up the tea. So that means she wants them to have them, right?”

“Super absorbent..Heavy flow. Does y/n have a heavy flow? I assume so from the amount of blood she got on herself and the bed this morning, so I should buy these right? Wait, but they say teen and she’s not a teen.” putting the box down he picks up another. 

“Maxi, overnight, Super Pads? What makes these super? What the fuck is all of this?!?” Meanwhile Y/n is at the house saying I told you so because she can feel his distress all the way from the store.

Apparently Y/n isn’t the only one who can sense his distress because another boy walks into the section scanning the boxes with precise eyes grabbing one confidently and on the way to the counter when he sees a panic ridden Yangyang. “Hey, bro do you uhh need help or something?” he asks a chuckle falling from his lips. 

Yangyang’s head shoots up looking at the man as if he was a god, “Bro please I have no idea what the fuck any of this means and my girlfriend offered to facetime me if I had trouble but I ran my mouth about how I didn’t ne-”

“Need help and now that you do you don’t wanna call her and hear the I told you so? Yea I know that feeling and I refuse to let another brother feel the same.” The stranger's hand falls on Yangyangs shoulder as a father would his son as he guides him in the ways of the sanitary pads. When he was done Yangyang knew not only of pads but tampons as well and with his chest puffed out he made his way to the counter with the snacks and the pads ready to tell Y/n how he didn’t need help picking out some freaking pads...well not her help anyways. 

“Wow, you actually got the right ones.” you say walking into the room flopping down on the bed beside Yangyang. Opening one of the snacks he got you you lean back on him waiting for him to press play on the movie. 

He clears his throat drawing your attention up to him, “Is there something you would like to say to me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “It rhymes with Shime Shma Shmest...” 

Smacking your teeth you roll your eyes, “Fine, You’re the best.” 

Wrapping his arms around you pulling you more into his chest he nods, “Mmhm I sure am. Don’t forgot okay?” you shake your head at the saying he picked up from his roommate Haechan. 

Yangyang proceeds to press play on the movie and you get a couple minutes in, “Yangyang.” 

“Hm?” 

“I know you got help from someone cause I- mmgmhhmhMMSHSHMMHM” Yangyang’s hand flies over your mouth covering it in order to mute what you’re saying. 

“What’s that I’m sorry babe I can’t hear you. Did you say I’m the Best? Oh, okay thanks so much babe I love you too.” 

[imagine-docx]

sneaky.

Summary: Being neighbours with a cute boy has some perks. Also, Sam is being the best wingman (no pun intended) he possibly could. [neighbour!chubby!buckyau]

Warnings: Swearing, and some insecurity mentions and some body shaming.

A/N: Hello, quarantine has me writing again as I am officially done uni for the year. So please enjoy this jumble of different AU’s thrown into one. - Amanda 

➽───────────────❥

You have lived next to James Barnes for the last two and a half years and you guys never really talked, just smiles and nods whenever you see him, and occasionally swapping mail that accidentally went to your respective houses, this was mostly because your schedules conflict but also Bucky didn’t know how to talk to a cute girl but he won't mention that part.

You’ve heard rumours about how he was a serial abuser and other nonsense from the neighbourhood, because honestly Anita from five houses down creates random fantasies she might as well be an author.

He was so used to getting stares and glares for his left prosthetic and round stomach, due to the rumours that were spread around the neighbourhood and he always shied away from contact with anyone in the area. You on the other hand? God literally sent you, so warm and loving. 

He was working on his car one day, while his cat was outside with him. Looks back to see Alpine and doesn’t see his cat, slight panic until he sees that Alpine wasn’t there, but that cat is everywhere so it doesn’t bother him that much.

He heard soft lo-fi music coming from across the fence, indicating that you were outside. He looks over and sees you sitting there, on your computer between papers and notebooks and his cat sitting with you.

To you, Alpine wasn’t much chaos, in fact, a designer, he would randomly paw at something and it clicked with you that the two outfits look good.

“I’m so sorry, my cat is bothering you.” Bucky called out.

“Not at all, he constantly is spending time over here, love him like he’s my own,” you smiled at him.

“Thank you for looking out for him,” he said, looking down at his feet.

“Not a problem. You look exhausted, come get some coffee!” You exclaimed, with the brightest smile he’s ever seen, plastered onto your face.

“Are you sure?” He didn’t want your reputation to be tainted by having him over for some coffee.

“Come! How do you take your coffee?” you said, trekking back to close all your notebooks because honestly, it's not everyday that your cute neighbour talks to you and work can always wait.

You went inside to make both of you a cup of coffee, his black, and yours with some cream and sugar. You also plated two lemon bars for the two of you, and grabbed a little yogurt from your fridge for Alpine to enjoy. 

“I’m surprised you wanted to be seen with me. Especially with all the rumours, I found everyone believing them.”

“Honestly, half of them came from Anita and she is a whackjob. I’m surprised people listen to her.” You said taking a sip of your coffee.

He laughed, “You would be surprised, people look at me like I killed someone.”

“When I first moved in she told the entire neighbourhood that I got a divorce and needed massive space from my ex husband because I found him cheating with one of his juniors. People actually believed it which makes it worse. For like a year I was getting sympathetic looks for a divorce and relationship that didn’t even happen.” You cut a piece of your lemon bar with your fork.

He laughed, and felt so much more comfortable with you, like he has known you for so long. “My old place caught on fire, and I got trapped, lost m’arm. Girl left me because I had no arm, no place to stay, hit rock bottom, gained a few pounds, and Stark helped me by getting me this arm, even though I work for him and he paid for this place for me.” He said looking down, he felt comfortable enough for you to know what happened, but avoided your look, scared of judgement. 

You reached out for his flesh hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “You’re doing amazing James, don’t listen to what the neighbourhood chatties have to say. That’s why half of their men turn off their hearing aids when they talk.” 

He smiled and you removed your hand, “Bucky.”

“Pardon?”

“Call me Bucky.”

“Alright, Bucky. So how did Bucky derive from James, because there is no correlation” you said, shoving the piece of lemon bar into your mouth.

“From my middle name, Buchanan, and I guess it stuck with me since.”

“Wait, you work for Stark Industries?” You said realization dawning on you.

“Yeah…” He said unsurely as if you would kick him off your backyard patio set and never talk to him again. 

“I provide the latest and never seen before suits to Tony Stark!” You laughed.

“Insurrexon?” He asked.

“Yes sir, the one and only fashion director for Insurrexon.” You said.

He laughed, “So you guys are the reason he prances around his office saying his suit is worth more than everyone’s rent.”

“Sounds like a very Tony thing to do, but yes. I am the cause of that.” 

You laughed and spent the remainder of your day talking with Bucky in your backyard while Alpine takes occasional nips at the yogurt left for him.

➽───────────────❥

Since that day, you and Bucky practically became best friends. With your schedule practically all over the place you two were constantly texting to help compensate for the fact you probably saw him for a total of 10 minutes or less a day.

He noticed some days you were coming home super late and noticed the lights in your washroom and bedroom are the only lights that were on when you came home and after that he assumed you fell asleep. He felt bad knowing you didn’t eat and were constantly on the go and eating probably the most unhealthy things possible just to stay alive. So he would drop you off extra portions of whatever he made. 

Or that's what he likes to tell himself. One day on his break he saw the cutest reusable container, it was glass and had little black dresses on it with a hot pink lid, and knew it matched you perfectly. That night he had an extra portion of stir fry and rice leftover in your mailbox with a note saying, ‘make sure you eat something doll’, knowing you would check it before going inside and you would hopefully eat it. 

The next day after the longest shift he possibly could have had, he checked his mailbox and saw the container was back in his mailbox, he frowned thinking that you didn’t eat it. He saw a yellow post-it note attached to the top ‘thanks for looking out for me, btw the stir fry was delicious’ and he smiled, picking up the container he noticed it was quite weighty. He opened it and saw a slice of red velvet cake, keeping the grin on his face, he closed the container, gathered his mail and went inside. 

And that started the entire back and forth exchange of goods.

He would cook dinner for you to enjoy at night when you come home and leave it for you, the next day he got his container back with a form of a baked good.

Everyday on his way home, he was thinking of things to make you to impress you, there were lasagnas, soups with garlic bread, steaks with mashed potatoes, and he always went above and beyond to make it with love for you.

You on the other hand found it so sweet and kept giving him cute little desserts you would bake such as cupcakes, cheesecakes, and cookies, and when you couldn’t bake anything, you would make sure to pick something up on your way home from work.

This clockwork happened almost all the time.

➽───────────────❥

Bucky was in the break room at work with Sam and Steve, and Bucky couldn’t help but gush about how cute he found you.

“Aw Baby Bucky has a crushy wushy on his cute neighbour,” Sam said, reaching for his cheeks to pinch them.

“Knock it off Wilson,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes.

“Buck, I haven’t seen you this happy since Dot,” Bucky winced at the mention of his ex.

“She seems to like you, and enjoys your company, make a move,” Steve said, nudging his ribs.

“She doesn’t look at me that way,” Bucky muttered.

“Buck, she literally ignores what everyone said and openly hangs out with you, I think she likes you.” Bucky felt a little string of hope when Steve said that, but couldn’t help but feel insecure.

He was 34 years old, slightly overweight and had a prosthetic and was IT director for Stark Industries. You on the other hand were slightly younger than him at 30 years old, but, god took his time creating you, you were beautiful inside and out, had a killer personality and worked as a fashion director for one of the biggest fashion chains in North America. You two were on two different levels and you were nowhere in his league.

“So Buck, when are you gonna cook me dinner?” Sam said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Not in your lifetime.” Bucky retaliated, feeling a buzz in his pocket, he pulled out his phone and saw it was you and instantly smiled.

“His girlfriend messaged him, that's why he’s all smiley” Sam nudged him once again.

The three of them continued talking until Brock Rumlow, the resident dick and lead prosthetic designer walked in. 

Brock pushed passed Bucky to get something from the cabinets. Brock had an attitude problem with everyone and it was still surprising that he worked at Stark Industries. “James Barnes has a girlfriend? Does she close her eyes when she fucks you? Because you are hideous.”

“Rumlow,” Steve warned.

And that’s when Bucky felt coffee trickle down his skin and the scent of coffee engulfed his nose. “Hope your girlfriend cleans you up, she might as well throw you out.” Rumlow said pushing past him.

“Buck-” Sam started before making a beeline to the mens washroom.

Bucky stood in the mirror and looked at himself, his hair was drenched with coffee, his cream coloured cardigan and white shirt were covered in brown coffee splotches, his pants and shoes got minimal damage. He dunked his head over the sink and tried washing out his hair.

As his head was over the sink, there were tears in his eyes. Of course his neighbour wouldn’t like him, he was weak. He looked in the mirror knowing he would have to sit in his coffee stained outfit for the rest of the day.

“Buck? Stark wants to see you whenever you come out.” Steve said from the other side of the door, giving him some space. 

He managed to murmur out an “okay” knowing Steve’s quality hearing would have heard him. It took him a solid 30 minutes before he made his way to Stark’s office. “You wanted to see me?” Bucky said walking in.

“Ah yes, I heard about the coffee incident in the break room.” Tony said. 

“Sorry about that.”

“Not your fault, it’s Rumlow’s. Also how do you deal with Sam? I heard him screeching from here about how he was gonna, and I quote ‘Brock Rumlow’s shit so hard he wouldn’t have seen it coming.’” 

“A lot of alcohol and tuning him out.” 

“Makes sense.” Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet and handed him a card, “Take this, go buy something to wear. Can’t have my top IT director brewing in coffee like he’s a piece of tiramisu.”

“No Stark I can’t take this, you’ve done a lot already.”

“Nonsense. Take Sam and Steve with you, I can’t hear Sam screeching about fighting someone for the rest of the day, that’s gonna be one hell of an HR complaint I’m gonna have to deal with.”

“You got it.”

➽───────────────❥

And that is how Bucky, Sam and Steve spent two hours walking around Brooklyn attempting to find clothes for Bucky. Bucky couldn’t find anything that made him feel right, it was emphasizing his stomach which he didn’t want to show off.

This kept making Bucky smaller, and he didn’t want to be out anymore. Sam kept trying to hype him and Steve was reassuring that he looked fine. But after that altercation in the break room, they understood that he wasn’t in the best mood and just wanted to go back to the office and have this Friday be over. 

➽───────────────❥

You were sitting in a tiny coffee shop called Dream Bean with Wanda and Natalia planning for the next collection that was supposed to drop for Valentine’s Day, the ‘Love Bomb’ collection.

“I’m thinking colours like pastels, reds, pinks, whites.” Wanda said.

“So take Valentine’s Day and throw it into a collection?” Natalia said.

“Pretty much.” You stated.

“Makes sense.” Natalia stated, taking a sip of her iced latte.

“Is this more date night and sexy lingerie?” Wanda asked, working out a sketch in her notebook.

“I mean a lot of people are single on Valentine’s Day, so why not make it a feel good collection.” You stated nonchalantly, sitting back into your chair and taking a sip of your iced coffee.

“Oh, I love having a creative genius,” Wanda exclaimed, brushing her pencil gently across the sketchbook.

“I mean it's a part of my job description,” you laughed, taking a sip out of your iced coffee and looked out the window. You noticed a familiar face. Bucky. Your heart skipped a beat, until you saw that he was drenched in coffee. Your heart hurt for him.

“Hey? Hello? Anyone home?” Natalia waved in front of your face. 

“Oh sorry.”

“You okay?” Wanda asked.

“I just saw my neighbour-”

“Oh the cute one you’re so smitten by?” Nat wiggled her brows. 

“The dinner one! Aw he’s so cute and treats her well.” Wanda said.

“He was covered in coffee and he seemed upset.” You started, wishing you could do something for him. That’s when it clicked with you, “Do we have any samples from the ‘No Guidance’ collection?”

“I think there are copies in my office.”

➽───────────────❥

Bucky got back to work and sat in his chair, and ran his hands over his face. He felt horrible and nothing could make this day better. Rumlow’s words managed to hit deeper than he wanted it too. Usually, Bucky was very dismissive about what Rumlow said, but now that you were a part of his life, it hit deeper.

The elevator dinged, signalling someone was coming up. Secretly he was hoping it was the grim reaper ready to come collect him. “Package for-” He read the package, “James Barnes?” 

“That’s me.” He said not even looking up. When he did, he was greeted by a massive navy blue box with a yellow ribbon tied around it, and saw some white text but couldn’t make out what it said due to the distance. “Thank you.”

He noticed that the box said ‘Insurrexon’ and was confused. That was the company that you worked for. He untied it and was greeted by a white paper with black pen ink staining the paper on top of the red wrapping paper protecting whatever was in the box. 

‘Was in a meeting when I saw you drenched in coffee and wanted to help you out. Hope you like it. Also, can’t have my chef soaking wet, it could get him sick’ and it was signed off with your name. 

His heart burst with awe at the fact she went out of her way to get him clothes so he wasn’t wet. Part of him was embarrassed that she saw him in that state, but the joy overtook that feeling. He took the clothes to the washroom and was going to change.

He worried that he wouldn’t fit in it, but as he slid the items on, it fit. Maybe you did have a good knowledge at measurements and knew what would fit.

He looked himself in the mirror and grinned at the fact she picked an all black outfit with a light washed denim jacket and some black combat boots, he was upset at the fact that she knew how big he was, but was overtaken by happiness as his neighbour, someone he took such an interest in, picked this out, out of the goodness of her own heart.

Once he walked out of the washroom he was whistled at by Sam, “Looking good girl.”

“I thought you didn’t like anything.” Steve stated.

“His lovely girl at Insurrexon sent him stuff,” Sam said, holding up the note with his hands.

“Hey!” Bucky grabbed it. “None of your business.”

“Alright ‘chef’.” Sam mocked.

Bucky reached out to slap Sam’s head. “Hey, hey, hey, no workplace violence!” Steve said, breaking it up. 

➽───────────────❥

It was the end of the day and Bucky had to drop reports back off to Tony. He walked in and gave him all the files that Tony needed. “Is that Insurrexon?”

“Yeah,” he responded.

“Look at you go, getting into the big leagues, huh?” Tony punched his shoulder, “Wait, was it on my credit card?” Tony nearly cried out.

“No-”

“Wait, this collection didn’t even come out yet. How did you get this and how much did you spend?” Tony cried out.

“One of my friends work for Insurrexon and sent it to me for free.”

“Was it a lady friend?” Tony wiggled his eyebrows. Bucky blushed, “IT WAS! But honestly Tinman, you had a long day. Go home, get some rest, spend some time with your girl. I’ll see you Monday.” Tony said shooing Bucky out of his office. 

➽───────────────❥

Upon reaching home, Bucky realized how expensive the brand truly was, and the amount of hype behind it. He also realized that Tony wasn’t lying and this was a collection that didn’t even come out yet, yet you still gave him a copy of it. He paced around his living room, even though his paycheque said he made quite the amount of money, the worth of this collection laughed at that amount. He couldn’t possibly pay it back. He was running through scenarios on how to bring it up and pay her back. He finally looked back at the clothing that he folded and put into a bag to return, and saw Alpine looking up at him, “What should I do, bud?” Alpine just meowed back at him before leaving and returning to wherever he was.

It was close to eight pm when he noticed that you came back home. Your car was in your driveway, and your living room light was on. He had to pump himself up before walking over to your door, he knocked on it three times before you opened it.

You looked even more beautiful, and he didn’t even know it was possible. There you were, makeup free, hair dampened signalling you showered, a pair of black shorts, and an oversized grey NASA shirt. He noticed you were on the phone and mouthed, “I’ll come back later.” He turned around and was about to walk off. 

That’s when you grabbed his flesh wrist and pulled him inside. Closing the door behind him, he kicked off his shoes and admired your living room. He was unsure if he should sit, he looked at you as you were talking to whoever it was. You looked back at him, and signalled for him to sit down. He cautiously sat on your couch. Pen in your hand, you wrote on the post-it note.

“That’s just gonna delay ‘FIVE’ and we’re going to have to push back ‘Love Bomb’ which will have to be scrapped until next year,” you said running your hand through your hair.

Whoever was on the other line said something, you sighed, “It’s a Friday night, I can’t worry about this. Send out an email scheduling an interview on Tuesday for all the directors of different divisions.”

He admired you, even in comfortable clothes, you were a business woman strategizing ways to not prevent any delays. “Yeah, so me, Nat, Wanda, Okoye, Nebula, Val, Carole and Erik.” You wrote it down on your little post-it note, “Alright, thanks Gamora. Have a good weekend.” You said before hanging up. 

You turned around being greeted by Bucky sitting there, “Hi,” he said letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

“Hi there. Sorry about that, work has my ass on a platter right now,” you said, chuckling, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“It’s okay,” he looked down and remembered why he came, “You didn’t have to do what you did.”

“And what was it I did?” You asked ridding your dining room table of the computer and a few sheets of paper that were littered across the table.

“Give me clothes.” He responded watching your movements.

“Bucky, it’s not a problem. You looked upset and I wanted to help you,” and after those words left your mouth, his heart nearly exploded into tiny pieces.

“I can’t possibly pay you back for this. Even Tony said it was too expensive.” Bucky said rambling. 

“Bucky, do not worry about it. You don’t have to pay me back,” you said gently.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“If you want to do something, hang out with me,” you said.

“Pardon?”

“We could order dinner? Dessert? Mario Kart? I am open to criticism.” You said jokingly.

“I’d like that,” Bucky said grinning from ear to ear.

“Alright soldier, what are you craving?”

“Pizza?” He said.

“Alright.” 

➽───────────────❥

Of course it was a Friday night and your favourite pizza joint had an hour wait time before they could make your order, and don’t forget the 30 minute delivery window. And honestly, you both didn’t mind and enjoyed each other’s company. Yet here you were sitting on your couch playing Mario Kart together. “I fell off again,” he grumbled at rainbow road.

“Hah- oh no,” you said, getting blue-shelled.

“I just fell off, how can I possibly fall off again?” He exclaimed.

“No no no, don’t red shell me.” You said, rushing to the finish line. The moment you crossed it, ‘FINISH’ flashed across the screen. 

Bucky got up at the sound of the knock on the door, “Pizza’s here.”

“Oh, use my card to pay!” You said going to get your wallet from your bag.

“No Doll, I owe you,” he went to the door.

You stood hovered over your bag due to your cheeks burning from him calling you ‘Doll’. You went to the kitchen and grabbed two plates, and two cups getting ready to set the table. Bucky joined you in the dining room with the extra large pepperoni pizza, wings and soda. 

For some reason, to the both of you, this felt right. Like this is something that you two should be constantly doing. You two were laughing at childhood stories, work stories and other funny things that have happened to you two. He helped you clean up the table and wrap up the extras. 

You took out two pieces of plum cobbler and warmed it up, “Ice cream?” you asked.

“Do you have?” Bucky asked.

“What kind of girl would I be if I didn’t have any?” You joked.

“You have a point,” he laughed.

You two were back at the dining room table. Bucky let out a heavenly groan as he took a bite of the plum cobbler, “I love plum so much, and this tastes amazing.”

“Plum is that fruit that you can always enjoy,” you said, taking a bite of your own.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, where do you get these desserts? They’re amazing,” he said, taking another bite.

You sheepishly said, “I bake the majority of them.”

“They’re amazing, doll. Maybe you should get out of the fashion industry and get into baking.” He joked.

“I don’t know about that part,” you chuckled, “Wanda and Nat might have my head on a stick if I leave.”

“You guys are that close?” Bucky asked.

“Practically attached by the hip. We met in freshman year of college because of this stupid textile course. Here we are ten years later, in the same company. What about you? Any close friends that are work friends but would also commit manslaughter if you left the company?”

He laughed at the comment, “I have Steve, him and I have been friends since childhood and he kept getting beat up in alleys and I had to save him. Then there’s Sam, the drama queen. Him and I met through Steve.”

You nodded your head, signalling you understood. “I don’t want to intrude, but what happened today? Why was there coffee all over you?”

He shifted in his seat, “Oh, uh.”

“You don’t have to answer. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m feeling much better now, sugar,” he said, grabbing your hand and giving a gentle squeeze with his flesh hand. 

“That’s all that matters,” You said squeezing back

The two of you continued eating your dessert in harmony, occasionally making jokes.

➽───────────────❥

Bucky didn’t want to go, but it was nearly 1:30 am and he should probably let you sleep. He was strategically trying to leave the clothes on your couch without you noticing, which obviously failed.

You leaned against your door with one bag containing the clothes you gave him and the other containing leftovers and a good portion of the plum cobbler he seemed to enjoy. “Goodnight,” he said, prior to trying to walk off your porch. 

“Wait, Bucky?” You asked.

He turned around, “Yes sugar?” 

You hugged him, at first he couldn’t believe it, but knew this possibly wouldn’t happen again and hugged back. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Anytime doll,” he was so ecstatic, he didn’t notice that you slipped the two bags into his hands. 

“See you around?” You asked, sheepishly.

“Of course.”

You let out a smile, “Night Bucky,” before the door closed.

He smiled, before realizing she slipped him food and the clothes. He shook his head and trekked his way home.

➽───────────────❥

Over the next 2 weeks, you and Bucky got so much more closer. He came to Insurrexon when she was in and could take breaks. Other than that you tried to meet up at random diners, restaurants, bakeries, wherever was convenient to the both of you.

➽───────────────❥

It was a Friday afternoon and Bucky was irritated, Brock was making sly comments about him knowing that Bucky heard it. And on several occasions, Steve had to hold back Sam from swinging and Sam stating that, “Rumlow isn’t ready for this smoke.”

Bucky sat at his desk looking over the file Tony gave him this morning and making notes in the margin for him and Bruce to look over once Monday hit. He felt someone’s presence next to him, “Brock I don’t wanna deal with this right now,” he mumbled out, not even looking up.

“Brock? From Pokémon? I always thought I was more of a Rosa from Black and White two,” you joked.

Once he heard the familiar voice, his head snapped up and grinned, leaning back into his chair, “Thought you were more of a May from Sapphire.”

You laughed, “Is that my favourite fashion director from Insurrexon?” Tony called out.

“Of course it is,” you turned to Tony, smiled and pushed back your hair.

“Are you bringing me some new designs? Or are you terrorizing my IT director?” He said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I prefer the second one.”

Bucky enjoyed the banter between you and Tony, “Then you are banished from my company.”

“Before you banish me, can you at least let me steal your IT director for an hour for coffee? I will bring him back in perfect condition.” You pleaded.

Tony pretended to think, “Fine, I’ll give you an hour and fifteen, but I want him back in mint condition.”

You said, “Scouts honour.”

Bucky got up and stretched his knees, “If anything comes up, let Sam deal with it until I get back.”

“I would rather not, I’ll pass it off to Banner and hopefully he doesn’t rage out.” Tony joked.

“See you at the Rocket fashion show in a few weeks?” You asked Tony.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll bring Tinman with me,” he joked.

“Doll, meet me at the elevator? I want to pass my file to Banner before I leave.” Bucky asked.

“Of course. Bye Tony,” you said before walking back to the elevator you just rode up.

Bucky grabbed the file off the desk, “So this is the girl who has my Bucky Barnes smitten?” Tony said, examining his movement. 

He blushed and stuttered, “N-no, where did you get that from?”

“Buck, you literally called her doll, and the way you look at her says otherwise,” Tony said, “Don’t let her slip out of her fingers, she is a wonderful person and I can tell that she genuinely likes you back,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet and handed him a card, “It’s on me, now go get your girl.”

“Thanks Tony,” Bucky murmured out.

“Don’t worry Buck, now I will pass this on to the big guy,” Tony spoke, taking the file out of his hand.

Bucky met you at the elevator, you were leaning against the wall on your phone waiting for him. He finally took in how gorgeous you looked today. A quarter sleeve baby blue button up that was fashionably tucked into the high waisted dark blue skinny jeans, some black heels and rose gold jewelry to accent it all. “You ready Doll?”

“Been ready, let’s get some coffee. You look like you need it.” You said.

He smiled and pressed the button for down, you two were laughing and Bucky’s face dropped when the elevator doors opened. Rumlow. He got in, and you could feel the tension. You grabbed his hand and reassuringly squeezed it and kept your fingers interlocked.

Earlier when you were walking in the building, you ran into Steve and Sam by accident who were coming in from their ‘afternoon stroll’ and Sam went off and told you everything about Rumlow. “You know you don’t deserve someone like Chubs over there, why don’t you get with me instead, I’ll show you a good time.” Rumlow said.

“And you don’t deserve a job here, I can’t wait to go to Tony and let him know there’s a harassment claim against one of his employees. He wouldn’t like to hear that his favourite company can’t be providing him fashion anymore because of a harassment claim, would he now?” You gritted.

“Bitch,” Rumlow muttered before getting off.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Bucky said, trying to let go of your hand.

You kept a grip on his hand, “I don’t have to, but I do. You don’t deserve any of that.” “So where do we wanna go?” Bucky said. 

“Up to you,” you smiled at him.

“Well, we are going somewhere expensive because Tony gave me his card,” he chuckled.

You laughed, “Can’t wait.”

➽───────────────❥

You stuck out your tongue, turned back around and walked in the direction of your home.

You and Bucky enjoyed your time at the cafe. He ordered a large black coffee and a plum tart, you ordered a large iced coffee and a rainbow bit cake. His hour was up and you were walking him back to Stark Industries. Your left hand in his right hand, everything about this seems normal.

You two laughed in harmony. You turned towards him, “I’m done for the rest of the day. Movie tonight?” You asked.

“Of course.”

Bucky was about to walk off, before you called out, “Hey Bucky?”

He turned back, “Yeah doll?”

You reached out and grabbed his hand, and pulled him closer to you. You planted a soft kiss on his lips. His eyes widened, upon realization, he kissed you back.

You pulled away, “I promised Tony his IT director back, I’ll be waiting for you to come back.”

He kissed your knuckles, “I can’t wait.”

You were walking away, but turned back. “Also, don’t kill Sam. He told me everything.”

He blushed then realization hit him as to what you just said and let out a loud groan, “You two are the sneakiest.”

[crazy4dragons]

I’m Fine

Astrid says she’s fine, but Hiccup knows she needs a little extra care before going into battle. Hiccstrid. Rating: G (pure fluff!) Set after Astrid’s rescue in RTTE “Night of the Hunters.”

Written for March of Dragons ’21. Prompt: Rescue (Mar 22-24).

“Dragon hunters…” Astrid mumbled, pressing a hand to her throbbing head. “They have Stormfly.” Her eyes widening, she tried to jump off the mattress, only to be stopped by a gentle touch on her shoulder.

“Take it easy, Astrid,” Hiccup soothed, easing her back against the pillow. “You had a rough day out there.”

“Uh, no offense Hiccup, but I don’t think we have time to take it easy,” Fishlegs ventured cautiously. “We don’t know where the dragon hunters are and —”

“Shut up, Fishface,” Snotlout cut in. “If Hiccup says it’s best for Astrid to take it easy, then it’s best for Astrid to take it easy.”

“And since when did you listen to Hiccup?” Tuffnut asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, when?” echoed Ruffnut.

Hiccup sighed. “Stop,” he ordered. “Everyone stop. Give Astrid some space.”

The dragon riders stared back at him.

“Go!” he insisted, prompting Fishlegs and the twins to spring into action. “Saddle your dragons and start looking for signs of the hunters. Astrid and I will follow when she’s ready.”

“I’m ready now,” the blonde insisted, pushing Hiccup’s arm away from her. “I need to find my dragon. I need to —” She attempted to stand, but her pounding headache, along with the fact that she hadn’t eaten in almost twenty-four hours, caused her to collapse back onto the sheets, which were wet from her still-soggy clothing. Someone — she guessed Hiccup — had helped her out of her boots and armor while she was unconscious, but she was still in her leggings and tunic from that morning.

“Don’t worry, Astrid. I’ll find Stormfly for you,” Snotlout boasted, pointing to himself. “Anything for my favorite Viking lady.”

“I believe I asked you to saddle up your dragon,” said Hiccup, narrowing his eyes.

“Gods, you’re bossy,” muttered Snotlout, turning around and following the others out of Astrid’s hut.

The blonde stared blankly into space, her head buzzing. “Hiccup?”

“Yes?”

“I’m fine. I swear.”

“Look at me, Astrid.” Hiccup rested a hand on hers. “It wouldn’t be very practical for you to go out and face the dragon hunters in this condition.”

“I said I’m fine!” she snapped.

“Shh,” he hushed, pressing a soothing kiss into her hair. “Let’s first get you a drink of water. And then you’ve gotta get out of these wet clothes and into a hot bath before you catch a cold.”

In an instant, he was gone, presumably to fetch her water and draw a bath. Astrid took the opportunity to peel off her soggy things, barely noticing the new cuts and bruises she’d acquired during her adventure. Naked, she wrapped up in a spare blanket that was within her reach from the bed, breathing a sigh of relief at the feeling of the cozy furs on her clammy skin.

“I have Toothless heating your bath.”

Astrid jumped at the sound of Hiccup’s voice, which interrupted her as she was about to doze off. Propping herself up against her pillow, blanket still cocooned around her, she took the cup he offered her and pressed it to her lips. At first, she took only a sip. But then, quickly realizing that her mouth was parched and her throat scratchy, she downed the whole thing.

“You want more?” Hiccup asked, taking the empty cup.

She nodded.

“Got it.” With that, he was gone again, returning a moment later with a refill. “I see you got out of your wet clothes,” he noted, nodding towards the pile of soggy garments on the floor. “I’ll take them to the wash bin for you if you’d like.”

A light blush covered Astrid’s cheeks at the realization that her undergarments were resting on the top of the pile. “No, uh…it’s alright. I’ll get them later.” She tugged the furs closer to her body as she drank.

“Okay,” shrugged Hiccup. “By the way, how do you like your baths? Bubbles, oils, just water…”

“Bubbles,” she mumbled.

“Bubbles it is. I’ll go finish that for you. And while you’re washing up, I’ll change your sheets and grab you some hot mutton and tea, okay? I have leftovers at my hut from dinner last night.”

Astrid nodded, prompting Hiccup to disappear again. By the time he returned, she’d finished her second cup of water, and the pounding in her head had decreased just enough for her to stand.

“You gonna be okay getting downstairs?”

She shrugged.

“Here.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her while she shuffled downstairs and into her small washroom, which was little more than a closet. She didn’t need that much space; after all, it was only her living in the hut. And besides, most of her baths were taken at the secret hot spring she’d discovered soon after moving to Dragon’s Edge.

She managed a small smile at the sight of the steaming tub. It looked so inviting, brimming with hot water and bubbles. Hiccup had done a good job preparing it.

“You’re good from here, right?” he checked, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I don’t want to intrude on your privacy or anything.”

“I’ll be fine,” Astrid assured.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it, then. Do you need anything before I go? A towel, maybe, or clean clothes?”

She nodded towards the small stack of towels tucked away on a shelf. “I’ll be fine,” she repeated.

“Well, I’ll see you in a little bit. Enjoy.” With that, he turned and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Once alone, Astrid quickly unwrapped herself from the furs and sank into the bath, a sigh of relief sweeping over her as the warm, bubbly water lapped at her skin. But now was no time to relax; she needed to wash and get dressed as quickly as possible so she could go back out and find her dragon before it was too late.

The thought of Stormfly made her stomach knot, and tears suddenly sprung to her eyes. She shouldn’t have listened to Hiccup. She should’ve gone out there as soon as she was conscious. But in the back of her still-foggy mind, she also knew that he was right. A weak, dehydrated Viking was hardly fit to be a Viking at all.

“Astrid?”

Hiccup’s voice, accompanied by a rap on the door, snapped her out of her thoughts. “Yeah?”

“I’m heading to my hut to grab you some food. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She nodded.

“Astrid? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Alright, well I’ll be back. I’ll have Toothless stay behind in case you need anything.”

Astrid heard the click of his metal leg as he walked away, followed by the sound of her front door opening and closing. Sniffling, she began to scrub the salty ocean water and debris out of her hair, a task that took longer than she expected. Once finished, she started on her body, rising from the water to properly scrub. It was then that she became aware of the little scratches all over her arms, the nasty scrape on her right knee, and the large bruise on her hip, presumably all from struggling to grasp the log in the water.

As she made a mental note to clean out her cuts with some ointment, she heard the door creak again. “Hiccup?” she checked. She guessed by Toothless’ silence that it was indeed just his rider returning, but she wanted to be sure of it.

“Yeah, it’s just me,” Hiccup called. “You doing alright?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She sank back into the water. Between getting hydrated and soaking in the bath, her throbbing headache had now subsided to a dull pain that she was sure would fully vanish once she had something to eat.

After rinsing off, Astrid climbed out of the tub and wrapped a fluffy towel around her shivering body. She hoped it was just the cool air hitting her dripping skin that was making her chilly; a fever wasn’t something she had time to handle right now, not with Stormfly missing.

Opening the door, she was met with the sight of Hiccup standing over the fire, heating the mutton and preparing water for tea.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Mmm-hmm,” Astrid mumbled through chattering teeth as she blushed and dug her bare toes into the rug beneath her feet. Being a warrior, she’d learned to embrace her battle wounds. But for some reason standing in just a towel in front of Hiccup, her scraped arms and knee left exposed, prompted shyness.

“Cold?”

She nodded.

“Go get dressed,” he urged. “I wasn’t sure if you had any clean battle clothes, so I brought one of my tunics. It’s on your bed if you need it.”

Astrid nodded again and quickly shuffled up to her room, silently thanking Hiccup for keeping the fire going in there. After cleaning out her cuts and bandaging her knee, she put on a set of clean underclothes, then slipped into a pair of her wool leggings and Hiccup’s tunic, which was just a bit large on her. Noticing that the boots she’d worn earlier were still soggy, she pulled out a spare pair and carried them downstairs, along with cozy socks.

“You’re just in time,” Hiccup said, holding up a steaming plate of mutton. “Come eat.”

Astrid placed her socks and shoes by the door and took a seat at the table, the sight of food suddenly making her realize how hungry she was. Grabbing a fork, she dug into the tender mutton.

“Is it good?”

She nodded as she took a sip of tea.

“I can braid your hair for you while you eat if you like,” Hiccup ventured cautiously. “I mean, you probably want to get out there and help the others look for Stormfly as soon as you can.” He bit his lip.

Astrid glanced down at her loose tresses. Until that moment, she hadn’t even realized that she’d forgotten to put her hair up. “Yeah, that would actually be nice.”

Hiccup silently pulled a chair behind her and, sitting down, parted her locks into three sections. He’d never braided hair before, but having woven braids into leather belts and vests he’d sewed, he managed to nearly replicate Astrid’s everyday look.

“There,” he announced, standing up and placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you.” The blonde pushed her empty plate aside and swallowed the rest of her tea before turning around and offering a small smile.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Hiccup insisted, his cheeks turning pink. “I’m here for you, Astrid. Always.”

Maybe her brain was still foggy from the accident, or maybe she was feeling bold, but some sudden emotion prompted her to cup a hand under his chin and deliver a quick peck onto his lips.

A wide, crooked grin appeared on Hiccup’s face. “What…what was that for?”

“For everything,” Astrid replied, grabbing her axe. “Now let’s go get my dragon back.”

[honoredbastard]

ෆ self indulgent and entilted

characters — bonten!rindou haitani  + *yakuro nanami (oc) .

content and warnings   — mentions of drugs ( yo sanzu ), clubbing, stalker mention, mention(s) of drugging, yelling, angst(?), swearing, and so on.

note  — sorry for the dark content hhhhh, it came with the idea of ackerman being a yakuza that hated bonten and wanted yakuro gone. it may actually be apart of the fic i’m outlining..... these men hold my heart and WILL NOT LET GO OF IT. also they just like dive into my brain 24/7. help i had a fit over what looked best for three hours- at this point i’mma probably make a lil sum’ for sanzu. i love this man and i can’t stop having him appear in my stories that involve bonten. like this guy is 24/7 in the back of my mind.

                                         *Yakuro Nanami.                                            he/they/bun! 

                  Now playing ayanami  — by satin

rindou woke up first to yakuro wearing his bunny ears and a bunny pajama set that he seemed to just slip on before marching into bed. it was cute, but there was still smudges of makeup on his face and the dark circles of terrible inconsistent sleep. rindou sighed, brushing away blonde parts of hair that yakuro was chewing on. 

“yakuro.” rindou lightly pushed yakuro’s shoulder, trying to wake the boy in his semi bunny work attire. “rindou? rindou....” yakuro groaned, his head searched for rindou’s lap or hand that he could lean into. just exist near, to feel his skin and be aware of his warmth, that he was alive and not dead. that he stayed the whole night. “morning doll.” rindou smiled quietly, brushing his fingers over the boy’s hair. 

there was a knock on the door, “come in” as if that was a full offer to entangle himself with the couple he busted through the door and made a running start to jump onto the couple. “HI!” “i don’t do the touching, i’ll sit and pour you your drink and be your personal bunny. please treat the bunny well and we will have no problems. if they bunny feels uncomfortable the bunny has full rights to leave and find a new client. if you understand these rules please enjoy your bunny.”

yakuro stated as if he was at work. it was grilled into his brain and always had to repeat it infront of new clients. working at a bunny suit club was not it, almost rolling over onto sanzu. “bad work day?” “bad work day.” rindou confirmed sanzu’s suspicions with three simple  words. “yaku..” “no.” “yakuuu.” sanzu scooted in between the two, poking yakuro’s cheeks aggressively. he seemed sober, thank god. 

rindou shrugged the mans presence off and trudged to the bathroom to wash and whatnot. “you have another shift, ran told me to wake you up. “that’s not my problem. tell my boss to go fuck himself with a dildo filled with nails.” sanzu’s eyes widened, that was aggressive. although at the same time sorta funny?

“he said he’d cut off your shift times and cut back on how much money you make plus tips.” sanzu repeated what ran had informed him of, with a quite frustrated appearance.  “THAT FUCKER WILL NOT!” raising up from his laying position, yakuro ran into the hallway stumbling here and there from improper pace. 

“i’d love to see him try i swear if he even tries reducing my pay i’ll quit the whole fucking job how about that? i never liked this bullshit bunny shit anyways, it’s annoying when the customers try to touch and then you get stalkers.” yaku was mumbling to hell and back from his bosses call, waving to ran who nodded. making himself a bento before heading off on a small mission.

yaku threw open the washroom door and started searching for his bunny suit attire. the club’s theme was rainbow today so he washed a deep red suit with a black add-on tail and clip on black ears (which were foldable too. yakuro always folds one ear.) when yakuro made it back to his room, sanzu was gone and rindou was crouching near the bottom drawer.

“whatcha lookin for?” yakuro asked curiously, sitting beside the man who made a mess beside him “looking for a red suit now, i’m trying to match with you subtly.” cute- that was the only thinking yaku could think of this man who is a part of a criminal organization/gang. who woulda thought?

“i think you might be better with either a red with black tie or a deeper red of a suit.” yakuro suggested, getting up from his sitting position, joints cracking. “or black would go well, after all i’m only wearing red heel, a red body suit, and red makeup. the rest is black!” yakuro called out to rindou who was still crouched as he exited the room. taking into account his suggestions, he went with a more black with red accents attire.

           ާlocation, bunny palace! ෆ             late night, 11pm.

“here in bunny palace we have many bunnies to suit your taste! male, female, and even those who do not define themselves! run and created by the ackermans.” bunny palace is under the hands of those with the ackerman name. mikasa, the current owner, is softer on us than many. although the music blaring is not something you can get used to.

“hello! i’m moonie! it’s so good to meet you, are you new here?” yakuro was tired, it was about 4 more hours until he shift ended and he was already hungry again. salad’s really don’t fill you up especially when you wolf them down. his feet ached and cried out each time he took another step, he wanted to lay down and use rindou as his personal body pillow.... rindou! ‘i hope he’s okay.’ he thought, placing himself beside the very important client his boss claimed. “oh i am! it’s nice too meet you moonie.”

“it’s so good to meet you too! we have a few rules here that our bunnies tell each new client: i’ll sit and pour you your drink and be your personal bunny. please treat the bunny well and we will have no problems. if they bunny feels uncomfortable the bunny has full rights to leave and find a new client. if you understand these rules please enjoy your bunny. please keep touching to a minimal. do not force your bunny drinks or food. respect your bunny. is that doable?” yakuro asked with big puppy eyes, a big smile, and high pitched voice. “of course!” the customer happily said, hand already on his thigh.

i am SO uncomfortable was all that yaku could think about, his eyes flicking between the customer and each place his gross hands laid upon. squeezing every-so often like it was a pleasuring act for yaku. before he removed the man’s hand, he restrained himself. drawing a large breath before responding to the customer. “i’m so sorry sir! shall i get you something to drink?” yaku pouted, “if you’d like, moonie!” i’m saved.

yakuro smiled and stood up, “why of course! i’ll be right back!” like a breath of relief, he rushed to the staff room. he waved to some girls, “not on stage today moonie?” one asked, a baby stripper new to the bunny palace club. “yeah! boss was all: ‘act cutesy, be close, allow touching this once. there are really important customers here today.’ like thanks for threatening my paycheck and then saying that!”

“oh my, that’s rough babe. ackerman is always like that, it’s like she has a stick up her ass.” one of the older strippers that had been with yakuro since he started chimed in, “you’re right!” yaku chuckled, leaning closer into his vanity mirror to adjust his lipstick and have a chance to message rindou. 

40 missed messages. “i’m so fucked.” “why’s that babe?” “i may have forgot to message rindou telling him ackerman added hours onto my shift.” the room grew tense, “that’s awful? read his messages.” sei suggested, “might cool him off if he’s angry.

“alright!” yaku sighed with a smile, opening the messages. to his surprise, rindou wasn’t angry but instead worried that a client had gotten too touchy and triggered yakuro. after all, ran did inform rindou about the bits and pieces that sanzu did not tell yaku. “whew, i’m good! i’m safe. he’s just worried....” sei and bab took a loud sigh and began laughing. “BUT I’M FUCKED.” “really? that’s great! now go out! your client must be waiting.” 

yup the girls took it that way. “i will! don’t worry don’t worry. i just hope sanzu doesn’t buy the whole club.” “he won’t now go!” sei pushed out yaku who glanced over at the client who finished the previous bottle. his nose was red and was slightly swaying back and forth.

walking up to the bar, yakuro ran into polaris. “polar!” “moonie.” “can you get something for my client? he seems to be a lightweight.” “sure, i’m sure he wouldn’t mind beer.” polar sat down the cup he was wiping back and forth to keep busy.

“the bar isn’t very busy huh?” “oh no, it’s just we got our best girls today dancing and the waitresses and working ten times harder. it works out for both of them and neither of them have to fight each other about unfair pay. tomorrow you’ll be our best so good luck.” polar smiled earnestly to add to the words of encouragement, sliding over the foaming beer over the black marbled counter. 

“thanks! i’ll need it.” turning with the drink in hand, yaku noticed the man’s disgruntled face. he looked as if the whole world was going to blow up and he was watching the countdown. ‘act cutesy, act cutesy, act cutesy.’ it was a constant mantra in his head before he sat down and opened his mouth.

“what could be wrong sir?” yaku felt like rolling his eyes into oblivion, he could care less. “oh it’s just something wrong with the gang.” “oh my, a yakuza?” boring, yaku fake gasped handing over the bear to the angered man. “yeah!” he said pridefully with a chuckle, gulping the drink down and slamming it down. “something about bonten this and that and one of our men died.”

now that’s interesting. yaku felt like walking out to just go see sanzu, it felt like everything was reminding yakuro of him. hell even the purple lights were. but alas he was stuck eyeing the entrance while the man babbled on and on about this whole yakuza shin-dig he was in. he decided to slip off his shoes because the waitresses’ assured the man that they would handle getting drinks.

it felt like hours, drink after drink the world became more hazy. yakuro grew a high tolerance because of his job but he seemed to be losing himself while the client seemed more than sober. “you.. slipped somethin, huh?” the client beside him flinched, clenching onto his bag. “w-what? are you sure you don’t have a low tolerance m-mr. moonie?” the man stammered, through gritted teeth yaku managed to huff out a ‘whatever’.

“miss. ackerman set you up? thought so, the bitch never liked me because i have a bonten member for a partner. guess i’m finally leaving this hellhole. send her my best regards, yeah?” he asked with a agitated tone. his words were laced with threats, raising slowly. “mr. moonie?” “i’m leaving, i want to leave. i have to go see rindou.” he dug the acrylic nails that were done just recently into his thigh. fuck the shoes. 

whatever was in the drink didn’t seem strong but it had yakuro in and out of conscience. the man who was once his client seemed nowhere to be found, leaving a stumbling yaku to himself. sei noticed this and dropped her waiters plate, running over to the bunny who was just about to fall. “MOONIE!” 

          ާlocation, the bonten loft.             early morning, 3am.

blue eyes fluttered open, fighting the urge to close once more. “they’re awake! rindou, they’re all good!” a familiar voice echoed throughout yakuro’s head. his body felt numb, in an attempt to speak he noticed his voice was gone. every one of his senses felt like they were being drowned under water. his eyesight was the only thing that was significantly normal.

though his contacts seemed to be taken off, leaving the blue and purple hues of yaku’s true eye colour roaming free. rindou’s footsteps were heavy and had a quick pace, the vibrations went through the bed. “yaku?” his usual docile purple eyes were filled with worry and anger mixed together, forever burning until yakuro got better.

all the man managed to do was a weak smile, his eyes blinked slowly while he stared at rindou. the two conversed, rindou’s agitation growing as his jaw clenched harder with every muffled word sanzu spoke. “i am very upset sanzu, yakuro was drugged. AGAIN!” “we can’t do anything but sit it out! we don’t even know who it was. rindou you need to calm down.” sanzu too was frustrated beyong belief.

the whole loft was filled with tension that was denser than a brick wall. everyone considered yakuro a part of bonten after two years. he even got a bonten tattoo per mikey’s request. it lays on his right shoulder which he covers up during his job with makeup despite his hatred, it was the only condition ackerman gave him before he could work at bunny palace. ackerman and bonten hated each other, seeing a bonten tattoo at the ackermans would start a war. 

“he’s quitting that job and working at our club. this is the last time i’ll EVER see him like this again.” this wasn’t the first time rindou raised his voice when he was angered by the way yakuro looked in this condition. unable to move, speak, only look plainly at the wall with a weak smile here and there.

it tore him apart from the inside out each time, it did every member living in the loft. finally after whatever happened between those two. sanzu left, rindou left as well but returned with water and began to cuddle the numb and quiet yakuro.

[moral-turpitudes]

House Calls: Part 2

A/N: This was hella long and I’m stubborn so I apologize if the spacing is a bit wonky. Nevertheless, I hope this reads well, as I’ve added some line breaks in the story to help.

Trigger Warnings: Awkward af, Angst, Fluff, Maybe Swearing? 

Word Count: 4,139 

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader 

Requested by: @captivatedbycillianmurphy​ and I think some other people so enjoy! :)

Summary: After taking care of Charlie one early morning, Y/N remembers the date she made with Thomas as a deal regarding her payment for her efforts. But it didn’t take long for it to be more than they bargained for.

Part 1 | Part 2

It was Friday evening and you’d just finished up a hectic day at the children’s hospital. You’d had 2 house calls and 4 appointments at your office almost back to back.

With a sigh of relief you sat lazily in your chair at your desk, finishing up patient reports and going over the requests from the previous couple of days. You smiled slightly when your finger traced over the name typed on the rigid paper.

“House Call Request: Mr. Thomas Shelby.”

It had been 5 days since the early house call, and your job being so busy often left you with little down time, but you quickly shuffled the papers away and took in a deep breath before picking up the phone.

“Hello, this is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, can you connect me to Mr. Thomas Shelby please?” You asked the phone operator. You heard the clicking and frazzled line as you waited, your heart racing as the seconds passed.

“Thomas Shelby.” He said tersely.

“Uh-hello...Thomas, it’s Dr. Y/L/N from a few nights ago...I was just wanting to let you know I was free.” You said, mentally slapping yourself for being so awkward. Any composure you usually had when working over the phone completely slipped your mind.

“Y/N...nice to hear from you. How about you meet me here at 7?” He asked, his voice sending your heart over the edge.

“Sounds great, I’ll see you then. Goodbye.” You said quickly as you shakily put down the phone. Your stomach was doing flips as you frantically looked at your small closet that housed extra clothes for messy house visits or appointments.

“God I hope I have something in here....” You thought to yourself as you pulled out a knee-length black dress. Your heels were in the bottom compartment and so you rummaged around until you found a pair that were dark red.

“This should do...” You whispered as you took off your white lab coat and shimmied out of your tattered blue dress. You glanced at the clock as you got ready, taking the pins out of your hair and going through your spare makeup to find a dark red lipstick and black mascara. You finished your makeup hastily, knowing it wasn’t the amount you preferred especially for meeting someone such as Thomas Shelby.

The tension inside you went away slightly as you packed up various things in your office, temporarily taking your mind off the coming plans.

With a loud dinging sound, the clock struck half past 6, signaling it was time to leave. Reluctantly, you gathered your things and put on your old black coat, taking one last look in your mirror before locking the door behind you.

The drive was a bit rocky as it was sprinkling outside, the rain drops coming down like glitter on the dark dirt roads. As you parked and got out, your heels slightly sunk into the dirt as you walked towards the steps of the shop.

When you walked in you were greeted by a woman at one of the front desks, her hair was dark and her eyes tired but alert all the same.

“Hello dear. You must be-“ She started to say, but a deep familiar voice said your name before she could.

“Y/N, welcome. This is my aunt Polly Gray, Polly this is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N.” He said, quickly putting on his coat and his flat cap, the razor blade glinting in the dim light of the shop.

“Nice to meet you Ms. Gray.” You said, smiling and holding out your hand for her to shake.

She shook back with a firm grip, her eyes seemingly boring into yours as she spoke.

“Y/N, Thomas has said so many nice things about you. Would you care for a tour?” She asked.

“I think we better get going.” Thomas said, impatiently lighting a cigarette.

“Tommy it’s the first time we’ve had a guest since sprucing up the place, let me have this one moment.” She said looking annoyed at her nephew.

“Ten minutes.” He said, glancing at you with tired eyes.

You looked around at all the desks and various piles of papers that the assistants were working on, typing what seemed to be the last of their work for the day, and you heard loud chatter in the meeting room, with men drinking and writing numbers on a board and yelling every now and then.

“This is Tommy’s office, and here’s the washrooms. No ones allowed in without knocking, but since he’s not in there we’ll sneak around.” She said smirking.

“I like what you all have done to the place, I imagine it was a bit hectic before?” You asked.

“Yes. Papers strewn everywhere, faulty lights, cracking walls, luckily we came into some money.” She said, sparing any grim details.

“I see...” you said, walking over to his desk and smiling at the picture of Charlie.

“He’s talked so much about how great you were with him. Thank you for helping him the other night.” She said walking near you.

“It was no problem, really. He’s a sweet boy.” You said, as you looked at another picture of Thomas from what must’ve been a few years ago during the war.

“I’m surprised he still has that picture, considering he threw his medals in the cut...he got sent off to France with his brothers, but I’m sure he’ll tell you about that eventually.” She said, her eyes looking a bit sad. You looked at the clock on his wall, causing you to head to the door.

“Probably not a good idea to keep him waiting eh?” You asked smiling a bit to try to lighten her mood.

“Right! Sorry, those times distract me dear. It was nice meeting you Y/N, we’ll have to introduce you to the rest of the family sometime.” She said rushing you out the door and towards the lobby.

“How was the grand tour?” He asked, eyeing Polly’s sullen face.

“It was great...so where are we going Tommy?” You asked, getting him to look at you.

“The Garrison.” He said, stomping his cigarette into the floor and nodding his cap at Polly before helping you out the door.

“So is this where you grew up?” You asked, gripping your coat tighter as the cool night air crept across your skin. The rain was coming down a bit harder now, as you all hastily walked to the bar.

“Yes, like what you see?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you and smirking as you looked only at him and not at the town he grew up in.

Your face heated up as you realized you’d been staring, quickly looking away and towards the entrance to the bar.

Once inside, you shook the droplets off your coat as the smell of smoke and various alcohols filled your lungs.

Your heart skipped a beat as he took your hand in his which was warm compared to yours and led you through the crowds and to the bar.

“What’ll it be Mr. Shelby?” The bartender asked.

“Whiskey, Irish as usual.” Tommy said.

“And for the lady?” The man asked eyeing you.

“I’ll have a gin and tonic please.” You said.

You looked around at all the people, some were drunk already, some were dancing to the barely audible music being played, and others were having quiet conversations at the small tables in the middle of the place.

“Here you go. Enjoy.” He said.

Tommy took the bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses as you took your gin, but before he could walk away you spoke.

“Wait don’t we have to pay?” You asked, looking back at the already occupied bartender.

“You’re with a Shelby...it’s on the house.” He said as he led you to a table towards the back of the bar.

He sat down and lit a cigarette before taking a swig of his whiskey, watching you as you sipped your gin.

“So...Polly mentioned you’ve been talking about me...I hope it’s not anything too terrible...” You said a small smirk playing at your lips, looking at him as he gulped down the last of his shot.

“I assure you it’s nothing bad, I’ve told them about how good you were with Charlie. You saved me from one hell of a week.” He said grinning a bit.

“How is he by the way? He looks so much like you ya know...couldn’t deny he’s yours.” You said, hoping the gin would kick in sooner rather than later so you’d be able to talk as if a an anxious hand wasn’t gripping your throat.

You could see his tired eyes light up slightly as he spoke.

“He’s doing better, his cough is going away and the fever’s gone.” He said.

“I’m happy to hear that, he’s a sweet boy.” You said.

Tommy nodded as he looked at you, making you a bit self-conscious all of a sudden. If there was one thing he truly mastered over the years it was definitely making prolonged eye contact with people.

“So, how was work today?” You asked, taking a larger sip of your gin.

“Well I was supposed to be off. I had Polly clear my schedule, but something came up. Work is never really done is it?” He asked taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Not until we’re dead.” You said.

He chuckled at that, easing your nerves a bit.

“So what did Polly show you?” He asked, pouring himself a glass of whiskey and offering you one. The night was still young so you accepted it, the brown liquid burning your throat as it went down, making your face turn up slightly.

“Not a fan of whiskey aye?” He asked, a smile forming on his face.

“Only when I’m drunk enough.” You said, the rest of your gin hitting your system a bit.

“Polly showed me around the shop as you saw, and...your office.” You said, seeing him tense up slightly.

“I loved the pictures of Charlie and you on your desk. I didn’t touch anything though, I swear it.” You said, finishing your gin.

“What’d Polly tell you?” He asked, taking another drag from his cigarette.

“She thanked me for taking care of Charlie...and she mentioned you were in France...during the war...” You said looking down at the empty glass.

When you lifted your eyes up you were met with his face turned away from you, staring out the window, lost in thought.

“I-I’m sorry Tommy. I didn’t mean to upset you.” You said, reaching for his hand. The contact broke him out of whatever thoughts he’d had, his eyes searching yours.

“It’s alright. Just a difficult time that’s all. It changes you.” He said, looking at your hand in his.

“You don’t have to talk about it unless you want to.” You said, looking at his tired eyes, knowing he probably had trouble sleeping ever since.

He took a deep breath before downing another shot, you downing yours a bit later, trying to come up with a way to make the night better.

“I was a clay-kicker. We dug tunnels and planted bombs...One night we’d heard them digging right at us, so we waited knowing death was coming for us. We were prepared to die there....I can still hear the bombs exploding...the shovels scraping...” He said breaking the silence.

“Well, you’re here. That’s all that matters now Tommy.” You said, realizing he’d been holding onto your hand the whole time.

As the couple of shots you’d drank ran through your bloodstream, you saw him let his guard down slightly as the night drug on. Ordering you another gin so you wouldn’t have to deal with the whiskey as much.

“So you like gin aye?” He asked.

“Yeah, why?” You asked grinning as you took a sip of the cold, clear liquid.

“I make gin.” He said, lighting a cigarette once again.

“Oh really? I’ll have to try it sometime.” You said, your vision going slightly fuzzy as you grew more tipsy.

“How about tonight?” He asked. You pursed your lips in thought before answering.

“Alright, I’m never one to shy away from new things. Is it here?” You asked, glancing at the bar.

“No. Stored away at the warehouse, we ship some of it out but I’ve got over a hundred and thirty bottles stashed away.” He said.

“Who are you saving all of it for?” You asked.

Tommy thought for a moment, the images of Grace slipping away for once as he stared at the woman in front of him.

“For the right person I suppose.” He said.

Your cheeks heated up at the thought, causing you to look away.

Tommy continued to stare, taking in every part of you, knowing all the women he’d loved in the past usually came with a time limit. It had only been a matter of days, but he knew in his bones he felt some way towards you, no one had felt this special to him since Grace. And as much as it excited him, it also terrified him.

“Would you like to go?” He asked.

“I’d love to.” You said, clinking your glass with his as you both finished off your drinks before heading off.

The sky was as dark as ever, the moonlight guiding your path as Tommy drove towards the warehouse. The air was chilled and you could see your breath when talking.

As he parked, he ran round to help you out, holding you steady as your heels sunk more into the dirt. The rain subsided luckily, making the trek over to the heavy wooden doors somewhat bearable.

“It’s back here.” He said, prying open a crate of clear bottles, the Shelby Co. Ltd. label catching your eye, along with the description.

“Distilled for the eradication of seemingly incurable sadness.” You said, reading it aloud.

“When my wife died...I started this partly for business...and partly for myself to take my mind off everything.” He said.

You nodded and sat on an old crate and watched him open the bottle and pour you both a glass.

“To the eradication of sadness, aye?” He asked raising his glass to yours.

“To the eradication of sadness.” You said smiling before taking a drink. It was slightly sweeter than the one at the Garrison, but it went down smoothly to your surprise.

Tommy looked down into his glass, getting lost in thought as the rain started up again. The heavy drops pounding on the roof of the warehouse as you sat there in drunken silence.

You had both nearly finished the bottle when the thunder grew louder over the wooden structure, your eyes lazily looking through one of the windows as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Do you want to do something fun?” You asked, lifting your head off his shoulder and looking up into his eyes. They drew you in no matter how many times you tried looking away.

“What do you have in mind?” He said, raising his brow with a slight grin.

“Do you like to dance?” You asked, knowing you were fully drunk at this point.

He looked at you as if he was searching for himself in your eyes, searching for some portion of him that he could still grasp onto amidst all the noise.

“I suppose.” Was all he said, not wanting to deal with absolutes. A yes would mean he’d have to be amazing at remembering the moves and dig past all the muck to find his old self, who’d smile and dance and ride horses all the time. A no would make the beautiful woman before him frown from disappointment. So he reluctantly got up and took her hand as she led the way, giggling slightly as she staggered slightly through the dirt covered floors.

“We’re dancing in the rain.” You said, grinning mischievously and leading him out the door.

“Fuck these shoes.” You said, taking them off so you wouldn’t sink your heels into the mud. You sat them by the door and Tommy watched as you took a large step onto the dark muddy ground looking up at the huge raindrops coming down. 

“Are you mad?” He asked walking to you and putting his arms around your waist.

“I’m just living in the moment Tommy. Try it.” You said, swaying a bit as you put one of your hands in his.

He smiled and shook his head, the moonlight illuminating his features as he spoke.

“We’re going to get sick you know.” He said looking down at you, admiring how the rain made your hair shine and your skin glisten as the drops fell around you.

“Well...it’s a good thing I’m a doctor then huh?” You said smirking as you locked eyes with him. Yours trailing to his lips and his doing the same to yours.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment as you kissed, all the worries either of you had vanishing for a moment as the rain danced around you.

“Have you thought about expanding your practice?” He asked, breaking the kiss.

“Yes......why?” You asked, bringing your arms up around his shoulders as his rested on your waist.

“I figured it could be good for you, you could get out of Birmingham for a while. Have a new range of patients.” He said.

“Tommy....I can’t just up and leave, I have a life there you know.” You said, looking up at him. His eyes were set on yours, almost pleading.

“I’ll think about it, alright? But if I do decide to move out here...where will I go? Who will I help?” You asked, knowing there were only a couple of doctors in Small Heath, all old and withering away with age. And the apartments around here weren’t exactly aging any better.

“I have plan for that...if you’d let me help you. I have a couple of people in the family that you could help, only when needed of course.” He said.

“Are you wanting to hire me as the Shelby family doctor then?” You asked, smirking as he looked up at the rain.

“It would be nice not having to go to the hospitals all the time. Raises too much suspicion.” He said.

“Will I get to see that sweet boy of yours? I can’t drop my children’s practice entirely you know.” You said, the nerves bundling up in your stomach as you thought about a possible future here.

“Of course. Like I said, I have a plan.” He said smiling down at you.

You raised your hand up cupping his cheek lightly, the rain just missing his face thanks to his peaked cap.

“You and your plans Tommy...At least tell me what it is, for business purposes...” You said before he pressed his lips to yours again.

“I’ll tell you, but only after a few more dates.” He said giving you a half smile that melted your heart.

“Deal.” You said, taking his hand in yours as you walked back toward the warehouse.

The sudden movements made your skin crawl as the cold wind blew through.

“You cold?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You said, drawing your damp coat tightly around you.

Unlike you, he was used to the cold, having slept in muddy tunnels and trenches for nights on end, so he swiftly took his coat off and draped it around your shoulders, the scent of cologne and cigarette smoke radiating from the fabric.

“Now how about we go home aye?” He asked.

“Home?” You asked, sobering up as the night drug on.

“I’m not letting a lady drive herself through town this late, you can stay at mine.” He said, walking to his car and helping you in.

“Alright, but listen. I’m tired and I’d just like to sleep. No funny business.” You said holding up a finger at him.

“Why not?” He asked jokingly.

“I don’t fuck on first dates.” You said bluntly, cringing internally at the one time you did.

“Alright then.” He said, looking at you as he lit a cigarette. He smirked a bit before turning the engine on, respecting your decision but also intrigued that you were more hard to get than some other women he’s encountered in the past.

The drive was a bit long, making you want to fall asleep right there in the car, but the sounds of the gate to his grand driveway opening and closing kept you up. You lazily put your heels on before walking in the large house, the clicking of them echoing throughout the long halls.

“I assume you remember where the rooms are. My room is to the left of Charlie’s, I’m going to check on him but you can make yourself at home. There’s extra clothes in the dresser.” He said going up the stairs as you looked around. Your heart raced at the thought of sleeping beside him, the portrait of his late wife seemingly judging you as you walked up the stairs and into the bedroom.

While there, you hurriedly washed your already smudged makeup off and put one of his shirts on, letting it skim across your thighs as you walked back into the room.

Pulling the covers back on the huge queen bed, you heard Tommy talking sweetly to Charlie before hearing him shut the door. You had just made yourself comfortable when he’d walked in, a small smile plastered across his face that you’d seen so many times with parents.

“Was he asleep when you walked in?” You asked breaking the silence as he quickly changed clothes, causing you to sneak a glance at him before he climbed into the bed with you. It was a foreign feeling, sharing a bed with someone other than yourself, but you took in the moment, not knowing just how many you’d spend like this.

“He was until I walked in...had to tell him stories and play with his horse toy until he fell back to sleep.” He said, pulling you closer to him.

“Awe...I’m sure he was happy to see you though.” You said yawning lightly.

“Lets get to bed, don’t want you passing out on me tomorrow.” He said smirking down at you.

“Goodnight Tommy.” You said quietly.

“Goodnight.” He said, staring at the ceiling like he did so many nights, hoping that this time he’d be able to sleep somewhat peacefully.

The next morning, the birds chirped wildly outside as you and Tommy got up. The light from the windows blinding you both as hangovers clouded both your heads.

Tommy let out a cough and you managed a sneeze, as both of you felt like it was more than just hangover as the minutes passed, both of your heads feeling stuffed and your skin feeling a bit warmer than usual.

Tommy gave you a annoyed look as he sat up in bed, regretting his life decisions in that moment.

“What? Don’t look at me like that...” You said, getting up from the bed.

“I told you we’d get sick, you just had to live in the moment...” He said, mocking your words and watching you as you made your way to the bathroom. He watched as his shirt rode up your exposed legs as you leaned over the sink, splashing your face with cool water to help with your fever a bit.

“You could’ve stopped me you know...” You said dryer your face and then sitting next to him, checking his temperature with the back of your hand.

“Will this be going in your patient records?” He asked as you handed him a cold rag to put over his neck.

You smiled weakly as you spoke, clearly more sick from your actions than he was.

“No...we’re going to keep this one off the record...alright?” You said.

“Alright.” He said, getting up and slowly walking to his study downstairs. You got dressed in your now-dry dress and walked down the stairs to see the nanny with Charlie in the other room. You waved to him as he smiled, his appearance looking better than the last time you’d seen him.

“Hello Arthur. I won’t be in today, I’m a bit under the weather...yeah...it’s a long story. Aye don’t let the power get to your head alright brother? I’ll be back tomorrow.” You heard him say, causing you to chuckle as he walked out of his office.

You looked at his tired eyes and red nose, knowing you weren’t going to your home just yet.

Sighing and running a hand along your cold arms, you turned to him and checked is temperature again just in case.

“What?” He asked as you smirked to yourself.

“I guess today will just have to be like another house call...” You said, kissing his cheek before heading towards the bedroom again, knowing you’ll both be spending more time in there than originally planned.

Thomas Shelby Tag List:

(If you’d like to be added/removed just send me an ask/message!) :)

@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @wowjeena, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @psychkunox, @peakyxtommy, @captivatedbycillianmurphy,@dreamwastakenx, @lovemissyhoneybee, @thomashelbyswhore

[noctuaas]

AS YOU WISH; t. kuroo

synopsis; in this tale of romance, revenge, and treason, you, a beautiful commoner, are set to become the princess of aobajousai. will your one true love be able to save you in time?

pairing; kuroo tetsurou x reader

content; princess bride au (heavily based on both the movie and novel), medieval au, torture, mild violence, drama, fantasy/adventure, murder, fem!reader

fic navigation

01 ; THE BRIDE

TO BE THE MOST beautiful girl in the world was a concept far past your concern. Those around you certainly saw the potential, but at 16 years old, you simply could not care less to capitalize on your natural beauty. (Beauty routines were exhausting in your eyes. You only washed your face so as not to feel filthy, taking a razor to your leg hair was far more trouble than it seemed worth, and you were quite sick of brushing your hair, so you did so as little as possible.) All you really wanted to do was ride your horse and pester the farm boy that worked for your parents.

Prince, as you had taken to calling the horse when he was just a yearling, was a loyal companion. Other girls your age grew attached to one of their herding dogs’ pups, or the kitten of a barn cat, but you had Prince. He always came when you called, steered where you told him even on a loose rein, nuzzled your face on bad days. 

For all the time you spent taunting and bossing the farm boy around—“Farm Boy, fetch me this,” and “Farm Boy, take care of that,”—he always had one thing in common with the horse: he always did as he was told.

(Perhaps you knew that he was really a young man now—he was a year or two older than you—but he had been just an orphaned boy when he first came to work for your father, so that was what you referred to him as: Farm Boy.)

“As you wish,” he always replied, without fail.

Your father was fond of the farm boy, often remarking how he should leave him an acre of land in his will for all his hard work. These conversations never lasted long though, not before your parents would turn to you and chide you for needing to go bathe again and clean yourself up after spending the day in the barn.

Despite your disdain for taking care of yourself like a “proper lady,” as your mother liked to say, your natural beauty was still enough to cause the village boys to flock to you. Those dimwits always liked to badger you with stupid questions whenever you rode into town, offering silly favors and making awkward small talk, much to dismay of the rest of the girls in the village. The boys were always so annoying, and you often noted how much more tolerable Farm Boy was as you dismissed their advances. Eventually they took to making fun of you, laughing over snide remarks about you because they must have been embarrassed about being shot down. Sometimes the insults were too much to ignore, and when that was the case, Farm Boy took matters into his own hands. You always thanked him after he sent a village boy home bloodied and crying, and he always answered, “As you wish.”

You came to realize that Farm Boy was the only boy your age whose presence you seemed to enjoy. One night, you lied awake with the dim light from a full moon crawling through your window, thinking about how he was always kind and respectful to you, how he protected you and your honor, how he seemed to smile at you differently than he ever smiled at the other girls in town. (You also let yourself admit that he was quite handsome, with his amber eyes and ebony hair that was always in a perfect bedhead state, which was something you had never bothered caring about before.)

After that, your time was no longer divided between riding your horse and pestering the farm boy; now, ‘pestering’ was to be replaced with ‘falling for’. You let him join you on rides through the woods on Prince; you began doing your morning reading in the barn to keep him company while he fed the animals; you took it upon yourself to take out any extra supper your mother cooked to him. You even decided to stop calling him ‘Farm Boy’.

“What’s your actual name, Farm Boy?” you asked out of the blue.

“Why do you ask?” he had replied, and you snorted in mild amusement.

“Well, after having known you all these years, it must be quite rude of me to still call you ‘Farm Boy’.”

He paused and grinned that endearing grin of his, “Just call me Kuroo, then.”

Everything was so blissful for the year following. You loved Kuroo, and he loved you. Even on the day the royal Count and Countess of Aobajousai had strangely paid your family a visit, you both were sure of this; because while the Countess took Kuroo’s arm gently for him to show her the dairy cows and the Count watched you intently as you followed the small procession on your horse, you and Kuroo both stared at each other.

At the end of one year though, Kuroo unexpectedly showed up at your window in the middle of the night.

“I’ve come to say goodbye.”

You shot up straight in your bed, cocking your head incredulously, “What do you mean, ‘goodbye’?”

“I mean I’m leaving.”

“Leaving? Have I done—”

“I’m taking to the sea to seek my fortune,” he cut you off. “There’s a ship that sails out of Karasuno, to the new country of Inarizaki. There’s great opportunity there, so I’m going.”

You were shell-shocked for a moment. Leaving? Sailing to Inarizaki? Where was this all coming from?

“But why? What about the farm? What about us?” You finally said. Your voice was already beginning to quiver pathetically as tears brimmed in your eyes.

“I’ve been training at night, so I hardly need sleep or food, and I’ll get two 10-hour-a-day jobs. I’m gonna save every penny, and in just a couple years I’ll have enough to buy a big farm and build a brand new house just for the two of us.”

“For the two of us?” Your brows furrowed and your voice was meek.

“Yes, (y/n). I love you. All these years I’ve stayed here because of you. I’ve taught myself foreign languages, made my body strong, everything, for you. I’ve been head over heels for you since I was a kid. Do you understand what I’m saying, or should I keep going?”

(By now, Kuroo had squeezed his broad frame through your window, somehow landing gracefully on the floor and sliding next to you on your bed so he could wipe away your tears with his thumb. It was a good thing he was athletic enough to do so quietly, because if your parents caught him in your room, all hell might break loose.)

“Never stop,” you mumbled dreamily.

“There hasn’t been a day—”

“You better not be teasing me, Kuroo, or I’ll have your hide,” you broke in this time. Kuroo loved to tease you, and it was normally all in good fun, but if that was the case now, then he was taking it way too far.

“I’d never joke about loving you,” he replied. “Remember all those years when you would tell me, ‘Farm Boy, do this, Farm Boy, do that’? What did I always say?”

“‘As you wish’.”

“Well, that’s just what you thought I was saying. I was actually saying ‘I love you’,” Kuroo smiled gently and ran his fingers through your hair.

All that time? You couldn’t even recall the first time Kuroo started saying ‘As you wish’ to all your commands, but apparently he had been in love with you. Before you had ever even noticed him, he was devoted to you. It sounded like a fairy tale.

“I love you too, Kuroo. I’ll never stop loving you, I swear,” you finally said.

“I’ll hold you to it, princess. I have to go now if I want to make it to Karasuno in time, but I’ll send for you soon. Promise.”

You nodded in understanding, but you couldn’t let him leave without one last kiss.

There had been five great kisses since the beginning of time. Though the precise rating of kisses is a bit convoluted and controversial (everyone knows that the formula for a great kiss is comprised of timing, affection, intensity, and duration, but there has never been a universal agreement on each element’s weight), there was no doubt that this kiss left every other in the dust.

The following morning, all you wanted to do was lay around and mope. It was perfectly justifiable, considering the love of your life had just left the country, and you wouldn’t see him for God knows how long. You wallowed in self pity for about an hour before realizing that Kuroo was out in the great big world now, and with as handsome as he was, he would surely have women throwing themselves at him.

What if all this moping destroys my beauty, and when he sends for me, I’ll arrive in Inarizaki, and he’ll take one look at me and send me back?

“Mother,” you ran downstairs, interrupting whatever petty argument your parents were having. “I need your advice. How can I better take care of my appearance?”

“You’ve never cared about your appearance, honey. Why are you asking this all of a sudden?”

“Well, I’m nearly 18 now. I figure it’s about time I start behaving a little more like a lady,” you lied. It was enough to appease your mother, and she grabbed your arm and began dragging you to the washroom in delight.

You quickly learned that taking such care of yourself was hard work; the saying, ‘beauty is pain,’ made an awful lot of sense now. But for Kuroo, nothing was too much. Every morning, you awoke at dawn to start the farm chores. You had to pick up all the slack left by Kuroo, so there wasn’t really any time for self-improvement until the afternoon, but once you started, you took it very seriously. Daily baths, simple exercises, and all the time it took to brush your hair out perfectly before bed.

If the whole town thought you were beautiful before, now they all knew you must be a contender for the most beautiful girl in the world. You, however, still had no care for how beautiful the rest of the world found you; as long as Kuroo found you beautiful. (In the coming years, you would learn that you were beautiful no matter what, and simplify your beauty routine to what you liked. As long as you felt clean and tidy, that was sufficient.)

Kuroo wrote you letters every few months, and you kept every one of them. Sometimes people would ask you how he was doing, which was a mistake unless they had a lot of spare time, because you could talk about him for hours. It was obvious that you were completely and utterly in love, and so the village boys eventually stopped trying, and the village girls warmed back up to you.

It made sense the way Kuroo’s death hit you the way it did.

The news reached your parents first. The Count (a new fellow named Iwaizumi, appointed by Prince Oikawa shortly after the last one’s death) was sent to your farm to deliver the news since it was Kuroo’s last known place of residence. You were returning from town on your horse when Count Iwaizumi was leaving your property.

“Miss,” he nodded politely as you crossed paths. You rode on in confusion, and the new Count watched you intently, much like the last one.

When you made it into the house, both your parents hushed up and looked at you with pity.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s The Crow’s Wing, darling. It was attacked,” your mother told you.

Kuroo’s ship was attacked? You furrowed your brows, “What?”

“Pirates. In the night,” your father explained.

You knew the trip across the sea would be dangerous, but you never thought it would happen to him. Sliding into a chair, you decided it might be best to sit down.

The room was quiet until you managed to squeak out, “So Kuroo’s been taken prisoner, then?”

A long sigh from your parents, and then, a, “No.”

“It was the Dread Pirate Nekomata.”

You blinked, willing back tears. The Dread Pirate Nekomata was the most famous pirate in all the world, and he never took prisoners. In all these years in his reign of terror, no one survived an attack from the Dread Pirate Nekomata.

You went to your room, and this time around, you allowed yourself to mope. For six days, you sulked, and cried, and mourned. Not once did you come out of your room, so your parents took to leaving food outside your door, which you only ever picked at meekly. During those six days in your room, you decided you would never love again.

[spencer-reid-in-a-pool]

It Was You All Along (Part 6)

Author’s note: I want to thank @ayyyyitswednesdaymydoods for helping me and listening to me ramble constantly about this series. I know I am probably annoying, but she inspired much of this fic just through our conversations and I am so thankful every day that I met her and that she is my friend. This chapter is Jaskier’s POV, so hopefully you will learn more about that night that (Y/N) eavesdropped! Enjoy~

Tags: @ayyyyitswednesdaymydoods @blackjay04 @mxsmwndr @bravelittlesunflower

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

If the gods could have blessed me with some other talent besides music, it should have been the ability to figure out where the hell I was in this forsaken forest. I wish I knew how to map out these routes in my head like Geralt seems to do, but I simply can’t. I guess you could say it was my own fault for running off after the attack, but I couldn’t risk getting punched again. Gods know that I am the one bringing in the most money, what with my music and all. Witchering be damned. 

I mean, what can I say? I’m irresistible. 

The trees in front of me seemed to stretch out infinitely, and I sighed as I came to a stop. I knew Geralt would be alright, of course. My thoughts were mainly focused on (Y/N) and where she might have ended up. I couldn’t help but think us getting separated was my fault. But I only did what I thought was right in the moment, and that was getting her as far away from the danger as possible.

She has been acting a bit strange lately, and that consumed my thoughts going forward. Was it... girl problems? Those happen monthly, right? Wait- what month is it?

A snapping sound drew me from my thoughts and brought me to another abrupt stop. It sounded far away, so I decided not being around to find out what made the noise was the best course of action. 

~

It was starting to drop dark now, and I had found a fallen log to sit on and rest. It was so quiet. I hated the quiet. My thoughts and fears were always loudest then, so I decided to pull out my lute and strum mindlessly to bring about some comfort. Without meaning to, I started playing the song I was writing for (Y/N). It just kind of happened. I thought she was onto me and knew about the song when we arrived at that town the other day, but luckily she didn’t seem to pay any mind to it. If only she didn’t make me so nervous and loose-lipped, maybe she wouldn’t have even realized the song was new and unfinished. 

My heart sped up the tiniest bit as I played, just like it always did when I thought about her. Which was quite often, to be honest. I simply couldn’t help it. She was my muse, even if she didn’t know. 

Of course, thinking about her made me think about the other night in the tavern with the other woman. A stab of guilt made my chest hurt, and I cursed myself for that night. (Y/N) didn’t seem to be catching on to anything I was doing, so I had wanted so badly to be distracted. How stupid was I to let that woman be my distraction? Incredibly. And I would regret it for the rest of my days.

Obviously, thinking about that night and that woman made me think of the conversation Geralt and I had after. I remembered the whole thing, surprisingly, considering how drunk I was. I think- no, I know- the cause of me remembering was how much I was thinking about (Y/N) then. How badly I had wanted that woman to be her, in my arms and safe and loved. 

I told Geralt everything. But I’m sure he already knew with his Witchery-ness...I swear he could read minds sometimes. 

I went to the woman’s room- I don’t even know her name, now that I think about it. I don’t think I asked. It didn’t really matter, because it wasn’t (Y/N). Instantly, I had regretted my actions. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want this woman on me, touching me. So as soon as I had come back to reality, I pushed her off, probably a bit too hard, and winced as I realized how purple my neck would be soon.  

Of course she was hurt, and I felt awful. But a second later, she smiled at me with what looked like understanding on her face. 

“It’s that girl down there, isn’t it? You’re thinking about her.”

I didn’t answer her, and she took my silence as a yes. And that was that. I spent the rest of the night getting drunk to try and drown away this feeling I had. It didn’t work, of course. I suppose karma was being her usual bitchy self. Although, I knew in my heart that I deserved it. 

As I strummed her song over and over, I replayed the conversation Geralt and I had that night in my head. 

~

“You couldn’t have been any quieter when coming in?”

I pulled out a chair and sat in it heavily, the drink and regret weighing me down. 

“Shut up, Geralt,” I groaned. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

I was silent for a moment, and decided to just come out with it. 

“You wouldn’t understand. I- I so desperately want (Y/N)...What do I do?”

If he expected something else from me, he made no mention of it. He simply stared at me with that same stupid expression he always had.

“You want advice? You need to grow a pair, Jaskier, and stop whining. Watching you be like this is incredibly exhausting.”

I sighed once more, like I had so many times previously tonight.

“That woman...seeing her was a bad idea. (Y/N) can’t know how I feel. At least, not yet. I don’t want her to know.”

He glanced at the wall for a split second, but I thought nothing of it. He was probably just tired of listening to me talk. 

“You truly are an idiot. Both of you are.”

And without another word, he left for the washroom. 

~

I played until it was pitch black outside, and even after for a little bit. I didn’t need light to see where the strings for her song were. I knew them by heart, even if it wasn’t quite finished yet. Only when my fingers started to ache did I stop, and I didn’t really want to. Playing her song made it feel as if she was right next to me. 

I sighed and placed my lute down gently before laying myself down next to it. There probably wasn’t a really comfortable spot around here, so I balled up my doublet and used it as a makeshift pillow. Before long, I fell asleep and dreamed of (Y/N) all night, as I so often had since meeting her for the first time. 

When I woke in the morning, it was just after dusk, and a bit cold out. I put my doublet back on quickly and grabbed my lute, ignoring the ache in my back and the growl coming from my stomach. There wasn’t really much else to do besides start walking and hope for the best. 

Eventually, I made it to a small, run-down cottage near a stream. It was as good a place as any to rest and catch my breath. There didn’t seem to be anyone home, but I knocked nonetheless. What can I say? I’m a gentleman. 

No one answered, so I let myself in. But what I didn’t realize was that the door was on its last limb, so as soon as I opened it, it collapsed onto the floor, sending up a cloud of dust and dirt directly into my lungs. 

“Melitele’s tits,” I croaked. 

After I recovered from my little ordeal, I dug around the place to see what it had to offer. Was it too much to hope for food?

I came across a plant potted in the corner. Underneath the cobwebs and dust, it almost looked edible. Almost. 

“Should I?” I thought out loud. 

I stared at it for a good while, heavily considering eating it, before realizing it was probably not a good idea.

“I should not.”

Defeated, I sat down on one of the rickety chairs, thanking the gods that it didn’t fall out from underneath me. Maybe I’ll eat my own arm off. Wait, then I can’t play the lute anymore...

“Bollocks...”

~

I hadn’t realized that I had fallen asleep in the chair until I heard rustling and voices outside, which startled me awake. It looked to be later in the day, probably the afternoon. So I couldn’t really take off running- they would definitely see me. 

The voices and footsteps got closer and closer. In a panic, I scanned the room looking for something- anything I could use to defend myself if need be. There really wasn’t much. The place has probably been ransacked more times than I can count. 

Unfortunately, all I had was my lute. How horribly tragic. 

I hunkered down in the corner farthest away from the door, and waited until they were right against the house before shouting, “I’ve got a very large- very hard sword! And I’m not afraid to use it. You had best leave- right now. Please.”

Idiot, why did you say please at the end? You sounded like an insufferable p-

“Jaskier!” 

I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t my name. And it definitely wasn’t (Y/N) stepping over the fallen door. 

Time felt frozen for a second. A bit annoying really, considering how all I wanted to do was run to her and hug her. But she made it to me first, and before she threw her arms around me, I looked at her like it was the first time. 

She was disheveled of course. Scratches and bruises decorating her skin. A particularly large bruise was right in the middle of her forehead. Wonder what caused that monstrosity. 

Twigs and leaves and grass were twisted into her messy hair, and for a split second all I could think about doing was getting it all out for her and washing her hair. She’d like that, I think. 

Even in her condition, I had never seen such a beautiful woman. And I realized that even looking at another for the rest of my days would simply be a sin. 

Her arms finally fell around my neck, bringing me closer to her and back to the present. I took a deep breath, telling myself that this was actually real. She was actually here and she was okay, and I wrapped my arms tightly around her waist. I simply could not have her close enough to me. 

I sighed her name, relaxing against her, and hoping against hope she couldn’t feel how hard my heart was beating right now. 

Geralt stood in the doorway, his arms crossed. But there was a gleam in his eye. 

“Shut up,” I mouthed silently to him, turning slightly with (Y/N) still in my arms as if I was hiding a sweet I refused to share. 

He simply shook his head, and stepped back through the doorway from where they came.

~

Geralt and I sat around the fire now. (Y/N) was asleep a few feet away, curled up on a ratty old blanket laid out on the forest floor. I couldn’t help but watch her sleep. She was so peaceful. So beautiful. There wasn’t a single thing I would not do for her.

I had spent the better part of an hour picking out all the offensive bits of nature in her hair, and combed it out as best as I could. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, darling,” I had said to her after finishing with her hair, “But what in the gods’  holy names happened to your forehead?”

Her expression fell instantly, and she grumbled something under her breath. I leaned in closer to hear what she had said, ignoring the weird expression on Geralt’s face. 

“I ran into a branch while I was escaping on Lily.”

If she hadn’t had such a pitiful look on her face, I would have lost my shit then and there, laughing until I felt sick. But I managed to stifle it, if only to laugh about it later. 

“What a special girl you are,” I said instead. 

She turned away from me for a moment before telling me to shut up. 

Geralt’s words startled me from my recounting of the events in my head. 

“If you don’t tell her, I will. You’re ridiculous.” 

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, and quickly turned away from (Y/N)’s sleeping form. 

“I’ll tell her. Just...not yet. When the time is right. She deserves to know, even if she doesn’t feel the same.” 

His only response was a sigh. Then he laid down on the other side of the fire, facing away from me. 

That was fine. I’ll be up a while, and I preferred it that way right now. Perhaps I’ll finish her song...

[toe-ruoikawa]

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summer loving- an oikawa x reader smau/classic fanfic ABANDONNED

3. The Diner

(y/n) runs - or, well, bikes - to the miyagi prefecture during summer break to escape her stifling family. while she's out in miyagi, she meets a cute boy named oikawa tooru.

taglist

@theshirleygamer @mikkasquare @krxstynnn @90s-belladonna @ayaeushi @dearkozume @heavenini @thats-kinda-sketchy @pyblos @yacoka (ur bio said u moved lol) @pnkcts @yikes-buddy @ochabby @michelepiekenma @namyari @pleasemelafook-outta-ere @neonghxst @lustingfor5sos @sayoomi @birdiewolf @sorrythatspussynal​ 

yeah, you loved suga's mom probably more than your own, but without suga there to actually create a bridge between the two of you, your conversations were dull and awkward, and you had left the house as soon as you thought she wouldn't mind.

for a few hours you had gone around the town, taking pictures of whatever seemed pretty to you. you had taken at least 50 by the time afternoon rolled around. that's kind of your thing; photos.

your camera roll was full of gorgeous landscapes-rolling hills and swaying trees, gigantic buildings and fluffy clouds, delicate flowers and creeping vines. it was a shame that you had lost some of your best shots when you had gotten rid of your old phone, but at least now you have a clean slate to fill all over again.

you're just finishing up a mini shoot of some train tracks when it hits you.

the single most delicious smell in the entire world hits your nose, and you almost black out it's so wonderful. it smells like frying oil and ice cream, and you almost cackle in glee because you had brought money for food and you just found the best place to spend it.

following your nose like a bloodhound, you start to walk past all the cute little buildings that had served as background for your railroad pictures. the smell keeps getting stronger, mixing and dividing into similar, more specific scents, like french fries and fried chicken. you feel your artist heart squeal with excitement as you round the corner on the block and find yourself in front of a cute American-themed diner.

the name of the restaurant is written over the door in fluorescent green lights, and there are similar signs hung in the windows of the diner. as the sky gradually darkens, you can tell that this is your photographer paradise. the booths in the diner are bustling with people who you swear are all smiling, and there's a bar where a few loners and couples sip at their extra thick milkshakes, with the overflow cup on the side. you haven't even set foot in the building and you could bet away your life's savings that the floors are checker tiled.

"ah," you don't even realize you've gone into the diner until the bell at the door jingles above your head, and you just gaze at it in dreamy shock. your feet are pulled to a red leather stool at the counter where you sit and swivel around a few times.

"what can i get to get you started?"

you swear you almost die when you see the outfit the waitress is wearing. the entire retro vibe of the restaurant has your artist heart weeping tears of bliss and the uniforms are just icing on the cake.

you order your favourite flavour of milkshake and a side of fries and then glance at your phone to see what you've missed from suga.

you don't really ever understand most of his vague volleyball tweets. from what you can gather, the team is a bunch of hooligan children that suga babysits, with the help of daichi, who you only know through suga's texts.

seeing as you don't even want to know what watermelon and hills have to do with volleyball camp, your thoughts drift to your other best friend, aki. you had blocked her with your new twitter account so there would be no chance of her stumbling across it, but you couldn't help but feel a wave of guilt as you look at her account. she's probably the closest thing you have to a sister, which is why you had to leave her behind, too.

sisters are lovely but they're also snitches.

you put your phone face down as the waitress from earlier reappears, setting down a plastic basket full of fries and a milkshake, as well as a large metal cup filled with refill milkshake. ah, the glory of retro american diners. you're about to dig in when the bell rings and you hear laughter from someone your age.

the idea that it could be someone that recognizes you jumps into your head and you spin around in your swivel stool so quickly that you almost launch yourself off of it. in your commotion your eyes lock onto the warmest brown eyes you’ve seen in your entire life and you swear time slows.

they belong to a cute brunette, who has come to the diner with a group of friends. he is quick to look away, playing it off like he had been glancing around the restaurant. he waves to the waitress, who smiles bashfully, and follows his friends to a booth table that you know by the way they are drawn to it is undeniable their booth.

the boy with the warm eyes does another sweep over the diner as his group settles down, and as the chocolate irises linger on you, you realize that you’ve been staring at him the whole time.

flustered and feeling heat rise to your face, you jerk yourself back around in the seat so you’re facing your meal and take a long sip of your milkshake. ignoring the sting in your skull from the sudden cold, you flip your phone around and quickly open your texts. 

taking a deep breath and steeling yourself for the embarrassment you’re about to undergo willingly, you turn around in your swivel stool.

much to your bewilderment, the boy is already staring at you.

he waves at you and you freeze for a moment, taking in his dark hair and his huge, intelligent brown eyes that are gazing right back into yours, and then you offer him a small smile and meek wave of your own hand. the lazy smile that had stretched across his face brightens in return.

instead of earlier when he had entered the diner, now the boy seems content to keep eye contact with you, and, with each quickened beat of your heart, you feel yourself becoming more and more comfortable with his gaze in yours. 

you almost start to daydream when one of his buddies elbows him, clearly jiving him by the way the other boys are laughing. he turns his attention to them exclaiming something you don’t hear that makes the booth burst out into raucous teenage guffaws.

coming to your senses, you’re certain your face must match the shade of red on the ketchup bottle that you clumsily dump on your fries. you shoot suga a few more texts, stuffing a handful of fries in your mouth to keep yourself from squealing.

the mere idea that this beautiful and pretty boy might even consider to be interested in you has your heart melting in purpley yellow puddles of pure simp essence and your brain turning into honey. you find yourself slurping down the rest of your milkshake in an attempt to beat back the steady blush that burns on the apples of your cheeks and the tips of your ears.

sadly, whenever you turn to look back at the booth the boys are eating in, he never has his attention turned on you. you know there’s a chance that you’re just not catching him at the right moments, but as his laughter continues fills the space throughout the evening, your certainty that your shared gaze was a one time occurrence grows. 

eventually, disheartened and a tad embarrassed, you give up on trying to catch the boy’s attention again. you pay for your meal before going to the washroom.

when you return, the group had left. disappointed in yourself, you’re trudging over to the door when you notice a turquoise and white jacket laying in the seat of the booth.

“excuse me, but the group that was sitting here earlier just left, right?” you call out to the waitress that had served both you and the group.

“huh?” the waitress looks up from the table she’s wiping down. “oh, yeah. they’re gone. did matsukawa leave his jacket again?”

“yeah, i guess,” you shrug. an idea pops into your romance driven brain, and for once you don’t wave it away immediately. “if you don’t mind, i could run it out to him. i’m leaving anyways.”

“that’d be a big help, sweetie, thank you!” the waitress graciously accepts your offer and then turns back to the table she’s cleaning.

you’re exiting the diner with a ring of the bell overhead, turquoise and white track jacket in hand with the words ‘aoba johsai’ printed on the back, when you stumble into a wall of warm fabric.

“woah there!” the voice you’ve been tuned to for the past hour replies, and the cute boy’s grabbing your shoulders gently to steady you. you gaze up into the calf’s eyes that you had been so fixated earlier, and they focus back on you for a brief moment, before trailing to the jacket in your arms. “oh, look! you’ve got mattsun’s jacket.”

“oh, yeah, here,” you hand the boy the jacket, only now realizing how much he towers over you in such close proximity. despite how that thought makes your heart race, you jump at the chance to get to know the boy a bit more. “so you’re not matsukawa, then?”

he laughs, not unpolitely, throwing his head back the slightest bit. “no, i’m oikawa tooru.” he fixes you with a sunny smile, like you’ve surprised him in the best way possible, and it’s like you’ve never realized how gorgeous a smile could be.

“(l/n), (y/n),” you grin back. “so oikawa-san, what’re doing here coming back for a jacket that’s not even yours?” on the inside, you’re practically screaming; when did you become so bold?

“well,” his grin turns sheepish. “i meant to ask you for your number earlier but iwa-chan kept breaking my train of thought, so i figured i could try again now.”

“oh, thank god you’re asking,” you let a sigh of relief as you pull out your phone. “i wanted to ask you earlier, too, but i chickened out.”

the two of you exchange phones and enter your numbers in a new contact, while oikawa makes a little joke about your default wallpaper, which you laugh a little too hard at.

“let’s go out sometime this week!” oikawa says as his words of parting, and you hum in agreement, waving goodbye.

once you’re far away enough from oikawa, you check your phone as if making sure the contact is real. you giggle once you realize what he’s put as his name. maybe this summer won't be so bad after all.

[pedros-mustache-main]

when your love reaches me (i)

summary: 1978 is decidedly not 2020. nor is your life ever the same when you meet a guitarist, curly haired, soft spoken, and true.

word count: 9.3k+ (i am abundantly sorry for how long this is. curl up with a snack, my dudes)

warnings: required: total suspension of disbelief. also: screwed up historical timeline, slight angst, language, innuendo, suggestive moments and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smut (not 18+ but be mindful)

a/n: hi! a day late, but i wanted to respect the ‘out of time’ epilogue which came out yesterday as this is very much inspired by @perriwiinkle​ and her lovely fic. this is my take on a similar theme, only with brian and just three (3) parts. thank you to @deacyblues​ for your beta-ing help on this mini-series; i heart emoji you. anyways, let me know what you think. enjoy! xoxo!

in this chapter: something—be it fate or otherwise—transplants you to a place you do not belong.

it’s raining hard, thunder and lightning battling for dominance in the gray sky. you clutch your textbook to your chest and duck your head against the onslaught, feet nearly slipping on the flat stones of the sidewalk. london weather has always been unpredictable, but you’ve never seen a storm like this, never been caught in one either. it’s too far to make it back to your flat without catching pneumonia and the library feels just as far away so you push forward. the sky turns bright white followed closely by a boom of thunder, and you squeak, picking up your pace. 

across a muddy patch of grass stands union concert hall. it’s likely to be locked on a saturday evening, but it’s worth a shot. you squelch through the mud and run the remaining hundred yards to old brick building. your hands, wet with rain, scrabble against the brass doorknob, which, to your surprise, turns with ease. muttering a prayer of thanks, you wrench the door open as a gust of wind turns the rain sideways. you slip inside, breathing heavy, and fall against the door as it shuts.

silence. blessed silence.

you heave a sigh of relief and run a hand through your drenched hair.

the concert hall is empty, but the lonesome rows of chairs and desolate stage come as no surprise. with fall break around the corner, imperal college is largely devoid of students on the weekends. there’s parties to be had, memories to be made; no one wants to be cooped up on campus. you, however, don’t have that luxury. there’s too much to be done in too tight a span of time.

as the rain pounds the roof and slides down the windows, you take a seat at the back of the hall. the plastic chair creaks underneath your weight, and each time you move a soggy squish echoes about the room. your textbook—creating exhibitions: collaborations in the planning, development, and design of innovative experiences—rests open on your lap. the laminated binding curls as it dampens, but you’re soaked to the bone. there’s no avoiding the damage. if you must, you’ll pay the thirty pounds at the end of the semester to turn your rental into a purchase.

if you think about it, it really is quite sad, the way you’re sitting on your own on a saturday night, highlighter clamped between your teeth, eyes scanning the pages of your textbook with far too much interest. if you think about it, you know you should be out with your friends. this morning rachel had tried to convince you to come out after your shift at the museum, but you’d said no—again. you’ve been given a full ride in the masters of science communication program, and you’ll do nothing to jeopardize the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. rachel insists that a simple evening at a local pub is harmless, and you know she’s right, but your answer is always the same: no. it’s easier that way.

you read for awhile, highlighting the text and annotating the margins of your textbook with the thoughts or questions that flit through your mind. as you dry, the legs of your jeans turn stiff, and your hair feels frizzy with humidity. not for the first time, you wish you’d remembered the pink umbrella leaning against the coatrack in your flat.

an hour passes, maybe two. with a heavy sigh, you shut your book and meander through the rows of chairs toward the bathroom. the washroom light flickers a muted yellow when you switch it on, an incessant electronic buzz filling the room. crossing to the counter, you stare at yourself in the mirror. you look atrocious: tired bags under your eyes, streaks of mascara on your cheeks, hair unruly, clothes sodden and weighed down on your body. you’d laugh if it wasn’t so damn depressing. you look like a madwoman, like some sort of victorian nightmare. in an effort to clean yourself up, you splash cold water on your face and scrub the makeup away until your cheeks hurt. you wet your hair, run your fingers through the tangles, and attempt to dry yourself under the hand dryer. 

it’s still raining outside. there’s a single skylight in the bathroom, and when you look up, it’s a funny sensation, watching the rain slam against the window but never hit your face. you smile faintly; there’s just something about being inside when it rains. it’s similar to a warm hug or a—

a crack of lightning breaks you from your reverie. the sound goes straight to your heart, stopping it with the force of its blow. with a gasp, you clamp your hands against your ears, eyes screwed shut, and you’re suddenly six years old again, scared of a simple thunderstorm. white light pours through the skylight, drowning the room in an almost heavenly glow. thunder trips over the heels of the lightning in an effort to make itself known. the thunder is more like a roar, and you swear you can feel the foundation of the building jostle.

then all is quiet. even the sound of the rain on the roof has stopped.

you pull your hands from your ears, breathing heavy, and look around the bathroom. maybe... maybe you should call a cab or an uber. you’d rather not be stuck in the concert hall overnight, and the storm feels eerily close. 

grabbing your bag from the counter, you fumble for your phone in its depths. you come away empty-handed, but you must have left it on your chair alongside your textbook. you pull open the bathroom door and step into a crush of bodies.

your heart stutters in your chest, confusion stealing the air from your lungs.

there’s a crowd of people in the concert hall. it’s hard to move, to breathe, to think. the room is dim, lit only by orange and white lights on the stage. there’s music pounding through the room, and it sounds vaguely familiar, but you’re too stunned and confused to place it. a haze of smoke filters over the heads of onlookers; the air smells like cigarettes and sweat. where had everyone come from? how long had you been in the bathroom? surely not long enough for a band and a crowd and—

a thought strikes you: this is not the union concert hall you were just sat in seeking shelter from a bad storm.

a hand circles your arm, and you startle, head twisting to the left. “you okay, love?” a voice asks. the man is short with warm-toned skin, his hair like a dark halo around his head. he stares at you in earnest, and you’re sure you’ve gone pale.

in lieu of answering, you stumble backwards, back into the bathroom. the subway-tiled walls of moments past have turned a dull green, and the hand dryer has been replaced with a paper-towel dispenser. the linoleum under your shoes is grimy, unwashed and stained. the air is heavy with cigarette smoke thanks to the women lounging around the open stalls, dripping ashes to the floor with a simple flick of the wrist. the scent clings to the inside of your nose, and you blame the tears pricking the corners of your eyes on the smell.

“excuse me,” you mutter, shouldering past a lithe woman with blown-out blonde hair. she gives you a once over, her brow furrowed, before leaving the bathroom.

at the sink, you brace your hands against the edge. the sink feels like cheap plastic, easy enough to rip from the wall. where the sturdy white countertop has gone, you aren’t sure. for the second time in one day, you splash water on your heated face.

“hey. are you okay?”

you look up and meet the doe eyes of a short girl standing behind you. her hair is bobbed at her neck, her eyes lined with a deep purple liner. her appearance is warped by the faded mirror, but you can see the way she’s looking at you, and you don’t blame her. you’re sure you look as crazy as you feel.

you straighten at the sink and shut the water off. “i’m just...” you flounder for a good excuse. your insides feel like mush, and your brain has paused, as if the loading symbol is looping over and over in place of producing any coherent thought. “do you have a phone i could borrow?”

“there’s a payphone around the corner,” she says, her words slow with apprehension. “did something happen out there? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

there’s a pounding in the back of your head, hard and steady, and you rub your temples. “i was studying and then i was here and i don’t really remember the rest.” you pause. “it’s been a long day.”

the girl’s face softens as she smiles. she moves to stand beside you and withdraws a thin tube of lipstick from her clutch. “i know what you mean. i can get pretty bogged down and feel like the time’s flown by and i’ve been asleep the at the wheel, but, god, it’s queen! they started here, you know, in this very concert hall. and now they’re back, just for us! how bloody exciting is that?” as she speaks, her irish accent grows stronger, in tandem with the excitement lighting her face.

you frown, unsure if you’ve heard her correctly. “queen? like... the band queen or queen elizabeth?”

she pauses in her lipstick application. “the band queen, silly. are you really that knackered?” with a grin, she puts the lipstick down and takes your shoulders in her hands. “you’re at a queen concert, love. it’s friday, september first, ninteen-seventy-eight. has been all day, ever since you woke up in your jammies.” she laughs, her blunt bob swaying as tilts her head to the side. “you gonna be fine?”

your first thought: no, absolutely not. 

the only answer you can give, punctuated by a weak smile: “yeah. yeah, i’m gonna be all right. thanks.”

the girl puts her makeup away and gives your shoulder a final squeeze. “i think they’ll be finishing soon, so i’m gonna pop back out so i don’t miss it. try and get some rest, yeah? you look like you could use it.”

she exits the bathroom, a song momentarily pouring through the door, and you find yourself alone in the empty room.

before you can stop yourself, you twist on your heel and lunge for the nearest toilet. you vomit, heaving what little remains in your stomach, until there is nothing left to unearth. dropping back against the stall, you duck your head between your knees. 

this is just a fever dream. maybe you got scared during the storm, hit your head, and passed out on the bathroom floor. there’s no way in hell—no way in hell—this is nineteen-seventy-eight. that’s preposterous. and sure, queen might have gotten their start at imperial college—everyone knows that—but that was eons ago. freddie mercury is dead, john deacon is retired, and brian may and roger taylor are well within their seventies. the girl must be mistaken or strung out or high or all of the above.

or maybe you are. you can’t be sure anymore.

your legs tremble beneath you as you stand. if any good has come of this, it’s that you’re dry now—suspiciously so. despite the pale sheen on your face and layer of sweat on your forehead, it’s as if you were never drenched to begin with. your cream pleated trousers have no wrinkles along the back after you spent all afternoon stuffing and unstuffing boxes on the floor. your navy top is void of the stubborn coffee stain you’d gotten this morning as you rushed into the museum ten minutes late. it’s almost as if the day never happened.

it’s almost as if the day—saturday, september fifth, twenty-twenty—is still forty-two years in the future instead of thirty minutes away from ending.

“all right, we’ve got one more for you lovelies tonight! this one’s new, so keep it a secret ‘till the record comes out, okay?”

you turn at the sound of a familiar voice amplified over a loudspeaker.

freddie mercury.

though you’ve never been a huge queen fan, you’re positive anyone with even a passing knowledge of classic rock could hear his voice and pick it out in a lineup.

heart in your throat, you sling your bag over your shoulder and squeeze out the door. the energy in the hall has heightened tenfold since you last stood in the bathroom doorway. perhaps it’s due to the fact that the concert is rapidly drawing to a close and everyone wants to drink in the last moments before it’s all over.

perhaps it’s simply because it’s queen.

as your eyes slide to the stage, you can’t help but feel a giddiness rise in your chest. your throat goes tight, eyes misty, as you weave through the crowd on auto-pilot. you’re drawn to them; who wouldn’t be? the floor shakes beneath your feet as the music surges around you. he’s magnificent—freddie. he commands the crowd with ease, and you feel at home, relaxed, like you’re watching a friend goof around. seeing him there—whole, well, happy—is nothing short of a miracle.

“aren’t they marvelous?” you turn to see the girl from the bathroom. she holds your bicep tight in her fingers. her smile is radiant, her face glowing with unbridled joy. “i’m glad you made it out for this!”

you nod dumbly, swiveling back to drink in the final moments. matthew at the coffee shop you frequent would kill for something like this. you want to text him, to rub it in his face with a good-natured wink, but he hasn’t been born yet, has he? seeing freddie mercury on stage confirms it.

you’re not in twenty-twenty anymore.

the song draws to a close, and you find yourself smiling despite the uncertainty of your current situation. you can’t help but applaud alongside the rest of the audience. someone shouts “encore” but freddie waves him off with a laugh.

“we just did a fucking encore!” he says.

they take their bows—all four of them—and then disappear backstage. a moment passes before the house lights flicker on, and the crowd begins to disperse. trash litters the floor, and the room doesn’t feel as magical as it did seconds before, but you find it hard to breathe nonetheless. try as you might, you can’t tear your eyes away from the stage.

“oh my god, wasn’t that brilliant?” bathroom-girl practically jumps up and down on her ballet-slippered feet. “i’m anna, in case you were wondering,” she says.

you hesitate. there’s too much going on around you, so many things you’ve only read about or seen in pictures: the fashion, the hair, the fucking band. you feel dizzy—dizzy with fear and excitement. it’s like you’re standing in line for a rollercoaster. you know what’s coming: the slow climb up the first hill, anticipation bubbling in your stomach before the first drop, then the madness of letting yourself plummet at incredible speeds. all you can do is laugh, just like you do on the rollercoaster.

“[y/n],” you say between fits of amusement. “sorry! i don’t know what’s gotten into me!” you press a hand to your mouth, shaking your head back and forth.

anna grins. “that was me when the concert first started.” she bends her head toward yours conspiratorially. “i nearly pissed myself when i saw john deacon walk out for the first time.”

your laughter turns to girlish giggles and holding her forearm is all you can do to keep from falling to the floor. you’re drunk, surely. drunk off what, you can’t say, but you’ve felt like this before.

“hey!” anna’s eyes go wide, and you can see the lightbulb turn on above her head. “i saw where they parked their vans. we could go have a look-see!”

your initial reaction is a resounding no. just the thought of standing mere meters away from queen makes you want to break out into hives. you’re sure to say something stupid and embarrassing or screw up some time-continuum-thing. you’ve seen enough doctor who to know not to mess about with time.

oh god, you must be really fucking crazy if this is what you’re life has come to, deciding what the right or wrong move is based on a children’s television show.

yet there’s still a sliver of your heart holding on to the hope that this is all a dream. you could wake up at any moment, still in the concert hall, yes, but where you belong and a soaked mess from the rainstorm. so, even though you know you shouldn’t, even though your heart of hearts tells you that you’re a girl out of place and far away from home, you nod and let anna drag you toward the a side-exit door.

outside, the air is chilly, but it soothes your hot skin. 

standing outside the concert hall is perhaps more strange than standing in it. you know this spot; you walk behind the building every day. if you follow the winding path toward the dormitories and then veer to the left, you’ll eventually reach your flat—or you would if this were some other time. it’s not a terribly long walk, and most of the time, you find it refreshing. but today, with the sun replaced by the moon and the evening air and anna’s nervous energy, you find yourself a mite too cold. the cold settles in your stomach, not on your body, and you catalog the area. the parking lot has been repaved, all the dips and cracks you know so well gone. the tree which overhangs a dumpster in the corner is but a small sapling, and the dumpster is nowhere to be seen. the cold in your belly spreads to your chest, and, for a moment, you forget what it is anna dragged you here for.

but then her fingers grip your wrist tightly, and you remember: queen.

“look,” she whispers. “there they are.”

you follow her eyeline to the gaggle of men descending a ramp propped beneath a set of double-doors. in the thin veil of darkness you inhabit, it’s hard to make out who is who. brian is unmistakable, what with his gangly arms and legs and tilted shoulders. freddie is easy to pick out, too; he walks with a swagger only he can pull off. everyone else is a jumble of faces obscured by the night and a cloud of cigarette smoke. they’re loud, but not rowdy, and it reminds you somewhat of a group of teenage boys out to make trouble.

“let’s go over.” anna steps forward, but you stop her with a hand on her elbow.

“no, we shouldn’t. i’m sure they’ve got security, and we really can’t just waltz up there. besides, what would we say?” you shake your head. “this is close enough, don’t you think?”

“fuck no!” her exclamation startles you, your eyebrows lifting, and she laughs. “this is likely the only time we’ll be able to meet true rockstar royalty. you can stay back if you want to, but i’m gonna go.”

“go where?”

in unison, you turn with anna on the ball of your foot. your movements are slow, hers hurried, but you both come face to face with roger taylor and you both inhale sharply. 

your first thought is foolish: he looks so young. but of course he does. he’s twenty-nine here, not seventy. half a cigarette hangs out of his mouth, and his blond hair brushes the collar of his jacket as he goes to remove the cigarette and puff a plume of smoke to the side. he wears sunglasses, despite the late hour, and if you weren’t so bloody unsettled, you’d find him attractive.

anna finds her voice first. she points her thumb over her shoulder. “well, we were gonna go and... that is, we thought we might...” she heaves a sigh, and her smile turns angelic. “you put on a great show tonight.”

roger grins, his eyes fixed on anna. “i thought i saw you in the crowd.” his voice is raspy and high and dripping with innuendo. you all know he did not see anna from behind his drum set, but that doesn’t stop her from pulling her lower lip between her teeth and batting her eyelashes. 

“oy, rog, can we get a move on, please?” 

roger frowns and slips between you and anna, his hand firm on her bicep. he shouts in the general direction of the disembodied voice. “don’t get your fucking knickers in a twist, crystal, jesus!” he rolls his eyes and looks back at anna. “sorry, he’s like a damn mother hen. i didn’t catch your name.”

“anna.” she’s breathless, ready to drip to the floor in a puddle of goo. it’s painfully obvious, and roger seems to like that. his hand rubs an untraceable pattern over her shoulder. 

“and your friend?” he doesn’t look at you when he speaks, just jerks his head in your direction.

you should be offended, but really you feel like crying. an overwhelming homesickness builds in your chest. everyone you know, every place you hold so dear, none of it is as it should be. those fleeting magical moments during the concert are quickly wearing off, and you feel yourself slipping back to the panic you’d fought in the bathroom.

“that’s [y/n].”

“would you gals like to join us for some drinks?” this time roger does look at you, his gaze soft but purposeful. he’s daring you to turn him down.

maybe it’s the homesickness. maybe it’s the idea that you can be anything, anyone, here with few personal repercussions. maybe it’s the haughty glint in roger’s eye. whatever it is, it finally gets you talking.

“lead the way,” you say, your eyebrow raised in silent challenge.

roger’s smirk widens, and he tugs anna against his side with an arm around the waist. “gladly.”

the inside of the tour bus is cramped. you suspected it might be so based on the outside, but you didn’t realize just how tight the quarters would truly be. you’re stiff, sat on a stool between two men with long brown hair and equally long faces. there’s a tremor in your leg, and you itch to steal the cigarette out of the man-on-your-left’s mouth and smoke your anxiety away. 

for anna’s part, she seems at ease, and you envy that. she’s wrapped around roger’s arm, pressed against him on the couch, and in that moment you feel a certain flare of hatred toward her. you’d always been jealous of the girls who could so effortlessly flirt and make a move and get what they want. you never had to the confidence to follow suit. sitting as you are near the back of the bus, crammed between two sullen and tired roadies, you’re reminded of secondary school lunches. a rush of discomfort heats the back of your neck, and you shift on the stool. your movement must disturb to the man next to you because he shifts, too. he leans away, twisting his neck to look at you.

“you good?” the smoke that leaves his parted lips circles around your head, stinging your eyes.

“i wish everyone would stop asking me that,” you mutter. it comes out before you can stop it, and when you realize what you’ve said, you sink down further on your stool. your hand comes to squeeze your forehead. “oh god.”

but the man just laughs. “here.” he hands you an unopened beer. it’s cold to the touch, dripping with sweat. “you look like you could use it.”

you lift it slightly in a sign of thanks before popping the tab and taking a swig. it’s cheap, and that surprises you considering it’s queen, but you drink it anyway. 

“so, who picked you up?”

your eyebrow arches, and you look at the man on your left with a mixture of shock and distain. “no one, thank you. i came on my own accord and i’ll leave in the same way.”

out of the corner of your eye, from his place on a low bench in front of you, you think you see brian turn slightly, his curls swaying with the movement. but he doesn’t face you after all, so it must have been your imagination.

“okay, okay!” the man holds his hands up in surrender, mirth etched along the lines in his face. “sorry!”

you resist the urge to huff, cross your arms, and pout like a child. you pull at your beer instead.

the man nudges you with his elbow. “chris taylor, by the way. crystal.” he points to the man on your right. “that’s ratty—pete.”

pete looks tired enough to fall out of his chair. all he can do is raise his eyebrows in greeting and drop his head back against the wall. 

“i’m [y/n].”

crystal mirrors ratty’s movements and stretches his legs out underneath the card-table. “well, i must admit that you might be one of the most level-headed lasses we’ve had in here—and we’ve had plenty of girls grace this bus.”

you aren’t sure if he’s bragging or simply making conversation, so you ignore the comment and say, “i’ve had a... strange day. it’s a lot to take in.” 

you’re not lying. really, it is a lot to take in. the tour bus is hot and sweaty, but conversation is quiet, like a background hum. it’s not what you thought it would be; nothing is.

“didn’t think you’d end up here?”

you shake your head. “absolutely not.”

crystal smiles, and you find yourself smiling back, the truth in your words humorous to you and you alone.

the bus door opens, and a flurry of sound enters the already-cramped space. crystal sits forward; ratty seems to wake up. at once, the energy is higher. you feel your heart begin to pound against your ribcage. 

freddie enters the bus in all his post-concert glory. you’d been a baby when he died, but now you sit at the back of his tour bus, watching as he laughs and jokes and lives. it makes you want to throw up all over again.

he stands in the center of the bus, hands on his hips, surveying the jumble of roadies and groupies and band members. “well?” the corner of your mouth quirks upward at the sound of his voice; you can’t help it. “have we decided where we’re crashing yet?”

“uh, yeah.” john deacon pipes up from his spot at the front of the bus. you hadn’t noticed him all night, but there he stands, leaning against the driver’s seat, a map in hand. “i think we’re gonna—”

“oh hell, we don’t need that!” roger slaps the map out of john’s hands. it crumples between his fingers, and he all but pulls anna onto his lap. she squeals in delight. “we’ve got our own personal tour guide right here. not to mention brian. he’s got to know his way about.”

“don’t forget [y/n], roger!” anna says, ever the good friend.

no, please. please, for the love of god, forget [y/n].

as one, the tour bus turns to look at you. this time bile does rise in the back of your throat. 

sitting in the back of the bus you can handle. crystal is nice, and simply being in the presence of music royalty is sure to be the peak of the rest of your life—whatever that may look like. but having them all look at you, expectantly, waiting for you to giggle or blush or say something, it’s that too much you told crystal about moments earlier. only this time, it’s so much you feel like your head might explode.

even though it feels like decades, only a few seconds have gone by since everyone began waiting for you to make a peep. so when you look at anna and say, “i’m sure you know better than me,” it doesn’t sound awkward. it sounds like a comment shared between friends. you’re thankful for that, at least.

“okay, fine.” anna claps her hands together. “what are you in the mood for, freddie?”

your eyebrow lifts at her familiarity, and beside you, crystal chuckles behind his hand. god, she’s good. you are... decidedly not.

“anything fabulous. we’ve just had a good show, if i do say so myself, and i want to have some fun before we really have to start working.”

“we are working, fred.” it’s the first thing you’ve heard brian say all evening. you can’t see his face from where you’re sitting, so his voice sounds far away. far away but ever so nice to the ears.

freddie waves his hands dismissively. “you know what i mean.”

“there’s a disco club a few blocks from here,” anna offers. “it’s not garishly disco, but it’s fun.”

there’s a pause before freddie says, “it’s late, so it’ll have to do.” he turns to brian with a grin. “do you think we should call ahead?”

twenty minutes and three phone calls later, you’re walking side-by-side with crystal and ratty, hands twitching at your sides, desperately wishing for the comfort of a pair of pockets. if you’d hazard a guess, you’d say there’s about twenty people headed for the club. you know you should feel happy, exuberant at the chance to party with queen in the 70s, but your head hurts. it really, really hurts, and you haven’t the faintest idea where you’ll spent the night. you have no money, no contacts—nothing but the clothes on your back and the half-empty purse thrown over your shoulder.

“[y/n], where are you from?” ratty asks. his questions is harmless enough, but it breaks your underarms out in an uncomfortable sweat. how can you explain that you’re from here, the very here you’re walking on, without also explaining why you have no idea where the disco club is or where the charming flower stand on the corner has gone? 

you settle on something vague, but passable. “not from around here.” the toe of your shoe kicks at a loose pebble, which skips forward, nearing the long strides of brian. 

“on holiday then?”

“something like that, yeah.” you smile to soften the blow of your unsubstantial answers, and it seems to appease.

you chat with the roadies about inconsequential things—roger’s horrible morning breath, the oil crisis and its impact on the upcoming tour, whether or not pigeons lay eggs. it’s small talk, and you ask more questions than give answers, but it relaxes the ache in your shoulders. you have to remind yourself breathe, drink in what you can while you can. you’ll be okay. 

you have to be.

the group rounds the corner like an amoeba, all uneven edges and uncertain direction. though the hour is rapidly closing in on one a.m., the road is filled. a few of the cars closest to the curb honk and frenzied arms reach out windows to wave as queen passes them by. a girl flashes her tits from the sunroof of her car; roger gives her a thumbs up.

“is it always like this?” you ask.

crystal laughs. “this is nothin’, dove. we’ve got this party planned for october in new orleans, and i am honestly a little bit afraid of what might happen.”

the club comes into view, music ebbing through the open front door. climax is written in bright yellow lightbulbs across the marquee, and someone squeezes anna’s shoulder with a laugh. the line waiting to enter is long, roped off in anticipation of your arrival. those in queue push forward as your party begins to enter. freddie signs a few autographs on the back of receipts. brain scrawls across the crest of someone’s hip with a shit-eating grin on his face.

the resounding thought that you shouldn’t be here flickers through your mind and not for the first time. you ignore it as crystal leads you into the club, a hand tucked in the small of your back. his touch is anything but sexual, and it’s a relief. he likely sees you as a lost puppy, out of her depth, and you might have to lean into that come closing time.

“do you want something to drink?” he shouts over the music and laughter and shouting. 

you nod eagerly. “yes, please!”

weaving through horde of dancers, you find a spot at a cocktail table tucked near a back corner. “boogie wonderland” plays over the louder speakers, and it grates against your headache. the disco ball in the center of the room spins and spins and spins, casting sprinkles of white light over the room. you can’t stop watching it, wondering what it would feel like to wrap yourself around the ball and stay there forever. it probably wouldn’t feel very different from how you feel right now, though your legs are planted firmly on the ground.

“lost in thought?”

you turn, expecting to see crystal with your drink, but you’re met with the incredibly tall form of brian may. you have to tip your head back to meet his eyes he’s standing so close. he must notice because he takes a fraction of a step backwards, his smile widening.

your mouth goes dry, but you manage a shaky nod. “yeah, i guess.” you blink and run your eyes over his face. like roger, he’s painfully young. his curls are dark and full, his skin smooth. he’s handsome, ridiculously so, and despite what some may believe, you think he knows it too.

“you’ve been awful quiet tonight.” he leans against the table with ease. the edge, which reaches your chest, seems to dig into his hip, and he adjusts himself to a more comfortable stance. “most girls are chatty.”

“that’s what crystal said.”

brian chuckles under his breath. “yeah, crystal would know.” he glances over his shoulder then looks back at you. “[y/n], right?”

you’re surprised he remembered or overheard or asked someone before walking over. it’s a simple thing, but just hearing your name grounds you. you don’t care who says it; it reminds you that you are, in fact, still human. and it doesn’t hurt that brian’s voice is like butter. it could put anyone at ease.

for the first time that evening, you feel a lightness in your chest as you smirk and meet his gaze. “brian, right?”

at this, he throws his head back to laugh. his reaction brings a blush to your face, and you duck your head, uncertain where your burst of flirty energy has come from. moments ago, you’d been yearning for the comfort of a good bed and solid night’s rest. now, you could stand in this dark corner and look at brian, hear him laugh, until you fall asleep standing.

when he’s calmed, brian looks at you again. there’s a shift in his stare, one you can’t quite place. “what do you do, [y/n]?”

this time, you decide to answer honestly. “i’m a student, most of the time,” you say. “but eventually i’ll be a curator for museums.”

his eyebrows lift. “a curator? that’s bloody brilliant.” 

you shrug. “i like history and photography and design. it’s kind of the perfect blend.” glancing at your empty hands, you fumble for your words then meet his eyes through the underside of your lashes. “a little birdie told me you’re pretty smart yourself.”

he tilts his head in a noncommittal manner, and you swear you can see a tinge of color rise along the top of his exposed chest. “i suppose.”

“what is your specialty again? besides the guitar, of course.”

“astrophysics with a concentration in interplanetary dust.” before you can make a quip about how much interplanetary dust is actually around to study, he leans close. he has to bend at the waist to lower his mouth to the shell of your ear, and when he speaks, it’s hardly above a whisper. “i’m good at other things, too, you know? besides space and the guitar.”

you draw back slightly, enough look into his eyes. his pupils are dark, overpowering the hazel tint of his irises. if you move an inch, your lips will brush his mouth; you stay still, your eyes darting back and forth between his.

you feel utterly ridiculous for a fraction of a second. he’s brian may, first of all, and you are decidedly not worthy of his attentions. but more than that, this isn’t your home, your time. the thought makes you cringe. 

fucking hell, you don’t belong here.

his long fingers skim your waist. the touch is feather-light, a mere whisper, but it pulls you from your thoughts.

“what are you thinking?” he breathes.

“not much.” it’s a half-truth; you can barely focus on your existential crisis with his fingertips working along your skin as they are. he’s brazen enough to dip underneath the hem of your shirt just enough to touch the skin of your hip. you bite your tongue. “wondering where you got the nerve to be so cheeky all of a sudden.”

he withdrawals his hand as if he’s been bitten by fire, cheeks gone red as flame. “sorry, sorry,” he stammers. “i just thought that—”

you know you shouldn’t, that it will only lead to trouble, but you do it anyway.

you grab his wrist and squeeze tight. “i’m only joking, brian.” your grip relaxes as you grin. “come dance with me.”

he huffs a sigh of relief, shaking his head. “damn, you really—”

you interrupt him again, your feet moving on their own accord toward the dance floor. there’s this strange desire in you—a desire to forget—and he seems willing enough to be the one to help you lose track of your troubles. “come dance with me.”

“i don’t really know how,” he admits, though his smile is wide, showing off his teeth.

“me neither! we can look like idiots together.”

somewhat reluctantly, brian follows you onto the dance floor. the music is louder here, the song changed to something you don’t recognize. you weren’t lying when you said dancing wasn’t your forte. in primary school, you’d stepped on the toes of every boy in your music class during the week of mandatory dance lessons. things haven’t changed much since then as you promptly land your foot on brian’s seconds into the song.

you gasp and clamp your hands over your mouth in an effort to obscure your laughter. “shit, i’m sorry!”

“it’s fine!” he yells, straining to make his voice heard over the thrumming of the music. “the clogs, they’re kinda like a protective shell.”

swaying to the beat, your hands slide along his forearms. “oh yeah? what do they protect you from?” 

“klutzy girls like you.”

looking back on the moment years later, you wonder if that’s when you fell in love with him first, on the dance floor, his gangly body unaccustomed to fluid movement. he makes you laugh with his two left feet, and you forget, like you’d hoped, that you do not belong in his arms. as the music ebbs and flows like the tide, you follow it, swinging, swaying, twirling in whatever way you can. you’re sweaty, and he’s sweaty, but you’re both smiling. at some point, you bump into anna who bumps into roger who bumps into freddie and then it’s some version of disco mosh pit, arms and elbows and feet tangled together. you’re laughing—truly laughing for what feels like the first time in ages—and, if you could, you’d stay in that moment forever.

the music slows. you breathe hard, nodding as anna whispers something in your ear about leaving with roger. you aren’t sure if you’ll see her again, aren’t sure if it matters, but you’re thankful for her nonetheless. hers was the first kind face you met, and for that, you can never repay her.

a pair of arms wrap around your middle, pulling you tight against a lean chest, dipping you side to side as the music trills in the background. he mumbles against the skin of your neck. “rog’s leaving with anna.”

you nod and curl your fingernails around his forearms. “i know.”

“is it too presumptuous of me to ask if you’ll do the same? not leave with him, i mean. leave with me.”

you could say something about his proposal being too forward after only a handful of hours together, but you don’t. you feel dizzy from dancing, dizzy with a sense of freedom. normally, you’d never follow a guy home after just meeting. it’s never been in your nature, despite the times you wished it were. tonight, though, you feel like you can do anything.

and if that means letting brian may take you back to his hotel where he’ll likely screw the daylights out of you, so be it.

you twist slightly in his arms, enough to look up at him. you repeat your words of earlier. there’s no hint of a challenge in your voice this time, only desire. “lead the way.” 

by the time you reach the door of brian’s hotel room, you’re fumbling with what buttons on his shirt are actually buttoned. his lips are pressed against yours, and you can feel his smile on your teeth as you struggle to both kick the door open with your heel and work the last two buttons.

“you know,” you mumble against his mouth. “you’d make it a lot easier for me if you just don’t button any of them. you’re halfway there, anyway.”

“so i’ve been told,” he replies, his own fingers pushing the three buttons of your blouse through the small holes.  

the comment gives you pause. your hands still on the warm skin of his shoulders, and you pull back. his eyelids are heavy, his lips parted and plump. you don’t know what it is about his words that make you stop. maybe it’s the idea of him in a similar situation with another girl. of course, you know you aren’t the first concert-goer he’s dragged home; you aren’t that much of an idiot. still, the thought niggles at the back of your brain.

his hands slide away from your shirt to cup your face, and he bends down to kiss you softly. this kiss is different from the ones he’d given you in the lift—hungry and demanding—and in the hallway—earnest and consuming. he’s gentle, painfully so, and tears spring to your eyes. you’ve never been kissed like this, not so tenderly. it makes your heart stop.

“just you and me, [y/n],” he whispers when he breaks the touch. “just you and me.”

you nod and finish pushing the white shirt off his shoulders. 

he doesn’t fuck you. he truly makes love to you, worshipping your body until you both are spent and sweaty, sheets tangled around your limbs. when he collapses beside you with a soft groan, you feel the overwhelming urge to cry. it’s embarrassing, really. but it’s been such a long day, and you’re tired—tired and happy and warm. you throw your arm over your eyes to keep from showing your emotion. you absolutely refuse to be the girl who cries after having sex with brian may.

you feel the bedsheets rustle as he props himself up on his elbow. his fingernail skims along your collarbone. “you’re so... divine.”

you drop your arm to stare at him, heart thumping in your chest. his eyes flick up to meet yours. he smiles and looks at you as if he’s known you his whole life, not seven hours. there’s nothing you can say that will capture how you feel in this moment, so you simply grab him by the neck and pull him down for a bruising kiss. 

later, when you’re drifting off to sleep, one of his sleep shirts swallowing you, his chest against your back, one leg pushed between both of yours, you wonder if you’ll wake up in the morning and find it was all a dream. it certainly would make for a good story once you make it home to your flat. even so, if it isn’t a dream, the part of you that so desperately yearned for home hours earlier is slipping away. 

you could stay here, like this, if he let you. 

shaking your head, you burrow against him. such silly thoughts. even if you have to stay here, out of place, for the rest of your life, this night was a one-time thing. you must know that. so, you’ll cherish his arms around you while you can and commit everything to memory. 

come morning, you find yourself still in nineteen-seventy-eight and deliciously sore. you’re embarrassed to say you smile at the revelation of both situations.

stretching your arms over your head as your eyes flutter open, you groan with your stretch. after your eyes have adjusted to the bright morning light streaming through the open curtains, you look around the room and find brian sitting at the small table in the middle of the kitchenette. he has the hotel phone cradled against his shoulder and ear and looks delightfully sleep-muddled. you slip from bed, uncertain how you should act.

will he send you away now that the night is gone? you wouldn’t blame him. your fingers twist the hem of his shirt as you sway from foot to foot at the base of the bed.

he looks up and waves you over. a good sign, at least.

bare feet padding against the carpet, you cross to his side, but don’t reach out to smooth the unruly curls on his head as you wish you could. the thought crosses your mind that you are painfully in love with him already, and it doesn’t even phase you. it just makes you laugh to yourself.

“what do you want for breakfast?”

you blink. “sorry?”

“breakfast? what do you want?”

“i don’t really care. anything,” you say with a shrug. at his pointed look, you concede with a roll of your eyes. “fine. a waffle.”

he adds a waffle to the order, thanks the person on the other end, then puts the phone down. he’s quick to grab your waist and pull you to his lap, his lips attaching to a sensitive spot on your neck. you giggle and swat his shoulder.

“i thought you wouldn’t be so keen about me come morning,” you admit, keeping your tone playful as you pull back to brush the hair from his face.

his forehead crinkles. “why wouldn’t i be?”

you shrug. “we barely know each other. plus, i’m [y/n] [y/l/n] and you’re brian may. not exactly an obvious match.”

he’s quiet a moment, eyes searching yours, before he says, “what do you think about plato’s allegory of the cave?”

you choke on a laugh. “i’m sorry?”

“you know, plato’s cave—what do you think about it?”

he’s being serious, something that absolutely stuns you into answering honestly. you settle on his knee, arms twisted around his neck, as you consider your response. “well, i mean, i think it’s a good metaphor.” you pause. “it makes me think of people and their cell phones.”

“cell phones?”

shaking your head, you backtrack. “i mean, just technology in general. when it comes to technology, we never really know what we’re getting, do we, usually until it’s too late. i know it wasn’t his intention, but the cave makes me think of that. the way technology can so easily take control and we’re powerless to stop it.”

your words hang in the air for a long while. then he dips forward and claims your mouth with his. you shuffle in his lap, surprised, a soft oh parting your lips. he kisses you with that same hunger you’d felt in the lift the previous evening. when he draws back, he presses his forehead to yours.

“come with me,” he breathes.

you still completely, hands dropping from his neck to his arms. the clock on the desk in the corner ticks, loud and annoying. “what?”

“come with me.” he draws back to run a hand over the hair framing your face. “on tour. we leave next month.”

“you’re insane, brian.”

he shakes his head. “no, i’m not.” his words are resolute, anything but unsure.

“we’ve only just met and i don’t think you know what—”

“i know what i’m saying, [y/n].” his hands move to hold your face. “come with me. i’m crazy about you. say what you will about the timing, but i don’t care. you’re smart and funny and beautiful and i want to get to know you more, but i’m leaving. i’d kill to have you by my side.”

“brian...”

your head is spinning, your throat gone dry. someone knocks on the door in the hall—room service—but he keeps talking.

“it’s north america first, then europe, then asia. it’s long, i know, but you don’t have to stay the whole time. i couldn’t ask you to leave your studies like that. you can leave any time you want.”

“brian,” you say again, this time more forcefully, yet he continues.

“i just think that... after last night... fuck, i really like you, [y/n], and i’d hate to see some other guy swoop in while i’m gone.”

he stops at last, breathing heavy, his wiry frame practically trembling with anxiety. you smooth your hands down his neck and across his shoulders, smiling softly. and maybe you’re just as crazy as he is because you lean in, kiss his lips, and say, “okay, i’ll come with you.”

you don’t think twice. don’t have to, really.

he grins, his fingers squeezing your thighs. “really?”

you nod. “really. but only so long as we can go to a disco every now and again. i think john would like that.”

he laughs and delves his fingers in your hair, kissing you hard. you forget about the breakfast waiting in the hall. it doesn’t matter.

a month and a half later, you’re stood outside the record company’s london office, thumbing through your hastily-acquired, perhaps-not-totally-legal passport. crystal had gotten it for you. there being no record of your birth, you aren’t sure how he managed it, but you don’t ask any questions.

the last month and a half have been a whirlwind, to say the least.

you’ve been, largely, happy. any chance you get is spent by brian’s side, and he seems just as eager to pass his free hours with you. you were able to snag a job at a corner diner to make some money for basic necessities—a change of clothes, for starters—and anna, also invited on the tour, gave you free reign of her pull-out sofa without asking for an explanation. 

but despite spending more time in brian’s hotel room than anna’s living room, and despite the blissed-out evenings and comfortable mornings and long chats and shared moments of quiet, despite everything that makes you happy here, you still know it’s not right. it’s not where you belong.

so as you’re standing outside the record company, heavy suitcases at your feet, roadies and groupies alike milling about, you can’t help but feel on edge. it’s that same feeling you had the first night you arrived: your heart is in your throat, your chest tight. 

maybe it’s the clothes: the tight, flared jeans, white prairie blouse, chunky tan heels. it’s cute, but it’s not you. not yet, anyway.

maybe it’s the hair: you’d had to get it cut earlier in the month, anna dragging you to a salon after claiming your hair was too dowdy. when you look in the mirror now, you feel like farrah fawcett, and that’s not totally bad, but it’s taken some getting used to.

maybe it’s the lack of technology: you’re so used to your phone being attached to your palm, or your car keys jingling in your purse, or your earbuds falling out of said purse at inopportune times. now, you just have a bag with a book in it and a few pieces of really uncomfortable makeup. 

all of it serves as a reminder that this is not home.

“ready to go?”

you look up from your passport and squint as the sun hits your eyes. brian stands in front of you, and he moves to block the sunlight. you laugh. “you’re like my own personal sunblocker.” 

“it’s a gift and a curse.” dropping a duffle bag, he bends to unzip it and pull out a box wrapped in plain brown paper. “here, i got you something.”

you frown. “brian, that’s not necessary.”

he pushes the box toward you. “just hush and take it.”

with a sigh, you take the box from his hands. over your shoulder, gerry stickells, tour manager, calls for everyone to load the bus with their belongings. the flight to dallas doesn’t leave for several hours, but he likes to be punctual, and the band plus thirty-odd crew and three or four extra girls makes for a hard group to wrangle at once. you don’t envy him his job.

brian leans a little closer, dropping his voice as he watches gerry herd stragglers toward the bus doors. “open it before he comes to shout at us.”

“fine, but you still shouldn’t have gotten me anything.” 

you rip the paper from the box then slide your nail under the edge. pushing back the cardboard folds, you find a camera nestled amongst sleeves of tissue paper. it’s a small camera, the name canon etched along the silver rim. a thin leather strap is curled around the black casing. 

“brian,” you breathe. you meet his eyes, which shine and sparkle and send a thrill to your chest. “this is too much.”

“when we met you said you liked photography. i figured there might be things you’d like to take pictures of while we’re gone.”

cradling the box against your chest, you rise to your toes to press a firm kiss to his mouth. your fingers wind in the hair at the back of his neck, and his hands come to rest on your sides. as has become custom, you feel his smile on your mouth.

“does that mean you like it?” he murmurs. 

drawing back, you nod. your cheeks hurt your smile is so wide. “yes, of course! thank you!”

gerry’s voice interrupts brian’s response, and you turn to see him, red in the face, pointing to the running vehicle. “hey, you can do that on the bus! get a move on!”

by the time you find your seat on the bus, the tour is already running behind schedule. gerry blames brian, who only shrugs in apology. there’s a brief speech of general safety and schedule from gerry then one of excitement and giddiness from freddie. then the bus rolls out of the parking lot.

you’re nestled on brian’s lap, his arms around your stomach, a game of scrabble on the table in front of you. to your right, john pulls at a cigarette.

“fred, we haven’t even left the country. i don’t want to be sick of this game before tomorrow.”

freddie sticks his tongue out. he places a letter square down and rubs his hands together. “ha! that’s... sixteen points. deaky, write it down!”

brian shifts to glance over your shoulder. “no, that’s not a word, fred.”

“of course it is!” he points to you. “[y/n], please tell him it’s a word.”

instead, you smile and take a picture of him, consternation on his face, finger pointed in the direction of the camera. he groans and rolls his eyes, dropping back against his chair. brian snuggles you close, his breath ghosting over your neck. 

as the bus heads for the airport and the game of scrabble continues, crystal leaning over your seat to add his two-cents, you lean back and sigh. there’s a warmth in your chest, in your heart, that you haven’t felt in a long time. you intertwine your fingers with brian’s and squeeze his knuckles.

maybe... maybe this where you belong after all.

~*~*~*

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