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pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 2 months ago

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Chan x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Suicide, Death, Grief, Slight Age Gap, Life after loss, Cursing, Angst, Blood, Brother's Friend, Manic Behavior, Depression, Panic Attacks.

If you or someone you know is suffering from suicidal ideation or thoughts of harming themselves, please reach out for help. You never know when someone's last day will be; no one ever does. But if you can help - even just a tiny bit, sometimes a word, text, or even a call can be a catalyst for positive change.

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pt2 Part Three

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The plane touched down with a soft jolt, pulling you from the haze of exhaustion and a slight anxiety. As the aircraft came to a full stop, you stared out the window at the sprawling airport. Korea was now your home - or at least, it would be for the foreseeable future.

As long as things worked out.

Slowly, you disembarked and moved through the crowded terminals, your mind racing. Not with many coherent thoughts, but thoughts none the less.

You could feel the slight stares of some people, but they looked away almost as quickly. You hadn’t been in Korea for years, and the reality of stepping back into this world was a bit overwhelming.

Especially considering last time you were just a small child, watching your brother kickstart his career. You had seen the streets and people over countless video calls, but it had been a while since you had breathed the same air as them.

You ran through the differences in cultural norms and no-no's in your head as a way of keeping busy. It would be a culture shock; but it would be one you were prepared for.

You collected your luggage and made your way to the arrival hall, the bustling noise and movement swirling around you.

You stood there only a second before your attention was drawn. Through the crowd, you spotted a familiar face, even if the one with that face wasn't well known: Mr. Kim, your brother’s old manager, waiting by the barrier.

He was still the same as you had remembered- tall and authoritative, yet his eyes softened as he saw you. "The last time I saw you," he said with a nostalgic smile, "you barely reached my knees." His hand was level to your previous height, and his eyes crinkled.

He didn't seem old, but the age in his face showed years beyond the time he had spent on this planet. The lines of stress and sadness marring his objectively attractive features.

You managed a faint smile, feeling a lump in your throat. "It’s been a while." Hajun hadn't had a proper funeral. Your parents wanted something small, and he was buried quietly. A part of you were angered at the fact. You wished your parents had given him a proper funeral, so others who knew him also could mourn, but they had amounted it to saying there would be other services held by the company and those he knew in Korea; and that his immediate family of all people were the ones who deserved the most intimate goodbye. Which is why they decided to forgo any big production and just have him buried within days of his passing.

There was an uncomfortable silence, and you searched your mind for something to say.

How do you go about things like this? Sorry for your loss? Sorry our loss?

Before you could say anything, a young man with dark hair and a warm smile stepped forward. It was Haru, one of Hajun’s group members. He hesitated briefly, giving you a look before pulling you into a gentle hug.

You instinctively shut your eyes, letting yourself breathe in his scent. It was a while since you had a hug, and it felt so good it was almost as if Hajun was the one holding you in his embrace.

Haru had always smelled like the flowers of his native country. You remembered the distinct cherry blossom and an earthy musk. Smelling it, it was impossible not to think of springtime breezes, and you knew as long as you lived it would be a smell that evoked a sense of peace and grounding within you, a scent that would always remain familiar.

"It’s good to see you again Hime," Haru said softly. He rested his hand on your head gently and smiled. He had referred to you as princess for as long as you could remember.

He was who you would consider Hajun's very best friend. His company was one of the more gracious ones offering substantial rest after great work- and with every holiday Hajun had been able to make it home, or every time the group was resting between comebacks and he decided to fly home, even if only for a weekend, Haru tagged along.

He had been calling you Hime even longer. The first time you had seen him on stage, dancing next to Hajun your 9-year-old self fell in love with the guy who in your eyes was as beautiful as a Prince. Even if Haru was 16 at the time.

"Juju, you met a Prince!" Your lisp due to your missing teeth was endearing, and your parents had laughed at how rosy your cheeks were as you watched Haru dry his sweat with a towel. Hajun grunted as he lifted you into his arms, then laughing as you wiggled wanting to be put down.

"I'm not a baby! He'll think I'm a baby!" You whined, perching yourself behind Hajun's leg as you watched Haru interact with a staff member. He chuckled and turned.

"Haru! Atarashī fan ga dekita to omoimasu. (Haru! I think I've found a fan)" Your eyes widened as unfamiliar words rolled off of your brother's tongue, those words causing the dark haired boy to turn in your direction. You immediately slinked back behind your brother even more, as Haru squatted down to your eye level. "Kanojo wa anata no koto o ōji-samada to omotte imasu.(She thinks you're a prince)"

He had smiled and waved. "What's your name?" You just stared and didn't answer, honestly a little shocked to how well he spoke English, little you blind to the fact that he had spent a few years of his youth in America. He gave a mock pout. His eyes bright and kind. "I didn't think Princesses were usually this shy. I guess I'll just have to call you Hime. Is that okay, Hime?"

His eyes had held that same kindness that you had first seen in them all that time ago and every time after. A type of kindness that couldn't be ignored. The followers of Eclips3 often referred to Hajun and Haru as their "spring" due to their similar demeanors. Haru being more so the start of Spring, the transition of cold to warm, and calm. While Hajun was the warmth into something a bit fierier and more energetic. The countless videos you had seen captioned "Our Spring" that captured the wholeness of their relationship made your heart ache with longing.

Another two men, Jiho and Sunwoo, stepped forward, their expressions mirroring Haru’s kindness. They also gave you warm hugs, and you could sense their familiarity. You had met them a few times maybe at most three, but they had always been friendly and welcoming, treating their beloved maknae's family as their own.

Jiho and Sunwoo looked at each other, and the older one spoke first.

"Y/N...we...we wanted to say-"

You shook your head. "You don't have to apologize or say sorry for your loss... or our loss. It's not your fault. It's not anyone's..." You felt robotic as you said those things, as if you didn't believe them yourself. "I'm just glad that while he was here, he had you guys. So thank you." Your tone wasn't rude, but it conveyed that Hajun was something that you wished to not talk about at the moment.

Mr. Kim placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We’re here for you now- to support you, Y/N. We’re your family now, just as we were for Hajun."

A surge of emotion welled up inside you, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You had done so good keeping it in since you had embarked on the plane journey, so good as your feet touched the ground at Incheon. But the presence of these familiar faces, people who had known your brother and had shared moments with him, provided a strange mix of comfort and sadness, that was threatening to break down that wall.

"We should get going," Haru said, his voice gentle. "The car is waiting outside. And while I'm sure paparazzi wouldn't recognize you in quick, they'll recognize us, and I'm sure you don't want the cameras on you at this point in time."

You nodded, allowing them to guide you through the airport and out into the crisp air. You watched as a few people snapped pictures, and it felt odd to you that they had that much audacity to invade their personal lives in a time like this.

Shouldn't they at least give them time to mourn before taking pictures? It's been a little over almost two months but still.

Haru and Sunwoo stood in position to cover your face in a subtle enough way that it seemed to be accidental.

As you settled into the car, surrounded by people who had been part of your brother’s world, you felt a small flicker of hope. This new chapter was beginning with a sense of connection to your past, even if Hajun wasn’t there to walk through it with you.

As the car pulled away, you glanced out the window, taking in the unfamiliar landscape.

"So, uh, if you don't mind me asking what made you want to come to Korea...and take after...take after Jun..." Jiho asked quietly. He was sitting in the middle row with Sunwoo. He was turned slightly in his seat and so was Sunwoo.

You felt Haru tense in the seat next to you, and visibly saw Mr. Kim's shoulders grow stiff.

Your jaw twitched slightly as you stringed together the right words to figure out what to say.

Jiho took this as you being angered by the question and started to apologize, but you spoke in a firm an even voice.

"This is my gift...my...favor to him. He left things behind. No reason in letting it go to waste."

It was simple. Maybe too simple. But if you said anymore, it would be hard to explain your thought process to him. It seemed like it worked though, since rather than continue the conversation Mr. Kim changed the direction of your chatter.

"First, let me say that the company is very interested in you," He began, his voice calm but deliberate. "When the proposal was first brought up, there were mixed reactions. It’s not every day that we consider bringing the sibling of a deceased idol into the fold, especially one as beloved as Hajun. There were concerns, naturally, about how the public would react - whether it would be seen as a tribute or as something exploitative. But once we discussed it more those concerns began to fade."

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking with yours in the rearview mirror as if to make sure you understood the gravity of what he was saying. "The company recognizes that you’re not just Hajun’s sister; but you’re an individual with your own talents and dreams. It didn't hurt that when Hajun was alive, he tended to brag about you and your abilities a lot." That sparked a couple of smiles and laughs from the guys in the car- and even a smile from you. "They want to help you develop those talents, or teach you the skills you need to learn in order to do well, but they’re also aware of the weight of expectations that will be placed on your shoulders because of who your brother was. That’s something we’ll have to navigate carefully."

Mr. Kim paused for a moment, letting the words sink in before continuing. "Training will be intense, as it always is. You’ll be put through rigorous training. While the language training deosn't seem like it will be a big issue, we'll still have to focus on dance and vocal training, regardless of how well you think you can perform. The company will expect you to work hard, just like any other trainee. But because of your connection to Hajun, there might be additional pressure - both from the public and from within the company - to see you succeed quickly. If you adapt well, there’s a possibility you could debut within a year, maybe even sooner, depending on how fast you progress."

He glanced at the group of Hajun’s former bandmates - Jiho, Sunwoo, and Haru, who were watching you both with a mix of concern and quiet encouragement. "Your relationship with the remaining members of Eclips3 will be important," Mr. Kim continued. "The company is considering the idea of you training alongside them, possibly even joining them in some capacity. They’ve already agreed to help you with your training, especially since they know you and care about you. Sunwoo, for instance, has volunteered to assist with your vocal training, and Jiho is eager to help you refine your dancing skills whenever needed. Haru, as the one closest to you, will likely take on a sort of mentor role for you."

He hesitated for a moment, then added, his expression turning more serious - "While you most likely won’t officially debut until a year or so from now as I said, due to the special circumstances, you’ll almost instantaneously be thrown into the spotlight. Given your background and connection there’s no avoiding it. Not to mention you won’t be participating in survival shows like a lot of trainees; the company is already planning to arrange for you to appear in other media - variety shows, interviews, and even special features. They want to introduce you to the public in a way that builds anticipation and interest..." He paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. "I want to be honest with you and say while we don’t intend for this to be exploitative, the reality is that everything in this industry is, at its core, a business. Simply put, the company agreed to this path so easily due to the amount of pull it will have to the public. Meaning more money for the. Your journey will most likely be one that is broadcasted extensively, with the story behind it being a focal point. I wouldn't even be surprised if they made a documentary off of it one day. Not for his legacy but for money..." His voice was sad, tinged with what sounded like regret. "The public will be fascinated, not just because you’re Hajun’s sister, but because of the emotional narrative that comes with it. I wished it didn't amount to this. But it all comes back to money, even in delicate situations like this."

"Regardless I admire you greatly for doing this. Because I know your intentions are pure, even if the industry's isn't. We’ll do our best to protect you from the harsher aspects of this process, but you need to be prepared for the fact that your every move will be watched closely. This journey, while deeply personal for you, will be a spectacle for others. It’s a difficult balance, but if we handle it right, it could also be an opportunity for you to share your story on your own terms. To share Hajun's story..." He took off his glasses and wiped the bridge of his shirt with his nose, giving himself a minute. "It'll be a great opportunity for you to cement his memory as something positive rather than a tragedy. To allow us to remember him the way we knew him." His voice was somewhat shaky and you turned away not wishing to see him cry. Jiho, Sunwoo, and Haru were all sitting in a deep silence, and you didn't look up in case you were to see a stray tear.

"Housing will be arranged close to the other members, so you’ll have a support system nearby." Mr. Kim's voice was back to an even enough tone as he pulled himself together. "The company understands that this is a strange and difficult situation, so they want to make sure you feel supported - emotionally, not just professionally." Mr. Kim stopped once more, as if in thought. "You’ll have access to counseling and any other resources you might need as you transition into this new chapter of your life."

His words hung in the air, heavy with both promise and the unspoken weight of what lay ahead. But there was also a sense of hope, a belief that, despite the challenges, this could be the start of something meaningful -not just for you, but for everyone who had been touched by Hajun’s legacy.

And he was right, it was an opportunity for you to shape the narrative of Hajun.

"What about you guys?" The words almost flew off your tongue, you didn't even comprehend thinking of the question. "What is going to happen with you guys?"

Jiho’s voice was low, a hint of resignation coloring his words as he explained the situation. "We’ve disbanded," he said, the finality of the statement hanging heavy in the air. "Losing two members back-to-back...losing Hajun..." His breath was soft. "None of us want to step on stage again. Music doesn't bring that same joy. If it wasn't for you, than I more than sure all of us would have completely departed from the idol life."

"We were already on hiatus after...after the scandal..." Sunwoo didn't even speak their former leader's name. "And now that we lost our maknae..." His voice held a deep affection and love for Hajun, and your heart pounded with an ache. "It was inevitable."

You nodded in understanding. Haru's voice ringing last.

"Music isn't something I enjoy anymore." He spoke in Japanese, and looked up as if he could see through the roof of the car. If he could see his best friend. "It's just a means of work to distract me."

His dark eyes met yours. "But at least it'll be with you Hime. So, I get to see a little bit of Hajun. Right Hime?" His voice was cracking and his eyes watering.

That kindness being flooded by something that mirrored your own woes. But never disappearing. No, not fully. Never fully.

Even in the quiet, aching absence of what once was, Haru still radiated a brightness that couldn’t be dimmed. Even with the knowledge of the torment he carried inside, you still selfishly basked in the compassion that encompassed him. His smile would remain as warm as ever, even if there was a subtle shadow behind it, a testament to the internal struggle against the anguish he bore in silence.

He was light. He was good. Too good.

Hajun was good. He was so good. Too good. Too good for whatever this world was.

The fandom had been right to call Hajun and Haru their spring. The love and warmth and peace and life that had radiated from both of them was like an eternal spring. Like the fresh blooming of flowers after the melting of the winter snow.

They were spring.

And Hajun's loss was like the wilting of the first cherry blossoms, their vibrant beauty fading too soon.

A death that left Haru standing alone in a season that would never fully return.

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988 - USA Suicide Prevention Hotline | 24 Hours 111 - Helpline UK | 24 hours 1393 - Suicide Hotline Korea | 24 hours

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maxwapan · 3 months ago

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I don’t want nothing from you at all (Me and you we’re just like glue)

leon s. kennedy x male!reader

word count. 1.3k

cws. incest, dad/son incest, OOC(duh), implied abuse, alcoholism, mutual interest

note. idk i thought this was funny though, any older Leon can be imagined here he’s just like a weird old man idk || title is Glue by P.H.F.

Your dad kisses you on the lips.

It’s not weird or anything, not really.

Well, at least, not to you. He’s been doing it for a while now, so much so that you’ve gotten used to it. It’s always after soccer practice, always after school— always after you’ve been apart for longer than an hour or so. It’s not a cute little peck or anything saccharine like that, it’s a full on tonguing. An exchange of saliva and spit.

It’s embarrassing, sometimes. Especially whenever he does it in plain view, where anyone could see and report the two of you for public indecency or potential incest. Worst of all, he has no fucking shame about it, just does it as if it were as simple as blinking. He doesn’t look away in shame or fluster after he does it, just pats you on the back and asks about your day as if it were nothing, as if he hadn’t just shoved his tongue down your throat.

You’re all sweaty and hot after soccer practice, panting softly as your friend offers you a water bottle. You take it with a grateful smile, popping open the cap with a twist and bringing the top to your lips.

Just as you start to relax though, you spot your dad’s car in the parking lot, tummy coiling with dread. Your Adam’s apple bobs with every eager gulp, the cool liquid doing nothing to ease your nerves or tame them. You space out as you drink, mind running with the many excuses you could use to escape the oncoming embarrassment.

Unfortunately, none of them make sense, and you can barely form a coherent thought with how exhausted you are, too focused on the painful burn in your legs and the icy water against your lips.

“Hey, is that your dad?” Your friend asks, perking up. You feel your heart skip a beat.

A large hand lands on your shoulder before you could notice, squeezing gently.

“Hey boys,” Your dad, Leon, grins widely, showing all his teeth. He has a charming smile, one he always puts on for people he wants to look good for. Like good-looking ladies at the mall or teenage boys that feel uncomfortable around him at the park. He could use some more brushing, in your opinion. “How did practice go? Make any goals?”

Jesus christ, he’s wearing his cop uniform. How embarrassing can he get? He only wears that shit to look cool and intimidating in front of your friends, and it’s so obvious. You caught on immediately whenever he started willingly stepping out of the car to pick you up from hangouts instead of his usual ‘hide and wait’ routine.

You flounder, and luckily your friend answers before you, nodding along to Leon’s words with a cheeky smirk. “Yeah!” He says, “We managed to get some balls in before the other guys we were playing with left.” He puffs his chest out pridefully, chin raised. Man, he’s always sucking up to your dad, but you guess anyone would want to get on the good side of a cop. Especially if he’s your dad.

Leon huffs out a small chuckle at the phrasing, glancing over at you knowingly. You roll your eyes in turn, shrugging lamely. It’s not that funny.

“Well, you know the drill,” Your dad nods towards you, patting your back roughly, “gotta get this one back home. He’s got homework.” You wilt, groaning under your breath. He’s acting so normal that you almost forget about the kiss you’re definitely going to get soon, but then Leon leans towards you, lowering his head.

Your heart lurches and you dodge his lips just in time by turning to look at your friend, heat rising to your face, making you sweat again. “Wait! Uhm, you still up for Sunday?” You smile weakly, hoping to stall. A rough pinch at your hip makes you wince, and you bite your bottom lip to stifle a whimper. Ouch.

Your friend, clueless as always, nods. “Yeah, for sure, man.” It’s only an added minute of distraction, but it works, ‘cause your dad doesn’t try to kiss you again. He’s probably annoyed. Probably giving you a look right now. That disapproving look dads always give.

“See ya,” Is the last thing your friend says before he turns to leave, dirty soccer ball in his hand. That’s when you feel Leon’s hand on you again, rough and calloused, this time on your face, tugging your chin towards him. Your eyes meet his, and your heart starts to race.

“That wasn’t very nice, you know,” Leon chides, a stern look on his face. He looks genuinely upset, as if you had insulted him or something. The thought makes you shudder, a small frown curling your lips. Damn all parents that don’t know they’re being embarrassing.

Dad has always been mellow. Like, he’s there but he’s not at the same time, if that makes any sense. He’s just some dude in your house, you guess. That’s why it’s kinda scary when he gets upset. He gets all weird and tense, starts drinking a whole lot. And you don’t want a repeat of last time he got shit-faced. He hits like a motherfucker.

“Sorry,” You murmur meekly, glancing down at your untied shoes, eyes tracing over the grass stains and the splotches of mud on the front of them. “I got nervous…” Honesty is the best policy, especially with dad. It’s best you play up that pathetic baby boy act with him, cause the moment he feels like you’ve got an attitude he’ll drag you to the car by the ear and’ll have you over his knee with your ass bared by the time you get home.

Leon’s eyes soften, and he buys the act. He’s old, he can’t just assume everyone’s out to get him now. He’s got nothing to his name but some cash and maybe a big dick, and you don’t want either. Not really.

His freehand ghosts over your hip, the same one he pinched before, as if trying to soothe the sting. It’s long gone by now, so there’s nothing to soothe, but you lean into it anyways. He hums, says “give daddy his kiss,” and puckers his lips, making you feel like a small child. Either way, you oblige with a tiny sigh, making sure to glance around first before leaning forward and meeting his lips with your own.

And just like you expected, he quickly takes advantage, slipping his tongue in and thrusting it into your mouth. Moaning softly, your eyes droop, and you start to suckle on the muscle immediately, licking tentatively in return. You’re nervous, tugging at the front of his uniform with your hands.

Worst case scenario: someone recognizes you and calls you out for kissing your dad. Best— albeit embarrassing— case scenario: someone assumes that a random cop has you wrapped around his finger.

Luckily, the field seems to be empty right now.

Leon’s hands grab at the back of your head gently, pushing you forward. A swirl of his tongue, a nip with his teeth, and you start to feel dizzy, leaning forward so much that you would have toppled over if it wasn’t for Leon’s broad chest against yours keeping you steady.

And just like that, he stops, letting go of your hair and stepping back with a pleased smile and a wet smack of his lips, the string of saliva connecting you two snapping in an instant. He pats your back, again, licks his lips clean of your saliva, and then pinches your cheek playfully. “Alright, come on. It’s getting late.”

He doesn’t wait for you to process what just happened, turning to walk towards the car with his hands stuffed into his pant pockets.

You wobble for a second, in a daze. Shaking your head, you start to follow mindlessly, bringing a hand to your face. Your fingers gently graze your lips, and you smile to yourself, butterflies flapping in your tummy.

Calling out to your dad, you pick up pace to try and catch up.

“Can we get pizza?”

#🍰maxwapan #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #using the fact that english isnt my first language as an excuse for this being poorly written #idk there needs to be more dad son incwst methinks #and male reader fics idk

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jesssssssssica · 9 months ago

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'but i love you-' 'so? please let me go' ln4

'but i love you-' 'so? please let me go.'

in which saying 'i love you' to keep a relationship together has been overused.

in which you've had enough

One too many times had you found yourself back in the arms of Lando Norris. The strong comforting arms of Lando Norris that holds you at times of need, became an addicting pull factor of keeping this crumbling relationship together, well that along with his constant throwaway of the words “I love you.”

Words that once held so much adoration and joy in your mind were now the words that were slowly destroying you from the inside out, and yet your weeping heart constantly craved for more, wanting to be with someone that claimed to want you. Of course you’d noticed that these words caused your heart to freeze up, rather than beat faster and yet you still somehow still had this idea that Lando did truly mean these words. Was it delusion to help soothe your already breaking heart or was it just pure insanity? Either way, you received pity from the onlookers that watched in on your relationship, week after week, watching the distance between you two in the pit lane become further and further apart, watching as the man that supposedly loved you, laughed at the unfunny jokes that the models would tell him, watching them place their arms on his arm and stay there as he refused to shove them away.

And yet, you still loved him, because after all he still loved you. Right? Of course he loved you, that’s why he’d say those magic words. He wouldn’t throw those sacred words around, right?

Of course he would.

Lando Norris would only find himself using the words ‘I love you’ at times where he needed to avoid his mistakes being thrown back into his face and to keep you by his side. Of course, at one point those words did truly hold value and meaning to his relationship, but that was a long time ago and the meaning was now washed away, and a new definition for the phrase was made, to keep you. If you were to ask him what the meaning was however, he would proclaim that it means and symbolises his adoration and infatuation with you, and you being none the wiser would further and further into his arms, never wanting to let go and leave this comfort blanket that had been made just for you.

I mean who would want to leave this VERY financially stable man that was able to fill your house with flowers and gifts, constantly flying you around the world with him as he always holds you and reassures you with his ‘love’.

You certainly didn’t want to. For god’s sake you had been with the man since you were 17, having known eachother since you were both 14, and you didn’t know anything about the real world without having Lando by your side. Of course your mother would always offer a place to stay whenever you had one of your rocky moments but that was only for a day or so, now where would you go if you truly were to finally take that leap of faith and leave the one person that was actually holding you back?

But I mean what were you even talking about? Leaving Lando sounded more like a nightmare than a saving grace, I mean leaving the one man that has always been there for you? You’re crazy to think I would eve-

“Y/N! I am baaack” his voice sounded slurred as he shouted into the apartment.

You turn your head from where you sit on the sofa, swirling the glass of wine that you hold in your hand, watching Lando struggle to slip off his trainers, a task he ultimately gives up on, huffing loudly before straggling over to your spot.

“I missed you” he breathes, his breath confirming your thoughts.

‘Great’ you think, ‘Another night of babying him’

You don’t dare try and translate his coherent babbles, watching as he mindlessly talks to the ceiling, waiting for him to slowly sober up, which leads you to getting up and filling him a nice glass full of wa-

“I cheated on you.”

“What?”

“You heard”

You freeze, both out of shock and also out of anger. How could he? A man that she had dedicated 7 years of her life to and yet this is the cause of the end. An easily avoidable action that he seems to have no guilt or sorrow for happening? How could someone that preached to his lover how much he loved them, then proceed to do the complete opposite?

Your brain speaks for your heart in this moment, sacrificing your feelings for the next couple of months for your sanity, putting down the glass and heading down to your shared bedroom without saying a word, pulling out a suitcase and packing what you needed most, you could leave behind items, that would be his problem as you would not be coming back. You grab what little trinkets you have that don’t remind you of him and start to leave for the front dorm when you are stopped by him.

It’s only now do you take in the intoxicated state that he was in, though you’re pretty sure that by now he’s sobered up, messy hair that seems to poke out at every angle, definitely having felt the fingers of many a woman comb through it. You also notice the slight rouge colour that’s been attempted to have been smeared off, a clear sign at the man’s infidelity. It’s pathetic really, that you had once been enamoured with the man that stands in front of you but now here you are, leaving behind the one thing that has held you back this whole time. You don’t know where you’ll go but anywhere is better than this place that you once thought was the place you’d grow old with each other in, but that was before you truly woke up. Sometimes it’s best to leave things in the past and Lando Norris is a great example of this, though you’ll never forget when it was real, when you were both happy.

Maybe it was meant to be at a time but it wasn’t meant forever.

“Where are you going?” His voice snaps you out of your monologue that you preach in your head.

“I’m leaving and I am not coming back.”

At first he thinks you're joking but the strong demeanour you hold on your face shows that you are doing anything but.

“B-but I love you y/n.”

You scoff.

“So? Please let me go Lando.” You say, voice laced with desperation.

So he does, he lets you go and you don’t dare look back.

#f1 imagine #f1 imagines #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 imagine #lando norris imagine #lando norris angst

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kydrogendragon · 10 months ago

Note

I saw your birthday post and had an idea. It's comics canon Dream gets obsessive over his romantic partners, but... But! I wanna see that kind of obsessive devotion showered on his friend. His friend who waited and procured a new meeting place. No romance, no sex though QPR levels of skinship would be nice. I could see them both being different levels of touch starved. I would love to see 0 to 100 levels of friendship. Dream should get the chance with Hob who has already shown such loyalty.

We got our fifth post for the day!!

Ohhhh I loved this promp, thought! Honestly, this deserves it's own full length character study-type fic cause there's so much you can do with it here. I tried my best to fit bits in in a coherent manner and tried my best to show that obsession and devotion without it feeling like it dove too close to the "romance" track.

Thank you so much, anon! Hope you enjoy!

Relationship: Hob & Dream Words: 4141 Warnings: None Ao3 Link

The first time that Dream met with Hob Gadling after escaping Fawney Rig and restoring his realm, he had expected a great many things. What he hadn’t expected was for the White Horse to have been demolished and for his friend to create a new meeting place for them. The words The New Inn hung proudly against the brick building and a sense of warmth emanated from it in a way Dream had not experienced in many years.

Hob Gadling greeted him with a smile. Dream shouldn’t be surprised by this. The man was a well of optimism and joy. He has always looked upon life with a sense of wonder and excitement that Dream could hardly fathom. He should not be surprised his arrival was treated with that same level of happiness.

Still, he was surprised nonetheless.

They had talked well into the night, far past the normal operating hours of the establishment, but it did not matter when Hob owned the place. Being here with Hob, simply talking and listening to the mundane stories of his life, brought a peace to Dream. It was a comfort to simply be in a way he has not known how. When he was imprisoned, even then he had not simply existed. He was far into his mind, constantly staking out any weaknesses in their defenses or gaps in their bindings. Even when he had not moved in over a hundred years, Dream had not known rest.

But here was different. In these walls, rebuilt and lovingly fashioned with friendly intents and hopes, and with Hob’s cheerful baritone voice washing over him, Dream could finally relax. It was a strange sensation, one he fought initially, but sometime, after most patrons eased out and it was just the two of them, Dream managed to let the tension in his shoulders drop.

Then, Hob had invited him back. He had said Dream was welcome to visit anytime. Didn’t matter when, he was welcome. It was an offer he had never received before. A standing invite, one that Dream well knew Hob meant with all his heart, was a rare thing to be extended to anyone, let alone an Endless. And yet, the impossible immortal did so anyways.

Which is why Dream is currently sitting on Hob Gadling’s couch in the dark.

He had shown up to his flat the next day. Repairs in the Dreaming were progressing and, if Dream is being honest, he missed the sense of comfort he got from being near his friend (a friend. He did not have friends. And yet, he now has one.) Dream had failed to account for his work schedule, however, and upon arriving in Hob’s living room, found the place empty. It was no matter. Hob had told him he was welcome at anytime. He could wait.

Dream had explored the living room, trailing a finger across book titles and picture frames, ghosting touches over ancient artifacts with stories so embedded within, it made Dream smile. He brushed against the daydreams of sunlight and warmth from the plants upon his window ledges and, when the sun began to tilt down, heading for the horizon, Dream plucked a book from the expansive selection of Hob’s personal library and began to read.

He had lounged upon the plush fabric couch, his boots fading to sand as he tucked his legs underneath him. The book in had was an original print, well loved and well worn. The pages still carried with them the dreams of the author, though faint. It had also been many years since Dream had simply taken the time to read a book himself. Yes, the knowledge, the story told, it lay inside him, but the act of turning each page, of reading each word, there was something also calming about it.

Dream was nearly finished when Hob Gadling finally arrives.

The door creaks open into the darkness that’s settled into the room. There is a faint glow from the streetlights outside. Dream watches as his friend shuffles his bag off of his shoulder as he closes the door behind him. He tosses his keys on the counter beside him and sighs. “Ah, Christ,” his friend mutters, slinging the bag onto the counter as well. He looks up. Then he screams.

Dream blinks.

“Jesus, fuck! Dream?” Hob cries, stumbling backwards into his front door, one hand raised out, as if prepared to defend himself.

“Hello, Hob.”

His friends sighs and visibly sags. Dream frowns. Perhaps the invitation had not been made genuinely. Perhaps he should leave-

“Christ, you scared me, my friend,” Hob says, chuckling to himself. “Are those... do you have cat eyes?”

Dream blinks again. “Cat eyes?”

“Yeah, s’what scared me half to death. Two beady little eyes staring up at me in the darkness.”

“Ah,” Dream says, closing the cover of the book in his hands and setting it on the coffee table in front of him. “They are stars that you are seeing. They are not cat eyes.”

As Dream’s gaze lifts back to his friends, he sees Hob just staring at him, mouth slightly agape. “Right. Stars.” He says. Hob takes a steadying breath before nodding. “Sure. Star eyes. Why not.” Dream follows Hob’s movements as he makes his way to the kitchen and flicks on the soft under cabinet lighting. It brightens the room, but not considerably. The soft glow is comforting, almost. “Tea?”

Dream nods as he stands. He makes his way to the other side of the counter, watching Hob go through the motions of preparing two cups of tea. He pulls down a pair of novelty mugs, chuckling to himself as he reaches for the black mug peppered with small stars. He looks over to Dream with a smirk. “Star mug for Mr. Star-Eyes.”

It is after they had drank their tea on the comfort of Hob’s couch in the darkness and when Hob’s foot taps against his leg with a smile at a joke he cracks that Dream begins to realize that he cares quite deeply for this man that he calls friend.

It is a month later when Dream returns to the New Inn. It is not his third visit, but rather his tenth, though this one is special. He had brought with him a gift. It is customary, he has found, to give gifts to ones friends. And, Dream finds, he wishes to. Hob Gadling, who waited, who was loyal. Who stayed here, knowing Dream would return eventually when he had given him every reason to believe otherwise. He showed a level of faith he’d seen only in one other - Lucienne. And she had been his Raven, his first. How better to reward, to thank, such faith, such loyalty, than with a gift, spun from dreamstuff by his own hand?

The fine metal bracelet rests in his coat pocket. It it warm against him, thrumming with his own power and vibrates, perhaps a bit too excitedly, against his hand, eager to fulfill it’s function. Dream steps into the building that has become as close to a home in the Waking as Dream could ever know. Hob sits at their usual table, engrossed in his laptop. He walks forward, pulling his usual seat out, and sits as Hob looks up and greets him with that familiar smile.

“Well, hello there, my friend!” Hob says, closing the top of his laptop. He crosses his arm atop it. “How are you doing?”

“I am well. Yourself?”

Hob smiles and dives into their usual routine. He talks of work and his students, he talks of the staff and the customers. He talks of the frustrations with the Dean and the lack of support for a new course he wishes to teach. Dream makes a mental note of this. But most importantly, he talks of himself, of his latest botched cooking attempt and his struggles with keeping his newest plant alive.

As the conversation naturally ebbs, Dream speaks. “I have a gift for you.” Hob’s eyes widen comically.

“A gift? For me?”

Dream nods and reaches into his coat pocket. The thin gold metal band shines in the overhead lighting. It is simple in design, though the underside of the band contains script of a language few speak any longer, though Hob was borne into. The Middle English reads, “Min Gadling”. He holds it out on his palm in front of Hob.

His friend looks between him and the bracelet, shock and confusion on his face, but reaches forward, slowly, and plucks the metal from his hand. Dream sighs, his hand retreating, as the dreamstuff hums in Hob’s hold. He examines it, turning it in his hands, when his eyes finally spot the text. He inhales sharply as his eyes dart up to Dream.

It is in this moment that Dream realizes, perhaps, this gift is too much. When he’d broached the topic to Matthew, his raven had ensured him that gifts between friends were fine, though the examples given were often food or small tokens. This, he realizes, may not qualify as appropriate gifts.

Dream tenses, his mind already spinning tales of possible ends, most of which involve Hob revoking his offers of friendship, of visitation permission. Even in friendship, it seems, he is too much. Then Hob speaks.

“You know, my last name apparently means companion or comrade.” He smiles. Dream lets out a breath.

“It can also mean rogue,” he replies, allowing a small smile to grace his face in return.

Hob chuckles. “Yeah, pretty sure that’s what mine was meant to mean.” He looks back down at the bracelet, fondness in his eyes. “Thank you for this. It means a lot. Truly. I don’t have much with my true name on it these days. It’ll be nice to have something always on me to remind me where I came from. How far I’ve come.” His eyes lift, meeting Dream’s. “The friends I’ve made along the way.”

Hob fiddles with the metal in his hands, his brows furrowing as his eyes dart across Dream’s face. “Not that I’m not grateful. I am. Completely! And I love it and will always happily accept any gifts, but… why?”

“I-” Dream starts, letting his eyes fall to the table between them. The truth? Dream wished to bestow upon Hob all that he could offer for everything Hob has given him. He wished to thank him for his friendship, for his stories and companionship. He wished to offer him but a paltry piece of the debt he has piled himself with off of Hob Gadling's kindness. He wished to see Hob wear that which marks him as his, as his friend, his one and only. Dream only knew intensity. His lover often complained of such, but change does not come easy to Dream. And in friendship, it seems, he is no different.

“Friendship bracelets, I’ve been told, are common in this century, are they not?” It is far from the truth, though it was the inspiration for the gift’s form.

“Well, yeah,” Hob chuckles, finally sliding the bracelet over his hand. It shrinks, fitting his wrist perfectly. His friend’s mouth drops as he stares at the metal. “I- did that just shrink?”

“Yes,” Dream replies. “It will adjust to whatever size you desire.”

Hob runs a hand through his hair, his eyes glued to his wrist. “I’ll never get over just how incredible you are, you know that?” Dream smiles, preening under the praise. Hob shakes his head and manages to tear his eyes away and turn back to Dream. “Anyways, yes, friendship bracelets are a thing, but they’re usually small things made of twine or colored yarns, not decorative metals with fancy scripts and fancy magics. Besides, usually friendship bracelets have a twin. One for each of us.”

“Oh?” He has made an error, it seems. One that can be resolved quickly. He moves, readying to whirl in a matching bracelet for himself when Hob speaks again.

“But! Key part- I have to make yours. Just, you know, don’t expect anything as fancy as this, yeah?” He says, waggling his wrist just above the table with a grin.

Ah. The act of the creation is as important to the function as the bracelet itself. “I look forward to the fruits of your labor then, Hob Gadling.”

If the Dean suddenly wakes up with an overwhelming nagging feeling to greenlight Hob’s proposed class the next morning, who’s to say?

The first time Hob truly touches him, Dream stiffens. They are out visiting the newest exhibit at the Natural History museum. Hob was staring up at a wall-sized painting of a Titanosaur, the largest dinosaur, according to the various placards in the room. Dream had been talking to the inaccuracies of the painting, noting a distinct lack of fur and a poor distribution of fat when a large school group makes their way through the smaller hallway they are standing in.

The hoard of teenage youth slide through, jovial and pointing at various pieces of arts and relics as they pass. Hob reaches out, a hand resting on Dream’s back as he guides the pair of them a few steps closer, making room for those walking by. His touch is warm and melts into his core like honey-sweet syrup. The sensation is so startling, Dream simply… goes. He follows Hob’s hand and allows his friend to move him. Then, he returns his hand to his side.

Dream, on principle, does not allow touch, not unless he wishes. And he most certainly does not allow for people to move him. But, he finds, his mind allows both of these to Hob Gadling, even if he had not consciously made the choice. It is a strange realization, learning the allowances he would have for his friend. The worst is Hob seems oblivious to the inner turmoil occurring in Dream.

The strangest, he supposes, his how a part of his wishes to list into his friend, into his warmth again. It has been mere minutes, yet he is left wanting for the feeling. He looks down, his eyes drifting beside the nameplate to the right of the large work of art as Hob’s voice washes over him again, talking of archeology and his desires to “give it a shot, one of these lives.” Perhaps, Dream thinks to himself, he has been without touch for far too long.

The second time Hob touches him, Dream had initiated it. Well, more than he had the last time, at least. They are in his flat, this time, resting on the couch, watching a movie Hob had insisted upon. It is evening in London. A few boxes of Thai takeout rest on the coffee table beside a plate of biscuits Hob had made just for Dream after learning his preference of the sweet things. He has a blanket draped over his form, another insistence from Hob. He claimed movies were always better when bundled up, then accused him of always looking cold.

Dream had been unable to argue against him. He was always cold. It lingered on the edges of his form. The memory of cool, unforgiving glass pressed against his skin, chilling him to his core. Though, Dream is certain he has been cold for longer than that. But with Hob, in his flat, under a well-loved blanket that feels and smells of his friend, Dream finally feels almost warm.

Hob sits beside him, still upright, still near, as he works through the last few bites of his Pad Thai. Dream could shift his foot just slightly and rest it against Hob’s thigh if he so wished. So he did. The slight curve of his foot melds into the soft give of his warm flesh, covered as it is by corduroy. Hob tilts his head back and to the side, eyes looking at Dream with a question in his brow.

He stares at the television, refusing to meet Hob’s gaze. It was an ask, nonverbal as it was. He did not wish to see the rejection should it come. But it didn’t. Instead, he felt Hob shift, setting down the now empty takeout container on the table and shifts, letting his arm drape over the back of the couch as he presses back against Dream’s foot. When he finally glances over at Hob, he’s met with a gentle smile before those warm brown eyes turn back to the movie.

If Dream rested his head against the back of the couch, just beside Hob’s hand, and if he let his eyes fall closed as fingers carded through his hair, he would never say.

“Hey! I was hoping I might see you today,” Hob called from his usual spot in the New Inn. Dream made his way over to the seat across the table and looks at him with a confused frown.

“Is something the matter?” Was he in trouble? Or perhaps Hob was finally shifting from this current life to the next one. He had talked with Dream about running out of life left in this place after all.

“No, nothing bad, don’t worry.” Hob said with a smile. He turns, digging through the bag to his right. He exclaims in joy as he pulls forth from the depths of his bag a small paper box. Sliding it across the table, he looks up, excitement in his eyes.

Dream reaches down, plucking the small, light-weight box from the table. Already, he can feel the daydreams that waft through the box from the object inside. Tales of friendship and hope, of care and consideration flow through. Most importantly, though, is how he is the focus of all these daydreams. When he removes the lid and sees the delicate black leather cuff inside, he knows exactly what it is.

“The twin to your friendship bracelet, yes?” Dream asks, taking the leather cuff in his own hands. It is thinner than many cuffs. Perhaps two fingers wide, but the face is decorated, stamped with care, with trailing vines and images of birds - ravens, he suspects - in flight. It is not perfect. There are imperfections in the stamping, shadows of a second press just slightly misaligned from the first. The stitches are mostly even, though there are spots, Dream notices as he rubs his thumb over the edges, that are off– a little too close to the edge, a little too far from it.

It is imperfectly perfect. It is human and hand-made. Dream would not have it any other way.

Hob nods, speaking as Dream slowly buttons the leather cuff around his wrist, letting the softness of the well-worked leather cement him more firmly into this form. “Yeah, took forever trying to think of what would match your all black ensemble. Figured a dark stained leather would be a safe bet. Plus I’m shit at weaving.” He smiles, watching Dream’s deft fingers finish securing the leather around his wrist. Dream turns his wrist, watching the light cast shadows in the small indents of the hide.

He has not been gifted things often. Less so is he gifted things with the sole intent of giving him something without wanting something in return. He is also nearly certain that this is the first time he has been given something with the intent to match, so that they each hold claim over the other. Dream shivers at the thought. Hob had eagerly accepted his gift, his mark, and that alone had been a heady thing. This? Having Hob Gadling's mark upon him? Having the spoils of his work and effort, all done solely for him, so that they’d “match”?

There are tears in his eyes. Hob’s face falls into one of concern. “Hey, you okay? Is it too much?” He asks, resting his hands, palms up, on the table in front of Dream. An offer of comfort, if needed. Hob has always been considerate in this regard since that movie night in his flat. The offer of touch has become an open one, though gestures such as this make accepting it all the easier.

Dream rests his hand, the one bearing the black leather, on top of Hob’s own. Warm fingers wrap around him instantly, giving him a gentle squeeze. “No,” Dream manages, tearing his eyes away from their hands and up to his friend’s face. “It is perfect. Thank you, my dear friend.”

And Hob smiles. “Anytime.”

It has been well over a year since Dream returned to the Waking, since first returned to Hob Gadling. He has just arrived for their newest tradition: Monday Movie Nights. Matthew rests on his shoulder as he stands outside the door to Hob’s flat, a bottle of wine plucked from his own dreams along with the venison pasties he had so wished for Dream to try back at their 1589 meeting.

Hob opens the door with a wide smile and ushers them both in, taking the food and drink from Dream’s hands with a fond chuckle. “Grab these from a dream, did you?” Hob asks, setting both offerings on the coffee table next to the fish and chips and the plate of biscuits. There’s also a small bowl on the table beside the chair that Matthew has taken to resting in full of different seed. “Can’t imagine you slaving away in a kitchen.”

“Ha!” Matthew cries, flying from Dream’s shoulder over to the chair’s armrest. “Now that’s something I’d pay to see.” His raven cranes his neck up, watching as Hob uncorks the wine and pours them both a glass. “Can you even cook? Like, I know you don’t usually eat, so you probably don’t really need to cook. And you could probably just… magic up food if you really wanted it.”

Dream sits on the edge of the couch, waiting for Hob to take his usual spot before getting comfortable. He whisks away his boots and coat with a thought, letting them fall into sand, disappearing before hitting the ground. “I contain the collective subconscious, Matthew. I could cook if I desired to.” He takes the offered wine glass in hand. Hob nabs the remote from the table and falls back into the plush cushions. He wears his usual lounge wear, the cuffs of his joggers riding up his legs slightly. He leans back, his spine pressed into the soft curve of the edge of the back cushion as it flows into the armrest. Dream scooches himself closer, letting his back fall against his friend’s chest as he settles himself between his legs.

He has found, after a night spent in tears in Hob Gadling’s arm after telling him the tale of Fawney Rig, of cold glass and dried blood, that he feels calmer than ever when enveloped in his warmth. So, when the situation allows, Dream lets himself be draped in Hob’s arms and enjoys the solidity he finds in the touch and the warmth. Hob has since admitted, during one of their previous movie nights, that he is happy Dream enjoys these moments, that he’s missed being able to hold someone close like this.

Dream had been surprised at the time. Hob was always a touchy person, based on his interactions with others, though after the many many months together, he’s found that while Hob may have other friends and expresses his affections through hugs and touch and friendly slaps on the back, he misses this. He lacks the skinship they have with each other here. Human society may be getting better at allowing such gestures among friends, “cuddling with the homies” as Matthew had so gracefully put it, was still not widely accepted. But they had each other. And that was enough.

Hob’s arm wraps around his center, holding him close, his other sets his glass down on the side table next to Matthew’s seed. He hits play on the remote and retrieves his glass again, giving it a gentle tap to the edge of Dream’s own. He smiles, tilting his head against Hob’s shoulder.

The movie plays. Dream snacks on the freshly baked biscuits and even tries one of the venison pasties, much to Hob’s delight. He will admit, they were quite tasty. Hob, himself, works a steady pace through their acquired snacks and drink and sighs contentedly when he sets down his emptied glass of wine. He and Matthew chat, commenting on the film and it’s poor special effects work while Dream listens. The fireplace below the television crackles gently.

Dream smiles, closing his eyes as he lets his mind focus on the friendly chatter, the warmth of Hob’s body against his own, and the the feeling of happiness that starts to stir inside of him. He must thank his sister one day for bringing Hob Gadling into his life. Dream doesn’t know what he would have done without him.

#dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #the sandman #ky writes #Kydrogen's Birthday Prompts

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qaze · 1 month ago

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“Head empty, no thoughts” “many thoughts, head full” give me my “head empty, many thoughts” personalities. Too many thoughts yet your head is so empty that none of the thoughts can become coherent

#it’s me #head empty #thoughts? many #i have thoughts #so many thoughts #qaze says stuff #many many thoughts #all of the time

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eggybug · 4 months ago

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we're at the end of season 5 and i have thoughts:

1. i must have been damn blind the first time i watched supernatural because destiel was screaming in my face the whole time this season

2. i feel kinda bad for adam if im being honest, he didn't deserve what happened to him

3. chuck being chuck being chuck being god is SO annoying

4. i love gabriel with everything in me and thats the whole thought

5. BOBBY!!!!!

6. CROWLEY!!!!

7. the first appearance of "moose" and its thrilling!

8. JODY MILLS my favorite hunter

9. rip jo and ellen you will be missed

10. does anyone else think its fucked up they can never have two women hunter mains at the same time until like season 10

11. castiel is literally so babygirl but in the opposite way as dean and i love them both so much

12. speaking of cas, his journey through faith in god and in dean is so insane. i could write sonnets about it.

13. im so glad this is the last season that sam drunks blood in (i think)

14. let's talk about death (this will be a post all on its own dw)

15. dean is always so worried about cas, especially post losing his angel mojo and its killing me

16. these two self-sacrificing sons of bitches are the WORST

17. i think we need to talk more about the fact that dean views his time in hell like a full on soldier

18. i have SO many thoughts about the boys' time in heaven and none of them are coherent

19. bobby is the best dad in the world and it sucks that he has to keep watching those dumbass boys keep trying to kill themselves

20. i don't think cas and sam ever fully like each other and i do love that

21. i can't wait for the episode from baby's perspective

22. those boys wouldn't know subtle if it knocked them in the head

23. before long i will be making more insane comparisons between cain and abel and i want to hear nothing of it

24. can't have SHIT in detroit

25. i do feel bad for sam at the end of the day

26. it is a temper tantrum lucifer, dude you can't deny it anymore

i think that's it for now

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #destiel #season 5

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elvenbeard · 5 months ago

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Makes me Feel Better

Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfic

Summary: After a truly horrendous week and tying off some loose ends, V and Kerry finally get some well-deserved downtime, including a heart-to-heart, good (and better) music, and some unexpected familiar faces showing up. (Post-Sun-Ending, mostly canon-compliant, Chapter 15/?, 8923 words, Kerry Eurodyne/V - notes at the end) >> Previous Chapter >> Read from the Beginning

The next two days were a blur. Tests and preparation, complicated diagnostics and elaborate research and planning blended the Med Center’s sterile brightness and the Afterlife’s noise and shady corners into an indistinguishable mess. Every second waiting for scans to complete V spent reading through dossiers and texting back and forth with Rogue. Between talks with clients and crews he slipped away into the bathroom for a minute to down the whole new array of meds Fuentes had prescribed him – right between all those wanna-be-mercs taking a piss and bragging about how they’d be the next Afterlife legend. V just stared his tired reflection in the eyes, harrow like a skull in the pale green light and listened to them, trying not to burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all.

The rapid whirr of the tiny electric saw chewing into his cast clashed with the bright white examination room this Friday afternoon. With a soft “click” it clipped through the last remaining connection that had kept his wrist restrained.

“There you go,” Jayda smiled, the medtech that had been taking care of him immediately after his accident as well. She pulled the cast away and V sighed with relief at being able to have his full range of motion back in his left hand. He wiggled his fingers and carefully tested if everything still moved as it should after being locked into place for a week, popped his personal link out and back in to make sure it was intact.

“Feels good, right?” Jayda said with amusement as she tossed the remains of the cast into a trashcan.

“That’s an understatement,” V said dryly.

“Just take it slow for a bit still,” she urged, “The nanites and meds did their job, but even so, it’s still a relatively fresh injury.”

V nodded.

“What about driving?” he then asked, “Riding my motorbike?”

Jayda raised her eyebrows.

“Only if you promise to not end up here again anytime soon,” she said with a wink and picked up her datapad, “Now all you gotta do is sign here and you’re good to go.”

“Thanks,” V said on the way out, glad that at least today’s stay at the Med Center had been a short one. He had worked his way through all his scheduled meetings at the Afterlife already, too. Simultaneously stoked yet also terrified of his further plans for the day, or rather, the night, he went on his way home.

Meanwhile, Kerry paid Lee a visit at his office. Locking the door behind him while saying “Payday’s here, Lee,” turned out to be immensely effective in reminding Lee who had the upper hand in this game now.

“K-Kerry! Listen! I told no-one anything!” Lee instantly started bumbling and sprung up from his office chair. He almost knocked over a showcase displaying awards won by talented artists that Lee hadn’t even met in person before, Kerry was pretty sure. Then he stumbled backwards against the window, a thin panel of smartglass separating him from a 30-story-fall into one of Charter Hills’s busiest shopping areas. He raised his hands in defense and whimpered, all the while Kerry still had only just set a foot into the room.

This was Kovachek’s old office, and admittedly, that was one of the main reasons Kerry still avoided it like the plague. Too many bad memories of that motherfucker going on and on and on until Kerry didn’t have any coherent thoughts left in his head anymore. Even worse that Lee hadn’t changed the place up much, either – to Kerry’s disappointment but also none of his surprise.

The wall to the right was covered in platinum records, most of them Kerry’s, as well as the aforementioned display cases, three in a row. In front of them, facing into the room, stood the pretentious black marble desk with two armchairs for visitors. The left half of the office consisted mainly of a seating area with sleek but uncomfortable-as-a-pile-of-bricks sofas, as well as a small bar including a mini fridge. And, of course, more shelves displaying awards, framed posters, or special records that Lee had no personal connection to.

Kerry slowly walked over to the desk and shoved the two chairs out of the way. He leaned against the desk and crossed his arms, never breaking eye contact with Lee, who was sweating blood.

“Told ya you owe me for the shit with V’s pills, motherfucker,” he said, calm but stern, “And you’re gonna do exactly what I tell ya. Got it?”

Lee just nodded but didn’t move away from his spot by the window, nor did he lower his hands. Kerry scrunched his nose in annoyance.

“C’mon, sit your ass down and take notes, I’m not gonna explain this shit twice!”

Lee just nodded and stumbled back behind his desk while Kerry flopped into one of the two armchairs, fingers interlocked across his chest, one leg dangling over the armrest. Then he began to recount what he and V had discussed the previous night, making sure Lee took note of every detail, every step of the plan.

Kerry had no doubt that it would all work out. What tied his stomach into a knot though was handing so much responsibility to Lee.

“All clear?” Kerry asked at the end of his instructions. Lee was as white as a sheet, hunched over his computer as he read through his notes.

“Y-yeah… Yeah, understood.”

“Nova… then get your ass to work. V’s gonna send you all the deets you still need in a few,” he said and got up to go back to the door, “Goes without saying that you’re not gonna talk to anyone but him or me about this?”

Lee nodded hesitantly.

“What if…” he whimpered, looking back and forth between Kerry and his screen, “What if some of these things like… the contracts… what if I run into trouble with that?”

“Well, first of all… ya better don’t,” Kerry threatened, pointing a finger at Lee, “But if there is anything goin’ not as planned, you fuckin’ call me immediately. Time to show MSM that they’re just as useless without me as I’d be without ‘em.”

The last sentence he only muttered, more to himself than at Lee. But with that he unlocked the door, walked out the office, out the building as fast as he could, couldn’t wait to be back home where V likely already waited for him.

“Babe, I’m home!” Kerry called with a singsong voice as he exited the elevator and stepped into their kitchen a short while later. No response. He shivered and the good mood he had hyped himself up to all the way here dwindled.

“Vince?”

Then Nibbles perked up on the sofa and caught Kerry’s attention, big greyish pink ears pointed in his direction. She yawned and stretched, jumped down and jogged towards him with a purry meow. But Kerry’s eyes remained glued to the sofa, where V laid curled up on his side, the cat cuddled up against him until now it seemed. Kerry managed to resist the urge to sprint towards him to check on him just long enough for V to sleepily lift his head, muttering a weak “Hey! Sorry, dozed off”.

Kerry took a shaky but relieved breath.

“You good?” he called over, still worried, and placed the two cups of coffee he’d gotten on the road on the kitchen counter. Nibbles meanwhile briefly rubbed against his legs before trailing off to her bowl. Kerry took the chance to walk over to V who stretched and groaned but didn’t get up yet.

“Yeah… relatively speakin’ at least,” he said. He had turned on his back now, rubbed his eyes, and Kerry squeezed onto the sofa next to his legs.

“Headache again?” he asked carefully, reaching out to take V’s hand, delighted briefly when he noticed that the cast was gone.

“Oh, fuckin’ finally,” he laughed, entangling their fingers. V also chuckled, blinking at Kerry as if he was blinded. He didn’t look like he just woke up from a nap, more like he hadn’t slept in three days.

“You sure you’re good?” Kerry asked once more.

“Yeah, just the meds I think,” V said and slowly sat up now, almost as if trying to prove his point, “The anti-seizure ones have ‘tiredness’, ‘exhaustion’ and so on listed as common side effects. Just wanted to close my eyes for five minutes, and that turned into… almost two hours, fuck…”

He shifted around, let go of Kerry’s hand, but was too wobbly on his feet still to get up immediately.

“Woah there, easy, we still got time,” Kerry said, “Literally just got home, too. Lee’s dumb as fuck and I had to explain everythin’ twice, told ya.”

V let out one brief, hoarse laugh, but at least he let Kerry coerce him into staying on the sofa a little while longer.

“You think he’ll manage?”

“He’s literally a fuckin’ manager, so he better,” Kerry couldn’t resist and V snorted.

“New level of dad joke reached.”

Kerry gently nudged him with his elbow, eliciting a cute little grin and teasing side-eye out of V.

“Nah, but in all seriousness,” he then said, “Your plan’s pretty fuckin’ amazing, for how quickly you came up with it. Not even Lee could mess it up.”

“We came up with it,” V corrected him, “Was your idea in the first place. And you got all the inside knowledge and connections.”

“That’s why we make such a good team,” Kerry grinned, trying to catch V’s gaze, but he still seemed a little absent, looking out the window at the slowly setting sun.

“Mh-hm, yeah we do,” he said, then closed his eyes again, almost as if he was ready to fall asleep once more.

“Alright,” Kerry said, and gave V a quick kiss on the cheek to keep him alert, “Go team! Ya ready for tonight?”

“Hell yeah,” V said still tired but opened his eyes again, and Kerry helped him up from the sofa to head upstairs. Time they got ready to party.

V wore his hair differently than what Kerry was used to that evening. Slicked back and neat. His smudged eyeliner was dialed back a notch as well. Now more than ever he looked like in the photos from a few years ago that Kerry had seen, of Arasaka functions and parties. Only that V’s hair was more colorful now and his choice of clothing reflected his personality so much more than just a sleek black and red suit. In the AV that took them to the release party for Kerry’s first single in a much longer time than what he’d like to admit, V quickly sent the last messages and instructions for the day, including the intel for Lee. While he was occupied with that, instead of looking out the window across the sprawling cityscape, Kerry only had eyes for V. He wore a golden yellow shirt with an intricate, dark-blue pattern resembling suns. He had it buttoned up only halfway, so his chest tattoo of stylized wings peeked out, almost appeared like a bird flying against the sunset. Or an angel. Or Icarus. On the seat beside him rested a sleek dark purple blazer, and he wore the matching pants, dark blue shoes with gold details rounding off the look. Kerry had never noticed the shirt nor the suit before and wondered if V bought both at some point in the last few days specifically for the party. Then again, he never missed a chance to dress up nicely like this, as chances to do so were rare. Their sense of style clearly distinguished them, but Kerry endeared it so much. His own outfit was almost casual in comparison to V. He hadn’t put a lot of thought into styling his hair or accessories any differently than usual. He wore a button-down shirt, yes, but fully unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up. It was plain black, like his pants, which were fancy for his standards but nothing too formal. He wanted to continue to feel like himself still, not like he was wearing a costume for an over-the-top video shoot or stadium show.

“Alright, all done,” V announced, his Kiroshis returned to their amber brown color with the transmission complete, and he turned towards Kerry and smiled.

“What?” he asked after a moment of Kerry just staring at him.

“Nothin’,” Kerry replied, “Just… really happy right now. That you’re comin’ and all.”

V continued to smile, but the longer and closer Kerry looked, the more he felt like something was off.

“You still wanna come, right?”

“I do!” V said without hesitation, cupping Kerry’s cheek briefly before slumping back into his seat again, “I guess I’m… really just a bit nervous. Excited, but nervous.”

“Aww,” Kerry put his arm around V’s shoulder to pull him closer, “Rare to see ya nervous. But don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

“Hah, ‘n here I thought plan B was me playing your bodyguard, not the other way around,” V sneered and Kerry shut him up with a kiss.

“Not today.”

Their gaze drifted out the window, Charter Hill wasn’t far anymore. They zoomed past neon high-rises as if they had the sky to themselves tonight.

“Y’know,” Kerry said quietly, “I always really hated goin’ to these kinds of parties.”

“The king of NC’s nightlife? Not a fan of fancy all-inclusive parties?” V teased, resting his head on Kerry’s shoulder. Kerry held him even closer.

“Listen, goin’ to a club to get high and go hog wild is somethin’ different…”

“Don’t need to tell me about that,” V smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in his voice. Reminded of a time probably in which “going hog wild” every night was the only way he still felt alive. Could feel something at all still. And if Kerry didn’t relate to that.

“What I’m sayin’ is,” he continued, “Going to industry parties was always different, ‘cause there’s no choice. Everyone’s expecting you to mingle, be nice and a good advertisement for the label. A reminder that all the glamor and crap is gonna be over with the snap of some executive asshole’s fingers if you don’t do exactly as you’re told, grin and bear it.”

“Yeah, makes sense,” V said, “Felt a lot like that when I went out with my coworkers at Arasaka. You played nice and all, had a good time with them, celebrated how you’d all collectively ruined some poor assholes’ lives again somewhere on the other side of the planet. And at the same time, it always felt like there were knives behind their teeth, ready to stab you in the back to elevate their own position. Not even excluding myself from that. It’s just how it works in that world.”

“Wow,” Kerry said after a short pause, “That sounds even more depressing actually.”

V snickered and nudged his side.

“Ass.”

“Corp-ass.”

“Wow, night only just started and you’re going below the belt already,” V finally laughed and that was all that Kerry had needed to be sure he was truly on board and not too tense to still be able to enjoy himself at the party. He more than deserved some proper downtime, they both did.

The AV slowed down, circling the rooftop of the MSM studio building, waiting for clearance to land. It had been sent and paid for by MSM, so security was no issue at least.

“The plus-side of these parties though…” Kerry said as they descended, and V was finally able to get a good first glimpse and impression of the already bustling event. This was also the first time he actually saw the bar area in use, a crowd forming around the bartenders flinging drinks and bottles. There was a round DJ booth with virtual dancers at the center of the rooftop, the dancefloor surrounding it. The door to the stairwell that led down to the recording booths was hidden behind decorative black and golden tarps showcasing the MSM logo, and on one side of the venue a huge screen had been set up, currently showing a loop of footage from Kerry’s past tours and old music videos. That at least made it very clear who the party was for.

“… the food is actually quite good, the booze is free, and you can be sure at least half of the people don’t wanna be there either and are ready to fuck shit up if given the chance.”

The AV landed softly, and the door slid open, V and Kerry greeted by blue and golden party lights and booming music. Kerry, who sat on the left and was closer to the door, got up first while V quickly slipped on his blazer.

“Wanna be my partner in crime tonight?” Kerry asked with a big smile, put on his sunglasses, and held out his hand.

“Always,” V grinned and took it, his heart close to bursting. They’d never been anywhere together like this, never this publicly, never so many strangers that might or might not draw conclusions, see connections, tell wrong things to the wrong people. Or maybe it would not matter or affect anything at all. That’s what he tried to continue to tell himself when he sat a shaky foot onto the black and gold carpet rolled out for them. The rooftop lounge wasn’t small, but not sprawling either, and so the landing pad was already framed by other guests curiously turning their heads. Kerry had explained that they’d likely be some of the last to arrive, so there would already be a crowd waiting to cheer and welcome them – or rather, Kerry – as the main act of the night. It was never a good sign, he'd said, to be among the first at an industry party. Then you’d be considered only part of the décor, replaceable.

V was torn between clutching Kerry’s hand even tighter or just letting go and hiding in his shadow as he led the way down the carpet towards the now cheering and applauding crowd. But Kerry made the choice for him as he held on tight, making sure he was right there by his side for everyone to see.

“Kerry, so glad to have you here,” and older, dark-skinned man – definitely not older than Kerry, but by his voice and mannerisms alone V guessed him to be in his 60s – approached them with an outstretched hand. He wore a crème and baby-blue colored suit and excessive gold jewelry – but so did almost everyone else here, too. Kerry put on his best, fakest charming smile and shook the man’s hand, and V could’ve sworn to hear their rings clink against each other over the droning music.

“Well, ‘course I’m comin’ to my own party,” Kerry said, “Really outdid yourself from the looks of it.”

A quick scan of the man’s system revealed him to be one of the infamous studio bosses V had heard so much about. “Rich” was his ironically fitting name, or Richard. Like he had guessed it he was 62 years old, twice divorced, newly engaged, in very good shape for his job and age. Most of his cyberware was only for fashion, including the golden plates framing his cheek bones and fingertips, but like almost everyone at MSM he sported custom Kiroshis with decent scanners. Probably some self-ICE and security measures, but V decided not to linger too long and dig too deep to not get caught.

“You’re one of the top five, no, top three most important artists of our label. Of course we’re gonna throw you an according party,” Rich said, “And if anything’s not to your liking, say the word.”

“Shouldn’t have said that,” Kerry grinned, “I’d like the chocolate fountains replaced with vodka and pure gold, as a start. The rest I gotta check out first.”

Both Rich and Kerry laughed, but V didn’t miss the challenging glimmer in Kerry’s eyes, as if to say “try me”. Rich smiled a bit too brightly, a bit too politely, hiding his disdain while still playing along because without artists like Kerry he surely wouldn’t be leading the life he did. V just smiled and watched the conversation with great intrigue. But then the attention shifted to him, which he would have preferred not to happen.

“Now, where’s my manners,” Rich said and held out his hand to V, “Richard Kelley, COO MSM Records.”

V smiled, took note of his own system’s warning of unauthorized scanning that his ICE caught and prevented, and shook Rich’s hand without hesitation.

“V. Thanks for the invitation,” he said.

“V…” Rich said, as he undoubtedly read through the fake dossier V had set up to be shown to anyone trying to scan him tonight, “Feel like that should ring a bell but it doesn’t, my apologies.”

“Just a nickname. Kerry thinks ‘Vincent’ is too long,” V said nonchalantly.

“It is,” Kerry chimed in, V not even sure if he played along consciously or not, “V suits ya better.”

Rich folded his hands behind his back, as if to hide his cards.

“I think I do remember you now,” he said smiling, after a short pause, “Kerry’s right hand in the Us Cracks project.”

“Could say it like that, yeah,” V lied through his teeth, “Been trying to set foot in the music industry for years. Worked my way up from being a roadie back in ’69. Lately I’ve been organizing smaller gigs here and there. Met Kerry through one of my many connections and we hit it off quite well I’d dare to say.”

“I see,” Rich smiled, surely smelling the bullshit, even though it was very close to the truth. But there was nothing he could truly say or do against it here and now without causing a scene, and V felt like he would want to avoid that while Kerry was right next to them both.

“Well then, don’t wanna keep you away from your party any longer. Enjoy.”

He stepped aside, Kerry nodded, put his arm around V and led him further into the crowd.

“The fuck just happened? Vincent?” he asked through his smile as they passed by studio workers and celebrities and their entourage. V snickered.

“Can’t tell you how much I’ve missed playing games with people like him,” he said, and really, for the first 20 minutes they spent at the party he continued to ride this wave of adrenaline. A type of rush he hadn’t had in a too long time, and which was only really achievable by moving in circles like this.

“Also,” he added, “I think it’s actually gonna help our plan that he already knows me now. Is gonna make it a bit easier for Lee to set everything up how we want to.”

“Ooohhh,” Kerry nodded, “Fuck... You’re so hot when you’re all scheming… and reading people like an open book and all that crap.”

V chuckled when Kerry pulled him closer, but simultaneously his anxiety spiked. They’d gone around to shake some more studio people’s hands, met some of Kerry’s friends, producers, and had now trailed off to the bar where Kerry ordered them drinks. Something strong and boozy for himself, just a NiCola for V. V had been trying to keep track of everyone they spoke to for a potential familiar face that would recognize him and his connections to the Afterlife. Nothing so far, and paparazzi were strictly banned from the event. By accepting the invite you signed an NDA, it was that exclusive of a night. But the nagging thoughts didn’t want to leave him alone, especially when Kerry’s hand trailed down his back towards his ass, when he leaned in to kiss V’s neck, beard brushing against exposed skin.

“Wait, not… here,” he said and inched away just slightly. Kerry paused, then moved his sunglasses down just enough to be able to peer over the frame, look at V without that security barrier between them.

“At the bar, or in general on this rooftop?”

“I… dunno.”

“Just tell me and I’ll stop,” Kerry promised, “I know you’re not big on PDA. But we’re safe here, really. Thought this would be okay…”

“I know. I…” V struggled to find the right words again, “Maybe I just need some time to warm up to it all still.”

Right on cue the bartender delivered their drinks. Kerry reached over to grab both their glasses, also to give V some space. He handed him the ice-cold coke decorated with a slice of what had to be a real lemon.

“They’re really going all out, huh,” V noted as he briefly inspected the fruit and Kerry laughed.

“If you wanna we can hit the buffet. I think even the sushi is ‘ganic by the looks of it.”

“Maybe later,” V said, taking a sip, and Kerry copied him with his martini.

“My usual suggestion would be ‘have a drink’ but that sadly doesn’t work with you,” he said, with an added, “No offense.”

“None taken,” V shook his head, “Besides, I’m pumped full of meds that shouldn’t be combined with alcohol anyway.”

“A shit, right…”

“Just… gimme a little more time, alright? I’m happy to be here, havin’ a good time. Sure it’ll get better from here.”

“Okay,” Kerry smiled, reached out and hooked his pinky finger around V’s, a tiny gesture that meant so much between them at this point. A way to connect when they were out in public, discreetly, a small reassurance of “I respect your boundaries” while also saying “glad you’re here with me”. The smallest “I love you”. It did indeed help calm V’s nerves a little bit.

Drinks in hand they continued to mingle with the crowd. Most of the time V just listened to the conversations, not minding at all to be merely embellishment to Kerry’s big night. In fact, his pride grew with every encounter. If only half of the praise Kerry received was true, Rich hadn’t been so off with calling him one of the top three of MSM’s most important artists. No way to compete against Us Cracks at the moment, obviously, but there was no need to. Though Kerry seemed glad that they were on their world tour still and somewhere in Japan at the moment. Or so he thought, at least.

At one point during the night the studio bosses gave a short speech in front of the large screen. As they indulged in the worst self-adulation V had ever heard outside of a Counterintel meeting room, Kerry whispered to him about how he’d known most of the label bosses since they were teenage brats throwing around their family’s money.

“Insane how little some things and people change,” Kerry muttered between his teeth, face so close to V’s that his breath brushed across his neck and made him shiver pleasantly. V smiled at him, and discreetly, as everyone’s eyes were glued at the screen and the bosses, took and squeezed his hand and leaned against him.

Then “Shivers” was played to the audience officially for the first time, and even though V had been there for most of its creation process, hearing the final, polished version in full length was still a special moment he was glad to be able to share with Kerry. The presentation was followed by more praise and the crowd eventually slowly dissolved again to continue partying.

Kerry led a few more conversations with other musicians and producers about the creation process of his song. He enjoyed the attention very obviously, glowing and eagerly answering any and all questions he was asked, even if often not overly detailed. V loved listening to his thought process of writing and recording the song to a young and new producer particularly though. Praise was nice and all, but talking to someone on a technical level was what Kerry was best at. All of a sudden though, in the middle of explaining something in regard to the BPM, he froze up. His eyes had darted to the AV landing pad and his words trailed off like a spilled drink when three colorfully dressed young women exited their cab.

“For fuck’s sake…” Kerry muttered, then he turned to V, “Let’s delta.”

“What?” V snickered, but Kerry took his hand, excused himself out of the conversation, and led him to the edge of the rooftop lounge. They were between a row of golden glowing fake bamboo lamps and the tarps hiding any unsightly parts of the building from the prestigious party guests. The Us Cracks girls had reached the center of the party area already and were swarmed by admirers in no time.

“Kerry, they left their tour just to be here for your big night,” V teased, but Kerry just sighed deeply, squirming and restless.

“I knooow,” he said, voice whiny, “And like… I’m cool with them ‘n all. I don’t mind them bein’ here, and it’s a big gesture and whatnot. It’s cool, they’re cool, we’re cool!”

“But?” V tilted his head.

Kerry sighed and made a face, looked away as if he was embarrassed.

“They’re fucking exhausting! There, I said it!” it then burst out of him, and he shrugged dramatically, “I don’t get half the references they’re making! Kerry-san this, Kerry-san that… All that fuckin’ kawaii-talk makes my dick shrivel up!”

V snorted.

“They make you feel old, huh?”

Kerry raised a finger in warning.

“Thin ice, Vince,” he said, not entirely serious. Then his shoulders slumped, and he sighed.

“But… yeah.”

“Awww,” V cupped Kerry’s face, stepped closer, quickly made sure no one was immediately nearby… then gave him a quick kiss.

“That make it better?”

Kerry pouted.

“Not yet.”

“Hmm,” V hummed, his heart beating faster now. He learned in again, lips lingering longer now, the slightest tease of tongue, and he noticed how Kerry melted into his touch a bit more this time.

“And now?” he whispered, looking Kerry in the eyes, their faces still close.

“Alright fine,” Kerry muttered, but V noted the slight curl at the corners of his mouth. For a moment he almost wondered if Kerry was the one playing him now, but he brushed the thought aside. Kerry sighed deeply, grabbed V’s hand for support once more, and V joined him to face the new arrivals to the party.

“Kerry-san!!” Blue Moon already squealed from afar, frantically waving in their direction, and Kerry groaned only loud enough for V to hear it.

The crowd cleared a path for the three pop idols as they scurried over, screeching and seemingly prepared to jump onto Kerry all at once, but just in time they slowed down and the tackle turned into a regular group hug.

“Wow, that’s a… real surprise!” Kerry exclaimed with badly feigned excitement, “You really didn’t need to come just for this one night.”

“But of course we had to!” Purple Force nodded excitedly.

“MSM organized a direct priority flight from and to Tokyo just so we could be here!” Red Menace added.

All three of them were dressed in the same style of latex-and-sequin cocktail dresses that seemed inspired by kimonos. They were decorated with enormous sparkling bows and virtual petals fell wherever the girls walked. Of course all color-coordinated in their usual red, purple, and blue, as if it was hard to tell them apart otherwise. V realized just how much pressure there had to be on them to always stay on brand like that, but at the same time, if they minded it, they were good at hiding it.

“V, OMG, you’re here too!” Blue Moon exclaimed as if she’d only just realized he was here with them, and a cold shiver ran down his spine. All night he’d been worried about someone attending the party that knew he did merc work. And here they were, squeezing him into a group hug.

“Hey, it’s great to see you again,” V said in Japanese, downplaying his newly onset bout of nervousness.

He elicited an excited squeal from the girls, and a lot of chattering and a very quick summary of all they’d been up to since their last in-person meeting.

“Oooohh, are you Kerry-san’s new bodyguard now?” Red Menace then asked as if realization struck her only now that this wasn’t V’s typical surroundings, too.

“Oooooohhh, no, wait!” Blue Moon interrupted her, mouth and eyes wide.

Before V or Kerry could even say anything, glancing back and forth between the two of them, she squealed.

“I’m so excited! Are you dating?”

The other two joined in with their cooing and noises of excitement and various onomatopoeia underlining just how excited they truly were, and even V started to feel old now.

“Alright, c’mon, dial it back,” Kerry urged them, but at the same time he smiled, a hint of pride in his voice.

“You are though! That makes me so happy!” Purple Force exclaimed, hands clutched, and Blue Moon leaned in closer to V.

“Back then, before ‘Off the Leash’, we saw how you two looked at each other. We’ve been rooting for you from the start!”

V wasn’t sure how to react to an out-of-the-blue statement like that.

“Oh, c’mon now…” Kerry groaned.

“We suggested Kerry pick his favorite venue for our concert, and we made sure that he’d invite you!” Red Menace said.

“And made sure the paparazzi would be occupied talking to us, so you’d have some time for yourselves,” Purple Force added, flicking her head as if to wink… just not being able to physically wink with her huge, bug-like Kiroshis.

“Is that so…” V said, side-eyeing Kerry, “He never mentioned that.”

“Awww, Kerry-san,” the girls said almost in unison as they went in for another group hug, this time targeting them both at once, “We’re so happy things turned out like this for you!”

Kerry though was more than happy when they finally, finally were called away by their manager to meet some other studio people, giving him and V some room to breathe again.

“I need another drink or ten,” he said, and V laughed, looking at his phone briefly. Before the girls left, he’d asked them for another selfie, all five of them together this time, and they obviously agreed. He sent it to Panam, not sure when she’d see it as contact was still somewhat sporadic. He attached a little “believe me now that I know them? :P”

Then he accompanied Kerry back to the bar.

“Did I get that right, what they said earlier?” he decided to ask, leaving no room for misunderstandings, “They wanted to set us up?”

Kerry scoffed and played with his glass, but then he took off his sunglasses and put them down on the counter. They stood facing each other, but both still had a good view of the crowd. The music was getting louder and heavier on the dance tunes as the night went on. More and more people gathered on the dancefloor surrounding the DJ.

“Maybe… Just maybe,” Kerry then said, “I had a little crush on you then. But apparently, they had to point it out to me first. Made me grow a pair to invite you and plan that whole date like that.”

“Aww,” V smiled, “You didn’t realize you had a crush? I was pretty sure I did, I just didn’t think I had a chance with you.”

Kerry finally looked up from his drink and grinned.

“I thought…” he started slowly, quietly, “You’d think I’m too old. And, y’know, all that emotional baggage and chaos my life was… and still is.”

He paused to look around at the crowd. So many people, most of them probably from similar and higher circles that V grew up in, and far far away from the small standing Kerry worked his way up from over decades. Surely, they all had their rich inner lives and demons to face as well, but V could see the disdain in Kerry’s eyes, still, even after being a part of this world for longer than he hadn’t been. He closed his eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath and looked back at V.

“You were the realest, most genuine person I’d met in years, decades maybe,” he said, voice soft, “So yeah. Once I realized that, I fell hard, and fast. And fuck yeah, maybe I asked the girls for some advice here and there, ‘cause at least you’re all born in the same fuckin’ century.”

Then he downed his drink in one go and ordered the next right away.

V let this little confession sit for a couple of moments before taking Kerry’s hands and stepping closer.

“Thanks for sharing that with me,” he said quietly, “That’s actually pretty sweet.”

Kerry scoffed but smiled.

“Didn’t know you were concerned about me potentially thinking you’re too old,” he added, “If anything, I thought ‘what would he want with a dying 20-somethin-year-old’. Let alone with one possessed by the digital ghost of his dead ex-bandmate.”

Kerry chuckled.

“Would lie if I said that the Johnny-thing didn’t matter at first. In the sense that… Man, how do I say it without soundin’ like a complete gonkhead.”

He looked down to their interlaced fingers, gently rubbing V’s knuckles with his thumb.

“Try me. Nothin’ that can really shock me anymore,” V assured him. Kerry hummed.

“At first I thought, hell yeah, another chance with Johnny,” he began slowly, “Not even in the sense of like… y’know? Really just one last gig, for old time’s sake. Maybe finally get to tell him to go fuck himself for trying to keep me in his shadow like that. For all the shit he said, stealin my songs, my ideas, playin’ with me, shittin’ on me over and over again.”

Then he looked back up at V, pensive still.

“But then I realized… fuck Johnny, he doesn’t matter. ‘Cause there was you, shinin’ through the shadows of our past… and I wanted you so badly, but you only came as a package deal. And that sucked so hard.”

“Made you hesitate to make a move?” V asked, listening intently, not moving from where he stood. None of this was news to V, it had always been there in the subtext of their love story that Johnny was a deciding factor in how it would all work out or not.

“’Cause sure as hell made me hesitate as well. That he was there ‘n all,” he decided to add, and Kerry tilted his head slightly. Not sad, but nodding, understanding.

“’Outta all the guys in NC, you gotta pick my best friend’, day in day out,” V recounted, mocking Johnny’s voice and accent, “’At least he finally gets to fuck me now by fuckin’ you’ and crap like that.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Kerry sighed, “I can assure you, not fuckin’ once did I even waste a thought on him when we, like…”

“It’s okay,” V laughed, “Even if so, doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah… it really didn’t matter anymore,” Kerry reminisced again, smiling. He let go of V’s hand, fingers trailing up his arm, now cupping his cheek, caressing his jawline. V’s heart was racing, head spinning, but then he leaned into the soft touch.

“Not since you walked down the stairs by the stage at Dark Matter. Pushed your way through the crowd like none of them mattered either…” Kerry said, “And you stole me away. Made my old, half-dead heart, feel somethin’ again.”

V smiled, couldn’t really say anything at the sight of Kerry’s glistening eyes, the fine lines curling at their corners as he smiled, colorful lights dancing on, refracted from the gold on his cheeks and neck and chest.

“Love ya,” he just said quietly. It was all that he managed.

“Love ya, too, so much, V, I can’t tell you,” Kerry said, “Permission to fuckin’ kiss you now, in front of the whole damn label?”

V hesitated, but then nodded, and Kerry didn’t waste a millisecond to pull him into a heartfelt, passionate kiss. With every lick of his tongue, every nibble on his lips, a bit of V’s tension melted away, and he let himself fall into Kerry’s embrace, tasting the harshness of vodka mixed with smoke while his hands and caresses were so gentle against V’s skin.

Just slowly they pulled away from each other, and only far enough to catch their breath. V rested his hand on Kerry’s chest, fingers trailing along the golden, engraved plate decorating his sternum.

“So,” he slowly started, “Would you say I made your heart go ‘dokidoki’ when I walked down the stairs after your show back then?”

“Wow,” Kerry exclaimed with genuine disappointment, and V laughed, “Way to ruin a moment, V.”

He wasn’t truly upset though, just shook his head, and a whispered “fuckin’ gonk” was followed by another kiss.

The next song on the DJ’s tracklist let V toss the rest of his caution into the wind.

/My reflection/

/In this broken mirror/

/Is a program/

/In my head/

“Oh fuck yeah, they’re digging out the good stuff finally… no offense!” V laughed when Kerry frowned deeply.

“Yeah, just keep beating the old man down, go on! See what happens!”

“I’m sorry, babe, didn’t mean it like that,” V was still laughing, but Kerry also smiled when V took his hand and began pulling him towards the music, “Dance with me to make up for it?”

He didn’t have to ask Kerry twice and right when the first “Makes me feel better” echoed across the rooftops of Charter Hill they had become one with the glittering, glamorous crowd on the dance floor.

Not too close, but close enough so it was clear to everyone that they were here together, Kerry and V spent the rest of the DJ set dancing, letting go of anxiety and tension, until they were both thoroughly disheveled, sweaty, and out of breath. As the night progressed V was served reminder after reminder that his car accident wasn’t that far in the past, nor was the Crystal Palace gig for Blue Eyes. His ribs were hurting, and his elevated heartrate and exhaustion flushed his painkillers and other meds through his system much quicker than he would have liked. A short break was more than welcome. Kerry led him to a different corner of the lounge now, the familiar comfortable armchairs forming a cozy nook not too far off from the action of the night. They had a good view to the large video screen, this moment showing Kerry in his early 40s, still at the start of his solo career, running and jumping around on a large stadium stage.

“C’mere,” Kerry said laughing and out of breath as he pulled V down into one of the larger chairs, right onto his lap. They weren’t exactly alone, but everyone else in the lounge area was busy with their own conversations or amorous endeavors and paid them no mind.

“You good?” Kerry made sure when V slumped against his chest and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Yeah, really good,” V said, “But also really tired.”

Kerry kissed V’s forehead.

“If you wanna go home I’ll let them know and the AV’s ready in 5 minutes.”

V bit his lip.

“You gonna carry my over to the landing pad bridal style?”

Kerry snickered.

“I’ll do anything you wanna,” he purred.

“I’m listening…”

“Startin’ to think you’ve been sneakin’ some whiskey in that NiCola the whole evening,” Kerry teased but V laughed and shook his head. A distant throbbing at the base of his skull was another reminder to better take it slow for the rest of the night.

“No, I’m just… really glad I came. Didn’t realize how much I missed this. Haven’t really been out partying since…”

He had to really consider it for a moment.

“Probably since before Jackie died,” he realized and his stomach dropped, “Since then it was always just surviving, not living. Still is, most days, right now even, if you really think about it.”

Kerry hummed.

“Did I kill the mood?” V asked somewhat concerned and opened his eyes again.

“No, no, not at all,” Kerry assured him, watched him closely, “But I agree. Didn’t realize how much I missed this, too like… bein’ out partying with someone I care about, not just one of many people trying to numb themselves. It’s been a real good night. And I hope there’s many more to come.”

“For sure,” V smiled, trying to convince himself, heeding Fuentes’ words that even though it sounded unlikely, positive thinking had a measurable impact on the effectiveness of any healing process, blah, blah, blah… He decided to banish any thoughts of the Med Center or the Afterlife from his head for the rest of the night.

They just lingered in the lounge chair a bit longer, listening to the crowd and the music as the night around them grew colder, and occasionally Kerry reminisced, recalled an interesting anecdote about one of the scenes they had picked for the throwback reel still playing. V enjoyed resting in his arms now, so closely, their fingers interlocked, and barely flinched when someone looked in their direction or walked by. Kerry had grown quieter as the videos began to repeat, and instead they now watched the colorful crowd. Just moments before he almost suggested to leave, V spotted a familiar silvery head of hair among all the people and was instantly wide-awake again.

“Oh fuck,” he perked up, alerting an already half-dozed-off Kerry, “Is that Slavoj McAllister?”

Kerry followed his gaze.

“Yeah, looks like it!” he confirmed calmly, “Been wondering if he’s even here, the Duelists are on tour as well.”

V didn’t respond, just stared at McAllister, dressed in an ensemble of dark blue leather and white faux-fur, and also sporting his iconic, extra-large silver sunglasses of course.

“Want me to call him over?” Kerry asked, and V turned to look at him, not missing the teasing tone in his voice.

“No, it’s fine,” he said, playing it a little too cool after his first excitement, “I’m just. It’s neat that he’s here, is all.”

“You’re fucking star-struck, ain’t ya,” Kerry shook his head, “You weren’t nearly half as flustered when I stood in front of you in just my bathrobe, patting your cheek.”

“Oh, shut up,” V muttered but didn’t exactly make it any better this way. Kerry knew exactly that V had had a huge crush on McAllister when he was a teen, room plastered with posters of the Cartesian Duelists. And he was also more than happy to express his disdain about how his “rival’s” (they were friends, actually) music was played in their home more often than his own whenever he had the chance.

“C’mon, I’ll introduce ya. Never gonna get a chance like this again anytime soon,” Kerry said and wiggled free from under V, who continued to protest.

“No, Kerry, wait! I don’t wanna fuckin’… he’s here to party, not to entertain fans.”

“Technically he’s here to stroke my ego, so I stroke his next time he releases a new song,” Kerry brushed him off and finally managed to get up from the chair, already began to walk into McAllister’s direction, “He won’t mind.”

“Oh fuck…” V panicked but in the end Kerry was right. No time like the present.

He got up and followed with some distance.

“Heeeey, Mr. Makes-Me-Feel-Better!” Kerry called loudly to get the other musician’s attention, and V cringed just slightly.

“Aaahh, Mr. Shivers, been wondering where you’ve been hidin’ all evening,” McAllister said with his simultaneously raspy yet ethereal voice. V’s head started spinning aagin when he watched them shake hands and give each other a brief hug and pat on the back.

“Great work with that song, Kerry, gotta give ya that,” McAllister said, “The bassline leading up to the chorus? Preem detail, your idea?”

“Fuckin’ course,” Kerry nodded.

“Thought so, thought so. Vikki was probably all like ‘hm, not sure that’s gonna work darlin’, how ‘bout we keep it a bit simpler for the brainless masses payin’ our bills?’”

V was impressed how well he imitated the producer’s voice and demeanor; he was actually quite mesmerized by seeing his idol talk so casually in general. He’d been to many concerts, obviously knew all the music videos, interviews and whatnot. But a celebrity in a casual conversation with a friend was rare and uncanny, this up close and in real life, not with the barrier of a screen or braindance wreath between them.

“All that aside, I’d like to introduce ya to someone,” Kerry said and turned to V, who only just managed to not freeze up completely. He took a deep breath and swallowed down his anxiety.

“This is V,” Kerry said and with gentle force pulled V closer, “V, Slavoj McAllister.”

In person he seemed even taller than V knew he was. Briefly he only admired his outfit, some sort of one-piece body suit with a matching coat. For sure a Jinguji custom design going by the intricate seams and many sleek little details and interesting textures that accentuated the singer’s body, a half-opened zipper exposing his large chest tattoo and neck cyberware.

“Nice to meet ya, V,” McAllister said and held out his hand. This was the exact moment 16-year-old V would’ve had tragically passed away. 28-year-old V though actually managed to keep it together and took McAllister’s hand.

“Likewise! An honor, really, I’m a big fan,” he said, trying to downplay his excitement just somewhat.

“Aahh, preem,” McAllister said, “Haven’t got anything to sign with me, but just say the word, Kerry and I gotta spend a lil’ more time together anyway.”

“Do we now? What did I miss?”

“Dunno, just a feelin,” McAllister shrugged, “Feel like we could create somethin’ preem together – ain’t it weirder that we haven’t done somethin’ together yet?”

V’s thoughts trailed off in all sorts of directions at “doing something together”, but none of them had anything to do with making music anymore.

“Maybe that’s how I get him to play more of my music at home,” Kerry said, pulling V’s thoughts out of his fantasies, “Slap a ‘feat. Slavoj McAllister’ onto them.”

“I mean…” V said slowly, “I think it could work.”

There was a brief pause in which McAllister looked at them both intensely – at least V guessed he did, as he couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses. Then he put two and two together.

“Aaahhh… You’re dating? Nova, happy for ya,” he just nodded, as if the whole conversation wasn’t surreal enough already, “Y’know, I’m still enjoyin’ my freedom, unbound and just vibin’, makin’ music. It’s the best damn thing.”

“Yeah, really can be,” Kerry nodded, “Happy for ya, too choom. Keep rockin’.”

“You, too. Excited already to hear the rest of the album,” McAllister said and shook Kerry’s hand again. Then he turned to V.

“V, got a favorite Duelists song?”

V was this close to asking Kerry to pinch him.

“Hard to choose just one, but with a gun to my head… gotta say ‘Kill the Messenger’.”

McAllister motioned a finger gun with his right hand at V and fired it, before shifting and just holding it out normally for a handshake. V was utterly mesmerized and hoped he wasn’t staring with his mouth open. He wouldn’t notice it anymore at this point.

“Preem, noted. One of my personal faves, too. Your boy’s got taste Kerry, just sayin’,” and with that he shook V’s hand.

“Oh, I know. That’s why he’s mine.”

McAllister laughed, nodded at them, then slowly trailed off, floated away almost, and let his gaze wander across the crowd as if he truly cared for none of them and his job here was done.

“I think I just had a fuckin’ stroke,” V said, still holding out his hand that McAllister shook, and Kerry laughed.

“C’mon, think it’s time to get you home and to bed.”

“Good plan,” V sighed and rubbed his tired eyes.

About an hour later they were finally home. They’d said goodbye to the Us Cracks girls, then Lee ran into them to almost ruin an otherwise perfect evening, but thankfully the encounter was brief.

V downed his nightly dose of meds, then plopped down onto their bed, face-first, and let out the longest, happiest sigh he was still capable of.

Kerry laughed and joined him, and V shuffled to look at him, even though he could barely keep his eyes open anymore. He reached over, ran his fingers through Kerry’s beard, the moonlight reflecting from the many little grey hairs particularly beautifully this moment.

“My pretty old man,” he said quietly and Kerry chuckled and put his hand on V’s, not to stop him, just touching, connecting with him. Then they just laid like this for a while, gently caressing and touching, but for more they were both too exhausted. But just this was just as nice.

“Thanks for convincing me to come,” V eventually whispered, when he felt like he was just about to drift to sleep.

“Thanks for letting me convince you,” Kerry smiled, “Should do that more often.”

“Yeah, I know… Will do.”

Then his eyes fell shut, and he could still feel the beat of the music, the rush and the joy. He dozed off to visions and memories of dancing and laughing with Kerry that he’d hold dear and cherish for the rest of his life.

*****************

>> Next Chapter

*****************

Notes:

This was a long one but such a fun one I had also really been looking forward to writing \o/ I hope you had fun at the fancy MSM party, too. Originally the plan was to include a spicy scene as well, but that may have to wait for the next chapter 👀 otherwise I'd have probably cracked the 10,000 words mark xD

Also, thanks so much you all for reading this story and sticking around for over a year now as I keep writing and updating it at my own little pace! I hope this time next year it's gonna be finished or close to it :D Vince and Kerry mean so much to me by now, and I never stuck with a longfic, well, this long. Excited to continue and finish this!

Requested Fic Update Tags:

@humberg @r3d-f0xs-blog @thatinternetwanderer @localtranspigeon @taiyo-yokai @kharonion @genocidalfetus @seeker-of-truth @readalotbook @losttr3asur3 @chromeaholic 💜

If you’d also like to get tagged when I post a new chapter for this fic, leave a reply on [this post] or send me a DM!

If you do not want to receive further tags, shoot me a quick DM and I’ll take you off the list again!

#cyberpunk 2077 #Cyberpunk2077 #cp2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #cp2077 fanfic #cyberpunk fanfic #kerry eurodyne #kerry eurodyne x v #otp: to bad decisions #vincent ezaki #my writing #love is stored in the olive jar

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saiilorstars · 4 months ago

Text

For Better Days | Ch.1: I Hate Camping

Fandom: MCU ○ Bucky Barnes x OFC

Story Summary: Chloe's forced to go camping with her brothers so Bucky decides to give her a few tips to survive...

Story Masterlist ○ Chloe's Masterlist○

Also available on Fanfic ○ Ao3 ○ Wattpad

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag @arrthurpendragon @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel @stareyedplanet@averyhotchner @foxesandmagic @kmc1989 @caplanbuckybarnes

[If you’d like to be a part of any OC’s works/edits, let me know!]

His head was always clouded. In fact, Bucky couldn't really remember a moment where his head wasn't fuzzy and at a loss for coherent thoughts. Even after escaping HYDRA and freeing himself of their brainwash, he only ever felt real clarity a handful of times. And there was always one common denominator across all the individual moments.

"If you stare any harder, she'll burst into flames." Sam was smirking from ear to ear when Bucky met his eye. "You know, with that cyborg stare of yours…it could happen."

"Shut up, Sam," Bucky muttered. And then to lessen Sam's point, he turned away from Chloe and Sam's sister Sarah. Unfortunately, Sam had followed him to the porch steps and sat down with him.

"It's really not that hard, you know. I would think that after everything you've been through, asking some girl out would be easy-peasy, you know." Sam's smirk had not diminished in any way.

"I don't need your tips, Sam," Bucky said quietly. As much as he fought, he wasn't able to resist the urge to gaze ahead of them again.

Chloe was talking to Sarah and seemed pretty chippy about whatever their conversation was about. Bucky wouldn't say it but he could stare at Chloe for hours.

In the next minute or so, Chloe and Sarah started heading towards the house.

"Anything you need from us, just let me know, alright?" Sarah had gone up the porch steps, narrowly missing Sam's attempt to poke her leg.

Chloe had stopped in front of the steps, slipping her hands in her back pockets. "I will. Thanks, Sarah."

"What are you two up to?" Sam asked suspiciously when his sister had gone inside the house.

"She was giving me camping tips," Chloe said, leaving both Sam and Bucky confused. She rolled her eyes, knowing exactly what they were thinking. "My stupid brothers want to go camping."

"And you stupidly said yes?" Bucky said with a much too innocent smile. She pointed a finger at him, warning him to watch his words. Bucky laughed lightly. "Sorry, I just don't exactly see you as the camping type."

"I'm not," Chloe agreed, flatly. "But since I've blown them off so many times now, there's no way out of it." She pulled her hands from her back pickets and crossed her arms. "Unfortunately, I think I'll be dead by the end of this camping trip. I know squat about camping, which they'll take full advantage of."

"That they will," Sam nodded. "We'll miss you."

"Be quiet, Sam," Chloe muttered.

"Yeah, be quiet Sam," Bucky said as he stood up from his spot. "Chlo, let me help you out. I can teach you a few things before you head out."

"Really?" Chloe raised an eyebrow at him. "Aren't you leaving too?"

"My flight was pushed back to tomorrow so I have all of today."

"Yeah, and he wants to take full advantage of it," Sam said with a wide smirk. Bucky looked over his shoulder in a rather murderous way.

Shut up.

Chloe was none the wiser of the brewing murder plot so she accepted Bucky's help. "Guess it wouldn't hurt but if you make fun of me, I'll shoot you."

Bucky smiled at her fondly. There was no way she could make the shot but he'd still let her take it.

With a few things from the Wilsons' shed, the camping 101 crash course started. Chloe reiterated how the whole damn thing was beyond stupid. Who needed camping anyways?

Bucky found it amusing the way she didn't run out of things to hate on in regards to camping. "Dollface, you were an Avenger — a fugitive at some point — and camping is what seems like a challenge?"

"Don't laugh, Bucky Barnes!" Chloe pointed a finger at him the moment his lips twitched. Said finger started glowing blue, giving Bucky a good idea of what was to come if she decided that he was laughing at her.

"Alright, alright, come here," he motioned her to follow him. "If you're going to do traditional camping, then you're gonna have to learn how to set up a tent."

"I hate tents," went Chloe flatly.

Bucky's back was still to her so hiding his smile, almost laugh, was easy that time. "Yes, but you're gonna want a tent if you plan to sleep. Unless you're doing sleep bags outside."

"There's no fucking way I'm doing that!" Chloe said, appalled. "I'll actually murder my brothers then."

"Then let's practice setting up a tent." Bucky had done them the favor of taking out the tent pieces from the shed and left them on the ground. "It's a good thing the Wilsons love their camping too."

"Mhm…" Chloe eyed the pieces with disdain. "So where do I start or whatever?"

"Well, first you would want to make sure the area you pick to put your tent in is flat, alright?" Bucky looked back at Chloe, dead serious now. She nodded with him.

"Flat ground, got it. What's next?"

"A tarp on the ground before you set anything up." Bucky pointed at the folded tarp next to her.

"Why?" She reached over to pick it up.

"Keeps moisture out."

Chloe's nose crinkled with disgust. "Moisture? Eugh, what did I get talked into doing!" She groaned and slapped the tarp against her face.

Bucky chuckled then, and to his surprise Chloe didn't try to shoot him. He gently took the tarp off her face and assured her that it wasn't that bad.

After putting the tarp down on the ground, Bucky showed Chloe the tent poles they had to put up. Chloe felt her head spin when he started showing her the corresponding flaps in the tent. She had to slid the poles into the right ones or the whole thing would be messed up.

Bucky showed her how to do the first one then let her do the second one. She nearly ripped the fabric from frustration.

"Eugh, I hate this!" She was shoving the tent pole through the flap but it kept getting stuck so she had to pull it out and try all over again.

Bucky came around beside her and stopped her altogether with a hand over her wrists. "Let me show you again," he said, absolutely calm and patient.

Chloe let go of everything and watched him redo what she'd been trying and got it done so easily. "You're good at this stuff," she said with a faint smile on her face. "And you're a good teacher."

Bucky pretended to be solely focused on what his hands were working with because the alternative was looking at Chloe and therefore revealing the stark red blush on his face. "It just comes with experience," he said after clearing his throat. "The days of a soldier — the good one."

Chloe didn't miss the way he was quick to clarify what side of himself he spoke about — the urgency, really, like she would automatically assume that every part of his past was the Winter Soldier. She often hoped that one day he wouldn't feel compelled to always have to clarify his "good" and "bad" parts of life.

Eventually, the tent was built and although Chloe knew that she could've helped more, Bucky assured her that she had done it in the end. A pure lie since he was the one who set it up but there was no winning against that guy.

"Now taking it apart—"

"Will be my brothers' jobs," Chloe said decisively. Feeling Bucky's side-glance, she met it with a smirk. "I'm the little sister. They gotta do something for me, right?"

With that face, anyone would do everything for you. Bucky's face warmed at his thoughts. He quickly moved onto a different skill. Campfire set-up.

For that, they ventured a little further from the Wilsons' residence. On their walk, Bucky explained to Chloe what she needed to look out for.

"You're gonna want to find dead, dry wood. Nothing bendy and definitely nothing moist which means fresh wood us out too, got it?"

"Got it," Chloe affirmed and helped him find the right pieces of wood.

They started making a small pile of woods with the intention of lighting it when they were done. Bucky went into deep details about how to set the wood properly and how to light it.

"I hear you, I do," Chloe started, bringing her hands up from her sides, "But I could also just do this." She shot a ray of a psionic blast at the logs and started the fire.

Bucky deadpanned her grinning face (which was kind of cute). "That's not proper camping," he pointed at her.

"But I got the fire going," Chloe retorted. "Isn't that what we wanted?"

"You're cheating!"

"But is it actually cheating or is it me working smarter not harder?"

"Chlo, c'mon…" But Bucky was chuckling, which made Chloe start to do the same…which just meant the seriousness of the situation was gone and that she was ultimately right.

After properly learning how to put out the fire — without the use of powers — the two started heading back to Sam's place. Bucky still had some tips to hand out, like what she should bring, the things she shouldn't bring, what she should wear…

"I'm only going for a few days," she reminded him. "Any more than that and I'd personally hang my brothers."

Bucky chuckled at her. "So how'd you even get roped into this? You don't strike me as the camping type." She wasn't at all.

"It was my brothers' idea. Bonding or whatever," Chloe shook her head. "As if we couldn't do that at a restaurant or something. Even like a proper cabin and stuff. Ever been to Big Bear in California?"

Bucky gave a shake of his head. "Not really."

"That's my kind of camping, not sleeping-inside-a-tent shit." Chloe continued to complain all the way back to the Wilsons'.

She plopped down on the porch steps and motioned Bucky to do the same with her. He of course had no protests against the idea.

"I would much rather help you and Sam out on your missions. Aren't you guys headed to, like, Quebec?"

"I think so, yeah," Bucky said then laughed at Chloe's put-out reaction. "No need to get all grumpy, doll. It's not like we're going out there to have fun. You're the one who gets to go and relax, so have fun."

"You and I have very different ideas of what having fun is," Chloe said dead seriously, leading Bucky to laugh again.

"If your definition of having fun is going on a mission in the middle of nowhere, then I fear we do…"

Chloe shot him a look but in a few seconds it dissolved and she was smiling at him…which then made him do the same. Her smiles were always infectious.

"I would still rather be with you — and Sam!" Chloe's face flushed immediately as she heard her own mistake. "With you and Sam on your mission, I meant…" She cleared her throat and looked straight ahead. What she would give for the ground to open up and swallow her whole right now…

Luckily, Bucky didn't seem to notice her 'grave mistake'. He reiterated that a nice camping trip was still the better choice. Chloe agreed to disagree and before she could make a fool of herself again, her phone rang in her pocket.

"I'll leave you to that," Bucky said and stood up from the steps. "Hungry?"

Chloe nodded at him. "A bit."

"I'll see what they have going on in the kitchen. Don't be long — it's getting cold out here."

Chloe chuckled. Bucky didn't feel cold the same way she and the others did, what with the serum and all. Still, he was always attentive to the weather for their sake — for her sake. She was no stranger to his sweaters and jackets when they happened to be outside in a chilly moment. She loved his attentiveness, making her feel quite the special girl…not that she would ever say it out loud.

"Hello?" Chloe answered the phone before her thoughts got away from her too much.

"Hey! I was just about to hang up. You took forever to answer!" Seren Soul was on the other line and much like always, she was very cheery.

"Sorry, I was, uh, getting some camping 101…" Chloe looked back at the house and saw the front door was shut. Bucky was long gone.

"Ah, so you couldn't get out of it then? You'll be camping with your brothers?"

"Horrific, I know," Chloe said with a sigh. "And me, the worst camper in history. I'm sure they'll be ganging up on me. It's what brothers do, especially older ones."

"Times like these, I'm glad to be an only child!"

Chloe smiled dryly. "You want one? I have two so I can definitely spare one."

Seren laughed. "No, no, I'm good. I like my life just the way it is."

"Mm, I bet you do," Chloe smiled. She could hear the faint hollering of kids in the background. "Sounds like you have a show going on over there…"

Seren hummed. "Oh, you know. With a five year old and a toddler in the house, Steve and I barely get a moment of peace. What you're hearing right now is a rendition of Frozen. For the third time today."

It was Chloe's turn to laugh. "Record and send please. You know I love my God-children."

"Will do! So I was just calling to see if you still need me to pick you up at the airport?"

"Yes, if you still can of course. I need to get packing asap. Sort of left it for the last minute."

"Of course you did. What about Bucky? Steve said he had a mission in Quebec or something? Is he not coming back to New York first?'

"He's flying out tomorrow instead. Apparently, his flight got delayed. But the mission's still on. Wish I could join them instead of this camping stuff."

"Right, and it totally has nothing to do with the fact you'd be spending the whole week with Bucky instead of your brothers, right?"

Chloe could hear the smirk on Seren's face. "You don't know what I'd rather do than camping. Don't underestimate my hatred for camping, Seren."

"Oh, I don't, but I also know you'd rather be with Bucky 24/7."

"I'm gonna hang up now."

"Oh c'mon! All I have at home right now is Let It Go and a stupid snowman going 'I've been impaled' on repeat. Give me something, Chloe!"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "There's nothing to give, Seren. We've been over this many times."

"Yes, so I don't understand what keeps getting lost in the conversations. It's quite simple, really. You like Bucky. Bucky likes you. See? Simple."

Chloe snorted. "I know you of all people are not telling me about having feelings for someone when you literally spent how long denying your feelings for your current husband?"

"Well take it as someone with experience, then," said Seren. "You should tell him. I mean, you guys are at this secluded place, right?"

"You mean Sam's family home? Where Sam and his sister and his nephews live? You see the problem, right?"

"Yes, okay, but truthfully there's not gonna be a right moment and I feel like you're just prolonging this. Bucky too. It's so obvious that it's painful to watch."

"Goodbye, Seren." Chloe was prepared to end the call right there when Seren shouted at her to wait.

"I bug you with the best intentions," she said as a weak apology. "I'm your best friend. I'm just trying to help you out. Sorry."

"I know you are," sighed Chloe. Seren would never do anything malicious. Chloe wasn't even sure Seren could do something of the sort. "But it's a lost cause."

"Mm, I wouldn't be so sure, Chloe. But I'm gonna have to put a pause on the conversation. One of my kids is making eyes at my bookshelf…"

Chloe chuckled. "Good luck with that."

"Ditto! Gotta go!" Seren hung up shortly after, leaving Chloe to dwell on the conversation and her thoughts.

Eventually, Chloe gathered herself up and went back inside to have her last dinner with the Wilsons and Bucky. She struggled to take her mind off Seren's words whenever she glanced at Bucky. He was damn cute when he interacted with Sam's nephews. He was clueless around them but that was the charming part. She liked watching him trying to be him — carefree and simply trying to live. He deserved the opportunity and much more. Which was why she often re-decided to keep her feelings to herself. She didn't want to add any kind of stress to his life and his new journey to build himself up again. What she wanted most was to see him happy and if she had to do it as his friend, then so be it. It was a small price to pay for his happiness.

~ 0 ~

The following week, Bucky counted each day that passed by like his life depended on it. Never had time gone by so slowly. Despite the fact he spent half the week in Quebec on a mission, time still managed to pass by so damn slow. He knew why, he just didn't admit to it out loud…not that it stopped Sam from teasing him about it. The fact that Chloe was camping and completely away from technology wasn't supposed to hit him that badly. It was like a dry spell.

Time was when he lived in Wakanda, he had to go days — weeks even — without contact from Chloe (and the rest of their friends). Now he was so used to having Chloe at a simple call away that it seemed outrageous to have gone almost a week without hearing from her.

On the day that she was supposed to be back in the city, he got a message from Steve in the evening. He was supposed to go to some bar down in Manhattan. Bucky didn't think twice. For once, it looked like Steve was playing the wingman.

When Bucky stepped inside the bar, his eyes immediately scoured the area for his — Chloe. He scoured the area for Chloe. It didn't take long for him to spot the gorgeous blonde sitting at the bar counter with their friends Seren and Steve. She looked so happy, not to mention crazy beautiful. She was wearing a dark dress hugging her body so nicely…

His feet walked before he even thought about it. It was Steve's voice that broke him out of his trance — he was greeting.

"You and Sam didn't kill each other!" He clapped Bucky on the shoulder.

"Don't sound so sad about it," Bucky mumbled. His eyes barely left Chloe when he greeted Steve and Seren. "How was the camping?" He asked Chloe, who immediately snorted.

"Peachy," she said, raising her glass up at him. "I should have gone to Quebec with you."

Bucky half smiled at her. "That bad, eh?"

"Get a drink, it'll be a long night by the time I've finished telling you everything my dumbass brothers did to me."

Bucky's smile spread. He would've laughed had Chloe not been so serious. That, however, didn't stop Seren and Steve from laughing.

"Shut it you two," Bucky warned the couple.

"I think we're no longer needed here, honey," Seren whispered to Steve. He agreed with a hum and took out a few bills to cover their bill.

"We'll be seeing you two," Steve said, slipping out of his stool. He took his wife's hand and walked away.

Neither Chloe nor Bucky seemed to mind — they barely noticed them leave.

"So," Bucky sat next to Chloe, "how bad was it, really?"

Chloe had a tight smile on her face when she answered. She hated camping before, but now she detested it. Camping was useless to her. Pointless.

Bucky let her go on until she literally ran out of things to say. He thought the whole thing was funny. Chloe was a bit of a drama queen — he loved that about her and he would never change that — so he knew the camping couldn't have been that bad. Sure, her brothers may have messed with her but not to the extent that she swore up and down by.

After a few more drinks, Bucky decided it was time to cut her off. She didn't seem drunk but it was better to quit while they were ahead. She didn't mind, especially when he asked if he could walk her home.

Screw the drinks, Chloe immediately thought and was getting up from her stool before Bucky even offered to pay for their drinks.

They were soon on the street heading for Chloe's apartment. Bucky shrugged off his jacket and draped it over Chloe's shoulders, earning a soft smile from her in return.

"Thank you," she said and held the jacket closer around her.

"So how bad was the camping trip really?" he asked her.

"Bad," Chloe groaned, making him laugh. "I'm being serious. I got a ton of bug bites! I'm pretty sure I touched something I was allergic to because I got a wicked rash on my foot!"

Bucky laughed again. "What, were you walking barefoot or something?"

"Ha, ha," Chloe mimicked his laugh before shooting him a sharp glance. "I'll have you know that I saw a spider and I bolted."

"So you were walking barefoot?"

"Running, if we're being technical."

"You're lucky all you got was a rash, then. You never walk barefoot in the woods!"

"Don't you think I know that!? I got scared!"

"Of a spider?" Bucky teased her. "You have been through hell with missions and you are still afraid of spiders?"

Chloe couldn't take his laughter. She pulled his jacket off her shoulders and used it to smack him with it in the middle of the street. Bucky's laughter actually got louder instead.

"Alright, alright, I surrender!" He said with his hands covering his head. Chloe was smug at her victory and stopped hitting him. "So much for all the Winter Soldier training…" He mumbled under his breath and gazed at Chloe fondly. She was still semi-glaring at him but a little smile was trying to overshadow it. He reached over and took his jacket from her and placed it over her shoulders again. "Okay, I'm done now. I promise."

Chloe still did her best to keep glaring at him. "I could shoot you right now…"

"And I could take it…right now," he copied her with a smug smile. She rolled her eyes. He chuckled. "I'm done." He tugged his jacket closer around her, and in the process her body to his. "You know I'd let you win any day."

"This doesn't sound like you're 'done' to me…"

"I had one more, sorry."

"You're still taking me home?"

"You know it." Bucky let her go and instead took her hand in his. He didn't often touch her and when he did, he always tried to do it with his flesh hand. Especially these days and nights when it was colder, he didn't want to add on to the coolness. Chloe never said a thing, though. She loved any of his touches, no matter how minimal they were (and they usually were).

They walked the rest of the way without bickering and hitting. Chloe finished telling Bucky about the rest of her camping experience and declared that she would never, ever, go back to such a horrid thing.

"Think I've never heard someone hate camping so much," Bucky said with a chuckle.

Chloe reached her apartment door first and searched for her keys in her purse. "There are just so many other great things to do, Bucky. Why would I ever want to go back to the dirt and sleep on the ground?"

Bucky rolled his eyes and watched her unlock the door. "I guess I'll leave you to it, then…"

"What?" Chloe looked at him quickly. "I thought…I mean — do you want to come in? You haven't told me about your mission in Quebec."

"I haven't…" Bucky agreed. He would take any excuse to spend more time with her. He let Chloe tug him inside the apartment like he didn't have super strength. He'd let her lead him any time and anywhere.

Chloe took his jacket off and handed it back to him. "Oh, you know what? I have something of yours here too. Give me a sec!" She hurried off into the hallway, disappearing for all of two minutes before coming back with another familiar jacket in her arms — a few of them. "Think I've been making you a spot in my closet or something."

Bucky hadn't even realized she'd been accumulating his things but he remembered each and every one of his jackets draped over her shoulders. Every time they were out somewhere and he thought it was chilly, he would give her whatever he was wearing to cover herself up.

"Anyways, thanks for letting me borrow them," Chloe put the jackets on the table for the moment. "Don't worry. They've all been washed."

"Doll, you did not have to do that," Bucky said, making her chuckle. He wouldn't mind having some of his things smelling like her.

"I know, but what kind of friend would I be if I returned everything all dirty?"

He watched her set his pile of clothes on the table for him. His heart was yearning for her. "Well, why don't I thank you for the gesture? Maybe some dinner tomorrow somewhere nice?"

Chloe heard the question and for a second wondered if she was jumping to conclusions because it very well sounded like a…

"Like a…a date?" She had tried saying it boldly but her voice had shaken in the end. She tucked some hair behind her ear and looked at him nervously.

Bucky gave a firm nod of his head. "A date." Why not? He already made a fool of himself plenty of times before, so what was one more time if it meant he could go out on a date with the prettiest girl in the world?

"Okay," Chloe nodded, smiling with an even darker blush on her face. "Yeah, I'd love that. Um, yeah!" She bounced excitedly and threw her arms around Bucky, laughing with him.

He loved hearing her so happy and he wanted to keep being the reason for it. He passed his flesh hand on her cheek, taking the moment to gaze at her. "You're real pretty, doll."

Chloe smiled from ear to ear. Even though her nerves were making her heart race intensely, she couldn't be any happier. "And you're very handsome…" She retorted, reaching for his other arm — the metal one — and brought it around her waist. Her sharp look was that of a challenge in the face of Bucky's hesitance. "I like you all," she said bravely and after a few more seconds of boldness, she added: "And I love you all."

Bucky blinked a few times at her. His lips parted several times but each time he was unable to say a word. How could she be more brave than him?

His metal hand gripped her waist and sighed. "I love you but you are way more than I deserve."

"No," Chloe said, still smiling, "We are exactly what we deserve." She leaned forward, touching noses. "Now I know you're all about being proper but what's it going to take to get a little kiss from you before the date?"

Bucky chuckled lightly. "Not much if I'm being honest."

"Ooh, I like that answer…"

"Yeah?"

Chloe chuckled with him. "Yeah!"

"Already off to a good start then…" Bucky mumbled and pressed his lips against hers. He could hear Chloe's giggle against his own lips and by God, it felt even better reverberating against his skin.

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alpineshift · 6 months ago

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okay, I have no idea how coherent this is going to be, so bear with me, but here are my thoughts on jealous!Jack...

first and foremost, we must set the scene. I think my favorite thing about Devils games is that Nico is always finding himself in a situation. This is really due to the fact that he's always net front, always going into the dirty spaces, always in the midst of puck battles, and isn't afraid to use his skating ability to outsmart an opponent.

I'm thinking specifically of these moments: Exhibit A, Exhibit B, Exhibit C.

and I'm just imagining Jack either on the ice or on the bench watching things like this happen all game, every game. Like Nico's a one man charm offensive right and he doesn't this turn this charm off on the ice or off the ice, and so Jack day in, day out, is not only seeing his own teammates fall all over themselves trying to impress Nico or get a head pat from Nico, but the media who are also a little bit in love with him, and now also dudes from other teams.

and you add this to Jack's mile long praise kink, and you get Jack being Jack and then all of his cellies especially from the 2022-2023 season involve him making sure to get his hugs/pats/praise/love from Nico. he loves that attention and he wants to make sure everyone out there knows that although Nico may be a charm machine, its Jack who Nico belongs to and vice versa.

casual possessive hand on Nico's number, skipping the celly line to go straight to Nico and then getting cockblocked by Colin Miller, casual possessive bear paws around Nico in the singles corner of a team photo, scooching across the bench to get his head pats

just love the idea of like Jack needing to balance the fact that he knows Nico is the Captain and he knows Nico needs to make time for all of the Devs boys, but Jack also wants his Nico all to himself.

and Nico always indulges him. every time Jack uses his stick to get Nico's attention, on the bench, during a celly, during a conference before a face off, after a game, any time Jack wants Nico's attention, Nico will always give it. its a symbiotic relationship.

but basically, everyone's a little bit in love with Nico right. like look at him. and look at how everyone in the league interacts with him. everyone's definitely a little in love with Nico, and Jack knows Nico only has eyes for him, but it does drive him a little bit bat shit that all of these people are constantly getting put under a spell by Nico's dimples and his cow eyes.

there's also this silly little headcanon I had back when Timo first joined the team last season about how Jack maybe felt a type of way about another guy joining the team that Nico has history/shared life experience with. maybe Jack decides to learn Swiss for like five minutes to try to understand what Timo and Nico are laughing about in Swiss German all the time.

I dunno, there's a lot going on in my noggin about this. its my absolute favorite because like Jack was THE boy at the USNTDP and everyone kind of circles around him and he's a first overall and on the Devils, the team, the media, the narratives circle around him. and you put that together with the magnetic pull of one Nico Hischier and oh boy whats Jack's brain doing now huh?

this is getting far too long, so I'm gonna just shut up now, very sorry for like word vomiting in your ask box, ahahaha!

trust me I have SO many thoughts about this. so many.

the way I am CHOWING DOWN on this...help me...I literally went and made myself a tea so I could tuck in and unspool your ask in its full glory. THANK YOU. this is my jealous jack bible now LOL

reading this has made me realize Nico is basically a capybara LOL. chill, cute, friend shaped, minds his own biz, universally beloved and makes buddies across all animal kingdoms. none of us are immune to the Nico CharmTM, least of all hockey players, least of all jack hughes. that backhug picture of them from the team gathering gets me every time. I love to see it.

the layers are there and they are so endearing. I'm living for your Timo headcanon bc I recently had the experience of seeing a Timo pic on the devil's social media and went "oh whoa holy shit he's good looking" so I can project this feeling onto Jack, who's torn between wow he's good looking to him and nico are real close and idk how to feel about that levels of internal conflict. meanwhile those two are just gabbing on about absolutely nothing of importance hfnshffn.

I love that you shared all this with me!! thank you!! I too can go on for days daydreaming of the lore and the webs and the intricacies!! come back whenever you want and leave more charming nuggets in my inbox ❤️

#asks #imperatorrrrr #actually that gif of nico and mitch marner got me good too bc I have such a soft spot for marner. chocolate lab and golden retriever energy #integrating this into my beliefs rn brb

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darknights04 · 1 year ago

Text

Wallpaper

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x fem!reader

Summary: Based on the song Wallpaper by Megan Cormwell. You and Sebastian had always been close until a new student transferred to Hogwarts. When the Yule ball arrives at Hogwarts, you seem to have no one to attend with. However, Ominis Gaunt, seeing how Sebastian has affected you, swopped in to save the day.

Warnings: None I think? Sebastian and MC being cold-hearted and straight-up rude. Fluffy/protective Ominis ❤

youtube

The Yule ball had finally come to Hogwarts with Christmas time fast approaching. Being from a pure-blooded family, you were not unfamiliar with balls. Even in the wizarding world, the social season was still in full swing when the term ended each year, leaving your parents plenty of time to throw you into ball gowns and parade you around like cattle for sale. So while the Yule ball would not be your first, it was the first you had been looking forward to. At least, that’s how you felt at the beginning of the year. When the new year started, it was no question that you and Sebastian would attend the ball together. You had not been courting in any sense of the word, but you had always been there for each other when it mattered. You had always been there to support him, and he you. But then, the new student transferred to Hogwarts.

Initially, you wouldn’t have batted an eye at Sebatian’s interest in the new student. In fact, you had encouraged him. But then he began to change. It started with missed study dates in the library. No big deal, Sebastian hated to study anyways. Then, it was missed meals. Maybe he slept in, maybe he forgot to do the assignment from the night before and needs time to make it up. No big deal. And then, you’d see them together. When Sebastian was supposed to be with you, he was with them. Every once in a while turned into every day of the week. It was like you didn’t even exist anymore.

Your breaking point was when he ran into you one night in your common room. After being ghosted so many times in the library, you moved your personal study session to the comfort of the Slytherin common room by the fireplace. It felt less lonely there. One day, Sebastian rushed in beside where you were sat. His tie was loosened and he was pacing back and forth, muttering incoherently to himself.

“Has something happened?” you had asked him after watching for a few moments. Something clearly had him bothered.

“Y/n!” he exclaimed in a tone of surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Studying,” you stated quite bluntly, motioning to your stack of books. “As I have every day for the last few weeks.”

After a few more paces back and forth and a deep sigh, Sebastian spoke again. “Can I vent to you for a moment?” he asked.

“You know you’re always welcome to.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking a deep breath as if to gather up all of his thoughts into something coherent. “I’ve just found out that MC has been fraternizing with goblins,” he spat with disgust. Your concern dropped slightly at the mention of their name.

“Really?” you had replied half-heartedly. It wouldn’t have mattered anyways as he didn’t seem to even hear you.

“Goblins! I mean can you believe it? Out of all the people in the world, they just had to ask a goblin for help. After everything? With Anne? At Gringgots?”

“Gringgots?” you interrupted. “What happened at Gringots? Did one of the workers do something?”

Sebastian, realizing his mistake, quickly put his hand over his mouth. “Forget I said anything,” he said quickly, beginning to leave the room.

“Sebastian!” you called after him. “Wait! Please!” He faltered for just a moment, his back still facing you as you spoke. “We used to tell each other everything. What’s changed? Have I done something?”

He sighed but still made no move to face you. “Just… please don’t tell MC I said anything to you, okay?”

You stood in silence for a moment, questioning in your head if this was truly happening. “O- Of course,” you managed.

“Thank you,” he said once more before going up the stairs to his dorm, leaving you alone by the fireplace.

Not only had he come to you to vent about someone else after not speaking to you in weeks, but he didn’t even seem to notice or care about your presence until you spoke up. At that moment, the common room had never felt so lonely.

---

It was finally time for the Yule ball and you had been dreading every second. Up until this point, you had not even thought about what was to happen now that you and Sebastian haven’t been speaking. You didn’t make the effort to secure another escort as it never crossed your mind. And no one cared to ask you since they too are used to assuming you and him did everything together. For a while, you had seriously considered not going to the ball at all. Why condemn yourself to seeing everyone else so happy? However, in the end, you decided that wallowing in your own self-pity wouldn’t do you any good either. Besides, as much as you complained about balls to your mother, you rather liked playing dress up for the night and getting to feel like a princess. Perhaps it would make you feel better in the end.

When leaving your dorm, you felt absolutely beautiful. It had been months since you wore anything this exquisite. With your hair done and a light tint added to your lips and cheeks, you did truly feel like royalty. All these feelings left you the moment you descended the stairs to the great hall.

The room was crowded, everyone who didn’t go home for winter break had been there, but your eyes were scanning the room for only one other. When you found him, your heart began to soar. He was looking at you with more love and adoration than you had ever seen before. You thought maybe this could be a turning point for you both. That was until his gaze moved, following another form coming down the stairs beside you. He was never looking at you, he was looking at them. You might as well not have existed at that moment, as his gaze went right through you like you were a sheet of glass. If not for your pride, you would have turned back to your dormitory at that same moment. But people were watching, and you wouldn’t let him get the best of you. Not this time.

When the dancing started, you couldn’t help but watch the two of them together on the floor. They moved in perfect harmony like they were made for each other. And you stood to the side, seemingly invisible to them. You felt as if you were blended in with the wallpaper. This was a new feeling for you. At your parents’ balls, you were the diamond of the party. Everyone wanted a dance with you. You’d never been the wallflower before. But here, you were untouchable. Hardly anyone would even spare you a glance.

Suddenly, you heard someone clear their throat beside you. “You look far too beautiful tonight to not be on the dance floor,” he said.

You turned and let out a small chuckle when you saw the voice belonged to Omins Gaunt. “And how would you know how I look tonight?” you asked him with a smirk. “It’s not as if you could see me and chose for yourself.” “No but I was standing next to Garrenth Weasly when you walked in,” he explained simply. Now it was he who sported a smirk on his face. “When he told Leander to look your way as well I could practically hear the breath leave their lungs.” At this, you weren’t sure what to say. As if he knew the effect his words had on you, Ominis simply held out his arm. “Now how about that dance?”

He led you to the center of the floor with all the confidence that a blind man could have in a room full of people. When the music began, he took his position across from you.

“Do you know this dance?” you asked him. He chuckled, though it sounded more like a scoff.

“You know, you’re not the only one of high social standing Ms. L/n,” he said teasingly.

You laughed. “Well, I wasn’t sure if your parents had still forced you to learn all of these ridiculous dances. Being blind and all.”

As the music started, you both began to move in sync with it, along with your other classmates in attendance.

“I have to admit,” he started, “I prefer dancing to most other day-to-day activities.”

“Is that so?”

Ominis nodded as he took your hand, twirling you as the music commanded before pulling you back to his chest, your other hand on his shoulder and his on your waist.

“Dancing is the one thing I don’t require guidance for, once I learned the steps. I know where I need to be at every moment in the music, and where everyone else will be at most any given moment.”

“That… actually makes sense,” you said with a small nod. “Why haven’t I seen you at any of our balls throughout the summer?”

“My parents didn’t see a point in bringing me,” he shrugged. “They figured you’d be courted by Sebastian as soon as we came of age.”

At the mention of Sebastian, you turned to see him dancing with MC. They looked so happy together.

“Do you think he’ll start to court them when the term ends?” you sighed. You couldn’t be upset.

No one stole him from you. He wasn’t yours to steal.

“Hey,” Ominis said, pulling you from your thoughts. He hooked his finger under your chin and turned your head to look at him. “Don’t think about them anymore. Not tonight. Just keep your eyes on me.”

You took a deep breath and nodded your head, continuing to move with Ominis. As the music crescendoed, everyone in the room lifted their partners into the air, the feeling of the wind brushing the peak of your cheeks was almost euphoric. For the first time in weeks, Sebastian was not the first thought on your mind. It wasn’t until this moment that you realized he’s been clouding your thoughts for far too long. The hope that maybe something romantic would blossom between you two kept you from seeing possibility in anybody else. But the truth was, Ominis had always been here on the sidelines. Waiting for when you needed someone to fall back on. The way you were feeling right now was how he felt every day you favored Sebastian’s attention.

When he pulled you back to his chest, you rested your head on Ominis’s shoulder and wrapped both arms around his neck, causing the boy to jum[ slightly.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

“For what?”

“For always being here for me. Even when I don’t notice right away. You’ve always been there for me.”

Ominis smiled into your hair, brushing it back slightly as he continued to sway you back and forth as you simply enjoyed one another’s embrace. As the current song ended, he pulled back from you so you could look him in the eye. “I will always be here for you,” he said, taking your hands again. The next song began to start up again and Ominis smirked, taking position for the next dance. “Now, let’s give these blokes something to stare at, shall we?”

You began to laugh as Ominis led you to the center of the floor, exaggerating each dip and stride to catch the attention of everyone in the room. You followed suit. As you both danced and twirled around the other, the rest of the room couldn’t help but stare and gawk at how well you complimented each other. Like you were made perfectly for the other. While Sebastian always seemed to outshine you, Ominis knew just how to make you shine brighter. Bright enough to catch the man in question’s attention itself. But you didn’t care. The way Ominis danced with you made any thought of Sebastian go from the back of your mind to not existent at all. A feeling that you never wanted to let go of.

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