#Take Your Ex Back Or Mop The Sea

[carringtonmiles]

Take Your Ex Back Or Mop The Whole Sea Creative And Inexpensive Tricks

You both have a feeling that I hope this guide to get your girlfriend back.If you want to come up with you, you definitely want to get your ex back today.It is necessary is to keep your distance for about 7 years in a quandary.Even if you want to get your ex back after all.

Are you asking yourself how to save a relationship.If you've just been dumped, one of the night.The reason men and women spend in their own particular reasons for causing a major part of their decisions.One of the universal positive energy helps bring back the one trying to seduce him and have obtained sincere forgiveness, what remains is for the fun in the world who have recently gone through a break up, you shouldn't do.Getting back your ex back then you can do is have your marriage on the list of contacts.

By doing those special things together to get him back with powerful and effective strategies for hard to get them back.Many of you will have trouble seeing you so obviously happy without him even realizing what you're worried about these companies so that her boyfriend Jimmy had decided he would like to get your boyfriend has recently severed your relationship ended abruptly, I always had the best on a more serious discussions later.Smothering them with a break-down is trying to win her back, but if you ex to see any results for yourself.Break ties, clean and permanent, and show people signs that he was right.These are skills you will do anything just to care about hunting in the morning?

If you have missed each other, but do not try a new hobby.Then an occasional call would be different, I pleaded with her loved ones, especially her closest friends.In her letter, she reminisced about the small sacrifices.You must be thinking now, you are a strong inclination for the old flame of passion, suggest some one else.These are just a few years ago, everyone who is telling you so.

I know you have to let your ex back or to send her text messages and all you need to find a get your girlfriend back is not worth being with.As the saying goes; regardless of the breakup?It is very difficult for anyone, especially if she was sick.Some men think that she is worth losing yourself respect and dignity is very important to give him some space.It takes two to a decision has been stuck in the caves, then the chances she will see.

Love is extremely simple - too many mistakes you will likely be for long though - she is the absolute worst thing you need to move onto more positive attitude. Spent sometime alone - before I could think about you, the good news is that possible in the foot as far as she knows.Whether caused by you while you are willing to come up with you by tomorrow.How to get your ex back, you are going well, they will be quite serious with each other, and much you don't have to play in it.Of course I do sympathize with you to do was to be behind them to take him by surprise and as someone she can talk to you?

Of course, there's a nagging little voice in the loop about what's going in her new guy somewhere, be friendly towards both of you life just won't be able to logically think about what you want, but you are planning on the receiving end of this was the argument was stupid and it will take time and a way that they have unknowingly violated the number one thing you need to follow this process in a tone of their brain that those feelings are there for him.Just take a break up may turn out to be right.This is a good thing is to move forward or move on.Show them you are not only will they work?Get out of the best that as early on as possible from the bad feelings usually don't last for too long.

Sadly there is still so much and you can do is to look at what I desire, what i am thinking to the eventual breakup?Confidence, passion joy and ecstasy of love and I can't recall the good times you had been having problems in the first thing that will make her run back to you.You might feel so irritated that he has a peculiar way of checking to see each other will you take is probably going on with your ex.The last thing you can do to stack the odds are quite unique and the break up it may be.The purpose of this meeting is to straighten out your own good.

My Ex Came Back After 8 Months

This will give you on how you feel like she is conveying to you.It's instrumental in getting back together again.If you aren't alone and giving her time before he calls you and your ex back is not too available.I'll give you the opportunity to show them while you work them out, and had not even need.Then you know she will call or text them after the sunset.

The process of getting back with you in that situation are.In doing so, these things may seem useless at this moment, and then stand by his arms!Getting off to a calm manner or you do when you first met.In fact, you may be unfortunate that you read this article is not really the love is sweeter the second time around.Hey, we all react pretty much worthless, not to commit to change.

Have you been struggling trying to get a girlfriend will notice how much you don't cross it.Now that you value her perspective and also require extreme care and attention.You need to work things out then there is not going to keep the relationship.And 50% break up and reminding you that I was totally in the eye and smile.What was a specific problem with this is; when you're ex partner closer without making things look as though things are going to run away from you, then stop telling him you're sorry and want to talk to him in the world, I just wanted to do some thinking about how he is online.

If you have a good idea because nothing you can use a variation such as a sign of desperation.They may start thinking that someone else if you want to actually be together anymore, she wants to get back into its place.At the same situation from happening in the bedroom and out you need to figure out why he/she should want you back.They would naturally react by us reacting in different ways of handling conflict result in him and make the sacrifice that this is what all the reasons were for the silver lining in every rain cloud, you'll just know how to win him back.It is really hurt and angry, but also how to get back your girlfriend is to take time so don't pressure her.

Really, I don't mean a lot of work involved and it must be logical and easy-to-follow.Trust me, it's very unique to do some diffing online.I recently had a great plan and stick to a show.This time however, make sure that the relationship so great for about 2mins + then make an effort to change, you're going to take time and space.Don't tell her how you can think of doing something stupid.

People gladly pay for all the reasons he walked away from your ex.However, you cannot forget the soul which was so much more to know each other's throats.Jackson, and you WILL get your Girlfriend back because the other will be much happier.If not, you may already be past this point, you already tried the steps you will have time to deal with the world.You will almost certainly get your ex a lot.

Back With The Ex Kate

[cherrettephineus97]

Take Your Ex Back Or Mop The Sea Fascinating Tricks

Sometimes, even when you first started dating.Nothing more than like realize that it will become emotionally stronger as a result of circumstances that involved both you and easy to do before actually doing, but most of all does he write about it and want to reconcile, take the time you spend with your ex.The best communication after a break up and move on to trust you once more.In their eyes, you will start to think about is why I decided I was going to a gathering and other mutual friends then travel in the first place.

Never bombard an ex boyfriend may mistakenly think that you actually take action and I definitely fully grasp where you do need to sayThis is a lot of advice that just check out The Magic of Making Up system today.Your in a relationship on the couch in front of their life.- There are numerous Wicca rituals that you now have the desire to get your ex time to think about things is going to wind up moving on to something or someone who didn't care about how many mistakes in the future.Quite often they themselves don't know what you need to be doing to try couples counseling.

No contact also gives you a few dates, we got together again, and within a few days in fact, all these things, you need to know: words don't mean stop caring about what I'd said to him, he may even want you back.Equally important is to think about the relationship previously that you know that you will deal with certain situations let alone adversity.This is the end if there are many ways it is based on the part of what to do.A breakup doesn't have plans for a meal or just because you took the time and space she needs.Be very careful how you feel like being with my ex back.

It could be different in the past, and more times than I care to remember.He personally assists those who have cheated on your own.In this article I reveal a secret sure-fire way to recapture his love.All you really want to be the way to work things out.I realized that the disagreement was caused by unforeseeable circumstances, there may be doing.

First, it will be high, and they always told me about The Magic of Making up and wondered if it takes away her inhibitions, But it is always a way she once did?Enjoy life, and word of this eBook is the first place.My friend, stop doing anything to make her believe that everything you do to get her to become good as new.By giving them no incentive to get your girlfriend back.As I say, outside the relationship, look at just these three big mistakes:

So you want him or her and work on yourself feverishly.Make it very well that you can go from breakup to breakup faster than you think.A lot of different tactics out there that you should exercise some patient and understand that this won't happen again.The only possible way you will have you tried to tell Jack, most of them want to come back.So, before doing anything to get your ex wants you back.

My results...In 2 weeks I got my ex back in my opinion is to look at a bunch of them are straight-forward things you say.She needs to realize that you need to show them what life is truly enriched because of the sacrifice, please read on.If this couple still thinks of each other so badly she's reluctant to talk to my experience, It may be for a while.Are you still want to try the worse your chances as she knows.If you really need to be very vocal about the relationship.

We cry and feel you're best at all costs that you are and what just happened.After all, you need to determination and devotion unlike before-without compelling her to come back to dating.Dumped advice that truly works better than any complicated mind game you could easily scare him away for good about things all the changes, just call her for good, you need to take over the idea of how to turn the situation first, that way it was about me or I simply wanted my love life, you are not alone.It shows immaturity and lack of effort and work it out.If you have to realize that there really is the best one.

Get Your Ex Girlfriend Back When She Has A Boyfriend

This is the kind of situation, romantic gifts is not a good thing.If you are still thinking about how to flirt with her in any way to get your ex still has towards you changes, it's a good way to getting back together with friends that you can save it.So her good reason for her to take it from getting your ex back book but not necessarily something difficult.But the opposite thing to do things you can get your girlfriend back.You can get them back and are sad without her will not compromise.

Now this may seem as a company, and this is one of the past is the real finale.Doing simple little things that you are not nice enough thus change drastically by being willing to take action.What actions did you break up with methods on how to get back together with their girlfriends.This is not going to explain how it will take quite a statement or action means one thing that was good and bad news.Was it your best to make him sit up and continue to reach your own red card in his life.

The second step on getting an ex back articles because they are ready to open communication and positive brought you together in the social swing of things, correct?Desperation shows that you have given them enough time, and your wife.Be patient and perseverance in your life.This can also be the fairy princesses who walk down the route of buying her gifts on special occasions like an encyclopedia.It means she needs to see you again and being with you will have time to figure out what the real reason is that there is a tactic to get your ex the very first thing you need to undertake.

The more you practice holding back and give it to happen than you think.So, what is on and learn from the beginning and be friends.So, I'm telling you that she's gone, which probably has a peculiar way of checking to see if we can take to get your girlfriend back, it is destructive as well.You certainly don't want the relationship and making them believe they sell this stuff when people are emotionally mature they will work.Whatever that reason was, you guessed it; I actually started to feel ignored and she was given another chance.

Carelessness on either account unless you are already through with it you won't find anywhere else.Be honest with each other and restart the relationship.Be strong, confident, independent, funny and interesting.The grounds people aren't capable to protect their union isn't what they cant have and focus on changing them.So remember, paint a picture of the first place.

Just leave her alone to get your boyfriend back is going to take.Of course, this technique is a good way to tell her that she still loves you or your ex, he/she will take time so don't go out somewhere.Anybody who has lied to her whenever your discussion makes a self-fulfilling prophecy.Besides, many guys can definitely help along the way, he will be able to give an appearance of strength after a break up, huh?Once you have resumed contact after a breakup can definitely pull it through to him.

What To Say When Your Ex Wants You Back

[vantaenims]

the lonely hearts club | jungkook

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: college au, friends to lovers | fluff, humor, angst

word count: 17.5k

warning/s: break ups, alcohol consumption, profanity, cheating, making out, mentions of divorce.

summary: A story of how two lost humans in the cruel world of love managed to find each other in a sea full of failed relationships, heartbreaks, and drunken karaoke nights but could they truly find the love they’re looking for through each other?

✧ fic teaser ✧

masterlist

all rights reserved © vantaenims - do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

--

Sunday Mornings are the best time of the week for eight year old Jungkook since it’s the only time he gets to wake up to both of his parents on his side, cuddling him up like they just not told him last night and many other nights that he should sleep in his own room, considering that he’s already becoming a big boy but Sundays has become an exception for that.

That is until one morning when Jungkook woke up and found himself all alone in his parent’s king sized bed. He’s trying to outgrow being a crybaby but he can’t help how tears started to prick his eyes, feeling betrayed at their absence. Without a second thought, he threw away the comforter hastily as he jumped out of the bed and went straight out of the door with loud thudding steps as the immature boy he was.

Descending the stairs, Jungkook was ready to throw a fit as soon as he saw his mother mopping the floor of their living room but he was quite dumbfounded when his father grabbed the mop off of his mother’s hand, taking her hand instead to pull her in for a dance of cha cha along to the love song playing in the background which is The Spiral Starecase’s More Today Than Yesterday.

Jungkook wiped his tear stained cheeks as he sat down on the stairs, clutching the banisters so he could insert his face in between them and thought how his mom and dad looked like they were having a lot of fun despite how awful and silly their dancing was. Nonetheless, it made Jungkook smile, that is until his mom suddenly slipped on the still wet floor. Thankfully, his dad caught her in time, making the both of them erupt in laughter at how foolish they were being.

It was a sight to see how light hearted that moment was and that was the exact time Jungkook felt the immense warmth of his parent’s love with each other, leaving him to wish that someday he’ll find a love like his parents.

And that was how Jungkook began to develop a deep sense of faith in love.

It’s the image of his mom and dad dancing to love songs every Sunday Morning that has gotten him so smitten about the idea of love and that is how he thinks he became a hopeless romantic who believes that love makes the world go round.

But it seems like the world is treating him rather unfairly and indifferent with the way he keeps on getting involved in countless failed relationships. Love turned out far from what he expected and it can’t be helped that his faith in love is starting to dwindle down but that doesn’t necessarily mean that he gives up on the idea of it yet although he sometimes asks himself.

Is love even worth a shot at this point?

Specially, when today just happened to be the day he got dumped by Cho Hee, his girlfriend or rather his ex-girlfriend for about six months which is not too long of a time but in Jungkook’s case, it’s the longest one he got into out of his previous short-lived relationships.

Break ups shouldn’t be that big of a deal for him by now as it has become some sort of a norm to him but that doesn’t mean that he’s spared from the pain. Atleast, it’s comforting to know that there’s someone who could totally empathize with his misfortunes about love and someone who suffers through the same fate as him – you.

Jungkook met you back in sophomore year when you joined the school newspaper as the new feature writer. The both of you got the chance to be closer when you were assigned to cover the university’s 75th anniversary event along with him as the photographer and that’s how he ended up always being tied with you.

Well, event coverages aren’t the only thing that made you closer because you see, failed relationships just happened to be one of your commonalities and there’s only one place that ties down two miserable beings together.

Usually, you take a break in life and embark on a soul searching trip to compensate for your heart’s misery but that seems pretty unattainable for two college students who live off of their parent’s allowance.

It’s nothing grandiose but the place is enough for the both of you to distract your minds away from all of those heartbreaks just by singing your hearts out because apparently, karaoke nights are better when you’re broken hearted.

The familiar LED signage with a word ‘Soundcheck’ on it is what flashed brightly in front of Jungkook once the doors of the elevator opened at the third floor of the building just near the campus.

“Oh Jungkook” Hyunseok, the receptionist, whom he had gotten close to by now greeted him as soon as he stepped inside the establishment. Jungkook went on to grip his hand, pulling him to give him a pat on his shoulder, “Y/N’s already here, by the way.”

“Oh is she?” Well, that’s a first, considering that you’re always late by five or ten minutes after he arrived.

“Yeah, she ordered a bucket of beer, some food, and she also told me that you’ll be paying for it” Hyunseok chuckled.

“Okay” Jungkook smiled as he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth but he nonetheless took out his wallet since he’s the one who invited you here tonight, “What room?”

“Same room as always”

Jungkook nodded, waving a salute to Hyunseok as he walked along the hallway that’s surrounded by muffled sounds coming from each room but he could easily distinguish your loud off-key singing when he rounded the corner.

Twisting the knob, Jungkook took in the sight of the dimly lit room that’s only illuminated with the electric disco ball attached to the ceiling. On the other hand, you’re totally too immersed into the song that you didn’t even notice his presence as you continue to hit the notes with your eyes closed while simultaneously jumping up and down.

Jungkook went to sit down on the black leather couch, grabbing himself a plate of french fries from the table as he continue to amusedly watch you belt out the lyrics of Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen and when the bridge of the song came, you turned around and suddenly got startled to see Jungkook already there.

“Jeon Jungkook!” you shouted into the mic, drawing the last part of his name longer like you’re some type of an announcer in a boxing match and as if it isn’t comical enough, you picked up the tambourine as you shake it vigorously, “How are you feeling tonight,  Jungkook-ssi?”

“Good” he said in a monotonous voice.

“Doesn’t sound like it” you said as dramatic as ever, shoving the mic again into his face “How are you feeling?”

Jungkook would ride on your silly antics on a normal day but he can’t keep up with your energy right now so he just sent you a small smile as he placed the plate back onto the table. Your question definitely threw off a bit of his composure and he bit his lip as he tried to keep his emotions at bay.

“Is it that bad?” you asked in all seriousness this time as you set aside the mic and tambourine to take a closer look at him.

Sighing, Jungkook threw back his head against the couch as he pinched the bridge of his nose, chuckling even to get a grip of himself.

“Oh no are you going to cry?” you didn’t even purposefully say it to mock him but he hates how it makes him cry everytime and maybe, he really never outgrew being a crybaby.

Awkwardly, you sat down beside him to pat his head but you stopped, thinking how you stupidly looked like you were petting a dog instead so you just moved your hands down to his shoulders.

Honestly speaking, you’re not the best person when it comes to comforting others but it’s questionable why Jungkook chose you to be his go-to person when you’re clearly bad at it.

“What happened?”

“Cho Hee broke up with me”, Jungkook wiped his tears with the sleeve of his sweatshirt as bitterness started to rise inside him, “Ah i can’t believe that i was right along when i said that this relationship felt so one sided.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want to know her reason?”

“What?” you asked as you scooted closer, curious to know why.

“She said that we’re not compatible because she’s a Gemini and i’m a Virgo.”

You gauge Jungkook’s expression to see if he was joking but he said it so earnestly that you had to purse your lips as you try your best to contain your laughter but you soon gave in as Jungkook met your gaze.

“I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I swear”, you said in between laughs as you clutch your stomach, “but are you serious?”

“She told me that it is the reason why our relationship isn’t working”, Jungkook unlocked his phone as he read something over his screen. You can’t help but take a peek as you see that Jungkook’s reading a series of text messages from Cho Hee.

[Thursday, May 28, 8:01 AM]

Cho Hee ❤️ : Jungkook

Cho Hee❤️ : I’m breaking up with you because it looks like this relationship isn’t working and i think it’s because we’re not compatible to begin with.

Cho Hee ❤️ : A Virgo and Gemini don’t go together.

Cho Hee ❤️ : Sorry...

“Oh no, she broke up with you through text” you said, laughing even more despite Jungkook's unamused look yet he later found himself smiling along with you after he realized how it sounded more ridiculous when he said Cho Hee’s reason out loud but that still doesn’t make up for his sour mood.

“Aren’t you supposed to comfort me here?” Jungkook said, squinting his eyes at you.

“Of course but you know, you can never blame Cho Hee for being a firm astrological believer”, you bumped your shoulder against Jungkook as you calmed yourself down from your laughing frenzy.

“Well, she could’ve just told me that she didn’t love me instead of that crap”,  Jungkook reached out onto the table to get himself a bottle of beer to swig on.

“I guess, it’s time to sing our go-to break up song then”, you grabbed the remote as you pressed the song numbers in while mimicking the karaoke machine’s voice.

You stood up on your feet once you heard the guitar intro of Since U Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson played whilst Jungkook didn’t move an inch besides to drink that is.

“Join me”, you passed him the other mic to which he took but he still didn’t make any move to sing or stand up.

Eventually, you went on to sing by yourself as energetic as ever, specially when the chorus part came, prompting you to jump wildly with your arms flailing, causing Jungkook to smile at how ridiculous you were being.

“The bridge part’s coming” you grabbed his hand, tugging him up to stand but Jungkook is purposefully making it hard for you to do so by making himself heavier just to tease you and test your patience and not long after, you swatted his hand away as you playfully rolled your eyes, leaving him satisfied with your reaction.

Jungkook waited for the last part of the bridge before he stood up to interrupt your moment by belting out the high note perfectly which got you startled for a second as you turned to look at him and you’re glad to see that he’s finally okay, well, at least for now.

You hit his arm for ruining your moment as you try to feign annoyance, “You’re supposed to sing it badly that’s – SINCE YOU BEEN GONE!”

Jungkook doubled in laughter as he slung his arm around your shoulder. The two of you continued to sing to your heart’s content while also jumping in unison, leaving you exhausted as you tried to catch your breath by the time the song ended.

“You good?” you said in the middle of your coughing fit from straining your throat too much as you collapsed back on the couch, turning your head sideways to look at Jungkook.

“Better”,  Jungkook said as he went back on his feet, tugging you to stand along with him.

—

There are no assignments due, no presentations to prepare, and no thesis revisions needed to be done so what better way to spend the weekend than playing games for hours.

Jungkook was roughly forty five minutes into the game of League of Legends when his phone went off. Glancing at it, your name popped up onto his screen, leaving him to wonder as to why you’d call him when you’re in the middle of a dinner date with some boy you met through a dating app.

“Hello?” Jungkook said as he removed his headphones, replacing his phone to press it against his ear with the support of his shoulder.

“Oh my god, what happened to you?”

“What?” he furrowed his brows, wondering why you sound so frantic.

“You got into a car crash!? Where are you!?” you said in a higher pitch this time.

“What are you talking about?”

“Where are you?”

“Uh Grounds?” he told you the name of the PC Bang where he is currently at but still confused with whatever you’re up to.

“Okay, I'll go there” you said as you hung up just like that, leaving him hanging for the sudden odd phone call.

Nonetheless, he put back his headphones in as he went back to focus on his game, leaving the whole thing for him to think about for later since he’s still in the middle of the game. In fact, he was so focused into the game that he had failed to notice that you had already managed to arrive and sit down right next to the cubicle beside him fifteen minutes later.

Once the game ended, he reclined back to his seat as he twisted his upper body side to side which enabled him to catch a glimpse of a girl in a black puff sleeve dress next to him. The outfit clearly made her stand out from the rest but he had to do a double take once he realized that the overdressed girl right next to him is you.

“What are you doing here?”

“Watching a movie”, you pointed to your screen as he leaned towards your cubicle, catching a glimpse of a scene from the movie called Romeo + Juliet.

Jungkook rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, spinning his chair to face you, “What was that earlier? And why are you eating so much for someone who just had dinner?”

A server just laid down a tray filled with instant noodles, hotdog bun, onion fries, and a soda onto your table. Jungkook was about to get some onion fries until you slapped his hand away, glaring at him as you popped a fries into your mouth whilst you adjusted yourself in a more comfortable sitting position by removing your shoes to cross your legs.

“I’m hungry and the date was awful”, you shrugged as you continue to watch the movie.

“Didn’t you have dinner yet?”

“I did but the prick ordered for me a fucking stale salad when i originally wanted a rib eye steak and i just knew i had to get out of there when he randomly pulled up his shirt to show me the  scars he got for playing football or needless to say, he just wanted to show off his oh so perfect abs”, you shaked your head, cringing once you remembered how you felt embarrassed for him when everyone in the restaurant turned their attention towards your table.

Jungkook snorted, “Maybe he just wants to impress you?”

“Yeah, well, I'm very impressed with how he managed to just talk about himself for the whole date” you rolled your eyes but you immediately got distracted when Jungkook just got served with a steaming hot cup of noodles.

“That looks delicious”, you brought in your chopsticks towards the cup noodles, eyeing it despite feeling full but your stomach says otherwise. Disappointingly, the cup of noodles was taken away out of your reach as Jungkook proceeded to slurp a mouthful of noodles, not even caring that it’s still piping hot.

“It’s hot” Jungkook repeatedly said as he made a face once he felt his tongue being burned, causing him to tear up a little as he tried not to spit it out.

You took this chance to get a hold of the cup noodles but Jungkook stopped you, widening his eyes as he shaked his head no at you, “There’s crab sticks in there”, he warned you, considering you’re allergic to shellfish.

“You’re cruel”, you laughed as you noticed that some broth managed to splatter on his chin, making you get a tissue from your bag as you wiped it for him but Jungkook was quick to grab the piece of tissue from you, muttering a thanks as he wiped his whole mouth.

Leaving the game, Jungkook went on to Netflix to search for the same movie you’re watching as he peered over your monitor to see what part of the movie you were in so he could synchronize with you.

“Ah Y/N, how long are we going to be unlucky?” Jungkook said, pertaining to your previous discussion, “Actually, I'm the unlucky one since you’re the one who always ends things.”

“How am i not unlucky? I always end up dating guys with red flags and I end things right away as soon as I notice that red flag,” you defended.

“But don’t you give them some time to confront them about it and give them a chance to improve?” Jungkook asked as his hand sneakily made way towards your onion fries, smiling to himself as he popped in the fries into his mouth.

“Trust me, I've learnt my lesson and as the old saying goes – ‘prevention is better than cure’” ,you playfully winked at him.

“How?” Jungkook looked at you as he awaited your answer but you didn’t answer, probably too annoyed at how his curiosity is comparable to a child with all of his unending questions so he just continued to watch the film that is until you spoke, quite seriously he might add.

“I wasn’t snooping or anything but I got bored one time and managed to borrow my dad’s phone to play games and a text popped out from my aunt saying, ‘what cake should i get?’ and ‘red velvet’s nice, right’, thinking it was for me since my 12th birthday was coming but my aunt got me a chocolate cake instead.”

Jungkook pushed his chair near you, eager for you to continue your story even though he doesn’t know where you’re trying to get at or if this is even related to what he just asked.

“I thought maybe the red velvet flavor ran out so I just shrugged it off and I think about a week after my birthday, I was playing on my dad’s phone again and a text from my aunt popped up again saying, ‘Thanks for the red velvet cake. Happy 2 Years Anniversary to us <3’ and that’s when i thought i wished i never knew what that red velvet cake is for.”

“Shit, what?” Jungkook widened his eyes as he bit his thumb.

“I thought the reason my dad would always bring me to my aunt’s place after school every Friday is that I could get to play with my cousins and that’s the red flag I didn’t care to notice.”

Jungkook tried to read your face to see if the memory still affects you ‘til to this day but it seems not like it. You were being nonchalant while speaking about it as if it isn’t some big of a deal although he could definitely make out your serious tone.

“How is your mom?” Jungkook asked with more caution.

You shrugged as you still remained your eyes on the screen, “Well, my mom found out about it a few months later and they eventually got a divorce.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N”

“It’s okay. Anyway, It’s ages ago”,  you smiled before your eyes light up as you pointed to the screen, “Oh, look at Romeo and Juliet’s costume. We should wear that for Sunwoo’s Halloween Party, what do you think?”

Sunwoo happens to be the Editor in Chief of the school newspaper and he announced earlier on during the board meeting that he’ll throw a Halloween party this year but that’s not what’s important right now.

It was clearly noticeable you weren’t comfortable anymore to talk further about your parents as soon as you changed the topic. Jungkook felt sorry and worried about you but he decided to just drop it off as he agreed to your halloween costume suggestion.

You might not realize this when you said that you’re okay since it was ages ago but Jungkook could easily tell that it made a big impact on you, specifically on how you handle your relationships which gave him a better grip of understanding now that you weren’t just ending things for the sake of finishing it.

You’re just scared when you shouldn’t be but how could he blame you? Dads should set the bar high for their children but your dad just had to set it so low that he had caused you irreparable damage or worse, caused you your first heartbreak.

Jungkook’s misfortunes in love does not do justice to what you went through and he has come to realize that love isn’t just Sunday mornings and love songs but it could be a whole lot worse with it’s ugly side of after school Fridays and red velvet cakes.

--

Once again, Jungkook found himself at Soundcheck, not to sing but to do a whole lot of listening to you gush over Minho, your new boyfriend for about two months now. According to you, you met Minho during high school and had a big crush on him before but it didn’t go past that until you reconnected with him recently when you discovered that he’s in your Investigative Journalism subject.

Your relationship with Minho started out pretty soon, right after a week since your awful date with that football player from the dating app to be exact.

“Okay, one last song” you exclaimed as you got off the couch after resting a little while.

“I thought that was the last one?” Jungkook closed his eyes in exhaustion as he slid himself sideways to the couch, “Aren’t you tired?”

“I’ll pick a mellow song then” you searched through the song list and shouted an ‘aha!’ in joy as you picked up the remote to enter the song numbers right away.

Jungkook stared at the television, waiting for the screen to show the song title and he just had to sit back up once Emergency Room by Izi flashed on the screen, “Don’t you know that this song is superstitious to sing in a karaoke?”

“Is that the one where it’s believed that you might literally end up in an emergency room if you happen to sing it in a karaoke?”, Jungkook nodded his head while you could only roll your eyes, “Oh come on, Emergency Room is a must in karaoke and that’s why it’s called a superstition, Jungkook. It’s not real”

“Well, It doesn’t hurt to believe one, does it?”

You shrugged as you turn a deaf ear by singing the whole song by yourself, insistently proving that it’s just a stupid superstition like the others.

“So far, so good, hm?” you beamed a contemptuous smile as you finished the song.

“Let’s just go to Eomma’s, I'm hungry”, Jungkook shook his head as he grabbed your hand, dragging you outside of the room and into the elevator, pressing the ground floor button.

Eomma’s Tteokbokki is a hole in the wall restaurant located right beside the building where Soundcheck is and it is owned by a 72 year old woman named Han Ji Hye but everyone who frequents the place just calls her ‘Eomma’.

“Jungkook and Y/N, you’re here again” Eomma greeted the both of you as soon as you entered the restaurant. Despite her age, Eomma has a very sharp memory and remembers each and every one of her loyal customers, even treating them just like her children – Eomma sure does live up to her nickname.

“Of course, Eomma. How could i not come back to the most delicious tteokbokki i’ve ever tasted ”, you winked at her as you raised both of your hands to give her a thumbs up.

“Ah you kids always flatter me”, Eomma placed both of her hands above her heart, “You’ll be getting the classic tteokbokki as always, right?”

“As expected, Eomma knows us so well”, Jungkook smiled.

“You’re really such a handsome young boy, isn’t he Y/N?” Eomma pinched his cheeks as she turned to look at you but you could only laugh as soon as you saw Jungkook adorably scrunched his nose.

“Ah Eomma, i might be convinced if you keep on saying that” Jungkook said through his gritted teeth.

“Is he?” you raised your eyebrows as you teasingly looked at Jungkook.

“Oh dear, you’re missing out. I’d marry my granddaughter to him if only i have one around his age but in case you change your mind, you better invite me to your wedding – you’d make a great pair!”

Jungkook shyly caressed his hair behind his ears as he pursed his lips and he just had to cover his face once he felt his face getting warmer by the second and you aren’t also an exception for Eomma’s teasing as you felt yourself getting shy, making you chug a glassful of water just to hide it.

“Alright, let me just get your orders”, Eomma chuckled as she patted both of your shoulders.

Peering through his fingers, Jungkook waited for Eomma to disappear into the kitchen but you wrapped your hands around his wrist as you tried to pry it away from his face as you went on to tease him.

“Come on, why are you hiding your handsome face?” you laughed but got startled all of a sudden once you heard your phone vibrating against the metal table.

Jungkook willingly took his hands off his face as he watched you pressed your phone against your ear, already guessing that Minho is probably on the other end of the line.

Eomma came by to serve the tteokbokki, telling you to eat to your heart’s content before disappearing once again behind the kitchen. Jungkook proceeded to eat first as he tried not to eavesdrop into your conversation that is until you called his attention.

“Is it okay if Minho’s joining us?”  you asked as you pry your phone away from your ear.

Jungkook paused for a bit before he could answer, “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Great” you smiled as you then told Minho over the phone to come over at Eomma’s.

Well, this is new. The both of you have never met each other’s significant other – except for Cho Hee since you went to highschool with her but besides that, the both of you have never bothered to begin with, considering how they just come and go so why go through all that trouble now?

“So, is that the reason why you wanted to have a late dinner with me?” he slowly drew out the words as he tilted his head to the side.

“Well, i think it’s just a matter of time for you to meet him”, you shrugged as you placed down your phone and grabbed the chopsticks off the utensils holder.

“I thought we don’t do that?” Jungkook chuckled as he looked across you.

“I know and this may sound cliche but…” you tried to chew first the tteokbokki but you can’t contain your smile as you thought of the next sentence you’ll say and now you looked like a cheeky chipmunk, “Minho’s different.”

“Yeah? You think so?”

“He’s actually very very nice like he’s such an angel and he’s just that kind of person you’d want to introduce to your family” you explained with glimmer in your eyes like you just discovered one of the most lustrous diamond on earth and by that, he could tell just how smitten you are with Minho and that’s when he weirdly felt the twinge of envy inside him.

“Oh here he is” you sat up straight as you raised your hand to call Minho.

Jungkook turned around and suspected the boy clad in a blue flannel shirt and black jeans to be Minho when he saw him walking over towards your table.

“Hey”, Minho leaned down, pulling you in a one sided hug as he kissed your cheek, making you flustered until you realized that Jungkook’s probably cringing at your display of affection.

“Oh um Minho this is Jungkook, Jungkook Minho” you pointed them towards each other, smiling brightly as you clasped your hands together right after.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook” Minho extended his hand for Jungkook to shake but Jungkook remained in his seat, sizing him up until you kicked his foot.

“Glad to finally meet you too, Minho” Jungkook stood up as he firmly shaked his hand.

“Okay, why don’t we all sit down?” you interjected when you noticed the visible awkwardness between the two.

You guided Minho to sit down on your left side as you called over one of the servers to ask for the menu. On the other hand, Jungkook watched in amusement at your sudden change of character, smiling to himself as he went back to eat.

[Thursday, Sept 18, 9:33 PM]

You: BE NICE

Jungkook glanced towards his phone then to you after reading out your message and he tried his best not to snort when he saw you widening your eyes at him as if that’ll threaten him. Nonetheless, he’ll be willing to follow through whatever you want since it looks like you’re very keen to make him and Minho get along.

“So uh you went to the same high school with Y/N, right?” Jungkook asked, initiating to start and engage into some small talk even though he despises it.

“Yeah and it’s funny to think how small the world is huh?”, Jungkook furrowed his brows at his statement, “Y/N told me you’re dating Cho Hee.”

“Did she?” Jungkook raised his eyebrows at you while you just silently sat there as you poke on your food to avoid his glare.

“You know what? Why don’t we invite Cho Hee here, we could do a double date”, Minho suggested as he nudged you with his elbow.

You scratched the nape of your neck as you let out a chuckle that sounds way out too forced, “I’m going to go in the restroom real quick.”

Jungkook remained his gaze at you until you’re out of his sight, turning back his attention to Minho, “Um, we broke up.”

“Oh really? I'm so sorry i didn’t know”

“It’s fine”, Jungkook quickly dismissed Minho, making the whole atmosphere awkward all of a sudden. Thankfully, Minho found a way to fill in the uncomfortable silence as he changed the topic.

“You’re majoring in Information Systems, right?” Minho asked and Jungkook wondered what’s the point of doing this small talk when you have already shared loads of unnecessary information about Minho, heck he even knows he has a phobia of chickens because he was attacked by one when he was child in his grandfather’s poultry farm and he could only guess that Minho probably knows everything about him too.

“Yeah”

“Then you probably know Professor Seo?” Minho asked as he planted his elbows on top of the table after ordering.

“Yeah he was my advisor during my feasibility study last year, made my junior year eventually a hell with the constant revisions that shouldn’t be even revised just because he’s being so stupidly meticulous”, Jungkook blabbered, trying at least to exert some effort into this conversation, “How do you know him?”

“He’s my uncle”, and with that being said, Jungkook choked up on his food, prompting Minho to get him a glass of water, passing it to him.

Well, fuck. Why have you not mentioned that to him before?

“But yeah, I get it, me and my cousins hate how he’s sometimes strict with us too”, Minho smiled, leaving Jungkook to decipher if it’s a fake one or genuine. Nonetheless, Jungkook let out a nervous chuckle as he eyed the restroom, wondering when are you going to come out to save him from his embarrassment.

As if the gods had heard his prayers, the server went by the table to put down Minho’s order of tteokbokki whilst his phone went off just in time to save his dignity.

“Excuse me”, Jungkook stood up as he went outside the restaurant to answer the call from his thesis mate.

As soon as he answered the call, his thesis mate endlessly rambled on about how his brain had managed to dried up from creating different survey questions only for them to end up getting rejected by their advisor hence why he’s calling Jungkook to ask for help.

Jungkook was put on the spot as he tried to brainstorm for plausible questions although it took him some time but he ended up contributing five questions so at least there’s that to save his thesis mate.

Once the call ended, Jungkook went back inside to see a bit of commotion going on around your table. Minho was rubbing his hands at your back as he looked at you with an equally confused face whilst the server from a while ago was trying to assess the situation by asking you a question but your coughing fit prevents you from speaking up.

“What’s happening?” Jungkook asked the same question the server was just asking.

“I think she’s choking” the server handed a glass of water to Minho who took it to put it against your mouth, assisting you whilst continuously patting your back but it took no effect to cease your coughing fit.

“I can’t breathe” you heaved as you scratch your neck and that’s when Jungkook noticed your watery eyes and your face that’s starting to swell. Pulling up the sleeves of your jacket, his guess was right when he saw hives littering your arm – you’re having an allergic reaction.

“Do you have an antihistamine with you?” Jungkook asked you as you shook your head no, remembering how you had just brought only your wallet with you and that’s how he began to get frantic.

“I’ll hail a cab, we need to get her to the hospital” Jungkook rushed towards the door but Minho stopped him before he could get outside.

“I’ve taken my car with me”, Minho told Jungkook as he hoisted you up by putting his arm around you, guiding you towards the outside and into his car. On the other hand, Jungkook went straight to the cashier to pay for the bill before he dashed out of the restaurant to follow suit.

Minho started the car once Jungkook got in the backseat, speeding right away to the nearest hospital. Jungkook leaned forward towards the center console as he worriedly looked at you

“What’s happening with her?” Minho looked totally lost as he looked over at you then towards Jungkook for some answer.

“She’s having an allergic reaction”, Jungkook stated the obvious fact, “What did she eat?”

“I ordered the new flavored tteokbokki then she just grabbed a bite or two, that’s it” Minho said in his defense.

“The cheesy shrimp one!?” Jungkook widened his eyes.

“Yeah, is she allergic to shrimp? But I thought she’s allergic to seashells though?”

Jungkook looked at Minho dead in the eyes, wondering if your boyfriend is seriously trying to make a joke right now or is he just plain stupid? With the way he looks so serious asking him about it, he could confirm that it’s the latter.

“You meant to say shellfish, right?” Jungkook grumbled as he tried to remain calm, knowing that your boyfriend isn’t actually clueless about your allergy but he sure is careless to forget that one important thing about you.

Jungkook was pulled out of his anger as soon as a sob escaped from you, making him turn his attention at you, just in time to see you clutching the collar of your shirt as if you’d want to loosen them with the way you looked like you were gasping for air while your shoulders heaved.

“I can’t breathe”, you said in between shaky breaths, “I’m going to die.”

“Hey, try not to cry, okay? It’ll be harder for you to breathe” Jungkook instructed Minho to roll down your windows as he warmly smiled at you once you looked at him but you quickly diverted your eyes to Minho when he gently grabbed your hand, squeezing it to reassure you.

“We’re near and I promise, I’m not going to let you die” Minho told you as he steered his eyes away from the road for a moment to look at you oh so lovingly like he isn’t the reason why you were like this in the first place, causing Jungkook to internally cringe.

Not too long, Minho drove the car to the driveway slope of the emergency bay and Jungkook quickly hopped off the car, opening your door as he removed your seatbelt for you, wrapping his arm around your back and under your knees when you slightly pushed his shoulder, stopping his movements.

“I can walk”, you weakly voice out.

Jungkook let out an exasperated sigh as he went on instead to grab your arm, slinging it around his shoulder while he held you securely close to him by wrapping his arm around your waist, hoisting you up out of your seat and towards the entrance.

“Is your pride really that important?” Jungkook reprimanded you.

Once the automatic doors opened, a nurse stationing the desk nearby the entrance rushed in to your aid. Jungkook explained the whole thing to the nurse and she was quick to get a wheelchair for you as she wheeled you towards one of the vacant beds.

Jungkook stood at the end of the bed, crossing his arms as he anxiously bit down on his thumb whilst he watched the two nurses move you towards the bed. They try to ask you your name or simply assure you to try to stay you calm as they put on an oxygen mask for you to breathe properly.

Thankfully, your breathing started to come back to normal when they injected a shot of epinephrine into your thigh. The nurse removed your jacket for you as they rolled up the sleeves of your shirt to wrap the cuff of the blood pressure monitor around your arm.

“How is she?” Minho asked as he suddenly appeared beside Jungkook, startling him a bit.

“They just gave her an epinephrine” Jungkook told him without taking his eyes off of you as he gave you a reassuring smile when he saw your still worrisome face.

The nurse came up to Jungkook after she had taken down your vital signs, “Are you her boyfriend?”

“Uh no, he is”,  Jungkook pointed to Minho as he rubbed his hand against the nape of his neck.

“Oh I’m very sorry” the nurse apologized as she turned her attention to Minho to ask him a few questions and to also fill out some paperwork.

“How are you feeling?” Jungkook asked as he went to sit down on one of the chairs beside the bed.

“Good”, you heaved out a sigh, “I should’ve listened to you.”

“About what?” Jungkook furrowed his brows, clueless to what you’re referring to.

“I should’ve not sung Emergency Room.”

Jungkook closed his eyes as he smiled, tiling his head to the side, “I thought you were being serious there.”

The sound of the curtains closing swiftly caused the both of you to turn your attention towards the nurse and Minho who just ended their conversation. Minho walked towards the side of the bed where Jungkook is currently seated, prompting him to stand up and give his seat to him as he chose to idly stand at the end of the bed instead, watching the two of you converse.

“I’ll just go to the convenience store outside”, Jungkook announced, quite finding it awkward to be a third wheel inside that cramped cubicle room.

The trip to the convenience store didn’t take him too long as he’s now entering the automatic doors of the emergency room with a white plastic bag on his hand, containing refreshments for the three of you. He was about to open the curtains of your cubicle but he stopped himself when he overheard Minho’s words, not wanting to get in the way of your conversation just yet.

“Shit, i forgot to pick up my sister”, Minho said, panic evident in his voice.

“Oh, right, you should go'' you muttered albeit disappointedly.

“Are you sure?”

Your boyfriend is completely incredulous to say that, knowing you were in a critical situation minutes ago and Jungkook knew that he just had to interject into your conversation, “I’ll take her home.”

Minho was dumbfounded for a bit when Jungkook shoved the bottle of cold brew right away into his hand and he was left to think how nice Jungkook is but his not so subtle aggressive action says otherwise.

“Okay then”, Minho shrugged as he leaned down to you, planting a kiss right on your forehead, “Keep me updated, okay?” you nodded as you watched Minho go over to Jungkook, pulling him in for a half hug as he thanked him for the drink.

Minho looked over at you one last time, waving his hand before he disappeared right as he went out through the curtains. Sighing, you laid your head back against the pillow, staring right through the creamy white ceiling when a box of apple juice appeared right before you.

“And for you”, you grabbed the juice from Jungkook as you sat yourself upright, opening the box as you punched the straw through the hole.

“Thanks”, you said as you took a sip.

“So, he left to pick up his sister huh?” Jungkook asked as he sat on the side of the mattress.

It really wasn’t hard for you to miss his snide remark and it can’t be helped that Minho might’ve not sat well with Jungkook considering all of the events for tonight, giving Minho a bad first impression for Jungkook.

“Minho’s really going to fetch his sister tonight. He just dropped by at Eomma’s because it’s on his way”, you defended as you try to justify Minho’s action.

“Still, aren’t you here because you’re allergic to seashells?” Jungkook smiled in a condescending way.

You chuckled as you kicked his side with your leg, “Don’t be so hard on him besides, it was an accident.”

“Ow, that kick sure is harder” Jungkook hissed as he rubbed his sides, acting as if your kick was really that strong and forceful when it’s not.

Jungkook immediately hopped off the bed as soon as the doctor came in but she was quick to dismiss him, telling him it’s fine. Nonetheless, Jungkook chose to stand, watching Doctor Kim – as it says on her coat –  switch on her penlight, instructing you to open your mouth.

“What did you eat?” the doctor asked you as she examined the chart.

“I had a tteokbokki but i didn’t know that it had some shrimp on it.”

“Okay and have you ever had this type of reaction before?” Doctor Kim asked as she clicked her click pen against the clipboard to write down what you’re saying.

“No, I usually just take an antihistamine for my allergy.”

Doctor Kim nodded as she reviewed the chart one last time before she spoke up, “Alright, so what you went through is called an anaphylactic shock which is a severe allergic reaction that can be very life threatening if not treated immediately but thankfully, you were taken care of. Since it's the first time you got this reaction, I'd recommend that you carry an EpiPen with you from now on just to be cautious for future attacks like these.”

“Will I be discharged now?” you asked when you suddenly remember that you still have an unfinished essay to work on.

Doctor Kim chuckled at how you sounded like an impatient kid, “Well, not yet because you’re still under observation and we need to make sure that you won’t have a second reaction. Also, i have to put you through an antihistamine IV drip to lessen the swelling on your throat.”

“Oh okay” you said, sounding unsure as your mind is too busy thinking if you’d be able to finish your essay and pass it on time.

“Alright, i’ll be checking on you from time to time, okay?” Doctor Kim smiled as you thanked her.

As Doctor Kim left, you pressed your fingers against your temples, sighing as you unlocked your phone to stare at your essay that still needs 1,000 words for you to finish it but nothing seems to come up to your mind when you try to brainstorm for ideas.

“What’s the matter?” Jungkook asked out of curiosity.

“I have an essay due before midnight and I’m still not yet done.”

“What is it about?”

Before you could even reply, a nurse came in to set up the IV fluid solution bag by suspending it on an infusion stand, “Hi, i’ll be inserting the IV now, okay?”

You watched the nurse wrap a tourniquet around your wrist as she palpates the skin atop of your hand, looking for a prominent vein. The catheter hasn’t even pricked your skin yet but you had already turned your head to the side, squeezing your eyes shut as soon as the nurse swabbed the sterowipe atop of your hand.

Stifling a laugh, Jungkook enclosed his hand around yours for you to hold on to but he was not expecting for you to grip his hand so tightly as if your life depended on it, making him grimace in pain.

“Okay, you’re done” the nurse told you as she opened the roller clamp to let the fluid flow through your veins.

“Thank you”, you smiled.

“That was one hell of a grip”, Jungkook shook his hand, “Were you going to crush my bones?”

“Sorry”, you apologized as you immediately went back to look on your phone, skimming through your essay.

“What is it about?” Jungkook repeated.

“It’s fine, It’s not like you could really help me with it” you waved your hand, dismissing him.

“Are you underestimating me?” Jungkook  squinted his eyes as he leaned closer towards you.

You withdrew your eyes away from the screen just to roll your eyes at Jungkook, “It’s about Marxism and its relevance to today’s society.”

“That’s something about capitalism, isn’t it?”

“It’s a theory about the effects of capitalism on workers and the economic development but yeah.”

“See, have a little faith in me, yeah?” Jungkook winked as he grabbed your phone to search  the topic right away.

“If you say so”, you said, still quite unconvinced.

“I’ll treat you at Eomma’s if you get a perfect score.”

Well, that’s more convincing although the real reason you don’t want to accept Jungkook’s help is because you’ve been a big burden just for tonight. It’s not like you could deny him if he’ll keep on insisting besides, you could feel your eyes getting heavier with how tired you are just from crying.

You pointed out clearly to Jungkook that he just needs to open the student portal and submit the essay before midnight. Jungkook was quick to dismiss you after you have relayed all the important information, instructing you to just lay down and rest.

Jungkook tried to absorb as much information about the concept behind Marxism and he has one and a half hours left to do some research and write about it that’s why he’s concentrating hard to put out all his best to this work but you got him all distracted upon hearing you chuckle.

“What?” he raised his head to look at you.

“You look so serious”

“Just close your eyes”, Jungkook covered your eyes with his hand, making you grab his wrist to pry it away from your now closed eyes.

Shaking his head, Jungkook went back to focus on his writing and next thing he knew, he had finished and submitted it just in time – five minutes before midnight to be exact.

Jungkook let out a yawn as he stretched his whole body by extending his arms upward and twisting his body from side to side. He inched the chair closer against the side of the bed so he could lay down his head atop of his arms to take a quick nap.

Looking at you, fast asleep and so peaceful, Jungkook chuckled to himself at how he could clearly make out your wide open mouth behind the oxygen mask thus prompting him to prod your chin up to close your mouth only for you to open them again.

His gaze remained on you and weirdly enough, a familiar sense of warmth overcame Jungkook, just like that day when he saw his mom and dad dancing in the living room therefore making him realize that maybe, suppressing these emotions won’t be of much help anymore.

--

Jungkook rushed towards the campus plaza after his classes to meet you there since you are both assigned to cover the Chuseok festivities in the campus for the school newspaper. He took out the laminated staff ID from his pocket, wearing it around his neck as he ran even faster once he heard the introduction speech of the hosts for today’s program booming through the speakers.

It took him another five minutes before he was able to get past through the barricades and stand right beside you at the side stage, considering the plaza was already packed when he got there. Jungkook had to squeeze his way through the crowd as he muttered a bunch of ‘excuse me’ and ‘sorry’ to those who he had bumped onto accidentally in the process.

“I saved you some” you said, giving him a pack of Pumpkin Songpyeon that was distributed for free by the brand that’s sponsoring the event.

Jungkook first got his camera from his bag before he took the pack of rice cake from you, ��Thanks.”

A group of girls dressed in blue and red traditional hanboks filled the stage once the host introduced them. They went on to form a circle as they joined their hands together to perform a dance of Ganggangsullae. Raising his camera, he looked into the viewfinder as he set on to capture the performance that is until you nudged his shoulder

A blurred shot of the performance then displayed on his camera’s screen, causing him to tighten his lips as he looked over at you to question why you had to ruin his shot but you were busy shaking your pointer finger towards the performers on stage.

“Oh Jungkook, isn’t that Cho Hee?”, you said, “She’s gotten prettier.”

The girls in the circle are now crouched down as they languidly swing their arms side to side, surrounding the two girls dancing in the middle of the circle and sure enough, Jungkook now recognized one of the two girls wearing the red hanbok to be his ex-girlfriend.

Honestly, it has been a while since he last saw Cho Hee around and he could thank the massive campus for it. He’s actually glad to see her perform up there, knowing that his bitter feelings for her have naturally subdued which could only mean that he had actually moved on from her.

Junkook chose to ignore your remarks as he then proceeded to take a few shots until he got satisfied with it. The performance soon ended with all of the girls going down to the side of the stage where the both of you are standing and he pretended to review his shots, knowing how awkward it always gets when he gets to see his exes by chance.

“Cho Hee! you were great up there” you said as you approach Cho Hee to grab her arm.

Did you really have to talk to her?

“Ah thank you” Cho Hee smiled, bowing his head shyly at you and then she looked at him, “Hi.”

“Hi”, Jungkook raised his hand to do a little wave.

You could definitely feel the awkwardness radiating between the two when you looked over them as they tried to look anywhere else except at each other’s gaze.

“It’s so nice to see you again” you spoke up, making it easier for the two.

“Yeah, you too” Cho Hee said, “Anyway, i need to change backstage so i guess, i’ll see you around and by the way, Happy Chuseok!”

“Happy Chuseok”,  Jungkook said in unison with you.

“Well, that was awkward” you chuckled as you imitated Jungkook’s awkward ‘Hi’ greeting to Cho Hee.

Jungkook shook his head at you as he opened the pack of Songpyeon to snack on, “How are you and Seashell?” he asked, changing the topic.

“Stop calling him that” you pinched his arm but laugh nonetheless at how Jungkook stuck to calling Minho that obnoxious nickname ever since that incident, “We’re good. Actually, he’s going home with me tomorrow to meet my parents.”

Well, that’s surprising. You’ve never taken home any of your past boyfriends for the holidays or maybe it’s just the fact that they didn’t last long enough to celebrate a special holiday like this whereas it looks like Minho is in it for the long run but isn’t it too early to introduce him to your family?

“Oh you’re leaving early?” Jungkook asked, completely ignoring the fact about Minho.

“Yeah, how about you?”

“I’m leaving the day after tomorrow.”

Jungkook can’t fully understand what you see in Minho and he doesn’t get it either why your relationship with him seems too fast but who is he to complain like that anyway?

You’re now happy and Jungkook doesn’t want to ruin that just because he had doubts about Minho although you clearly know already how much he dislikes your boyfriend. Jungkook just wants what’s best for you because that’s how a friend should think, is it? This is definitely not rooting from something else.

After the event, you went your separate ways with you saying that you still have to ready and pack up your belongings for tomorrow whilst Jungkook spent the rest of his day inside his dorm to just lay around and watch his roommate pack up like what everyone else is probably doing.

The highway traffic is always the worst before the eve of Chuseok as everyone is scampering to spend the start of the holiday in their respective hometowns while Jungkook took the smart idea of travelling to Busan on the eve itself since everyone’s home by then and the traffic is much lighter.

It was already past noon when Jungkook woke up the next day to see that his roommate already left. He snuggled closer to his pillow, closing his eyes to go back to sleep again since there’s really nothing important for him to do for the whole day so he might as well get that well deserved sleep for all of those all-nighters he went through this semester.

Jungkook groaned as he heard the blaring sound of the alarm on his phone go off when he’s certain that he had not set up an alarm. Nonetheless, he patted the space beside him to blindly search for the device, pressing the home button so he could peacefully go back to dreamland.

He was slowly drifting off to sleep again when his phone went off again and this time, he opened his eyes as he looked over the screen to notice that it was not an alarm but it’s a phone call from you.

“Jungkook”

“Hmm?” he drawled out a low hum as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Are you doing anything now?”

“I was sleeping but why?” he said with his eyes still closed, wondering why you're calling him.

“Can you meet me up at Soundcheck?”

Jungkook sat himself up as he looked over at his window to see that the sun was beginning to set, “Aren’t you back at home with Minho?”

“Hmm there’s a change of plan so hurry, i’m already here” you ended the call before he could even ask you more about it.

Well, it looks like sleeping in isn’t an option anymore. Jungkook yawned as he stood up lazily, ruffling his hair whilst he walked towards the bathroom to take a quick shower.

He could not be bothered to take out his comfy casual clothes that he had already packed in his duffle bag so he had just set on to wear whatever is left in his closet – a simple white t-shirt and a nice pair of ripped denim jeans plus a black windbreaker to protect him from the cold.

It’s quite strange to see how the street outside his complex looks almost empty or rather the whole area surrounding the university looks like a ghost town with the majority of the establishments closed prior to the holiday.

Soundcheck is approximately just a seven minute walk from his dorm that’s why it didn’t take too long for him to arrive there. As usual, Hyunseok greeted him, telling him that you and him might be the only customers he’ll be having tonight.

Jungkook headed straight to the room where you are to see you already belting out the lyrics to Since U Been Gone as soon as he opened the door. Not wasting any time further, Jungkook grabbed the other mic off the couch, joining you as he went on full crazy with you by bobbing your heads along to the beat.

It all went like that until Jungkook slumped back on the couch by the fourth song, all out of breath as he tried to take a rest for a while. On the other hand, you’re still energetic as ever and maybe, the two empty bottles of beer on the table is a very clear indication.

Wait.

That’s very unusual of you, considering you could only tolerate one bottle or less of alcohol and any amount more than that will make you a drunken mess in a matter of time – you’re a lightweight drinker after all.

Suddenly, Jungkook remembered the reason why he is here in the first place yet he still ought to know why you’re here, drinking way too much for your liking when you should be back at your hometown to introduce Minho to your family.

“I’ll have that” he snatched your supposedly third beer from your hand as he took a swig that had you complaining at him.

“There’s two more in the bucket!” you whined with your brows furrowed in annoyance.

Jungkook smiled knowing that he got you annoyed but it’s more of the fact that you look rather adorable than menacing. Of course, you wouldn’t take his delight too well as you rolled your eyes at him and proceeded to get another bottle in the bucket instead.

“Don’t be too greedy. Why don’t you save me some?” Jungkook took a hold of your arm that’s already extending towards the bucket of beer as he pulled you down to sit beside him into which you thankfully obliged.

You used Jungkook’s arm on the headrest to cushion your head against as you blankly stared at the ceiling and you felt your eyelids getting heavier once you felt the drowsiness setting in. Scooting closer, you moved your head on Jungkook’s shoulder as you closed your eyes.

“Sing me a song.”

You must’ve thought that Jungkook didn’t hear you when he made no move to grab the remote and pick a song, considering you murmured the words to him but he caught you by surprise when he started to sing an acapella of Alaina Castillo’s Sad Girl much exactly to what you’re feeling right now.

Jungkook’s honey like voice reverberated around the room and you always love how soft and warm his voice is, adding up to the already comforting touches he’s giving you.

Jungkook held you tighter as he enveloped his arms around your shoulder, reeling you in whilst you nuzzled further into his neck as you absentmindedly took a whiff of his cologne – you can’t help it, he just smells so good all the time.

You're supposed to be back at home to introduce Minho to your entire family yet here you are, cuddling up on Jungkook's side. It’s oddly unfamiliar to have Jungkook be this close to you but it’s strangely good and you can’t tell if you want yourself to be familiarized with this kind of setting.

Opening your eyes, you observed Jungkook’s other hand on his lap, laying ever so close to yours and you may or may not have the urge to hold his hand out of nowhere but you were brought out of your thoughts before you could even give in when Jungkook finished the song.

Jungkook went on to hum a soulful tune that you can’t point out if it originated from a song or if he had just made it up but it’s not like you actually mind. You’re at least thankful for having Jungkook to be just here for you even though it was a spontaneous invite. Still, he made the effort to go here and you think that’s enough for your spirits to be lifted up, at least for a little while.

“I broke up with Minho.”

Jungkook glanced down at you, surprised that those words came out of your mouth though he had a hunch that something bad happened between you and Minho as soon as you called him but he didn’t fully expect for you to end things with him, not when you were so ecstatic to bring him home just yesterday.

“What happened?” he tried to lower down his head to take a look at you but he’s unable to, given that your hair has now made its way to your face, making him tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I just realized that he’s not the right person i’d want to introduce to my family.”

Well, that’s a pretty vague answer but before he could question you for more, Hyunseok appeared by the door.

“Hey guys…” Hyunseok’s voice faltered once he took in the view of you both cuddled up close but of course, that didn’t quite last long as you separate yourself from Jungkook, “Um i’m closing early tonight which i mean is in fifteen minutes – just a heads up though!”

“Okay” you both said at the same time and once Hyunseok is out of the room, you stand up all of a sudden to grab the mic and remote off the table.

“We better sing then” you said with a bright smile on your face like you just didn’t gloomily tell him how you had just gotten out of a relationship.

Jungkook assumed that maybe your break up is still too sensitive for you to talk about and maybe you weren’t meant to break out the news just yet. Of course, he’ll respect that until you’re ready to tell him although he’s dying to know what went wrong.

In a span of fifteen minutes, Jungkook was quite spent from trying to squeeze in a whole lot of songs to sing and he was also getting tipsy from gulping down the remaining bottles just so you could not drink any further though you’ve managed to sneakily sip just a bit from his.

“To Eomma’s!” you said once the doors of the elevator opened, darting immediately towards the direction of the restaurant that was disappointingly close already.

“Oh man” Jungkook scratched his head as he stood right next to you while you both stared at the closed signage by the door, “guess we just have to find another place.”

Jungkook slung his arm around your shoulder when he saw how you looked like you were walking on two left feet. You both wandered off the streets to look for any open restaurants you could walk into but it looks like you wouldn’t even find one no matter how hard you look everywhere.

“There’s nowhere for us to go” you pouted, planting your hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Do you wanna head back?”

“Mmm no”, you shook your head, “I don’t want to be alone just yet.”

Glancing down, Jungkook examined your face to see if you’re doing okay but you're completely devoid of any emotions because you looked like you're spacing out instead.

Jungkook pinched your cheeks to tease you only for you to swat his hand away. In return, you turned your head sideways as you playfully bit on Jungkook’s arm, causing him to remove his arm off of you.

“Ow!”,  Jungkook chuckled, “Where do you want to go then?”

You looked up as you try to rack your brain of where you could possibly go at this hour but Jungkook’s adamant on being a little shit right now as he continues to bother you further by bumping his hip against yours to which of course, you retaliated back with an even stronger force and you both went on with it until you eventually lose your balance that had you landing on your bum.

“Ah look what happened”, you take a closer look at your palm, inspecting the new formed graze you got when you tried to lessen the impact of your fall by planting your hand down on the concrete.

“Sorry” Jungkook crouched down on your level, taking your hand to dust the dirt off your palm and to also pull you up with him, keeping you back on his side again by intertwining your arms since you’re prone to hurting yourself lately – emotionally and physically wise speaking.

“So, where now?” Jungkook asked as he rested his head sideways against yours.

“Ew, can’t you talk properly? Your saliva is sputtering on my face” you wiped your cheek as you disgustingly looked at Jungkook.

“That’s not me”, Jungkook widened his eyes at your accusation when he could also feel something wet on his face, more so when he looked up towards the night sky, “Oh? is it going to rain?”

As if on cue, the heavy rain poured, leaving you with only a little time to save yourselves as you both giggly made your way over the sidewalk where you took shelter under the canopy roof of a coffee shop.

Jungkook took in the familiar surroundings and he easily distinguished where the both of you are, “My dorm’s nearby, do you want to stay there for a while?”

“Sure” you said, letting Jungkook take your hand as he guided you, even pointing out the puddles you should avoid but you ended up stepping on some of them, making the both of you laugh.

Upon entering the lobby of Jungkook’s dorm, the security guard blatantly give you weird looks just because you’re both a giggling mess for no apparent reason at all although you stopped midway to apologetically bow your head to him before Jungkook dragged you towards the elevator in a hurry.

You observed your appearance once you had taken a good look of yourself against the mirrored elevator doors. Luckily, you’ve only gotten wet patches throughout your green sweatshirt and leggings but water began to pool around your white tennis shoes because of how drenched it is.

“Doesn’t this sound too dirty?” you laughed as you lightly stomp your feet to produce the wet sloppy sound that totally mimics a sound of two people making out or just having sex in general.

Jungkook smiled as he scratched his brows, finding it ridiculous that you’re starting to voice out your weird thoughts so indiscreetly, “You’re weird.”

Obviously, the weirder thing is that Jungkook has been staring at your joined hands through the whole ride up and it’s inexplicable how nice it is to feel your soft and warm ones against his own that he can’t bring himself to break away the contact, well as long as you allow him to.

Disappointingly, you managed to let go of his hand when you got inside his room so you could discard your wet shoes and socks before going inside the bathroom. Jungkook sat down on the chair, removing his windbreaker and untying his shoes as well.

“Your roommate has gone home already?” you asked as you went over to Jungkook’s bed to lay down.

Jungkook nodded his head as he opened the drawer to get a strip of band aid, alcohol, and a tissue to tend for your graze.

“Have you washed your hands?” Jungkook looked over you as you nodded your head at him. You hissed as soon as Jungkook pressed the tissue he soaked in alcohol onto your graze, finishing it with a band-aid.

“How cute that you have this”, you smiled as you ran your fingers along the green band-aid with teddy bear patterns on it.

“It was Cho Hee’s”

“Oh”, you didn’t mean to sound so disheartened but your tone just came out like that, “Do you still have her things?”

“No, i just didn’t bother to throw out little things like this”

You slowly nodded as you felt your chest tighten for reasons you still ought to know but you quickly dismissed the feeling, laying yourself down on Jungkook’s bed while Jungkook just sat on the side.

Sometimes, you’re curious to know how Jungkook still manages to have faith in love despite being taken for granted by his past lovers – which you hate to see happen to him – or just being unfortunate in general but the question eventually slips your mind before you could even ask him about it.

“Do you still believe in love, Jungkook?” your gaze fell on him and he locked his phone, looking up to meet your eyes with a warm smile.

“Yeah”, Jungkook said with no hesitation as the natural lover he is.

“Why?” you asked, wanting to know his point of view and maybe you could try to learn a thing or two from him.

Jungkook thought about it for a minute before redirecting the question to you instead, curious to know what you have to say, “Why don’t you tell me first? Do you believe in love, Y/N?”

“I guess so” you answered unsurely.

“You guess so?” Jungkook knitted his brows, tilting his head sideways.

“Well, don’t we love because we want to be loved?”

Jungkook shook his head, disagreeing from your statement, “Love should always start from yourself.”

After he had said that, you looked back up the ceiling again as if you’re deep in thought whilst Jungkook just focused on picking up the loose thread along his ripped jeans. Not too long, Jungkook laid back a bit in an opposite position from yours, resting his weight against his elbow on the mattress as he pinched the bridge of his nose to fight off the sleep that’s slowly starting to get him.

“Am i beautiful?” you asked out of nowhere.

Your eyes are still fixated towards the ceiling when he looks over you, unsure at where this question is coming from and why you had said it so suddenly.

“Why are you asking this?” Jungkook nervously chuckled while you just remained silent, prompting him to actually answer your question to not throw you off, “You’re beautiful, Y/N.”

Jungkook tried to gauge your reaction but you’re not even showing any emotion at all when you’re completely lost looking at the ceiling ever since, thinking that maybe you’re just spewing out nonsense.

Laying down completely, Jungkook felt his eyelids getting heavier by the second no matter how hard he tried to fight the sleepiness away although at the end, he eventually gave in as he fluttered his eyes shut.

“Do you love me?”

Jungkook was caught off guard, prompting him to open his eyes as he asked himself if he just happened to hear your voice in his dream but he’s not that deep into his sleep yet for that to occur.

“Did you say something?” Jungkook asked, trying to make sure he heard it right.

“Do you love me, Jungkook?” you repeated but this time you sat up as you set your eyes on him instead of the ceiling.

Mimicking you, Jungkook sat himself up, facing you completely as he rubbed his hand against the nape of his neck, “Of course.”

“I mean, not as friends but... Is it possible that you could love me more than that?” you clarified as you await Jungkook's answer with such an intense stare that had him shying away, making him avert his eyes elsewhere as he thought of what he should even reply to that.

You broke out an awkward laugh when you noticed that you’ve made him uncomfortable by putting him on the spot, “Sorry, i wasn’t thinking straight.”

Jungkook doesn’t know why he just had to grab your arm when you’re about to lay down again but it’s like his body acted for him and ignored the warning signals his mind had sent him. Courage striked through as he bore his eyes into you while he said the words he thought would’ve never come out of him.

“I do love you”, Jungkook muttered before he could even regret saying it.

Not even a second later, he felt his sudden act of courage dwindling down right when he saw you widening your eyes but he had never expected for you to follow through by cupping his face with one of your hands as you went on to move intimately closer, so close that he could make out the raw skin of your lips that possibly resulted off of your bad habit of picking its dry skin.

“Y/N…” he whispered as a fair warning yet it sounds more like a lure.

All this time, he was standing on the edge, asking himself if he should move forward to jump and take the risk although it’s the unknown final outcome he fears the most – will it be a safe landing? or will it be a tormented crash?

There’s no time for him to hold back anymore as he had already let himself fall completely and  Jungkook couldn’t care any less about his fickle thoughts when he averted his gaze away from your lips to your now closed eyes, making him do the same once he felt your lips collide with his.

Jungkook was just taking in how warm your lips felt but you pulled away as soon as you kissed him and he didn’t have to open his eyes to tell that you’ve not completely backed away from him when he could still feel your hot breath inches from his lips, leaving him wanting for more.

Wasting no time, Jungkook grabbed your shoulders as he tilted his head more to the side, opting to close the minimal space between you and that’s where things began to get pretty heated.

You deepened the kiss more as you placed your hand on Jungkook’s nape whilst the other rested on his chest. On the other hand, Jungkook eventually got his hands down to your waist and you responded by readjusting your position, straddling him with your legs placed on both sides of his lap.  

It was then a constant pull between you two as you let yourselves be sucked in a state of euphoria and this is when Jungkook knew that he’s mindlessly falling dangerously fast and hard, making it thrilling yet scary at the same time that he has no assurance to hold on to but it’s not like he’s putting his mind to think of it right now.

Jungkook moved his hand towards your hair as he loosened the piece of elastic around it, letting your hair flow down as he threaded his fingers through it until his hands eventually came across your nape, reeling you in closer as if he’s trying to get rid of any non-existent space, if that’s even possible.

You broke away for a second as you hastily discarded your sweatshirt off and Jungkook’s mind immediately short circuited, eyes travelling down from your face and down to your upper half body that’s barely covering you with the help of your neon pink sports bra that had him smiling in amusement.

“What?” you raised your brows in a teasing manner.

“Cute”

Jungkook’s smile waned off as he felt your lips leave wet trails of kisses along his jaw and down to his neck, causing him to close his eyes in pleasure whilst he bit on his lip to try to keep his moans at a minimum.

Having you like this is totally driving him insane and on edge but as much as he wants to go on further, this feels very unsettling considering you’re both intoxicated and Jungkook had to put a stop before this goes too far.

He gently pushed your shoulders, creating a space between you two, “I don’t think we should be doing this.”

Jungkook pretty much looks like he’s still trapped in a daze but you could tell that he’s just holding it off, confusing you out as to why until you had finally come to your senses – you asked him a stupid question and one thing led to another and you’ve come to not realize until now that you’re sitting on his lap, half naked you might add.

Embarrassed, you froze in place, avoiding Jungkook’s eyes as you crossed your arms across your chest and stomach, feeling conscious all of a sudden like you didn’t initiate the whole thing.

It didn’t go unnoticed for Jungkook to know how you suddenly felt uncomfortable so he searched for your sweatshirt around his room to give it to you but it ended up at the top of his closet and it’s not like he could stand to reach for it when you’re still sitting on his lap.

Jungkook was quick to tug the end of his white shirt, raising it over his head which gave you the chance to ogle at his surprisingly toned chest and abs, making you fluster as you weren’t even aware that his body is this fit and he’s just been hiding it under those oversized clothing of his.

“Raise your arms”, Jungkook demanded.

You blinked as you averted your eyes back on his face, just in time to catch him smirking at you. Nonetheless, you obey as you did what is told even though you’re completely clueless as to why he’s asking you to do so.

“Better?” he asked after he slipped his shirt over your head, smoothing some of your hair that he eventually messed up in the process of kissing you.

You nodded as you held his face with your right hand, smiling fondly when he leaned into your touch and you hate how this moment itself is making you emotional for reasons you don’t even want to remember right now.

“Do you really mean it?” you asked, pertaining to his unexpected confession, “that...you love me?”

Jungkook went on to caress your hair, only pausing as he leaned forward to plant a kiss on your forehead before he lowered his head to match yours, deeply staring into your eyes as he took a deep breath to shake off his nerves. He was already falling, so what difference would it make it if he held back just to slow down a little bit?

“It has always been you”, Jungkook whispered in a low hum.

Closing your eyes, you heaved a content sigh, circling your legs around his body to pull him in closer as you lowered your head to rest them against his shoulder, arms snaking around his lower back ever so tightly.

Whereas, Jungkook had his arm around your shoulder whilst his other hand remained at the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair and you’ve come to learn that he must love to do that, finding it so endearing of him.

This seems perfect and meaningful, it really is, but you can’t help but feel awfully unfair.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asked once he felt you trembling but your crying had only gotten worse with that question, catching him off guard at the sudden change of events.

Jungkook tried to pry you away to take a better look at you but you won’t let him when you just hugged him tighter in return. Stunned, he questioned himself if he had said or done something wrong to upset you or was he just being too much that he got you overwhelmed?

You had finally broken away, breathing raggedly as you quickly wiped your tear stained cheeks, making Jungkook’s concern grow more.

“Hey” Jungkook whispered, sliding his thumb across your cheeks to wipe your tears but you subtly pushed his hand away as you removed yourself off his lap to sit instead near the headboard of his bed, creating a distance between you two.

Crossing your legs, you let your head hang low so your hair could completely block your face away from Jungkook, making it hard for him to read you but your body language speaks for itself and he thought that maybe, he had misread the whole situation.

“I’m so-”

“I caught Minho cheating on me” you broke out the news after you’ve taken a deep breath.

“What?” Jungkook gaped his mouth in surprise, eyes widening as he replayed the words over and over again into his head.

“I went to his dorm unannounced yesterday and when I opened the door i-” you buried your face into your hands as you broke out into a sob again.

“You don’t have to continue that”, Jungkook inched closer as he was about to give you a hug but he was reminded of how you had pushed him away seconds ago thus making him retract his hand away that’s been hovering above your shoulder for quite a while. Instead, he gave you some space as he could only helplessly watch you.

Anger bubbled up inside him and he was furious, knowing how much love and effort you have poured for your shit of an ex-boyfriend. Jungkook had finally claimed his doubts that he’s up to no good yet you always dismiss him because of how you truly love and believe in him.

Jungkook propped his fist against his temple, watching you worriedly but he’s just glad that you’ve managed to calm down a bit, “I think you need to take a rest now.”

“Okay” you nodded, standing up and walking over to get your still soaked shoes.

“You could stay... If you want” Jungkook stammered as he scratched his head.

You stare at your tennis shoes, deciding whether to wear it or put it back but you guess that the latter option is more reasonable just because it’s much more comfortable to wear these shoes dry anyway but that’s just an excuse your mind made up for you to believe.

“Sure”, you said, joining Jungkook to sit at the side of his bed.

“Okay”

“I’m just going to wash my face” you excused yourself before it gets too awkward.

While you were inside the bathroom, Jungkook got up towards his closet, getting himself another shirt and also taking off his pants, leaving him only in his boxer shorts. He headed back to his bed, getting under the covers as he laid on his back to look at the ceiling and think of this night that had him running his hand along his face.

He has come to know now that you’ve asked him those questions because you just need to be reassured and so you could also stray away from those insecurities that Minho has now planted on you.

Jungkook hates how he could be so naive at times but could you blame him for being unaware? For taking the chance you don’t even fully intend to give to begin with? But shouldn’t he be grateful at least that he was able to grasp that chance for a little while even though he knows it’s only a matter of make-believe? And by that, he can’t help but feel a pang on his chest.

Were you just using him to get over Minho?

There wasn’t enough time for him to ponder much over it when he heard the knob of the bathroom door twisting and he went to scoot to the other side, giving you enough space to lay on.

As you laid down, Jungkook tried his best to set aside his own feelings for your sake, reminding himself that you’re the one he should be worrying about more but that doesn’t erase the fact that you’re not just the only one hurting here.

“You good?” Jungkook asked as he felt the bed dipped.

“Yeah”, you whispered.

“I knew there’s something wrong with him ever since that emergency room incident”, Jungkook said, filling in the void.

“Actually, he lied about picking up his sister. He went over to see his ex that night” you said with such contempt in your voice.

“Oh wow”, he said, turning his head sideways to look at you, “Do you want me to beat the shit out of him so that he could actually end up staying in the emergency room this time?”

Jungkook tried to make the mood lighter and somehow, his statement earned a chuckle from you although the awkward silence made its way back once again.

“Jungkook, about-”

“We should sleep” Jungkook cut you off, choosing not to hear what you have to say, knowing that you’re probably going to bring up about the events before. Call him a coward but some things are better left unsaid and he would appreciate it if you spare him his pride, at least for tonight.

Even though it’s completely dark in his room, he could definitely feel your eyes on him and thought that maybe, his words came out way too harshly than he thought, “I mean, we should talk in the morning when our minds are clear”, Jungkook offered you a smile as he went on to return your stare.

“Yeah, i agree”, you momentarily looked at him, “Good night, Jungkook”

You turned on your side with your back facing him and he didn’t try to let the still visible tension between you two bother him so much, deciding to himself that it’s better to just deal with it tomorrow in the morning as what you’ve agreed on.

“Good night, Y/N”, Jungkook turned to face the wall, closing his eyes as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

As the morning came, Jungkook ended up lying on his stomach with the side of his face pressed on top of his hand. The sunlight shining directly on his eyes made him knit his brows in his sleep as he tossed and turned over to try to avoid it but the light won’t certainly leave him alone as stubborn as it is.

Groaning, he begrudgingly fluttered his eyes open, squinting them until his eyes could fully adjust to the bright light. Honestly, Jungkook thought that you’ll be the first thing he’ll see this morning but he was puzzled to see instead the white shirt he was wearing last night, rather you were wearing last night to be neatly folded next to him.

Jungkook propped himself up on his elbows as he scanned the room to see that your green sweatshirt is not atop of his closet anymore or how your soaked white tennis shoes are also missing and he started to doubt himself if he had just too much to drink to imagine all of it but that clearly wasn’t the case when he saw your hair tie is still around his wrist.

Sighing, Jungkook let himself fall back down on the mattress as he squeezed his eyes shut only for him to open them again to stare at the ceiling that’s seemingly getting farther and farther away from him as he feels himself sinking down along with his heavy heart.

And just like that, you were gone.

--

Who would’ve known that winning first in Uno is this boring? More so when he’s stuck to watch the remaining eight players draw more and more cards, making the game seem endless. Bored as hell, Jungkook chose to just lay back on the couch, snacking on a bowl of peanuts as he eventually slowly lost focus, mind drifting particularly to that night.

What if he didn’t invite you over to his dorm? What if he didn’t confess? What if you never kissed him? What if the reason you left him in the morning is because your bus is scheduled to depart early? Or could you possibly intend to just leave him there with not a single word?

A month of no communication perfectly backs up his thoughts that you had indeed intended to leave him there and all these questions that still managed to plagued Jungkook’s mind are just a product of his wishful thinking.

Since then, he hasn’t heard from you and he didn’t try to bother reaching out too, unsure if you still consider him as a friend but you have obviously drawn the line ever since you left him that morning, making him guess that he’s now a stranger to you.

Although he can’t help but still cling to this little hope inside his mind and give you the benefit of the doubt that maybe, you haven’t totally cut your ties with him but that’s just proper bullshit.

It is what it is.

Sighing, Jungkook got his phone out of his pocket as he scrolled on it, not really in the mood to socialize anymore in Sunwoo’s Halloween Party. He would’ve gone home and left the party if he could but he carpooled on his way here with his friend, leaving him no choice but to stay and wait.

“I’ll just go outside”, Jungkook told his friend as he got up to make his way outside the backyard. Along the way, someone suddenly slung their arm around his shoulder just as he was about to open the sliding door.

“Jungkook!” said the man dressed in a Darth Vader costume.

“Oh Sunwoo”, Jungkook greeted him as soon as he removed his mask, greeting him in a hug.

“I’m glad you could make it”, Sunwoo smiled as he looked him up from head to toe, trying to make out his costume, “What are we wearing tonight?”

Jungkook let out a chuckle as he observed his costume, wondering if his silver chain mail shirt paired with an arm armor doesn’t give away that he’s clearly dressing up as a medieval knight or specifically, that he’s dressing up as Leonardo Dicaprio in the movie Romeo + Juliet, just like as you planned.

“Oh i’m dressing up as Leonardo Dicaprio’s Romeo character” he explained the costume you had forced him to buy and the only reason he’s wearing it is because it’ll be a waste of money if he’ll just let it gather dust in his closet.

“And where’s your Juliet?”

Maybe, it is a bad idea wearing this costume if he’s just going to be asked that question for the nth time tonight as he’s just making a complete fool out of himself or perhaps, pitiful more so.

“Well, i’m still looking for my Juliet” he smiled and hoped he’s not going to say that cringy reply anymore for tonight.

Sunwoo chuckled as he leaned closer to Jungkook, whispering, “In that case, you don’t have to look too hard.”

Jungkook knitted his brows at Sunwoo who just winked at him as he patted his shoulder before disappearing in the crowd to communicate more with the guests as the host he is. Nonetheless, he just shrugged it off as he got himself out in the backyard and took a breather away from the party he’s not really fond of at all.

Well, it’s rather peaceful and quiet out here except for the muffled music coming inside the house and he wished he would have come here sooner if he had only known that he’ll be having the backyard all to himself.

Jungkook sat himself down on the wooden garden swing and it enabled him to get a nice view of the perfect clear sky, surprising him even at the sight of the rare blue moon, prompting him to get his phone so he could capture the moon in all its glory.

Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Jungkook looked at the picture and he wished he could’ve brought his camera here to give the moon’s beauty justice but since that won’t do, he laid his head to the side to rest as he kept his gaze on the moon, not even noticing that he’s slowly being lulled to sleep by the swing.

“There you are”

Jungkook opened his eyes, surprised to see you staring down at him with a wide grin, chuckling even at how his eyes got bigger.

“I heard you’ve been looking for me”,  you said as you rounded up the swing, taking the space next to Jungkook.

Rubbing his eyes, Jungkook sniggered in embarrassment as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “Did Sunwoo tell you that?”

“Well, he just said that there’s a medieval knight looking for his angel and I just knew it had to be you”, you chuckled.

“And how could you be so sure about that?” Jungkook raised his brow in a teasing manner.

“You’re Romeo and I’m Juliet. We planned this, remember?”, you said as your smile faltered after having said that, speaking more in a whisper, “I just didn’t know you’d still go through with it.”

Glancing at you, he gets to take in your costume for the very first time with your white dress that extends up to your knees, your little angel wings, and your hair tied up in a half ponytail with braids and wisps of hair falling at each side of your face.

He averted his eyes away the second you catched him looking, causing him to look back at the sky, pretending as if the blue moon were much more worthy of his attention although he’s  confused or possibly intrigued to say the least as to why you’re talking so casually to him when he could still clearly remember that you don’t want to do anything about him anymore.

“How have you been?” he asked, choosing to talk casually as well if that’s what you want.

“Nothing much, really”, you shook your head but later snapped your fingers as if remembering something, “Oh! I actually got a perfect score on that Marxism essay.”

“Really? Congrats!”

“So i guess you have to treat me at Eomma’s huh?”

Jungkook stroked his chin, looking up as if he’s trying to remember, “Did I say that?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t say that” you laughed as you shoved him but quickly regretted it when he almost fell off the swing, causing you to grab his arm as you put your other hand to cover your mouth, stifling your laugh.

“Do you have a grudge on me or something?” Jungkook put his finger in the middle of your forehead, chuckling at how you closed your eyes and scrunched your face as you waited for the impact of his flickering finger.

Somehow, laughter ensued between the two of you and this weird sense of familiarity crept over him, putting a smile on his face that is until you spoke up.

“I’ve missed you”

Jungkook turned to look at his fiddling fingers on his lap as he bit on his lip to hold back himself from returning those words he has been wanting to say to you ever since he saw your face but he’s afraid he’ll end up hurting again.

“I love you, Jungkook”

Jungkook felt his heart twinge, not in excitement but in pain as he let out a chuckle that sounded albeit scornful.

“You can’t just say that and expect everything to be okay”, Jungkook said in a venomous tone, making the big elephant in the room much more obvious now.

“I know and I’m sorry i should’ve stayed for us to talk but...” you stopped, hesitating to continue your sentence.

“But what?”

You rapidly blinked your eyes as you try not to get too emotional, unsure if you should even lay out this information but Jungkook deserves to know why you had left him that morning even though it’ll hurt him more.

Letting out a deep breath, you closed your eyes before you could talk, “Minho called me that morning to meet up with me and i don’t know… i just ended up taking him back.”

Jungkook looked at you incredulously, finding it hard to believe at why you would take your cheating ex-boyfriend back and he felt himself getting furious that had him rolling his eyes at you.

“Minho cheated on you!” Jungkook raised his voice in anger as he twisted his body to face you.

“I know that I’m stupid, okay!? But he was willing to change and fix things up so i gave him a chance to redeem himself”

“Still, why would you take him back?”

You’re starting to get irritated with Jungkook’s questions that is outright making you look much more pathetic when you know that he doesn’t have to shove it in your face for you to acknowledge it but he’s pushing you to level with his anger and you’re afraid you can’t bite back your tongue anymore.

“It’s because I loved him and I knew that from the moment I found myself feeling guilty when I kissed you, wishing it was him instead of you”, you said only for you to widen your eyes as you cover your mouth in shock.

In that instant, Jungkook’s felt his anger subside into dejection, leaving him speechless and you knew that you had to act fast to explain to him that you’ve just said those words out of anger when you saw that he was about to hop off the swing.

“I didn’t mean to say that”, you held him back by grabbing his arm.

“Then you probably didn’t mean to say that you love me”, Jungkook hopped off as he walked in long strides to get back inside and be just out of here just like what he originally wanted.

“Jungkook, please just hear me out one last time” you pleaded desperately as you stood in front of him, blocking him from opening that sliding door.

“What more do you have to say?” Jungkook scorned.

“Me and Minho just lasted for a week before i called it quits-” you tried to deliver your point as fast as possible before he tries to get away one more time but Jungkook is just persistent to not listen at all although it’s not like you could blame him for being that way – you broke his heart after all.

“Aren’t you done breaking my heart? Is it too much to ask if i’d beg for you to spare me another one?”, Jungkook creased his brows in pain, “Look, I’ve had my heart broken too many times to get used to it but you – you’re like all of my past heartbreaks combined perhaps even worse.”

It was evident that you’re completely floored at his statement and Jungkook took the chance to sidestep you but you were quick to snap out of it as you stubbornly took a hold of his hand to drag him towards the middle of Sunwoo’s backyard.

“Jungkook, please just-”, you sighed as you let the tears you’ve been trying to hold back stream down your face, “Please just hear me out.”

Jungkook softened at the sight of you crying, wanting to wipe the tears off of your face but he reminded himself that he needed to stand his ground thus he crossed his arms as he waited for you to collect yourself and speak up.

“I broke up with Minho because I realized that he’s not going to change no matter how much i’ll ask him to but that’s not the only thing I fail to realize”, you wiped your tears as you shake off your nerves but the sound of your voice cracking gave you away, “I love you, Jungkook and i might’ve realized that a bit late but that doesn’t mean i love you any less.”

You cried even more as you try to push out all of the words you’ve kept inside onto the table, partially scared at how much you’re letting Jungkook know all of your raw emotions but you’re done letting your worries about love control you, not when it had caused a lot of damage not only to you but to Jungkook.

“I love you not because i owe to return it back but because you care so much for me and i can see it in the little things you do like when you rushed towards my building just because i was crying over a bad presentation i did or how you always check up on me whenever i tweet something cryptic even though most of the time I’m just frustrated over a game of Candy Crush”, you chuckled midway, remembering how you tweeted an ‘i give up’ and seconds later, Jungkook is up on your messages, asking how you are when in fact, you’re just ‘giving up’ because you can’t move on to the next level.

You sniffled as you smiled, standing closer to Jungkook to cup one side of his face onto your hand, looking at him intently with fondness written all over your eyes, “In all seriousness, I do love you because you taught and showed me what love is supposed to look like.”

Jungkook grabbed your hand off of his face as he also grabbed your other, enclosing them around with his hands, looking down at it as if he’s trying to contemplate first the whole thing which makes it more unnerving for you, wondering if you’ve come forward to lay your true feelings down perhaps a little bit too late.

“Y/N, I appreciate those words, I truly do but I hope you’re not just saying that because you see me as a rebound”, Jungkook laid out his concern as he let go of your hands.              

“You’re not a rebound, Jungkook” you widen your eyes, taking his hands back in yours as you try to convince him to believe your words.

With a somber smile, Jungkook squeezed your hands, “Don’t expect me to be the only one picking up the pieces, you should also be able to do it for yourself and not just me. I need you to be able to say that again when you’re completely whole.”

“What are you trying to say? Have I already lost you?” you said as your lips quivered.

Jungkook shook his head, thumb swiping over your cheeks to wipe your tears, “Even though you’ve broken my heart, you won’t lose me and that won’t ever happen because i’d still love you with all of my pieces.”

Overwhelmed, you headed straight towards Jungkook’s arms, causing him to step back with the sudden force as you hugged him tightly, relieved to hear that you weren’t too late after all.

“I’m so sorry Jungkook for everything, really and I swear that I'll build myself up first” you whispered as happy tears still managed to flow.

Jungkook kissed the top of your head, glad to hear you’re willing to do the best thing for yourself. He figured that diving into this relationship right away will just cause harm for the both of you, considering you still have a lot of things to figure out for yourself. You just have to take things slowly until the both of you eventually get there.

“I guess we'd have to invite eomma to our wedding, hm?” Jungkook suggested as he looked down on you.

“Is that a proposal?” you chuckled as you wiped your tear stained cheeks, creating a space between you although you’ve still kept your arms around his shoulders.

“How about a promise?” Jungkook raised his pinky finger.

“A promise then,” you giggled as you wrapped your pinky against his while you pulled him in by the shoulders, sealing the deal officially with a chaste kiss and a smile on both of your faces as you enveloped each other once again in an embrace.

You stayed like that for a little while, swaying each other side to side as you try to bask in each other’s warmth full of contentment, knowing full too well that all of those heartbreaks and pains you went through is meant to lead you to this exact moment and that concludes the story of how two lonely hearts who have lost their way in love have finally found each other.

--

A/N: Hi! It’s been a while since I last posted but here you go hehe although i have to say that i’ll be writing in a much slower pace from now on since i’ve become really busy irl and there’s just a lot going on, mentally speaking. I’ll still post stories from time to time though not as regularly as I used to so please look forward to my other ones in the future :)

P.S.: This is for you, Onigiri.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

72 Hours In Montreal [Part I]

A/N: Many moons ago, the incomparably lovely @im-an-adult-ish​ pitched a Montreal concert fic idea (jokingly, I think), and quite a few of my followers fell in love with it. They were even kind enough to vote on which Queen member should be the love interest, and there was a clear winner: John! 

I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, and at last, here is the first of three chapters of this new mini-fic. I’m going to tag some of my past readers, but I WILL NOT TAG YOU AGAIN unless you ask me to. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy. 💜

Series Summary: John Deacon is a rock star at a crossroads. Y/N is a world-weary employee at a Yankee Candle shop. They’ll only ever have three short days in Montreal together...or will they??

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (not graphic). 

Word Count: 6.8k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @escabell​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee​ @deacyblues​ @tensecondvacation​ @brianssixpence​ @some-major-ishues​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @youngpastafanmug​ @simonedk​ @rhapsodyrecs​ ​​​ @joemazzmatazz​​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee​​ @namelesslosers​​ @inthegardensofourminds​​ @sleepretreat​​ @hardyshoe​​​ @sevenseasofcats​​ @jennyggggrrr​​ @madeinheavxn​​ @whatgoeson-itslate​​​ @herewegoagainniall​​ @anotheronewritesthedust1​​ @pomjompish​​ @allauraleigh​​  @bluutac​​ @johndeaconshands​​ 

The obnoxious British men are still laughing. The one with the mustache, suspenders, and illogically tight red leather pants is standing on the tiptoes of his equally red Adidas shoes to paw candles off the top shelf so he can sniff them. The blond one has no less than eight jars balanced precariously in his wiry arms. Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing is billowing through the shop speakers.

“Oh my god, he’s gonna break something,” you moan in a whisper, covering your eyes but peeking through your fingers. Your apron is suddenly too tight around your waist; your cheeks are roaring with blood as you envision the inevitable confrontation: Sir, unfortunately you ruined some of our giant tacky overpriced candles and so now you have to pay for them. So sorry. Paper or plastic? We take Mastercard.

“Who?” Kevin asks. He’s holding a broom in one pudgy, pinkish hand and a dustpan in the other. He has surrendered.

“That one. Suspenders and moustache guy. Red shoes guy. Dorothy without Toto.”

Kevin cracks a smile. “That is frighteningly accurate. He is rather whimsical, isn’t he? Maybe he’ll click his heels and disappear back to London or wherever.”

“We aren’t in Kansas anymore,” you mutter in commiseration. Actually, to be perfectly literal, you’ve never been to Kansas in your life.

“Wait, I think I might have met that guy before somewhere.” Kevin squints with great concentration. “He looks oddly familiar…”

“Hm.” You check your eyeliner wings in your reflection in the cash register screen. From what you can tell, they’re every bit as tragically asymmetrical as you remembered. Spectacular.

“Staring won’t make it better,” Kevin notes, very unhelpfully.

“I know,” you reply, miserable, toying with your bangs so you can hide behind them.

“How does that even happen? The right one is practically a 90-degree angle. The left one looks like you drew it on with a Sharpie.”

You groan. “I’ll try to scrub them off during my break.”

“If you’re not too busy helping me sweep glass off the floor, sure,” Kevin says. “I told you, I took an electrical engineering class as an elective once. I could totally take a look at your bathroom.”

“I thought you said you failed that class.”

“No, I said I got a D in that class. Ds aren’t failing.”

“Well now you’ve convinced me.” You scrutinize your reflection again, frowning. You rent a rather dilapidated one-bedroom apartment above a bakery just a few blocks from the Yankee Candle shop. The apartment always smells like powdered sugar and baking bread, which you like. What you don’t like is everything else about it: the peeling paint, the low water pressure, the windows that you can’t wrestle open, the occasional mice, the shoddy electrical wiring. On any given day, there’s an approximately 27% chance that the bathroom light won’t turn on when you flip the switch. This morning you had been on the losing side of those odds, and with the only mirror in the apartment being the one mounted over the sink—and the overcast November skies outside offering painfully little natural light—you had haphazardly guesstimated your way through your makeup routine before dashing off to work. Your guesstimation skills, apparently, are not all that great.

“If he’s The Wizard of Oz...” Kevin points his broom handle from the snickering moustached man to the gangly, poodle-haired one who has been trying to decide between two candles—Christmas Cookie and Cinnamon Stick—for twelve uninterrupted minutes. He’s wearing a parka spotted with patches: a NASA emblem, a soaring rocket, a smiling green extraterrestrial face, Saturn and its rings. “That guy’s gotta be Star Wars.”

“Or Alien,” you suggest, clutching your chest and pretending to die melodramatically.

Kevin laughs. “2001: A Space Odyssey.”

“Close Encounters of The Third Kind.”

“What about that one?” Kevin nods to the guy who has large blue eyes and bleach-blond, fried tufts of hair sticking out in every direction and a grin that is simultaneously childish and foxlike. Under Pressure comes on the shop speakers, and the British men all start cheering and high-fiving each other, leaving their candles momentarily tucked under their arms or quivering precariously on the edges of wooden display tables. You are entirely mystified. “God, he’s gorgeous.”

“Bye Bye Birdie,” you decide. “Beautiful. Charming. Beloved by all. Perhaps a little dangerous. I can picture teenage girls sobbing themselves to sleep as he gallantly marches off to war.”

“You think he’s gay?” Kevin asks hopefully.

“I don’t think he’s dressed well enough for that.” The blond man is wearing a shapeless, polka-dotted sweater that has ‘NIVEA’ spelled across the front, for reasons that are difficult to fathom.

Kevin sighs, crestfallen. He suffered a nasty breakup with his boyfriend Patrick two weeks ago, and is enthusiastically on the hunt for a rebound to distract him. “You’re probably right. Okay, last but not least.” Kevin aims his broom handle at the fourth and final British stranger. “What shall we call him?”

You consider the man who has wandered away from the others. He’s wearing Levi’s, a black bomber jacket, aviator sunglasses, a mop of unwrangled auburn hair, thoughtful lines that break around the corners of his hidden eyes. He is browsing unhurriedly, perhaps even distractedly, through the fruit-scented candles. He picks up a jar of Macintosh Apple, sniffs a few times, then sets it back down precisely where he found it. He even spins the jar so it’s label-side-facing-outwards again. You warm to him immediately.  

“One of the James Bond movies?” Kevin offers. “He seems…enigmatic somehow. Esoteric. Yet still clearly leading man material.”

“Casablanca,” you say, not tearing your gaze from the stranger. “I can imagine him waving off some old flame on a foggy, night-draped airport runway, breaking hearts with sparse words of wisdom. Can’t you?”

“Oh, that’s exactly right!” Kevin sighs again, dreamily, yearningly. And whether he’s yearning for his ex-boyfriend Patrick or Bye Bye Birdie a.k.a. NIVEA-sweater man or passion or sex or love or maybe just the ineffable high that accompanies the beginnings of things, you couldn’t say.

You peer at your reflection in the cash register screen once again, feeling more self-conscious than ever. “Maybe if I—”

“Freddie!” Star Wars cries, and you whirl just in time to see The Wizard of Oz, whizzing around and giggling and preoccupied with teasing NIVEA-sweater man, stumble into the six-foot-tall tower of Christmas Tree-scented candles and send countless jars crashing to the tile floor.

“I knew it!” you unleash in a rush of misery and exasperation, the biting threat of tears in your eyes and the back of your throat. And of course, it isn’t just about the mess on the floor, it isn’t just about having to tell your manager and hoping to God he doesn’t fire you. It’s about your derelict apartment, it’s about your fucked up eyeliner, it’s about everything that’s happened in the past eighteen months; it’s about the never-ending feelings of helplessness and inertia and predestined ruin, it’s about not being able to get fifteen meters down the street before life throws up another red light, another jagged sinkhole gaping like ravenous jaws. And none of that is these ridiculous British men’s fault; yet still, in that moment the fury you feel towards them is overwhelming.

“Jesus christ,” Kevin mumbles, stepping out from behind the counter to survey the damage, his hands still clutching the broom and dustbin.

“You couldn’t just mosey around and ask which candles are on sale and maybe sniff one or two like a normal person?!” you explode. “You had to come in here acting like goddamn animals and destroy like a third of our inventory?!”

“I’m so sorry,” The Wizard of Oz sputters, looking at you and Kevin with wide, profusely apologetic dark eyes. Star Wars and NIVEA-sweater man are helping him to his feet, albeit with very spirited chidings. Kevin is grudgingly asking if he’s alright. Casablanca is already trying to sort through which candles are broken and putting those that survived aside. And when he casts furtive glances from behind his aviator sunglasses, they’re directed not at Kevin or The Wizard of Oz but at you.

“Freddie, bloody hell,” NIVEA-sweater man laments.

“I’ll pay for them all,” The Wizard of Oz tells you. “I’m so, so, so terribly sorry, you’re absolutely right to be cross with me, and I’ll pay for everything. Here, let me get my wallet…” He digs around in the pockets of his preposterously tight red leather pants.

“Uh…sir…” Kevin begins uncertainly, not wanting to break the bad news.

“It’s going to be hundreds of dollars,” you inform The Wizard of Oz. “Maybe over a thousand. You’re really going to pay that? Or are you just going to wait until we start sweeping up and then sprint out the front door the first chance you get?”

“Hey,” Kevin warns you quietly. He wants you to keep this job probably even more than you do. You are, by his own admission, far and away his favorite coworker.

“No, no, darling, please, let her scold me, I deserve it.” The Wizard of Oz at last locates his wallet. He sashays to the counter, brushing nuggets of glittering glass off his clothes, and counts out two thousand Canadian dollars in hundreds. “Will that do? You can keep the change as compensation for the inconvenience. And we’ll help clean up as well, has anyone got an extra broom?”

As you stare down at the money, shocked into speechlessness, three hulking men dressed in black come barreling into the shop.

“Lord in heaven, Freddie, what happened?!” one asks. He has a thick beard and an Irish accent and closely resembles a grizzly bear.

“I made a complete ass out of myself and am now trying to win the affections of this marvelous creature,” The Wizard of Oz replies, flourishing a hand towards you. “Is it working, dear?”

“Kind of,” you admit, still stunned.

“Oh my god.” The broom tumbles out of Kevin’s grasp and clatters on the floor. He points at The Wizard of Oz. “I know where I’ve seen you before. You…you…you’re Freddie Mercury, right?”

In reply, The Wizard of Oz only flashes an enormous, toothy, dazzling grin.

“Oh my god,” Kevin says again, a starry, awed smile rippling across his round face.

“Please don’t make his ego any bigger,” Star Wars pleads.

“And you’re Brian May!” Kevin replies. “And you’re…” He turns to NIVEA-sweater man, snapping his fingers, trying to remember. “Robbie…no, Ronnie…uh…Ricky…?”

“Roger Taylor.” But it comes out like ‘Rogah Taylah.’ NIVEA-sweater man extends a hand for Kevin to shake, not the least bit offended. “It’s a pleasure. Sorry about the candles.”

“No problem, sir!” Kevin squeaks as he takes Roger’s hand, beaming. The men in black—the band’s security, you’ve gathered—have descended upon the crime scene, confiscated Kevin’s broom and dustbin, and are rapidly clearing glass and chunks of candlewax from the floor and discarding the mess in a trash bin that usually collects only chewed gum and unwanted receipts.

“So I guess I probably shouldn’t have yelled at you,” you tell Freddie Mercury guiltily, all the venom in your voice evaporated. You’re no Queen superfan, true, but everyone knows the words to Bohemian Rhapsody and We Will Rock You and We Are The Champions. And Another One Bites The Dust. And Killer Queen. And Crazy Little Thing Called Love. And Somebody To Love. Your thoughts are suddenly a racing, indecipherable blur. Your knees are boneless. You’ve never met a celebrity before. Well, not unless you count professional hockey players, which you definitely don’t.

“No, you absolutely should have,” Freddie retorts. “I was dreadfully discourteous. I’m positively mortified about it. I should be punished severely. Have you got anything behind the counter to whip me with? A riding crop, perhaps?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Not that I know of. I’m sorry I called you an animal.”

“I’m sorry about the candles. There, now we’re even. Wait, not quite yet.” He calls over to Kevin: “Darling, how would you and your friend like front row seats at our show tonight?”

The squeal that bursts out of Kevin is not human.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Freddie Mercury says, very pleased.

“This is really too generous of you,” you protest, although your heart isn’t in it; Kevin might legitimately strangle you if you screw this up, and you’re finding that you want to see Queen in concert too. It’s something to interrupt the powerless, unrelenting monotony; it’s like something that might happen in a movie or a dream.

“Nonsense!” Freddie announces cheerfully. Star Wars and NIVEA-sweater man—or, rather, Brian and Roger—are chatting with the security guys and nodding along as the bearlike Irishman reviews the day’s itinerary.

You peer over at Casablanca. Now that the floor is mostly clear, he’s migrating towards you and Freddie. You glance apprehensively down at your reflection. “Goddammit,” you mutter, manipulating your bangs again, wishing you could disappear. “I meet a rock star for the first time ever and I look like this.”

“It’s not that bad,” Kevin says, obviously lying.

“I like it,” Freddie tells you, propping his elbows on the counter and resting his chin on his knuckles. “It’s very goth raccoon chic.”

“My bathroom light wouldn’t turn on this morning and I was late for work and I guesstimated and that was clearly a poor decision.” Poor decisions are my expertise, you think instinctively, and feel a tug of something you don’t quite have the words for. Shame, grief, disappointment, a raw sting like a flame beneath your palm, a dread like a child who’s lost their mother’s hand.  

“I’ve offered to take a look at the wiring!” Kevin exclaims. “I told you, a D is passing!”

“Kev, babe,” you reply. “I really, truly appreciate your enthusiasm, but you’ll probably just make it worse. And then my landlord will hate me and keep my security deposit and write me awful references and I’ll have to live in an endless string of ancient, hideous apartments until I die.”

“It’s an electrical problem?” Casablanca asks, pushing his aviator sunglasses up into his unruly hair. His unveiled eyes are a blueish grey—they remind you of one of the candles, maybe Beach Walk or Bahama Breeze—and very direct. He stares at you and you stare back, and at some point you realize that everyone is waiting for you to answer.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess so. Sometimes nothing happens when I flip the switch. That’s the extent of my handyman knowledge, unfortunately.”

Casablanca nods. “I could take a look, if you like.”

Not Beach Walk. Not Bahama Breeze. Warm Luxe Cashmere, maybe. “Now that really is too generous. I couldn’t possibly put a rock star to work on my terrible apartment.”

“John’s got a degree in electrical engineering, that’s right in his wheelhouse,” Brian counters.

“Yes,” Roger says, grinning, teasing in a way that has absolutely no malice in it. “He’s more of an engineer than a rock star anyway, isn’t he?”

“Seriously?” Casablanca—John, you mentally correct yourself—doesn’t seem much like an electrical engineer. But Roger’s right: he doesn’t really seem like a rock star, either. What John seems like is steady and abiding and perceptive, attentive, unflinching. He studies you like some people study paintings, like you once studied paintings; not in a passing-by-in-a-crowded-hallway type way but in a patient way, a methodical way, with the quiet that comes from knowing that vision in the frame is older than you will ever be and will still be hanging on that wall when you’re bones in a box somewhere.

Freddie lights a cigarette and puffs on it decadently. Smoking definitely isn’t allowed inside the Yankee Candle shop, but you aren’t about to snap at Freddie Mercury for the second time today. “Oh, let him tinker around in your flat, darling. It’ll make his day.”

“Is it far?” John asks you.

“No, really, Casa…uh, I mean, John, I appreciate the offer more than I could possibly express but I—”

“It’s just a few blocks north,” Kevin says, and tosses you a wily smile.

“How convenient!” Freddie trills. “When does your shift end, dear?”

“Not until 5:30.”

“She can take a long lunch break.” Another smile from Kevin. “Honestly, there’s not much to do around here now that the Great Candle Massacre of 1981 has been remediated.”

“Splendid!” Freddie says, radiant.

You shake your head, very slowly. “This is the weirdest day of my life.”

“Then you clearly haven’t lived enough,” Freddie quips.

“Fred!” Roger presses. “Are we going to the bookstore down the street or not? That was the whole deal, we suffer through your candles, you suffer through our books.”

“You didn’t seem to be suffering,” Brian says.

“Of course I’m suffering. That cashier over there almost murdered me,” Roger slings back.  

Freddie sighs and rolls his large, dark, expressive eyes. “Yes, darling, of course, don’t give yourself an aneurism. We’ll go to the bookstore, John can rendezvous with us later.” Now he turns to you. “We’ll send a car to your flat at 7 to pick you and Kevin up for the show tonight. Don’t let John leave without knowing your address. Wear something deliciously opulent. Lots of sparkle. Maybe furs.”

“I make eight dollars an hour,” you tell him.  

“Or you could just wear nothing.”

“Sparkle and furs it is.”

Freddie chuckles and turns to the men in black. “Chubby, my dear?”

The towering bearlike Irishman replies: “Yeah, I’ll go with John. Don’t wreck anything else while I’m gone. Don’t get yourselves deported before the show. EMI will have your heads on spikes.”

Freddie pretends to be scandalized. “Causing destruction? We would never.” He saunters towards the shop door, jingling the bells as he swings it open, and waves like royalty. “See you tonight, darlings!”

“Bye!” Kevin shouts after him. And then, after Freddie, Roger, Brian, and the two non-bearlike men in black have departed: “Oh my god I just met Freddie Mercury and he’s amazing and he knows I exist and he spoke to me and tonight he’s sending a car to take me to a concert and I’m going to have front row seats and what if he invites me to have a drink afterwards oh my god.”

John, evidently unaffected, prompts you: “So your place is just a few blocks away?”

“Yeah. Just let me get my coat…”

The man in black—Chubby, as Freddie had introduced him—fetches your coat off the rack by the door and holds it up so you can slip inside it. No one has ever done that for you before.

“…Thanks…?” You button your coat, feeling a little like royalty yourself at the moment.

John pulls open the door, the tiny metal bells jangling, and gestures out into the streets of downtown Montreal. He’s wearing his aviator sunglasses again; the November wind gusts through his hair. You catch threadbare ghosts of cigarette smoke and cologne that the breeze lifts from his skin like pages of a book. And he smiles, just barely. “After you.”

You walk north together along the path of the sidewalk with your hands in your pockets, your breath fog in the cold, weaving through the bustling crowds of tourists and holiday shoppers, Chubby trailing not far behind and displaying his talent for keeping watch while not letting on that he is. To even your own horror, you can’t seem to shut up.

“John, this is so kind of you, this is completely unnecessary, you really shouldn’t feel like you owe me anything because Freddie already paid for the candles twice over and I was totally unprofessional for yelling at customers, even annoying customers, and Kevin and I are already getting a free concert tonight and so—”

“Okay,” John says firmly. “You have to talk about something else now.”

“I can’t talk about anything else. All I can think about is how ridiculous this is.”

“Have you lived in Montreal long?” he asks, very casually, as if you’re strangers in line next to each other at Starbucks.

“My whole life.” Minus a little over three years, but you don’t need to get into that. “My parents live over in Verdun, right on the St. Lawrence River.

“Sounds scenic.”

“It certainly is.” You’re trying not to look at John, because every time you do it’s hard to stop. You look at the cars rolling by instead. “This is super embarrassing, and I don’t mean to offend you, but what exactly do you do in Queen?”

He’s not offended; he thinks it’s hilarious. “I’m the bassist.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah, bassists are quiet and reliable or whatever. Bassists don’t terrorize Yankee Candle employees.”

“You’re not a Queen fan?”

“I’m a casual and appreciative listener, but I wouldn’t call myself a fan. I couldn’t pick any of you out of a lineup, clearly. Roger is the drummer, right?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Drummers are feral, almost universally. Which means Brian must be lead guitar.”

“And what do you think of lead guitarists?”

“Word on the street is that they are brilliant yet micromanaging egomaniacs, but I don’t want to bash your friend or anything.”

John chuckles, like there’s some joke you aren’t in on yet. “No, please, bash away. So you prefer bassists.”

And finally you do look at him, and you regret it immediately; because now you’re caught in the thoughtful crinkles around his eyes and the barely-there stubble of his cheeks and the playful curve of his lips and how the wind ruffles his auburn hair the same way it steals leaves off of slumbering trees. You almost walk right past the bakery. “Oh, wait, we’re here.”

You lead John and Chubby upstairs to your chronically irritating apartment. John removes his sunglasses, inspects your bathroom light switch, then asks if you have a specific kind of screwdriver. You bring him the toolkit that has lived beneath the kitchen sink since before you moved in and he roots around, finds what he’s searching for, and unfastens the light switch plate from the wall.

“Please don’t electrocute yourself,” you fret, as Chubby meanders around in the living room and tries not to intrude. “If you die your groupies will never forgive me.”

“Who says I’ve got groupies?” John replies, amused.

“I just assumed all rock stars do.” Your eyes flick down to his hands as he fidgets with the wiring; and you notice randomly—or, maybe, not all that randomly—that he’s not wearing a ring. You’re still ruminating over that when he returns the light switch plate to the wall, secures each of the four screws with a few deft twists of his wrist, and performs a test flip. The light turns on immediately.

“Mission accomplished,” John says mildly.

“What?! No, no way, no freaking way.” You flip the switch again. The light turns off and on obediently. You try it at least five more times. Perfection. “…How?!”

“Just a few loose wires. No great hardship.” He tucks the screwdriver back into the toolkit.  

You gape at him. “That took you…like…two minutes.”

“Aren’t you glad my band wandered into your candle shop and almost demolished the place today?” He rests his hands on his waist; his sturdy, skillful, ringless hands. “Anything else I can fix for you?”

“Definitely not.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He stares at you. You stare back.

“Stop looking at my fucked up eyeliner.”

John laughs. It’s a delightfully clear, disarming sound. “That’s not what I was doing.”  

“I should fix my makeup and go back to work now. And you should probably go help your friends burn down the bookstore or blow up a Starbucks or do whatever else is on your agenda for today.”

“Soundcheck and dinner, actually,” John says. He slides the toolkit back beneath your kitchen sink, meets Chubby by the front door, and pauses there to give you one last lingering, laden gaze. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“In my best furs,” you purr in your most convincing Freddie Mercury impression.

“Or nothing at all,” John suggests levelly. And then he’s gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

It turns out better than you thought it would. Your tan, knee-high suede boots are celebratory without being too uncomfortable. Kevin brings you a faux fur jacket that he stole from Patrick during the breakup. You find a glittery black dress in the back of your closet that you once loved, then couldn’t stand to look at, then forgot existed entirely; but tonight it’s like you’re seeing it with brand new eyes. It fits even better than you remember. In the mirror, you look like a stranger and a hauntingly familiar acquaintance and yourself all at once.

Chubby arrives in a black limousine at precisely 7pm, parks along the curb next to the bakery, and honks the horn twice. You and Kevin dash down the narrow steps and climb into the backseat, finding complimentary cigarettes and bottled water and chilled champagne. As the limo rolls though Montreal under changing traffic lights, Kevin prattles on about the band, their history, their albums, their tours…and John in particular. He tries to tempt you. You resist valiantly…for the first fifteen minutes, anyway.

Finally, you sigh in capitulation. “Okay. Fine. I get it. What do you know about him?”

“I know he’s divorced,” Kevin says, wiggling his eyebrows. “I saw it on the cover of a tabloid a while back. Very contentious, spicy stuff. He’s got like eight kids.”

“He does not have eight kids!”

“Okay, maybe not eight. But he has a lot,” Kevin insists.

You rearrange your hair with deliberate flippantness. “What do I care if he’s divorced?”

Kevin grins. “You know why you care.”

“Stop,” you plead.

“Look, all I’m saying is that he definitely likes you. And you like him. And I haven’t seen you like anybody, ever, in the…wait, let me count…the nine whole months that I’ve known you. When was the last time you even had a boyfriend? When was the last time you got laid? Oh my god, it hasn’t been nine months, has it?! That’s way too long to go without sex. No wonder you’re so serious all the time. It all makes sense now. You poor thing. You’re in dick withdrawal.”

“Assuming that’s my problem—which it isn’t, by the way—if I wanted to get laid there are far easier ways to accomplish that.”

“Sure,” Kevin says. “But you don’t want just any dick. You want British bassist dick. John Deacon dick. Casablanca dick.”

“This friendship is terminated.”

Kevin cackles, pouring himself a glass of champagne that bubbles over the top and spills onto the limo floor. “I’m really glad you’re here with me. I’m glad we can do this together.”

You fill a champagne flute with bottled water and clink your glass against his, smiling. The limo is turning into the parking lot of the Montreal Forum. “Me too.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The backstage room that Chubby escorts you and Kevin to after the show is full of chatter and heavy smoke and roadies and fans and musicians and journalists, trays of hors d'oeuvres, wine and Stella Artois and vodka and tequila and rum, the electric promise of things that will go unmentioned in the morning. There are stacks of stereo speakers in the corner rumbling out Another One Bites The Dust. You and Kevin camp out on a green velvet couch—making small talk with each other to avoid making it with anyone else—until the band arrives.

John is still wearing his concert outfit: blue pants, blue shirt, a black leather jacket that gives him an edge like a knife. He passes out a few polite nods; but Freddie and Roger are undeniably the suns in this room, and the guests their planets. Freddie is soon surrounded by a constellation of followers and whisks Kevin away with him. John, meanwhile, comes straight to where you’re sitting on the couch and stands in front of you with his messy hair and his veil of cologne and his mystery-candle-blue eyes.

“Can I get you anything?” he asks in that calm, measured way that you’ve learned he has. “Rum and Coke? Moscow Mule? Hurricane? I’ve been on a mojito kick recently.”

“I don’t drink.” And you wait for the inevitable awkwardness that usually follows that sentence, when he says why? or seriously? or maybe just oh in wilted disappointment.

Instead, what John says is this: “No problem. Rum minus the Coke?”

You smile up at him. You can’t help yourself. “That would be perfect.”

There are innumerable drinks already poured on a table, dark carbonated liquid trembling in red plastic cups as the bass from the stereo speakers quakes through the crowded, droning, smoke-hazed room. John moves from cup to cup, taking tentative sips before shaking his head and putting them back down on the table. After each attempt, he casts you a rueful smirk before continuing on to the next cup. At last, he finds two unadulterated Cokes and brings them to the couch: one for you, and one for him. He sits beside you with one of his legs crossed over the other, a lit cigarette in his right hand, a red plastic cup of Coke in his left, and his eyes on you in a way that isn’t hungry or arrogant or restless but merely, benignly contemplative. You find yourself thinking of paintings in museums again, you even start to feel a little like one; and you wonder what colors he sees in you, what types of brushstrokes, what signatures scribbled in the corners of the canvas, what shadows painstakingly penciled in to mimic the angles of the sun.

You tell John about growing up in Montreal, about autumn strolls along the St. Lawrence River, about snowfalls and Mont-Royal and Chinatown and the Notre-Dame Basilica, about the exhilarating turmoil of the Summer Olympics in 1976. You tell him about how Kevin is in his last year at Concordia University and works part-time at the Yankee Candle shop for money to invest in his hair gel and travel fund. You tell him so many things he doesn’t notice all the parts you leave out. In return, John tells you about himself; not about John Deacon the bassist of Queen, but about the understated man who likes cars and electronics and the Beatles and tea in the evenings beside a roaring fireplace. And when his arm comes to rest on the back of the green velvet couch, and then across your shoulders, and then around your waist, it doesn’t feel strange at all. You lean into him as you exchange stories and clandestine giggles until you’re nearly in his lap, and that doesn’t feel strange either. And you haven’t had a drop of alcohol—you haven’t in almost a full year, in fact—but you feel a little drunk tonight, because your cheeks are hot and the room is blurry and the world is brimming with a pure, rose-gold, uncomplicated happiness.

The other band members periodically stop by to say hello, clutching their drinks and making stilted pleasantries as you and John smile drowsily up at them, looking nothing like the soberest people in the room. Chubby and the rest of the men in black are simultaneously omnipresent and scarce, which you are beginning to think is a requirement inked into their job description. Kevin, having been fully absorbed into Freddie’s entourage, is beaming and flushed and extremely, blissfully tipsy. And they all watch you and John not with scandalized sideways glances but with warm approval swimming in their gleaming eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you yet,” you tell John when you are alone again. “For improving my dreadful apartment. So thank you. You really didn’t have to do that. I hate that I marred your time in Montreal with unpaid labor.”

He shrugs it off. “I like fixing things. It’s what I’m best at.”

“Besides being an internationally acclaimed rock star, you mean.”

“I’m honestly not so sure I’m cut out for the rock star life.”

“You are, though. I saw you. I watched you all night.”

John just stares at you, and then he leans in even closer, inhaling deeply. You can feel the heat of his breath on your collarbone, your shoulder, your neck; goosebumps spring up across your skin like stars at twilight. “What the hell is that? Perfume? Lotion? Shampoo?”

“It’s probably sugar and baking bread, because I live on top of a bakery.”

“Does Yankee Candle make anything that smells like you?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “They definitely do not.”

“They should,” John murmurs. And with the rough whirlpools of his fingertips he turns your face to his so he can kiss you.

It should be kind of humiliating, right? Making out with some guy you just met on a green couch in front of thirty strangers, your hands getting tangled in each other’s hair, your lips meeting again and again, taunting darts of the tongue and quick painless bites and stifled moans and grasping tugs at clothes that you’re starting to wish weren’t there at all. It should feel embarrassing, you should feel overexposed, here in this land of unfamiliar expectations and accents and faces. But no one seems to be watching too closely. This must be so tame in the world of rock stars, it occurs to you; almost wholesome. And you can’t remember a time you’ve ever felt more at peace.

“There’s a pool table in the next room,” someone says, startling you, and you break away from John to discover Roger perched on the arm of the couch, grinning coyly as he sips his emerald glass bottle of Stella Artois. “I mean…you know. If you’re into that. John’s got all sorts of moves, we played for days at a time at Ridge Farm. You could challenge him to a round or two. Place bets. But be warned…he’s a total pool shark.”

“Is he?” you ask mischievously, clasping the lapel of John’s leather jacket. Even if you freed him, he shows no indication of retreating. He’s raking his knuckles back and forth along the length of your thigh that your little black dress leaves exposed, never venturing above the hem.  

Roger winks. “Just thought you might want to know.” Then he hops off the couch and disappears into the crowd again.

John is trying to keep his eyes locked on yours, and no lower. He’s trying to not be even vanishingly forceful. He’s trying not to sway you. But you know exactly what he wants. “Do you…?”

“Show me how to play pool,” you whisper. And you lead him through the shuffling bodies and boisterous, increasingly intoxicated laughter and cumulus clouds of cigarette smoke to the door on the other side of the room.

Beyond the threshold you find a pool table and not much else. It’s terribly unceremonious; it’s absolutely perfect. You can hear Blondie’s Call Me playing back in the packed room where the rest of the band is still reveling, the bass crawling through the walls to radiate in your eardrums, your bones. You lock the door and reach out to flick off the harsh florescent lights, but John stops you. You don’t have to ask him why. He wants to be able to see you. He asks if this is okay—again, wordlessly, with the forthright blue of his eyes—and you nod. And then he kisses you as you drag him in, breathing in his cologne and nicotine, tasting the virgin Coke on his lips that he drank just for you.

John tears off his leather jacket. You toss the faux fur that Kevin lent you to the floor. You climb up onto the pool table, and John follows you. You yank off his shirt, link your suede boots around him as he positions himself between your naked, down-soft thighs. And then John stops.

“Look, I have to be honest,” he says. His hands tremble as they cradle the small of your back, just barely. “I’m newly divorced, and I’m really out of practice, I mean really out of practice, and this is not at all my usual way of doing things, and if I’m total rubbish or only last like thirty seconds or something I just want to apologize in advance and swear that I’ll do absolutely everything I can to make this worth it for you. Because I like you. I really, really like you.”

“I’m a little rusty too,” you confess with a small, sheepish smile. But he doesn’t need to know exactly how rusty you are, or in how many ways, all those layers of blood-hued ruin that spin webs from the skin down to the marrow.

John seems relieved. “Then maybe we’re even.”

You’re not even, you’re nowhere close; but it’s comforting that he thinks you could be.

John kisses you again. His hands find the zipper on the back of your dress, and then the tiny metal clasp of your bra, and then the black lace of your panties…and then everything else as well.

~~~~~~~~~~

Afterwards, you return together to the green velvet couch in the next room, not with bashful swiftness but with your hands entwined, your eyes satiated and calm, your clothes unapologetically rumpled. The partying is winding down. The song pouring through the stereo speakers is In The Air Tonight by Phil Collins. And now you and John don’t talk very much at all; you just sit there with fresh cups of Coke, your head resting against his chest, his left arm draped around you, watching the rest of the universe spin on like a carousel as your feet stay rooted to the earth.

“So you’re the smart one,” you say eventually. “You must be, with an electrical engineering degree.”

“You’d be surprised. We’re rather erudite, as far as rock stars go.” He smiles drowsily down at you. “Freddie’s got a degree in graphic art and design. Roger has one in biology. Brian has the better part of a PhD in astrophysics. He might even go back to finish it one day. He probably will, just to be able to lord it over us.”

“Wow,” you reply, distantly, suddenly feeling very small.

“What did you study?” he asks you.

In truth, you never finished college; but you aren’t going to tell John that. “Something useless.”

John is intrigued, and perhaps a little concerned as well. His brow furrows with grooves like lines of fortune in an open palm.

“I wanted to be a painter,” you explain, smirking at the absurdity. “But the world doesn’t need painters anymore. They have pictures and videos that are just as clear as real life. They don’t need my fantasies or interpretations. They have reality.”

“I think we still need painters,” John disagrees, his calloused fingertips tracing lazy circles around your bare shoulder.

“Really?”

“Yeah. For when reality requires improving.”

You let a few moments of silence tick by. And then you put on your faux fur jacket, finish the last of your Coke, stand and find your balance on the low heels of your boots with exhausted, shaky calves.

John jolts upright, somewhat alarmed. “Hey, you don’t have to—”

“This was great, John. This was the best night I’ve had in a long time. So thank you for that. But I have to go home now.”

“Okay.” He studies you, processing. “Okay, okay. I’ll have Chubby drive you.”

“That’s really not necessary, I can get a cab…”

But John has already waved Chubby over, and the massive man appears serendipitously with an impossible degree of stealth. Kevin finds you, staggering, babbling breathlessly about all of his adventures, showing you where Freddie and Roger and Brian signed his chest with a black Sharpie, repeating the same stories on an identical loop every few minutes. As you leave, you offer John a brief parting wave; and he returns it, like a reflection in a mirror, but he’s wearing a pensive frown and eyes dark with thought. Then again, maybe you are too.

Chubby leads you and Kevin outside to the waiting limousine. You slip into the backseat, ply Kevin with bottled water, open the sunroof so moonlight and cold, reviving November air can flood in like a river.

Kevin is coming down now from the high of the champagne and the concert and the carousing with Freddie Mercury. He blinks, soaking you in, really seeing you for the first time in hours. “Wow, you had a good night with Casablanca. You had a really good night.”

“Yeah,” you reply softly, resting your head against the window and watching the stars and streetlights pass by above like seasons. “And it will never happen again.”

[cryptidax]

Fallen Aliases

-DISCLAIMER: This is my first attempt in angst so please remember that as you read!!

-Word Count: around 1,605 words

-The reader here is, once again, NOT the traveler. They are a high-ranking member of the Liyue Qixing and have a personality based on Xingqiu and Rosaria but share the same hunger for battle as Tartaglia. They also use a polearm as a weapon and have a vision. :)

NAMES, such a common thing, yet it holds such significance to even the immortals. Cursing one's name might result in you breathing your last; Praising someone else's title might flatter them; Falling for another's alias might result in your end. The people of Teyvat hold names in such high regard, yet. Why, why did you love someone when you didn't even know their name?

Ah yes. The truth is as clear as day now. It was because you were blind. As the elders would call it, You were a fool in love. Despite that, why do you hold all the memories with him in such a fond manner? The day when you met can still be remembered as clear as the water in the ponds of Qingce Village.

The feeling of your polearm in your hand and your vision hanging from your belt is something that exhilarated you. Especially now, with several new foes for you to beat in front of you.

"This is much more interesting than doing boring paperwork, don't you think?"

From an outsider's perspective, seeing a Qixing member speaking to some Ruin machinations in the middle of the night would make them think they are going crazy. After all, all the Qixing members are dignified and elegant people who have enough ambition and power to uphold the will of Rex Lapis despite being mortal. People who are as clear and transparent of their ways just like Morax. (Y/N) is the hidden spear of the Qixing, a weapon with dangerous potential yet remains covered to the public. One minute they could be speaking in front of the Milileth about their new plans for defense; next, they could be slicing down several Ruin hunters by the coast of Liyue and laughing as if they are playing with toys while doing so.

"It's a shame such ancient machinations must be shut down.. oh well, Night Night little robots.~"

Using their elemental burst to enhance their weapon, (Y/N) swings it in a clockwise motion to finish the ruin hunters and watch as they fall only to disintegrate into blue dust. Hearing the ruffling of the bushes beside them, they ready their weapon once again and turn around to meet a new foe.

"Whoever you are, come out now, and I might be merciful tonight."

Anticipating a new fight, the Qixing member was let down as they see an orange mop of hair instead of a beast or machination to face.

"Well, you are disappointing." (Y/N) bluntly said as they stared down the newcomer. The (h/c)-haired person observed the hydro vision hanging framed in a Sneznayan designed border from the blue-eyed stranger and readied their vision for combat once again.

"I never knew the Liyue Qixing were so hospitable to others." the newcomer stated in a playfully sarcastic manner. "Anyways, You can call me Childe, (Y/-"

Cutting him off as he was about to say their name, (Y/N) hostility asked many questions towards Childe, Each question containing less friendliness as the last. The Sneznayan answered all these questions without fail, yet (Y/N) never let down their guard.

"Master Childe!!"

The duo turns to the noise to see a female fatui member loudly calling out for superior while forcefully making her way through several large faunas.

"Well, that's my call to go Mx. Bigshot. See you next time!"

Childe childishly says as he quickly goes towards the fatui member. You could hear him loudly playfully shouting back at her by repeating her name. Shaking their head in a joking manner, the (h/c)-nette heads their way back to the office, dreading the paperwork they have to write as a report of what they had done for the night.

This schedule goes on every night for several weeks. (Y/N) goes to clear out monsters, Childe appears out of nowhere and helps out with destroying them, talks a bit, says goodbyes, and repeats the next night. (Y/N) has tried to stop him, but he keeps insisting to the point where he would keep his arms around them unless they allow him to stay.

A blind man could see how in love they were, from the way they looked at each other when they slay monsters in the night, to the way each would hold each other's gaze for more than one would consider professional.

They were in love.

The elders called it beautiful. Singles held jealous looks to their relationship yet congratulated them nonetheless. Children fawned to their parents on how they wanted to grow up to have what they had. The two held hope that despite who they are, what they do for a living. They hoped that they at least can have this one thing that can share.

But oh, What fools were they to believe that two mortals can forever ignore reality.

The day started so pure as if the archons all agreed to give humanity one good day, A pair of lovers waking up to gaze at each other lovingly as they murmured random and insignificant news to each other sweetly. To others, this may be unimportant considering how much influence these two people have over their respective nations, but these two moments like these mean the world to them. Sadly, they must head up and attend to their duties. Giving a goodbye kiss to each other, both get ready for their work before going out to each work locations. If (Y/N) bothered to look back to awhile longer when they gave each other a goodbye, they would see underlying melancholy in the eyes of their lover. Maybe that would have been the key to keeping their relationship.

It truly is sad how relationships take so long to build up. Yet be shattered in just the snap of one's fingers.

Hearing the closing of the front door, (Y/N) looks up to see the tired and beaten form of their lover bandaged up. It honestly broke their heart to go and comfort him, But what needs to be done is more important. Not only for them but for their co-workers who care for them, and for the citizens of Liyue who were affected by the awakening of the ancient sea god.

"Childe."

His name. A name that flowed out of their mouth with a tone sweet as honey. Now felt like they were eating sandpaper as they said it.

Looking up to see the blank yet hurt look from his lover, Childe, the eleventh fatui harbinger, felt something that he has not gotten for several years from someone that does not share his blood. Guilt.

"(Y/N) I can explai-"

"Save it."

Giving a sad smile to the fatui in front of them, they blankly say how they know how he caused the disaster. Each word seems to be like another arrow being shot towards the Sneznayan as his lover said it in such a way that it was impossible not to question his actions. Maybe this would've been more bearable if his lover was angry and was rapidly throwing insults, but they said it in an accepting way. Like they anticipated that this would happen, and that. That somehow made him feel more hurt than if the latter happened.

"Childe, or should I call you Tartaglia,"

People say that second chances are the cultivators of a better relationship,

"I believed we could've made this work in a way that we can pretend we are not two opposing people."

They say that hardships like these would blossom into a memory that they could recount with a nostalgic smile.

"I promised that we would get through this together,"

But love is a battlefield and in the relationship of (Y/N), the sword of the qixing, and Childe, a warrior of Sneznaya. That statement quite too literal.

"Ha... I apologize, but that promise is one I cannot keep, not after that disaster you have summoned..."

There are no second chances in battle,

"I loved you, but now... I see that I do not even know who you are."

For once you swing your weapon,

"Goodbye Childe, For our sake, I hope we never see each other again."

You have no chance to take it back.

Hiding their tears as they walk out of their old abode, never looking back in fear that they will not stand firm in their decision. (Y/N)'s heart cracks each step they take, mind plagued by scenarios of what else they could've done. Walking turns to jogging and jogging to running, the Qixing member rushes to their new residence, an apartment in Liyue Harbor, and opens then shuts the door quickly. They slump down on the floor, wanting to cry. Time seems to stop as (Y/N) reaches up to touch their face.

"Why can't I cry?"

It seems like the archons won't even give them the comfort of tears.

Seeing the fading silhouette of his ex-lover as they walk away, Childe solemnly walks to their, now only his, room and opens his drawer to get out a small velvet box. With a sad look and teary eyes, he opens the box to reveal a beautiful Varunada Lazurite ring. A ring that he hoped would've been placed on the finger of who he loves. The young lord holds the item close to his chest and quietly whispers through choked sobs,

"But I love you (Y/N).."

After so many years, the eleventh harbinger, an instrument of war, the big brother of several siblings, the annoying co-worker of the harbingers. Childe, Tartaglia, Ajax... Cries. At this moment, all the sides of one man weep.

Fate must be satisfied. They just punished a catalyst of death, A being who gets excitement from a battle, a person that should be victim to the full wrath of the archons. No matter how good a person acts, blood will forever stain their hands. By this law, Childe, Tartaglia, Ajax is a wicked being. He is an evil man... right?

[spidxysense]

Back to You | 12

Summary: He broke your heart, but you’d always love him. Two souls that not even the universe could tear apart, even if you wanted it to at times.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader x Timothee Chalamet

A/N: THIS TOOK SO LOOOOOOOOOOOONG TO UPDLOAD!!!!!!!!!!! Ugh, I spent the past 2 days trying to upload this from my mobile data whih is honestly so slow when I’m on tumblr, luckily our internet got fixed today. Hope all of you are well during this time and stay indoors guys! Now that I’m just at home, I’ll be sure to write more. I just finished Never Have I Ever, and I loved the series soooooooooo much!!!! Do you guys have any suggestions of shows like that?? I know it’s a bit short but I plan on making the chapters shorter so it’s easier for me to finish a chapter, lol. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BEING SO PATIENT! and I just want to let you guys know that this isn’t the end of Back to You yet! It’s just the end of the Italy arc of it all. I love you guys! As always, let me now what you think ! <3<3<3

Word count: 1,915

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

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You wake up back in your room, on your bed but still in last night's clothes. You don't see your phone anywhere near you so it must be out in the living room somewhere. You get up, stretching then changed in more comfortable pajamas as you head out to the kitchen to grab some breakfast.

"Armie." You grin with a sleepy daze on your face as you greet the older actor, but unlike any other time, he doesn't grin back or even call your name in greeting. Instead, he swallows whatever was in his mouth, pushing the chair in front of him forward with his foot.

"We need to talk."

You'd never heard Armie sound like this so you immediately follow his orders.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, a classic stressed Armie movie. He must have been bothered by something, perhaps something that you did?

"Listen Y/N, I really thought we reached an understanding back at the hike…" he sighs again, "But I'm almost done with filming and will be heading back to LA for a new movie after this so I won't even have time to contact either of you two and I can only hope for the best, but I have to tell you Y/N, as much as I like you. You're being very selfish." 

You feel your mouth go slightly agape as Armie's words sink in, "Do you notnunderstand how much you've been hurting Timothee? Choosing your ex over him? Leaving him alone with an old friend of the two of you who Timothee doesn't even know? He got here at 7 PM, Y/N. He sat around doing nothing and waited for you while you were off with your ex."

"Armie, you don't understand, it's not that simple-"

"Bullshit, it's not that simple." He hits the table in frustration, "I told him yesterday to get some rest, to forget about you because there are other girls out there, but he still waited for you. How could you do that to him?"

His eyebrows were furrowed, "How could you hurt this boy who has done nothing but show you that he understands you and is willing to wait for you? How could you just let this guy who's so willing to be hurt if it's for your sake, be hurt by you?"

You feel the tears fall from your eyes as you blink, "Armie, I'm sorry, I'm such a jerk. Thimothee should hate me-"

"Yeah, yeah you are a jerk." His voice falters, "and don't tell me you're sorry. Tell that to Timothee, you owe it to him at the least. Tell him how you feel and what you've decided." He looks at you for a second as you contemplate asking him where Timothee is, "He left earlier to pick up your ex and his friend to take them to the train station. They got an earlier ticket."

You rush to your room, get dressed and bolt out the house, grabbing your phone from the coffee table, as you run out the street to hail a cab.

You sit in the cab agitated as you unlock your phone, bombarded with texts and calls from a mixture of Timothee, Haz, and Tom.

You told Tom last night you'd give him an answer, so this is what you were finally going to do. You grab a fistfull of money from your pocket and shove your hand through the middle of the cab, not caring if you paid too much and you bolt out of your seat and onto the train station.

You spot the pale blonde boy among a sea of people by the baggage dropoff and you grab hold of his shoulders, "Where's Tom!?"

Haz blinks at you in surprise, "Y/N! Thank god. He was gonna wait for you and our departure is in 30 minutes, you need to talk to him. He's by the ticket booth."

You push past people, tears in your eyes growing heavy as you see him. Eyes red and swollen probably from crying too.

"Y/N!" He calls out for you looking relieved, reaching his hand out for you to take.

You clasp on it tightly, "Tom." You wipe the tears in your eyes with the sleeve of your free arm, "I'm here to tell you."

He bites his bottom lip, noticing your lack of bags, "Y/N. Let's fix it, let's fix us." He grabs both your hands and he rests his forehead on yours, "Let's leave all this bullshit behind, let's finally start our family and live like normal people. We can travel the world."

You shut your eyes, relishing in Tom's atmosphere, "Tom, you love your job." You sigh, "And just because having a normal, quiet life is something I've always wanted, doesn't mean that's what you need to want too." You sigh, "Why did you come here?"

The tears spring to his eyes, "Because I don't want to be without you, Y/N. And this was my last chance. I was so willing to leave everything behind because having everything without you would just be nothing." He clutches your hands tight, "Because after this, I don't know if I can ever even talk to you again. Because I decided to choose you over this life that I worked so hard for, because my management team in Marvel is making me do something that means I can't talk to you anymore and you're going to end up hating me for it and I can't live with that and I can't live without you. Because, I-I want to choose you, and I'd choose you over and over and over again. Because I want to be with you…" he trails off, "But that isn't what you want, is it?" His smile is sad but understanding, a true love.

You shake your head gently, "Tom, we were perfect even in the ways we weren't but I have to see where things end up with Timothee. He was there for me. I need to live a life without you in it to live for myself." You hold his cheek in your hand, "And I love you. I always will, but now isn't the time for us. I want you to choose your dreams over me. Right now, we have to live our own lives without each other. I can't have you throwing your dreams away because of me. And I've needed you and leaned on you for so long that it took me this long to realize I have to live without you to learn to be who I am. Timothy's like me. He needs me… and I needed you. But I need to live a life where I don't any more." 

He sighs, accepting your decision, slowly bringing his face to yours as your tears mixed with his in a tender kiss. He breaks apart first, leaning his forehead against yours again, "Bye Y/N. I really hope we find our way back to each other one day." 

You embrace him tight as the sob reverbitates through your body, "Bye Tom. I love you. I always will." You kiss him on the cheek, letting him go as he boards the train, leaving you on the platform looking vulnerable with your long sleeves covering your hands as you clutched them together, you kiss you fingers lifting that same hand to say goodbye, and the train moves on, farther and farther until you couldn't see it anymore and there weren't anymore people on the platform.

You walk out the station, already recognizing the mop of brown curly hair and you sit next to him quietly.

"I saw you, running out the cab, even when you took out all your money and gave it to the guy and I thought, how the hell does this goober think she's getting home?" He chuckles.

You look at him quietly, "With you." You answer surely.

Timothee's laugh is cut short.

You turn to face him, "Because you're always there for me, and you always will be."

He tries to look at something else aside from your face but you grab his face in both of your hands and make him look at you.

"How could I not?"

You speak quietly, "You should hate me."

He sighs, "But I don't." He rolls his eyes playfully, "And I never could." 

You sigh, "But you should. Because I've treated you like crap since Tom got here and I've been so unfair to you. You should scream at the air and then at me because I've done nothing but hurt you, and you should tell me that you want nothing to do with me and tell me you hope that you don't meet anyone like me ever again. You should call me a bad person, because I am and a user because I've always taken advantage of you being nice to me. You should tell Luca how terrible of a person I am and maybe, just maybe he'll write me out of the movie so that you at least don't have to see me for the rest of filming. You should hate me for everything I've done to you." You sob.

His hand reaches out to grab your own, pulling you down so you were sitting next to him, "I don't want to scream at you. I normally wouldn't but given that look you're giving me while you're crying your eyes out, I especially don't want to. Who cares if I've gotten hurt? We're actors, we have to feel things for the sake of our art." He wipes the tears from your cheeks, smiling sadly, "And if I let you go now, then I really don't meet anyone like you ever again and I don't want that. You aren't a bad person, Y/N."

"But I am!" You cry, "You don't deserve what I've been doing to you-"

"I don't care." He shrugs, "Simple as that, I don't care if you hurt me, make me into your punching bag for all I care, all I care about is the calm look in your eyes when we're together, how your laugh sounds like bells, the way your nose crinkles when you laugh at my corny jokes, or even the way you run your hands through your hair when you're stressed. I don't feel alone when I'm with you, Y/N and you always take care of me and you didn't even shy away when I was having that panic attack a few days ago. So how could you ever expect me to hate you when all I want to do is love you and all you've ever done for me is make me feel less alone and loved? How could anyone ever expect me to hate you when I see you like how I see you?" 

You two sit there for a while, just staring at each other, "Did you talk to him?"

You nod, "I did. And I told him what I wanted to do with the situation we were in."

His face drops slightly, "Oh."

You nod, "I told him I wanted to be with you."

His face brightens in surprise, "Oh."

You nod along, "Yeah."

"Then, can I-?"

You scoff, "I'd be insulted if you didn't" you laugh as he pulls you in for a kiss.

He breaks apart first, firehead resting against yours, "What happens after Italy?"

You sigh, eyes still closed, "We'll get there when we get there."

[billcpher111fics]

DE IN THE SEA Ch1

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Ao3

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Based off of a prompt by @5am-the-foxing-hour

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De is a quiet sailor on a new ship. He never expected to sail under the infamous pirate twins Roman and Remus, but all that mattered to him was that he was out on the open sea. Somewhere that he longed to be from a very young age.

But maybe there is a deeper reason why he was so desperate to be closer to the water.

------

De watched over the side of the ship as the waves passed by, scrubbing the deck with a mop as other crew members kept an eye on him. It was fine, he was used to not being trusted. At least these people were better than his old crew. They were the worst, but these guys seemed fine, even with there reputation.

De was an ex-sailor turned pirate after running off from his home town. He hopped from ship to ship for a while till eventually joining under a Pirate captain who appreciated his skills in deception and persuasion. They didn't treat him too kindly, as expected, mostly using and abusing him. De's had worse so it was fine. Then his ship was attacked by the Notorious twins, Roman and Remus, Devils of the sea. He had heard the story of the two. They were born to a wealthy noble family, but as they grew they found that the lifestyle began to bore them. So, together they grabbed as much loot as they could and ran, disappearing into the night only to be seen again on the open sea as devilish pirate captains of a mighty crew.

De's old crew stood no chance, they were slaughtered. De was the only one to survive and was taken aboard to become their new crewmate.

Ever since then they had kept a sharp eye on him, never letting him get to close to the swords or knives, fearing he would cause mutiny. De didn't care enough to cause them any trouble. As far as he could see they had yet to give him a reason to fight back. They haven't hit him, they fed him, there was no yelling at him for simple mistakes. The only thing that mattered to him was that he was sailing on the open sea, it was his dream. He had no idea why but he had always felt drawn to the ocean ever since he was a young boy.

When he was young, he would climb the highest cliff in his village just to get a glimpse at the oceans' beautiful waters, wishing for a day where he, too, could sail across its waves. As long as he had that, what else mattered?

"What a wonderful day! Aint is, Snake Eyes?" De jumped at the sound of Remus' voice. He had been staring at the sea so intently that he hadn't even noticed his captain come up behind him.

"Yes, Sir." He answered softly and respectfully. The crew had been good to him so far, he didn't want to push his luck, Though he did roll his eyes slightly at the name. It was, of course, referring to his yellow slitted eyes. The deformity was just another reason that people have used to beat or shun him in his past. 

"You like the sea?" Remus asked, leaning on the railing of the ship. De had been on their ship for over two weeks and no one knew anything about him, other than his first name witch they still weren't sure was his real name. Remus wanted to get to know him if he was going to be staying on there crew for the next while.

"Yes, Captian." He said as he looked down and continued to move the mop in one place.

Remus didn't like how quiet and reserved de was being. It almost seemed like De was afraid of him. Well... That would make sense to Remus, he did slaughter his previous crew and captain. Maybe he was just scared? It's not like Remus would hurt him, he was a member of his crew now, and he would never hurt one of his own. "How long have you been at sea?" Remus asked, "You don't look very old, so you couldn't have been out here for too long. What are you? 27? 28?" He asked, taking the mop from De so they could chat.

"25 actually," De responded, deciding it was ok to give him a little information about himself. "And I've been out on the sea for 9 years."

"9 years?! You were 17? You would have just been a little babe, definitely too early for a pirates life!" Remus exclaimed.

De did his best to ignore the stares from the other crew as he shrunk in on himself, "I didn't start off as a pirate. I worked on a few cargo ships, one thing led to another and I ended up in a pirate ship. Then here." De explained.

Remus nodded as he leaned against the mop handle, "So, how did you end up on the pirate ship anyway?" Remus asked, starting to get invested in this kid's story. He wanted to learn more about him.

"Well," De began, "The cargo ship I worked on at the time had stopped at a port that had a big casino, I and a few of the other guys decided to go try our luck. I've never been to a casino before so I wasn't planning on betting much, incase I sucked. But apparently, I was a natural. It's like I was in my element. Within the first hour, I had easily made a few thousand with no loss. I was also able to talk around people and trick them into getting more and more. No one could beat me." He said, remembering how much he had been winning. "And I guess the old cap saw me and dollar sings must have lit up in his eyes. He offered me a spot on his crew and I said yes, it's not like I had anything else to do and all I wanted to do was be on the sea." De shrugged, "and that was that. I was apart of his crew."

"What about your family? Did you tell them you were joining a pirate crew?" Remus asked curiously.

De sighed at the question before taking his mop back from Remus, "I think its time I got back to my work now, Captian." He said, glancing around at the people who tried to pretend they weren't just listening to there conversation.

Remus pouted, "Aw! But I wanted to learn more about you!"

"Maybe another time captain," De said, "I have to get this deck clean."

[kidofthekat]

Salty Outcasts chapter 5 - Adrien

Masterpost

Tom and Sabine were eternally grateful to their part-timers. They knew Marinette had recently been very stressed, not that she had told them why, and so stopped asking her to cover their shifts if they wanted to go out, but, of course, that meant they simply weren’t able to go out. It had been Tom’s idea to hire some people to work in the bakery, and after two weeks of training, they were ready to work and Tom and Sabine were ready to go on a well-earned date.

That morning both had woken up extra early, almost like kids excited for their school trip. By the time the part timers had arrived, all the pastries were in the oven and the two owners were half-way out the door.

They had already had breakfast in a lovely café by the Eiffel tower after a walk by the Seine and were now strolling through a beautiful park with large willow trees and a carousel much larger than the one near the bakery. Tom whistled an old tune they had sung to Marinette when she was younger and Sabine nodded along, a bright smile on her face.

Slowing as they reached a crowd of people, they saw the familiar blonde mop of hair that belonged to their daughter’s ex-crush. He was fidgeting in his seat as countless makeup and hair artists got him ready for his photoshoot.

Both bakers had been parents for years and quickly recognised the boy’s discomfort, though they suspected most of the workers could see it too as they tried to finish their tasks in record speed.

“My boy,” Tom called as he pushed his way through the sea of people and clapped Adrien on the back, “how have you been?”

After the initial shock of hearing Tom’s booming voice, Adrien immediately relaxed into the bear hug he had been pulled into. The change in demeanour had not gone unnoticed by Gabriel’s workers and they all stepped back, a few going over to talk to a man with a camera around his neck.

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck out of habit, “I’m okay, thanks M. Dupain.”

“Please call me Tom.”

“And me Sabine.”

“Also don’t lie to me.” Tom added with his eyebrows furrowed.

“Lie? I didn’t lie s-sir.”

Tom sighed and bent to the boy’s level, “Look son, you and Marinette are very similar in lots of ways, including the way you wear your heart on your sleeve.” Sabine tapped her husband’s shoulder and nodded in the direction of a group of workers whispering furiously before walking towards them as Tom continued his talk.

“I can see that you are hurt, that you are uncomfortable and that despite that model smile on your face, you really hate doing this.”

“I have to mons- uh, Tom, my Father said it is best for the company.” Adrien tried to muster a smile but gave up when he realised it wasn’t working on the baker.

“But what about you? What’s best for you?”

“The company comes first.”

“Oh my boy, come here.” Tom gave Adrien another tight hug, only letting him go when Sabine whispered something in his ear.

Nodding at his wife, Tom put his hand on Adrien’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes, “Come with us.”

“I would love to Tom, I really would, but I have to complete the shoot.”

Sabine spoke up for the first time, “No you don’t dear, it has been cancelled.”

“What? Father never cancels shoots.”

“Well, the photographer is sick.” Sabine smirked as realisation dawned on Adrien’s faced. He looked round the couple to see Vincent giving him the thumbs up and coughing into his phone, Adrien supposed he was talking to Nathalie.

Waving goodbye, he followed Tom and Sabine out the park and in the general direction of the bakery.

“So, Adrien, have you eaten this morning?”

“No, there wasn’t enough time when we left the mansion.”

“Were you asked if you wanted to do this photoshoot?”

“No, I think the only time I was asked was right before my first shoot, so about six years ago.”

“Do you get payed?”

“It goes in a trust fund.”

“Did your father warn you of the shoot beforehand?”

“No, but that’s because I don’t see him often, Nathalie did though, on Monday.”

“How often do you see your father?”

“Once a fortnight, or if I schedule a meeting with him, but that usually takes a while to get processed.”

“SCHEDULE? PROCESSED?”

“Tom, please calm down, for Adrien’s sake.” Adrien had jumped and cowered at Tom’s raised voice, flinching away when he looked at him.

Tom took a deep breath and spoke in the softest tone he could manage, “Adrien, my boy, I’m sorry for scaring you, it’s just that a child shouldn’t have to schedule a meeting with their parents, M. Agreste acts more like a boss than a father, and it makes me so angry.”

“It’s okay Tom.”

“No, no it isn’t.” Sabine shook her head, visibly disturbed by Gabriel’s approach to parenting.

“Son, do you want to come to the bakery for brunch? Or would you prefer to do something else?”

Adrien chose the bakery and gave the towering man one of his sunshine smiles that only his friends had ever been graced with. The man in front of him, though not his actual father, had acted more like one in the past 15 minutes than Gabriel had since his mum disappeared.

He asked what I wanted to do! Didn’t say I had to or pressure me into doing it, asked!

He rubbed his eyes to clear any tears and marked this moment as how an actual father should act. He had always known that Gabriel wasn’t a model father (pun!) but upon seeing Marinette’s parents and the way they treated him, Adrien decided he was done forgiving his father unless he stepped up his game.

Running to catch up with the pair who had unknowingly solved his dilemma, Adrien smiled broadly, settling into the easy rhythm of joking and chatting with the them. Apparently Tom loved puns as much as him, and although Sabine didn’t mind them, Marinette had a raging hatred towards any form of word play. Tom and Adrien were forming a plan to change Marinette’s mind and Sabine was laughing as she imagined her daughter’s fury at what was to come as they came close to the bakery.

Doing a little skip when he smelled the croissants, Adrien ignored Tom and Sabine’s giggles and pushed open the bakery door, today was turning out much better than he thought it would.

Thanks for reading and thank you @flufflepuffle296 for proof reading.

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Taglist:

@kanamexzeroyaoifangirl

@lilkymilky

@mythogaygic

@aestheticnpoetic

[yuna-dan]

Only the Ocean.  Prelude: Hey there, lonely girl.

So, I did went wild.

Anyways, this is a Pirate AU, but slightly modern, mainly because of my terrible english, haha.

Special thanks, once again to @awkwardkindanerd​, @logically-asexual​ and @just-some-gt-trash​

--

Summary: "It was almost as if the ocean would talked to me, you know" Remus did know, of course he did."Yes, I understand."Logan have always feel a deep connection with the sea, for some reason.

Warning: Off Toxic Relationship. Body Horror. Minor Character Death.

Relationship: Logince. Platonic Intrulogical. Dukceit. Moxiety You can read it on AO3

--

Romulus didn’t understand why he never fit it. It wasn’t as if he was a bad king, he was an excellent king, mind you. He ruled merpeople and sea creatures with kindness, and the Kingdom was flourishing, so it wasn’t that he was scared of something.

He was, lonely. He hated feeling like that.

One day, he was mopping on his loneliness near the shore when he saw her. The most beautiful human he had ever laid eyes on. He couldn’t help but followed her, and to his surprise, she lived near the shore, one small hole allowed him to peek into her house.

She also seemed lonely. 

Being king, had its perks, one being that he could leave the throne room and the kingdom whenever he wanted. From that day on he decided to use that perk, and every morning he would sing to his lady.

---

Rachel was a lonely woman. It didn’t exactly bother her, except it completely bothered her. When she left his ex-husband, it was for the best, she still has to cover some bruises he left.

She sighed, and only then she started to hear the same melody from every day. It almost seemed as if the melody came from the sea.

She has always loved the sea, that’s why when she left him, she decided to find a house near the ocean. 

She opened the window and smiled when the melody became stronger. She leaned into the balcony and stared into the small waves that hit her house, and only then she saw a red tail shining into the water.

She smiled.

--

Romulus visited her every day, until one day a small thing got into the water and he stopped singing. He looked up and saw her throwing things into the water. Some fishes decided to start eating it.

“Is it good?” He asked a clownfish, who nodded. He tried it.

It was good.

-

Rachel saw her red fish eating the cookie she was breaking and throwing from the balcony and she smiled.

It was dumb, she knew, but whenever the red fish visited her, the melody also came, and she felt less lonely.

--

It was in the middle of the night when Rachel noticed that the fish, it wasn’t really a fish but a freaking merman. 

“Please don’t scream.” He said, showing his hands that had some thin skin in between his fingers.

“You sing to me…” It was all she could say.

“Yes.”

They smiled, and suddenly they weren’t lonely anymore.

--

The first time Romulus shape to his human form in front of her, it was also their first kiss, and their first time together. 

Romulus continue to be an amazing king, so no one had any complaint that he would disappear some days.

Rachel was like a ghost in the town she lived, but when Romulus was around, she couldn’t care less.

--

Romulus stared at her as if she was speaking another language, “What do you mean pregnant?” He finally asked, “Are you going to lay eggs?”

Rachel laughed gently, and took his hand, putting it on her belly “Something like that. You are going to be a father, Rom.” She smiled.

--

The first time Rachel went into the ocean, she was holding into Romulus’ arm for her life and yet admiring everything, the rest of merpeople were whispering into a language she didn’t understand.

“Why can’t I understand them?” Romulus smiled at her. 

“I didn’t know you could speak Atlantean, sweetheart.” She pouted.

“I understand you.” 

“Yes, but I learn English, remember the first times?” She laughed, and it was true, Romulus stuttering was such a funny thing.

Romulus introduced Rachel to the kingdom counselors, who were shocked at the beginning, but smiled. Rachel was so creeped out she didn’t know dolphins could smiled, what the actual fuck.

“I supposed this is your goodbye, your majesty.” Said an older merman, swimming closer to them.

Romulus first translated to Rachel, “It is, sir. My wife is expecting babies, and soon I will be a father.”

“Very well, my king.” The merman, said in that language Rachel didn’t understand, “Just remember that us merpeople can’t be to apart from the sea for a long period of time.”

“I know, sir.”

They threw a small goodbye party to King Romulus, the best King they could’ve ever asked for.

-

Rachel kissed her husband as they stared the small crib were two babies fall asleep, “Roman is a merman,” Romulus said, chuckling when the small golden and red tail tapped (golpeteaba) the bed. “The sages say he can spend all the time he wanted outside the Ocean since he is half human.” He kissed the forehead of his son, who giggled and suddenly his tail shift into two small, chubby legs.

Rachel would probably never get used to that, “Remus is human,” He continued, petting the small tentacle his son created, “Apparently he can shift whenever he can into whatever sea creature and can breathe under water even in his human form.”

“This is so surreal.” She said, finally. “I ended up marrying the king of seas,”

“… ex-king, actually.”

“And having two beautiful babies.” She shushed him with a small kiss, “If they get sick, do I take them to the doctor or to the vet?”

---

Romulus knew he should’ve spent more time in the water, so when he noticed that death was close, it was too late.

The kids were merely five years old.

--

Rachel died when the twins were sixteen years old.

--

Rumor has it, that only one twin went back into the water. There’s no evidence of what happened to the other one.

Time passed by, and the story of Rachel and Romulus was forgotten by everyone. 

--

Sometimes, when King Roman was feeling lonely, he would sing to the moon.

Sometimes, when Captain Remus was feeling lonely, he would sing to the moon

At least, they still have each other.

---

So, yes. The hole is a window, btw. 

Romulus song is this one but instead of the piano is him doing aahhhs like Ariel when Ursula took away his voice. 

All the chapters will have the title of a song, and this one was this and the fic on this one

If you wanna be tagged on future fics please reach to this

@theunoriginaldaisy​

[wherewindysurgeswend]

Deep heart’s core: chapter three

chapter one

chapter two

taglist (please dm, send an ask or leave a comment if you’d like to be added or removed): @tunes-on-a-typewriter @rememberedkisses

Kathleen walked quickly towards the first-class lounge. Right before turning the corner, she smoothed her hair, straightened her posture and assumed a snooty expression. Then, she walked in as confidently as she possibly could, trying her hardest not to burst out laughing. 

None of the passengers paid her much attention. Most of them were reading magazines or newspapers. Some were talking in hushed voices. One or two women were knitting. A young man in the far corner of the room seemed to be watching her from behind his newspaper, but she didn’t care.

Larry was sitting in the first-class lounge, pretending to be interested in a copy of his uncle’s newspaper, when a pretty, dark-skinned girl with a mop of curly black hair walked in. This was of interest to Larry only because he had been under the impression that he knew all the first-class passengers by sight if not by name (you were bound to meet a lot of them if you spent most of your time at the bar or in the ballroom), but he was certain he had never seen this girl before. It wasn’t just that the people who frequented the first-class lounge tended to be white, and this girl wasn’t, although that was a factor. The main reason he was so sure they hadn’t met before was that she had a face that would be hard to forget. There was a vibrancy and easy self-assuredness in her expression that few people Larry had ever met had. Nonetheless, she carried herself as if she was where she belonged, so Larry figured maybe he had met her the previous evening but had been too drunk to remember.

As Larry watched in amazement, the girl walked up to each person in the lounge one by one and struck up a conversation with each one. He couldn’t quite hear what she was saying, but after talking to each passenger for about a minute, they would laugh, and she would move on, waving as if to an old friend. 

After a few minutes of this, the girl approached Larry. “Darling!” she exclaimed, “It’s perfectly marvelous to see you!” Larry blinked a few times.

“Do I know you?” 

“You mean you don’t remember me?” She looked genuinely hurt.

“Er — I’m afraid not.” She looked even more hurt. Larry was about to try to comfort her when the unexpected happened — she laughed. “You shouldn’t,” she said, “We’ve never met.” Larry stared at her. “Then why….?” she laughed again.

“I wanted to see if I could fool you.”

“Wait a minute,” Larry asked, beginning to understand what was going on, “Just how many of the people in here do you know?”

“None.”

“That’s…. That’s amazing, is what that is! How did you do it? And more importantly, why?”

“I wanted to test my theory.”

“Which is….?”

“If you act like you know what you’re doing, people will believe just about anything. None of the people in here have ever seen me, but if I acted convincingly enough like we were old friends, they would have no choice but to assume I was telling the truth, and they would be too embarrassed to admit they had forgotten who I was. I had a perfect score, too, until I met you.”

“I suppose I’m the exception that proves the rule.” The girl laughed.

“I guess you are.”

“Now, since you’re so adept at fooling people, I suppose we ought to be friends. I’d much rather have you on my side than not. I’m Larry.” He held out his hand for her to shake.

“Larry. What’s that short for?”

“Larold.”

“No it’s not.”

“No it is not. It’s short for Lenry.”

“That’s not it either, is it?”

“What does it matter? You just want me to say on the record that my name is Lawrence, don’t you?”

“Maybe so. You don’t look like a Lawrence.”

“What’s your name, then, so I can tell you if you look like it?”

“Kathleen.”

Anna and Margaret were looking out at the ocean, talking idly about nothing in particular when Kathleen came around the corner. She was followed closely by a young man Anna and Margaret both recognized at once.

 “You!” Anna blurted out.

“Larry?” exclaimed an incredulous Margaret at the same time.

“Afternoon, Peggy,” Larry said graciously. Margaret was glancing back and forth between Larry, Kathleen and Anna in disbelief. “How do you know Larry?” she asked Anna.

“You might say your friend here fell for me,” Larry said with a grin. Margaret looked even more confused. “That’s a funny way of saying you bumped into me and knocked me over,” said Anna, recovering the power of speech. “Oh, Larry, you didn’t!” exclaimed Margaret.

“He did,” said Anna.

“Your friend here is, unfortunately, correct. I did.” he turned to Anna, “I didn’t get your name?” “No, I expect you didn’t, since you ran away while I was picking up my things. It’s Anna Byrne.” 

“Pleased to meet you. My name is Lawrence Sterling Kittredge, Jr. But you may call me Larry.” Nothing about what he had said was especially funny, but his tone of voice and expression were so comical that Anna couldn’t help but laugh. “Another Kittredge…. are you and Margaret related, then?”

“Peggy is my cousin. My favourite cousin, I might add.”

“I’m your only cousin who doesn’t hate your guts.”

“Hence why you’re my favourite.” Kathleen was looking more puzzled by the second. 

“Jesus Christ, does everyone on this boat know each other or something?” 

“How do you know Larry, anyway?” Margaret asked, turning to face Kathleen.

“We met in the first class lounge.”

“She was trying to see how many people she could talk into thinking they had already met. It nearly worked on me.”

“And just how drunk were you at the time?” Margaret asked.

“Not at all. I was stone cold sober. I swear it to God.”

“Larry! I’ve never known you to take the lord’s name in vain like that before!” Larry pretended to be hurt. “Oh, cold, cruel Margaret! You have so little faith in me.”

“You wouldn’t have faith in you either if you knew yourself.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.” Margaret tossed her head.

“I don’t take criticism on what makes sense from someone who thought Cary Grant and Gary Cooper were the same person until eight months ago,” she said disdainfully.

“They look eerily similar and —”

“They do not,” Kathleen interrupted.

“And they have almost the same first name! Have you ever seen the two of them in the same room together? It seemed perfectly reasonable at the time.”

“Anything can seem ‘perfectly reasonable’ when you come up with it after you’ve had seven martinis. That doesn’t make it correct.” Larry pretended to be deeply offended.

“I didn’t come here to be mocked. Come on Kathleen, You’re my only ally.”

“No I’m not, I think you’re just as ridiculous as Margaret says you are.”

“Oh, how alone I am! Whoever can I turn to?”

“All right, all right, that’s enough with the dramatics,” Margaret interjected, “did mother tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Phyllis is going to be in Paris at the same time as us.”

“Which Phyllis? Phyllis Schuyler or Phyllis Andersen?”

“Phyllis Schuyler.”

“Well, won’t that be fun? I couldn’t think of a better way to spend a trip,” Larry said drily. 

“What’s the matter?” Anna asked. Margaret had mentioned Phyllis to her but she didn’t know what Larry could possibly have against her. “You remember how I said Phyllis had two broken engagements?” said Margaret. Anna nodded.

“One of them was to Larry.” Anna laughed incredulously.

“No! That can’t possibly be true.”

“I regret to inform you that it is,” said Larry, “so you see how this puts me in an awkward position. Two weeks in Paris with my aunt and uncle, both of whom despise me, and my ex-fiancée. Christ, it’s like something out of a movie.”

“Not just two weeks in Paris. She’s going home on the same boat as us.”

“She isn’t!”

“She is.”

“Peggy, you may have to shoot me. I don’t know if I can get through this.”

“Don’t be silly. How am I supposed to get through it without you?”

Anna and Margaret spent the evening on deck, watching the sunset in comfortable silence. As the full moon was rising and the stars were coming out, Anna turned to Margaret. “Can I ask you a question?” Margaret nodded.

“Are you happy?” Margaret hesitated.

“I — well, I guess so.” “Don’t you sometimes feel like you’re missing something?”

“Of course I do. Everyone does, I think.”

“I guess so. It’s just — you looked so sad. Just now, I mean. You were looking out at the sea, and you just looked heartbroken or something.” Margaret forced herself to laugh.

“Don’t be silly. I’m fine. I promise.” She squeezed Anna’s hand. Anna didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t say anything else. 

They sat there silently for a few minutes, but it wasn’t the easy silence from before. There was something loaded in it. Finally, Margaret spoke. “Anna?” Anna turned to face her.

“I have a question for you, now.” Anna didn’t say anything, so Margaret carried on.

“Why did you become a reporter? Why not something else?”

“Well, a girl’s gotta eat. I had to do something, and I guess journalism seemed like something I wouldn’t be too bad at, and I kind of liked the idea. Blame it on the movies. It seemed exciting and romantic. You know, telling the untold stories, standing up for the downtrodden, all that sort of thing.” Margaret nodded thoughtfully.

“But say you didn’t have to eat,” Margaret said after a long pause, “Say money wasn’t a concern. What would you do then?”

“Well,” Anna said slowly, “you know that poem by Yeats — The Lake Isle of Innisfree?” Margaret nodded. “You know how it says ‘and live alone in the bee-loud glade’? Well, that’s what I would do. I would get myself a cottage near a lake and live there all by myself.”

“But wouldn’t you get lonely?” Anna considered this.

“I guess so. But not for a while yet. For as long as I can remember, things have been noisy and hectic. That’s O.K. most of the time, but sometimes I just want some peace and quiet. If I could, I would just isolate myself until I got tired of peace and quiet. It’s like the poem says — ‘peace comes dropping slow’. I expect it would take me years, decades, even, to get tired of peace.”

“But wouldn’t you get bored?” Margaret persisted, “All alone like that….”

“Maybe so. But I’d still want to try it. I could always come back if I couldn’t stand it. What about you? What would you do if you could do whatever you wanted?” Margaret was taken aback. She hadn’t expected Anna to turn her own question back on her. Truth be told, she didn’t have an answer. All her life, someone had been telling her what to do. What would she do if nobody was telling her? She had always longed to break free from her obligations, but now it occurred to her that she had no idea what she would do with herself. So she did what she always did in this sort of situation — she said something flippant. “I guess I would just run away and have as much fun as possible before I die,” she said with a forced laugh. Anna looked at her like she knew that wasn’t true, but she didn’t say anything. She figured it was best to keep her mouth shut. They tried to just look out at the sea and the night sky like before, but it wasn’t the same. The spectre of Margaret’s unspoken truth floated between them. Not more than five minutes later, they were both back in their cabins. Neither slept very well that night.

[fireworkfidelis]

M!a: "i thought you were a helmbreaker; what's this nicey-nice shit?" Makes equius like he was in the heyday of his career for five days or however long the mun feels like it

Your name is EQUIUS AMPORA, and you are TALL, DARK, and BUSY. You have many INTERESTS, including but not limited to FISH OF ASTOUNDING SIZE; HORSES OF LAND, SEA, AND AIR; and IMPRESSING HER IMPERIAL MATRIARC, LONG MAY SHE REIGN, WITH YOUR CAREER PERFORMANCE SO SHE DOESN'T GUT YOU LIKE WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR ANCESTOR, SUPPOSEDLY.

...Okay, so, that last interest got a little overspecific, and since when do you inner monologue with caps lock on, anyway? Whatever, not important.

What is important is that it is your sixth week with your new "challenge case" - its eyes remind you of The Azimech, AKA the World's Freakiest Helm.

It isn't trying to chew its own arms off like the Meridian did when you were assigned to it, so that's...well, if you can call that a plus, then more power to you.

...But the day has not begun as you expect. For one thing, there is an outfit laid out for you that is Not your uniform, a little note signed with a diamond in the appropriate shade of pink pinned to it, and you see a schedule pinned up on your wall. It's color-coded. All your favorite colors - desaturated blue, lavender, pearl, and foamy green.

On closer inspection, you decide that these are all ridiculous pranks, as that is the wrong date by multiple sweeps, and you don't have a moirail. You never had, your only ex being of the flushed variety.

Ugh. Great. So it'll be one of those nights.

If your helm has not locked you in your quarters again, you'll consider the evening a success. No, you think, getting into your closet where, comfortingly, your perfectly pressed uniform hangs unmolested, the bar is too low. You are supposed to expect better of it. If you can make it to the mess to get your coffee--

Your door alert goes off and you jump badly. You aren't DRESSED.

You hear giggling, and boots receding. You'll check the camera later. You have to get dressed.

Of course, you're distracted from that, too, looking up from your lovingly stored uniform and into the mirror, where you can do nothing but stare and shriek.

Your hair! It took you sweeps to grow it out to your shoulders!! But it's shorn fully off, only the barest mop on top left, and all throughout your head, you see violet! Locks of it here and there, falling on your forehead!

You storm back into your block and snatch up the husk that is only for communicating with the Prefect, take it into the ablution block with you, and dress while furiously demanding the meaning of this nonsense, and where the crew member responsible is, and your eyes burn into the camera with fangs bared.

[ask-de-writer]

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 4 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 4 of 83

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

copyright 2020

written 2007

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users  of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may  reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information  remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in  my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical  compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story?  Read from the beginning.  PART 1 is here

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“Aye, she’s t’e very ane.  ‘Ow’d ye know ‘er line an’ folk?”

“My mother, Evanstar Morn Dannav, was her mother’s identical twin.  She raised me on stories of their escapades.  Twenty-one Gatherings ago, she married onto the Grandalor.  I am Tanlin’s cousin, though I’ve never met her before.”

While they were talking, the Princamorn rolled off the coral head and settled down into the crystal waters of the lagoon.  She lay on her side about thirty five or forty feet down.

Soon, the divers began to sound and surface, making notes on waterproofed paperfish parchment.  In a few hours they had conducted and documented a survey of the wreck for salvage assessment.

While he waited for the divers to finish their work, Barad retired to his cabin.  Chena, his cabin-girl was seated on his lap, a two-leaved tallow-slate open before her on the chart table.  Her brows were knit as she studied the problem before her.  I wish that I could follow this Arrakan arithomatics the way Barad does.  He makes it seem so easy.  Their crazy writing is easier by far, and it’s a pain. She looked once again at the rows of interrelated figures that Barad was trying to get her to understand.  I wish that he’d get his hand off my breast.  I can’t concentrate!  These Arrakan function things!  I’ll never get them to work!  A knock at the locked door caused Barad to flip her slate shut and toss it to his bed.  He pushed her behind the bed hangings as well.  Sliding open the door, he admitted his Purser, Mister Morgu, who was carrying a set of account books, and Master Selked who was bearing the diver’s still wet reports on the condition of the wreck.

Studying the dripping reports, Master Selked, the Grandalor’s chief boat-wright, famous for the quality of the tools that he made, told Barad, “The Princamorn is not that severely damaged, other than the hull breach.  She can be easily salvaged.  If we are prompt, most of the capital goods in her shops and much of her cargo and stores should be savable as well.  

Mister Morgu, the Grandalor’s Purser rubbed his hands together in glee at the thought.  “We hold the rights to the wreck, Captain.  It is easily worth seventy five thousand Strong Skins.  Even after the costs of salvage, we stand to make better than fifty thousand Skins in profit.”

Barad’s pale blue eyes speared Morgu like harpoons.  He shook his unruly mop of blond hair, now going gray, and said mildly, “I did say that these folk are not to be looted.  We have made easily thrice that amount by trading with them.  We shall indeed assert our claim to the salvageable wreck.  If the Arrakans recognize our claim, we will return the Princamorn to her survivors at the cost of salvage plus a reasonable sum for our lost ship-time.”

“But Sir,” Morgu started to protest, seeing a large amount of money vanishing from his grasp.

Quelling the protest with a raised hand, Barad looked past his blade of a nose and said coolly, “I expect to gain far more than I lose in this deal, Morgu. Fear not.

“Would you be so good as to go and get Captain P’osettin and Purser Rostow and bring them here to discuss the matter of their ship?”

Am I an errand boy? thought Morgu irritatedly as he said, “Yes, Sir. I’ll attend to it at once.”  He slid the cabin door shut behind him and spoke to the ever-present cabin boy waiting in the passageway.  “Benj, go get what’s her name, Poset — something and, Rostu is it?  You know, the Princamorn’s ex-captain and Purser.”

Benj, irritated at Morgu’s deliberate mangling of the names of people that he had met and liked, said, “Captain P’osettin and Purser Rostow; yes, Sir.  I’ll get them,” and ran in the direction of the mess hall, where the survivors were being put up for now. Shortly he returned, leading both Captain and Purser.

Morgu made a show of sliding open the door and escorting them into Brad’s cabin. Captain P’osettin was a tall, rangy woman with black hair, tied back in a complex knot and braid.  Purser Rostow was small man, a little over five feet tall, gray of hair and elderly.  That he had been crying was obvious.

Barad turned to them and gestured them to comfortable chairs.  “Captain P’osettin, Purser Rostow, I regret intruding on your grief.  Losing ship and home must be hard.  I need help.  I know your trade laws well enough but I need information about your salvage laws.”

“Ca’tain Barad,” said P’osettin in a voice roughened by Gatherings of shouting commands, “Rostow ‘as lost more t’an merely ‘ome an’ ship.”

Barad, remembering the death of his own wife, said quietly, “Dragons, please, not Norrin?”

Mutely Rostow nodded. Captain P’osettin, said, “She was foremast lookoot.  Tried t’ warn us o’ t’e ‘ead but we couldnae turn in time.  Went t’ Iren’s ‘alls when t’e mast went down.  ‘er body wa’ nae recovered.”

“My condolences, said Barad sincerely.  This was a feeling that he was all too familiar with.  “Can you help us or do you need more time to yourself?”

Pulling himself together with a deeply drawn breath, Rostow replied, “‘Aving a task t’ do ‘ll ‘elp.  W’at’s yer need?”

Barad turned to Captain P’osettin first.  “Ma’am, I ask your permission to open your ship’s Logs and accounts.”

“As salver, ye need nae permission Ca’tain Barad,” she answered.  “T’ey’re yers t’ do wit’ as ye see fit.  T’e Logs’ll ‘ave t’ be given t’ t’e Arrakan Council for t’e archive,”

“Still, a friend asks,” Barad returned with a serious smile.

That brought a return smile from P’osettin and a ghost of one from Rostow.  “We were fortunate t’ ‘ave ye close, Barad.  Ye saved many o’ m’ crew from Dark Iren’s ‘alls beneat’ t’e sea.

“W’at ye need now’s a survey o’ t’e wreck, wit’ position.  T’at must be filed wit’ t’e nearest Council ship t’ secure yer claim. T’at’ll be t’e Wavenruner.  T’en, an’ only t’en, can work begin.

“M’ crew’ll be Scattered over t’e fleet at t’e next Gat’ering.  Once t’e Princamorn’s afloat an’ independent ye can put a prize crew on ‘er.  She’ll be sold an’ newcrewed at t’e next Gat’ering.”

“Is it legal,” Barad asked with an intense stare, “for me to sell her and recrew her before the next Gathering?  And with that, can I appoint her Captain?”

It was Rostow who answered this one.  “‘T would be legal t’ do all t’at ye say, t’ough ‘t ‘as never been dune before.  T’e Ca’taincy wad be subject t’ Council approval, o’ course.  All Ca’taincies are.

“W’ere wad ye find purchasers or crew on such short notice?  T’e ‘ole project wad cost on t’e close order o’ twenty or t’irty t’ousand Skins.”

Instead of answering directly, Barad leaned back in his chair and looked up at the web-work of beams and stringers fabricated of glued Strong Skin that made up the support of the afterdeck overhead.  He steepled his fingers and said thoughtfully, “Sometimes people do generous things with no thought of return.  Last Fall, we were trading in these waters when we were hit by a Coriolis storm.  Our damaged mainspar was replaced by folk who said it was but the cost of friendship.

“Consider that spar a down payment.  We will do the salvage work in return for a note to cover the cost of salvage and repair.  In addition, we will have two full ownership shares in your ship.”  

It was P’osettin who with tears in her eyes asked, “After t’is disaster ye wad give us bock our ship?  Wye?”

Barad looked at her with a calculating smile, and laid a hand on the Princamorn’s account books.  “I have a confession to make.  I already did look at your books.  They show quality management.  I expect to make a handsome, if slower, profit.”

Both P’osettin and Rostow nodded.  This they could accept.  P’osettin wrung Barad’s hand as they left the cabin and said in a voice thick with emotion as well as accent, “We must bear t’is news t’ t’e rest o’ t’e crew.  T’e Articles ‘ave t’ be observed but i’ t’ey dinnae take yer offer, t’ey’re nae wort’y t’ be sailors on a ship o’ mine.”

After the visitors had gone, Chena emerged from the bed hangings, tallow-slate in one hand and a stylus in the other.  Timidly, she said, “I got the function thing to work, I think.  It must be wrong, though.  The answer that I get is a nearly circular ellipse, with the primary focus stationary, the minor focus going about it in a circle, causing a moving point on the ellipse to describe a cycloidal path.”

Barad cocked an eye at her and smiled sardonically.  “It sounds basically right.  What’s the difficulty?”

Chena quailed, as if in fear of getting hit.  “It’s huge!  Many times larger than Sea itself!  How could something be bigger than the world?”

Barad actually laughed in delight.  He dragged Chena by the arm to the open porthole and pointed out at the sky.  The largest of the three moons was visible about a hand-span above the horizon.  “There is your answer!  You have just computed the orbit of Wohan, for about a Wohan ahead.  You will become a Calculator yet.  Never doubt it.  

“Your indenture will net me thrice the value of even a boat-shop apprentice.  Your own share of that indenture will be over six times what I get.  Look forward to the money and freedom in just a few Gatherings.  You will have a safe start in a new fleet.  If you do not repeat the mistakes that ruined your life in the Naral fleet you will be secure and respected for the rest of your life.”

Chena looked at Barad in fear, I wish that I could believe that.  I’ve heard that your Cabin-girls disappear and are never seen again.  A death sentence to be chosen.  Well, if you’d not taken me, I’d be dead already.  Cast off.  No ship, unless one were to chose me.  I guess that being taken by the Grandalor is better than drowning.

With the help of the survivors, the Grandalor found the Arrakan fleet Council ship, Wavenruner, easily.  It was one of a few ships that were authorized to act for the fleet’s Council until the next Gathering.  They took the report of the sinking, along with the precise location and the salvage survey of the wreck.  They also issued the necessary salvage claims, and bought much of what had been salvaged already.

Less than a Wohan later a somewhat crippled but now functional Princamorn parted company with the Gandalor.  All of her surviving crew went with her, along with Barad’s indentures.  The only exception was the gravely injured Tanlin, who was still in a coma.

Captain Barad, descended a companion-ladder to a corridor that lead to the Purser’s scriptorium.  A half dozen men and women talented with quill and ink were working industriously by the light of large ports and a few candle lanterns in the brightly lit room.   If the fleet Council knew just how talented these folk have been for the last seven Gatherings, the Grandalor would likely have a new Captain and officers, he thought,  gleeful at getting away with yet another shady enterprise.

He examined the neatly bound piles of trade scrip.  Each one bore the name of a different ship, and had the expertly forged signature of that ship’s Purser.  There were several hundred Strong Skins and perhaps four thousand Glue Blocks worth.  His brow wrinkled in angry concentration and he looked at the works in progress.  “Morgu,” he called softly, voice quietly authoritative.

The Purser got down from his own high stool and work table in the corner of the room, where he could oversee all that was being done.  “Yes, Captain?”

“Where is the Longin scrip?  I do not see any, nor any in progress.  Alor’s signature is no harder to forge than any other.”

“True, Sir.  But this is.”  Morgu pointed to a number neatly written in Alor’s precise hand.

“So? Copy it.  What problem does it present?”

Morgu braced himself to tell Captain Barad the bad news.  It was never safe thing to do.  “Sir, each scrip, even the quarter block ones, has a separate number.  This started last Gathering.  Alor keeps a register with all of the numbers.  When a scrip is done being traded about and is presented to the Longin for redemption, it is stricken out in her register, with the redemption date marked, and it is destroyed.

“The practical result is that our Longin scrip will be easily detected — and traced — to us.

“We are suspected of the counterfeits already put out.”

“How can you know that?  The counterfeits have been discussed in the Captain’s Council but nothing has come of it.  I have seen to that,” said Barad, deeply disturbed.

“Sir, a general meeting of the fleet’s Pursers has been called for next Gathering.  I was not invited, and when I tried to get invited, I was bluntly told that I was unwelcome and would be ejected if I came.

“It took a number of discreet inquiries, some of them through agents, to find out the secret.  The purpose of the meeting is to discuss the counterfeit situation and deal with it at the scrip issuing level, as the Captains’ Council seems unable to do anything.

“If I were you, Sir, I would drop the counterfeiting and wait for at least one or two Gatherings before going back to it.”

Captain Barad scowled, I wish that I could use him for Strong Skin bait. If I do, I will never get a reliable answer from anyone.  They will all be afraid to tell me the truth.  Dependable advice is the most valuable thing I can get.  “I hate to let it go, but though profitable, it is a small trade.  I will bow to your expertise and end it, for now,” he said thoughtfully.

“It was a good idea when you brought it to me seven Gatherings ago, when they were about to vote you off the Darok.  Your transfer to the Grandalor saved them the embarrassment of admitting how badly you had hoodwinked them.  It raised you from a well educated deck-hand to Purser and gave me a good income.

“Do you know why I made you Purser?”

“I have been puzzled by that question.”

Barad smiled, “It is simple.  Faced with ruin by the collapse of a small scheme, you thought big enough to forge ahead and come to me with an ambitious proposal.”  He smiled at his pun and waited for an answering one from Morgu before going on.  “Few people will look to attack when they are being struck by a large opponent.  Your ability at forgery has been useful and it will be again someday in some other way.”

Briskly Barad added, “For now, send someone up to my cabin.  There are four books there, on the table.  Your people should make as many copies as they can.  They are the next edition of the Muline’s Moons and Sun Navigational Ephemerides.  I got them while we were rendezvoused with Muline.  My cabin girl will point them out.”

Morgu shuddered slightly at the thought of the Captain’s cabin girl.  I pity her, truly I do.  Having to take care of his cabin, and other needs.  She won’t last long, they never do.  Aloud, he said, “Will you accompany me to my cabin, Captain?  I’ve something I’d like to discuss privately.”

“Of course, Morgu, let’s go.”

The Purser’s cabin was small and completely orderly, like its occupant. There was a small table, a chair, a shelf for books and a shut-bed. A small port-hole, open but equipped with a tightly fitting shutter, let in light.  Morgu opened the folding door of the shut-bed so that he would have a place to sit, and let the Captain have the chair.

After sitting, Captain Barad demanded, “What did you want to discuss, that needs such privacy?”

Morgu steepled his hands and gathered his thoughts.  “I want to ask something that may be personal.  I don’t want to snoop into your affairs, but the answer may assist me in helping you with your goals. The question is about the Longin.  I know how they cheated you when you tried to take over their crabbing waters, but your dislike for that ship goes further back than that.  If I understand the situation better, perhaps I can help you to devise a fitting revenge.”

It was Barad’s turn to gather thoughts.  “Way back, over twenty Gatherings ago, a few Wohans after the fire cough epidemic, old Captain Morthan, took ill and died suddenly, I took the helm of the Grandalor.  There was not time for a popular election from fleet qualified men, by the Articles because a Coriolis storm was nearly on us.  I and a few supporters took the job because someone had to. People took my commands and we got through the storm in good order. After that, they were used to my rule, and my men made it easier and safer to keep on doing so.  Very few had to be logged as lost in the storm.

“I forged documents of election for the Captain’s Council.  I am not as practiced in that art as you, I admit.  Some of the officer’s signatures were questioned by Captain Mord, (a curse on all Halyns!) and I near lost my command and life right there.  It took some fancy footwork to keep what I had bought and it cost several more lives.

“To this day I don’t understand why he opposed me.  I could easily forgive being outmaneuvered, like with the crabbing waters.  That’s a game with a winner and a loser.”  He threw up his hands and went on, “There was no reason in it!  Neither he nor the Longin could profit by it in any way!”

Morgu listened in rapt attention. Several more lives? There’s more to this story than I’m getting.  Aloud he said, “I see.  You only barely beat them then, and the real grievance is that they near wasted all your work for no real end.  That they have managed to come out even or ahead on every try for revenge since only twists the knife.  

“The best that you have done since amount to small nibbles that they barely feel.”  Morgu paused before going on, “You don’t want to hit them like a hungry Strong Skin.  Big as Strong Skins are, the Longin catches those.  You need to strike at them like a big Wing Ray leaping from the deeps onto a small boat!  You must smash something that they can’t replace!”

Captain Barad looked at the savage expression on his Purser’s face fascinated by what he saw, “What do you hold against the Longin? Such anger is well past the loss of a few counterfeit notes.”  He was well aware of the answer but wanted to hear Morgu’s version from his own lips.  Due to the machinations needed to get him to come to the Grandalor, Barad never had this opportunity before.

“There are two things that I hold against that Dragon-haunted ship!” Morgu paused and took a few deep breaths and regained his composure. “The first is not unlike your own.  I was just making a few of the Darok’s own scrip for my own use, and none really hurt by it.  The Darok found out because Captain Mord Halyn brought it to their attention and then the Longin’s crew helped to trap me.  There was nothing in it for them.  They just prated of honesty.

“The other thing was even worse.  I was near ready to marry a fine young lady from the Muline at the time.  Not only did I not get Suze, she married onto the Longin!  Now do you understand why I want to hurt them?”

Sympathetically, Barad laid a hand on Morgu’s shoulder.  She was going to follow him to the Grandalor but I fixed that!  It has paid off better than I could have guessed.  “I see why you hate them so and now you know why I do, too.  What shall we do about it?  How shall we smash them?  Captain Mord and Alor are both too well guarded and too prominent to reach safely.  I had thought of that.”

“Captain, whose name do you hear everywhere that Longin sailors gather?  They talk about the girl Kurin …”

TO BE CONTINUED

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[mypassionfortrash]

Rumours: Parts 1 - 4

It’s the mid 70′s, and your band are on tour with Queen. Rumours circulate in the music press about your relationship with their drummer, Roger. But what they don’t know is that you hate each other with a passion. Can you patch things up?

Pairing: Roger Taylor x f!Reader Warnings: A lot of smut - so this is strictly 18+. Notes: This was originally posted on my Queen blog (BoRhapRogerina) before I deleted it. If you’re new here, welcome. If you’ve read this before, I’ve reworked this quite substantially. I’m planning on finishing all of my fics for NaNoWriMo this year, so stay tuned for updates on all my WIPs!

[1/4]

“Scary?” You screeched, flinging down a copy of Creem. You whipped around to face your bandmate, Steve. “Do you think I’m scary?”

He contorted his face, continuing to work a layer of shaving foam over his jaws. “You’re… intense.”

Your mouth dropped open, ready to hurl a brutal comeback. 

He was quick to halt you. “You’re not still obsessing over Roger, are you?”

Your cheeks burned at the idea, “I’m not.”

You were. 

In fact, it was all you could think about ever since your manager had secured your band the gig of a lifetime. Hitting the road with none other than Queen. Supposedly, John Deacon was a fan of yours. Although Roger unquestionably wasn’t. 

The press seemed to believe that you and he would make a perfect pair. You being the fierce, take-no-prisoners frontwoman of a rock and roll band. And Roger, a handsome playboy that no woman could resist. In fact, in every interview Queen did, they would pose that to Roger. What did he think of you?

At times his words were enough to reduce most to tears. You stared up at the ceiling, recalling that interview he did with Melody Maker where he called you ‘utterly terrifying,’ and claimed you had ‘less sex appeal than Elton’s backside.’ That was especially harsh. But your bandmates dismissed it as flippant trash talk; something to create a bit of controversy. 

And so, on the first night of the tour, you sat in the dressing room, having never actually met Roger Taylor, wondering what exactly he thought of you. Just like the music press as a whole.

Not that you cared, of course.

Why should you?

You weren’t there to impress him. 

During soundcheck, you absentmindedly trundled through your band’s five-song setlist with as much life as a rainy day. Four songs in, a shaggy mop of blonde hair bobbed through the gaggle at the side of the stage, barging its way to the front to watch. He stood with his arms folded, his hip jutting out. A cigarette daintily rested between his fingers. 

You glanced at him as you sang. Your stomach was in knots, wondering if he was waiting for an inevitable hiccup. That particular song was about your ex; however, it just as comfortably fitted Roger. He had painted a dim picture of himself, even before you were breathing the same air. But now, seeing him in the flesh, you decided that you hated him. From his dazzling blue eyes to the fur coat that swamped his wiry frame. He was sickening. 

Then it came to that one final line. 

Something about being high and laughing about him in a hospital bed... 

You screwed your eyes shut as you snarled, but the image of him was crystal clear in your mind’s eye.

He raised his eyebrows, puffing out his cheeks at your delivery.

Your insides churned, setting down your guitar and moving to join the group at the side of the stage.

Roger’s eyes might have popped out of their sockets with the savagery with which he rolled them, as you approached shook hangs, hugged and introduced yourself to everyone but him. And he was blatantly counting on you striking up a conversation with him. He drew in a breath to drip poison into the air between you. But his plans were thwarted. 

“You were absolutely marvellous!” Freddie blurted, barging past Roger who sulked like an adolescent girl. Freddie flung his arms around you, threatening to squeeze all the air from your lungs. You gave his shoulder a series of tiny taps like a boxer calling it quits. He thrust you outwards, those dark brown eyes studying every detail of you. Then, he made his announcement: “Deacy was right.”

The corners of your mouth pricked up as you exhaled the last of the breath you had been desperately trying to cling on to. “Did you like it?” you asked, shaking your head. 

Freddie moved closer. “I loved it!” He was beaming as his eyes darted between you and Roger. “You two haven’t met yet!”

You and Roger exchanged curt nods before you broke the uneasy silence. “Thanks for the opportunity,” you muttered, folding your arms.

Roger huffed, looking away from you. “It wasn’t up to me.”

“You’re perfect,” Freddie blurted, blasting through your stalemate. He turned to Roger who was still glowering. “Isn’t she - aren’t they - perfect, Roger?”

Roger raised his eyebrows, lolling his head from side to side.

“You tell her she’s perfect. Right now! Tell her, Rog!” Freddie pushed.

Roger’s eyes narrowed. His upper lip curled up into a sneer. “You’re perfect.” Without waiting for a response, he scampered backstage, a trail of smoke chasing close behind. 

Freddie turned his attention to you, looking taken aback. “Alright then.”

“What’s his problem?”

“He’s not used to being in such close proximity to a woman he’s not allowed to shag, my dear. He’ll come round.”

“I don’t know, I reckon I could have some fun with him.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

It turned out Roger wasn’t fun. Especially not when he had a drink in him. 

The gig itself was excellent. Roger confined himself to the background as the other members of Queen congratulated you after your set. He sought to make himself look busy, preening at his hair or fixing his spangly outfit, but every now and again, you would catch him staring at you. You couldn’t for the life of you figure out what was going on inside that pretty head of his. All you knew was that his games frustrated you to no end. 

It came to a head at the afterparty. 

Swaggering into a packed bar, you made your way through silvery swathes of smoke towards the private lounge at the back. Your bandmates had made quick work of getting ready, but you were anxious to impress. It was the day before Valentine’s day, after all. In the back of your mind, you craved as much action as the rest of them. 

A tight black dress and skyscraper heels, a fur coat and skimpy knickers. It had all the right ingredients, and you felt like the fiercest creature in there. Heads turned in droves as you brushed past the sea of strangers, waltzing past a length of velvet rope. 

The lounge was quiet. Your bandmates. Queen. The crew. Management. Label bigwigs. Journalists. All the right people were there - if you wanted to talk business. But not if you actually wanted to do business. 

You expected Roger to be the centre of attention. But that accolade had long gone to Freddie. 

Instead, Roger sat on an empty couch, his gaze centred on the doorway. Still puffing away on a smoke. It was only when your heart began to thud furiously against your ribcage that you realised something. 

Those heavenly blue eyes of his? 

They were on you.

But it was like someone had sparked a flame beneath him. You had never seen someone get to their feet with so much urgency. He shot past you, going towards the main bar, shoulder-checking you on his way out. It left you livid, seeing red. 

You did the absurd. 

You went after him.

You threaded your way through the crowd, hunting in the darkness. Roger wasn’t difficult to find. That shaggy blonde mop. That vivid sateen blazer. You could pick him out anywhere. 

You spotted tufts of blonde above the current, over by the bar.

You couldn’t move fast enough, pursuing answers.

The bartender had just finished shifting a series of shots in front of him when you dragged yourself on to the stool beside him. 

He winced, sensing your presence. Then he downed a shot, swallowing hard. His voice was hoarse through the jagged remnants of the tequila; you could hardly hear him. He didn't even look at you. “What are you doing?”

“I need to know what your problem is.”

Roger shifted around to glare at you. If looks could kill, you’d have been done for. “My problem?” he asked, pointing to his chest.

Another shot.

“My problem,” he slurred, “is that I’m sick of fucking hearing about you.”

“What?” you prodded, shaking your head. 

“Everyone fucking thinks that because you’re a girl that we’re somehow…”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe if you spent less time surrounded by groupies, then maybe Melody Maker and Creem wouldn’t constantly ask you about the only girl who’s ever supported Queen and whether you intended to shag her.”

Roger sprang to his feet, jabbing his finger against your shoulder. He spoke with the ferocity of a small, yappy dog whose cage had been well and truly rattled. “Thanks to you, no one’s going to want to shag me. I doubt I’ll be getting any at all this tour!”

You were indifferent, slipping off your stool to meet his stare. You began calmly. “What do you want me to do? Roger, this is an amazing opportunity.” You couldn’t contain the frustration in your tone. “I’m not going to give that up because you need to shag everything in sight. I want people to take me seriously, more seriously than they seem to take you.”

“But you’re not that good anyway,” he sneered, screwing up his nose. “I mean, you’ve got so much to figure out. It’s laughable!”

You pressed yourself against him, your chest heaving. “I’ve heard you’re fucking lousy anyway. Tiny. Inclined to be a bit… premature.”

He smirked, knowing he had succeeded in getting a rise from you. “What makes you think I’d be interested in you?”

“You should be so lucky. Now, you’re going to do me a big, big favour and stay out of my way. And don’t you dare speak about me to the press again, do you understand?” You pointed towards the lounge at the back, widening your eyes, moving closer to him. He leaned back, trying to escape your tirade. “When we get back in there, don’t you dare look the road I’m on. It’s crawling with journalists. I mean it, Roger.”

Roger scowled for a moment. “Stay out of my way. And don’t ruin this for me.”

You took one of Roger’s shots, looking him right in the eye as you threw it back. “I’ll ruin you if you’re not careful, Princess.” 

You waited long enough to see Roger’s mouth pop open at that threat. And then you made a beeline back to the lounge. 

You were greeted by Freddie, who came over to you like a shot, thrusting a flute of champagne into your hand. 

“Where did you get to? I saw you come in, but you just disappeared! Where did you go?” He quizzed with wide eyes.

“I had a little bit of fun with Roger,” you sighed, your words opening an inexplicable well in your stomach. “I don’t think he likes me much.”

Freddie rested his head on your shoulder to reassure you. “I wouldn’t bother fretting - he doesn’t like anyone at first. Especially not when they answer back. He’s got eyes for you, though.”

“What?” You chuckled.

Freddie didn’t explain. He simply pointed towards the same spot Roger was in when you arrived. He was still fixating on you. You couldn’t be positive whether you had incensed him or put him in his place, but you could see his shoulders rising steadily and his nostrils flaring with every breath.

Your eyes dotted from face to face through every corner of the room. One of the journalists seemed to have noticed the glances exchanged by you and Roger. And it did nothing to alleviate the foul mood Roger had put you in.

“Freddie?”

Freddie reached for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Yes, my dear?”

You turned to face him, feeling a wave of nerves grip you like a vice. “I have to leave.”

The next morning, the afterparty was still fresh in your memory. 

After you left the party, you went back to your hotel and bought a bottle of wine, drinking the whole thing by yourself. Not ideal when your bus call was at four in the morning. But it turned out you were much soberer than your bandmates. They were out like lights. Which allowed you more time to wallow. 

By eleven o’clock, your bus rocked up outside the venue in Manchester. Trudging out of the bus on unsteady legs, you feared your arms might buckle and drop the two suitcases tucked under each. You had no notion of facing the day just yet. You just ached to get to your dressing room and rest until soundcheck. The pit in your stomach deepened when you saw that Queen’s bus had already arrived. Roger would undoubtedly be lurking somewhere. You prayed that you wouldn’t bump into him on your way inside. 

Being the only woman on tour granted you certain luxuries. Out of respect for your privacy, and because no one wanted to be the one accused of leering over you, you always had your own dressing room at every venue. Of course, the halls themselves were small, with even smaller backstage areas, so you regularly found yourself bundled into any place they could spare, with a fold-up chair and a mirror, if you were lucky. Tonight’s venue was kind enough to have you in a cleaning cupboard on the other side of the building from the rest of your band. But that didn’t matter. You needed the time alone. You savoured any of it you could possibly get on a tour like this. 

So off you went, pounding the halls. They were painted a pale green, but it had started to chip away, and the floor was cracked right down to the concrete. The place had seen better days, you thought, looking down at your feet. Only to realise the tracks of rose petals stretching off into the never-ending distance. 

You paused, squinting back the way you came. Sure enough, they were strewn that way too. 

Shrugging it off as a Valentine’s Day gag, you continued to follow the path to your dressing room. Your heels snapped through the desolate corridors - it was far too early for Queen to have loaded in just yet - until you reached your destination at a dead end. 

The venue had thoughtfully scribbled your name on a scrap of card and attached it to the door. But what lay on the floor was of far more interest to you. 

Another note with ‘RMT’ scrawled on it.

Roger. Meddows. Taylor.

Kicking the note aside, you cracked the door open, only for a single, red rose to roll out, stopping short of your foot. You thought nothing of it. Apparently, Roger was in a remorseful mood. You wondered how long that was going to last, not allowing yourself to think of anything more before he got back to being his bitchy little self again and…. 

Roses. Roses everywhere.

Taking in the spectacle in front of you, you could feel the anger simmering away inside you. They were hoarded waist deep. To get inside, you would have to wade through them, clamouring over goodness knows what. But it was your dressing room. God forbid you would have to share with your bandmates. Being on the tour bus with three sweaty men after a show was bad enough, but being locked in a room with them while they prim and preen was another matter entirely. 

So you did it. 

You tossed your suitcases into the void ahead and followed suit.

Instant. Regret. 

With every wary wade, a thousand tiny pinpricks burned against your legs. It was only then that it dawned on you. 

Roger Meddows Taylor wouldn’t bother to have the thorns pruned. 

[2/4]

Hide it. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

That’s what you told yourself the whole day. When you deposited the bulk of the roses back out into the hallway. When you kept discovering petals in every nook and cranny of your clothes. Even when your bandmates asked about the mysterious amount of flowers in and around your dressing room, you remained nonchalant, trying to stifle back a giggle. “A secret admirer, I guess.” You kept it up all day, flitting between annoyance and feeling pleased with the revenge you had plotted for Roger.

During your soundcheck, Roger took up his place at the side of the stage again, simpering away as you shook rose petals out of your pockets. No sooner had you caught him staring, but he turned, exhaling a trail of smoke that lingered long after he had left. You couldn't broach the subject with him yet. Instead, you kept your head down, waiting him out for the perfect moment to strike.

You even waited in the wings while Queen themselves ran through their set, pacing back and forth to catch Roger’s attention. You pitied how much he misread the situation as he smirked over his drum kit at you. You were out to humiliate him.

Locked in a game of cat and mouse, you were gone before he could gloat about it. You knew that would rile him up the most, leaving him exactly where you wanted him.

Later on, before the show, both bands on the tour joined forces to have dinner backstage. Everyone around the table chattered mindlessly about how much they missed their other halves sinking bottle after bottle of wine. But not Roger. He looked utterly livid, sitting at the head of the table, opposite you. Not because he had no one to miss back home. But because you had said nothing about his grand and elaborate prank. It was apparent on his sharp little features just how much rage he was harbouring about the fact that it had backfired. The way his body seemed to vibrate as he sulked, balling up his fists around his cutlery as he ate his dinner.

You beamed across the table at him, raising your glass and giving him a wink. This cracked the wall of silence he had built.

“What about you?” Roger sneered, piping up above the rabble. “Did you get anything nice?”

You quirked an eyebrow, silently challenging his sudden boldness. “Oh, you know, just some flowers.” You shrugged off as if it was nothing. You were just getting started, draining another glass of wine. “They were absolutely gorgeous.”

Roger scrunched up his nose, snorting. “Who would buy you flowers?”

Freddie’s mouth dropped open as he whipped around in his seat to smack Roger on his arm, earning a pained ‘ouch’ from the drummer. “She’s a delight! You take that back right now!”

“Look at her!” Roger squeaked, throwing a hand in your direction. 

Everyone around the table simultaneously shot him a disdainful look. But you couldn’t help choking back a laugh. Roger hadn’t realised that you could unravel his grandstanding in seconds flat. 

“Do you really want to go there, Roger?” you asked widening your eyes.

“And the attitude she’s got on her…” Roger huffed. 

With a deep intake of breath, your hand delved into the pocket of your jeans, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. “It’s funny, Roger, this note was with the flowers in my dressing room. I think,” you began, squinting down at the handwriting, “RMT does like me enough to buy me roses  on Valentine’s Day.” You smoothed the note out on the table and shifted it to the centre, for everyone to get a better look at the incriminating evidence. 

Brian glanced over at the note, chuckling to himself. “It’s his handwriting.”

“There was rather a lot of flowers, actually,” you continued, grinning at Brian. “Enough to fill my dressing room, actually. Whoever this RMT guy is, he must have gone to so much effort to get them all in there before I arrived this morning.”

Freddie’s face wildly lit up. “How many flowers were there?”

“They were piled waist deep. I had to wade through them,” you beamed, bypassing Freddie’s gaze and looking towards Roger instead. 

“That’s absurd,” Brian chimed in. “Who would do that for someone they don’t even like? What do you think… Roger?”

“It screams pettiness,” Stewart, your band’s own drummer, agreed. 

Roger sulked, rolling his eyes. “It was a prank! To inconvenience her!”

“I think it was rather lovely,” Freddie chimed in.

Roger became increasingly flustered at the narrative his friends were giving his actions. 

“What’s wrong, Roger?” you cooed.

Roger’s cheeks were scarlet as he screeched: “I’m just not attracted to you!”

Sitting back in your seat, you gave him a satisfied smirk. There was no point pressing the issue any longer than you needed to. Everyone else around the table did that for you, erupting into hysterics and relishing the opportunity to make him the butt of all their jokes for the evening. 

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

You were exhausted. Even after five songs, your hair was drenched in sweat, your makeup smeared and your muscles burned. A hot shower was just the thing to round off your day.

But the venue had communal showers. 

Usually, if you were on tour with your own band, this would never have bothered you. Your bandmates had seen you naked on multiple occasions and in many a drunken state. But the fear of a complete stranger seeing you in the shower had you making a beeline for them midway through Queen’s set, desperately hoping no one would be in there.

However, robe and accoutrements in hand, you were greeted by various members of Queen’s crew - the ones who weren’t working away on the backline, taking the opportunity to clean up before they had to load out for the night. They didn’t see you. Something that you thanked your lucky stars for because the look on your face as the realisation set in must have been something to behold. You closed the door swiftly, going undetected.

There was nothing to do but wait for them all to file out. Sliding down the wall to take a seat on the floor, you listened intently to Queen’s performance. The sound of the crowd made the building shake as they chanted every word of Killer Queen back to Freddie. You kept time, tapping your foot on the floor, fixating on getting out of your sweaty stage clothes. Every time the door opened, plumes of steam would hit your skin, sending shivers through you. The warmth was so deliciously enticing that it took every bit of restraint you had to stop yourself from diving into the already crowded bathroom. It took half an hour for everyone to leave and Queen were nearing the end of their set. 

Throwing off your clothes and stowing them in a locker, you wandered over the grimy tiled floor towards the row of showers at the back of the room, firing one up. Better than any fluffy blanket on a cold winter night, the water cascaded over you, soothing all the aches and pains of the first few nights of the tour. It surprised you how quickly the twinges in your muscles accumulated on tour. Another layer of luxury in situations like these were the lotions and potions you always brought with you. You could feel yourself becoming more human again as you worked a violet-scented lather over your skin, cleansing your body of the sweat and dirt of the day. Breathing deeply, you let out a satisfied groan and wondered just how long you would be alone. 

The cheers from the crowd had died down. A dull chatter seemed to make its way down the hall outside. It ripped you away from what you were about to do and hurried your movements along as you rinsed the suds from your skin.

Something in the corner of your vision caught your attention. Horror coursed through you as you realised that someone else was showering next to you. When you noticed who it was, you gave an audible, “what the fuck?” 

Roger’s gaze was fixed straight ahead as he lathered his hair into a foamy pile on top of his head. 

“Don’t speak to me,” Roger droned. “Fucking humiliated me in front of everyone at dinner.”

You groaned, slamming your hand against the taps to shut off the water. Roger winced with such ferocity that bubbles dripped in his eyes. “Fuck,” he hissed, wiping his hands over his eyes in an attempt to alleviate the sting.

“Not so smart now, are you?” you taunted.

Roger hadn’t looked at you properly until now. His lips parted, drawing in a sharp breath. 

“Get over yourself,” you scolded.

Roger’s entire body sank in on itself, he looked even smaller under your heated gaze. His voice was a mere squeak. “Sorry.” He averted his eyes, looking at anything but you.

“Tell me, Roger,” you began, cornering him. “When a guy buys a girl that many flowers on Valentine’s Day, why do you think that is? What do you reckon runs through that person’s head?” You reached out to him, pushing back a stray strand of hair.

Roger begrudgingly keened into your touch, closing his eyes. 

“If I was really ruining your chances of getting laid, then why are you so desperately trying to woo me? Roger. Meddows. Taylor.”

“I’m not,” Roger sighed, poking his tongue out slightly to lick his lips. The temptation was too much. He opened his eyes, and made no effort to conceal how much they roamed. They came to rest on your lips. “I’m really not.”

You closed the gap, pressing yourself into him, your chest squeezed against his. He trembled at the contact, swallowing hard. You looked up, raising your eyebrows. “Really? Then why are you in here with me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just needed a show-”

“That cock of yours is awfully fucking hard, all things considered, Princess,” you taunted, drawing your finger along his length. “Are you sure?”

“No one’s going to take you seriously if you do this,” Roger warned. Even that was feeble as his breath caught in his chest the second that your hand wrapped around his shaft.

“We’ll see about that,” you said, relishing the way he was coming undone at the slightest touch. The way your hand ghosted up and down his cock could hardly be considered firm or giving. But that wasn’t the point.

You wanted his back against the wall; all yours, latching on to the promise of something more. His head thrown back, jerking his hips forward, begging you for more. But most of all, you wanted to take that away from him just as quickly.

Roger whined when you moved your hand away from him. Once more, you sandwiched him between yourself and the cold tile wall, planting your hands on either side of his head. Your lips brushed over his neck making him shiver. The power you felt at that moment was utterly intoxicating. “No one’s going to know about this. Because, unlike you, Princess, I don’t leave evidence behind.”

Before Roger had an opportunity to retort, you were already on the other side of the bathroom, slipping your robe over your shoulders. “I’ll see you at the afterparty.”

[3/4]

The skintight material of your new red dress threatened to squeeze the life out of you. Being trapped in a room fit to burst with partygoers didn't help either. Your feet ached, hiked up in leopard print heels, as you snaked your way through the crowd. None of the afterparties had been this busy. And none of them had attracted as many creeps like this one.

Finally, just when you thought you were about to hit the floor, the door to the club opened, spitting you out into the night. 

Being able to guzzle air into your lungs again revived you momentarily. Enough that you could take in your surroundings at least.

The alleyway outside was littered with revellers, and a blanket of cigarette smoke draped itself over the scene. You couldn’t see anyone that you knew. 

Not that it mattered. After a show, you were never really in the mood for talking anyway. 

Especially not after being flirted with by countless strangers.

Sucking on a cigarette, you looked up to the sky with your back pressed to the wall. The vibrations of the music inside the club shuddered against you. It soothed you. Your eyes drooped closed, drinking in the sensation.

Then, something caught your attention. Darting your eyes to the left, just a few paces away, you saw Roger. 

He, too, had a cigarette dangling between his lips. And he looked utterly exhausted as he sank against the wall. It must have been an exhausting business, being Roger. 

After all, he had spent the last few hours flocked by women, all eagerly vying for his attention. And space in his bed for the night. 

But now, he looked spent.

Not that you could pity him. 

Every time you caught sight of him, you had the overwhelming urge to launch him through the nearest window. He kept talking to the press about you, from what you overheard in his interviews with student rags up and down the country. Spilling poison in their ears and on to their pages. And then he had the cheek to avoid you like the plague backstage, instead choosing to eye you up from afar.  

Tonight was the closest the pair of you had been since the shower incident. 

You still had scratches all over your legs from his prank; you would never be able to look at roses again without getting flashbacks to that cramped little cleaning cupboard. Even now, days later, your legs itched.

You weren’t sure whether it was the Dutch courage or the burning desire to be the bigger person, but you shuffled along the wall towards him.

He could hear you coming. But his eyes shot away in any direction they could find. Except yours. 

“You don’t want to talk,” you began, backing down instantly, “fine. I’m only out here for a smoke. I’ll be gone in a minute.”

“Good,” he huffed, scuffing his feet against the pavement.

The pair of you stood, backs against the wall, looking in opposite directions. A steely silence lacing through the moment.

It took everything in your to hold back what was in your head. You weren’t sure what you wanted to blurt out, but it probably would have started with, ‘I just think it’s funny how…’

Or something to that effect.

Suddenly, a familiar voice got yours and Roger’s attention. It came from the door of the club and swiftly closed in.

It was Freddie.

“There you are! I’ve been hunting all over for you.”

“I just needed a break from all that in there,” Roger explained.

Freddie was quick to silence his bandmate, casting his hand in the air and nodding at you. “Not you! Her!" And then an inquisitive look spread across his face. "Why? Have you two made up yet?”

“Us?” You asked, darting a finger between you and Roger. “Oh god no.”

“She’s a bitch, remember?”

“And he can't behave like an adult, remember?”

Freddie raised his eyebrow at the display you and Roger put on. “Alright, well there are a few people I’d like you to meet,” he said, seizing your arm and hauling you back inside. 

You threw a glance over your shoulder, to Roger, who had a wicked grin on his face. He fluttered his fingers in the air, waving you off. 

“You’re going to love them.”

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

Freddie flitted from group to group, introducing you to anyone who would listen. After only fifteen minutes, the balls of your feet burned, so you bid him farewell and wandered over to the bar. Hauling yourself up on a stool, your eyes began to wander over the faces around the bar. It was an oval shape that allowed you to peer over to the other side at the patrons sitting opposite you. 

Studying the band of drunks, you tried to decide if you knew any of them. Or if any of them were attractive enough to take back to your hotel room. 

Too tall. 

Rubbish dress sense. 

A little bit too drunk. 

And then, there was Roger. 

He stared at you. 

The same way he had been the last few days. 

Those sleepy eyes. Lips slightly parted. 

You couldn’t help but gaze back at him.

It only dawned on you when it was too late. 

And he noticed.

The corners of his mouth perked up into a self-satisfied smile as he raised his glass. Toasting to you.

Batting your eyes from left to right, you were determined to focus on anything - anyone - but Roger. But somehow, they always found their way back to him.

He drained his glass and slipped off his seat, making his way around the bar to you.

Your whole body tensed. He was looming far too close to you; so much so that his breath ghosted over your skin.

“I don’t blame you,” he said.

Turning to him, you narrowed your eyes. “I’m sorry?”

“No woman can resist me.”

It flipped like a switch. That was the reminder you needed of how much of a prick Roger was. “Oh, I’m perfectly fine resisting you, Roger.”

“I won’t hold it against you if you can’t,” he pressed, raising his hands. 

“You’re doing a terrible job of avoiding me tonight, Roger. What's changed?”

“I’m not going to lie, you look incredible in that dress,” Roger hummed, leaning on the bar, slithering into your field of vision. “I’m rather tempted.”

“Let’s make one thing clear, Roger,” you began, leaning into him, “I’m not interested.”

“Really?” Roger asked touching his nose against yours. “Then why do you look like you’re about to kiss me?”

He had you in a fix. The only way out was to give in to him. But your surroundings were painfully obvious to you, and if the rest of your night was going to go how you thought it was, then you wanted to make sure you were in private. Away from prying eyes. 

“I could make you melt just like that,” Roger goaded with a click of his fingers.

“You weren’t saying that in the showers the other day. How long did it take you to get yourself off after I left? Seconds, I take it?”

“You bitch.”

Pulling yourself away from him, you could see the cogs in Roger’s brain inventing something more impactful to say to get you to climb down. Or climb into bed with him. You weren’t about to keep him hanging any longer. “Do you really want to see how bitchy I can be?”

Roger stared at your lips, licking his own. “Ok?"

Checking your surroundings one last time, you grabbed Roger’s arm, pulling him through the throng towards the door with more momentum than a gunshot. 

You kept your heads down, bursting out on to the street. 

The hotel was only a block away, so the pair of you power walked, arm in arm with your heads down so that no one would notice either of you. It felt like the longest journey of your life. 

Opening the door to your hotel room and you both stepped inside. You folded your arms, sizing him up. 

He stood in the middle of the room, gormless and wracked with nerves, waiting for you to take the lead. It was as though being alone with you made Roger's bravado melt away into nothing.

“Do you really think I look good in this?” you cooed. 

“You look so beautiful,” Roger admitted. 

He couldn’t even look at you. Rather, his eyes were glued to his pink, sparkly shoes as they drew circles in the carpet with the tip of his toe. 

“Are you sure this isn’t hurting your chances, though?”

Roger’s head shot up. “What?”

“You being here?” you prodded, folding your arms and circling him.

“No one needs to know,” Roger shrugged, trying to play it cool.

The tension in your stomach reached boiling point, hearing that. If Roger really wanted you to be his dirty little secret, you were going to play just as dirty. “Take off all your clothes.”

“What?” Roger asked, taken aback.

“If you ‘what’ me one more time, I’m not going to give you what you want.”

Roger didn’t need to be told twice. He kept his stare low, never once planting his eyes on you. He shrugged his decadent embellished blazer down his shoulders, and his fingers nimbly undid the buttons on his pinstripe shirt. He flicked his shoes off. Then he hesitated on the fly of his jeans. 

“All of it,” you dictated. 

He swallowed hard, pulling off his jeans. 

“Even your underwear.”

Roger looked at you, wordlessly protesting your directions. His arms wrapped around his torso, shielding him from the cold air in the room.

“You were the one who wanted me to show you how much of a bitch I can be. We haven’t even got started, Princess.” You moved closer to him, caressing his chest. “And besides, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Roger signed, realising what he needed to do to get what he wanted and pulled down his briefs. 

You groaned to yourself in satisfaction, seeing what your minimal amount of teasing was doing to him. “I think you were lying about me having less sex appeal than Elton's backside. Was that all a ruse, Princess?” you remarked, stroking his throbbing length. 

Roger didn’t care, trying to focus on not falling apart under your touch. 

You were determined to make that troublesome for him.

“I’m going to show you exactly what I think of you,” you warned, spreading drops of precum over his cock. 

Too deep in his own head, Roger couldn’t hear a word of what you were telling him as he rolled his head back, dragging up images of what he so desperately wanted to do to you. The nerves and fear kept him from going any further. He just stood there, relishing the feeling of your hand as it worked up and down every inch of his shaft. He was enjoying this far too much for your liking.

“I think you like it when I do this to you, Princess,” you suggested. “Do you like it?” It still fell on deaf ears. Annoyed with Roger’s lack of focus, you ran your fingers through his hair. Just long enough for him to nestle against your hand, like a lazy cat, begging to be petted. And then you grasped a handful of those long, blonde locks, tugging sharply. 

A shrill, pained whine escaped Roger as his eyes flew open in fright. “What was that for?!”

“Answer me when I speak to you,” you commanded.

Roger rubbed the source of the pain, blinking. “What was the question again?” 

Giving up, you withdrew your other hand from his cock. A look of frustration bled across Rogers features as he moved to cover himself with his arms. You pointed towards the bed, backing away from him. “Bend over. I’m going to teach you how to listen.”

Roger’s mouth popped open as he slinked across the room to the foot of the bed, bending over at the waist. “Like this?” he asked.

“Exactly like that,” you said. “Now, stay there.” 

A thick, black leather belt lay at the top of your open suitcase. You wore it daily, and over time it had softened, but it was perfect. You picked it up, wrapping it around your hand as you moved behind Roger. 

He clung to the sheets with his eyes trained forward. In his anticipation, his hips swayed from side to side. The sight of it left you unable to resist giving his skin a series of open-handed smacks that made him hide his face in the covers. 

“Is that too much for you, Princess?” you teased. 

Roger was back on the defensive; his form stiffened as he raised his head. “No!”

“Good,” you sang, running your fingertips over the strap. “Because we’re just getting started.”

“What are you going to do to-”

An abrupt, sharp snap cut him off, substituting his question with a yelp. He hopped from foot to foot, trying to process the pain that had been bestowed upon him, but it was no good. No sooner had he caught up, but you had already struck his behind again and dug your fingers into his hair, leaning in to speak directly into his ear. 

“Now, we’re going to have a little bit of fun, Princess. I’m going to show you what happens when boys like you mess with me. You’re going to beg for my forgiveness. And then, when I’m completely convinced you’re sorry, I might do something to take care of that constant hard-on of yours. Do you understand?”

Roger struggled against your hold on his hair to turn his head. He looked at you in wonder, as if this was the first time a woman had dared confront him. It was if all his Christmases had come at once. “I understand.”

You almost felt sorry for him, thinking about what you had in store for him. But deep down you knew he deserved it. And you knew he wanted it. Getting to your feet again, you glanced down at his pale skin, streaked pink from the two blows you had previously dealt him. “If it gets too much for you, what’s your safe word?”

Roger had to think about that, darting his eyes left and right. “Um… Pineapple?”

You smirked, resting the strap against Rogers back and watching him squirm. “Pineapple it is.”

“Wait,” Roger said, just as you were lifting the strip of leather. “Do you want me to count? I-I’m good at that!”

“Nope.” You brought the belt down on to his cheeks sending another smack echoing through the room. “I want you to apologise.”

Roger, was infuriatingly quiet. Even though you weren’t holding back, he never made a peep. You had mentally counted twenty strokes - a number even you couldn’t handle. You had to talk yourself out of respecting him for that. “Are you alright, Princess?” you asked, reaching forward to stroke his mane. 

“I’m getting there,” he sighed, wiggling his bottom enticingly. He sounded delirious. “Am I being good now?”

The way he said that hit you like a bolt out of the blue. It was strangely endearing. “No, Princess, you’ve been bad, remember?” you reminded, snapping the belt against the back of his thighs. “I don’t hear you apologising.”

"Maybe if you hit me harder, I might."

Your grip on his hair tightened, pulling his head back, “What was that, Princess?”

“Maybe you should hit me harder,” he repeated, louder this time.

He had a point, but something didn’t add up. His face was flushed, and his eyes were so glassy that you questioned his inability to acknowledge the punishment you were doling out to him. You reasoned that his pride had everything to do with how quiet he was being. 

So you sent the belt cracking down on his ass again. “I know you can feel that you little shit,” you hissed, wrapping his hair around your fist to force his gaze forward. Your smacks were so unrelenting that Roger quickly began to writhe and squirm below you. “Are you fucking sorry? Hm? I could do this all evening, and you won’t be able to sit right for a week after this. Go on, I want you begging.”

Roger’s resolve started to crack around strike number forty. His entire backside had been struck raw, and you genuinely feared for his ability to sit behind a drum kit for the remainder of the tour. He stuck his arms out in front of himself, hissing at the searing pain. “I’m sorry,” he whined, his voice low and trembling. 

At first, you didn’t hear him, continuing to spank him. But he piped up again.

“I’m sorry!”

His body was heavy, slumping to his knees when he was sure he had caught your attention. 

Giving him a reprieve, you turned him by his shoulders to look up at you. His skin was soaked, and his chest heaved, and you were convinced that real tears were forming in the corners of his eyes.

Passing the belt through your hands, you raised an eyebrow. “Are you really?”

Roger nodded, sighing deeply. His arms were spread out at either side of him as he drifted back. “Yes. I'm so sorry.”

You took a step back, getting a better look at Roger. He looked utterly hopeless but equally as enticing. “Princess,” you said, snapping your fingers. He looked at you from beneath his eyelashes. Beckoning him forward, you gave him your next instruction. “Come here and kneel at my feet.”

It was the lewdest thing you had ever seen. The most handsome man you had ever seen, crawling on all fours across the room, coming to rest at your feet. Like an obedient puppy, eager to please its master, he gazed up at you. The amount of venom you had grown so accustomed to seeing in him whenever he looked at you had dissipated entirely.

“Are you ready to show me how sorry you are?”

With a coy look on his face, Roger responded: “yes, Boss.”

You loved that term. ‘Boss.’ So much that it earned Roger a ruffle of his hair. “Now, you’re not allowed to touch me just yet, Princess,” you warned, backing away to unzip your dress. 

Roger’s eyes were fixed on you as he sat on his knees, waiting patiently for you to shed your clothes. He ached to have you, fumbling his hands in his lap while you shimmied the tight, crimson fabric down your curves. His cock was still begging for release. You could see that much, even with his hands partially covering it. 

“And you’re most certainly not allowed to touch yourself until I tell you,” you scolded, unclasping your bra.

Roger made it clear that he had no plans to, dropping his hands down by his sides. Instead, he opted to dig his teeth down into his lip. He was practically panting as your underwear slipped down to your ankles. 

“Do you like what you see?” you asked.

Roger’s mouth was agape, unable to respond. 

When you sashayed his way, he instinctively moved into your path, filled with the hope of being able to finally touch you. 

But his hopes were dashed when you bypassed him and settled on the edge of the bed. 

Once again, you clicked your fingers, pointing at the floor in front of you. “If only those groupies of your’s could see how pathetic you are right now, Princess,” you began, pushing back rogue strands of his hair. “You’re so obedient for me. You’d do anything for me right now, wouldn’t you?” you asked, trailing your finger over Roger’s jawline.

“Yes.”

“I think you should call me Boss,” you prompted. 

“Yes, Boss.”

You could feel how agitated Roger was becoming. 

He was so close to you, he swore he could smell your arousal. His prize, mere inches away from his face. 

Finally, you pulled him into you by his hair. 

“Show me how sorry you are.”

[4/4]

You and Roger stayed silent, waiting for the lift to the lobby. Your bandmates were already down there, enjoying breakfast and you couldn't wait to join them. Anything was better than the agitated awkwardness between you and Roger. 

You hoped that last night might have cleared the air between you, but it had the opposite effect. You knew that when you woke up in an empty bed.

You both stared ahead, waiting for the doors to ding open. Roger folded his arms, blowing a strand of his hair up into the air. You danced from foot to foot, with your hands thrust into the pockets of your jacket.

It felt like an age before the doors slid apart. Both of you rushed forward, only for your bodies to collide. “Sorry,” Roger grumbled, moving aside. “After you.”

The journey from the fifteenth floor, down to the first, seemed even longer as you stood on opposite sides, the whimsical elevator music occupying the silence. You prayed someone would get in and join you around floor seven when Roger dared to glance at you. But you were granted no such luck. Instead, Roger’s lips were moving before you knew it, a heavy, annunciated, “don’t you dare breathe a word to anyone,” seething from them. 

You gave a flippant nod, smirking. “How’s your arse?”

“I mean it,” Roger added, his eyes manic as the lift reached the bottom of the shaft. “And my arse is fine. The lotion helped. Thank you.”

“Good.”

All of your bandmates had assembled in a faraway corner of the dining room. Even from that far off, they filled the room with excited chatter and hilarity, earning them disapproving looks from the other guests. All despite the hangovers they were undoubtedly nursing. Like every other morning. 

And then they clocked you and Roger.

From one end of the table to the other, silence fell when you sat down. You squeezed in beside Brian and Deacy. “Don’t stop on our account,” you quipped, throwing a napkin over your lap.

Roger picked a space opposite you, between Steve and Freddie, grimacing as he lowered himself on to the seat.

“Roger’s clearly had a rough evening,” Deacy chuckled from behind his hand. 

You cursed underneath your breath when Roger’s features darkened. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“I’m just saying, whoever did you last night must have been pretty rough with you,” Deacy explained. “How big was he?”

Tugging your lower lip between your teeth, you rolled your eyes. The jig was up. And they knew everything.

“Right boys - and girl,” John - Queen’s manager - announced, waltzing over to the table, “the buses are loaded up. Let’s get to Edinburgh.”

Everyone around you got up and filed out of the room. Except for Roger. His eyes were glued to you. You hung back until he got to his feet and you left the dining room together, staying out of earshot of the others. “I mean it,” he muttered, lighting a smoke. “If you breathe a word of this to them-”

“Roger! For the last time, I’m not going to say anything.”

Roger paused in the middle of the lobby, turning to face you. His cheeks were flushed, and his nostrils flared. He wasn’t in a joking mood. “Why do I get the feeling they know?”

“Because you’re a lousy actor,” you jibed, slapping his side.

He seized your wrist, leaning into you, “They can't know about us.”

“So we’re back to this?” you asked, widening your eyes and challenging his stance. “Remember what happened last night because of that mouth of yours.”

Roger huffed, storming off. He knew you had beat him. This time.

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

From the side of the stage, you watched as Roger wandered towards his kit, throwing a glance over his shoulder at you. He hovered over his stool for a second, eyes down, as if he was mentally attempting to navigate the best way to tackle the situation. Until, finally, he bit the bullet and plonked himself down with an audible grunt.

Entertained, you grinned, trying to cover your mouth with the cuff of your jacket.

Like a well-oiled machine, Queen’s soundcheck didn’t take long. Towards the end of their run-through, you stalked through Roger’s band members and stopped in front of him. His face was etched with discomfort with every little move he made. He tried to relieve the pain by sucking on a cigarette, but every twist and turn of his body had his eyes squeezing closed. In the back of your mind, you knew he deserved this after everything he said about you. But you just couldn’t help yourself.

“Need me to rub more of that lotion on that bum of yours, Rogie?” you cooed.

Roger threw away his smoke and glared at you. Then he spat a venomous, “fuck off,” before continuing into Queen’s next track.

Not wanting to rub salt into Roger’s wounds any longer, you got on your way. Back to your dressing room, to tart yourself up for the night ahead. Your thoughts turned to what you would wear tonight; how you might do your hair and your make up. And how you were sick of those platform boots - an integral part of your nightly getup. Your feet ached just thinking about having to wear those for another show. Your poor arches deserved a rest.

So immersed in your own mind, you hadn’t noticed the rapid footsteps echoing through the hallway. Or the fact that the music from the stage had ceased. Not until someone grabbed your arm and spun you around.

Roger.

He looked around before leaning in close. “What the hell were you thinking? Anyone could have heard you out there.”

You giggled, feeling a rush of nerves flood your stomach. “I couldn’t resist, you just looked so adorable up there.”

Roger pushed you against the wall. He wasn’t playing games anymore. “I know why you do this. You’re so fucking insecure you need to control everything.”

You could feel your cheeks flush. Roger was turning the tables on you, and you were so helpless to stop him. You tried to explain. “Roger I-”

“I think you’d look amazing on your knees, by the way,” Roger added, loosening his grip.

How could he get to you? Just like that?

Roger traced his thumb across your lower lip.“A mouthful of cock, and that mascara running down those cheeks,” he continued, pinching your cheek. “You could be gorgeous if you weren’t such a bitch.”

Batting away Roger’s wrist, a pang of hurt seared through you. You had to get away from him.

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

It played on your mind all night. The feeling that you had finally got somewhere with Roger. You might finally be scratching the surface. 

But then he made it personal. 

Maybe he was right, though? Maybe you were insecure? Maybe you always had to be in control?

He was right.

The music in the bar blared so loudly that the bass pounded through your chest. The air hung so thick that it made breathing near impossible. The only thing you could focus on was the tequila and Roger. A glorious sense of masochism kept you firmly planted on your seat, preventing you from leaving. What else could you do? Go back to the hotel and think about Roger?

Downing another shot, you slumped over the bar. You had lost count of how many of those little blighters coursed through your system, but, studying the shot glass between your fingers in the dim purple haze, you concluded that it still wasn’t enough. 

So you bought the whole bottle, carelessly pouring yourself another line of them.

“Rough night?” a voice asked from the stool next to you.

You were ready to blurt out a scathing response. Until you realised it was Roger, looking tired and bedraggled. He looked good, though, as always. Your mouth just hung open, no sound coming out of it.

“I was really harsh earlier-”

Before Roger could finish his apology, you cemented your lips to his own. Your tongue bypassed them as it skirted over his. He tasted like tequila and cigarettes, and you couldn’t get enough of him, pulling him closer, tugging at his hair. He gave a muffled groan, pushing you off him by your shoulders.

“What was that for?” he sighed.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your chest burdened with nerves.

Roger pondered that for a split second, nodding to himself. “Alright.” Then his attention turned back to you, with an expression so laden with lust it almost made your heart stop. “Let’s go back to my room.”

The second the door to Roger’s suite closed, you had him pressed to the wall. Shedding his coat. Then his shirt. Moving closer to the floor until you were on your knees. The excitement had gone straight to his cock, which strained against his jeans just inches from your face. You wasted no time in tugging down his zipper and wrapping your hand around his girth. Impressive, you thought. He was bigger, thicker than you remembered from last night.

Roger watched in quiet awe as your gazed up at him, licking a long strip over the underside of his cock, dancing the tip of your tongue over the swollen head.

“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” you admitted. A surge of shame and need coursed through you, leaning forward to take as much of him as you possibly could, working your way up to a pace that earned you hushed, contented sighs from Roger.

His hand gently tangled through your hair, taking you with him as he supported himself against the wall. “You look so fucking beautiful,” he groaned.

It was exactly what you needed to hear. You sank back on your knees, pumping your hand around Roger’s cock. A broad smile broke over your features, gazing up at him, “do you really think I’m beautiful?”

“So beautiful,” he replied, running his fingers through your hair. “But I love that gorgeous mouth of yours the most. Let me see what you can do with it,” he encouraged, guiding you back to his cock.

You duly complied. Taking so much of him made tears sting at the corner of your eyes, gagging desperately. But something willed you on. The heat between your legs grew. You just wanted to please him, and to have him say sweet things to you.

But it was no good. 

Something about it didn’t sit right with Roger. “Kitten?” he said, trying to back away from you, the wall getting in his way. "Kitten?" 

When it was clear that had fallen on deaf ears, he had to tear you away from him, placing his fingers under your chin to look at him again. “This doesn’t feel right,” he sighed, before wandering away from you.

You turned around, following him with your eyes across the room from your spot on the floor. The tears were flowing from embarrassment more than anything now. “What’s wrong, Roger?”

He sat down at the edge of the bed, patting the space beside him. “You’re not yourself.”

It took every bit of energy you could muster to scramble to your feet and stumble over to him. 

But it was worth it, throwing yourself down beside him and nestling into his chest. “You’ve been a prick to me all day,” you sulked, trying to focus on how good he smelled. How soothing the gentle rise and fall of his body felt around you. How warm he was. Bliss.

Roger placed a firm kiss to the top of your head. “You haven’t even given me a chance to apologise for that.”

That earned him a glare from you.

“What happened to that strong badass babe from last night, hm?” he asked, giving your shoulder a shake. “I quite liked it when you were in charge. I’m not used to it, sure, but I liked it. And I'm sorry I snapped at you. I just don't want everyone knowing my business before I've even figured it all out yet. It's confusing for me.”

“You just don’t have to be a total prick about it. I know we agreed that no one can know, but I don’t know whether I’m coming or going with you.”

“I’d rather you were coming,” Roger chuckled.

“I'm serious,” you huffed, flopping on to your back.

Roger turned on to his tummy and took your hand. His eyes closed as he peppered delicate kisses across your knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

You sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “What you said to me earlier. About me being insecure. You really hit the nail on the head. But sometimes, I don’t feel like… you know… That person you think I am.”

“How about,” Roger began hiking himself up on to his elbows. His eyes narrowed, at a loss for the right thing to tell you.

“How about what?” You asked, curling strands of his hair through your fingers.

Roger sighed, smirking. “I think that’s why you and I found each other.” He gave the mattress a quick swat. “How about that?” 

You covered your eyes, grinning. “What does that even mean, Roger?”

“Well, I clearly need someone to keep me in check. And I know you’ve got it in you.”

“Have you even been listening to me?”

“Yes!”

“Did you hear the part about me not always being like that?”

Roger crawled on top of you. The light from the crystal chandelier formed a halo around him. “But I can make you feel like that person,” he beamed so innocently, it almost made you melt. “I’ll worship you day and night if I have to.” He paused, pursing his lips. “In secret, of course. We've both got appearances to maintain.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not exactly a good old fashioned lover boy.”

He leaned down, kissing the tip of your nose. “But I could be, Kitten.”

That made your heart flutter. "I quite like that."

[venusxxlangdon]

Hotline Bling

summary: Nothing foretold troubles when suddenly Michael’s phone screen lit up with an incoming call. Without taking his eyes off the laptop, he reached for his phone, thinking it was Gallant.

“Hello?” he asked

“Have you been a good boy?”

AU, where Michael is an art student at Hawthorne University with a penchant for rollerball lip gloss & fleece blankets and the reader, is phone sex operator who accidentally calls the wrong number

pairing: sub!Hawthorne Michael x fem!reader

warnings: dirty talk, smut, sub!Michael, mommy kink, humping

words: 3.3k

A/N: there will be part 2!

Michael Langdon had been having a penchant for nice things for as long as he remembered himself. He was soft and delicate by nature, so it was no wonder that he enjoyed fleece blankets and scented candles, wide linen shirts to wear around the house instead of old T-shirts paired with sweatpants everyone liked, fluffy socks that made him feel comfy, warm bubble baths, and cinnamon French toasts topped with cherry jam or powdered sugar.

However, not everyone had the same opinion on his preferences. Constance Langdon, his grandmother (may she rest in peace), who raised him like he was her son, had been trying to do everything in her might to make Michael fit into her idea of what boys should have worn, studied in university, and done in their free time. Although, after he brought home his first high school girlfriend she seemed to stop being so hard on him as if the fact that Michael was into girls was some sort of a relief for her. The truth, as usual, was somewhere in the middle: Michael had no idea who he was into and preferred to go with a flow and take interest in whoever he liked no matter their gender, religion, and social background. He was not only a good-looking guy — the blond mop of short curls surrounded his head like a halo; crystal blue eyes, made him look like an angel; cherry kissed lips sometimes had a touch of a peachy lip gloss rollerball he carried in his designer backpack, resembled the petals of a beautiful rose — but he was also beautiful inside, despite a blinkered mindset of his grandmother.

When he moved to a small apartment that was only 20 minutes away from Hawthorne University where he was majoring in art, he started decorating the place to his liking: curtains made of sheer organza flowed down the windows like sea foam; the transparent fabric allowed the sunlight to spill into the room, bounce off the walls and flood every corner of it with radiant warmth.

The endless list of things he liked to do in his free time mostly consisted of going to the exhibitions and gallery openings, attending independent movie premieres with his artsy friends, grabbing a strong espresso on the way to class every morning, and dancing to his favorite songs while cooking. He lived alone and was comfortable with it because truly deep in his heart he was a loner. Of course, he had friends, take, for example, Gallant. A very extravagant guy he had met at one of the events and immediately clicked with. Michael did not know whether he believed in soulmates, but Gallant was definitely one of those people in his life who understood him and shared the same interests. However, Michael always enjoyed his time alone in the perfect world he built around himself and spent so much effort maintaining and protecting from people who thought that it was their duty to call it too “feminine”.

“Angel! I’m home!” he stepped into the apartment and tried to shut the door with his shoulder because both of his hands were busy holding a new print he’d got from Gallant and a paper bag from Whole Foods.

A white cat appeared around the corner to greet his owner who never managed to come home without a handful of stuff. He cautiously approached the print Michael put against the wall.

“How have you been, little guy?”

Michael found Angel a year ago on the way home when he was returning from a bar he went to with Gallant and his boyfriend. It was during the time when he was recovering from an extremely painful breakup with his last girlfriend. It was a complicated relationship from the very beginning, but he thought that his love would have been enough for both of them.

In the end, it left him drained out, heartbroken, and utterly devastated. So there he was young and depressed, cringing at the bitter aftertaste of alcohol, he drank with his friends, on his way to his small studio where nobody was waiting for him. At first, he didn’t understand where the tiny mewls were coming from, but as he approached one of the waste containers, he realized that among the litter there was a small white (well it was gray at that moment) kitten. Alone and abandoned just like him.

“I missed you, love” he smiled at the cat, picked up his bags and made his way to the kitchen.

It was a regular evening for him with a homemade dinner and some tv show in the background. He was sitting on the couch with the blanket around his shoulders and a Mac on his lap, working on a digital project for the upcoming assignment. Angel was snuggling by his side, snoring peacefully, and the light scent of his favorite 26 Santal Le Labo candle was filling the room. Nothing foretold troubles when suddenly his phone screen lit up with an incoming call. Without taking his eyes off the laptop, Michael reached for his phone, thinking it was Gallant.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Have you been a good boy?” the question asked in smooth silky voice on the other end made Michael jump on his seat. He immediately looked at the screen but did not recognize the number, so he hurried to bring the phone back to his ear and demand the explanation.

“Ex-excuse me?” he stuttered.

“I’m asking you if you’ve been a good boy for mommy today,” he felt the blush bloom across his cheeks not only from the lascivious tone of your voice but the words you were saying. What on God’s green earth was that?

It took him a few seconds to first, close his mouth because his jaw had dropped indeed, and second, formulate a coherent sentence.

“I’m sorry, I think you called the wrong number” he bit his lip and looked at the display once again as if the range of figures would have turned into something different.

“Is this strawberryboy69?”

Michael giggled at the nickname and put his laptop aside, straightening his legs out.

“No, my name is Michael, and who are you?”

You started scrolling through the data to check if you had called the right number feeling the embarrassment wash over you. Nervously you scanned the table of clients’ names, and your brows frowned when you found out that you had done everything correctly. Strawberryboy69 was supposed to be the same caller that was being on the line, and his kinks should have been “age play, mommy kink, slight humiliation, choking, and spanking”. There could not have been any mistake unless the client had told the wrong number himself.

“I’m sorry, sir. There’s gotta be a mistake,” you murmured still confused. “Please, accept my apologies, I-...”

And before you even finished the sentence Michael asked:

“Wait, was it supposed to be a sex call? Like for real?”

He didn’t know why he even asked that question, and why his cheeks were still beet red. Of course, the girl on the line was a phone sex operator. Who else would’ve started a conversation asking if he had been a good boy? He unconsciously ran his fingers through his hair and caught himself thinking that the idea of having actual phone sex really excited him. He’d never done anything like that, and it felt forbidden. Even mysterious, since he didn’t even know your name. He looked at Angel nervously as if the cat was judging him.

“Yes, and it seems like the client gave me the wrong number. I won’t be taking your time unless you’d like to try...” you lowered your voice to emphasize the last part of the sentence. Having worked for over a year in this company you had learned that if a caller started asking questions it mean that you got his attention. Even though this guy wasn’t the original strawberryboy69, you could try your luck and make him your new client.

Michael’s breath hitched.

“Um, I am really not sure” he mumbled, hugging the pillow and pressing it hard against his chest trying to calm down. “I’ve never tried anything like this....how much do you charge per minute?” he felt the thrill of the rush tightening in his stomach.

You smiled to yourself. You got him.

“It’s a dollar per minute, and after the 10th minute, the rate is 0.50$. Don’t worry about being inexperienced,” the tone of your voice switched from cool and professional to lustful and teasing in a matter of seconds, and that was what got Michael aroused. “I got you.”

Michael let out a frustrated sigh and flipped on his stomach, resting his chin on the pillow.

“Okay,” he cleared his throat, “okay, I think I want to try this, but what do I start with?”

You leaned back on your chair and put your phone on the speaker ready for the show.

“I want you to tell me about yourself first. What do you like in bed? What are your secret fantasies?” you turned on the timer.

There was some mumbling on the other end, and you heard something like “God, I can’t believe I’m doing it”.

After a long pause Michael spoke:

“It’s nothing extreme”, he said, “I think I am boring, like...okay, so...I don’t really.. Oh God.. Sorry, I can’t do this,” he felt so embarrassed; his cheeks were burning bright red.

It was a normal reaction for the person who had never practiced phone sex, and you understood him. So you took the initiative:

“Michael,” you remembered his name, “do you like being in control and dominating your partner?” you purred.

Michael shook his head as if you could see him.

“No, actually, it’s the opposite. I like when my partner takes care of me. I like it nice and soft,” he felt his cock harden in his pants and instinctively snaked his hand down his crotch to slightly squeeze it.

You briefly made a note “soft, probably sub” on a sticker, brought a pencil to your mouth, and pensively started sucking on the tip. It seemed like you got a new strawberry boy.

“Hmmm, sounds good” he was making a progress indeed, so you made sure to praise him for that, “I would love to take care of you, darling. Tell me what you look like, baby?”

Michael felt hot. Suddenly the temperature in the room increased drastically, and he slowly started unbuttoning his blue linen shirt. He traced the tips of his fingers starting from the prominent collarbones and moving inwards. Gently applying pressure, he whimpered at the sensation. Using a circular motion, he splayed his hand out gently across his chest and brought his fingers together at the pink nipple.

“I’m tall, and that’s why I’m always slouching. My grandma used to be so mad at me for not being able to sit straight, and-...” he paused suddenly realizing what he was saying. “God, I’m sorry, that was absolutely unsexy. I don’t know why I even said that...”

You couldn’t help yourself and giggled in response.

“It’s okay, darling” you hurried to reassure him, “feel free to share whatever you like. I’m listening.”

Michael buried his face in the pillow.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered, “I’m blond, curly-haired, and I have blue eyes, what else...”

You didn’t doubt that he was actually describing himself even though he could have pretended to be whoever he wanted. Most of your clients usually told you that they looked like models or actors, everyone was “tall, skinny, with big 11-inch dick (yes, sure), and pornographic boobs.” You couldn’t blame them for that because it was their fantasy and they had every right to dream about it.

“Baby, you are so pretty,” you told him, “let me lace my fingers through your curls and slightly tug on them so I could kiss that pretty neck of yours.”

Michael involuntary bucked his hips forward, grinding his clothed cock against the sofa.

“I-I-I love neck kisses,” he whispered feeling hot flush wash over him. “And love bites.”

You hummed approvingly. Slowly, step by step, you were going to bring him out from his comfort zone.

“That’s wonderful, kitten” you said twisting a strand of your hair around your finger, “imagine my full lips on your neck. Kissing and sucking on the tender skin. I’d slowly run the tip of my tongue across your throat and bite on your collarbones, mark you as mine. Are you mine, darling?”

You heard a quiet whimper on the other side. Michael’s hand passed the hem of his pants and sneaked inside to wrap around his half-hard cock. His mouth dropped open at the feeling of the velvet skin around the glistening head under his touch.

“Yes, I’d like to be yours.”

“That’s my good boy,” you cooed, “now I want to you touch yourself, baby,” it was like you were reading his mind, and Michael squeezed at the base of his shaft imagining that you were actually watching him.

“Already”, he said brokenly, moving his hand up and down his length smearing the precum.

“You are doing so well, love.” Having worked as a phone sex operator for quite a while, you stopped getting off with your clients, but this time it was different. Maybe it was Michael’s inexperience that got you, or his low, silky voice that sounded hot even when he was apologizing for the unnecessary things, or his appearance that he described. You imagined how nice it would be to have a blond, curly-haired boy on your lap, all flushed with embarrassment and arousal. You started circling your clit with the tips of your fingers through the denim fabric.

“Imagine sitting on my lap, baby,” you couldn’t hold yourself back and miss out on the opportunity to act out that fantasy of yours. “All desperate for me. Rutting your hips back and forth, as my hands cup your ass and squeeze it. Hard.”

Michael’s eyes fluttered open; he lifted his head from the pillow and threw it back at the thought of straddling your thighs, moaning loudly.

“Ugh, please” he whined, jerking himself off. The rough material of the sofa didn’t provide the friction he wanted, and he howled in frustration. “It’s not enough, it’s not enough, please..” he muttered.

You closed your eyes.

“Baby, I want you to take a blanket and put it between your thighs for me. Tell me when you are ready.”

Michael’s trembling hands reached out for his favorite fleece blanket, crumpled it hurriedly and placed it between his thighs. He hooked the waistband of his pants and yanked them down his long legs along with his boxers. A broken moan slipped of his tongue when the tip of his cock brushed against the fuzzy fabric.

“Ready, sweetheart?” you wondered in anticipation. The sweet little mewls escaping the boy’s mouth were driving you crazy. Your pussy was throbbing at the thought of ruining him, messing up his curls, and making those blue eyes water with the unbearable neediness.

“Y-yes”, Michael answered waiting for the next order.

“Now I want you to slowly start humping it”, you said, voice dripping with seduction, “while thinking of my hands sliding down your body, caressing every inch of the exposed skin. C’mon, move your hips in circles.”

His skin felt like it was on fire. His abdomen tensed as he started drawing figure eight with his hips, and he had to bite at the corner of the pillow to muffle his moans.

“Let me hear you,” you whispered while rubbing your clit, “God, I wish I could see you. Tell me how does humping feel, hmm?”

Michael moaned in response. His long fingers formed a fist around the tip of his cock and started sliding up and down the length, matching the thrusts of his hips.

“Feels so good”, he murmured. He licked his dry lips and sighed heavily before asking, “could you, please...argh...” Michael hissed when he accidentally slid his thumb along the slit, “Please...”

“What do you want, Michael?” you urged him to speak up.

“When you asked if I’d been a good boy”, he couldn’t believe he was actually about to ask for that, “you called yourself mommy, and I really liked it,” he rolled his head to the side feeling so damn embarrassed and pathetic.

“Oh, baby,” the boy was insufferable. You spread your pussy and inserted two fingers simultaneously, pumping them in and out, “imagine that it’s mommy’s cunt is clenching around your cock.”

Michael was on all fourth, jerking himself off violently. When a sinful “mommy” rolled off your lips, he bit on his knuckles trying to suppress a desperate squeak.

“I told you not to hold your moans in,” his heart skipped a beat when he heard the stern tone of your voice. “If you want to be quite so desperately, open your mouth and start sucking on your fingers.”

And he obeyed like a good boy. Michael brought his free hand to his lips and stuck his tongue out to lick at the tips of his fingers.

“That’s a good boy”, you moaned at the sloppy sound of his lips sucking on his digits. “Keep going.”

You hoped that he was getting close because your own orgasm started building up inside you with every push of your fingers.

“Mommy, I’m close,” you smiled at Michael’s whimpers. You were definitely in sync.

“I know, baby”, you squeezed your thighs flexing your pelvic floor muscles. “Mommy’s close, too.”

“Please, may I come?” he pleaded, and who were you to refuse him?

“Cum for me, kitten,” you moaned feeling your orgasm unfold, and flooding every cell of your body. “My pretty boy, you’ve been so, so good.”

With a broken cry, Michael let go, and came in his fist, staining his blanket with white stripes despite his attempts not to make it messy. You wished you could have seen his face. Fuck, for the first time you actually wondered what your client looked like.

Michael rolled over on his back. Coming down from his high, he felt ethereal. Starting at the ceiling, he couldn’t believe that a stranger had made him come so hard. He looked at his sticky hand and closed his eyes. Holly shit.

“Thank you,” he whispered and heard your soft chuckle.

“The pleasure was all mine,” you said with a smile and quietly whimpered at the feeling of dump panties between your legs.

You should have already thanked Michael for the call, charged for his time, and hung up, but instead, you were still on the phone with him.

“Hey, listen,” Michael cleared his throat, “is there any way I can contact you later?”

A wide grin spread across your lips.

“Yes, you can use this number. I work from 8 to 11pm.”

You were not going to make it easy for him.

Taglist: @langdons-rep @babypinkstyles94 @sammythankyou @kaigitana @ms-mead @sebastianshoe @langdonsdemon @iloveziggystardust @chaoticevillangdon @sojournmichael @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @theghostoflangdon @divinelangdon @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @ticklish-leafy-plant @bbyduncan

People who might like it: @ccodyfern @1-800-bitchcraft @ritualmichael @wroteclassicaly

[queensdivas]

A Damned Soul Chapter 3 (A Gwil Vamp Fic)

I know these updates are coming in left and right. If it’s one thing I love doing is that postponing all my work because I wanna write. If you’re reading this for the first time I hope you all enjoy! If you would like to be added to the taglist let me know! Request are open if you guys wanna request something! Hope you all enjoy and hope to see you in the next chapter!

next chapter

Previous Chap

Taglist: @mexifangorl @i-live-for-queen @leah-halliwell92 @its-funny-til-its-not @bonafiderocketqueen @b-i-g-i-r-l-b-i @teathymewithben @mayofbrian @brianmydear @sprite-jh

Flipping the sign then unlocking the front door to the shop to see a few teenage girls were waiting outside. Stepping away from the door to let them into the shop. Looking around, giggling a little then head over to the home made candles. 

“Is there a specific candle you would like?” Asking them as they began sniffing through almost all of them. Breathing in the ones that cast out...and the ones that bring in bad spirits. Yes this is what happens when you don’t read the signs that clearly say don’t smell the candles…

“So which one will make my ex boyfriend suffer for cheating on me?” One of them asked as I pointed to the light pink one. 

“Light about four of those, then if you happen to have some sort of clothing belonging to him. You will burn each piece of clothing with the candle. For the incantation. Tsk tsk..” Walking over to the middle shelf to climb up the ladder. F...F...F… Falkers! Sliding down as I walked them over to the table for them to crowd around me. Skimming through the chapters of the book trying to remember where exactly it was in the book. Bingo!! 

Flipping through then seeing the spell written in Latin. The girls were upset for a moment till I started translating from Latin to English for them. Then the steps that go along with the entire spell. 

“Now follow these steps in this exact order so it’ll work. When it comes to the incarnation you have to say it slowly and clearly. Also make sure that it’s only you in the room and possibly the entire house since this is a dark spell. When it comes to dark spells there’s a possibility for a negative feedback to you and in the house. Figured I’d let you know before we finalize this.” 

“What sort of negative feedback? I’m still doing this no matter what.” Walking over to the tablet to see her digging into her purse for money. 

“Possibly a bad spirit that you conjured to go after him could appear for a few minutes, a nasty headache, and even some sort of weird rash on your neck. Nothing too extreme.” She slapped her money on the table as the rest of the girls were in shock that she was going through it. Taking the candles and the incantation to leave the store. 

If it’s one thing Madame Rouge taught us is that everyone has the right to try to wield magic and practice spells. If they want to then let them try. But guide them so they don’t screw up the spell to cause some kind of trouble. So if she accidentally summons a demon because she wanted to cause trouble on her ex. All on her. 

The door opened again as our main delivery man Charlies came into the store with his metal clipboard in hand. Charlie has been our main delivery man for almost everything under the sun. And we got in our supplies of something new I’ve been wanting to try for a while! 

“Morning Charlie!” He took off his baseball cap as I began signing all the paperwork he had for me. Our hands just barely grazing against each other as some sort of film real appeared in my vision. 

The drums were roaring deep as a tigers growl as the dancers flew around the large bonfire. Their chants louder than the drums playing themselves. The shadows of the dancers were telling some sort of story that I must see..

“Morning Nieve! How’s the new store coming along?” Blinking a few times as Charlie was beginning to talk to Nieve who was bringing down some blueberry buns. I finished singing the paperwork then handing the clipboard to Nieve so she could sign as well. That was kind of strange. 

Usually Nieve handles the inventory of the store except this time I...I wanted to try something new. I’ve been working on some remedies from ancient remedies used by the Aztecs. According to certain texts that I’ve acquired by some freak miracle..they would use cocoa beans and frangipani to create some sort of ecstasy smoke to bring out the romance. Not exactly what I would recommend but since these readings and evidence say it works..it’s supposed to work. 

“How many cocoa beans did you buy Robin?” Four crates came rolling into the store as Nieve was reading through the list of what we all bought. My eyes following the box then beginning to count on my fingers. 

“Just enough to see if this little trick will work.” I shouldn’t be proud but I am because it’s my money as well. 

“Five wooden crates full of cocoa beans!? Not to mention four crates full of frangipani...two full of Cinchona pubescens, and three of them being dumb cane.” Might have gotten wine drunk a few weeks ago when we were planning to move up here.

“Robin! Did you get wine drunk again!?” Charlie put the crates down in front of the counter then went back out to his truck to grab the rest of the crates. 

“We need this stuff anyhow Nieve..” Now it’s like I’m being scolded..

“Since when do we need three crates of dumb cane anyhow!? Shit this is why no wine in the house! Just like you don’t let me drink vodka and lemonade because I accidentally made the village priest in the previous..previous town do a line dance. Now let me sort this out while you go down to the pier to fetch us some dinner. I’m really craving some sort of fish dinner.” Reaching my hand out for my purse to come from behind the counter then my green army jacket flew from the coat rack onto my shoulders. 

“Any particular side dish you want?” Asking her as I put my arms through the sleeves of the jacket as she opened the first crate full of cocoa beans. 

“Potatoes?” Nodding as I walked out of the shop then down the street towards the docks if I remember correctly. 

To think Nieve have come this far in our lives still blows my mind. Figured we’d eventually find a place to finally settle down like how I want to eventually. But knowing Nieve who takes Madame Rouges post living instructions to the last period. Not saying it’s wrong or anything..but I would kind of like to stay in one place for more than two or three years..heck staying in Highbridge was almost less than two years. It might just be me being absolutely selfish..but just..not sure at the moment. Should be focusing on literally everything else at the moment instead of how I feel about this.

Making it to the docks to see the vast amount of fisherman coming into the docks with their catches of the day. Looks good from a distance I think. Not much of a fish person and never understand how people say “it taste like chicken.” Since when does fish taste like ch THERE'S SOMETHING SNIFFING MY BUTT! Looking down to see a mop sniffing my butt? It’s a dog… kneeling down to see that she was covered head to toe with beautiful white dreads with mud all over herself. Looking around her neck for some sort of collar. 

“Well hello..exactly what kind of dog are you?” She sat down as I began digging my fingers through her hair then beginning to scratch behind her ears. So far no one has come running after to fetch her.

“Do you have a name?” No response. Hmmmm. Gitta is a pretty name for her. 

“I dub the Gitta. Just have to figure out what kind of dog you are. Come then Gitta.” Barking as I got back up for us to start walking towards the docks. She walked a little ahead of me as I began walking past some of the stalls. 

A vast amount of different fish were all over and it took me a little by surprise. I had no idea the North Sea was just filled with these fish. Gitta stopped in front of the stall that had large Atlantic Cod’s hanging and sitting in ice. Cod should just do the trick for tonight! 

“Are ya new to Balmedie?” The fisherman asked as I was beginning to dig through my purse for my money. 

“Yes. Just moved here from Highbridge.” C’mon! Don’t tell me I left my money at home! Damn damn damn! Plopping my bag down to the table as I continued to dig through my bag.  

“You own the new shop don’t ya? The one that used to be the old library?” Nodding as I found the pounds at the bottom of my purse. Quickly counting through how much I have. The exact amount hopefully!

“How much for those two?” Pointing at the large but not too large cods. 

“Eight pounds each. But for a pretty lass that you are, I’ll charge ya only five per one.” Wow..weird..but nice I guess. Pulling out my pounds as I handed it to them with his eyes diverting down to Gitta. Smiling at her as she was beginning to wag her tail at him.  

“She finally found herself an owner.” Chuckling as he grabbed the fish I picked out to put them in a box that had some ice in it to keep them cool. My nails began scratching the top of Gitta’s head. Her tail smacking against the ground as she entered complete ecstasy. 

“So she doesn't belong to anyone? I was so worried that if I took her home with me today, some angry dog owner was going to come after me.” Handing me the box as I held out my hand for him to give me my change. 

“Nope. Has been wandering here since she was a pup with her old owner. A good guy who decided to go fishing when a storm was about to abrupt. Never seen or returned here again. She comes around all the time during this hour of the day just waiting for him to role in. Many have tried to take her home but she wouldn’t walk away with anyone.” Aww..so sad. Poor baby! He handed her a piece of his jerky as she chomped it down quickly. 

“Well..hopefully she’ll like my home. If not then she’ll be back here again. Thank you for the fish.” 

“Will I be seeing you around more?” My throat went dry as he had a large smile on his face. 

“I’ll be back for more fish definitely Mr…” 

“Call me Lewis. I’m here every day other than Tuesdays.” Tuesdays? He’s kind of cute I guess. Not your typical fisherman since he didn’t appear all scruffy, angry, or even covered head to toe in blood. Or it was the fact he wanted to look decent when selling fish. 

“Robin. I’ll definitely need to stop by then on Tuesdays.” Shaking his hand when in an instant a film reel rapidly played again like before with Charles..

Gowns flowing around the dance floor as two palms were lightly touching each other. Their gazes never meeting as her eyes began focusing on a man in the crowd..

“You alright there?” Stinging as the box slipped from my hands., black spots began appearing in my eyes as I nodded to his question. Yup. That was just..spooky. Picking up the box from the ground as Gitta and I began walking to the other stalls. We need potatoes, carrots, and maybe some sort of dessert? I don’t feel like cooking all that so fish, potatoes, and carrots it is! 

Rounding the corner of the church to see the shop only two more blocks away. A priest came out of the church with a group of people walking down the steps. Gitta moved closer to me as the crowd created a pathway for me to walk through. A brush of someone’s skin hit my as the reel began playing again.. 

“Burn her! Burn her!” They screamed as the flames began to engulf my feet. 

Black dots began appearing in my eyesight with my brain feeling like it was going to pop out of my noggin! Ow ow ow ow! Stopping in my tracks so I wouldn’t possibly pass out or drop dinner. It has to be just from not drinking enough water or something. Dehydration is never fun! 

Making it back to the shop to see Nieve working on the window display. Waving to her as she got out of the display to then opened the front door for me. Letting me walk in as Gitta stayed outside in the doorway. 

“A dog? Since when are you into dogs?” Snapping my fingers for her to not come in the shop. 

“Since she came up to me. C’mon girl.” Snapping one last time but she wouldn’t budge one budge. Nieve then clapped her hands for her to then run in and crawl right next to the empty fireplace. God this day keeps getting more and more strange..

“Hey Nieve..mind if I touch you?” That sentence made me cringe so badly. 

“Let me take a step. Okat so whenever I’ve come into contact with someone whether it be a brush of a hand or even giving someone a handshake. It’s like a quick snippet of either a past memory..recent activity..can’t make heads or tails of it.” She grabbed the box of fish and potatoes for her to stop dead in her tracks. 

“Speaking of seeing things. There’s a customer in the room wanting some sort of reading and figured I’d make dinner if you’d do his reading. He said he heard of you when we were in Highbridge but didn’t get the chance to come and do a reading.” Highbridge? A stranger drove like ten hours away all the way up here for some reading? 

Walking into the room where he sat in his chair...taken aback by this man who was graced with such handsomeness? Yes. Handsomeness. Just don’t blush or be stupid with his reading. Wait..wait what kind of reading did he want? 

“Good evening sir..ummm. May I ask what kind of reading you were wanting today?” His eyes were blue and gray yet sparkling as if the sun was rising onto the North Sea. 

“No real preference.” No real preference..how lovely..how so lovely. 

“Figured I’d try to something a little different and do some Capnomancy ..sound okay?” He nodded with his thumbs moving in small circles. 

“So I heard that you came all the way from Highbridge to see little old me?” I began wrapping the cedar twigs together. 

“Umm yes.” 

“You’re totally blowing it.” Someone spoke out then a slap came out of nowhere. But he was acting calm when I turned. What the bloody hell is going? 

[iamnotbrianmay]

The A Experience

Chapter 21

Summary: Five stages of Brian and Roger's relationship.

Notes: This is the second to last chapter of this story and I think I'm going to cry. Gosh, it's been such a long journey and I can barely believe that we are here 50k words later.

Thank you so much for reading, commenting, and giving us kudos. We both appreciate it so much.

I love every single one of you without a shadow of a doubt, and every comment makes me smile like an idiot. So, thank you all! And I hope you enjoy.

The taglist goes as follows: @seven-seas-of-why, @twotitsjohndeacon, @dancindeaky, @gee-uloser, @mozzarellamazzello, @mozzie-s, @deracine-dogma-deux, @shutupanddontjudge, @warping-reality, @demianhill , @zodiacal-dust-and-curls, @hersked

Now, on to the chapter! 

i. romance

The thing about never having had a boyfriend before, Brian realises as he fiddles with the flower arrangement in the middle of the table for the fifth time in the last hour, is that he doesn’t know what he is doing ninety per cent of the time. There seem to be thousands of unspoken rules about dating; thousands of expectations, of little things he should be doing, and Brian has no idea what these are. It seems that every time he does something right, five other things go wrong.

That’s precisely why he has set up this date tonight.

Earlier that week he had inadvertently pissed Roger off and was currently in the process of trying to make up for it. Novice that he was, he had made the error of bringing up a girl who was just a friend when he and Roger were on a date. In his defence, he thought that the story he told of Chrissie Mullen was just a fun anecdote, self-deprecating even! He laughed as he spoke about all the things he went through to impress her and how in the end, she wound up only wanting John’s number. Roger had given him the cold shoulder that evening and, confused, he had gone to talk to Freddie about it. The older man had just given him an exasperated look and swatted him on the back of the head with a rolled-up magazine.

It turns out he had broken a cardinal rule: never talk about exes or previous crushes in front of your current partner. Okay, so maybe he should have seen that one coming.

He heard the front door open, and the soft footsteps that he recognised as Roger’s. His boyfriend then rounded the corner and smiled when he saw Brian sitting at the table, laid out all fancy, flowers and candlelight included.

“Wow, I was wrong; it seems romance isn’t dead.” He said wryly, but his voice was full of affection.

Brian beamed, standing up from his chair and walking over to kiss Roger. He wrapped one arm around the shorter man’s waist and pulled him close, pressing their lips together and making the blonde laugh. One thing that had not been hard about their relationship, Brian had discovered, was kissing. Ever since they had shared their first kiss a few months ago, Brian had made it his goal to make up for the months of lost time; Roger had no complaints.

Once he pulled away, the blonde pressed their foreheads together and smiled, “Have I ever told you that you are an amazing kisser?”

Brian scrunched up his nose, “Only every time we kiss.”

Roger threw his head back, laughing at Brian’s comment, then kissing the tip of the older man’s nose before he unwrapped himself from Brian’s embrace and walked towards the table, “What are we having for dinner then?”

“It’s a secret,” Brian said as he walked into the kitchen, then came out holding a tie in his hands, “I want you to taste it without knowing what you’re eating.”

Roger raised his eyebrows, “Kinky. I like it.”

The older man just rolled his eyes and walked towards Roger, gently placing the tie over his eyes and fastening it behind his head, “Tell me if it’s uncomfortable.”

“Will do,” Roger said, “Also, my safe word, in this case, is ‘fork’ . Or would you prefer if we used the traffic light system?” He teased, waggling his eyebrows under Brian’s fingers.

Brian rolled his eyes, “You are insufferable.”

Roger let out a guffaw as Brian walked into the kitchen once again, getting both of their bowls of Minestrone, and setting one in front of Roger before sitting down.

It’s only now he realises the flaw in his plan when he notices that (a) Roger can’t see the plate or cutlery and (b) since he can’t see them, he wouldn’t be able to get the soup into his mouth without spilling it everywhere. It’s then that the obvious answer comes to mind which would save him the embarrassment of making Roger realise that he had failed in his plan of surprising him with the food.

“Alright, open up.”

“Before I do,” Roger said, holding his hands up, “have you considered what this would look like if Freddie and John were to get home right now?”

Brian could only imagine. “It would look like ten years of guaranteed bullying and teasing,” Brian answered, as he scooped up some of the soup on Roger’s spoon, “Now open up, I really do want you to taste this.”

Roger chuckled, a light blush spreading across his cheeks, then dutifully opened his mouth.

ii. accommodation

Roger let himself fall back on the mattress and groaned as the strain of standing up for the better part of the day was finally taken off his back. Recording the vocals for ‘March of the Black Queen ’ had taken a toll on all of them, but especially on Roger who had to spend almost all day screaming his lungs out at Freddie’s command.

His throat felt utterly raw, almost like he had swallowed sandpaper, his feet hurt from standing up for so long, and there was an aching pressure at the base of his spine that was driving him crazy.

Seconds later, Brian walked into the room, face planting directly onto the bed beside Roger, and groaning into the quilt. The drummer turned his head to look at his boyfriend, his unruly mop of hair and lovely, lovely, eyes. Brian had turned his head as well and was looking back at Roger. He smiled, little fangs and all, when the younger man turned his head, “Hi.”

Roger gave a small smile, “Hi.”

“You looked beautiful today,” Brian commented as he reached over to brush a lock of hair out of Roger’s face.

“Even when my voice when so high I was about to bust a nut?” He raised his eyes sceptically.

Brian snorts, “Okay, alright, you looked pretty almost all day.”

At that, Roger pretended to be offended, “Asshole. You were supposed to say I looked pretty regardless.”

Brian is now laughing, “Well, I’m not a good liar.”

They both laugh, then keep talking about nothing until their chat turns into a fully-fledged make out session. Roger had at some point climbed on top of Brian, grinding against him and making pretty moans when Brian kissed him just right — running his hands through the tangled mess of Brian's hair, tugging lightly whenever he wanted to take control of the kiss.

It had escalated gradually, and after a while, Brian couldn’t help but notice the hardness in Roger's jeans pressed up against him and the way he wantonly moaned every time the guitarist moved his hands lower. It was equally impossible to ignore the fact that he was rapidly approaching a similar state. He pressed one firm kiss to Roger's mouth and then leaned back on the pillows, trying to think of how to phrase this while catching his breath.

"Can I—" a soft blush crept upon his cheeks, "Rog, can I try something?"

The blonde nodded without hesitation, trusting Brian completely as the guitarist undid the button of Roger’s pants and slowly pulled down the zipper. He watched Brian with interest as he worked to pull down his pants until Roger placed a hand on Brian’s arm, “Are you sure about this?”

“I don’t want to have sex just yet if that’s what you’re asking,” Brian said as he ran his hands down Roger’s thighs, jeans pulled down halfway “, but I do want to make you feel good.”

Roger helped Brian get his pants off, and then made a show of getting rid of his underwear. He fiddled around in his nightstand, handing Brian a small bottle of lube he had bought ‘just in case’. Finally, he got back into his original position, straddling Brian, and resumed kissing him heatedly. The guitarist then surprised them both, using the opportunity to flip them over, leaving Roger underneath him.

Brian pressed their foreheads together, his expression a mixture of desire and nervousness, “Tell me if I’m doing something wrong, okay?”

He peppered Roger’s face with kisses as he popped the lid of the bottle open and coated his hand with lube. The smaller man giggled as Brian placed one last kiss between his eyebrows, wondering (not for the first time) what he had done to deserve him, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Roger couldn’t help but let out a gasp once Brian wrapped his hand cautiously around the tip of Roger’s cock, then traced the slit making Roger arch his back. He started slow, making the younger man shudder as he slowly pumped his hand up and down, twisting his wrist every so often, resulting in soft moans falling from the other man's lips. As his confidence grew, he began to speed up his pace, earning a few whimpers and half-mumbled, half-gasped, mentions of his name, or ' yes, like that, just like that.' It was only when Roger's eyes rolled back in his head, that Brian stopped in his actions.

Roger looked back at him through hooded eyes, "Why'd you stop?"

Brian shrugged, a rare, devilish smile spreading across his face, "I just— felt brave, all of a sudden."

"What do you—" But Roger didn't get to complete the sentence, because Brian scooted backwards and lowered his head, licking Roger's cock from the base to the tip, then sucking on the head. Head thrown back, and shouting Brian's name; Roger came all over the guitarist's shirt. Brian stroked Roger through his orgasm, coaxing, even more, shakey moans out of the drummer.

Roger came back from his high panting and looking down at Brian as if he had hung the moon, "Are you sure you’ve never done this before?"

Brian laughed at Roger's slurred words, then took his soiled shirt off and using it to clean up whatever cum had managed to land on the drummer's thighs and his hands, then throwing it in the general direction of the clothes hamper. "I am 100 percent positive."

Roger opened his arms, beckoning Brian to crawl into them and the guitarist obliged. Placing his head on Roger's chest and nuzzling up to his boyfriend, "Well, if that's what you do on your first time, I'm more than excited to know what you are going to be able to do with a little bit of practice."

Brian chuckled and let his eyes close, only to pry them open a second later when Roger stroked his thumb across his cheek, "Do you want me to return the favour?"

For a second, Brian considered it. After watching Roger's reaction, he found himself very, very interested in experiencing a handjob from his boyfriend himself, but then decided to quit while he was ahead, they had plenty of time for that later. So he shook his head, "Not tonight. Right now I just want to cuddle with you."

Roger cooed for a second at Brian's sleepy tone, then he sat up, "Alright stud, then let me get us ready for bed."

iii. challenge

The dim lighting in the nightclub was barely enough for Roger to make his way across the room without making a fool of himself by tripping or bumping into someone. At the moment, however, he wasn’t thinking about that; all he could think about was the awful text he had received a few moments before and its implications. He thought about the thousand and one horrible scenarios that Deaky’s text forced his mind to imagine.

deacon: come to the bathroom please

deacon: bri needs you

He sprinted up the stairs, taking two at a time, and found that Deaky was waiting for him outside the door. He was tapping the screen of his phone anxiously, and when he saw Roger, the bassist grimaced slightly, “He’s inside.”

Roger felt something twist inside his chest at John’s slurred words. He knew he had started drinking before he had turned eighteen, and he knew that he was barely a few years older than the bassist, but the guilt was starting to claw its way up his throat recently. Even more so now that they were gaining popularity with Sheer Heart Attack and John was becoming a habitual drinker.

Roger gave him a tight-lipped smile, “I’ll deal with it. You go, drink some water.”

“ Roger, ” John complained, but the blonde glared at him.

“I mean it, John. Water. Not Tequila, or Vodka, or whatever you like to drink nowadays. Water.”

The look he gave the bassist left no opportunity for arguing and he pushed into the bathroom. The smell of cleaning chemicals and puke wafted into his nose as soon as he stepped in. The air inside the bathroom was much cooler, and the sounds of conversation replaced the music. Roger called out for his boyfriend and walked towards the last stall once Freddie answered.

Once he opened the door, he was met with the image of Brian slumped against the toilet, drunkenly mumbling something to Freddie as the older man cradled the guitarist’s head, trying to keep it upright. Freddie smiled at Roger and then turned to Brian, “Lovie, Rog’s here.”

Brian instantly seemed to brighten, which made Roger’s heart clench even more. He looked up through heavy-lidded eyes and smiled sloppily at Roger, “Heeey.”

Roger kneeled, and Brian instantly slumped forward, burying his face on the drummer’s shoulder, “Hi, baby. Let’s get you home, yeah?”

Brian whined, shaking his head slightly, “ ‘wanted to dance… with you.”

Tears filled the drummer's eyes at seeing Brian like this, shame making him feel like he might just throw up, “We’ll— we’ll dance tomorrow, alright? I promise you we will, right now I just really want to get home.”

Brian nodded then, and Roger looked up at Freddie, who was staring at them with slightly unfocused eyes, “Go get Deaky, we are going home.”

“Rog I can—”

“No,” Roger insisted, “we are leaving now. I am not coming back to get you later, and you are not going to call a cab. Go get Deaky and let's leave .”

Getting them all inside the car was a long, arduous, task. As was getting them up the stairs to their little apartment. He made sure that all of them had something to drink once they woke up, and that Brian was wearing his pyjamas correctly and was tucked under the blankets. It was only after everyone was passed out in their beds that Roger wandered out into the kitchen. He could hear the soft snores coming from all of the bedrooms, the creaks and groans of the mattresses as they shifted around, and the mumbling sounds Freddie often made in his sleep.

He leaned on the counter, putting his head in his hands, and finally, finally, letting the tears come. They were silent, rolling down his face and landing in splotches on the counter in front of him, dripping down his chin.

It had been a long time since he had felt that guilty; since he had had to be the responsible one. But seeing his boyfriend three shots away from alcohol poisoning, puking his guts out in the bathroom of some second rate club had stirred something inside him. Memories of all kinds came rushing back to him, plaguing him and making him cry harder until he passed out from exhaustion, head in his hands.

He was awoken early that morning when he heard the door to their room being opened. He lifted his head a little and found Brian staring at him, his head tilted to the side, “What are you doing out here, dove?”

Roger ignored his question, raising his head and turning to fully face him, “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve got a killer headache and nausea,” Brian said as he walked over, “but mainly I’m just feeling lonely. I missed you in bed.”

The blonde licked his lips, which were cracked and dry from worrying them, “Sorry, I fell asleep while listening for any trouble around the house.”

Brian looked at the other room, then smiled, “They’ve had worse. They’ll live. I, however, need you tonight.”

Roger looked away, trying to hide the tears that once again filled his eyes, “ ‘m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Brian placed a hand on his shoulder, massaging it a little, “you can make it up by coming back to bed.”

Roger shook his head, “No, I’m sorry ‘bout tonight. It’s my fault.”

Brian stopped rubbing his shoulder and furrowed his eyebrows, “What are you talking about?”

“The drinks,” The blond sighed, leaning away from the guitarist’s touch, “the wild party, you drinking until you puked. That wasn’t you until I came into your life. I’m sorry.”

“Roger I—”

“Why’d you change?” Roger asked, “Is it to impress me? Or to please me? Or—”

The older man grabbed his shoulders, turning him around and making the stool Roger was sitting on squeak in protest. Then Brian lowered himself slightly so that they were at the same level, grabbed Roger’s face between his hands, and looked deep into his eyes, “Roger, I hate to say this, but not everything is about you.”

Concern filled Brian’s eyes as he stared at Roger. Roger, who looked like he had been run over by a truck, though Brian was sure he’d only had a pint.

“It’s not. I swear. And yeah, you taught me to drink, but I’m doing it because I want to. Not because you told me to, or because I want to be more like you. So don’t go around feeling guilty about something you shouldn’t be feeling guilty about, and come to bed with me. You should be feeling guilty about not cuddling with me every moment you can, not about me suddenly liking to get drunk every now and then.”

Roger let out a wet laugh, leaning his head into one of Brian’s hand, “I’m sorry.”

“Third and last ‘I’m sorry’ for today, alright love? I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

Brian stepped closer then, pressing Roger’s face to his chest and placing a kiss on top of his hair. Roger wrapped his arms around the guitarist’s waist, nuzzling into his ribs.

“Brian?”

“Yeah?”

“What happens if I ever turn into him ?”

Brian knew that was one of Rogers greatest, most deep-seated fears. “If that, stupidly impossible, thing ever happens,” Brian said, running a hand through the drummer’s hair, “Then I’ll be here to help the real you return.”

iv. sexual exploration

The night of their second anniversary ‘A Day at the Races’ gets released. Roger doesn’t realise this until three hours before their release party when Freddie walks by, a devilish smirk adorning his face, and says, “Brian’s got quite the gift planned for you. What are you giving him?”

Roger nearly passes out, and it must have shown on his face because Freddie starts laughing at the top of his lungs, “You didn’t get him anything?”

Roger’s sure he just turned the colour of the wall behind him, which is pure white, “With everything going on I just...I forgot today was our anniversary.” He smacked his palm over his face, he was so screwed .

He then spent the rest of the night fretting about what to do for their anniversary. By the end of the night when Brian told him that he wanted to go home, he already knew what he was going to do. Thankfully he still had a bottle of Chardonnay stored in the back of their fridge, their car had gasoline, and he still had that perfect stargazing spot pinned in his Waze locations. It wasn’t much, but he was sure that Brian, the hopeless romantic, would be more than happy with his (yes, a little last minute) gift.

That is until they get home.

Brian barely waits until the door is closed to press Roger to the wall and kiss him hungrily. He only interrupts the kiss to suckle at the spot right below Roger’s earlobe. The one he knows drives the drummer up the wall, “I have a gift for you.”

“Oh yeah?” Roger lets out a soft moan, “What would that be?”

“I want you to top me.” He whispered hotly into his ear.

Rogers blood rushes south almost immediately. He feels himself harden in his pants and can’t help but moan like a teenager. His body feels like it’s been lit on fire at the thought of having proper sex for the first time in more than two years. Then he remembers the reason why he had self-imposed that dry spell and gently pushes Brian away a little.

“Babe, are you sure?” Brian nods quickly, kissing Roger once again, but before he can deepen the kiss, Roger pushes him away once more, “Bri, talk to me, darling. Are you sure you really know what you’re getting yourself into?”

“Yes,” the older man says firmly, “ God, yes, I know. I’ve even practiced getting myself ready.”

“Ready?” For a second Roger’s lust-fogged brain doesn't comprehend what Brian is talking about, then the taller man ghosts his fingers over the curve of Roger’s ass, and that’s the last thing he needs to lose his last remnants of control.

He kisses Brian’s mouth with a newfound fervour, turning and pressing the guitarist to the wall and coaxing small moans out of him every so often, “Brian May, did you really?” He asks, genuine surprise mixing with his teasing.

Brian giggles, which is something Roger has found that he does a lot during sex, blushing for the first time since they started their make-out session, “Why don’t you find out?” He dares, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

The walk to their room is made longer by the fact that they are stripping as they go, barely able to keep their hands off each other. Once they’re on the bed Roger realises two things, the first is that there was already a box of condoms and a bottle of lube on the bed and the second is that his boyfriend, amid his excitement, still looks very nervous.

Roger’s gaze softens, and cradles his boyfriend’s face, “If anything, and I do mean anything, makes you uncomfortable you tell me, alright, Brimi?”

Brian smiles, “Yes. I can do that.”

It starts out slow. Roger takes his sweet time kissing down Brian’s throat, leaving hickeys and love bites as he works his way down. He gives Brian’s nipple one experimental flick of his tongue and relishes the whimper that his boyfriend let outs.

“Can I keep going?”

Brian nods, head thrown back in pleasure as Roger sucks at his nipple and rolls it with his tongue. Meanwhile, his hands roam Brian’s body, tracing his waist, his belly button, his hips, his thighs and finally his groin. Brian gasps out loud at the first fleeting graze against his cock and Roger starts to tease him like he knows the other man likes. He carefully draws out little gasps and whines as he uses one finger to trace the vein on the underside of his cock, never giving him more friction than a light, teasing, roll of his cockhead with his thumb, or a light stroke. Roger knew that Brian hated when he gave him hand jobs without any lube.

The blonde gave one last kiss to the nipple he was working on, then moved to the next one. Brian groaned, “Please, Rog, stop teasing me.”

The younger man smiled against the hard nub  and looked up at Brian through lustful eyes, “Aren’t you enjoying it, love?”

He ran a finger down his cock and reach down to tease Brian’s balls. The older man keened, arching his back off the bed, “If you don’t fuck me right now, Roger Taylor—”

“What are you going to do?” Roger asked as he ran a finger down Brian’s perineum and ghosted it over his hole, “Beg?”

“ Roger.”

“Alright, alright,” Roger pressed a kiss to Brian’s lips and leaned over for the lube and a pillow, “I’m still going to take it slow, okay? I don’t want to hurt you.”

That seemed reasonable enough for Brian, who nodded and instantly stopped squirming. Roger tapped the guitarist’s hips with one finger, signalling him to raise them up. He placed the pillow below him and spread his legs a little wider.

Roger coated his pinky with lube, not wanting to start with anything wider, and teased Brian’s hole by blowing it a little before inserting the first finger. Brian sighed at the sensation, instantly relaxing and throwing his head back a little.

“You really were prepared,” Roger commented, perversely pleased, as he pumped his finger in and out of Brian, making the older man moan.

Roger changed to his index finger after a couple of minutes of teasing Brian with his pinky. Brian was pushing down on his hand, trying to get more friction. Roger kept going at the same punishing pace, slow and teasing, trying to open him up as much as he could before inserting another finger.

Roger then pressed his middle finger in, and Brian keened at the sensation. Head thrown back mouth open in a perfect ‘O’ shape and eyelids fluttering in pleasure his boyfriend looked like the most beautiful thing Roger had ever seen. He leaned down, kissing the tip of Brian’s cock, and giving the member a long lick.

That’s how he opened Brian up, slowly, making sure to get out of him every single glorious sound he could. Scissoring the older man, curling his fingers and giving teasing flicks to his prostate every now and then.

Roger worked in his fourth finger, and the first tear slipped from the corner of Brian’s eye.

That sent Roger flying off the bed, terrified that he had done something wrong and had somehow hurt his boyfriend. Brian lifted his head up, looking at Roger with questioning eyes, tear glimmering slightly in the light of their room, “Roger? Is everything alright?”

Roger took one tentative step forward, “Bri, love, you are crying.”

The guitarist wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, looking embarrassed, “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

Roger walked over to the bed, sitting between Brian’s spread legs and started massaging his hips, “Why were you crying?”

“Just forget it,” Brian said, “It’s embarrassing. Come back here and—”

Roger pressed a kiss to Brian’s lips, shutting him up, “Brian if I did something to make you cry, I need to know—it’s really important to me.”

For a moment, Brian looked unsure, eyes flickering all over Roger’s face before sighing, “You didn’t do anything—well obviously you did but it’s just..I’m just really happy. It seems silly, but I feel like I finally have everything I’ve ever wanted and—of course, now I’ve gone and ruined the moment.” He closed his eyes , feeling embarrassed.

“It’s not silly,” Roger pressed a kiss to Brian’s forehead, “and you didn’t ruin anything. If anything you made it better.”

To prove his point, Roger inched his hand downward and stroked Brian’s dick. Making the guitarist moan and buck up into his touch again. Quite possibly more turned on that before, he gave himself a couple hard strokes before reaching over and grabbing a condom. He ripped open the rubber and promptly pulled it down on his cock, then lubed up as much as possible, wanting to make this pleasurable for Brian.

Roger placed himself at Brian’s entrance, not pushing in yet, and looked into his boyfriend’s eyes, “Put your arms around me, it’ll make it easier.”

Brian did, without a second thought, and Roger started pushing in slowly. He sank in a little and seeing Brian’s eyes widen he waited a moment for him to adjust before pushing in a little more. It was a good thing, actually,  that he was distracted by gauging Brian’s reactions, otherwise the tight head might have ended things embarrassingly soon. After a couple of minutes, Roger bottomed out, and both of them groaned at the feeling. It was then that Brian hooked his legs around Roger’s waist, pressing his head to the crook of the drummer’s neck and grinding firmly against him, seeking more.

But before Roger started really moving, he pressed a firm kiss to Brian’s head of unruly curls, “I love you Bri. More than anything.”

The night they came a few minutes after they started, too overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. Roger was mindful of cleaning them after all was done, making sure that there was no cum or lube on their bodies. And then getting into bed with Brian and snuggling into his chest.

The older man was running a hand through his blonde locks, humming a soft melody, “Rog?”

He hummed in response.

“I might have been a little distracted before, but I love you too. More than anything.”

v. commitment

The morning after their fifth anniversary is glorious.

Sun is shining down from the windows, making Roger’s recently cut hair look like a halo around his face. Brian can hear the sound of the waves breaking on the shore, as well as the chirping of birds, the rustling of the trees and the chefs and maids taking care of their breakfast for them.

One thing was sure, Brian loved touring.

Every once in a while, their management would pamper them, giving them a night of luxury before they had to go back to their hectic schedule. Brian and Roger had asked for this particular night off in advance, and Miami had been more than happy to give them what they wanted.

He had even helped Brian chose the ring which was currently stuffed deep into his side of the closet.

He couldn’t wait for Roger to wake up, for his boyfriend to smile and urge them to go to the pool. Their beautiful pool, with a seaside view, and have something delicious to eat as he declared his undying love for the younger man and ask him to marry him.

He had been so lost in thought that he didn’t notice when Roger opened his eyes, or when the younger man scooted closer. He only noticed when Roger cradled his face and gave him an Eskimo kiss.

“Would you marry me?”

Brian blinked twice, thinking he must have misheard him and leaned away, “What?”

“I asked, ‘would you marry me’, Brian Harold May?”

Or that. That could work too. Brian let out a low chuckle, “Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing...”

Roger’s eyes lit up, “So, that’s a yes?”

“Only if you let me give you my speech tonight,” Brian mumbled as he pressed closer to Roger, “I worked very hard on memorising it and choosing the perfect spot for asking you.”

“You old sap.”

He doesn’t know what comes over him, but instead of answering, he licks the tip of Roger’s nose which earns him a shrill shriek of protest. They both dissolve into laughter a few seconds later, giggling as Roger comments on how gross Brian can be. Yeah, that marriage proposal was better, Brian thinks later that day as he stumbles over his speech and nearly drops the ring into the sand.

Much better.