#dear audience let me tell you the car was silent

[sharkbaitouhaha]

someone wanna explain why after a coworker said “reverse amen” I just blurted out “is that like reverse cowgirl?” In a car full of coworkers, most of whom I’ve known for like less than two weeks?

like come on brain be better

[julesclues]

hi boooo! You’re legit my favorite author on here! I love your writing so much 💕 was wondering if you could do one: outer banks JJ getting so drunk at a party and throwing up at the party and getting sick all over JB car going back to the chateau with all the pogues. And like reader (not Girlfriend yet) taking care of him please 🥺 thank you so much!!!! 😍😍😍 I know you’re busy so like take you’re time and if you don’t want to it’s fine too 💕💕

Drunken Confessions

Warnings: excessive and underage drinking, cursing

Pairing: jj maybank x reader

Word count: 2.48k

Summary: JJ drinks a littleee too much at a party, which makes the reader worried about him. So being the great person she is, she decides to take care of him.

a/n: thank you for the kind words in your request! It really means a lot! <3

3 things JJ Maybank loves most in this world: sex, surfing, and booze. Emphasis on the booze because once he started, it was almost impossible to stop him which, was currently the situation at the party you were all at.

It was a normal party, one mixed with tourons and pouges. But a normal party for JJ obviously meant drinking. You always worried about him when he would over do it like he is now. Though you were all used to the underage drinking, it was kind of hard to remember that it still is, technically, illegal.

The music was almost too loud. You could barely hear your friends as they each took turns telling stories about their most embarrassing moment. “Mine’s gotta be in 3rd grade when I was in the talent show for dancing and wound up twirling off stage,” Kie exclaimed, making all of you laugh. Pope went next and then John B and as you went around the circle, you realized JJ was no where to be found. You stood up in worry and searched the party for his unique clothing style and beautiful set of hair. “Where is he?” You ask, making John B tilt his head. “Who?” You roll your eyes and look at him. “Your best friend?” You ask with a laugh. Before John B could answer though, you all heard some yelling in the distance. Turning your head to the sound, your question was answered.

There was JJ. Standing on top of a table. Chugging beer after beer, almost as if he was putting on a show for the cheering audience under him. They were all applauding him as he downed the substance, some of it pouring down his chest, turning his dark blue tee into black. You groaned in annoyance as you and the other pouges ran up to him. You pushed through the crowd and made your way to the front, giving you the perfect view of JJ’s drunken state. You sigh and stick your hand out to him. “JJ!” You yell, but he still continued to pour the drinks down his throat. “Maybank! Hey! Let’s go!” You attempt again, but it’s no use. So, you climb up on the table with him, earning even more cheers from the people below. Maybe they thought you were going to join him.

He finally turns to you and his eyes light up. “Y/n!” He exclaims happily. As much as you loved JJ, in this moment, you were pretty upset. All you wanted was for him to just take care of himself so he wouldn’t do stupid shit like this. “Let’s go J,” you whisper only loud enough for him to hear. You reach out to him but he dodges your touch. “No!” He yells, scanning the people below. “Please J. Come on. Please let’s go home,” you plead, making JJ turn toward you. This time, his eyes were soft and warm, almost as if he had turned sober for a quick moment. “Ugh, fine,” he groans, but secretly doesn’t mind the feeling of your finger tips guiding him off the table and back to the pouges. You ignored the boo’s you heard from the others, but they soon forgot about it. To you, they weren’t worth JJ’s time.

“He’s shit faced,” you state to the other pouges, as JJ leans further into your side. Without you, he might have fallen over. “What’s new?” Pope laughs, making you roll your eyes. You knew that this was normal for JJ and that the pouges took it as a joke, but that doesn’t mean it should’ve been normalized. You always worried about JJ and the fact that the other pouges didn’t, made you upset.

You sigh as you sway awkwardly with JJ, thinking about what to do. “Can we just take him back to John B’s? He can’t be drinking anymore guys,” you plead, as John B nods and grabs his keys to the van. “Let’s go then.” You all start walking to the van, you and JJ a little bit behind due to his wonky walking. “You’re cute,” he laughs in his drunken state, making you smile a bit. JJ flirting with you both sober and drunk wasn’t out of the ordinary, but it never failed to make you blush like a middle schooler. “You too J,” you admit, and he chuckles without saying another word.

You make it to the van where Kie holds the door open for you two to hop into the back. You shove JJ in first, having him sit near the window while you sit in the middle and Kie sits next to you guys. John B starts the van and starts driving, which makes JJ hold his stomach. You’re the only one who notices it. “You okay JJ?” You ask him, but all he does it roll down the window. “I’m gonna throw up,” he mumbles, making your eyes go wide. “Oh no JJ, not in the van please,” John B begs. JJ doesn’t say anything as he sticks his head out the window and starts violently throwing up. All of you groan and laugh, as you rub JJ’s back to soothe him. You repeat the phrases “it’s okay” and “you’re okay” like a mantra.

You felt something on your thigh and looked down to see JJ’s hand. After pulling his head back out the window, he plops down on the soft seat under him and looks at you with a sloppy smile while squeezing your thigh in reassurance. “I’m good,” he laughs, looking around the van. “Good cause if you ever throw up in my van, I’ll kill you,” John B chuckles, making everyone else laugh along.

Finally making it back to John B’s, with JJ getting sick almost every 5 minutes, you limp with him by your side as the pouges rush to get the door open for you two. “Come on,” you grunt, finding it a bit difficult to hold JJ up by yourself. He keeps giggling and laughing while slurring his words. “Get him cleaned up in the bathroom y/n,” Pope says, and you nod. “We’ll get him water and some tylenol but until then, just make sure he doesn’t throw up all over my house,” John B exclaims, making you chuckle and adjust yourself against JJ. “Sure thing John.”

You walk into the bathroom with JJ and plop him down on the toilet seat. He sways back and forth, struggling to keep his eyes open. “Jesus J, your clothes are so dirty,” you whisper with a sigh. “Would you like me to strip then, princess?” You roll your eyes but can’t help but grin at his flirty words. “Shut it Maybank. Let’s just get you cleaned u-“

Your words were interrupted by JJ rushing to get off the toilet seat so he could open it. He instantly started throwing up, gripping the sides of the toilet until his knuckles turned white. You instantly got on your knees and sat behind him, rubbing his back to try and soothe him. “Shit JJ..” you say sympathetically. “I fucking hate when you do this shit.” After a minute or so of throwing up, he sits down on the floor and wipes him mouth. “Come here,” you mumble, coming closer to him with a napkin, but he swats your hand away. “JJ..” you warn. “Y/n just get out of here, okay? I don’t need you taking care of me.” You blink in surprise of his words and how quickly he can switch up. “Instead of being petty JJ, how about you be grateful that someone cares about you!” He scoffs and looks away. “Whatever,” he hiccups. “Why do you even care? It’s not like you’re my girlfriend.” 

You freeze for a minute, trying to pretend like his words didn’t hurt you as much as they did. “You’re an asshole sometimes JJ. Girlfriend or not, I care about you. So stop denying my help and just shut up! God, I don’t even know why I’m fighting with you. You’re obviously so drunk right now. You don’t mean anything you’re saying.” You get up and stick your hand out for him. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.” He looks at your hand and then up at you. You shoot him a smile and he could swear, drunk or not, that smile would be the death of him one day. 

He hesitantly takes your hand, and you pull him up, having him stumble a bit before regaining his balance. You lead him to his bedroom and plop him down on his bed. You kneel down to take off his shoes for him, but he stops you. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, looking down to the ground. “For what?” You ask him, sitting down next to him. He feels the bed dip down a bit, which makes him sway a little. “For what I said in the bathroom,” he mumbles. You shake your head and chuckle. “JJ, you’re just drunk. I know you don’t mean any of it.” You were always so patient and understanding when it came to JJ. It was one of the many things he loved about you. That’s what made you so different from the other pouges. 

“Y/n?” He whispers. “Hm?” You ask in the same volume that he had used. “I like you a lot.” You smile and grip his shoulder. “I like you a lot too, JJ.” He shakes his head and lays down on his bed, looking up at the ceiling. “No Y/n,” he sighs, while closing his eyes. “I don’t think you understand. I like you a lot.” You tilt your head for a second in confusion, but instantly look at him wide eyed when you get what he meant. “Wha- JJ? Are you serious?” But he doesn't respond. All you heard from him was his silent snores. You get up from his bed and look down at him, to see he was fast asleep. Your breathing starts to pick up as you pace around the room silently. “Oh my god, oh my god. He didn’t mean that, right? He’s just drunk.. right? My god Y/n, who are you even asking? You’re alone. Right.. okay.” You stop pacing and grab a blanket that’s folded on JJ’s bed and cover him, leaning down to give him a quick kiss on the forehead. “You better have meant what you said JJ, or I’ll kill you.” 

You leave a letter for him and go on your way, hoping he calls you in the morning or is not too sick to remember what he meant. 

Dear JJ, 

It’s your favorite person :) You were pretty drunk last night so the pouges left you some water and medicine while I took care of you. When you wake up, give me a call, okay? We kinda need to talk. And please JJ, try not to get so drunk anymore. You worry me when you do. I care about you. Girlfriend or not. 

Love, Y/n <3

-----

JJ wakes up the next morning with a groan and a pounding headache. He felt like he got hit by a truck. He never drinks this much and he knew it, but for some reason last night was different. He was trying to forget. And apparently it worked because he forgot what he was trying to forget. Bingo. He blinks a couple of times to get his vision from blurry to clear before standing up and stretching. He  looks down at his nightstand and finds a folded piece of paper and instantly recognizes your handwriting. 

He opens the letter and reads it. His eyes go wide when he reads “girlfriend or not.” He starts to wonder what he could’ve possibly said to you last night for you to include that in the letter, but his memory is failing him. Nevertheless, he finds his phone and quickly finds your contact, hesitantly clicking “call.” 

You answer after a couple of rings with a chipper yet out of breath ‘hello.’ 

“Hey Y/n..” he says softly, hearing your pants. “Are you okay?” he asks with a hint of concern in his voice. “Yeah J, I-I’m good. Just surfing. Why don’t you join me? None of the other pouges are here, and I’d like to talk to you, if that’s okay.” You didn’t sound mad or upset, which JJ took into consideration. The last thing he ever wanted was to make you upset. “Sure, yeah. I’m on my way.” 

-----

JJ meets you on the beach about 15 minutes after your phone call. “Hey J!” You say, running up to him with a smile. “How are you feeling?” You ask him, and he just rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m a little out of it but the strangest thing is that I don’t remember anything from last night.” Your face instantly drops and JJ is quick to recognize your disappointment. “Oh..” you sigh, biting the inside of your cheek and looking down. “What’s the matter? Did I say something last night? Y/n whatever I said, I didn’t mean it, okay?” You look back up at JJ with a bit of tears in your eyes. “You said you liked me,” you mumble, making JJ tilt his head. “Of course I like you,” he chuckles. You shake your head, realizing you were mimicking his actions from last night. “No JJ. You said you liked me.” His eyes go wide, immediately realizing what you meant. “Oh.. Y/n, I- I don’t-”

“Did you mean it J?”

“Y/N-”

“Just tell me JJ. Please. Don’t lie to me, okay?”

 JJ looks down for a moment, contemplating on whether or not he should tell the truth to you and potentially ruin the friendship, or lie to you, and ruin the friendship even further. He saw how hurt you look when he said he didn’t remember, so maybe, just maybe, there was a slight chance that you liked him back. 

“I like you Y/n. I do. More than a friend. I didn’t want to tell you while I was shitfaced and with you taking care of me. But I did, and I’m sorry. You deserved a better confession from me. I really do like you Y/n but if you don’t like me back then that’s okay. I ju- are you crying?!”

You wipe the tears away as you chuckle from JJ’s concerned face from you crying. “Of course I am, you idiot!” You exclaim, walking closer to him. “JJ I like you too. So much. I was really hoping you were telling the truth because I don’t think I could watch you have one night stands anymore,” you laugh, and so does he. “So does this mean..” his voice trails off but you knew what he meant. You nod with a smile and he returns it, blinking slowly. 

“Can I kiss you now?”

“Please do.”

[amimimi]

reki and langa taking care of their drunk s/o

synopsis: headcanons about how reki and langa takes care of your drunk ass

pairings: langa x reader, reki x reader

warnings: underage drinking (drink responsibly pleath!), getting sick, drunk..ness, I use the word “sexy”

notes: school is beating my ass, so i wrote this just to lighten the mood. i want to have one out for joe and cherry tomorrow! and i also want to write one where you take care of them while they're drunk too! but omg pls drink responsibly tho! 😭 I apologize in advance for any spelling/grammatical errors!

REKI

PLS he'd be so stressed out

he's taken care of drunk friends before and didn't even bat an eye but when it's you, he's a lot more concerned because you're his bby <3

will probably laugh a bit at your antics and take cute pictures of you

but then you’d get sick and he starts freaking out and looking up common signs of alcohol poisoning njgksdkdhskf

so he’s closing up at dope with manager oka when he gets a call from your phone number

he’s a little worried when he picks up and it’s your friend that’s calling him, and not you

“where’s y/n? are they okay? why can’t they talk to me?” he spits out without even taking a breath

oka and him are standing outside the shop

oka has one hand on the grate as he stares hard at reki, obviously concerned

“oh they’re fine! we were gonna meet up with our other friends to go to a party, but they go too drunk. ” your friend tells reki breezily.

reki hears your voice in the background, tiny and slurred, and his heart squeezes

“yea, i’m talking to him right now!” he hears your friend say to you. “yea, he’s coming right now...you want me to what?”

“hey,” your friend says directly into the receiver, taking to reki now “y/n said they miss you and they wanted to know if you miss them back”

“yeah, i miss them a lot” reki answers easily, exchanging glances with manager oka, who’s still looking confused and concerned

“y/n, he said he misses you too...why are you crying again?” your friend sighs, and reki’s heart clenches in his chest. “yeah, just come pick them up...please. i’ll send you the address”

reki hangs up and looks up at manager oka, who’s waiting for an explanation

“could you please give me a ride?” reki begs him, clasping his hands out in front of him.

and of course, manager oka says yes

when they arrive outside your friend’s place, reki thanks manager oka for the ride

“are you sure you got everything from here?” oka asks slightly uneasy about the situation. all reki told him was that you needed to see him—urgently

reki fumbles to take off his seatbelt and opens the car door

“yeah! i’m fine! thank you very much!” he says frantically.

“okay, call me if you need anything” oka frowns.

when your friend opens the door for reki, he kicks his shoes off and immediately is like “where are they?”

he’s led into your friend’s bedroom, to see you laying on your friend’s bed, wearing a short dress

you're crying face first into a pillow, not even noticing when reki and your friend stepped in the room

“hey, look who came to rescue you!” your friend grins, stepping into the bedroom after reki.

you slowly look up and blink some tears away to see reki standing by the door, looking at you anxiously

“reki?” you hiccup, struggling to sit up only to fall back down with a squeak.

reki’s heart twists as he watches you, before rushing over to help you with open arms.

“i’m here, baby, i’m here” reki sits on the bed and he pulls you upright. you slump into his chest like a rag doll and rubs soothing circles into your back. “you are so dumb for this”

“am not!” you weakly protest into his chest, your voice muffled.

"are too" reki counters, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

" 'was an accident..." you murmur, nuzzling your face against his chest

"no it wasn't" your friend clicks their tongue as you groan.

reki thanks your friend for taking care of you and for calling him before taking you back to your place.

you live just two down blocks from your friend's place so reki doesn't see the harm in walking

he thinks it may even be good for you

reki gives your his dope sketch sweater because all you're wearing is that short halter dress

tries to walk with his arm wrapped around your waist for support, but you're sagging against him heavily

so he just gives your a piggyback ride the rest of the way home

"oh my god, you're not wearing a hoodie right now..." you slur into his shoulder

"yeah, because i gave it to you" he hoists you higher up on his back and you giggle

“oh yeah,” you say.

you’re silent for a bit, before you lift your head off from reki’s shoulder and to reki’s horror, shout “y’all! this man gave me his hoodie! i think he gotta crush on me!😩🙈”

“shhh!!” reki hisses, pinching your thigh, which only makes you shriek. “people are trying to sleep! who are you even talking to??”

“the audience!” you announce, your voice booming through the empty street. reki rolls his eyes, not even wanting try arguing with you

“okay, okay just shut up please”

“you’re embarrassed because i told the audience that you gave your hoodie”

“okay then, tell the audience how you were crying for me to come see you”

“i...don’t recall that”

when you both finally make it to your home, you’ve quiet downed a little and reki is slightly relived/unsettled

he’s carrying you to your room until your tighten your grip around his neck and whimper “reki, i don’t feel good...”

reki bolts to the bathroom before placing you in front of the toilet just in time for you to get sick

he isn’t grossed out (he has three little sisters and he’s taken care of them when they’ve been sick) but he is shaken up

reki holds your hair back with one hand and alternates between rubbing your back and supporting you forehead with another—ALL WHILE scolding you for drinking so much dhjdjdbdjd

“you need to drink more responsibly! you shouldn’t of even be drinking! you’re underaged! oh my god, what did you even drink? how much did you drink?”

he can’t help it, he’s so worried for you

he’ll stop scolding you if you start crying tho, like how can he be upset at that?

wipes your mouth and kisses your temple before asking if your feeling better

when you say yes, he holds you up by your shoulders as you brush your teeth and rinse your mouth

he does your skin routine for you as best as he can (you have so many steps, it’s ungodly)

reki changes you into something more comfortable for bed and orders you to drink a glass of water

you’re so out of it that you comply, reluctantly of course

reki sits beside on you on your bed as you look at him glumly while you sip from the glass of water

“ahh, don’t give me those eyes. i’m making sure you don’t prune up” he pouts back at you, smoothing one of your eyebrows down with his thumb.

when you finish your water, he takes the glass for you and sets it your bedside table

“you have painkillers right? you’re gonna need them tomorrow morning” reki sighs as takes his jeans off to slip into bed with you

“in my drawer...” you murmur, your eyes half shut as you lay on your side. “are you gonna go?”

reki folds his jeans and places them on your desk, before walking back over to you

“nope, i gotta watch you for the night” he smiles softly at you and you give a shaky sigh of relief that makes reki’s heart burst

“it’ll be like a sleepover” reki says, as he slips next to you and turns on his side to face you

“a sexy sleepover” you nod, and reki frowns

“no...”

“...yes”

“you’re drunk”

“—in love, as our dear Beyoncé puts it” you slur, slightly grinning. reki doesn’t reply, staring at you disapprovingly, and you croak out— “we be all night! looooveeee—”

reki grabs your face with one hand, looking somewhere between horrified and amused

“i can’t stand you, right now” reki’s shoulders shaking with silent laughter

“but you’re already laying down—”

“enough, enough! roll over!” reki hisses, he points in the opposite direction with his finger

you giggle but comply

you feel reki’s hands wrap around your waist as he snuggled up from behind, spooning you

“i promise you, you won’t be laughing in the morning” he whispers into your ear as you begin to drift off

LANGA

just one big “?”

googling “how to take care of drunk person” with one hand with his other arm wrapped around your waist

alternates between confused and concerned

if you get sick, langa will actually call an ambulance—you have to tell him that you’re fine and even then he’s reluctant

you, langa, and reki all went to a party after S

you and reki are kinda amped, but langa isn’t enjoying himself all that much

people shouting across the room, shoving into him, the smell of alcohol—it’s all too much for him

so he’s like “ mkay, i’m out 🚶”

so he makes sure reki stays with you before walking to an isolated corner in the backyard to get some air

it hasn’t even been 30 minutes when you and reki stumble over to where he sits, arms wrapped around each other’s necks and giggling

langa watches the both of you stagger up to him with weary eyes, he already KNOWS that his night is gonna get stranger

“your darling, y/n, is drunk” reki announces, trying to keep a straight face

“reki is too!” you protest, stepping on reki’s foot causing him to yelp.

langa. exe has crashed

he realizes that he has to take care of the both of you,,,and he has no clue how

langa sits up from the planter he was sitting on and grabs both of your arms

“we’re going home” he says flatly, earning whines from both you and reki

langa drags you both to the front yard, as the both of you struggle in his grasp

“langaaa~ we didn’t even get to dance!” you whine, trying to break free from langa’s grasp

“langa, man, the party literally just started—” reki protests, struggling to get langa to let go of his arm. “holy hell, you’re strong”

“yea...it’s kinda hot” you murmur, slumping toward langa, who continues to drag you through the front door and onto the lawn. “langa, you’re so strong and hot, thank you for dating me”

when he’s dragged you both onto the sidewalk, he looks both ways down the street before asking “who lives closest to here?”

all of sudden, reki pitches forward to be sick

“langa! he’s dying, do something!” you wail, beginning to cry.

langa grips the back of reki’s hoodie to keep him from falling face forward

“okay” langa sighs as you drunkenly sob into his chest and reki moans, barely supporting himself. “i’m calling an adult”

he calls hiromi and begs him to come pick all three of you up

the three of you wait, sitting on the curb

langa is sitting between you and reki, an arm wrapped around you as you murmur nonsense into his chest and a hand clasped on reki’s shoulder who’s seeming a bit more lucid

“i promise you i’m fine! i get drunk quick but it fades away! let’s go back in!” reki pleads, earning a frown from langa

“y/n is still drunk, and you should probably go home” he looks down at you with sad eyes when you whimper against his chest. “i shouldn’t have let them drink”

hiromi brings the company car, shouting at the three of you as langa loads you and reki into car

hiromi is mad as hell but he still gets out to help langa buckle you in

langa offers for reki to come over to his house so he can monitor both

but hiromi grudgingly offers to watch reki because he knows there is no way langa can take care of you both

so hiromi drops you and langa off, telling him to call him if anything happens

langa carries you bridal style in his room and sits down on his bed with you in his lap

you blink up at him sleepily at him, holding onto his shoulders for support

“i don’t think you should’ve been drinking” he whispers, steadying you with his hands on your waist

“i don’t think i should have either” you murmur, before smushing your face into his neck. “i don’t wanna be drunk anymore, how do i stop?”

you sound close to crying and langa feels his stomach twist with panic because fuck, he doesn’t know either

he holds you against his chest with one arm and hastily whips out his phone, googling “how to stop being drunk”

cut him some slack y’all, he’s TRYING

he sees a “cold shower”, “plenty of sleep”, and “hydration” in the top results

sports mode langa: activated

carries you into the bathroom to give you a cold shower, but then you abruptly get sick and langa is like “!!?!!$!!??”

like reki, he’s gonna hold your hair and pat your back, but he’s too shook to scold you

says strange, earnest things like “you’re doing great!” and “you’re being very brave, i’m proud of you!”

unlike reki though, he’s slightly grossed out about by v*mit but he continues to be a dutiful boyfriend

waits until your done and you slump back against him, half asleep.

he decides the shower isn’t a GREAT idea with you being this groggy

langa isn’t letting you move an INCH

brushes your teeth for you—like he makes you open your mouth and gently brushes along your teeth

carries you to bed (he likes carrying you, he isn’t gonna lie)

he gives you one of his long sleeves to wear to bed and helps you out your clothes

langa holds a water bottle up to you lips and even tips your head back gently sjduslsjxjisej he’s so <333

his bed is pretty small and he’s pretty lanky, so he tucks you in, making sure you sleep on your side

he kneels on the floor beside you, his upper body resting on his bed and his face right next yours

langa holds your hand and watches you as you struggle to stay awake

“i’m sorry” you croak and langa kisses your finger

“don’t be sorry, it happens” he assures you quietly, his face slightly softening.

you blink bearily as you take in langa’s face, glowing in the moonlight shining through is window

“you’re so pretty” you murmur, weakly gripping his fingers. “i wish you could see yourself right now”

langa softly smiles at you as drift off

he watches you the whole night as you sleep, making sure you don’t skip a breath

notes: i’m writing one for joe and cherry and i’m gonna post that real soon!

edit: here it is!

[sugar-petals]

Your First Date With Baekhyun

:: bbh x sm apprentice!reader

words. 10k

warnings ⚠️ idol au hc, pining, brief angst, eventual car sex 👀, tw light injuries bc baek is clumsy in love, oral fixation, finger sucking, rough sex, making out

↳ NOTE. here we go again with the slow burn ✊🔥

It all starts with a divine act of clumsiness. 

An accident, completely out of the blue.

Who is surprised, what else could it be.

Ever since Baekhyun violently bumped into you from behind in the SM cafeteria to avoid Mark spilling red hot Americano on him… life has never been the same. 

That you walked in on him walking around mighty topless, with you wanting to clear the dance practice room many hours after work three times already does not help.

It’s always the same chain of events. He practices for longer than the others and gets sweaty, pulls off his shirt, pauses the music for a five-minute break. That’s unintentionally making it seem like everyone is already gone and the room is empty — you are deceived by it every time, and he almost gets a heart attack himself. We know how easily embarrassed Baekhyun is with showing skin by accident, outside of any shower stalls that is, let alone being caught stripping by himself. 

The first time he screams and you scream, off you run after quickly shutting the door. He tries his best to cover himself up with his hands, but to no avail. Lucas, Kai, and Johnny are no longer the only Magic Mikes under this rowdy fucking roof anymore. Even if you turned around fast, you saw more than a whole lot. 

You know how scared Baekhyun is by surprises, he gets all fidgety. Even after four whole minutes, he still sits with the music off breathing harder than he did from powering through four jointbreaking ligament-snappers I mean EXO choreographies. 

Lot of thoughts on his mind, lot of blood pumping through him. Baekhyun can hear a pretty hefty heartbeat pound in his ears. Eventually, he shakes his head at himself and does switch the music back on. But even that doesn’t distract him, nor can he concentrate on the moves. He keeps on asking himself — what the hell is wrong, what is this, why does he act like that? 

So, he ends up sneaking out of the room to call it a day. You were waiting in the nearby corridor to do the cleaning after he left. But now, you hide behind a shelf with props and miscellanea to avoid him. 

Of course, Baekhyun comes to grab a water bottle from said cupboard. Well, oh shit. He has his shorts on, and his calves are literally 20 inches away from you. He doesn’t see you crouching down there, but your pulse is going through the roof now, too. 

In fact, not even the days when Taeyong is walking around the company in a sexy as hell crop top could cause you such a panic. And that is the highest possible bar already. The average apprentice almost faints.

There’s pungent sweat that can knock you out of your socks… and then there’s sexy sweat scent mixed with men’s deodorant. Baekhyun leaves the latter after rushing out of the corridor. It’s even more intense in the practice room, if not absolutely unbearable. Oh boy. Pheromones, please no.

It’s almost as if you’re taking a bath in cologne. You’re getting nauseous and tingly from how it gets to you. You can hardly focus on scrubbing the mirror. If only the guy knew what horniness he is causing just by infusing the air, what the fucking fuck.

The second time, he jerks up again, but tries to explain himself. But so do you, ending up with a mutual, stuttering word spill in sync. 

Neither of you understood what the other was saying because you were too busy with a knee-jerk dialogue. Anxious all over, you quickly leave and eventually end up hiding behind the cupboard again. The new comeback track blasts even louder in the practice room. 

The third occasion, you no longer flinch at each other and laugh a little, mighty embarrassed still, but apologize with knowing eyes. This time, you enter the room after a small „Can I?“ and at least manage to clear some noodle boxes and unused towels from the backup dancers away, and pin a new schedule to the door. 

Baekhyun quickly pulls over his plain white tee and keeps on mumbling sorry, sorry like he’s Super Junior, practically scraping the ground with his hair because he bows so deep. 

You’ve never seen him this awkward. Instead of his usual one-liners and most effortless conversation starters, he resorts to switching on the music again after frantically looking everywhere but in your direction. He sings his lines right along, getting back into the routine’s intricate steps. 

Strange. 

Very strange.

All day, he is impulsive with lightening up just about any situation. One sentence, hook line and sinker; the mood alleviates. Not this time. He’s ignoring you now that you’re in the room.

The truth is: Baekhyun can’t help but set his pupper eyes on you in all other occasions already, especially when you’re busy at a distance. And it’s making him crazy. Next day at the cafeteria, he deliberately arrives late so he can queue way, way behind you. 

For the first time in all glorious epochs K-Pop history, he would let Sehun enter the line before him so he would have a shield. „Maknaes first“ is his brief comment, and Sehun thinks that Baekhyun must squarely confuse today with his birthday.

And fate says… sike. Two minutes later, a teary Mark rushes toward you and loudly apologizes for the Americano disaster. „Baekhyun was not being impolite, it was me!“

As he says just that, he turns, points right at Baekhyun’s tomato red head peeking out from behind Sehun’s shoulders, and bows to him. 

The whole cafeteria is witness, including Lee Soo Man.

And SHINee, who will have gossip material for five weeks because of this. Key is already taking notes. 

And BoA — who’s giggling because she’s seen it all in the business and knows exactly what’s going on with Baekhyun and you. Oh. Lord.

Baekhyun wants to sink into the ground right then and there. He’s been found out again. Of course he has to step out from his lair now and bow back to Mark, take the blame and explain the whole incident all over, and comfort him with a string of appeasing words. Which he hates for four reasons at the same time. He embarrassed Mark, himself, disturbed you the way he bumped into your back, and now you saw him hiding from… precisely you. Little does he know you did, too. 

Baekhyun quickly retreats to sit next to Sehun once again after Mark has calmed down and he, being the senior as always, has performed another 180° bow to you in front of the entire staff and idol audience, causing his oversized shirt to slip downward, way to his armpits. 

Goodness gracious.

BoA is this close to shouting „get a room“ upon seeing Baekhyun stand in front of you with his stomach all bare until he has hastily tucked his shirt back into this place. Fast as it happens, you can’t hide your reaction face. 

Chanyeol, sitting at a nearby table, does a telling reaction noise himself, and you can tell he’s read the situation to a T. Even worse, he’s whistling. You can fool a lot of people, but not Park „Radar“ Chanyeol. He’s a himbo incarnate, but this guy’s emotional intelligence is too damn strong, and he knows Baekhyun inside out. Oh shit, man.

The next ten minutes are fraught with a weird, sonorous mumbling in the room. Lee Soo Man doesn’t really get it, thank God. But the meaning of Baekhyun silently cowering behind Sehun while eating his kimchi stew is more than obvious to half of the people around. Baekhyun never fucking acts like this, even when he’s sad.

It’s like something is pushing the two of you into humiliating situations like that ever since you started to work at SM since last May. Literally Baekhyun can’t stop apologizing to you all day because he’s suddenly clumsy or the strangest situations happen.

Nope, he doesn’t do it on purpose. But yes, he finds himself enjoying your attention. So what is he going to do? This keeps being stuck on his mind. Especially because half of EXO, NCT, and SuperM is asking him what the hell is going on in three raging group chats at once.

And you? I don’t have to tell you how it feels like when Baekhyun stumbles over to squarely plant his cutesy baby face into your back. Firmly wrapping his hands around your waist on top of that not to fall over entirely. That feeling is locked into your muscle memory. And now, seeing him stripped down for the fourth time already? Goodbye to your sleep.

Special thanks to a jittery Mark for making this first hug I mean collision out of nowhere happen. Just to be sure: Mark really didn’t spill his coffee on purpose, nor did Baekhyun want to bump into you this hard. And we know Mark’s reflexes are usually fast enough to save the day. But he was about to host his first variety show all by himself, so you can imagine how shaky and distracted he was. And nobody will resent him — this is only all about you and Baekhyun… being the most repressed motherfuckers.

Baekhyun constantly almost-crashing into you somewhere or basically crawling on the ground before you makes for a second very shaky guy. What the hell is pulling him towards you wherever he goes? It’s even worse than Minseok moving one inch and accidentally smacking Baekhyun in the face.

It just goes on and on.

Following the second cafeteria embarrassment, the next Friday after lunch, you run into each other at the ground floor elevator exit so you would drop your fries. Yeah, extra crispy ones, with the best mayonnaise. Baekyhun has been feeling so guilty about his curse at this point that he orders extra fries for you at the cafeteria two times a week with his card. Which makes Chanyeol know dear Eros struck particularly hard. Because if he didn’t care, Baekhyun would pay it five times a week like he does for NCT every now and then. But if he does it only two times, something is at stake. He doesn’t want it to be apparent.

Baekhyun can’t even look you in the eye when he puts them on your tray. Instead, he quickly bows three times in a row and then disappears. This guy is a small puddle of blush. 

Lee Soo Man cites him into his room to say what’s wrong soon, but all Baekhyun can blurt out is that he didn’t sleep well and the comeback song won’t get into his head. Which is not a direct lie, so.

Whatever you do, Baekhyun appears out of the blue and falls to your feet. Only two days later, he returns from shooting an MV and slips right in front of your office. Pretty much because his feet stumble over his own pants. You put the paperwork aside and check what the hell is going on outside. A dizzy Baekhyun straight-up hit his head at your door. He declines you helping him up because he knows that your touch is probably gonna make him fully insane. He walks around with a forehead patch during the comeback stage and people online think it’s the latest trend.

Somebody save this man.

The universe just keeps on arranging the silliest things to make shit happen, huh.

At this point, Baekhyun developing a full-blown apprentice crush is as obvious as Lucas being tall.

Now, the reality is. This man is Hitch, the Date Doctor. He notoriously handles crowds, can get along with anyone he’s put together with on camera, helps the other members to juggle their love life whenever they have a problem. Chen is probably a married man because of Baekhyun in one way or another. He isn’t really shy normally in his own words. But when it comes to his own crushes — classic case of everybody’s cupid who gives good advice they would need the most. 

That Baekhyun is helpless with anything that digs beneath the surface of his usual interactions will show to you very soon. There’s tough Baekhyun, there’s cute Baekhyun, and then there’s an utterly speechless little bean who has an internal meltdown when you do as much as take the stairs together. The difference is staggering. He’s fidgety, tense, makes himself even smaller and first and foremost: Is impressionable to an extreme.

In short: Baekhyun has fully converted into a fake maknae.

It’ll show in staff meeting conversations on trivial things about the schedule that he wing-mans everybody but himself when shit hits the fan. He stutters in your presence. Baek’s a mess. Chanyeol takes Baekhyun to the side and raises his brows at him at least five times a day, as in wanting to say: „Are you ever going to do something about it?“

Baekhyun dodges the answer each time and preoccupies himself with social media. Fans will later say that he hasn’t uploaded as many Twitter replies, Youtube videos, and Instagram snapshots in his whole career. And Baekhyun is already quite active online so you can tell how much he’s spamming.

Secretly… hoping you see his online activity. Which you do. 

You’ve memorized his five latest vlogs down to the cute little sound noises he’s making. Still, you hide behind the cupboard, and he is hiding behind an unsuspecting Johnny. Because Sehun is already grumbling about becoming a human shield, and Chanyeol would tease Baekhyun to the hell and back whenever you’re around.

Why does all of that happen? Why is he trying to escape? 

The answer is, Baekhyun feels an overpowering respect towards you. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from, it’s something you exude. To the point where he isn’t able to clown you the way he does with others. It’s literally that bad.

On top of that, Baekhyun is frustrated that whatever extroversion he can switch on during broadcasts, fan meets, and with the other members is suddenly failing him. He tries hard to fall back to his usual humor, but you being around makes him act much more erratic. And, surprisingly reserved, believe it or not.

Eye contact will make him break whatever character he’s trying to tune into for the sake of keeping it together. The exact opposite will happen. All the blushing and boiling hot sweat gives him away. Your own heated af face he doesn’t even notice.

In his mind, he’s going through any possible way of mannerisms to get your attention all while not embarrassing himself. He gives confident SuperM leader Baekhyun a shot, comedian Baekhyun, too, and he will don a pokerfaced version of himself as a last option whenever you are close. 

All unsuccessfully. He can’t keep the façade for long; he knows he’s acting strange and inconsistent that way. Do you even realize what you merely sitting in the same practice room is doing to this guy?  

As you can tell…

It’s up to you to hit on him. Finding an unmistakable balance between being breathtakingly forward and overly subtle. The right way to ask him out is somewhere in between. The way you gauge it, Baekhyun is turned off by all kinds of brazen approaches, but doesn’t want to be nudged with satin gloves and feathers either.

However, you end up playing too lowkey at first try because you’re just as nervous. You think, maybe it’s good to find out how interested in me he will admit he is. Which, given how much he tries to conceal his feelings, turns out to be a difficult idea.

And — Isn’t is crystal clear he likes you a whole lot by the way he tries to retreat from everyone but you? Recently, fleeing to stand behind Lucas. Who has the most hiding surface and won’t question what Baekhyun is doing there all the time, unlike Johnny.

So, how do you learn that your plan is a bad idea? You try to involve yourself in NCT’s Friday night truth-or-dare where Baekhyun always joins to mess with everyone.

But that weekend, he interestingly excuses himself to „practice English, it’s urgent!“. Off he goes as soon as he sees that you are part of the lineup, looking like he’s seen a ghost. 

So, that mission failed. You get Taeyong, Haechan, and Yuta twerking against you at the same time while wearing sailor moon outfits as a dare instead. 

However: You still learned something from this. The way that even Haechan’s wild gyrating and arguably great ass did not have a single effect on you tells you that you really want someone else really damn bad. Hell, if Yuta Nakamoto winds against you and you feel nothing—

And, something else has become apparent to you.

Professional he is, Baekhyun establishes rapport even with people he dislikes or feels neutral about, but when his more vulnerable feelings are in the game, he runs from them. 

Beside Chanyeol and BoA, you’re smart enough to begin seeing what clockwork ticks inside of him. When Baekhyun doesn’t try to get close to someone that’s around him so frequently, something is mighty wrong and his opinion about that someone must be an intense one. And it’s not because he hates that person, the opposite is the case. 

He’s almost less afraid of you than his worries of ruining it. 

But through what, you’re wondering, seriously. 

On the other hand, you get why Baekhyun keeps a viable distance. He knows it’s difficult to be associated with him in the way he wishes you were. Since people were looking at him and you so strange in the cafeteria, he even stopped practicing in the after hours. 

Two weeks later, he even quits buying you fries for lunch and eats in the recording studio instead. Chanyeol remains correct: Much is at stake.

After the truth-or-dare fail, you sit down in sobriety and go through your options. You get all sorts of grand ideas to reveal your feelings, but dismiss the majority of it. You have to start small, really small. This needs the utmost care. Especially because you don’t want to compromise him by accident any further, nor are you anywhere near as ballsy as you believe someone hitting on Byun Baekhyun needs to be. 

Truth be told: BoA would kick your ass for thinking that. And letting so many opportunities pass, as if you aren’t beating yourself up for it enough. Idol mode Baekhyun, well, he would be hard to approach indeed. But what is currently going on… he’s literally showing you his underbelly. He’s begging you to do something.

That he avoids even the lightest touch: More than telling to BoA’s knowing eye. He would be so easy to sway with just one sentence. She knows that at this point, Baekhyun is desperate. His yes would come so fast. You’re far from having faith in this. But you still try. You want this man.

Eventually, you rack your brain for anything understated you could do. 

Then, you get the idea. 

After a schedule briefing, Baekhyun recently said he dearly wishes he could eat fried noodles in the early evening because he’s craving something savory, meanwhile flashing a split-second glance at you. Maybe… You can discreetly bridge the gap by getting him food.

You’re part responsible for doing things like that in the company already so nobody will question you driving around with your little motorbike. 

If you think about it: That’s a good excuse to approach him frequently and visit his apartment. The move is calculated, but it’s what the situation requires. You can’t tell how Baekhyun will react, but if he looked at you this way, it’s worth a shot.

And so, you dare the impossible. You show up with a deliberately small portion of noodles after the last comeback stage, knock twice. He does open. You’re frozen up.

Uttering a hopefully neutral „You said you wanted this. I’ll also bring it tomorrow if you want,“ and then drive off again without even waiting for a reply from a very surprised-looking Baekhyun in PJs. 

Sweating like crazy, thank God your helmet and the upcoming dark of the night was hiding your red cheeks. Shit man, that was robotic as fuck! is what you’re thinking for the entire ride home. Another fail, you sure won’t return tomorrow. Now you can’t look him in the eye, either.

Meanwhile: 

The meal not only saves the day of Baekhyun’s usually very lackluster diet mood that comes out when he is by himself. It also makes him flustered and grateful, curling up on his couch. He couldn’t even remotely try to say no out of politeness or concerns for his food plan. Baekhyun breaks the chopsticks right away after closing the door. Today, his dog’s with him. Mongryong excitedly jumps up and down next to Baekhyun. Your visit was short and sweet, but it made two beans very happy.

In fact, he rips open the box and shoves a quarter of the content into his mouth in the blink of an eye. It’s not just how hungry he is. He’s also overwhelmed that you came to his house. He feels like it’d be the highest level of disrespect to throw it away to begin with, no matter how spartan his eating habits are supposed to be. 

He almost views this little take-out box as a part of you. He imagines how you listened to him talk, decided to drop by, bought it with your own money, and carried it all the way to him. All that extra effort and attention he spins back and forth in his head for the whole next week.

And, on the spot, Baekhyun is so taken aback that he starts deep cleaning his apartment at midnight as soon as he finishes his noodles. 

To your own initial shock, he also drops an envelope with money under your office door the next day. And you thought someone was sending threats.

You get the underlying message, though. This is something just between the two of you, and the envelope is a yes. For another meal. Actually, more than that. There are 30 sorted bills in it, each to buy one box since he knows where you get the food from and what the standard price is. 

Payment for one month in advance. Meetings for one month in advance. This fucker. 

And you thought your sweaty scene at his apartment left him confused or weirded out. Nope, he decided he wants this times thirty. Something you have to let sink in.

The next day you drive along at the same time, there’s nobody there. 

Because Baekhyun has left the door open. Now you can’t just speed away again. Nor do you really want to, for God’s sake. 

After putting your helmet down in the small entrance room, you find an anxiously waiting Baekhyun on the extremely cleaned up living room couch, sitting there with fidgeting feet like it’s a porn casting. 

The tension could kill. You put the box on the table before him like it’s England’s Crown Jewels. You want to calm him down so desperately, but don’t know how.

Given his sparkly eyes set on the food, that he wants to devour what you brought him right away is not hard to overlook. But he still seems hesitant. Insecure. Baekhyun doesn’t manage to say a full word which is the most surreal thing. You work up your voice and pass him the chopsticks in their paper packaging. „Pig out. You didn’t eat since 7AM.“

Again, he breaks the chopsticks. Trying hard not to do it too fast.

You sit opposite to him and revert back to professional mode. Talking about statistics from the comeback that Baekhyun hummingly acknowledges the way he does when you talk to EXO in meetings. 

He stuffs himself like his life depends on it. No stable eye contact from him. 

Both of you know that it’s not what you want to say. But even ten minutes in: Nothing about the cafeteria, the fries, the envelope, the topless incident, the forehead patch, nothing. Just you going on about details from work and him listening, nodding, chewing, making brief little remarks and using all his standard corporate phrases. „Ah, yes, EXO surely benefits from that.“ But it’s a start. You begin small. 

So far, so good. With every evening, the conversation becomes more and more two-sided and the meals bigger. A second envelope soon enters your office, covering the extra costs for the XXL boxes, your fuel, and another month worth of meals. Note: Only one and a half weeks in. 

Fuck, you got yourself into something big. Is it because his dog likes you?

You are starting to like babying him like that, even if you both keep it serious. Unusually so, but at least you don’t get into any more accidents with that suspense off your either shoulders. 

It’s not like that cute little face would leave you any chance in the first place. Baekhyun smiles shyly around you. His big laugh is sweeping, but the small things… lethal. Absolutely lethal.

His manager doesn’t like it, but his genius idol’s mochi factor is increasing since you bring him spicy, richer foods. Baekhyun declines most snacks he’s offered at work, hardly eats up at the cafeteria and gives it to Foodcas Xuxi instead, and even the stylists wished he would gain more weight without any results in their convincing acts. But when you bring him a large portion of extra al dente spaghetti or — as of recently — self-made black bean noodles, Baekhyun would consider it rude not to follow the call of the carbs. 

Interesting.

He eats even more aggressively when he knows you made the food yourself. 

Quickly enough, he pays either for take-out or ingredients meant for not one, but two people. You usually eat a little earlier than he does, but you would not trade the best luxury meal in the world eaten by yourself with being together in Baekhyun’s flat. To the average Joe, this would be the biggest hassle, but to you… there’s no way you can get enough of being around him so privately. You enjoy taking the time to buy food for him. Taking the time in general.

You’re not the only one.

I don’t have to tell you how Baekhyun has to fight getting a vicious hard-on with sitting opposite to you with your motorcycling jacket peeled down to the hip, right inside a staring-not staring-staring-not staring match while you both slurp on your noodle soup pretending to be apprentice and idol.

It’s… bizarre. And hot. And bizarre. And frustrating.

You both don’t know where to take all of this. You end up making it a rock-solid daily routine, but not going any further than that because you are afraid. The excuse: Never change a running system.

In the meantime, Baekhyun works out even more. Not to compensate for the calories or to get rid of the increasingly chubby cheeks. Nope, it’s to impress you and show his fitness, plain and simple. At times, the music once again blasts in the practice room after everyone left. You come in to clear the room with Baekhyun in one of his very tight tank tops. 

You greet each other softly smiling. The familiarity really does begin to show. While you sort and organize, he writes you a little note on what to get for food tonight. He scribbles a little „:3“ emoji underneath. 

You think about that for at least two hours before you drive to his apartment.

So, yeah. Something is going on with him regardless of both of you trying to keep your routine stable and CIA-level secret. 

He finds himself cringeworthy when he carries seven stacked up chairs to a group meeting at once just because you’re attending. But something in him can’t help it, for the love of God. At least in this regard, he thinks, something is running on autopilot in terms of flirting methods. Meaning, he really does hide less and less. 

Meanwhile, Lucas’ eyes are falling out because Baekhyun is mustering new levels of strength nobody suspected he had. In the most random situations, even. Baekhyun’s fitness trainer is also living one hell of a life because his protégée is so eager these days. Mastering everything from weights to pilates. Hormones are one hell of a drug.

Kai frequently remarks that Baekhyun is different. „He’s nagging much less, what’s going on, why, why!“ he says to Taemin on the regular, and they invent all kinds of theories.

Since Baekhyun doesn’t want to miss out on your daily evening visit nor spend 8 hours in the gym, that means: He increases the intensity of the work-outs. For two and a half weeks, he is completely knocked out afterwards.

And so… it happens.

Baekhyun falls asleep before your visit. The door he has opened beforehand as always, but you enter a dim room with dozing Baekhyun splayed on the bed in his red carpet outfit from earlier that day. He worked out in the morning, did some hosting, talked his soul out in an interview, attended an award show, drove home, and eventually collapsed in the sheets. Lights out.

You put the rice box and cake slice you brought along on his desk. He looks so cute when he dozes, but you also hate disturbing his sleepy angel hours. Especially because you know how worn-out his schedule has left him and you feel sorry for it. 

You feel weird for standing there with your take-out and want to hurry outside as fast as possible, but leave a note. 

For the first time in weeks, you eat dinner in your own flat.

After forcefully waking up at 3AM due to his usual sleep cycle being off balance, Baekhyun falls into a spiral of regrets. Once it dawns on him what time it is and he must have missed your visit, he buries his face in his palms sitting at the edge of the bed. 

He resents himself for neither cleaning up his bedroom properly nor staying awake even more so, no matter how eventful his day was. He imagines how you must have seen him sleep, probably in the most humiliating, unflattering position and with terrible hair, judging him for being rude, forgetful, unattractive, messy, and probably a thousand other things.

Until… he finds the note. That one gives him a second almost-heart attack, but an adrenaline-fueled one this time. He stumbles back onto his bed and reads it twenty times over.

„Rest well and dig in. Don’t worry. Text if you’re okay. 03304 68010113.“

After three typos in your number, almost choking on cold rice because he eats so passionately, and several minutes of going back and forth on sending something, he kicks his own ass and writes a little „I’m ok, I’m very very sorry! I’m an idiot 😭“. After you reply that he has no reason to apologize, he rambles on about how he wishes that he’s not being an inconvenience to you with a whole row of sad and dejected emojis. 

You hate that Baekhyun feels put on the spot and obliged because of you this way and try to think hard about how to solve the dilemma. You won’t try to stop the rain of his apologies by telling him to calm down because you know it’ll make it worse, and instead decide it’s time to get going.

The opportunity is now, and there’s only one.

‚So, I have an idea—“

Going to the groovy little underground pizza restaurant downtown is something that Baekhyun immediately accepts as a suggestion. He wants to compensate for his dozing, but he also knows that this is a whopping chance more than anything.

And… a covert first date. 

He knows that’s what it is. It’s about leveling up now.

Before you can write that you’ll treat him and he can relax, he gets firm with insisting that you will pay not a single dime. You know that it’s not just his overworking conscience speaking. It’s also the only way Baekhyun gets an occasion to express that he takes this very seriously via text. 

That he wants to repay you and aims to get the most out of meeting up is something you realize when he steps out of the wardrobe room the next evening after everyone in the company has gone home. 

The stylists he has told that he needs to try this particular outfit on for some time to get used to it. „I need to dance in this, so.“

Actually, it is meant for EXO performing at the Oscars next week, but he got away with the excuse and a promise to take care. 

And… he really did the rest of the styling all by himself. He’s turned into a glamorous neat freak. Every shiny hair glued into its desired place, freshly dyed honey blonde with soft brunette roots. 

In fact, who walks at you is a wholly different Baekhyun in a dark, reddish-violet satin suit, pointy black shoes, matte black tie, mature sultry eye shadow, black square sunglasses pushed up into his hair, his signature lipstick, with a distinct statement tote bag, and black lace socks. I repeat: Lace. This is the fanciest anybody has ever headed to eat $6.50 pizza at a tube station. I mean wow, just wow. The tailored shoulders and how tight the tux cinches in at the waist is on par with Kai’s Obsession crop top. 

Even the much more expensive award show outfit from last week looks like a potato sack compared to how much he dolled himself up and reinvented literally every inch about himself. Like you have to prevent yourself from drooling.

Yep. He. Means. Business.

Funnily enough, Baekhyun realizes his zeal and just how much he is trying to impress you at all costs when you turn up with your standard khaki trench coat, bunny print umbrella, and casual white sneakers that have seen World War 1 and 2. You know, just the way you always come to his apartment and the way it’s inconspicuous. 

Going by his face… he starts to overthink his esteem. You can see how his expression becomes mortified. You promptly decide to put an end to his self-conscious back and forth through taking him by the hand. 

„You’re the best-looking man in the world and I’m asking you for a date. Are you comin’ or are you not?“

You then make it particularly clear to him that if anything, this right in front of you is very much authentic Baekhyun and not someone else you’re in for after all. And, that you’re both in your genuine form tonight the way it’s gotta be, the way you know each other and the reason why you decided to do this. Boom.

Four-step Greek style sermon for tonight: Delivered.

Now he’s gaping at you too much to beat himself up. That mission is very much accomplished. Modern problems apparently require ancient rhetoric. You’re in a kick-ass mood tonight. I dunno, anybody would be, Baekhyun’s accentuated sense of style has the historic potential to make girls reckless.

Baekhyun’s hand is heated like an Icelandic geyser and his heartbeat rate would make the average rabbit look like an amateur. Believe it or not — it’s the first time you’re deliberately touching. It’s ridiculous.

You head to the company garage, he churns out five jokes in a row on how he must look like a Korean Elton John on the way to his best-of concert, you laugh… Baekhyun feels better. Three times as nervous compared to when you usually come to his flat, but better nevertheless. And he drives, so. 

He feels like he’s catching up and giving something back, no matter that you feel he doesn’t have to, but to him, it’s important. 

You joke back to him how it’s a little bit funny — Elton John pun intended — that you saw every inch of Baekhyun’s apartment at this point already but this is the first date. The world is upside down, but it’s SM Entertainment, so. Things get started in different ways, but they do.

That realization is getting to him, too. Baekhyun’s peacock alter ego emerges to bolt over the motorway like a lovedrunk Lewis Hamilton with a foot glued to the gas pedal, but also checks fifty times for how you feel in the passenger seat. Asking about how you like it, if the A/C is set to how you want it, whether your seat is tilted the way you enjoy it. Damn, he really is on edge. 

On top of that, said alter ego maneuvers him right into a 3-kilometer outer ring traffic jam before his innocent self even realizes it. More time to chat… more time to sit so close… more time you get to savor the comfort of his luxurious car. So that was a Freudian slip with a steering wheel right there.

You already know that Baekhyun has never tried as hard to make somebody like him. You compliment his taste in cars vice versa to take that pressure off before he turns into a nervous wreck entirely. And then, also adding that you could get used to this which makes Baekhyun feel like a billion Won. His eyes are downcast, his cheeks are beaming. Figures, light superpowers and such, we know the deal.

Meanwhile, that you really like him already and for a long time is something you challenge yourself to make more than apparent to him. If he’s still this desperate about pleasing you and unsure about how he comes across, there’s some work to do. This guy needs a sign. A football field-sized one. If Baekhyun’s demon is his self-worth tonight, yours is being a lot more demonstrative. You’ve been far too indirect with him all day every day.

That you’re outside of both your professional spheres actually helps: Big fucking time.

Easing him into a conversation happens surprisingly smooth when you recount visiting his apartment and seeing him sleep so beautifully. Which you say was the most gratifying thing which is the truth. It’s been on his mind, hearing about your relief makes a lot of things plague him less. 

You also add how you enjoy bringing him food just because. That he’s nice and good company, even when he sleeps. That assures Baekhyun and makes him laugh.

And yes. He ends up serenading you throughout the entire traffic jam. And yes. When Baekhyun is in love, his singing is particularly on point. You can hear the cherry on top in his registers. No need for the stereo, you can ask him to sing any song you like. 

The traffic jam disperses after 20 minutes, Baekhyun has interpreted your entire favorite playlist at this point. Arriving feels like way too soon. 

You put your trench coat over Baekhyun while he exits the car. There’s hardly anyone around in this part of the town but who knows, making sure not to mess up his hair in the process. Both of you hurry to the stairs leading underground. Meanwhile, the car is parked quite stealthily behind a closed-down fish restaurant with dusty windows.

It feels good to walk around with Baekhyun right by your side. 

The surroundings are cluttered with trash and only few people wait at the tube station that opens up before you with every step downwards. It’s actually perfect as a getaway. There are mostly older businessmen on shift at first glance. 

It’s colder out in the open and surrounded by surfaces of concrete, the car was like a spa by comparison. Baekhyun takes the initiative to put the trench coat back onto your shoulders. You feel flattered and you smile at each other, and walk on with synchronized steps. The pizza bar is almost within sight. In the meantime, the digital board announces the tube arriving in five minutes. He takes your hand.

And then… some real bullshit goes down.

A group of seven scraggly-looking teens lounge on a bench, roughly 200 meters before the pizza bistro. You have to pass the bench close-by given how narrow the walking space next to the train tracks is. 

One of them, the tallest of the bunch, coarsely shouts at you. „How much did that prostitute cost and where does he keep his money, huh?“ He sticks his wriggling tongue out right along. The others are ogling Baekhyun’s shoes and chest pockets, preying and laughing and sneering. It dawns on you that you should’ve asked for one more song in the car.

The mood tips. One of the boys sitting on the left side of the bench starts fiddling with a 3-inch switchblade. And then, something flicks the switch inside you, too. Your Kyoong-protect-o-meter goes through the roof faster than Baekhyun can get his car to the speed limit. 

Cue She-Hulk transformation. In an onslaught of your inner wrestling diva claiming her rights, you take matters into your own hands by hurling Baekhyun’s glitzy designer bag at the guy’s surprised face. Sorry Versace, it had to be done. The whole group gasps out loud. While they’re still caught off guard, you go on to lunge forward and furiously whack greasy knife guy and two other approaching attackers with your Roger fucking Rabbit umbrella using a windmill-motion martial arts technique you came up with from scratch. Baekhyun doesn’t even have to duck… being smol has its advantages. 

The switchblade is sent flying into a bin. Point landing. You proceed to rip into the group to helicopter your improvised weapon in circles until it threatens to plow down the better of them and they back away squealing and pleading. Britney would be so damn proud of you, I’m telling ya.

Needless to say, the mortally terrified group runs and disperses into the arriving tube, probably booking their therapist appointments for Monday morning already. You pick up the bag for Baekhyun a little breathless, dust it off, and say a prayer. Holy shit. 

What the hell just happened. Literally, what the fucking fuck.

An entirely wide-eyed Baekhyun still can’t believe that a whole group of sleazy guys twice as tall as him took an unhinged windmill beating by you to prevent a robbery, and meanwhile he is the martial arts champion. Like, hello? He’s been a Hapkido instructor with several gold medals. How many black belts does the guy have again? He could mow down fifty of that kind and pulverize anyone of them with a mere NCT-style kick. This is ridiculous. He’s mighty impressed.

A few businessmen at the station are looking at you from afar with open mouths. You wave and give a thumbs up signalling all is okay. The security personnel reviewing the CCTV the next day is down for a ride. You hope that there are no headlines with pictures of this. Tube brats get their ass busted by cartoon bunny at 2:15 AM. K-Pop star Baekhyun defended by mysterious umbrella wielder gone wild.

You take a deep breath, brush off your coat. „Um. Moving on I guess.“ Then, interlink arms with Baekhyun, strolling on toward the restaurant. Looking around everywhere, still a little shocked. Walking off your relief helps, as is looking forward to eating. Damn, you do outrageous things when you’re hungry.

The restaurant is the size of the practice room at best, lit with white neon and decorated with Italian flags in every corner. The empty seats are designed like in an American diner from the 80s.

The lanky six-foot-something waiter, Luigi Roberto Maranello Salvatore (his nameplate is really in-depth about this), hurries to the door when he sees how Baekhyun is dressed and probably thinks the King of Korea just arrived. Which he, in fact, did, but that’s beside the point. 

You sit at the very back and get comfortable after breaking your last sweat. An enthusiastic Luigi presents to you the latest ‚delicious couple menu options’ and promises to use the best toppings he can offer. You instantly trust him, Luigi has the most accurate mustache you’ve ever seen.

Baekhyun and you share a huge plate of the curiously named ‚Pizza Puppy Love‘  that might be better described as a circle-shaped late night gala buffet. You dig in because damn, fighting thugs makes hungry, and Baekhyun stuffs himself given how it’s his favorite meal. Luigi sees that you are avid eaters and way too busy looking at each other, so he disappears in the kitchen, proud of setting the mood just perfectly.

In the meantime, Baekhyun says that he thinks of hiring you as a sasaeng protection machine. You muse how the umbrella is sturdier than you thought and you wouldn’t hesitate to use it again now that you think about it. Being Baekhyun’s Jarvis is not a bad thought, actually. Beating up rascals for him is your newly discovered love language.

In fact: Whatever took over inside of you and made you lose your chill, Baekhyun is mighty curious about. He thinks that was very sexy. You get the feeling that this guy could like dangerous women. He might have picked that up from Taemin, credits to him.

After Baekhyun has dramatically recounted the umbrella incident at least five times, the conversation goes on about your embarrassing hiding stories, how hilariously over- and underdressed you are as a unit, and you teasing him about „speeding on the highway, are we“. Baekhyun teases you back about how you acted like his manager with your trench coat over his head. He kind of has a point and you call it a tie.

Seeing Baekhyun all full with his beloved pizza and acting so carefree in his Oscar suit is a cute sight. You take the liberty to cut a particularly large slice out of the puppy pizza UFO and feed him. 

If it’s a couple menu, you gotta act like it.

Baekhyun is making some mighty heart eyes at you, and so — you decide to take it a little further. This whole fight thing made you forget you’re on a goddamn date after… a whole year of eyefucking and that it’s about time to close the gap.

Luigi is wholly busy making order in the kitchen and Baekhyun has some tomato sauce stuck at the side of his mouth. Convenient. You take the chance to wipe it off with the tip of your right digit. 

He realizes what you’re doing and promptly grabs your hand to keep it right where it is. Uh-oh. His tongue darts out, he licks right across your finger. To top it off, he starts to suck it, too. With a typical nonchalance. Seeing how you almost combust, he takes another finger into his hot mouth. And sucks a little more. His lipstick smudges onto your hand. His eyes are like hot coals and the pupils are all blown. Oh my, my, my. 

If you’re just playing, don’t you ever give Baekhyun anything to escalate on like that, ever. The way you were ready to knock down the seven guys, he is ready to get physical once the first step is done. Though, the thing is. You’re not playing. It’s exactly the type of fodder that you’ve been craving to give him. Baekhyun’s oral fixation is something else.

The rest of the pizza is gone in five minutes…

…and Luigi gets the tip of his life.

You walk to the car in much faster steps than before. Even if it’s later than late, nobody is around anymore except a sleeping beggar on the other side of the station. No danger in sight whatsoever. There’s a different reason to get going like that this time and there’s no way you can mentally prepare yourself for what’s coming.

Back to the fish restaurant, back to the car spa. Nobody on the streets, anywhere. This night, Baekhyun does not feel even remotely tired, though.

After you put your umbrella in the trunk — you will honor it much more from now on — the driver’s and passenger’s seat stay empty for half an hour and a little more. Now, the actual stereo is on. There’s a lot to catch up with on the backseat.

Baekhyun puts Delight on repeat, and queues City Lights just because. Guy knows what good music and singing sounds like. You interlock hands and call him pretty. Baekhyun is flustered, but all the more eager. 

It takes barely a minute until you get serious with making out on top of him and grind on his lap like the world ends. The satiny fabric is too tempting not to gyrate all over it in your jeans. Lord knows his legs are great. You know what you signed up for. Those thighs are so delicious to straddle, you can’t even imagine. 

Baekhyun gazes at you so intently and ready, whispering his little you-can-do-anythings and tell-me-all-you-wants, it’s like magic.

To top it off, kissing his little pouty lips has got to be the best thing, running your hands through his sexy hair — even more so. Your mouth and fingers have been begging you to do this. Begging. 

From there, your hands go places. His neatly razored nape of the neck, his waist, the chest. His suit, all that expensive fabric, his gentle skin, it’s so nice to the touch. He smells so hot. Bergamot, cinnamon, and sweet, deep, rich and soothing sandalwood. „Girl, I’m your Candy“ gets a whole new meaning. Practice room memories. As if you aren’t wet enough already. 

By the last minute of the second track, Baekhyun is already hooked kissing your neck and does some very daring acrobatics with his tongue. And you thought the pizza would satiate him. Nope, he eats you up like a whole salad bowl of black bean noodles with three pounds kimchi and ten fried eggs stacked on top. In his own words I mean lyrics: Game over.

The desperation and nervosity adds even more sloppiness and hunger. These have got to be the lewdest slurping and sucking noises you’ve ever heard. You can’t help but curse the ugliest things. Something’s pretty damn hard through the front of his tux already. 

Baekhyun feels that you feel it and the kissing becomes even more frantic. His whole body says: Grind more. Please. Please.

By the time the fourth track starts, Baekhyun’s entirely wet mouth wanders upward. Here goes the French kissing madness. You glide your hips back and forth on his bulge, and his tongue is already winding inside of you like it’s advanced singing lessons. It’s so unreal that you have to grab hold of his upper arms to stay in place. Shit, this guy. 

You can tell that this… is his absolute forte. Nobody can fuck with Baekhyun when it comes to outrageous mouth and throat technique. Your tongue gets a sense of how confident he is in his lip service and works his way into it. Now you know how it feels when Byun Baekhyun pays back your attention. Holy Luigi’s Cannoli, he has so much fun. Way, way too much fun. Like Sir, this is a Wendy’s.

And that’s the last damn straw. Really, the last one. You can’t do this shit anymore. You ask for condoms. 

After freezing up for at least ten seconds, he nods his little head about ten times in a row. It’s as if he can’t actually believe it and didn’t just kiss the shit out of you with the hardest dick in history.

„Okay, I’ll—“

Baekhyun keeps them in a yellow puppy-shaped bag under the driver’s seat and takes three torturous minutes to get them from there since it’s underneath and behind other random things. Which means you get to look at his ass for said time because he is bent forward between the two front seats. It’s not like you’ve never seen Baekhyun from behind, but never this close nor in a suit as tight since he usually wears baggy things. So. He’s not just big in the front, then. For his build? That is Korea’s ass.

And the condoms? You expected they were in his tote or his suit within one reach and rip. Nope, Baekhyun did not leave the company building with intentions. He’s been managing this raging boner for a whole year and did not make any moves on you in his apartment where he could have had you on any available surface in two minutes. Baekhyun wasn’t close to even remotely ask for literally anything. He just sat there on the couch with restless legs, ruffled hair, and an open mouth while hearing you talk. You don’t want to imagine how intensely he must have gotten off. Which he, in fact, did. 

He didn’t deliberately plan sex in a specific place for the first date either. Instead, he was prepared for— what exactly? A slight eventuality? Now that you think about it: Going by how he dressed himself, what Baekhyun probably thought he could get out of this was: A compliment. Even if all of your evening visits were nothing but hardcore sexual tension and this was the chance to bring that to an end. Let that sink in.

This guy’s self-control is not only astronomical, but also completely astounding given his usual character. In fact, you thought he would be entirely sovereign with this. How could he not? He’s Baekhyun!

Going by all that… You conclude that Baekhyun must really feel like he does not deserve you. His shame and self-denial must go through the roof. Given how his deeper insecurities have been in plain sight, it actually makes sense. Looks like you’re the one bringing them out, whatever it is that you do. It’s pretty tough knowing that you rouse something as vulnerable in him but it’s as good as it is bad. You find him very brave and incredible for letting it show. Honestly? It’s better than pushing through all of this pretending.

Plus — You really must have given him the impression that he can look but not ever touch. While that’s the entire opposite of what you want. 

To be fair: Having Baekhyun openly touch you in the company would have been a dangerous act. Even more so than say, you touching him, (which would have been somewhat possible, look at stylists and managers casually or work-relatedly doing skinship). Because that means that the availability his profession suggests to the world is no longer a thing and his mind is set on one person. Which, in his field, is social death. 

That’s why Baekhyun could only ever touch you by virtue of circumstances and whatever higher forces arranging accidents where he bumped into you. Talk about indirect ways. The universe gave you what you wanted, but in a way where there was always the excuse of bad luck and no possibility of other people finding out about your feelings. Risky love breeds risky circumstances.

The same with showing his body or knocking at your door to get your attention. He knows he can’t do that, can’t ask for it. So what happens? You accidentally walk in on him, or he crashes against your office entrance after slipping.

The same with treating you, spending time together, getting taken care of by you. Baekhyun found himself wishing for it. So it happened that you spilled your fries and he bought them for you all over, and he was begging for fried noodles so the opportunity to meet surprisingly came about. The accidents themselves both of you didn’t want nor deliberately stage, but you very much wanted the results of them. Directly you could not express your feelings, not even Baekhyun. That’s how it all came to be and now you see just how much he wants to be close to you in so many ways.

That he feels ashamed and undeserving — that shocks the living hell out of you. 

So, all right then, keeper. Time to show you otherwise. 

It’s crazy how he thinks you’re the one off limits and not him. Then again, he’s not the guy with the savage umbrella technique.

Since his hand is too shaky, you slip one on him and start to ride him without any further ado. You’re already leaking so what’s left to fiddle around about. No wasting any time here. 

The deal is as good as sealed. He feels fucking great inside of you and his wide eyes are the most rewarding thing. Whatever dimension Baekhyun just broke through, the level of whipped is not possible to be described with any human words. His hands are roaming over you pretty much without aim, you can tell your body is too much for him.

After he’s begging you to do it roughly, you grab him by the collar and fuck his soul out until he’s all gasping because his dick hurts. The song’s called Are You Ridin’ with good reason.

Baekhyun’s brains are long screwed out at this point, if not reduced to absolute green and purple jello. Is there actually any mind to lose at this point after you had your fingers in his mouth? Like literally, his favorite thing? Probably not. 

He bites down into his sleeve. Baekhyun is all knocked out by you by the time you get to your second orgasm, and reclines on the backseat bench to starfish the rest of the thing with his mouth hanging open at you. Hormone overload. His entire body shut down except the will to keep it up and not come. Yum, he is fit. Where he takes that godly strength from, only higher powers can tell. The Tree of Life, Zeus, Ten Chittaphon, I don’t know. 

He just has the kind of dick you can really bounce on. Really. Fucking. Hard. You are one spark of insanity close to run on autopilot. I don’t think anybody’s growled like this on him before. Nor was Baekhyun’s cock this close to falling right off, ever. 

This is not sex, it’s a crazy as fuck pounding, with Baekhyun on the verge of being blacked out with drool on his chin and his eyes rolling back. His fingers are absentmindedly trailing down your upper back and all he can utter is a small, yearning „please, please“ and gritting „don’t stop, please don’t stop…“ between his teeth. And hell, you have not a single reason to. Cue Captain America, I can do this all day.

When other people say smashing, whatever they’re referring to is not as smash as this. This must be the dirtiest, wettest slapping noise you’ve ever heard, and Baekhyun’s entirely uncontrolled moans will be forever etched into your memory. So melodic, so goddamn excited and desperate and all fucked out. He’s groaning so well, it’s like it’s meant for you.

By the third time you come, he’s crying and whining and has to cover his mouth not to scream out loud. You have no idea what your body is doing, but whatever it is, it’s taking Baekhyun out. Even you tire after some time, but you keep going. You imagine that every thrust is the meal and attention you wanna give to him.

That’s a lot of fucking and edging you get done in half an hour. Baekhyun’s tongue is hanging out afterwards and you went through a whopping three condoms. So much frustration finally released. Baekhyun’s gonna be emptier than Suho’s wallet after Sehun ordered a lifetime supply of bubble tea. 

You squarely avoid oozing your own cum onto his backseat with one hand. Good lord that creampie would ruin everything if he didn’t wear a condom. You’ve come a long way since colliding in the cafeteria, not gonna lie.

And thank God you’re not fucking somewhere in the company and the Audi is close to soundproof because this guy is LOUD. You need some good eardrums to handle these moans. Unhinged is an understatement. If this becomes a contest outwhoring each other, he’d win by a landslide. 

By the time you slip off, Baekhyun is on the verge to the dreamland, you milked every last drop out of him. Which means… 

…you get to drive an expensive as fuck Audi through Seoul. Your beatdown with the tube thugs you try to refrain from boasting about, but this one you are tempted to brag about to yourself for the next week. Well, in your mind. Just a little bit. It’s a great car. And you feel giddy in your body all over. That’s what sex with Baekhyun does to you. 

Seoul traffic is tame around this time. Half in his sleep, Baekhyun hums and sings on the driver’s seat. He’s all sober, but you made the guy act a lil’ drunk, huh. In his element, he talks and talks and talks and talks a little more. Then, does his tiny 'ㅅ' pup face and dozes for half the ride. Sleeping angel hours.

You can’t really scold him for passing out so fast in the slightest. As always, he went who knows how many extra miles just for you. That includes vowing to hand-wash his Oscars suit because it’s fucking ruined. Since the stylists are guaranteed to flame him, you send the fashion department a message how Baekhyun has to wear a different suit because he’s simply too dummy thick for this one, especially as far as the pants are concerned. Which is almost no lie and they will believe you. 

Much like his name suggests, Baekhyun does go hundred. At his apartment, you basically have to carry him into the bedroom. He says he doesn’t want to sleep. But you won’t kiss him goodnight after you pull off your jacket without a strong word on how his health has to be priority. He gets the point when you say you wouldn’t have had a first date without Baekhyun dozing off before your evening visit.

Sweet baby Jesus, you’d still be awkwardly slurping noodles without Baekhyun’s faux pas. If you look back at it: It’s all a story of accidents that turn out beautiful.

Sleep being Baekhyun’s reset button, that’s the best thing to do in order to give the night a good conclusion. Being alone in his apartment together, you don’t have to discreet about sleeping next to him after setting the alarm clock.

Mark Lee’s piping hot Americano is the culprit for all of this, but you thank him.

----

© 2017-2021 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed.

[macbetha]

below the cut, you'll find an interest check chapter for quatervois, a nancy drew pc fic. it's francy and also my idea of my absolute dream game. please let me know what you think and enjoy!

+++

After Ned breaks up with her and she loses her father, Nancy struggles to find her old vigor for detective work. While on vacation in London with Bess and George, Nancy accepts the urgent invitation to return Blackmoor Manor. Her English getaway quickly turns into an investigation once Nancy realizes the true reason Nigel Mookergee asked her back to the moors. Finding Deirdre Shannon at the manor under the same pretense only sets Nancy’s nerves further on edge. It isn’t until the Hardy Boys show up in Blackmoor that Nancy gets a glimpse of who she once was. With a manor full of suspects and a glass heart cracked open, Nancy is determined to find the truth.

Dear Ned,

How are you? It’s been a while. I’ve always started off my letters telling you about my latest case, but I’m not on one right now. I’m sure that’s hard to believe. Bess and George have whisked me away to London. I’m sure you would love it here. This is the first time I’ve seen Bess and George since I sold the house in River Heights. I stayed with Kyler and Matt in Ireland for a while. I needed a change of scenery. Their daughter just turned two. I’m somewhat jealous I’m happy for them. Anyways, I miss you I hope you’re doing well. I’m sure New York is lovely at Christmas time. I hope Stephanie is I wish Stephanie well How is Stephanie? I hope Stephanie is doing all right. I appreciated the card Stephanie sent when dad passed away. Warm regards, Merry Christmas, Love Nancy

She stares down at the letter as if the red ink were her own blood. It feels just as wounding, seeing her emotions made physical in the words on the paper. Only when a tear splatters on the page does she break free from her trance to the past. Nancy is the only person in her hotel suite, yet she works to rid the evidence like one of her own suspects. She pulls her feet up in the desk chair and crosses her ankles, holding the arch of her right foot – it recently became the victim of her latest culprit. Nancy’s foot got caught under the getaway car’s tire, and she is lucky to even be able to walk after the event. Months later, it’s stiff as hell with the most intense cramps she’s ever endured. Heart racing to forget the night it happened, she focuses on the snowfall out the window – counting little sparkles of snowflakes, though the world blurs when she squints. The doctor thought her failing sight as well as the daily headaches were on account of being hit in the head so many times.

She busies herself with choosing a postcard to send Hannah and Nancy selects one with a cat dressed up as a royal guard. The cuteness puts a smile on her face, however small – she hopes it’ll do the same for Hannah, but there is no telling. Nancy had the gut-feeling Hannah was lying about recognizing her the last time Nancy visited the nursing home. Torment swirls like wind to fallen leaves. She doesn’t have Hannah or Togo to come home to. Togo passed just before Nancy’s thirty-second birthday, and Carson fell ill soon after that. Nancy looks to her hotel bed where Mr. Woogle Woggle sits tucked between two pillows. It seems he is the only one that hasn’t left her. A knock on her hotel door reminds her that is simply not true. Nancy rights herself, fixing her posture to the stance of someone passionate, and she opens the door. Bess and George greet her with blazing smiles; Nancy gives silent thanks for their presence in her life. She would still be in Scotland with Kyler and Matt, had Bess and George not insisted to take her on a vacation. Nancy imagines that their insistence was due to them wanting to keep Nancy from spending Christmas alone on the road again like last year. “Nancy,” Bess stresses. “You’re never going to guess who we ran into in the lobby!” Horror strikes dull and loud in her ears. Surely, it’s not Ned. Please, don’t let it be Ned. George says, “Give you a hint: they were involved in one of your cases.” Nancy’s despair leaves her throat tight. She glances down the hallway, preparing to yank Bess and George into her room and dial her Cathedral contact to get them set up in witness protection.

“That didn’t narrow it down at all, George,” Bess says with a roll of her eyes. “Nancy’s been on hundreds of cases.” Nancy’s strain creeps into her one word: “Who?” Bess and George beam. “Maya Nguyn!” ++

Nancy follows Bess and George to the elevator in a hurried stupor. No thoughts can she conjure as she steps free from the elevator walls which seem to close in on her; Nancy marches into the lobby and notices a woman in the crowd of tourists. She stands with her back to Nancy, her hair drawn up in a bun, and her chin is lifted high with no time for games. Maya turns around and her bright red mouth stretches into a smile. “Nancy!” “Maya,” Nancy huffs in disbelief. She tenses in Maya’s sudden embrace before all but falling into it. This is something good I did; Nancy cherishes with shut eyes. This is someone I helped. When Maya pulls back, Nancy says, “What are you doing all the way out here? You said in your last letter, you were still in Washington.” “My house is technically there,” Maya nods. “But I get to work on the road more these days.” Her brows crease over a sympathetic smile. “Bess and George tell me you’re kind of in the same boat.” Nancy shrugs, struggling to hold Maya’s concerned gaze. “It’s just easier,” Nancy lies. Maya seems to see right through it, but she doesn’t speak on it. Nancy will have to thank her later. George says, “Maya offered us free tickets to a play she’s reviewing tonight and get this – it’s at the Globe Theater!” “Remind me what’s so special about a globe theater,” Bess sighs, checking her nails. “Not ‘a’, Bess, the.” George shakes her head. “The Globe Theater – well, technically it’s a reconstruction of the first one, but it’s where Shakespeare wrote his plays.” “It’s the opening night of a new play,” Maya explains. “And Nancy, you’ll never guess who the star is.” Nancy cannot take anymore guessing games. “Brady Armstrong.” Maya blinks. “Well – yes, actually.” Nancy frowns. “Wait, really?” “Yes,” Maya laughs. “I’ll be conducting an interview with him after the show if you want to go backstage and chew him out for all the stunts he pulled back in the day.” A spark of vigor heightens Nancy’s senses. That doesn’t sound bad at all. Still – “Are you sure we won’t be a distraction or –” “Nancy.” Maya’s hand falls on her shoulder. “You saved my life. You’re the furthest thing from a distraction.” Gratitude floods her before Nancy nods. “All right, then.” +++ The walk to the Globe would be depressive what with the sky being the color of a soaked napkin, but the Christmas decorations lift everyone’s spirits. Nancy limps by a shop playing Christmas oldies through the open door and she is borne back to her father listening to records over cocoa on Christmas morning. She tries to push the memory from her mind, then she thinks of building snowmen with Ned and having snowball fights that turned into the sweetest kisses she’s ever received. The music won’t stop. There are three Christmas trees in the display window and their flashing lights strike pain behind Nancy’s eyes. She pants through a sensory overload before someone squeezes her hand. Maya smiles in understanding as Bess and George walk obliviously in front of them. “It’s hard,” Maya says. “This life on the road. You pick up a few habits.” Nancy squeezes her hand in thanks before tucking her own in her peacoat’s pocket. “I want to enjoy this,” she admits quietly. “But I think the holidays are always hard.” Maya nods. “It won’t be this way forever, Nancy,” she promises. “I’ve got my fingers crossed for you.” Cross your fingers, there’s a story behind this door! Nancy swallows around the lump of panic in her throat. She plasters on a smile. +++ The theater is packed with noise and touching and all-around boisterous patrons. They find their seats in the crowd and Nancy doesn’t watch where she’s going – she must keep her eyes on the open ceiling to remember how to breathe. She sits down at the end of the group and Maya passes out programs. Quatervois, the title reads. Bess says, “What does that mean?” “It means you’re at a crossroads,” Maya says. “A turning point.” “Sounds a little dramatic,” George grumbles. Nancy traces the swooping lines of the title with

her thumb, repeating the process until the lights go down. The masked chorus emerges from the shadows and gives a synopsis: Down from Olympus a great hero emerges, Mighty in his strength and courage! A choice he must make Shall he ignore fate? Will he choose love, Or follow his destiny there-of? When Brady saunters on stage in an impossibly short silk chiton, it’s an out-of-body experience for Nancy. He still hasn’t grown his ponytail back, so Simone could very well be in the audience right now. Nancy rubs her aching temple at the thought. Brady begins his journey as the character Diogenes, a demigod that was supposedly – according to the play’s plot – written out of ancient Greek mythos. Diogenes must defeat those who want to leave him forgotten in history, lest he admit that he can’t win this fight and live his life like everyone else. Nancy assumes the play’s ending too soon. She imagines this will be a droll experience written only to paint Brady as a glorious hero that can conquer anything – but she is quickly surprised. Brady is stabbed in the final act and addresses the audience in a wail: And so my story ends a breath too early, No time to even be weary! The moon shall pass over my corpse, And the sun will beat down on my ashes with no remorse. Today, I have failed my quartervois Alone, forgotten, and lost. When the curtain falls, Nancy’s mouth is parted in disbelief as a tear burns down her cheek. They don’t receive a proper goodbye with Maya since the rest of the crowd is bustling toward the exit. She does have time to say that Brady is producing a new television series and will be scouting some locations further into Essex; Maya will be following the film crew there for test shoots. She embraces each girl individually and holds Nancy for a beat longer, whispering, “You’ll call if you need to talk?” “Of course,” Nancy says by impulse. “Same to you.” +++ Nancy is proud of herself for going out, but when she closes the door to her hotel suite, her back thunks against the wall and she must take deep breaths for several minutes. She decides to treat herself to a bubble bath even though it’s nearly midnight. She rolls her hair up into a bun and looks at it in the mirror, how haphazard and messy hers is in comparison to Maya. Nancy isn’t jealous – but she can’t help but notice when people are thriving. She wants to figure out how to do it herself and hasn’t found the cure yet. The bath is claw-footed and deep. Nancy sinks into the steaming water before goosebumps rise on her arms, and her freckled skin blushes in the heat. The water does wonders for her foot. She eases her head back on the lip of the tub and nears a light doze when her cell phone rings. It rests atop a stack of towels by the tub. Nancy wipes her damp hand off before looking to the screen. Frank Hardy. Nancy answers and taps the speaker button to relax back in the tub. “Hey.” “Hi, Nance,” Frank says, his voice a familiar balm after such a stressful time. “What’s going on?” “Things aren’t too different from last week’s call,” Nancy smiles. “But I’m on vacation with Bess and George.” “Oh wow! That’s awesome. I hope it’s been fun.” Nancy’s glazed eyes blink. “Yeah,” she rasps. “It’s nice.” She clears her throat, searching for her old enthusiasm. “But what about you? How’s Joe?” “Same as usual, a pain in my ass.” Nancy chuckles before a distinctive lift raises Frank’s voice. “We’re actually getting ready to get on a plane for a case – but I wanted to make sure everything’s good with you.” Nancy’s hand closes in a fist on her raised knee. “Gosh, it’s been so long since I’ve been on a case.” “Not really. You just took a few months off to stay with Kyler, right?” “Yeah, but that’s the longest I’ve ever gone without a case since I started.” “I’d give you ours if I could,” Frank says. “Really not looking forward to such a long plane ride. Oh, they’re calling for our gate – but do you want me call you when I land?” Gratefulness is a warm glow in her heart. “No, that’s okay – but

thank you. Be safe on your trip and tell Joe I said hi.” “Can do.” Frank pauses. “I – tell Bess and George I said hi.” “Can do,” Nancy repeats. She chews her lip. “See you soon?” She feels foolish for saying something when Frank is headed to a case. While the weekly phone calls have kept Nancy sane, it would be even better to see the Hardy Boys. “I’ll make it happen,” Frank promises. “See you, Nance.” After they hang up, Nancy struggles to get out of the tub with her swollen foot. She gets into a pair of sweats and wraps up some ice in a washcloth, then holds it against her foot. Nancy mulls over her conversation with Frank, wondering how much of her poor mood could be due to not solving a mystery. With a deep yawn, she tosses the soaked washcloth in the wastebasket, not able to walk to the bathroom to put it in the sink. She cuddles up to her teddy bear and flicks the lamp off when her phone rocks to life on the nightstand. Bewildered, Nancy turns the lamp back on to look at the screen. The number is unknown; she sees her hand tremble around the phone. She lets the call go to voicemail before the phone vibrates to life once again. Bracing herself, Nancy answers. “Hello?” “Yes, hello – I’m trying to reach a one Nancy Drew?” The voice is British and eerily familiar, like Nancy heard it in a dream. “This is she.” “Splendid! Oh, you wouldn’t believe the trouble I’ve gone to in order to find your number.” “Sorry? Who is this?” “Why, Nigel Mookergee. We met at –” “Blackmoor,” Nancy whispers. “Nigel, hi. What’s going on?” “I’m afraid the manner of my call is not a jovial one,” he says. “How should I explain this? Well, I suppose from the start. You see –” He sighs. “Don’t tell anyone I’m speaking of this, but the Penvellyns have fallen into a bit of… financial trouble.” Nancy says, “’Financial trouble’?” “It’s certainly not my business to spread, but yes. It’s not that they are a poor family by any means, but one diplomat’s salary is not enough to keep up a castle.” Nancy sits up, grabbing a pen and notepad from her bedside table. She jots as Nigel continues. “The Penvellyns began to host historical tours at the manor – much to Mrs. Drake’s dismay, I might add. Jane wishes to expand the business to the paranormal side of things, and I don’t quite agree with the idea myself, but she insists it’s just what the manor needs.” Nancy finishes scrawling and says, “So, you’re working for the Penvellyns now?” “Yes. I’m afraid there’s been some situations – inconsequential events, if you will – that need a glance over.” Nancy arches a brow. “You mean an investigation.” “Ah, such a serious word. I simply want to make sure we are fully prepared to expand the business.” Nancy’s eyes narrow. “Right. When would you need me there?” “As soon as possible -” Nigel catches himself. “I mean, at your earliest convenience.” Nancy glances over her notes, running her hand over the page filled by red ink. She closes her eyes against the sight and says, “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

thank you so much for reading! please let me know what you think and stay safe. and please consider following me here and on twitter! xoxo

[sunset-curve-fantom]

Hollywood Ghost Club- Ghost!Luke and Ghost!Reader

A/N: I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS! THANK YOU FOR ALL THE SUPPORT.

WARNING: SMUT, 18+ MATERIAL

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

You and Luke were one of the greatest love stories, you were his muse in everything he did. In life and in death, you were the focus of his love. He died in the most comical way, from a tainted hot dog, while you died in a car wreck the same night. You were so distraught that you ran off the road, dying on impact.

But Luke never knew you faced the same fate he had- death.

For 25 years, you had wandered looking for Luke. Only to conclude that he had already crossed over and was enjoying a ton of pizza and his music. But you were wrong- he had been trapped in a different dimension almost until Julie released them by playing their demo.

When Willie told you about this ghost band he found- you didn’t think much of it. People die every day so of course new ghosts appear. That was until he mentioned the cute guy- Alex… and you knew exactly what band he had run into.

Sunset Curve had finally made it to the ghost scene, or more so to the Hollywood Ghost Club.

“Willie do not tell me you invited them here- you know what Caleb is going to do” You stressed, anger beginning to drip on your words.

“I-I-I-I I didn’t know what to do… Caleb owns my soul, he would destroy me if I didn’t do as he said” Willie said, afraid of your anger. He knew you loved Luke more than anything and now- Luke could be in danger.

“Okay- I need you to find Alex and tell him to act like they don’t know me. I cannot… I will not let them get hurt because I am here. Go Now” You said, fear in your voice. You knew what Caleb would do to them if they acted like they knew you or even came close to you.

You were his main attraction, and he wasn’t going to let anyone get near you- especially if they convinced you to leave the club.

You began pacing back and forth before you were set to go on- you almost became nauseous at the thought of seeing Luke again. He was your great love story, and death came too soon for the both of you.

Caleb appeared down the dark hallway as you paced, “Nervous?” He said, the creepy tone griping his words.

You could barely catch his gaze- you knew he would be able to read you like a book, just like he had been able to for 25 years. He knew every little thing about everyone, and that is how he was able to control everyone in the long run.

“Always… I have a need to be perfect” You said, sarcasm dripping your voice. You wanted him to just drop it and go do his opening act. It was the same every night, he opened, and you closed. Same music, same routines.

He sent you his signature glare- before stepping onto the stage. “Hello, Hollywood Ghost Club! I hope you are having a wonderful evening- well a wonderful afterlife!”

As the curtains opened and closed behind him- You could spot Alex in the audience, meaning that Reggie and Luke were out there too. Running your hand through your hair, you cursed under your breath. They shouldn’t be here- a horrible feeling running down your spine.

You gripped your mic a little tighter as Caleb’s music was coming to an end. You knew you had to go out there and smash this performance- Luke hadn’t seen you in 25 years.

The beginning music to your song started- after Luke and you met the same fate, the music was flowing out of you. You thought he had moved on into the light and left you here alone but truly he never left you. But the aloneness made lyrics and melodies fall out of you, and that is how Caleb found you. You were the missing piece in his ghost club, and he knew he needed you.

So here you were- trapped in a world that made you miserable. A world without Luke, and without the life you both deserved.

As you were zoned out, the beginning notes on the piano began to dwell and the beat began to rise-

Don’t blink

No, I don’t want to miss it

One thing

And it’s back to the beginning

Cause everything is rushing in fast

Keep going on, never look back

As the words came out of your mouth- you couldn’t help but make eye contact with Luke. He looked startled to see you- he had no idea that you had died too. He thought you had lived on, started a family and a career, but no- you died the same night as him.

As the song ended, a smile creeped onto your face. For the first night in a long time, you felt proud of yourself- for your music, for your performance, for everything. You had Luke to thank for the extra bout of confidence. He gave you wings when you felt like you were going to fall, in life and in death he gave you the world.

The final bow was something so magical, watching the boys and Willie cheer for you in the audience. Watching Caleb’s creepy ass smile as he watched your every move. It was a night full of happiness, yet the fear of something happening to Luke because of Caleb.

You smiled, walking off stage. You made your way to your dressing room to take off this ostentatious outfit that Caleb had picked. You wanted nothing more to be in your comfy clothes, and just enjoy your evening. But the outfit you chose was something symbolic- it was Luke’s Sunset Curve t-shirt, it had rips and holes, but you couldn’t part with it.

A sharp knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts- God you prayed it wasn’t Caleb.

As you swung the door open- you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It was Willie, who happened to be eyeing your outfit with a smirk on his face.

“Hey Y/N. You good?” Willie said, trying to refrain from smirking even more.

“Yeah I’m good. If you are gonna make fun of my outfit- leave me alone William” You said crossing your arms over your chest. Clearly irritated with him just showing up at the door.

“I-I-I um… Luke is waiting for you in the alley, he wanted me to tell you. I think it’s kind of important” He said, trying to avoid my eyesight. You couldn’t even find the words before he spoke again, “And don’t worry- I’m going to keep Caleb busy”

You laughed as he winked at you before heading off down the hallway. You could feel the smile growing on your face as you slipped on your slippers, heading to the alley door. For being dead- the air was sure cold in LA right now. It was incredible you could still feel things like this.

Your hair whipped in the wind, as you turned to look down the dark alley. You could see a shadow walking towards you, and you knew by the walk it was Luke. A smile erupted on your face as you ran towards him, you could hear his chuckle as your got closer to him. You jumped into his outstretched arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. Silent tears ran down your face as he gripped you tightly, he couldn’t let you go, and you didn’t want him too.

“Baby… oh my god” He said, running his hand through your hair as he held you up. You gripped onto him for dear life, and you couldn’t bare being in this world without him any longer.

You could barely squeak out a “Hi” as sobs racked your chest. Your feet quickly hit the pavement as you looked into his eyes. His beautiful eyes, that always seemed to change colors. He was trying to take your appearance in- like it was the last time he was going to see you.

“What-what- what happened to you? How are you here?” He said, cupping your face with his large hands, pressing feverous kisses all over your face.

“I died when-” He cut you off, “I know you died stupid- but how did you die? Clearly I was the idiot who ate a bad street hotdog”

“Oh, shut up- I died that night too. I heard what had happened, that you… you all died, and I was driving to the hospital to try and make some sense of it. But I was so upset and distraught that I got in a crash and died on impact. I thought you guys had crossed over because I never saw you… I thought you had left me” You said, silent tears still pouring down your cheeks, as you caught his eyes a small smile formed on your cheeks.

“I could never ever leave you- not intentionally. I love you more than music can express. You are the one my heart loves” He said, tears forming in his eyes. You slid your hands into his as you leaned in.

Your lips touched and it was like fireworks coursing through you, he untangled your hands and gripped your waist tightly. He pulled you flush against him as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips. A silent moan escaped your mouth as you felt the first amount of pleasure in a long 25 years.

You pulled away from him, searching his face for the love you so deeply missed. You winked before poofing the both of you out of the dark alley. You took him to the one place you deeply loved before your untimely demise. It was the treehouse Luke had built you in the Patterson’s backyard.

You spent many of nights here alone, praying for a sign from Luke. The fairy lights always stayed on; I think it gave his parents comfort in his absence- well in both of your absences. They didn’t just lose a son; They also lost a daughter that night. His parents always knew that you and Luke were endgame, the full life of marriage and kids, growing old.

But that night- everything changed. The future they envisioned for the both of you had disappeared by a series of unfortunate events. This was the one place that Luke and you could have some time to yourself, away from the guys, your parents, and the world.

Luke was in awe at the place as he looked around. It was like he had forgotten how beautiful and full of memories this place was filled with. Your first kiss, your first date, your first sexual encounter, your first promise. Every bit of firsts had happened in this place, and now a new memory was going to be made. A restart to your relationship- 25 years down the line.

You couldn’t help but look at Luke in awe, he was the most handsome man. Even after all this time, it was like nothing had changed between you.

You walked over to him, running a hand down his chest. Catching his lips in yours, taking him by surprise. He was so in awe of you, and the relationship he cherished. You smiled as he gripped your hips, pulling you towards him. It was like you were falling into your old ways again, full of lust and pleasure.

 ~IF YOU ARE YOUNG, IT IS TIME TO BOUNCE 18+ MATERIAL~

 You reached up, gripping his longer hair in your fingers and pulling gently, earning a moan from his lips. His grip on your hips tighten, knowing good and well he would leave bruises, you know if ghosts could bruise.

He chuckled as he moved a hand to your cheek, gently rubbing your cheek causing a blush to erupt on your cheeks. The kiss was soft yet animalistic, as you pushed him back onto the bed.

Discarding your shirt, well Luke’s shirt you hijacked as well as your bra as you caught Luke’s lips back in yours. As you straddled his lap, he was gripping your thighs tightly, slowly the kisses began to travel down your neck and to your breasts. Taking your hard nipple in his mouth, causing a slur of moans erupt from you.

You began shifted your hips, rubbing slowly against his sensitive crotch- making his hips buck from under you. He wasn’t going to be able to last much longer if you continued that motion, so he quickly flipped you over, so he was hovering. He quickly stripped out of his shirt, before moving to your pants. Your leggings quickly flew off your legs, and he took no time diving between your thighs.

You could feel his hot breath on your sensitive heat, as he licked up your slit before hitting your bundle of nerves. It sent a jolt through your body as he continued to explore your heat. Your hands flew down to his hair, pulling tightly as your orgasm began quickly approaching.

“Uh-Uh- Luke… I-uh- I’m cloooseee” You moaned as you pulled his hair even tighter, he continued to lick at your heat as your orgasm graced his tongue for the first time in 25 years. You could barely catch a breath as you caught Luke’s gaze from between your thighs. You took in his appearance, his face glazed with your orgasm as a smile graced his face.

“So, mind telling me why you are still half dressed?” You said, eyeing his jeans that were constricting his crotch. The smirk he gave you as he unbuttoned his jeans was something you so deeply missed. As his jeans slid down his legs, his cock sprung free.

He laughed as the look on your face, you were practically drooling at the moment you were about to have. An encounter of the century.

Luke began hovering over you before pressing his cock past your slit. He was watching your face as your eyes rolled back into your head. The pleasure was overwhelming as you adjusted to his size.

You met his slow thrusts with your hips, moving against him. His brows began to furrow as you continued the motion. He growled under his breath, “Stop that- I am not going to last”

You couldn’t help but smirk up at him, catching his lips in yours once again as your hands roamed his body and tugged on his hair.

Your orgasm began to overtake your senses, as Luke’s thrusts began to fall out of rhythm. His grip began to tighten on your hips as your orgasm washed over you. Your walls spasmed around his cock as he began to unload inside of you, filling you up.

“Holy god” Luke said as he collapsed on top of you, it was like you both forgot how much you enjoyed this time together.

“That’s all I get? It has been some time, I am sure I can do it all again” You said, flipping the both of you, so you were on top of him. You just giggled at Luke’s expression as he brushed your hair out of his face.

“Oh, I am always been down for a round two” He said winking as he began nibbling at your sensitive spot, causing a moan to erupt from you.

For the first time in 25 years- you felt more complete than ever before. Luke was back into your world full of life, and love. The Hollywood Ghost Club was the last thing in your mind as you spent every last moment with the man of your dreams.

 TAGLIST:

@notasofti​ @julies-molina​ @parkeret​ @calamitykaty​ @kcd15​ @crybabyddl​ @all-in-fangirl​ @gia-kerks​ @morganayennefertyrell​

[allegra-writes]

“About you”

Tom Hiddleston x Reader

General audiences

Warnings: None

You and Tom have been friends for a while, and even though you have a huge crush on him, nothing’s ever going to happen between you. You would know, you tried. He just doesn’t see you that way. Or does he? 

“Maybe if I ask you why don’t tell me, I won’t try hard enough…

I refuse to give it up, my lady” 

About you - Hola a todo el mundo

MY MASTERLIST

‘Hurry up, y/n, we’re gonna be late’ Your best friend, Mary, pulled out your earbuds, effectively pulling you out of your musings.

'I’m coming, I’m coming!’ You replied, walking faster after her. You ajusted your earpods and your coat firmer around you, not that it did any good. Why did you decide to wear a dress on such a cold night? Probably for the same reason you had accepted to go out on the first place. That reason was currently standing just a few yards away from you, waiting for you girls outside the station and looking down at his phone: Tom William Perfect Hiddleston. Blonde hair, dreamy eyes and a smile that could melt glaciers. Always kind, always funny, always dangerously charming. He looked up and met your eyes, and that aforementioned smile took over his face, warming you up inside. Huh. Seemed you were right about those glaciers after all. Feeling the heath creep up your cheeks, you couldn’t help to smile back.

'Seb! Oh my gosh it’s so good to see you! We missed you so much!’ You heard Mary say and took your eyes off of Tom’s. Seb, Tasha and Nick, the rest of your group of friends, were already there as well. Apparently you had been too busy staring at Tom to notice. You wished you could say that had never happened before, but sadly it was quite a common occurrence.

'Seb, you look great. New York did you good!’ You stood on your tip toes to be able to hug your much taller friend.

'Darling, you look gorgeous as ever!’, Seb replied, holding you tight to him. Over his shoulder you thought you saw a flash of something crossing Tom’s face, but it was gone as soon as it got there and you wondered if maybe it was just your overactive imagination, always looking for signs that weren’t there.

'Well well, that’s enough, let her go, you’re going to end up smothering her’ Tom reproached jokingly, placing a hand on Seb’s right shoulder and he let go of you.

'Ok, now that everyone has had their fill of dear Sebastian here’, Mary suggested 'what do you guys say if we actually get into the underground station so we can get going and maybe make it to the play on time for a change?’

You did exactly that and soon the six of you were packed into a carriage full of people. Mary and you got seats and Seb stayed close to you, but Tom and Nick ended up on the other side of the coach. You weren’t sure where Tasha was. You turned up your music but after a couple of minutes, Mary was tugging at your earphones one more time.

'Tom is staring at you’, She whispered conspiratiorially, 'Again.’

'You’re delusional’ You replied without lifting your eyes.

'I am not such thing!’, Mary insisted 'Why do you think he’s even here, taking the tube with us? He does have a car, you know’

You made a face, you hated that car. It was ostentatious and flashy and always calling the wrong kind of attention. Namely, the attention of shallow and plastic looking women who threw themselves at the car’s owner. But then again, as far as you knew, he maybe even enjoyed that.

'Maybe he feels like drinking tonight and doesn’t want to have to worry about driving’ Was your nonchalant response.

'Oh, please! He never drinks. Not more than exactly one beer.’

'Maybe he will tonight!’

'That’s not it and you know it! Sebastian, back me up here!’

'Oh, would you look at that! Tash has found a seat. I’ll go ask her if I can sit on her lap’ And with that, he was gone.

’… Coward.’

'Seriously, Mary, would you just let it go? Please?’ You pleaded, resting your head on the cold glass of the window, felling suddenly very tired.

'Ok, hun, this isn’t like you. Tell me what is going on?’

'Just drop it, please. He doesn’t like me that way,’ you said weakly, trying not to let the hurt show in your voice.

'And how would you know that?’

You finally took your earphones off and turned to face her.

'Because,’ You looked at your best friend in the eyes and confessed 'I have already asked him out’

Her face immediately fell and for the first time, she was left without words. It took a few moments for her to ask, really softly,

'And he said no?’

'He said yes’

’…I’m sorry, I’m not sure I’m following, you’re going to have to explain’

You sight deeply, you didn’t really wanted to remember that night. The memory of it still brought tears to your eyes. However, you swallow hard and tried to relate your story through the knot in your throat.

'Remember that night last summer when I dragged you guys to see that band with me, Louden Swain?’

'The one with the hot singer, yeah.’

You shook your head. Trust Mary to forget what she had eaten for dinner, but to recall the hot musician from three months ago.

'Anyway, remember how you guys all had something to do the next day, because it was Thursday night and you all left as soon as the show was over?’

You waited for her to nod before you went on 'Well, Tom and I stayed behind, so I ask him if he would like to have a beer with me. And we went to a pub near by…’ You trailed off remembering that night, how Tom would throw his head back laughing at something you said and everything felt just so natural, so easy.

'And? What happened then?’ Mary urged you on.

'We talked, we laughed, we had a nice time. It was… Just like we always are. He was my friend Tom. He didn’t flirt. He never tried to make a move.

“He’s Tom, he’s shy! And he’s a gentleman, he wouldn’t try to…’

'Mary,’ you cut her off 'I’ve seen him with women, being all smooth talk and debonair. He just wasn’t like that with me. After the pub, he walked me home and when we got to the door, he hugged me goodnight. He hugged me’

You sighed deeply, and blinked hard trying to get rid of the sting in your eyes.

'Maybe he got nervous…’ But she sounded unsure. You looked at her, trying to will her to understand. You wished for the thousand time you were like her, guys just seemed to gravitate towards her wherever she went. And why wouldn’t they? She was beautiful, funny and moved with confidence, always knew what to wear or how to do her make up. You weren’t like that at all.

She fell silent after that and eventually, you pulled your phone out to turn your music on again, but found you had a new text from Seb.

She’s right tho, you know

It was all it said. You turned around looking for him and finally spotted him a couple seats farther back, with Tasha firmly on his lap, seemingly completely at home there. 

What do you mean?

You sent to him. A few seconds later, your phone chimed again with his reply.

Tom has a crush on you

You stared at those six words an embarrassingly long time before your brain started working again. When it did, you typed,

Not you too. It’s not like that. You guys just don’t know.

This time, his response took a little longer to arrive.

About the time you guys went out after that show and how he froze and didn’t kiss you at the door when he should have? Yes I know, he told me everything about it. In. Excruciating. Detail. And about how you didn’t call him the next day or the day after. He sulked 'bout it for weeks.

Seb was still typing when you interrupted the rest of his tirade with

I thought the guy was supposed to do that

He started typing again and soon you got another text, this one exasperated.

ARE YOU FREAKING SERIOUS?? For all your talk about feminism and equality and empowerment he thought if you still liked him YOU would call HIM. He thinks you friendzoned him that night.

Your obnoxious answer was

He never made a move

You looked over at Seb just in time to see him rub his face with his hand in frustration before texting

Not every guy needs to go for the kill on the first date you know? Some of them actually care about more than sex. There are some gentleman left out there.

You caught his eye as he placed his big hand on Tasha’s naked tigh. He winked at you and sent

Not me, tho. I’m a pig

That made you laugh out loud.

You looked out the window and saw there was only two more stations left before Picadilly. You were almost there. Your phone ringed with another text from Seb again.

Go on, you. Prove me wrong. Ask him out.

You bit your lip and looked at Tom, apparently deep in conversation with Nick. Not even the ugly fluorescent lights from the tube could make him look bad. It was unfair, really. You took a deep breath and before you got nervous and changed your mind you text him

Wanna do something together after the play?

You saw as he felt his phone vibrate and opened your text. His face lit up with the big, boyish smile that you adored. He bit his own lip and raised his eyes to meet yours through the crowded carriage and as his expression softened you were finally sure that your friends had been right all along. Because he was looking at you like you were everything that existed in that moment. There was no carriage, no crowd, not anything. It was just the two of you.

Anything you want, I’m yours

A text message wasn’t supposed to leave you breathless. But sure damn it did.Not to be bested, you sent back

What I want is for you to kiss me goodnight this time

There. There was no mistaking now, that wasn’t a "you’re my friend” kind of text. You literally couldn’t make it any clearer to him.

The train came to a stop and you had to get off, so he couldn’t answer. But as soon as you reached the stairs, you felt him entwine his fingers with yours.

And as soon as you got out the station and into the street, you felt him tug on your hand hard, making you turn around and crash into his waiting mouth. That’s when the world really stoped. That’s when everything truly disappeared. The dark, loud, bussy streets suddenly went pitch black and silent.

It was as if you had never been kissed before. As if you had never felt soft lips pressing on yours, nibbling them, coaxing them open, warm breath mixing with yours, big hands cupping your cheeks carefully, delicately, a tentative tongue licking your parted lips… All too soon it was over, but he didn’t let go of you just yet, and you didn’t try to get away. It was like gravity, there was no resisting it. He finally rested his forehead on yours and whispered against your mouth

'How about I just kiss you hello?’

The end.

This was the very first fice I ever wrote, back in 2018 and I realized I never posted here. Such a trip through memory lane! i hope you didn’t find this too cringey, cuz it will always hold a special place in my heart💖

[is-it-madness]

Metal Fingers

A/N 1: This fic is for my lovely beta/bestie @wowjeena Heyyo, would you be up to writing a soulmate au with Bucky? You can choose which type of soulmate au but can you make the reader a normal person (so not an Avenger or anything related)?? Thanks girl and if you don’t wanna that’s chill 👉🏼👉🏼 So... it’s not exactly a soulmate au, but I hope this is okay instead ☺️💜💜 I’m also so sorry it took so long. I hope you like it, my dear.

A/N 2: The Bucky Barnes Exhibit states he was born in 1916, but at the bottom where it gives his life span, it says he was born in 1917. I googled it to find the correct year, and it said 1917… I don’t know what to do with that information, other than to tell you guys there’s a mistake in the movie. 

A/N 3: I apparently couldn’t make this a one shot, so it’ll be a multi part story. I’m aiming between 3-5 parts

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x single mom!reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.5k+

~~~

Part 1

A Fallen Comrade.

James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes

Born in 1916, Barnes grew up the oldest child of four. An excellent athlete who also excelled in the classroom. Barnes enlisted in the Army shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor. After winter training at Camp McCoy, Wisconsin, Barnes and the rest of the 107th shipped out to the Italian front. Captured by Hydra troops later that fall, Barnes endured long periods of isolation, deprivation and torture. But his will was strong. In an ironic twist of fate, his prison camp was liberated by none other than his childhood friend, Steve Rogers, now Captain America.

Reunited, Barnes and Rogers led Captain America’s newly formed unit, The Howling Commandos. Barnes’ marksmanship was invaluable as Rogers and his team destroyed Hydra bases and disrupted Nazi troop movements throughout the European Theater.

He knew these words. He read and reread them dozens— if not hundreds— of times. He wrote them down in every one of his notebooks as he was scrapping, searching for his memories that were just out of his reach. He could nearly taste them. They fluttered teasingly in front of him: close, but not close enough for him to snatch out of the air of uncertainty. 

He pulled a fresh notebook from his bag and a pencil, worried away from teeth and words. 

Start with what you know…

My name is James Buchanan Barnes. I was taken captive by Hydra and was used by them. I know a man named Steve. He was my friend.  

He trailed off. This is where he always was left floating in a sea of not knowing. He was left grasping for more. He was a starved man, empty without his memories. The few he managed to uncover did little to tide him over from insanity. He bit at that familiar indentation on his pencil, trying to think of something, anything at this point that was more than those four simple sentences he’s written everyday for the past several weeks. Sighing and pulling his baseball cap lower in frustration, Bucky returned his supplies to his bag, stood, and swung it over his right shoulder. Eyes low, and clutching his bag, Bucky made his way towards the exit of the crowded museum. Ever since the Potomac, this section of the Smithsonian was more packed than usual.

Nearly there. Nearly there. 

It was an understatement to say that Bucky Barnes didn’t like crowded areas. Too many bodies, pressing, and pushing against each other, loud noises, pointless conversations discussing mundane things. 

Nearly there. Nearly ther—

“Oof!”

He wouldn’t have noticed the boy that ran into him if his bag hadn’t slipped from his hand, spilling out the contents onto the floor. Bucky hurriedly crouched to retrieve his precious memories. He barely registers the boy picking up the items that had strayed a bit further. 

“Here you go Mister! I’m sorry for bumping into you like that.”

Bucky silently takes his belongings back from the little boy standing in front of him. 

Bucky unintentionally begins to analyze him.

Probably seven or eight. Bright eyes. Tousled hair. Skinny. Doesn’t clear 100 pounds soaking.

He shakes his head. Stop. No more. 

“Whoa, cool! Metal fingers!!”

Bucky quickly retracts his fingerless-gloved hand.

The boy pulls his hand from his sweatshirt pocket. “Yours are cooler, but I have metal fingers too! Well, actually it’s a metal arm because the doctors had to get rid of my real one because I got hurt super bad, but I think it’s really cool.”

The boy said this all extremely fast, Bucky had to blink a few times to register what he had said. A compliment? For his hand? A hand that’s maimed, killed, and caused so many people to suffer?

“Uh… I… I have a metal arm too.”

The little boy’s eyes widened even more. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but Bucky took off his glove and showed it to the boy.

He took Bucky’s hand in his and stared at it, looking back and forth at Bucky’s hand and his. Bucky stood there stiffly, unsure how to respond. The boy looked up at Bucky solemnly.

“Do you have super powers?” he whispered. 

Bucky couldn’t help but crack a smile at his seriousness, but before he could answer, a woman came running through the crowd.

“Noah!”

The boy turned to give her a lopsided grin. “Hi Mom!”

“How many times have I told you to stay by my side, young man?”

The boy, Noah, dropped Bucky’s hand and took a step closer to the woman. “Sorry. But Mom!”

A raised brow silenced Noah. The woman looked up at Bucky.

“I’m so sorry if he was bothering you. He’s very social.”

Bucky forgot how to speak for a minute. The woman standing in front of him was… well, he’d never seen anyone as beautiful as her. Bright, sparkling eyes confirming where Noah got his from, a soft voice, and a sweet smile.

“Oh, uh, no. I mean, he is. I mean‒” When was the last time he had gotten tongue-tied?

Bucky cleared his throat, forced himself to try to ignore the sweet smile that was widening, and tried again. “He wasn’t bothering me. We were just talking about‒”

“His metal arm! Look at it, Mom!” Noah hurries back to Bucky’s side and holds his mechanical hand. “Look how awesome it is! And it’s huge!” He started poking Bucky’s upper arm and gasps. “And so are his muscles!! I bet he could crush anything!”

Noah began miming picking up heavy objects or crushing imaginary things, complete with sound effects. Bucky doesn’t miss Noah’s mother’s eyes widen slightly when Noah pointed out how massive his biceps are.

“Noah, honey, why don’t we go check out the exhibit?”

“Oh yeah! Let’s go, Mom!” He nearly takes off again before giving his mother a sheepish smile.

“What did you do?”

“I… I turned our map into a paper airplane.”

“And?”

“And... it… flew out of my hands?”

“Mm hmm. I see. Well, I guess we’ll just have to come back another time.”

Noah gasps and clutches his mom’s hand. “No! Please Mom! Don’t do this to me!!”

Her laugh causes Bucky’s heart to skip a few beats, and it frustrates him that he doesn’t know why.

“Which exhibit are you looking for?”

Noah looks at Bucky and salutes. “We’re here to see the Mister Captain America exhibit.”

“I could take you guys there.”

What. On earth. Gave him that idea?!

“Woo! Let’s‒”

Noah’s cheer was cut off by his mother. “Oh, no that’s okay. I’m sure you’re busy and you probably have something to get to you.”

She’s right… Why did I even offer in the first place? I can’t‒

“It’s not a problem. I was heading over there right now actually.” 

Jesus! What’s wrong with me?

Noah grabbed his mother’s hand and followed Bucky to the famed exhibit.

~~~

“So, I take it Noah’s a fan of the Captain?”

The beautiful lady standing next to him nodded. “Yeah, Noah loves him; really looks up to him.”

“Makes sense, he’s a good guy.”

“Sounds like you’ve met him before.”

“You could say that.”

They were pulled away from their conversation when Noah ran up to them, grinning.

“Mom! Look how skinny Steve was! And, and his friend? Um… Bucky? Yeah! Bucky! He would always help Steve out because Steve would always get in fights! So Bucky would come and have to save him!” 

Noah then proceeded to animatedly tell his audience how Steve became the Captain and fought in the War. When he went to go read the display in front of Steve’s motorcycle, Bucky turned back to the woman.

“Is this his first time here?”

She nodded and smiled. “I promised I would take him when I had a day off. He’s been waiting for weeks.”

A pause.

“How ‘bout you?”

“What?” Damn that smile! He got distracted.

“I take it this isn’t your first time here?”

“No, ma’am.”

Her giggle caused his firm expression to slip into a small smile.

Bucky spent the rest of the afternoon showing Noah around. He learned that Noah and his mother had been in a terrible car accident two years before. The injuries Noah sustained to his right arm were irreversible, thus leading to an amputation, a prosthetic arm, and even though she didn’t say, expensive medical bills burdened on his mother.

When the museum closed, Noah was asking his mother when they’d be able to return.

“I’m not sure baby. How about next weekend?”

Noah did a little dance showing his affirmation. Then he looked at Bucky.

“Will you be here too, Mr. James?”

“Uh, yeah sure kid. I’ll be here.”

Noah fist pumped as his mother said goodbye to Bucky.

~~~

Holy shit. Holy shit! 

You had been trying to keep your cool ever since you found Noah with James. You were eating dinner and you still hadn’t gotten over him. That man was fucking stunning. Blue, blue eyes that were filled with such sorrow, a smile that made your insides flutter, and a deep voice you were willing to listen to for hours on end. Soft and sonorous. And he was so sweet and kind with Noah. That alone had you taking a liking to him.

“Mom?! Mom!”

“Oh— sorry, baby. What’s wrong?”

“Thanks for taking me to the museum.”

You ruffle his hair. “Thanks for being so patient for me.”

He smiles as he shovels pasta into his mouth. 

~~~

My Ride or Die:

@lehuka123 @thejournalman @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @rebloggingeverything @just-the-hiddles @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog @thehumanistsdiary @fanfictionaries @astheworlddturns @bbarnestan @buckyfan12

[dutchforstrangers]

Weightless - a Yamato songfic one-shot

A/N: Gosh, I should be focusing on completing the last one and a half days for Digiweek 2021, but instead I’m here getting this idea out of my head. (While writing for Digiweek I came up with 8!! more WIPs to write in the future… @digiweek really sparked and boosted my creativity)

Last night I’d sent @tangledupblue this ask/message about this amazing Icelandic artist called Ásgeir. Really, his music is incredible and both soothing as ‘hitting’. The song I attached to the message is his newest release and after I had sent it, I found out the song is based on an experience the singer had and it’s so sad… I’ve been thinking about it before I fell asleep, in my dreams and when I woke up. It gave me all the Yamato inspiration I needed.

I always find myself having a hard time understanding the complex blonde, but in all honesty I have some serious things in common with the guy and he does remind me of both my best friend and boyfriend (hence why I always headcanon him to be a Cancer Sun regarding Zodiac)… So I try to understand this musician a bit better through my writings. And it’s sad and heartbreaking, but also… you have to find out for yourself. Keep in mind: I want all the best for all the Chosen Children and thus for Yama too! But this just wrote itself… Don't worry, it ends on a good note, kind of.

Characters: Yamato Ishida (background Ishida family, including Takeru)

Genre: Angst, hurt (without the comfort), family

Rating: T(+)… or maybe even M, I’m not sure

Wordcount: 1.476

Song used: Sunday drive – Ásgeir

!Trigger Warnings!: Angst, arguing, car accident, near death experience, blood

I usually say 'happy readings', but it’s a little inappropriate. So I’d say calm readings this time. Please stay safe everyone <3

xxx

Weightless

Yamato looked to the audience from where he stood on stage. Tonight was the release of his new EP full of original songs. He had decided to take the softer singer-songwriter turn with this one, instead of the sulky rock songs he usually wrote. They had already played three songs and now the fourth would come. He glanced over to his friends, his unknowing friends, giving them a small and careful smile. Then his eyes met Takeru’s, blue eyes meeting blue eyes. Yamato swallowed, then mouthed a sorry before taking his place behind the mic. His guitar playing bandmate taking his seat on the elevated stool next to him and the first chords filled the room.

Inhale.

Sunday drive

Memories flooded back.

Like we always used to do

In an attempt to safe their marriage, his parents had agreed on taking a trip to Shimane.

Park the car in the panoramic view

Stopping for a little break they parked the car on a hill with a panoramic view.

I stayed inside, while you photographed the lake

Young Yamato didn’t feel much for going outside, so he stayed inside of the car with his dad while his mother and little brother went outside to look at the lake and take some pictures.

After a little while his father grew impatient and left the car to go for a smoke. That frustrated his mother, turning her attention to his father to argue.

“You can’t just leave the car to smoke! Don’t be irresponsible, go back in!”

“I’m irresponsible? Look at yourself, leaving Takeru there all by himself!”

Yamato knew it were just words, he had heard them a thousand times by now. Each and every night he heard them scream, yell, bicker, argue. Yamato slumped back into his seat in the car, his eyes trying to find Takeru to make sure he was safe. Standing there with the camera in hand, still taking pictures, shielding himself from the arguing. All the while Yamato still heard the words his parents were throwing at each other.

He squeezed his eyes close, his mind going both dark and blank at the same time. His hands balling into fists, sending the tension into and through his whole body. He needed a distraction too, just like Takeru had his camera. So he unbuckled his seatbelt and crawled to the front of the car and into the driver’s seat.

Pretend to drive, I pulled the parking brake

Taking a seat, he placed his hands on the stirring wheel, pretending to drive. He tried to think what his parents did when they drove and he remembered them pulling the handle on his left. The arguing from his parents faded to the background, fully focused on the speed the car would make when he would be actual driving. He pulled the handle.

As he pulled the handle, Yamato felt the car starting to roll, still thinking it was part of his imagination. Though in reality the tires started to go round, making the car move forward towards the railing that divided the spectators from the lake.

Tires turn and slowly crush the ground

I still hear a terrifying sound

Luckily Takeru stood a little further from where the car would crush the rail. But Yamato could hear him screaming anyway. He had never heard his name like that, in the most agonizing way filled with an incredible amount of fear. Fear of losing him…

With the car still rolling towards the edge Yamato tried to search for help. His body was stuck in both the car and his body itself, frozen in the moment, in the middle from what was happening. In the rear view mirror he could see his father chasing the car, failing to reach it. He could see his mother rushing towards Takeru, running along with the car. As soon as she had reached the little blonde boy, making sure he was safe, her eyes turned towards Yamato in the car.

I search for help and meet my mother’s eyes

She stares back completely paralyzed

Their eyes locked, but instead of acting or moving towards him to help next, she was completely frozen in her place. Holding onto Takeru with dear life while the car with Yamato in it broke the rail. And the car started slipping down the hill.

In that one moment everything rushed in front of Yamato’s eyes like a movie of his own short life. Moments he wanted to hold on to, moments he wanted to forget as soon as he got the chance. The sun blinded his eyes, a bright light reflected by the lake flashing in front of his eyes. Even though he could feel the car slipping, rolling, falling and floating, he felt like he himself was standing still. Unable to move. Not wanting to move.

Felt like time was standing still

Sun was pouring on the hill

And I weightless in the air

His body surrendered to the weightlessness that came with the car crashing down due to the gravity. His weightlessness defying the gravity, it was the first time since a while he felt so free and light. The first time he could leave behind the heaviness present in his life. All while falling.

Floating far away from here

He turned his head, seeing his parents looking over the railing to the flying car. His parents fading away, the distance between himself and them getting larger and larger. He couldn’t quite tell if that was what he wanted, but for now he felt at peace with it. If it was among the possibilities, in that moment Yamato would have chosen to float on a little longer, not wanting to part from the weightlessness.

Closing his eyes he embraced the flying and floating a little longer…

… A dream that unfortunately couldn’t go on forever. As he opened his eyes and was met with the bright light of the sun again, he sighed. Weight had flowed back into his body, feeling heavy and present. He felt dizzy, his eyes scanning the car for an opening to get out.

Suddenly the wreck is lying flat

Pull myself through the shattered window glass

He could feel the sharpness of the shatters in his hands as he pulled himself out. Giving him the confirmation he could still feel pain, he was still alive. He felt his heart race.

By the speed of light all his thoughts came rushing back to him, pushing him down with both legs on the ground. Filling his head with the heaviness he so desperately tried to get rid of. No weightlessness anymore, only heaviness. In his head, in his body and in his heart.

An avalanche is running through my head

Body bruised and my clothes are painted red

At the same with the arriving from his thoughts, blood seeped down from his head. Barely able to stand anymore, he let himself fall on his knees, back to surrendering to the gravity. The heaviness consuming him. His body aching, his hands and clothes covered in both liquid and dried red. However the odd feeling of being freed lingered on in his whole being.

Holding on to that free feeling Yamato once again looked up to where he last saw his family. He could see his parents bicker as if they only cared about each other and their arguing and a sadness overflowed him. Then his eyes shifted to Takeru, tears streaming down his face, but his blonde hair colored golden by the touch of the sun.

Feelings of guilt towards his little brother overtook him. And as he followed the rays of light touching Takeru’s hair, his eyes now meeting the sky lit up by the sun, Yamato couldn’t shake the longing to that free feeling of weightlessness.

“Thank you,” he softly says into the mic after the last chords die down. It leaves the audience silent for a second, before a careful applause sounds. But Yamato doesn’t care, his eyes immediately scanning the audience like he scanned the car for an opening to escape back then. He’s met with his friends who watch him in awe.

Felt like time was standing still

Sun was pouring on the hill

And I’m weightless in the air

Floating far away from here

Then his eyes are met with Takeru’s, blue eyes meeting blue eyes. His own hair now golden from the stage light, while Takeru’s hair seems dark. He sees a single tear escaping his brother. Yamato reassuringly nods a single nod which Takeru answers with a small and gentle smile shaping his lips. Soon he is flooded with reassuring nudges, hands on his shoulders, side hugs and other positive touches Yamato is unable to give, the distance keeping the brothers apart.

But Yamato feels the reassurances from their friends through Takeru, for a tiny moment feeling the same weightlessness he so deeply desired.

[timebird84]

🎄 PotO Advent Calendar 2020 🎄

By @sloanedestler​

Mistletoe

 December 23rd

 “Thank you for such a lovely dinner, Erik.” Christine gave him a beaming smile as he opened the car door for her, leaning toward him just enough that he considered stealing a kiss, but he lost his nerve and merely helped her into the vehicle.

 Unbelievably, it had been exactly two weeks since he and Christine had had their first official date, and if her happy demeanor just now was any indication, he was hopeful there would be still more of them. When Erik slid into the driver’s seat and fastened his seat belt, she looked at him earnestly. “I was thinking maybe you could come up to my apartment when we get back there?”

 There was no chance he would say no to that invitation. Not only would he leap at any opportunity to spend time with Christine, he had been hoping to give her the Christmas gifts he had gotten for her tonight. While they planned to spend Christmas Day together, having been invited to spend the holiday with Meg and her mother, the thought of giving Christine her gifts in front of an audience made him apprehensive.

 “I would love to.” Unable to control the thrill that shot through him as her smile got even bigger, he continued, “but first, I had something else planned.”

 Christine giggled, knowing she was probably acting like a girl on her very first date, but she simply couldn’t help it - she had had feelings for Erik for so long, and now that she no longer had to hide them, it seemed like happiness was just bursting out of her. “Oh, really? What?”

 Erik shook his head, but she could see a slight grin on his thin lips. “It’s a surprise, my dear.”

 “Ooh, another surprise? You already remembered my favorite restaurant tonight.” Despite the difficulties Erik had in being around people, he had taken her to the same Italian restaurant that her father had always taken her to on special occasions, which she had just happened to mention to him months ago when they chatted after one of her voice lessons. As they had pulled up to it earlier that evening, she had fallen for him even more when she realized that Erik must have taken that bit of information about her and filed it away, even if he had thought he would never have the opportunity to actually take her there.

 Although she was dying to know what the surprise was, Christine decided to just savor the anticipation of whatever he had planned, and to continue to enjoy being with Erik like this, but as he drove them toward a residential neighborhood, her curiosity was nearly getting the better of her.

 Just as she was about to break down and ask him what he had planned again, Erik turned down a street seemingly at random, and began driving slowly down it. “You’re the expert, Christine. Does this look like a good street?”

 “A good street for what?” she asked blankly. She was crazy about Erik, but that didn’t mean that she always understood what he was talking about.

 “For Christmas lights? I remember you said you and your father used to drive around and look at people’s Christmas lights every year, so I thought maybe you would like to do that tonight.”

 When Christine didn’t answer, he glanced over at her, wondering if he had done something wrong, feeling his familiar insecurities rise up despite his best effort. When he saw the way her eyes were gleaming, his heart sank as he saw that he must have, if the tears in them were any indication.

 “Christine, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I can take you home now.” Already berating himself for ruining what had been a perfect evening, he started to make a move to turn the car around, but she stopped him with her small hand on his arm.

 “No, Erik,” she said huskily, “I would love to look at lights with you. I was just...surprised you remembered that I told you that. It was so long ago.”

 Erik met her gaze, his yellow eyes burning behind his black mask. “I think I remember everything you’ve ever told me, Christine. Every conversation we had after your lessons, you have no idea what they meant to me, what your friendship meant to me.”

 How she adored this strange, intense man. “Oh, Erik, it meant so much to me, too.” She nearly added that those conversations were what had led to her falling in love with him, but she held back, thinking it was too soon to tell him she loved him. Even though Christine knew without a doubt that she did.

 *****

 “You can still come up, right? I’ll make hot chocolate,” Christine asked once he parked in front of her apartment building, stealing a sideways glance at him. Although the mask made it difficult to read Erik sometimes, she thought she detected a happy gleam in his eye at her invitation.

 “Of course, Christine. I would love to.”

 Erik reached in the back seat on his way out of the vehicle and picked something up, but she couldn’t tell what he was holding until he came around to her car door. Even though it made her feel a little silly, Erik seemed to get so much enjoyment from opening doors for her that she didn’t have the heart to tell him it really wasn’t necessary. When she got out of the car, though, all thoughts of doors flew out of her head.

 “Erik!” she exclaimed happily. “You got me a present!”

 Seeing Christine’s excitement over the elegantly-wrapped boxes in his hand temporarily robbed Erik of any coherent thought. “Yes,” he agreed with her, “two, actually.” He immediately cringed at having stated the obvious, but his stupidity didn’t seem to bother her, since she slipped her hand into his free one for their short walk up to her apartment.

 When they got inside, Christine hung his coat up next to hers and led him over to the couch, where Erik placed her gifts on the coffee table in front of it. He sat, hoping she would join him, but instead she moved toward the kitchen. “I’ll just get the hot chocolate started, all right?”

 Erik would much rather have the opportunity to cuddle next to her on the couch, but Christine had brought up hot chocolate several times, so maybe it was important to her. “That sounds nice,” he said politely, if not entirely truthfully.

 Just when he started to wonder if he should have offered to help her, she called to him from the kitchen, “Erik, can you come in here?”

 Rising quickly, he made his way to help her, but to his confusion she met him in the doorway, hands empty. When she just looked at him and smiled, Erik started to feel self-conscious. “Did you need help, my dear?” Why was she looking at him like that?

 Still staying silent, Christine raised her gaze to the top of the doorway, and Erik realized there was something hanging there, some sort of Christmas decoration like the ones scattered all over her apartment. He stared blankly at her for a moment longer, and then suddenly realized what she wanted from him.

 Christine blinked in confusion when Erik reached for the mistletoe hanging above them instead of leaning down to kiss her. “Erik, what are you doing?”

 He paused, confusion in his eyes. “I...thought you wanted me to move this for you? Since I’m so much taller?”

 Just managing to bite back her amusement, not wanting to hurt his feelings, Christine shook her head. “That’s mistletoe, Erik.” When he just continued looking at her in confusion, she continued. “You know, when you meet someone under it, you’re supposed to kiss.”

 That certainly got his attention. “You...want to kiss me?”

 Now Christine was the one feeling confused. “Of course?” She and Erik had kissed multiple times over the last two weeks, and she was reasonably confident she hadn’t given him any reason to think she wouldn’t want to repeat the experience. “We’ve kissed quite a few times by now, Erik. Why would you think I wouldn't want to?”

 He glanced away, embarrassed. “I just thought...I wouldn’t want to presume anything.”

 Christine’s heart clenched as she heard what Erik wasn’t saying. Before her attempt to flirt with him under the mistletoe derailed any further than it already had, she simply reached up and pulled him down to her, meeting his lips with hers.

 Although Erik was stiff at first, he soon wrapped his arms around her and began kissing her in earnest, thrilling to the feeling of how tightly Christine was holding him as she eagerly returned his kisses. After a long period of time where they proceeded to get more and more lost in each other, she finally drew back with a shaky laugh, dropping her forehead to his chest.

 “I think the hot chocolate is probably cold by now,” she said with the most musical giggle Erik had ever heard. Truly, every sound she made was perfect to him.

 “I don’t mind,” he replied truthfully, but she laughed again and pulled away as he reluctantly let his arms fall from around her.

 “I’ll heat it back up. Meet you on the couch?”

 Unable to say no to her, he simply nodded.

 *****

 When Christine entered the living room and set the hot chocolate on the table, Erik expected her to sit beside him, but instead she went over to her small Christmas tree and pulled a brightly-wrapped package out from underneath it. Smiling shyly, she brought it over and sat it down next to the presents he had brought for her. Surely it couldn’t be...had she gotten him a Christmas gift?

 Christine smiled at him sweetly after she sat down beside him. “Do you want to open yours first?”

 Erik stared at the gift in shock, unable to believe that this lovely girl had taken the time to buy a present for him. “Open it?” he asked her blankly.

 “Well, yes, that’s what you do with gifts. Haven’t you ever gotten a Christmas present before?” Christine’s grin told Erik she was joking, but he decided he needed to try to collect himself before she realized the sad answer to her question.

 “Why don’t you go first?”

 He didn’t miss the eager gleam in Christine’s eyes. Erik filed away the information that his sweet girl liked receiving presents for future use.

 Christine reached for the smaller of the two boxes, but Erik stopped her by handing her the slightly bigger one first. Wondering if that meant what was in the small box was the better or worse gift, Christine took the package from Erik and tore the lovely paper off.

 “Oh!” she exclaimed happily when she saw that the present was a box of her favorite cookies, from a specialty shop in New York. “Erik! You remembered this, too!” Christine recalled raving about these specific cookies when she had described her last trip to the city to him. How sweet it was to think that Erik had been so attentive to all the little things that she had told him, even when he thought she would never be anything more than his voice student.

 When she picked up the smaller gift, she noticed that Erik’s always-straight posture became even stiffer. Was he nervous about whether or not she would like this present? Intrigued by what that could mean, she peeled the paper of it eagerly, but when she saw the tiny velvet box inside, she started to feel a little nervous herself.

 Was Erik going to propose? Christine knew she loved him, but this...was too sudden.

 Gingerly, she popped the little box open, nervous to see what was inside it. Christine’s first reaction at seeing earrings instead of a ring was relief, but she soon realized the beauty of the pair. Nestled in the box was the most gorgeous jewelry she had ever seen in person, each earring consisting of a round sapphire surrounded by tiny diamonds. This...was decidedly not costume jewelry. Erik must have spent a fortune on these, she thought distantly.

 Erik watched as Christine examined her gift, nervously hoping that she liked the earrings, but when she raised her wide-eyed gaze to his, his heart plummeted. She obviously didn’t like them, or thought they were too much, or maybe she didn’t like him at all and had only agreed to a few dates with him to be nice, and now didn’t know how to tell him that after he had foolishly spent several thousand dollars on jewelry.

 “I’m sorry, Christine,” he said hopelessly, as he started to rise from the couch so he could leave her in peace, but she grasped his arm to stop him.

 “What are you sorry for?”

 “I...it’s obvious you don’t like them. I’m sorry,” he said again. “It was too much. I-”

 To his surprise, Christine stopped his rambling by placing her delicate fingers on his lips. “Erik, I love them. They’re absolutely beautiful.” And to his surprise, she replaced her fingers with her lips, kissing him sweetly and sliding her arms around him.

 As their kiss started to deepen, Christine pulled back just a fraction, and Erik had to bite back a moan at the loss of her lips on his, but she was merely reaching for his mask. However, instead of tearing it off as she had in the past, she paused just before touching it to gently whisper, “May I?”, waiting for his slight nod before untying it.

 She turned away just long enough to set the mask on the coffee table, and then Christine was right back in his arms, but instead of instantly resuming their kiss, she pressed her soft lips to his forehead before kissing his wasted cheek. Even though he knew it was too soon, he couldn't stop the words that left his mouth, prompted by the sweet way she was treating his horrible face.

 “Christine, I love you.”

 The sweet angel in his arms froze, and Erik cursed his stupidity. It seemed he was determined to frighten her off one way or the other tonight. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I know it’s too soon, but I thought you surely knew anyway-”

 Once again Christine cut him off, this time by briefly pressing her lips to his, then pulling back to say, “Erik, it’s all right. I mean, obviously I suspected that you did.” She leaned in for another quick kiss. “And, Erik, I love you too.”

 Erik was completely stunned into silence by the words he had never dreamed Christine would say to him, but she spared him the need to answer by pulling him into another kiss. This one lasted quite some time, until she pulled back for air, leaving her forehead pressed against his.

 Suddenly she gave a little start. “Oh! You haven’t opened your present yet.” Turning away, she reached over to pick it up and hand it to him. Erik took the package from her and merely admired it for a moment, savoring the thought that the girl he loved had actually gotten this for him. Part of him wanted to simply leave it wrapped just like this so he could always have the reminder that Christine had cared enough to get him a gift, but he knew that would not be what she would consider normal behavior.

 When Erik began to carefully remove the paper from his gift, Christine was struck by a sudden thought: he had gotten her both an incredibly thoughtful gift and an extremely expensive, absolutely beautiful one, and she had gotten him-

 “A sweater! Christine, it’s perfect!” Cringing that Erik was being so sweet when she had gotten him the most cliché gift ever, Christine awkwardly tried to explain herself while Erik examined the fitted black garment as if it was the most delightful thing he had ever seen.

 “Sorry, I know a sweater is a little...boring, but I just thought it would look nice on you. And it’s your favorite color,” she finished lamely.

 “Christine! Why would you apologize? This is by far the nicest gift I’ve ever received.” No need to ruin the evening by mentioning it was also the only gift he’d ever received. In a sudden burst of inspiration, he added, “Because it came from you, of course.”

 That was apparently the right thing to say, as Christine threw her arms around him and drew him in for more kisses, the hot chocolate completely abandoned on the coffee table by this point.

 When they finally pulled apart, Christine nestled up against his side, laying her head on his shoulder. “I really am sorry your gift wasn’t more exciting, Erik.”

 “Christine, truly, I love it. I can’t wait to wear it to our celebration on Christmas Day.”

 “Oh, Erik, that is so sweet of you.”

 They lapsed into silence for several minutes, simply holding each other close, until Erik spoke again.

 “Christine?” he asked hesitantly.

 “Yes?”

 “Do you...think you might wear the earrings on Christmas? Do you really like them?”

 “Of course I do, Erik! And I can’t wait to wear them on Christmas.” Christine squeezed Erik’s thin waist in a hug, hoping he could feel just how sincere she was. He responded by wordlessly burying his face in her curls, holding her just as tightly as she was holding him, before finally breaking his silence.

 “I’m so glad you like them. Merry Christmas, Christine.”

 “Merry Christmas, Erik.”

[justdecadentcollectiondestiny]

Our manager called us into a meeting and told us what we already knew. “We gotta face facts,” he said to us as we sat in a row, Faith on my right, Graham on my left, and Denis on his left. “The last album didn’t do too well. I mean, it’s not that you guys don’t have talent.” He gestured at each of us in turn. “Bass, vocals, guitar, drums - you’re the whole package. You just need that little something extra for this upcoming record.”

“What are you getting at?” Denis asked, his arms and legs crossed over each other.

Our manager leaned forward and folded his hands on his desk. “I’m proposing that Ava and Graham date.”

We shared a silent glance. “You’re not serious,” protested Graham.

“Of course I’m serious. It’s perfect. It’s a fairytale. The singer and the guitarist. Long hours rehearsing, writing songs, on the road, from which - love bloomed. Let’s face it, you two are the eye candy of the group. They’ll adore you together.”

I looked open-mouthed from Graham to Faith to our manager. “There’s no way we’re doing that.”

Our manager shrugged. “You hired me for my advice. This is it. Trust me. It’ll sell.”

We let out a collective sigh.

“Tell you what. You try it for a month to promote the new album. When time’s up, if it doesn't work, you’re done. And if it does, I won’t say ‘I told you so’.”

We thought.

In the end, we agreed. Graham and I started leaving the recording studio holding hands. We planned “dates”, doing things we always did anyway, just making sure to pose with our arms around each other for the paparazzi. I started wearing a “G” around my neck, he an “A”. It wasn’t too awkward, we had always been good friends. There was just a sense, to an insider at least, that this new ruse was keeping each of us away from the person we really wished were sitting across from us.

As much as we hated to admit it, our manager had been right. The fans ate it up. Our new album sold better than any of the others, and we sold out a twenty-show tour in just a few weeks. So when the month was up, we didn’t have any excuse to call it off. So we kept it up, him opening car doors for me, me twirling my finger in his hair.

We set off to the first stop on our tour. We had written this album full of love ballads, and the “oohs” and “ahhs” from the audience at us juxtaposed next to the swoon-worthy lyrics were almost louder than the applause. Our set list ended with the most romantic of the new songs, and Graham turned to me as we sang the final verse.

“You’ve always been there, right next to me

We’re better together, don’t you agree?

I’ve loved you forever, can’t you see

My dear, you and I are meant to be”

By now the audience was chanting: “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” like their lives depended on it. Graham took my hand and turned me towards him, a grimace on his lips only I could see. “Seal the deal?” he whispered.

“Fine,” I replied just as the confetti launcher went off and we kissed to the sound of a thousand screaming fans.

We scurried backstage as a deafening roar begged for an encore. Denis headed straight for his dressing room, Graham close behind, pausing for only a second to set his guitar down. “Den, wait-”

Faith packed up her bass, the whole room dripping with uncomfortable silence. She moved to put the case away and stopped as we came face to face. “Hey.” I smiled awkwardly. “Good show, huh?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Nice touch at the end there. They loved it.” She patted me on the shoulder, once, twice, before letting her hand fall and moving away, my eyes staying on her as she left.

It became a ritual of sorts. At the end of every show, we would turn to each other, sing the last sappy verse to each other, then kiss as Faith and Denis looked on like awkward third and fourth wheels and the crowd whooped and cheered before pulling away like magnets turned the wrong way. Some fans suspected, but were drowned out by the vast majority calling us “Ava and Graham, the new heartthrob couple”. Show two, five, ten, seventeen, we kept at it, ignoring everything until we couldn’t any longer.

We met in Graham’s dressing room before show number twenty.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I said.

“Neither can I,” he said. “I’m in love with someone else.”

“Me too.”

That evening in that dressing room, we made a plan.

That night’s show went on as normal, with the audience clapping and singing along, enjoying each song while eagerly awaiting the end of the concert and what would come with it. When the moment came, the last verse of the last song of the night, the anticipation in the air was palpable. However, the excited buzz of the crowd died down in shock as Graham and I turned not toward each other, but away, and moved across the stage, me stage left to where Faith was plucking her bass, Graham upstage to where Denis was pounding his drums.

They looked almost as surprised as the audience as we started singing the final verse of the night to them.

“You’ve always been there, right next to me

We’re better together, don’t you agree?

I’ve loved you forever, can’t you see

My dear, you and I are meant to be”

The song ended and Faith cupped my face in both of her hands and kissed me. I could see out of my eyes that Denis had done the same to Graham. For a split second the entire venue was completely silent before the room erupted with the sound of the confetti launcher and an enormous cheer from the audience. And finally, we kissed the person we had wanted to kiss all along, as confetti rained down on all of us.

Pictured above, top to bottom, left to right: Faith, Ava, Graham, Denis.

[twokinkybeans]

Stark On Ice: Starker Figure Skating AU Chapter 1

Summary: Six months ago, the broadcasters asked Tony to participate in Celebrity Spin-Off; an annual TV series where celebrities get paired up with a professional figure skater and compete against each other. Well, he’d laughed in their faces, wondering why they’d even ask. Were they really that stupid? He had better things to do. “If you can find me a male skater who lets me lead, I’m in,” he’d scoffed sarcastically to brush them off.

He didn't expect them to take his answer seriously.

Masterpost (to be posted) Find On AO3

---

Chapter One: Let Me Entertain You Tony readjusts his jacket as he walks into the large building that is the Midtown Ice Arena. It’s a few minutes before 7 AM, and he already downed a triple espresso on his way here - amusedly ignoring Happy’s complaints about it being so damn early. He will give the man a raise soon. Tony can’t say he’s a morning person, but having to get up this early every single day for three months in a row helps to get used to it. Today is different, though. He feels jittery and on-edge just thinking about today’s events. It’s the final rehearsal. Tonight he’s going to skate in front of the entirety of the States. He knows many people won’t even bother to watch the TV series, but the idea has him slightly nauseous anyway. His first live show…

Live show.

Tony chuckles sarcastically at himself as he sits down on one of the benches in the changing room. Live show. Six months ago, the broadcasters asked him to participate in Celebrity Spin-Off; an annual TV series where celebrities get paired up with a professional figure skater and compete against each other. Well, he’d laughed in their faces, wondering why they’d even ask. Were they really that stupid? He had better things to do. “If you can find me a male skater who lets me lead, I’m in,” he’d scoffed sarcastically to brush them off. 

He’s still not sure why they took his answer seriously, but they had. Tony Stark doesn’t back out of a promise, though. So, here he is, lacing up his skates after three months of intensive training, ready to work through his choreo together with his assigned partner Peter Parker. From what Tony’s heard, Peter is a pretty big deal in the skating world. He’s a sweet, enthusiastic 21-year-old who has enough talent and skill in pair skating to participate in the Olympics, yet he’d chosen not to. Instead, he tours across the US with Stars On Ice, coaches young kids at Midtown, and has a YouTube channel where he and his partner MJ post routines with traditional gender roles reversed.  Tony admires Peter’s passion. The man doesn’t like other people very fast, but Peter was something else entirely. He’s endearing in a way. It’s easy to like him. Which, thank god, is a positive thing. They’ve had to train together for a minimum of eighteen hours for the past three months - both on ice and off. Tony had been surprised to see that the theory classes and off-rink practice were just as important.

When Tony finishes lacing up his skates he walks towards the rink, finally knowing how to do that without looking like a waddling duck. A smile creeps onto his face when he spots his partner on the ice already. The boy moves around ever so graciously, practicing his triple axel. A few days prior, Peter told him he hadn’t done it in a while, and he and MJ intend to use it in their new YouTube tutorial, so he’s been wanting to perfect his landing. It’s not like he pops it, but the boy isn’t content very easily. Tony enjoys watching him rehearse no matter how he lands. He’s so beautiful out there. Like he was born to skate. After landing perfectly three times, Peter slows down to give himself a short break, and that’s when he spots Tony at the entrance. The man waves awkwardly and Peter grins. “Mornin’, grumpy-head!” Peter laughs as he skates towards him.  “Well, look at you. Always a beaming ray of sunshine, aren’t ya?” “You know me too well, Mr. Stark. Hope you didn’t forget to apply your sunscreen today!” Peter jokes, jumping off the ice to give Tony a short hug. Tony hates to admit he likes that Peter greets him like that every single day. The boy isn’t scared of him, unlike most other people. Another reason why Tony likes him. He grunts as a response to the joke and nudges Peter. “Think it’s time to start training. Steve here yet?” Tony asks, looking around to see if he spots their coach. Peter shakes his head. “No, his car broke down a few blocks from Midtown, he’ll be here soon enough. Let’s start warming up so we can dive right into the sequence when he gets here.” “Yes, coach.”

-

“Why- Why do these outfits have to be so glittery,” Tony jests as he eyes himself in the mirror. He’s wearing a tight and stretchy black button-up with thick, gold seams and shiny gold beads all over it. Thank god his pants are a simple plain black. Peter is adjusting his hair right next to him. The metallic gold tee hugs the boy’s skin so incredibly tight that Tony can’t help his gaze from wandering down a little, peeking at the boy’s gorgeous abs. Peter grins as he follows Tony’s gaze. “Well, I guess that’s why,” Peter retorts, and Tony blushes. He sniffs, staring at his own reflection again. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Says the man who asked for a male partner. I still don’t-” “Oh shush,” Tony cuts him off playfully and waves his hand in the air. Peter simply chuckles and finishes styling his curls. They’re silent for a moment and Tony’s thoughts wander. He hadn’t meant to stare like that. Yes, he was bisexual but that doesn’t mean he liked Peter like that. They were already making headlines on entertainment websites. He can’t even imagine what’d happen if they’d actually feel something for each other. That’d be insane and highly unprofessional. The kid is too young, and- No. Tony doesn’t even have to make excuses for himself. Peter is nice. That’s it. 

Thinking about them making the news doesn’t exactly settle his nerves. People are interested in them. Tony Stark on skates must be high-end entertainment for many people in itself, but the fact that they’re a male couple… He knows the public’s eye is on them tonight. “So tell me, kid. How does one contain nerves for a show, uh?” Tony asks, trying to keep it casual but failing massively. A gentle smile tugs on Peter’s lips. “Experience. Trusting yourself,” he starts. “You know, Tony. You won’t be flawless tonight. But that’s okay, remember? No one will be. Flawless is not what we aim for. Chemistry. Engaging the public, and-” “-just having fun on the ice,” Tony finishes for him with a nod. Peter has told him this many times before, but the reminder does settle his nerves. Tony’s a beginner, but he’s got the name and his charm. And Peter... They’ve got a pretty good shot. “Exactly. Now, tell me- what are you most nervous about?” “Honestly?” “Well, yes.” “Dropping you.” Peter sighs and takes a step closer to Tony.  “You won’t. You’ve only dropped me once, and I wasn’t even hurt. Even if it were to happen, I know how to take a fall. We’ll be alright. You’re one of the best skaters in this competition. You’re gonna ace this.” “Thank you, Pete. Hey, for what it counts, I’m glad you’re my skating partner.” “And I’m glad you’re mine.”

-

Tony’s throat is dry, his heart beating rapidly in his chest when his fingers tangle into Peter’s. The boy is so close to him, just like during practice. It grounds him. The floor manager smiles at them. “Good luck out there, you ready for it?” Tony nods, his lips pressed together in a thin line. Smile. He should smile. Peter squeezes his hands once and Tony takes a deep breath. He’s got this. They’ve got this. The floor manager signals, “-Standing by…” Oh, God. This is it. Tony sniffs. His hands feel sweaty, his stomach knots together once more. As much as he appears to be comfortable in public, the moment right before always has him on edge. Any moment now. His gaze focused on the floor manager. Waiting for her cue.  “And go!”

Tony forces his most charming smile on his face when he skates forward in unison with Peter, the cheers of the audience enveloping him. They stop in the center of the rink and he guides Peter in front of him. The boy’s arms are crossed in front of his chest. Tony puts a hand on Peter’s right shoulder. It’s quiet for a second, but then the familiar tune starts playing and Tony licks his lips. Peter smirks, pushing his skates into the ice to circle around the man, Tony’s gaze tracking him until he’s in front once again.

Hell is gone and heaven’s here There’s nothing left for you to fear Shake your arse come over here Now scream 

Peter twirls and presses into Tony’s side. They grin at each other and skate forward, towards the edge of the rink. Tony’s nerves finally settle when he focuses on just how smooth Peter glides over the ice. The loud music cuts off the sounds of their blades crushing the frozen surface beneath them, but Tony hears it in his mind instead. He knows exactly where to turn, where to move. Peter sends him a little nod right before they go into the crossovers. Tony doesn’t like crossovers all that much, it makes him feel stiff and uncoordinated. Yet, somehow his body seems to do it on autopilot today, simply mimicking Peter’s lead. 

I’m a burning effigy Of everything I used to be You’re my rock of empathy, my dear

Tony feels powerful in a way, his movements loosening up with every passing second. It’s time for their waltz jump. He turns around to transition into backward crosscuts and then shifts his weight from the right outer edge to the left one, throwing his right leg up in front. He gasps when he feels how smoothly he lifts off the ice. He’s flying through the air, weightless, and a quick glance confirms that Peter is too. When his right foot hits the ice again, he bends his right knee and extends his left leg behind him. The applause envelopes him like a warm blanket and the adrenaline coursing through his veins is an exhilarating sensation. He did it. He did it!

So come on let me entertain you Let me entertain you Let me entertain you

Tony turns around again to find Peter skating in his direction with a proud and goofy grin on his face. Tony’s heart leaps out of his chest when he realizes his partner is just as impressed as he is. Their hands find each other as they increase their speed to make it through another set of crossovers. Tony doesn’t even worry about them anymore at this point. Everything is just fucking amazing. 

Let me entertain you Let me entertain you (let me entertain you) So come on let me entertain you (let me entertain you) Let me entertain you (let me entertain you)

Tony takes a deep breath when he realizes it’s time for their lift. He sets off for his continuous three turns and feels how Peter starts leaning into him. The man prepares for the boy to jump up from the ice gracefully. When Peter does so, he easily catches him and they spin into their rotational lift. Tony loves this one - loves to have Peter in his arms bridal style while spinning around and around and around while remembering his words. Don’t be afraid of the speed. Stalling is falling. Tony doesn’t feel like they’re falling. No, it feels like they’re floating, setting off for space.

Come on come on come on come on Come on come on come on come on Come on come on come on come on

Peter moves slightly, indicating it’s time for Tony to help him back down again. They transition into forward strokes toward the center once more and slow down. Their arms are spread wide proudly. Peter then circles Tony just like he did in the beginning, leaning into Tony’s side when the music comes to an end. He can’t help wrapping an arm around him to pull him in closer, bathing in the applause and the cheers that are thrown their way. Oh my god. They pulled it off. He can’t believe they did it. Of course, he doesn’t have Peter’s finesse but fuck. As Peter would say, they aced it. Together. 

---

Next Chapter: To Be Posted

[mjscornerr]

the can-can

for @broskepol (i don’t know if you meant this to be a writing prompt but i vibed with it and im bored at work)

(warning: can-can from orpheus in the underworld was blasted during the writing of this fic and as a result the entire work is on crack)

It had been stuck in Loki’s head all damn day.

It was a classical song with some sort of trumpet melody. “Can-can,” he remembers Peter calling it last night at his after-school Drama Club meeting. Peter claimed it was the Drama Club’s theme song.

A drama club that, believe it or not, Loki was a proud member of.

When Thor had brought Loki back to Earth, the team decided first and foremost that the god of mischief needed to be contained, to be isolated. He was too chaotic for their planet.

Whatever, Loki had thought. This coming from the gentleman that wanted to put a suit of armor around the world? Talk about paranoid.

Though when all was said and done, Thor hadn’t even been able to convince Tony to let Loki exist in harmony with mortals.

It had been Peter.

Peter suggested rehabilitation. He was the one that had seen Loki sitting bored out of his mind behind a thick sheet of glass, had been the one to hear Thor’s story of how Loki saved their people. He was the one that demanded Tony find any other method of familiarizing Loki with both humans and the world because, as far as Peter had been concerned, locking a person away just because they unleashed an entire alien race on the biggest city in the world “wasn’t fair.”

The punishment didn’t fit the crime, so it goes.

So there Loki was. Spreading strawberry jam and peanut butter on two slices of bread, humming “Can-can,” and silently wondering how he was finally living without a target on his back, silently thanking Peter.

“Are you...humming?”

Loki spun on his heel with a jump, butter knife flying out of his hold and splattering peanut butter and jelly on the floor as he made eye contact with Clint, who was leaning against the compound refrigerator with narrowed, suspicious eyes.

“No.” Loki spun back around, his chin raised as he brought the two pieces of bread together and settled the sandwich on a plate. “I hate music. It’s too...happy.”

Clint scoffed, his arms crossed over his chest as he sauntered forward. “And I’m...what? Just supposed to believe that?”

“Do what you will,” Loki shrugged, taking a bite of his sandwich and raising a brow smugly at the avenger. “I don’t control you.”

Clint clicked his tongue with a laugh, shaking his head. “Alright. I see how it is.”

“And how is it, bird man?”

“Don’t bullshit me. You’ve been in my head before. I don’t know what fucked up game you’re playing here, but we’ve taken you down once. Don’t think for a second we won’t do it again.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Cut the crap. Alright? You’re the god of mischief for christ’s sake. It’s in your blood.”

Loki clenched his jaw, his chin remaining raised as Clint stood inches from his face.

“You may have everyone else fooled, but not me. You can never belong here.”

Loki puffed his chest out, anger seeping into his gaze, his ears and cheeks burning red-

“Woah, woah, woah-“

Loki snapped his head toward the kitchen island as Tony jogged inside, his hands raised in mock surrender.

“Let’s all just take a breath. Alright? Legolas, you want to, uh...?”

Clint scoffed and turned on his heel as Tony brought a hand to the man’s shoulder and clapped it, turning over his shoulder and offering Loki a smile.

“Makin’ yourself some lunch there, Dark Knight?”

“...Trying to.”

“Right. Carry on.”

Tony led Clint out of the kitchen and heaved a sigh, hand remaining on his friend’s shoulder as they sauntered toward the great windows of the compound.

“...You wanna pull yourself together, dear?”

“He was humming, Tony. Humming a song like he’s innocent.”

“Look, alright, he’s getting there. But we can’t provoke him like that anymore.”

“Why are you okay with this? The guy is the literal master of manipulation and deceit, Tony. And why do you let him hang around the kid?”

“Loki can’t hurt Peter. There’s no one alive that can look in that kid’s eyes and try to hurt him. I don’t make the rules. Besides, Loki needs a friend that isn’t Thor.”

“I’m sorry, since when are we beating around the bush and treating him like royalty? In 2012 he’s killing at random and sending galactic armies down on us and now he’s making sandwiches in our kitchen? Humming?”

“Maybe he likes music.”

“Where did he even hear it?”

“Does that matter? He’s...immersing himself. He’s trying to be better. Who cares where he heard it?”

“It’s just weird,” Clint shrugged, squinting as he looked out the window at the blinding blue sky. “He doesn’t have a phone, and he definitely doesn’t watch TV. Just makes you wonder, you know, where he heard the song.”

Tony raised his jaw and narrowed his ryes suspiciously Clint’s direction, imagining all the ways Clint would flip his lid if he ever found out that Loki, for some reason Clint’s great enemy, was attending Drama Club meetings at the Midtown School of Science and Technology with Tony’s kid.

“...Could’ve been anywhere.”

“Hm.”

Tony’s answer had been far from satisfactory.

Clint was about to head home to his family for the weekend when he spotted Loki sneaking out of the compound, fully clad in a sweatshirt and jeans. He looked over his shoulder once before he was letting the door slip shut behind him.

Clint narrowed his eyes and followed him out, bow in hand.

Loki stopped beside one of Tony’s Audi’s. He looked both ways again anxiously before he was opening the passenger side door.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Clint growled and reached behind him for an arrow, fastening it in place, closing one eye for precision-

Clint’s eyes flew wide when he spotted Tony in the driver’s seat. He choked, quickly lowered his weapon, and watched numbly as Loki climbed inside the vehicle and shut the door behind him. The Audi peeled out of the driveway soon after.

“...What are you up to, Stark?”

Clint followed loosely behind the two in his car for about forty five minutes before Tony finally parked the car.

Midtown School of Science and Technology...?

The two climbed out of the car and began making their way through the front doors. It was four o’clock, so obviously school had ended by then.

Clint narrowed his eyes in suspicion and snuck after them.

They sauntered through the halls casually before Tony led them into the auditorium. Clint hurriedly ran to keep the door from shutting and slipped inside after them, bow and arrows still at the ready.

“...Okay, so, looks like everyone’s here, except...”

Clint crawled behind a row of seats in the audience, squinting as he watched a group of kids conversing, all seated in a circle on stage.

Two kids were standing looking at a clipboard. A blonde girl, sixteen or so by the looks of it, and...

Peter...?

“Oh, nevermind, there he is!”

“Hey, Loki!”

“What, no greeting for me?”

“Hi, Mister Stark.”

Tony patted Loki’s back as Loki hopped over the lip of the stage and crossed to the one empty chair in the circle.

“I beg your pardon,” Loki said in a polite, unfamiliar tone, smiling nervously as he sent an awkward wave to the group of kids. “I appear to have lost track of time.”

“You’re right on time,” the blonde one assured him, her smile beaming. “We’re covering improv today!”

“Oh, great,” Tony grunted as he seated himself on the front row in the audience. “I’m something of an expert at improv myself, you know. I have never planned anything that’s ever happened to me, ever.”

“Do you wanna join, Mister Stark?”

“...Nah. You guys got it.”

“If you say so. Alright, someone get the music.”

One of the kids hopped up from their seat and jogged backstage. A second later, classical music began playing softly around the theatre.

Clint gasped, betrayal flashing in his eyes as he narrowed them.

“The can-can...”

“Let’s warm up with the freeze game! Noes goes!”

The kids each quickly raised a finger to their nose. Loki was the last to do so.

“Aw, okay, Loki’s it for the first round.”

Clint scoffed. It? Loki’s it? Like he’s playing a god damn game of hide and go seek?!

“This should be good,” Tony said from the front row.

Clint saw red.

Peter sensed this, snapping his head out toward the audience in alarm. Tony frowned, turning over his shoulder.

But Clint was already running and fast, the music crescendoing as he grabbed an arrow, positioned it in his bow, leapt over the stage, landed on the apron-

“Get down!”

Peter’s cry of alarm sent everyone screaming and diving to the stage floor, hands over their heads protectively. Loki was standing with wide, terrified eyes as Clint aimed and fired his bow.

“No!”

Peter leapt forward and caught the bow a mere few inches before it could collide with Loki’s face. He stared at it in shock for only a moment before he was turning back to Clint, eyes wide.

“Mister Clint, what’re you-?!”

“Get down, kid.” Clint shot another arrow Peter’s way, the arrow exploding into a net and entrapping Peter inside as he collapsed to the ground. “I’m trying to protect you.”

Loki reached for Peter desperately, though Clint returned his aim to the demigod, expression seething.

“Don’t move a muscle.”

“Are you out of your damn mind?!”

Clint glanced to the side as Tony jumped over the lip of the stage, horrified gaze darting between the arrow aimed at Loki’s face and his kid, kicking and thrashing inside of a net.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“I mean, Jesus Christ, Barton. I shouldn’t even have to tell you how wrong this is.”

“Dammit, Tony, this isn’t real. Okay? None of this is real! Until he’s been inside of your head, until he’s controlled your mind, you’ll never understand that everything he’s ever done was just for show.”

The auditorium doors clicked open. Clint faltered as Natasha, Thor, Steve, and Bruce walked inside, eyes immediately wide at the sight on stage.

“What the hell is going on here?”

“Brother? What is the meaning of this?!”

“Golden Archer here had a bright idea to ambush a high school to settle a grudge. That’s the meaning of this.”

Clint lowered his weapon, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

“...what are you guys doing here?”

“We’re here for the play.” Steve lifted a flyer from his pocket, eyebrow raised. “It’s Loki’s first show. It was on the fridge.”

“...What?!”

Loki sent an accusatory scowl Tony’s way. “You told them?!”

“It...might’ve slipped out over dinner. But I didn’t hang that on the fridge, I swear.”

Loki narrowed his eyes again, this time Peter being the victim.

“...sorry, Lo.”

“Wait...” Clint scoffed, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “You signed him up for this, Tony?”

“...The guy’s already a drama queen. What else was I supposed to do?”

“We came to find you,” Natasha explained to Clint, “but you weren’t in your room. We assumed you already went home for the weekend.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“Um, excuse me,” the blonde girl was saying from the floor, her friends around her shivering in fear, “but what is going on? And why is Peter in a net?!”

“Good question, Miss Brant.” Tony strode forward, sending a seething glance Clint’s way before he swiped one of his arrows from out of Clint’s pouch and used it as a knife to slice through the ropes of the net.

“You good, kid?” Tony brushed Peter’s hair out of his eyes gently, worry etched into the lines of his face.

“‘M good, Mister Stark. Thanks.”

Tony was just about to turn around and tear Clint to shreds, though someone beat him to it.

“If you hurt the child again,” Loki warned through gritted teeth, “I’ll be the one holding the arrow to your face.”

Clint scoffed. “See, Tony? He’s still the same Loki. He hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Do you even hear yourself right now? That was eleven years ago. I mean, look at him. He’s wearing a sweatshirt and jeans for godsake. He’s at a Drama Club rehearsal. What’s he gonna do, huh? Kill us all with the plastic prop sword backstage?”

“I don’t-I don’t know, okay? He’s got Asgardian powers. Any second he could turn on us.”

“He would never do that.”

Clint raised an eyebrow as one of the kids rose from the ground hesitantly, hands still raised in the air.

“Loki is...we really like him here. He’s good at drama.”

“Yeah,” Betty nodded, rising to her knees. “He’s the club historian. He takes all of our pictures for us. He even started on a scrapbook.”

The group chorused in agreement. Loki fought a genuine grin when he remembered that the avengers were watching from the audience seating, listening.

“Plus, he’s one of my best friends.” Peter smiled up at Loki from his knees. “Right, Lo?”

Loki bit his lip before he grumbled something under his breath, throwing up his hands in mock surrender.

“Fine. Fine, okay? I may have...I may have bonded with the humans. And I-I listen to music now, and I go to Drama Club meetings, and I wear...whatever style of clothing this is.” Loki turned to Clint, his stance still defensive though his gaze was sincere. “I’ve changed. Or, at least, I’m trying to change. All I need is a second...second chance.”

Loki stuck his hand out for Clint to shake. Clint raised an eyebrow, raising his jaw.

“No tricks?”

“No tricks.”

“No lying? No infinity stones? No alien armies?”

“None whatsoever.”

Despite himself, Clint’s lip quirked ever so slightly in a smile and he was taking Loki’s hand in his, shaking it with a nod.

“Well...alright then.”

Clint slung his bow over his shoulder and turned to face the avengers in the house of the auditorium, his gaze apologetic. Natasha, Steve, and Bruce was smiling up at him. Thor was wiping tears out of the corner of his eye.

“Brava!” Thor clapped, his lip quivering. “Excellent! Excellent display!”

“...You realize that wasnt the show, right?”

“I would be fine if it was.”

“Eh,” Tony shrugged. “I think that’s enough Drama Club for one day. What do you say, kids? Rendezvous for some shawarma?”

The group of teens all chorused in excitement, rising from the ground and all thoughts of danger vanishing from their minds. They slung their backpacks over their shoulders and descended the steps of the stage excitedly.

“Mister Stark,” Peter frowned as Tony wrapped Peter in a side hug, squeezing him. “I thought shwarma was reserved for after missions?”

“Well...” Tony gestured his head toward the lip of the stage, where Loki was dangling his legs off of the side and engaging in conversation with the avengers.

Actually talking. No fighting, no weapons, nothing.

Thor was ruffling his brother’s hair fondly, tears still brimming his eyes. Loki was rolling his own, scoffing at Thor’s adoration.

Clint was still suspicious though Natasha was nudging him in the shoulder, a smirk on her lips. Bruce had an arm draped around Steve’s shoulders as Steve threw his head back with a laugh at something Loki had said.

“...Mission accomplished, kiddo.”

//do not tag as st*rker or th*rki//

[flyinglotus777]

Fleeting Lotus

An usually sunny day on September 22nd. Reminiscing on the great remembrance of the 21st night of September. Although the sky was clear, my thoughts were cloudy. 3 years had passed since the death of my mother and I celebrated how I celebrated any other anniversary in my life, with a pack of menthol cigarettes and a book to get lost in. The pick for the day was Harry Potter: Order of the Phoenix. My mother and I shared a love for Harry Potter, she introduced me to the series. I had a strange feeling that judgement was coming to me swiftly much as it met our three estranged heroes.

A knock at the door.

“Los Angeles police, open up.” an assertive, but comforting voice commanded.

I open the door to be greeted by a beautiful detective James. First name unknown. She had a slicked back, long curly ponytail and eyes of warm chocolate. Her skin was sun kissed and I found her presence to be encapturing. I wonder what she wants with me.

“Good morning sir. I am detective James. I am aware that your girlfriend, Lauren, has been missing for a couple of days and I would like to ask you some questions.” Her eyes pierced at me with persistence. Her tone sounded as if she was asking a question, but I knew she would come again if I denied. Maybe with more reinforcement.

“Uh, sure. Come on in.” I shut the green door behind her and light a cigarette. If I am to be interrogated, I shall answer in smoke.

“Sir, can you put that out?” 

“No, but I’ll open a window for you. You can sit by it.” I turn on a fan and open a window. I open the blinds slightly to see the families laugh and play in the shallow, motel infested pool. What a bunch of turds, I laugh to myself. 

I grab a seat for the lady and one for myself next to the ashtray. I see her eyes wander in silent judgement and amazement of the room. 

“There you go, Ms. James. Now what can I help you with?”

“Your girlfriend, Lauren Alexander-”

“Ex. I don’t make love to the dead,” I chuckle.

“She has been missing for over five days. We are doing an investigation and asking all close friends and family members about her whereabouts and when they saw her last. Why do you say she is dead?” she asks unsteadily, gripping the upholstered arm chair.

“Well, five days missing in this city means you’ve been kidnapped or killed. Especially for women, I’m sure you know that all too well yourself ma’am. Besides, I am the one who called to inform the police of her absence.” I take a drag and relinquish the air and stress I had built up inside of me for the past few days. She eyed me up and down as I spoke, taking notice of my fully unbuttoned beige, roaring tiger print shirt to reveal my white Hanes undershirt matched with my khaki capris. I placed my leg over my ankle so maybe she would catch a glance of my Nike socks and birkenstock combination. I did dress myself today after all. Her eyes read suspicion, but somehow I could tell she was doubtful of me. 

“Well, I would just like to ask some questions and I will be on my way.”

“Ask away. How rude of me. I forgot to mention, my name is Jacob Whitmore. My friends call me Jakey, but they haven’t been calling me as much lately.” I took another drag. Nothing screams rise and shine like a nicotine coated menthol and sitting across from an upgraded police officer.

She shakes her head in disgust and despair. “Mr. Whitmore-”

‘Please, call me Jacob.”

A heavy breath followed by a restrained urge to eye roll left the detective. 

“No more interruptions please. Where were you on Thursday, September 18th?”

“Well let’s see.” I begin to close my eyes and play in my hair in an attempt to rush my memory to the present. I need more nicotine for this. “I remember waking up that morning in my downtown Los Angeles apartment, noisier than ever that morning. Lauren had made me her classic breakfast special: bland eggs with turkey bacon and 3 chocolate chip Eggos before rushing off to work. She worked multiple jobs. She walked dogs in the morning before heading off to her fabulous mansion tour of house cleaning. Demeaning, but rewarding as me and the bills always thanked her.  I had suspicions that she had been cheating on me. I found love letters in her pockets while doing the laundry. I was a stay at home while she took care of me in between jobs. I know, you don’t find too many of us house husbands,” I said, smirking at the unimpressed detective. 

“Anyways, I decided that day I was going to follow her. Do some investigating of my own. I could’ve asked her, but I wanted to see for my own eyes the poor bastard that she was playing. You see, she loved me. We were in love and inseparable. She would be playing this rascal, but still wishing the man sweetening her gears was me.” I lit another cigarette, thankful for the lotus shaped ashtray that contained a mountain of my remnants over these past few days.

“Self absorbed, maybe but that was the kind of love her and I shared.” A smile shot across my face uncontrollably. “To my great fortune, she was loyal. I watched her rip the gardening boy a new one as she proclaimed her love for me. Lauren had the mouth of a New Yorker with the face of an angel.” A chuckle escaped through my lips along with the smoke. “I was so happy I bought her roses, her favorites. Yellow bodies with pinked tipped petals. I bought her three bouquets and decided I was going to make her favorite, fettuccine alfredo. Then I was going to lay her down like I was a handyman and the Lord hand delivered me a golden pipe to fix all broken faucets in the city.” I ashed my cigarette and began to spiral as the next menthol met my lips. I could see the concern on the detective’s face as my demeanor began to colden. 

“I made her dinner. I cleaned the apartment. I lit candles on the table and on the counter. I wasn’t too big of a romantic, but I knew how to set the mood.” I chuckled as I hunched over in my chair, staring at the ground. My hands began to tremble. I abandoned my dear ashtray for the floor. “I called her five times in the first round, no response. The clock struck 5:30, and I knew that was the time she was usually getting onto the bus. Sometimes she had went to the gay bar on Melrose, the one with the illuminated turtle splashing into an ale of beer. That quacky place,” I begin to rub my head in distress. “But she texted me that she had a long day and would be coming home as soon as possible to run a bubble bath. I was going to fuck her in the tub too.” I place my hands in my head as I wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes, sucking them back into their place. The detective has been silent, but watching me in suspense like an audience member of a Shakespearan tragedy. 

“By 8 o’clock, I still had no response or sight of her. The candles were melting down to the stem and the alfredo might as well have been frozen. That’s when I made a call to the station.” I stepped on the menthol delight to extinguish it before lighting another. Only four left in the pack. Fuck. I hope this wasn’t going to take much longer.

The detective nodded and I noticed she was taking notes. She seemed very good at her job. “I have some more questions for you...Jacob” she ended her sentence hesitantly, but her soft tone comforted my damaged soul. She shifted in her seat to her legs being crossed as if she was finally finding comfort in her 1940s styled chair. “Now we visited some of her colleagues and friends who reported a similar story to you, minus some details. We have no leads, as we have already contacted the gardener who had matching alibis. The bar said she had not come in that day. We’re still recovering city footage of her traveling throughout the county.” I picked my head up to meet her eyes. My emerald eyes glisten as she asks, “why did you decide to rent out this motel room the night of September 18th?”

“Well, I couldn’t stay in the apartment knowing that something had happened. You see, today marks the anniversary of my mother’s death. She would come here often.” Detective James nodded as if she understood. 

“I’m so sorry to hear about your loss. Would you all come to vacation here?”

“My mother was a hooker. She would bring male and occasionally female clients to this location.” I said nonchalantly as if I were telling a relic of an old friend. “My father abandoned us when I was freshly born and she needed some way to support me and my brother. When she couldn’t find someone to watch us she would have us sit in the parking lot. In the parked car of course. One night I came stumbling in to beg my mother  to take us home as the clock was striking midnight and the car felt like an overworked camel hump to sleep on. I didn’t know what she was doing at first, she would always say business. I thought she was like a wall street business shark working men for their hard earned cash. I was partially right. I remember hearing these weird, promiscuous noises screaming through the lotus flower tapered walls. That’s my favorite part about this place.” I said drawing our attention to the decorum. “The pink flowers draped on the walls. Lotus flowers are supposed to be a symbol of purity. My innocence was extracted from me that night.” I take a hard drag on my cigarette in pain of irony. The detective stared at me in awe and pity. Before she could speak, I continued on with my story.

“Something inside of me told me to stay out, but my 7 year old brain was too curious not to open the door to see my mother getting pounded like the whore she was. The man just smiled at me and asked if I wanted a turn. I turned around and ran away. I vowed to never bring it up or let my brother know.” I shake my head reliving the trauma and seeing my last cigarette. “She was a good woman. She took care of me and my brother and made sure we had more than what we needed. Lauren kinda reminded me of her. Now they’re both angels watching over me.”

Detective James watched the flame from the lighter and then proceeded to scribble down an additional note. She had a confusing look on her face as if she was missing a piece of the puzzle.

“You know,” she says softly. “It hasn’t been confirmed that Lauren is dead. She may still be alive.” 

I shrug, “I abandoned false hope long ago. Is there anything else I can help you with, Ms. James?”

She starts to gather her belongings, but pauses for a second as she spots my unzipped suitcase. I could tell the puzzle pieces in her brain were looking for the missing link. Before she can answer, I say “I’ll walk you out,” managing to produce a smile. I’m just happy to reup on Ms. Mary Menthol.

She nods with a smile to mirror mine. “That is all for today. Thank you for your time and I am sorry life has been unkind to you.” Her tone rang defeated. I’m unsure if she was more saddened by my life or the unsolved case. We shake hands and I turn to reach for the door. As my back is turned, the sly bitch kicks open my suitcase to reveal a half kilo of my delicious cocaine, a machete with dried blood painted on it, and hand written notes I had written for my sweet Lauren. The next thing I know, I turn around to a gun pointed in my direction and me being handcuffed. Just as I thought I was in the clear. The scene played like a slow motion, silent film.

You see the cops had been trailing my alias for years as I had developed an itch that only holding a dead female corpse could scratch. Fell for my act didn’t you? I was sure hoping detective James would. I played the role so well I deserve to host the next fucking emmys. You see I’m not a bad guy, just a tortured soul. I was going to marry Lauren, I really was. She discovered I had killed my mother and was horrified by my actions. She was never supposed to find out. That sweet little Sherlock went rummaging through my stuff one day innocently only to be greeted with the same murder weapon that matched the description of my mother’s murder weapon and soon to be hers. I was tormented by my own thoughts and other kids for my mother’s actions. Although her intentions were in good faith, they created a world wind of hell for me. I plotted the move since I was 16. I figured sure people could clown me for having a whore as a mother, but would they say the same if she was dead. Then that makes you a shitty person. Call my mental twisted, but you try walking in my shoes and telling me how the fuck you like those roses. I’m ritualistic in my attacks as to why I was planning on burning the evidence that night on the day of my mother’s death. I figured her soul would take care of it, but it seems as if it had a vendetta to avenge me. As for the cocaine, my only mistake was not head diving straight into the baby powder while sweet cheeks handcuffed me. I hope they sell menthols in prison... 

[thosequeenboys]

The Way Old Friends Do (Queen)

Author’s note:  This work is based on the ABBA Song of the same name.   The story takes place New Year’s Eve, 1973 and New Year’s Eve, 1990.  In addition to those Queen Boys, the story features Freddie’s devoted friend and personal assistant, Peter Freestone, aka Phoebe.  Numbered text is referenced at the end. This piece was published in the Some Kind of Magic Fanzine.  Wishing everyone a happy, healthy and easier!! New Year! 

Kneeling before the fireplace framed in white marble, Freddie held the match under the log tower in the deep fire box.  As it ignited before him, the flames warmed his soul and his weary body. He let the mesmerizing light transport him to the beginning, back to when they had big dreams, of creativity, of recognition.   There they were in the reel playing in his mind, circa 1973, bumbling around the studio in the pre-dawn hours, perfecting takes.  Streetlights streamed through the dirty curtains, and high heels clip clopped on the damp pavement outside the window. 

One of Freddie’s many gifts was to synthesize – this drum lick, that riff, those voice overs.  He was not the leader, he would adamantly claim over many years, but he fell naturally into the role of mediator when tensions erupted during those long nights.  When terse exchanges invaded, Fred would ensure each boy felt heard and validated.   A flurry of scenes passed through him, and he remembered each of his calming responses:  “Roger has a point.”  “Perfect Deacy, Dear, let’s give that a go.”  “Lovely, try that softer, Brian.”   The angry tension had evaporated; the outcome of his coaxed camaraderie was perfection.

Refocusing his eyes on the fire, Freddie became of aware of Phoebe silently setting up the etched champagne flutes on the bar at the back of the room and easing the chilled Dom Perignon into the silver ice bucket stand.  Freddie rose slowly, returned the iron screen and made his way to the plush settee angled toward the fireplace, eager to continue that visit back in time.  After so many years, Phoebe could tell when Freddie was engrossed in his own thoughts, creating - or lately, like tonight, reliving.  The portly man finished his tasks, and before he left the room, he eyed his dear friend taking a seat to find the relief he needed. 

Freddie blinked away the pain running through his bones and returned to the dancing fire.  In it, he saw himself walking by the turntable gingerly so the album wouldn’t skip.  His long hair fell into his face.  The music blared from the speakers.    

“Five minutes to Midnight. Let’s go!” Freddie implored, as he passed Brian and Roger lounging on opposite ends of the worn couch, their feet tangled together in the middle, and John, sitting cross-legged on the tattered easy chair, leafing through a stained magazine.   Freddie ducked into the tiny kitchenette.  He grabbed four mismatched glasses and the bottle of cheap champagne he bought earlier in the day.  It would leave a sour aftertaste, no doubt.  Fortunately, there was sufficient vodka for chasers.

“Absolutely not, Roger!” Brian’s voice rose with annoyance.

“C’mon, Brian,” Roger’s ire could not be missed.

“None of this.  Not tonight,” Freddie chided, reentering the small sitting area.  “It’s time to ring in the new year – And,”  Freddie purred, as he uncorked and poured the champagne, “Celebrate the first album of the next band bound for greatness!  Gather ‘round, boys.”  Languidly the three band mates rose and took the filled glasses Freddie offered them.  

“To Queen!  To this successful year we bid farewell!  -- and to the magnificence ahead in 1974 – and beyond!!”  Freddie said, his mouth broadening with each word.  “To Queen!” the boys echoed.   Smiles were exchanged as they raised their glasses and sipped in unison.  “This stuff is bloody awful, Fred,” Roger cackled, a look of disgust overtaking him.  The boys’ laughter accompanied the church bells pealing outside the small flat, signaling the arrival of the new year.  

Freddie chuckled thinking of that night so long ago, amazed that it was still as clear as the crystal glasses glistening behind him.  He dropped his head to his chest, and the image vanished.  

Over the years the crowds grew, their creativity blossomed, and fame erupted, the extent of which they couldn’t have imagined.  Though they all worked as a team and each had immense gifts, Freddie stood at the center of their evolution, which seemed limitless.  Each year presented many milestones to toast. Yet, the glory left in its wake an underside that swept him up and spit him out.  But at night on stage, Freddie rose -- a force buoyed by powerful lights above him, screaming crowds before him, the music surrounding him and those boys behind him. The spotlights showcased his immense talent and power to engage the audience, building a crescendo of rapture.  There were two sides, but the boys were always there as the reminder of who he truly was: an innovator, a creator, a collaborator, a musical genius --  and a loving, gentle, generous and witty friend. 

Freddie scanned the room and took in the paintings and unique artifacts he collected during decades of travel. Each had a story; each brought him joy.  Suddenly aware of the evening’s ritual, he glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantle. Any minute now.  And as if prompted by Freddie’s notice, voices reverberated off the brick outside the window as car doors slammed.

Pressing his arms into the firm cushion, Freddie stood carefully, gaining his balance.  He turned his attention to the entry foyer in the distance where Phoebe offered warm greetings and efficiently took coats, knowing this visit was limited as family parties awaited.  Phoebe gestured to the living room, and the boys stepped in, taking in the slight figure bathed in faint firelight before them. 

The fire was now blue-framed blushes of orange poking out from blackening logs.  Freddie stepped forward to tend to it.  “Here, Fred,” Brian said, taking long strides across the expansive room to the fire. “Let me.”  Roger quickly sidled up to the other side of the fireplace and silently removed the screen. Brian repositioned the burning logs to spark the flames and added a new one from the large Chinese porcelain jar painted with orange and blue dragons next to the fireplace. 

Freddie felt John staring at him and suddenly the younger man looked away, blinking. Were the cheekbones so hollow a month ago, he wondered, as the fire cast a shadow in the deep crevice of Freddie’s cheek.  In that moment he knew.  “This is the last one,” John said to himself, feeling tears forming.  Surprised that he allowed this thought, John quickly regained his composure and looked at Freddie.  A shy smile of admiration crept onto his face, and Freddie returned a warm grin.

“Beautiful!” Fred said turning to the fire, now bestowed with new life. If only there could be a comparable easy fix.  He made his way to the back of the room, the boys in tow.  “Gather ‘round, boys,” Freddie encouraged.  Between each pour, he wiped the bottle’s rim with the soft towel Phoebe had draped over the bucket.

“Hasn’t been such a bad year,” Roger said in his sincere, optimistic way.  The other boys nodded, hoping Roger would supply a litany of cheerful highlights to overshadow the glaring contradiction standing in front of them serving champagne. 

“Hey, we got the BRIT Award for Outstanding Contribution to Music.  Finally!  And Innuendo is fantastic!  Should do very well,”  Roger affirmed confidently, as the glasses were passed.

“A toast!” Brian raised his glass.  “To this successful year we bid farewell!”  He looked down, not sure what to add, where to go.  The other three boys joined him comfortably in the silence, for it was wrapped with the joys and sorrows and hopes of decades past, unspoken comfort and their unconditional bond of friendship.

“To fairy tales of yesterday that grow but never die,” (1) John added.  The boys exchanged glances nodding, and clinked their glasses. 

“To carrying on,” Freddie said firmly, breaking the wistfulness.

“To carrying on!” The boys echoed, trying not to sound somber, though they knew that carrying on meant until the end -- and beyond, concepts presently unfathomable.

“Glad you got the good stuff,” Roger said, raising his nose in the air satisfied, as he laughed and held his glass up to the light.  

“I always aim to keep you in the manner to which you’ve become accustomed,” Freddie quipped. They laughed in agreement.  “The manner that you all deserve,” Freddie added.  Freddie’s smile evaporated and he looked down.  “The best.”   Horns and bells sounded outside, along with the cheers from Freddie’s sitting room down the hall.  

The boys finished their drinks and set down their glasses.  They huddled together closely around Freddie.  Strong hands with long, graceful fingers rubbed backs and grazed knuckles.  Loving hands.  Musical hands.  They bent forward in their circle, holding each other just a bit tighter, and their heads touched.

I don't care what comes tomorrow. We can face it together. The way old friends do. (2)

Notes

1.       The Show Must Go On by Queen

2.       The Way Old Friends Do by ABBA

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Walk Me Home - Ch 6

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. 

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level), swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 1775

Author’s Note: All my thanks @mskathywriteswords​ , @fangirlxwritesx67​, and @cracksinthewalls​ for making this story way better than it started. Thank you to everyone who read/reblogged/liked the first chapter. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I do. Also, hang on to something. This chapter is short, but it packs a bit of a punch.

I’m working on a follow-up to my Dean story Dear Mr. Fantasy that I hope to post sometime in the next few weeks. Check it out, if you haven’t, and let me know if you’re interested. 

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 6

“I think we can officially call this morning a bust,” Kimber declares, collapsing into her office chair. Dean sighs, rubbing his forehead with one hand, the other propped on his hip. He doesn’t disagree.

“We checked the grad student office where I found Allen,” she says, checking off her mental list as she goes. “You checked out the stairwell where Helen fell. We found zilch in Dr. Lawrence’s office, and nothing here, as well. What’s next?”

“I’ll check in with Sam,” Dean decides, pulling out his cell. “Then maybe some lunch, and if Sam’s done, we’ll meet him at your place so we can start there. Sound good?”

She nods as Dean hits a button on his phone, raising it to his ear and turning away. Kimber’s eyes follow him as he paces the front of her small office, waiting for his brother to pick up. She stretches in her chair, feeling drowsy after the morning’s exertion, and she realizes she’s going to have to get up if she doesn’t want to fall asleep at her desk.

She moves towards the door, mouthing, “Bathroom,” to Dean, who nods as he listens intently to Sam. The brisk air in the corridor is bracing after the still warmth of her little office, and she takes a deep breath before turning towards the restrooms. The hallway is as close as the department gets to being crowded, with several classes letting out simultaneously. 

She pushes through the throngs of chattering students, smiling at a few of her own, intent on getting to the bathroom before it fills up, when she feels a light tap on her shoulder. Kimber turns, but before she has time to register anyone’s face, she feels something thrust into her outstretched palm.

…

Orange and red leaves flutter around her, joining the dense carpet of their brethren beneath her feet. Footsteps crunch before her, and she can see Dean just up ahead, her backpack slung over his shoulder. Dean never carries a backpack of his own, so they must have just finished a study session. He glances back, eyes alight with mischief, grin firmly in place.

“You comin’?” he asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer, just continues his casual saunter down the path as autumn rains down around them. “Wanna show you somethin’.”

She hurries to catch up, waving a stray leaf out of her face. The ground feels strange underfoot, too firm, her footfalls too loud for such a thick layer of leaves, but she’s too focused on Dean to pay much attention. Someone calls out behind them, but she’s determined to not be left behind a second time.

No matter how fast she runs, though, he stays a few paces ahead with his steady, cartoonishly slow pace, and she grits her teeth in frustration. 

Molasses would be an improvement.

“You’re gonna love this, sweetheart. C’mon, it’s just up ahead.” 

Their pursuer calls her name, closer this time, but Dean is right there, and if she can run just a little faster, she can catch him. She swats several leaves from the air, her mouth twisted in a frustrated frown, reaching out to Dean. 

“Kimber! Stop!”

A voice echoes from behind her, but then Dean turns, holding his hand out, and she stretches her fingers, her feet leaden as she drags her body forward. He smiles encouragingly, curling his finger to beckon her closer, his other arm spread wide to reveal his surprise. 

The trail ends abruptly at a sidewalk that leads to a house very similar to her parents’ old place (“They moved years ago,” she thinks), a house that was definitely not there before Dean pointed it out. The front door stands open wide, welcoming, as a sleek, black muscle car pulls up to the curb out front. Her eyes track the car’s approach, and she registers the name “Winchester” on the mailbox. 

Breathing suddenly becomes very difficult.

As she watches, a couple slides out of the front of the Impala. Kimber’s eyes widen in shock as she recognizes herself and Dean, though not older as they are now. Younger, maybe just a few years out of high school. 

But that’s not right, she thinks, her eyes flicking to seventeen-year-old Dean standing before her, urging her closer still. We’re not...we’re in high school, we aren’t grown...

The Dean before her holds his hand out silently, waiting as she struggles towards him. So close! she thinks. The voice behind her, so familiar, calls her name again, but her mind is foggy, distracted by young Dean and the phantom scene before her.

The couple embraces next to the car, blissfully unaware of their audience as Dean sweeps Kimber off her feet and carries her up the walkway. As they disappear into the house’s interior, she can hear her other self squealing happily as the door swings shut.

“I...can’t…”

Dean smiles at her, that sweet, just-a-touch shy smile that won her over so many years ago.

“It’s my dream, Kimber. We could still have it, if you want?” His eyes, so earnest, beg her to take just one more step. “Take my hand. It’s not too late for us. I’m right here.”

“Kimber, stop! Listen to me!”

She almost turns, the voice behind her is so desperate and beseeching, but Dean shakes his head. His smile widens, and he opens both arms to her, offering himself fully. 

“It’s our last chance. Come to me, Kimber. This can be ours, sweetheart. You and me, just the two of us. Just take that last step. You can do this.”

She wants to, so very badly. Her mind pulls towards Dean, smiling and hopeful, and she wants with almost every part of herself to take that step, take his hand, and live happily ever after.

But deep in her heart, she knows none of this is true. The Dean before her left, no matter how unwillingly, and she hasn’t heard from him until yesterday. Neither of them are seventeen any more, and this dream was never possible for either of them, no matter how much they wanted it.

“No...no...you’re not…”

He frowns, his expression suddenly cold, alien, and absolutely furious. His features harden, and he turns to her completely, squaring himself and giving her his entire focus. 

“Come here, Kimber. Take the damn step. Now.”

“No!” She doesn’t know where this reserve of strength is coming from, but she welcomes it. The fog begins to lift from her mind a little, and she manages half a step backwards.

Dean’s lip curls in a snarl, and she wrenches herself away, fighting to move in any direction but forwards. She throws herself back, expecting to fall, hoping the leaves will cushion her, planning to roll away.

Instead, she finds herself supported by strong arms that flood her senses with immediate relief. Something is jerked from her hand, and the autumn scene complete with the monstrous teenage Dean vanishes. The wind whips Kimbers hair in front of her face, and she looks down to see…

Nothing.

Arms pull her back from the edge of the building, and she chokes on a scream. Her self-defense training kicks in, and she throws her head back, trying to catch her assailant’s nose. 

“Kimber, it’s me! I’ve got you, don’t fight!”

It takes a second for Dean’s voice to register, and by the time she realizes she’s safe, she’s already planted her elbow square in his gut. He releases her with a pained wheeze, doubling over, holding up a placating hand towards her. She realizes in a detached sort of way that she is breathing way too shallow and fast, but she can’t seem to stop.

“Breathe,” he wheezes at her, trying to straighten up. Something about the ridiculous sight of Dean telling her to breathe when he can barely pull in his own breath cuts through her panic for a moment, and she almost laughs. Her head whirls, colors starting to blur together. 

From the view and the drop-off, she guesses they’re on the roof, though she’s never been up here before. She looks to Dean as her vision tunnels and a rushing noise fills her ears.

“Dean...Dean, you were...what did I…you said it was…”

Dean struggles upright and takes her face between his hands, forcing her to focus on him. “Breathe, honey. You’ve gotta breathe right now. Can you do that for me? Breathe with me. Slow, deep.”

She struggles to imitate him, and her lungs finally unlock enough to let in a reasonable amount of air. 

“Kimber, I’ve gotta burn this thing. I don’t know if it can affect you from a distance. Just...here. Sit down right here. Keep breathing.” She drops where she’s told, lowering her head between her knees as she focuses on counting her breaths. 

She can just make out Dean on the edge of her vision, crouching down. He pulls a lighter out of his pocket, flicks it, and lowers the flame to something on the ground before him. The object lights up with a whoosh of flame, and Kimber gasps as a searing bolt of pain flashes through her entire body before vanishing, leaving her feeling weak and shaking but finally, finally, back in control of herself.

Dean rises, stalks back over to her and drops to one knee, his fist pressing hard into the gravelled surface. He glares at the ground, his jaw clenching in a way that she’s glad is not directed at her. His nostrils flare, and his face flinches as he reaches some decision.

“I should never have let you go on your own. I’m not letting you out of my sight again until we gank this son of a bitch.”

She shrinks under the burning intensity of his words, and he closes his eyes for a second, wrestling with control of his anger. He holds a hand out to her, and she almost recoils, remnants of the vision burned in the back of her mind.

But this isn’t some sinister phantom leading Kimber to her death. She knows exactly who this is, and she trusts him implicitly.

Dean’s entire body relaxes when her palm touches his, and he drops his forehead to their joined hands. When he finally looks up at her, his eyes are green flame.

“I almost lost you. You were so close, Kimber, you were on the edge. I...”

He trails off, searching her face for a heavy moment. Without warning, he slides forward, releasing her hand to pull her face to his, kissing her with a fierceness that steals her breath and leaves her glad she’s already on the ground.

…

Chapter 7