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minsyal · 4 years ago

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The Fugitive (Finding Home), Pt. 1

Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Warnings: strong language, Resident Evil-esque violence and descriptions of gore, and dark/sexual themes

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime trip turned dark. You're quickly exposed to the sinister and mysterious world of a cursed village under the control of dark leaders. How long will you last and will you ever return home in one piece?

Backpacking through Eastern Europe was not a top priority on your “to do” list. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Being one to preplan everything, you were completely caught off guard when your roommate sprung the idea of the trip out of the blue. You roommate, Jezebel Haine, was your first and only roommate from college onward. All legs, she was one of the stars of the track team but was most certainly not one of the brightest shining ones. She was considerably dim-witted, fanatical, and had a booming over-the-top personality that scared every potential boyfriend who had the disservice of meeting her. There were times, though, that she was rather endearing. Her childlike sense of self and emotional drivers consistently put her at a crossroads between what everyone else was doing and what she should be doing; she was, and always will be, a follower.

After four years of becoming “the bestest of friends,” you had a hard time imagining such a hard shift either into another roommate or living alone. Plus, her parents funded most everything she did and, in turn, funded the apartment the two of you shared.

“It’s an amazing opportunity!” She insisted, waving her hands in a simple manner as she rose from the condensed cushion of the leather-clad couch. “Think about it.” Gathering your hands in hers like a 20’s actress who had just met the man of her dreams, she pulled the bundle to her chest. “We frolic through the European countryside, it’s golden hour. My skin looks absolutely gorgeous… yours too, of course. The sun is just about to set, but alas!” She let out a dramatic gasp, removing one of her hands to cover her mouth. “It’s growing dark out!”

“That’s what happens when the sun sets.” You noted, causing her to drop the act for a moment only to immediately go back into character.

“We hear the crunching of leaves and twigs all around us as if something…” she drew close and lowered her voice to a whisper, “sinister is coming. Out of no where we’re ambushed! By what, I’m not sure. Then,” her eyes became glassy as she lay a delicate hand to her forehead, “two absolute studs… and I’m talking big bulging muscles, gorgeous trendy hair, captivating eyes… really everything a simple girl could ask for… seemingly drop from the sky! We’re saved!” She throws your hands into the air as if they’d fall like confetti. Drawing both her arms in, she sways back and forth in a waltz of one. “We’d be married by the next day! Hell, maybe we’d even end up as princesses.”

Oh, how utterly wrong she was.

“I told you this was a stupid idea.” You groaned, haughtily holding your chin up while feeling your spirits low. A few miles back, on an asphalt road that quickly turned to dirt, sat the dingy red rental truck with a blown out engine and a deflating tire. With no cell service and the last town being over 100 miles back, your only choice was to walk.

“Don’t blame me!” Jezebel stopped walking, feet falling flat to the ground as she stomped her foot in a childish manner. “I,” her lip quivered as all the anger held in her body dissipated, “I just wanted to have a fun time with you.” Big tears flowed from her eyes quickly after finishing her proclamation, leaving smearing black lines down her face from the eyeliner she insisted was necessary in the Romanian countryside. God, if her parents weren’t funding this trip, you’d throw a fit for your money back.

“Jess, just,” reaching backward, you fished a rag from your backpack, “don’t cry. That’s not going to make this better.” Sniffling, she accepted the rag and wiped her eyes, further smearing black all over her face. You couldn’t help but feel a shred of sympathy for her. “Let’s just keep going. No use in wasting daylight. I really don’t want to get caught out here in the dark.”

“Where are we supposed to go, then?”

“I’m sure the next town will have some sort of inn or hotel. At the very least, they’ll have directions to the nearest city.”

After another five miles of walking, the sun was beginning to set and no gorgeous studs were waiting to save you. The blazing yellow ball inched slowly beyond the horizon. Its warming rays that had kept the snow from freezing the two of you in the day crept down below the snow peaked mountains that were nestled in the distance. Shadows began dancing between the trees, sending the forest into a theater of silent performers. The dirt road that was once large enough for two cars was now only a walking path so slim that Jezebel had to follow on your heels. Every now and again you were reeled back by the piece of rope that she had attached to your backpack that was firmly gripped in her hand. She claimed it made her feel safer.

“You think those two hunks are going to come save us now?” You joked, attempting to make light of this dark situation.

“I wish.” She huffed, frustration evading her voice as exhaustion took center stage.

Flickering light caught your eye. Hues of yellow and red mingled together in the distance, the outlines of rooftops and smoke-filled chimneys littered the ground below. “I think that’s a village.”

Another mile of downhill travel was all it took to reach the place where the once distant flickering of torches and lanterns grew into the quiet streets of a cluttered settlement. There was no clear indication of movement once you stepped foot in the village; the only evidence of any life came in the form of fresh boot prints, livestock, and the ever-blazing lanterns. Jezebel was all to happy to release your makeshift leash from her fingers, trotting mindlessly by to examine the street corners and homes. Your eyes continued wandering up the rooftops, finally landing upon the eerie looming castle situated on the mountainside above.

From around the bend, you heard Jezebel screech.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You threw caution to the wind, quickly rounding the corner to scold her like a parent would to a misbehaving child. “You don’t know if these people are violent or not. We can’t just go parading ourselves into the town center.”

“I think they’re violent.” She mustered the shaky words. Her hands covered her eyes and the majority of her face as she backed away from whatever had caused her distress.

“What?” The unpleasant squelch of snow beneath your feet caused your attention to draw downward. Dark snow surrounded your boot, an unnatural red hue stained the pure white. Gaze moving upward, your chest restricted feeling as if it had crushed inward on itself. The putrid smell finally fell upon your nostrils as you backed away from the scene. Severed animal heads hung lazily above you, their tongues flopping from their opened mouths.

“I want to go home.” Jezebel sobbed, rasping her cries into her cupped hand. Shaking her head as if to knock this moment from her brain, her short-lived façade of curiosity gave way to her immediate feeling of impending dread.

“That’s what I’m trying to do right now, Jess. Just, calm down.”

A low grumble had you standing further on edge, if that was possible at this point. The sound was clear as day and was anything but human. You weren’t even sure a human could get to an octave so low without the help of technology. Eyes darting upward once more, a chill ran from your shoulders to your toes.

Hauntingly yellowed eyes lingered upon the two of you. The beast-like figure was silhouetted by the moonlight, outlined like a ghost. It looked to be a man, but also anything but a man in the same sense. Its mouth was parted, baring old rotted teeth that looked to have dried blood caked between its gums. Its hands were bloodied as well, small cuts were painted across its forearms only hidden by the rags that clung to its chest.

Before you could process the situation, Jezebel let out another yelp. In an instant, the beast lunged down from its perch, landing with a ground shaking thud nearly five feet before you. “No!” Jezebel’s open palm collided with the space between your shoulder blades as she pushed you toward the monster. The last thing you saw was her backpack falling to the ground as she began running toward one of the homes. You landed face-first in the snow, groaning as all the air in your lungs were forced out. The beast snarled, once again showing its teeth as it hunched down to your level. This was, most certainly, not the way you envisioned dying. Things like this weren’t supposed to exist; this is myth, this isn’t real. It all felt like bad dream gone worse that you couldn’t wake from.

“Pesky creatures, aren’t they?” A new voice called out as the horrendous sound of metal crushing bone and muscle slithered through your ears. The disgusting feeling of gore instantly trickled down your hands. “Please,” the voice continued, “feel free to thank me anytime.”

A moment later, the stranger let out a scoff with the squishy suction of whatever he had used to quiet the monster. The tap of a boot on your elbow finally prompted you to uncover your eyes. “Or don’t.”

“I,” you started, opening and closing your mouth multiple times unable to find the right words, “thank you.”

“Oh.” He tiled the stiff rim of his frayed hat back, exposing a pair of circular sunglasses perched upon his nose. “Foreigners, eh?”

“Yeah, um.” You gathered yourself, finally pushing up to stand on your feet. “We got lost.”

“And ended up here, no doubt.” A stifled chuckle left his lips as he tilted his hat back in place and swung whatever he used to kill the beast over his shoulder. “If I were you, I’d get the hell out of here.”

Without another word, the stranger sauntered off with a backward wave of his hand. “Oh, and have someone clean this mess up.”

“Y/n!” Jezebel’s shrill voice called as she returned with a rather confused villager. He held a shotgun with both of his hands, Jezebel shone a flashlight in your eyes.

“Are you okay?” The villager moved forward with extreme caution after peering around you dumbfoundedly seeing the crumpled body.

“I’m fine, no thanks to her.” You spat, anger swelling in your throat causing a particular acidity to your words.

“All of you! Inside this instant.” A matronly holler came from behind Jezebel and the villager. “You know Miranda’s protection only runs so far as we grow closer to this time.”

Who is Miranda and, more importantly, who was the man who saved you?

The home you were ushered into was on the outskirts of town. It was one of the larger estates given the fact that some people seemed to live in one-room shacks. Upon entering, you were greeted with the warm glow of yellow light trickling in from what looked to be a formal living room. The sweet aromas of honeyed tea wafted through the air, drawing further in as the woman led the three of you deeper into the home. What was worse? You pondered. Being killed by that beast or potentially being murdered by the inhabitants of this home? You couldn’t decide. Thus far, the two gave no indication of malice.

“Please, sit.” The woman pulled out two of the chairs at her table, the wood scratching against the floor. “I’ll fetch the tea.”

Jezebel was so brainless. She smiled at you as if she hadn’t just offered you up as a midnight snack. Surely there was no hamster running on that squeaky track that powered her.

“What was that thing?” You turned to the man who was now seated to your right. “The monster.”

The man ignored your question, instead grabbing a piece of rounded bread from the plate at the center of table. Slathering butter on it, he looked to you. “How’d you kill it?”

“I didn’t.” You frowned, recalling the mysterious man who saved your life without even dropping his name. The villager raised his brows and kicked his foot up on the table. He was waiting for more information. “Some man came out of nowhere. He had some hammer-like weapon.”

As soon as he processed the words, his foot fell from the table and he leaned forward, uncomfortably close. You could smell the distinguishable bite of alcohol percolate from his lips. “Did he wear glasses? A hat?”

“He did.” The words slowly drifted from your mouth. “Hair to about here.” You motioned to the halfway point of your neck.

“Adelina,” the man called, presumably to the woman who guided you inside. He got up quickly, rushing to the other room leaving you and Jezebel alone.

“What the hell is going on here?” You whispered in a harsh tone, leaning forward to get closer to her. “Is this not weird at all to you?”

“I think they’re nice people.” Jezebel responded at full volume without a second of thought.

“That’s coming from someone who tried to feed their supposed best friend to a monster.”

“I was buying us time to get help.”

“Help? I almost died!”

“But you didn’t.”

“When we get back to the U.S. I never want to speak to you again.” You seethed. How could she be this bad? You knew there were a few… a considerable amount of screws missing from Jezebel, but how in God’s green earth does she justify her actions at this point? The thought of it accompanied by her dazed and empty stare only fueled the fire of anger more.

“Dear,” the woman, who you now knew was Adelina, reentered the room accompanied by the man with a tray of cups and a kettle in her hands. She set a delicate china glass in front of you, softly filling it with a reddish colored liquid that she assured you was Celestial Seasonings, a tea imported from Africa. “I hear that you’ve met Lord Heisenberg.” Placing a hand over her heart, she gave a warm smile that only sent another wave of dread through your body. There was something so alluring about this woman, yet so sinister.

“Lord, who?”

Adelina stiffened, craning her neck to the side as she plastered a forced smile upon her lips once more. You had upset her, that much was obvious. “One of the four Lords that rule here alongside our dear Mother Miranda.” She explained, pushing the cup of tea closer to your body. Jezebel had already finished her first glass. Warily, you lifted the cup in your hand and allowed the warm water to heat your frozen body. An elongated finger pointed to the framed painting that hung to the wall. “Mother Miranda protects us here.”

Mother Miranda. You could only focus on the image of the woman silhouetted by six black wings and a halo outlining her head. Her eyes were indistinguishable behind the raven-like mask that clung to her face. Adorned in a black garb, she looked to be a holy figure in this town. But like Adelina, something just wasn’t right with Miranda.

The unsettling reverb of crickets and cicadas chirping grew louder and louder with each passing hour. You counted the seconds between waves of mass chorus; so far, it was roughly thirty seconds between each bleating scream of their nightly tune. You couldn’t sleep. Despite the somewhat comforting, but entirely unsettling welcome given by Adelina and Marion, you couldn’t help but feel like a caged animal in the tiny cupboard room they had given you. A curious thought tickled the back of your mind, willing you to remain as alert as possible after an exhausting day of hiking; where had they put Jezebel? Not that you particularly cared at this point. After the attack she had done a 180, dropping all suspicion of malice in this village. She simply flushed the pictures of hanging heads and wild beasts from her memory. You sometimes envied her lackadaisical memory accompanied by a fanatical view of the world. Living blissfully ignorant, especially in a situation like this, seemed to serve her best.

After a small dinner of fish that smelled of ammonia, of which you politely picked at, Adelina insisted the two of you stay the night. “The beasts will return!” She exclaimed, holding a firm hand over the intricately carved wood of the doorframe. “Early tomorrow we can arrange for a car to pick you up from the next town over.” Hushed murmurs climbing up from the cracked floors pulled you from your thought. The voices spoke in an incomprehensible argument.

“I’d quite like to keep...” the words faded in and out.

“No, no, no. Don’t be ridiculous...”

“What if....”

The floor spoke a soft squeak from beneath your feet as you shifted to get closer to the voices. Their conversation stopped, and you waited with bated breath for it to continue.

“We have to offer someone up tomorrow.” It was Adelina.

“I know, I know.” Marion sounded frustrated. “But you know Mother Miranda prefers only the purest. How are we supposed to know if either of them are-”?

The words faded once more as the two moved from room to room. Walking on the sides of your feet, you followed. Peeking around the corner, your eyes landed on Adelina and Marion illuminated by a flickering fire. They stood close to one another, keeping their tones low.

“Clearly, we offer the frumpy one. Take a look at her. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s unexperienced.” Adelina snickered, taking a seat on the worn couch with her back to you. “She wouldn’t fit in here anyway.”

“The dumb one would get along nicely with our son.”

“I agree.”

A knock at the front door sent a shiver of adrenaline down your spine. Quickly scrambling to hide, you took in a deep breath as Marion passed by with his shotgun in hand. From the parted door, you could see the sun barely peeking over the horizon. Had it really been that long already?

“Are you sure she’s pure?” The new man stood in the doorway rushed past Marion, looking in the direction of the room they had put you in.

“I suppose we could check.” Adelina called, rising to join the others. “The both of them had that tea. They shouldn’t wake until the ceremony later today.”

“Is she in there?”

“Yes, the other one is upstairs.”

“Let’s check this one first.”

With heavy footsteps falling upon the rotting floorboards of the somewhat dilapidated home, you slunk further into the shadows of the room behind you. The glint of something metal caught your attention; a small handgun sat perfectly on a dresser as if set there intentionally for you to find. Holding your breath, you crept forward to it. You’d never shot a gun in your life, but you knew the basics... both hands, check for ammo, rack the slide, pull the trigger. At least, that’s what the movies told you.

“Out of bed so soon, are we?” The soft voice turned malevolent as Adelina appeared in the doorway of the room. “I wouldn’t use that if I were you.” She motioned to the gun that was aimed rather unskillfully for her chest.

“What the fuck is going on in this village?” You spoke with purpose now, tone wavering slightly as Marion stepped behind his wife.

“You don’t understand things around here, girl.” Adelina spat, moving aside as Marion began charging into the room. The loud blast of the gun echoed from the walls of the home followed by a harsh curse and the sound of a body crumpling to the floor. You had shot Marion in the leg; he’d live.

“No,” you started, re-racking the slide as Adelina’s other friend approached wielding a similar gun to your own. Adrenaline washed over your nervous system, your hands shook violently, but you attempted to remain composed. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. This isn’t normal! Tell me what’s going on now or,” your eyes trailed down to Marion who was attempting to control the flow of blood from his wound.

“You wouldn’t.” She laughed bitterly.

“Like hell, I wouldn’t.” You exclaimed, training the gun onto her. “Now tell me, what’s happening here.”

“You’ll understand soon enough.” Adelina’s friend’s words were the last thing you heard before your ears rang and the sting of a bullet burnt white hot in your shoulder. You weren’t sure if your gun ever went off again.

Despite being tied, bathed, dressed, and currently sitting on a freezing alter-of-sorts, you still hadn’t the slightest clue as to what was going on. A crowd of villagers surrounded from the south, all carrying on with a rumble of conversation. Adelina shot daggers at you, Marion as well, from a small, inclined hill at the edge of the crowd. The clothes you wore were your own, she had fished through your backpack claiming that it was of no use to waste a nice dress on “someone like her.” Jezebel was likely still fast asleep at their house.

A woman with the likeness of the framed photo you had seen appeared out of nowhere. So, this was the famous Mother Miranda that everyone regarded so deeply. She stood before you as the crowd’s voices hushed and their eyes became hazed with looks of admiration and devoted appreciation. Surely, she was a human, deities and gods didn’t exist in a physical form, you assured yourself.

Without a word, Miranda moved gracefully as if flowing across the ground to stand before Adelina. Taking her face between her hands, she whispered what you assumed to be praise as Adelina’s lips moved rapidly thanking Miranda. She then moved to Marion and grazed her hand against the wound on his thigh, speaking of how his steadfast devotion would quickly heal any injuries of cruelty spread by evil. When her attention finally fell back to you, she frowned. Stalking around you in circles, Miranda’s imposing figure made you want to shrivel to nothingness.

“Thank you.” She turned to the villagers as if to dismiss them. “When the time comes, I will return for another.”

The black wings you had seen in the photo sprouted from her back, shielding your sight of the villagers as they retreated to their homes. Hopeful cries and shouted blessings to Miranda echoed from the crowd as the village gate slammed. The only evidence of them once populating this empty square were flowers and offerings of fruit and grain left for the supposed goddess.

The world swiftly darkened once more.

Part 2 - Paths Meet

I promise there's more Heisenberg in the next part..

Feedback is always appreciated

#karl heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #resident evil village #resident evil heisenberg #re8 heisenberg #heisenberg imagine #lord heisenberg

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bokuroskitten · 4 years ago

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𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱’𝔰 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔰𝔎𝔦𝔯𝔱?

〈you really didn’t mind being the nanny for Daichi’s kids, not when it came with perks.

✮ genre: NSFW 18+ (MINORS DNI)

✮ warnings: Dilf Daichi, daddy kink (daddy title used), age gap, use of handcuffs, spanking, oral (m! receiving), face fucking, creampie, slight breeding kink, cockwarming, spit <3

✮ word count: 2.8

❦ shout out to dilf Daichi, who takes up all the space in my brain

❦ huge thank you to @ohno-otome @oneblonded @rosesandtoshi who took their time to beta this for me, please give them love and appreciation.

“You little slut. What if my kids had seen huh? The fact that you’re not wearing any panties under this little skirt?”

“I’m sure they didn’t notice, but you sure did, huh Daddy?”

You were a cheeky little thing, that was for sure. Daichi had never expected this sort of outcome, not with you, the sweet university babysitter he hired. But there you were, asking for it with that shit-eating grin on your face.

It had been just Daichi and his kids for quite some time, him and the three munchkins. Mom didn’t stick around when she fell for her boss. A businessman, much older and much richer. Daichi had gotten over it, as best as he could. He had all he needed with his kids, who were always full of contagious happiness. But it was tough, being a single dad and working as a full-time cop. When the night shifts started to roll around Daichi took it upon himself to find a suitable nanny.

Which was how the two of you met. You were in university and desperately needed the extra money for the looming student debt. Looking for jobs wasn’t the easiest thing, but what was easy was saying yes to Daichi’s offer. He was willing to pay you more than minimum wage for nights, even offered you the spare room if things got too late or you had class early the next morning. Plus his kids were angels. They got along with you almost instantly, clinging to your legs or begging you to stay longer than your allotted shift time.

Plus, Daichi himself was nice to look at, but you tried your best not to focus on that point.

You had been working for Daichi for a while now, it was almost routine for you to attend volleyball practices, dance recitals, or even just dinner picnics. The kids loved having you around, and all Daichi wanted to do was to see them happy. But that’s when he noticed it, the one day the family had gone to the park. You held the hands of his two youngest, while his oldest showed off the bug he had found hiding in a nearby bush.

It was the way you smiled at them, the way you squeezed the girl's hands a little tighter when they cringed at the bug. The way you bent at the knees to take a better look, and the way your pretty summer dress had risen up just enough for Daichi to sneak a peek at the cotton panties hidden underneath.

Daichi wasn’t blind. In fact, it had been a long time since he indulged himself in a partner. Never enough time, or never willing to bring them home to the kids. But you, you already got along with his babies so well. You took your time to take care of them, even take care of Daichi when you could. Cleaned the house before he got home, ironed his uniform on his night shifts, even brought him coffee when he had early mornings.

So that’s how his glances turned into stares, his roaming eyes turned into winks. The hugs you shared lasted a little longer, the hand he would place on your back would slide a little lower.

He could still remember the very first move he had made. You had fallen asleep on the couch, curled up in one of his sweaters. The kids were put to bed long before, but you always waited for Daichi to return before taking your leave. He had leaned in close, allowing his lips to brush over your forehead. The gentle motion had caused you to stir, tired eyes lazily blinking open to be met with honey brown.

“Why don’t you sleep here tonight?” Daichi had murmured, staying close considering you didn’t push him away. You on the other hand felt your heart beating hard against your ribcage, the smell of his familiar cologne making you feel a bit dizzy. The feeling of sleep slowly faded, replaced with the hazy feeling of need.

Need for him, for anything and everything as long as it was him.

“Can I sleep with you?” It had slipped out of your lips before you could stop yourself. You panicked for a moment seeing his shocked expression, ready to blame it on the tiredness. But there was no need when he pressed his lips against yours when he scooped you off the couch and easily hauled you up into his bedroom.

That was only the beginning. The two of you found yourself kissing in the bathroom while the kids played outside, Daichi having you warm his cock during family movie night. The first time you had whimpered out Daddy while he had you bent over his lap was still engraved in his brain. The longer the affair went on, the more playful and lust-filled it became.

So that's how the two of you ended up here, now.

Daichi had you pinned against the counter now, palm pressed against your head to keep you down while his palm slowly rose up your thigh. He groaned when his fingers slipped under the short hem of your skirt, reaching the swell of your ass only to find no panties there.

“Course I noticed, with how you were bending over all over the place, anyone coulda seen this slutty little ass.” His words were husky, pushed out between gritted teeth as he squeezed the plump skin of your ass. You whined at him, face flushed as your hips wiggled into his palm.

That only made him strike down on your skin, his palm open as the spank clapped throughout the room. “Slutty girls don’t get to be greedy like that. I think I need to put you in your place, is that it? Have you lost all your manners, baby?”

You tried to shake your head, nod, do anything. But your brain was already foggy as Daichi brought down another spank, making the skin of your ass pulse. “Want your cock, Daddy.”

“Oh, yeah? And your way of asking was prancing around with no panties on?” The third slap was the hardest, and this time on your bare flesh. He had bunched your skirt up at your waist, making you jolt from the sudden slap to your skin. His hand print was already forming when he rubbed the cheek, a low hum leaving his chest.

“You’re just like the kids huh? Thinking you can get away with anything if you’re cute enough. Not in this house. You should know that by now baby.” His voice sent shivers all the way down to your cunt, the wetness already threatening to dribble down your thighs. “Hands behind your back.”

You tried to question him, but the fourth spank had you yelping, reminding you that his words were a command and not a request. You felt the cold metal click around both your wrists, a blush rising on your cheeks when you tried to pull your hands away only to find them stuck in place.

“Daddy’s gonna teach his pretty baby what happens to bad little girls looking for attention.”

You were hauled over his shoulder before you even had a chance to complain. Daichi had no problem carrying your squirming body up the stairs, your whines and complaints falling upon deaf ears. When he closed the door to his bedroom he put you on the ground, which only made you whine more as he approached the bed without you.

“Daddy—“

“Get over here.” He explained calmly. His muscles were tense, but his face showed no emotion as he sat on the edge of his bed. When you made no move he rose an expectant brow. “We don’t have all day, would you rather I fuck my fist—“

“No!”

Interrupting him, another act of disobedience that made his brow twitch in distaste. “Get over here.” He repeated, this time his voice a bit deeper, more serious.

You didn’t waste another second, scrambling over on your knees. It was difficult with your hands cuffed, but you made it between his thighs. You were about to press kisses against his thighs before you felt him grab a handful of hair at the nape of your neck. When he cranked your head back you yelped, shoulders slouching at the look he gave you.

Cold.

“Open your mouth.” There was no hesitation this time when your trembling lower lip opened up, tongue poking out. Daichi tsked, grabbing the end of your tongue and pulling it out further. Tears pricked your eyes at the action, drool uncontrollably slipping out of your mouth.

“Being shy now, are we? How can you act so modest when you aren’t even wearing panties.” He spat a wad of saliva on your tongue, his lips twitching in a grin as he watched your eyes flutter, a little mewl leaving your hung lips. He slowly released your tongue but kept his grip on your hair tight. “Don’t swallow. Keep that tongue out.”

You were trembling a bit, trying your best to keep your excitement at bay and hold his spit on your tongue as he unbuckled his slacks. He pulled the belt out in one smooth motion, pulling the material far enough down that his cock could spring free. When it slapped back against his abs, you clenched your thighs together tightly.

He wasted no more time guiding your head onto his cock, pressing it down until your throat bulged, until you gagged, until your nose was nestled in his trimmed pubic hair.

“Now, I’m gonna have to wash this filthy mouth out. Fuck some manners into your throat huh?”

He thrust into your throat without pause, his hand continuing to hold you steady as he fucked into your mouth. The tears were already spilling from your eyes, drool freely bubbling past stretched lips as Daichi used your mouth as he saw fit. He pulled out just until his tip stayed lodged between your lips, groaning at the way you desperately tried to suck in air through your nose. You were already coming undone, and it was so beautiful to watch.

“Crying over a little punishment? You’re such a little bitch.” He waited until you began suckling on his tip, attempting to whine around it before pumping it into your mouth again. He kept one hand against your throat, pupils dilating in feral desire every time he felt it bulge under his fingertips. He didn’t last with a pace like this, his hips stuttering when his release wracked over him hard.

“Swallow every fucking drop, you’re gonna need it to wash out that mouth.” He grunted, holding your face down as ropes of hot cum slipped from his pulsing tip. You shook around his dick, throat clenching so desperately as the hot, sticky substance slid down your throat, feeling warm all the way down into your belly.

Daichi pulled out with a pop, one that had you sucking in a shaky breath. When you blinked the remaining tears from your lashes you lulled your tongue out, showing him a clean surface that had him humming in approval.

“Looks like you are good for something, huh, taking all my cum down your throat.”

Using the grip in your hair he easily hauled you to your feet, watching the way you stumbled face-first into the mattress. Your face was a mess of spit and drool as you looked up at him over your shoulder, hips rutting into his soft sheets. “D-Daddy...”

“D-d-daddy” He mimicked, flipping your skirt up and tucking the hem in at the waist. He wasted no time grabbing your hips, pulling them up for a better angle. “You’re a big girl, use your words.”

You had to compose yourself, mind already going blank as he simply spread your ass apart, getting a better look at your arousal. “C-Can you fuck me please? Need your cock Daddy..”

“Now if you had just asked me like that before, none of this woulda happened Angel...” He sighed it out, two fingers slowly sliding up your puffy slit to collect your slick. He rubbed it along his cock, even though it was already lubed up with your spit. “I don’t like when you misbehave you know that baby girl.”

His voice had already gotten softer, making your cunt flutter around nothing. When he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your clit you mewled, nails digging into your palms as the cuffs clinked around your trembling wrists. “Gunna say sorry to me hm? Wanna hear you say it nice and pretty.”

“Sorry Daddy, M’sorry” it spilled from your lips, words slightly muffled by the sheets as he rubbed his tip over your slit. “Won’t do it again Daddy, just wanna make you happy, want your cock.”

“I know sweetheart, you’re such a good girl for me, even when you decide to be a little cheeky.”

He began to press into you, slow and steady. He wanted to feel all your little dips, all the bumps and spongy spots he loved so dearly as he bottomed out within you. Your mouth hung open in a little ‘o’, back arching so his tip could tap against your cervix when he finally bottomed out. “Fuck, love this perfect little cunt, still squeezes me like the first time.” He growled out, fingers reaching for the cuffs. He gripped them tightly, used them as leverage for when he began to fuck into you.

It was slow and deep, each thrust meant to press his tip into your sweet spot. The pace had your eyes rolling back, babbles spilling out of your hung lips in a dumb little mantra. It didn’t even make sense, Daichi knew that, but he just loved to hear you. Loved hearing you whimper and ramble about how you loved his cock, about how daddy’s cock felt so good, about how you wanted to be no ones but his.

“My good little girl, takin' my cock so well. Gunna fuck a baby in here one day, would you like that Angel? Wanna be the mommy to my beautiful kids and our own?”

That had you squeezing his cock, a low groan vibrating in his chest as he picked up his pace. The slap of his hips against your ass echoed in the room, your cries of delight being muffled into the sheets. Using his grip on the cuffs he yanked you forward until your back was pressed into his chest. He stuffed two fingers between your lips, having you both moan in unison.

“Keep milkin' my cock just like that baby girl, gunna fill this little cunt and then fuck right back into it so we don’t lose a single drop.” You babbled a ‘yes daddy’ around his fingers, head lulled onto his shoulder as he thrust into your cunt. It was pulsing around him, building up a pool of arousal in your abdomen that was so close to snapping. When his free hand snaked to your clit, rubbing deep circles into it had you sobbing, hips humping frantically to meet his thrusts and chase your release.

“That’s it...” Daichi murmured by your ear, his breath thick and hot as he snapped into your ass. His finger slid from your mouth instead, only to grip your pretty throat. “Cum sweetheart, cum on my cock yea? Wanna feel you cream on me.”

And you did just that, with a silent scream and a jolt of your body finishing around his cock. That final squeeze of your cunt around him had Daichi moaning, his thrusts messy and uncoordinated as his own high ripped through him. His balls twitched as he emptied another load in you, hot cum making goosebumps form all over your skin. He slowed his thrusts, his fingers pressing light taps into your clit now as you rode out the high together. He watched as his cock got coated in a white sheen, the shine of your mixed arousal making him bite his lower lip.

“What a good girl...” He huffed. He reached between you two to release the safety from the handcuffs, allowing them to fall to the bed with a clank. He was gentle as he laid the two of you down, a mess of limbs and sweat as he stayed balls deep in your cunt.

“Gunna stay just like this. Keep you nice and plugged.” He reassured, one palm smoothing over your tummy as he pressed kisses into your shoulder. “At least until the kids wake back up, gotta make sure Daddy’s cum stays inside, isn’t that right baby?”

“Right Daddy,” you murmured out, blissed and fucked out. You could have fallen asleep, just like that with his dick still buried inside. But you knew the kids would be up in thirty minutes from their naps, so you’d enjoy this time while you could, being full.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu smut #hq fanfic #haikyuu headcanons #hq smut #sawamura daichi #daichi sawamura #daichi smut #daichi x reader #daichi x y/n #daichi x you #daichi x reader smut

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rattyoakenbitch · 4 years ago

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youtubers: “don’t touch her” ₊˚ ⸝ corpse husband x reader

❝i don't wanna think about, think about you. drink up, drink up i'm so fucked up, all i want is you.❞

gif credit: n/a song: lykke li - sex money feelings die

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

pairings: corpse husband x reader

warnings: angst, cursing, drinking, smoking, violent language, and minor mentions of anxiety.

summary: i can’t make summaries rn hhh just read it (:

“Sean, there is no way in hell I’m going!”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. It’ll be fun!”

“That’s what you always say!”

“Ugh, you and Corpse are so stubborn. At least I was able to convince him to show up! You know what you need? To get out of the house more often and come hang with us.”

“Uh huh, yeah, y’all have fun, I got some stuff to finish.”

“Yeah? Like what? Your ten hour nap?”

“HEY! Excuse me -”

“7PM, [club address], you’re showing up.”

“Sean - !”

With that, Sean hung up. You let out an exasperated huff, crossing your arms and pouting like a toddler who was just denied a toy. You were invited, or more accurrately forced to celebrate whatever the hell Sean and his friends achieved. With lives like theirs, it seemed like there was always something to celebrate.

You, on the other hand.. Well, you were just little old you. You met Sean by mere chance. It’s a very long story, but you shared some things in common, like your love for video games. However, that was about the only thing you could relate to with Sean and his little friend circle. You were more passionate about writing, as well as reading short horror stories.

Now, that’s where you clicked with Corpse Husband.

He was an underrated YouTuber, whose main uploads were narration videos on creepypastas and horror stories. That’s until he blew up with his Among Us gameplays, collaborating with big names like PewDiePie, Jacksepticeye, and CrankGamePlays (EEF!!!).

You met over an Among Us stream with said YouTubers and immediately hit it off. You shared a dark sense of humor, love for horror, and music. You knew of Corpse before, but only then did you discover that he produced music, which you absolutely enjoyed (and blasted in your house for days on end).

When you found out you lived not even twenty minutes away from each other, you’d occasionally meet up, mostly at his house considering he only went out once in a blue moon. You’d sometimes even spend the night at his place, staying up late, gazing up at the stars, getting deep into conversation and opening up about things you never blurted out to people. But when you were with Corpse, everything just came naturally. You felt safe with him, and hopefully, he felt the same.

Night approached, the clock striking 5PM. You figured you’d get ready since Sean was dead set on you coming to the party. You showered, did a minimalist glossy makeup look, and chose an outfit, which consisted of a half neon green and black skirt that stopped mid thigh, and an oversized distressed band tee which you tucked into your belt. You slipped on a pair of ripped, striped thigh-highs with mismatched colors, (white stripes on one and neon blue on the other), and your platform boots that made you look like a Bratz Doll. You didn’t bother with your tangled hair. You teased it with a brush but didn’t put any effort into styling it, since it’d get messy anyways. To finish your look, you clipped on a choker and dangled a couple of layered chains around your neck.

Corpse would tease you, saying you had a “dog collar”, but you knew he secretly liked it.

All dolled up and ready to go, you hopped into your car and followed the GPS to the address Sean sent you. Drunk couples stumbled out of the club, dates headed inside, and old wasted guys were thrown out. Oh boy, you were not ready for this.

You were the anxious, anti social type. Not because it was edgy or cool, but you simply didn’t know how to handle social situations. However, it comforted you to know Corpse would be there by your side so you didn’t need to chat and flirt with strangers.

It’s not like you wanted to meet anybody new, anyways. Though nobody was aware of it, you had feelings for Corpse. Cliche, right? You knew you shouldn’t have, but you developed feelings for him. It made you feel strange and weird, considering you haven’t caught feelings in a while.

You came up with the bright idea of slowly drifting away from Corpse to maybe help de-escalate these feelings, but you were going to run into him at the club, so what the heck.

You headed inside, your eyes scanning the crowd and pushing through, searching for your friend group. You spent a couple minutes cluelessly looking around the club, but to no avail. Then, it was as if a light bulb clicked on over your head; you never thought to phone Sean.

“Ugh, I’m so stupid.” You reached into your purse to get ahold of your phone when a pair of strong, manly hands and cold metal which you assumed to be rings wrapped around your shoulders, gripping you tightly.

“Boo!”

You felt your heart stop and ran out of the man’s grasp, spinning around to look at who it was.

“Oh, did I scare you?”

The man’s deep, monotone voice rumbled above the sound of the music and shouts. Then you recognized that unique and distinctive voice.

“Corpse!! What the hell?”

His nose and jaw was covered by a black mask, with a print that looked like Frank from Donnie Darko, which was also Corpse’s signature look, seen in his channel art.

Despite Corpse being a faceless YouTuber, only very few people have seen his face, including you and Glam&Gore who he featured in his narration videos. You thought he was very handsome, his baritone voice matching his appearance. You had to admit, you were a little disappointed he chose to wear a mask. You loved seeing his facial expressions, especially his precious smile that would light up the room when he’d let out little fits of laughter. But you got over it and respected the fact that he wanted to remain anonymous.

“You dickhead,” you scoffed, smacking Corpse lightly on the shoulder. Corpse towered over you, looking admittedly both intimidating and seductive. If you were a stranger, you’d probably be running off, but you weren’t scared of Corpse. He was a big softie and a teddy bear.

Corpse chuckled lowly, slinging his arm over your shoulder and leading you to Sean’s group. He was protective like that, even if you were just friends. Now you could see why Sean, at one point, speculated that you and Corpse had a thing going on.

“So, Sean forced you to tag along, too?”

“Pfft, yeah, that’s Sean for you.”

“Hey, there’s my favorite couple,” Sean joked, patting your shoulder. You rolled your eyes at his drunk antics.

“Shut up, don’t make me choke you like I hate you,” you mocked in return, eliciting a fit of laughter from the group.

“Remind me to never hang out with you losers again,” Corpse mumbled sarcastically under his breath.

The night went by in a flash. Sean, Thomas, Felix, and everyone else was blackout drunk. Luckily, Mark was there to assist them. Since Mark couldn’t drink, he would be the designated driver that night. Corpse hung out by himself, sometimes getting approached by women who he politely turned down.

You, on the other hand, were downing alcohol like your life depended on it. For you, it would take more than the average number of drinks for you to get wasted.

“Y/N, don’t you think you should slow down?” Corpse questioned cautiously, resting a hand on the small of your back.

“Does it really look like I’m thinking right now?” you drunkenly slurred, following with a giggle. You waved to the bartender, calling for another shot, which he slid over to you, but not without hesitating after noticing your state. You pushed Corpse off of you, probably more harshly than you intended, and took the shot.

“Okay, Y/N, fuck this, I’m taking you to my place. We can’t stay here and you certainly can’t drive back home when you’re drunk,” Corpse scowled, stepping closer to you. Again, you shoved him back.

“No.. No..” You sighed, holding your pounding head in your hand. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what? Y/N, you’re drunk -”

“I’m not letting you of all people take me.”

Corpse blinked. “What does that mean?” He knew you were drunk, of course, and you were probably just blurting nonsense.

All of a sudden, tears escaped your eyes, racing down your blushy cheeks.

“No.. I’m so sorry. It’s my fault.” You began to shake and tremble as tears started to uncontrollably spill down your face. Corpse didn’t waste another second to take you in his arms, hushing you. “Your hugs are so warm.. I hate it. I hate feeling this way. It’s all my fault.”

“What did you do, sweetheart? You can tell me.”

Your heart ached when you heard his pet name for you.

“I think I may like you more than you like me.. I-I didn’t mean to! Please don’t leave me. You’re all I have,” you sobbed into his white tee, clinging onto him. “I love you so fucking much, it hurts. I shouldn’t have!”

Corpse stopped for a moment, processing your words.

You.. felt the same?

Corpse had to tell you. You were drunk, but he needed you to know.

“Y/N, I -”

Suddenly, you had a moment of clarity. Realizing how close you were to Corpse, you backed away, wiping away the mascara tears under your eyes.

“I - I think I had too much to drink.. I just need a smoke..”

Without giving Corpse the chance to protest, you ran off into the crowd, struggling your way through.

Corpse began to get worried when you didn’t come back. He waited impatiently on the barstool where you left him, anxiously playing with his rings.

He was just about to get up and look for you, when he caught a glimpse of you stumbling out the exit with another man who guided you, gripping your arm tightly.

Corpse fumed, his face going red and heartbeat speeding up. He went after you, knowing damn well you didn’t know this man.

The man took you to his car, placing you atop the trunk, your legs dangling over the edge. He stepped in between your legs, caressing your face. Everything was a blur. If your mind was clear, you wouldn’t be stupid enough to trust this random guy, who was probably ten years older than you.

“You’re too pretty to be crying,” he whispered, leaning in closer to your face, until a yell stopped him from proceeding any further.

“Hey, asshole, she’s drunk! Don’t you fucking touch her!”

“C-Corpse?” You hiccuped, hopping off the trunk to get a look at the approaching figure. It was indeed Corpse. His eyebrows were pressed together angrily at the sight.

“You know this dude?” the man said loudly and smugly, just to get a reaction from Corpse. “Relax, my man, I’m just tryna take this pretty girl home.”

“Well this pretty girl happens to be mine, and I won’t let you take advantage of her,” Corpse growled.

You stood by the stranger, clinging to him as you watched Corpse’s face twist into an expression of heartbreak when you didn’t budge. He then noticed the bruises around your arms and wrist, supposedly from the man’s strong grip. He was unbelievably furious.

“Ha, doesn’t look like she’s your girl anymore.” The man’s lips twisted upwards into a devilish smirk, only pissing Corpse off some more. Oh boy, was he ready to snap. He reached into his pocket, when..

“Wait,” you managed to slur out, breaking up the argument. You reached out towards Corpse like a child. His facial expression immediately softened. He gave you a loving smile and immediately took you into his arms, holding you protectively.

“Now, I suggest you get in your car and never come back,” Corpse threatened.

“Oh, yeah? Or what? I’ll kill you and take your girl, you motherfucker!”

Without hesitation, Corpse took out his switchblade, looking the man in his eyes.

“Say that again?”

You watched as the stranger’s whole tough act fell apart. Without another word, he ran to the driver’s side of his car, fumbling with his keys.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Corpse mumbled, not taking his eyes off the man until he reached his own car. You held his hand the whole way, processing what had just happened. Corpse noticed your distant expression. You got into his car, shutting the door and slumping back into your seat. He tore off his mask, taking in deep breaths to calm himself. Then he looked back to you.

“Princess?”

You looked to Corpse, your eyes teary. “Hey, Corpse.” You didn’t seem to be as drunk, your mind a lot clearer after the incident. “D-Did you mean anything you said back there? About the..”

“About you being my girl?”

Corpse took your hand in his, squeezing it comfortingly. He leaned forward and cupped your face with his free hand. “Absolutely.”

With that, you leaned towards him, hesitantly pressing your lips to his. Your lips tasted of alcohol, but Corpse didn’t care. He was admittedly taken back, his breath hitching, but he released the tension from his body and kissed you back, pulling you over to the driver’s seat atop him. There wasn’t much space, forcing you to press closer to Corpse, deepening the kiss.

Still being a bit drunk, you were clumsy and kind of ‘out of it’.

“I’d hold onto something if I were you,” Corpse mumbled, breaking the kiss momentarily to guide your hands to grip his shoulders. But you were impatient and reconnected your lips with his, no doubt causing him to blush even more than he already was.

You couldn’t help yourself and giggled into the kiss, causing Corpse to chuckle along with you, departing from the kiss again and resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry, you’re just so fucking adorable when you giggle.”

You hummed in response, offering Corpse an innocent grin as you pecked all over his face.

“I’m so glad you’re mine.”

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beevean · 4 years ago

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SEGA and its most recent Sonamy side – more canon than ever

[Translator’s note: this article was originally written in Spanish by @latin-dr-robotnik]

Hello again! Today we’d like to discuss about something that’s been happening recently, and probably taking Sonic fans by surprise: what is going on with SEGA and its stance about Sonamy?

At the beginning of this year, to celebrate the 200 articles on Seaside Hill Paradise, I finished what I call “the Sonamy trilogy” of articles that I started in 2018 and which cover different themes, such as:

SEGA and the eternal issue of the Sonic-Amy dynamic

“I love you” – Forbidden words in Sonic

SEGA and the eternal issue of “Sonic’s girlfriend”

The idea was to offer a more-or-less complete analysis about the many facets of their dynamic in the last 27 years; a dynamic that, you may have noticed, is not that easy to pin down, and that we’ve been updating almost regularly (although I also intended to investigate on other dynamics, like Knuckles and Rouge’s for example, and write about them). Generally speaking, in these articles I don’t draw objective conclusions about the status of the ship in canon (despite the fact that the available information tends to confirm it in various occasions). I also like to repeat myself and say that shipping is supposed to be for fun, not for tearing each other’s hair in that black hole of misery that is Twitter, but recent events left us slightly perplexed, and this is why we’re here once again.

We left the status of the Sonamy canonicity with these two peculiar instances back in August: Sonic mentioning his “girlfriend” in the Japanese version of Sonic Battle, and the Twitter account of SEGA of Europe saying Sonamy is their “favorite videogame romance”. Now, let’s recap a bit…

Sonamy in Sonic IDW... Round 3

[SPOILERS ALERT FOR IDW SONIC #14-#35]

In 2018, when IDW just started, I decided to study a little how the Sonamy dynamic worked in this new universe. To our surprise, the comic didn’t waste time in dropping its biggest bomb, in one of the cutest scenes we had seen in ages. Since the very beginning, IDW proved that it didn’t intend to deceive those fans that looked for a bit of development of both characters.

I wrote an article about it in June 2019, and it coincided with the beginning of one of the most infamous arc I’ve seen in a Sonic comic for a long time: the Metal Virus Saga. The question is, what has happened since then?

Well, in 2019, with the same accuracy of an aimbot, I said “We’ll probably see some new interactions between Sonic and Amy sometime around IDW #20”. And wouldn’t you know, as misery and tragedy settled in that arc, it was exactly around IDW #20 that we saw some Sonamy interactions: both exhausted, to their limit, with a Sonic that couldn’t even touch Amy to soothe her pain, due to him being infected with the virus.

The arc developed like this in what felt like an eternity, to finally conclude in one the most absurd ways in Sonic history. But it wasn’t a complete disappointment, as, after months and months of asking and discussing on the internet about how much Sonic and Amy deserved a hug at the end of the arc… it actually happened.

Since that moment in IDW #32, we shippers thought that it was what both of them deserved after so much time spent separated and pushed to their limit to survive, but also that after the end of the arc everything would go back to normal. However, what we didn’t know was that the Sonamy train had no intention of stopping, not in IDW, nor anywhere else.

A recurring detail in IDW Sonic is that Amy’s tail starts wagging every time she sees Sonic, as if she was a happy dog. I swear, it happens every time.

Come IDW #35, once again we have some hugs and bits of dialogue between our hedgehogs. For sure, the question here isn’t their relationship itself, as it was for IDW #2, but rather the issues this arc is slowly dealing with. But it’s really nice to see them again, sharing that closeness that they’ve had in the comic since the beginning– be it with some gestures of affection, a wink, a gesture, a private joke.

My favorite image is the first one, Belle’s reaction to seeing Amy hugging Sonic. It’s like she’s thinking “oh, is she his girlfriend?”, and she wouldn’t even be wrong in thinking that.

It can’t be denied that IDW Sonic provided us the conversations and the emotions that the games seldom do. Certainly, the comic has its share of issues and it’s not really a story that I personally follow for its own merits (it’s more because it’s still Sonic, for my interest for things like this, and Belle’s existence… whom I already ship with Tails, sorry not sorry), but what it does well it does really well.

For now, we have to see how IDW Sonic will follow the development of the characters, especially in view of the closure of the current story and beyond. And we may be done with this part of the article, but there is still a lot left.

Sonamy in merchandise

Taking us completely by surprise, recently SEGA launched, in collaboration with Hot Topic, a series of Sonamy-themed t-shirts. No, seriously.

So many people told me this as soon as the voice spread (you know who you are, thank you guys for thinking about me <3), and I can’t help being still surprised that this is actually a thing. T-shirts with lines like “You’re my favorite”, “Love in the fast lane”, and my personal favorite, “S&A Forever”, with drawings of Classic Sonic and Amy… in SEGA-approved products. I don’t know if you realize how much of a big deal this is, even more than “Celebrate the 25 years of Sonic’s girlfriend” from 2018.

One of the things that surprised me the most (aside from how explicit they are in officializing the relationship, and the fact that there are still 2 months left before Valentine’s Day 2021), was the decision to use Classic Sonic and Classic Amy. I tried to understand this decision by analyzing the simplicity and easiness with which the Classic designs convey a message (let’s not forget that Classic Sonic was so iconic because it was specifically designed to convey his expressions without words), besides the fact that they’re inherently cuter than their modern designs. There’s also the controversial aspect of post-Adventure Sonamy, with all the dubbing and weird interpretations that the fandom made over the years… By comparison, the Classic design are a much simpler choice.

What is actually going on?

Well, let’s take a step back and think about what we just saw. The way SEGA has been recently trying to push Sonic and Amy in front view (and for the entirety of 2020, based on the articles I mentioned in the beginning) tells us the harsh truth we all have to accept sooner or later: Sonamy sells, and it sells a lot.

From a strictly business point of view, the ship is so iconic and popular, with fans and detractors alike, that it would be absurd for SEGA to ignore the chance to print these two characters and get a load of money. As I said in my 2018 article, despite the fact that in Japan Sonic isn’t as big of an icon as it is elsewhere, they know pretty well that Sonic + Amy = love, and they have huge amounts of merchandise to back it up. It’s in the West that because of different cultural values, of which we’ve already talked about, along with some internal resistance, left this aspect of the franchise a little on the side. But they’ve been trying to fix it… and how…

Let’s not forget that a decade and a half ago Sonic Team seriously favored Sonamy. They officially said it, Sonic X was their purest view of Sonic they had at the time.

Outside of the business perspective, I believe we’re facing the moment that we’ve been waiting for: it’s time they’ll establish once and for all the dynamic of these two characters, following more closely the original Japanese vision of Sonic. I said many times that, in trying to change canon, the West, especially SEGA of America, did nothing but confuse fans and generate more discussions than needed, by introducing different data and portrayals that contradict the canon established by Sonic Team.

We’ve talked about Unleashed and emotional support, about Sonic X, about the major moments that opened the door to interpreting this dynamic as something more. We don’t threaten at gunpoint those who would rather stay away, but we respond to those declarations that still try to violently discredit the simple fact that Sonic and Amy, who are most of all close friends, form in some measure a couple that, even with its imposed limitations, manages to captivate fans and not fans everywhere in the world. Even the Simpsons used it as a joke, and that says a lot.

What the future has in store for us.

Unless something else happens in this last month of 2020, this is the most complete compilation I can offer at the moment about the status of Sonamy in the fandom and in the official canon. Yes, canon.

It’s impossible to ignore the signals. As you may have noticed, I’ve been considering Sonic and Amy as an official couple, with its clarifications (for example, that at the end it’s more of a friendship, that it’s not a romantic relationship in the most explicit way, that it’s more of a personal perspective to justify a more mature vision of the relationship in the future, not right now), but nowadays I think that SEGA has spoken loud and clear. I think canon is ready to negotiate the idea that Sonic and Amy, apart from being excellent friends who would risk their lives for each other in a heartbeat, have something else on their hands (probably the other’s hand). This won’t automatically translate into a kiss, or a complete love declaration (although Sonic X came close…), or a commitment to a formal relationship like we know them in real life. SEGA canon affirms that Amy is “Sonic’s girlfriend” and nothing more. Outside of that detail, they still pretty much function as friends interacting with a little flirting here, and a little Sonic running away there. It’s the basis of their dynamic, now enhanced by the fact that SEGA is giving us a clearer message.

I think that this all may culminate in a game or an animated series, but I wouldn’t completely count on that. It is good to recognize how far the official position goes on this issue, but at the same time I want to reaffirm that there are things that are better left in the hands of the fandom, and in the meantime that IDW or any other continuity gives us hugs, winks, gestures and words of encouragement, we as the fandom will take care of exploring other avenues and hypothetical scenarios.

This is all I have to say on the matter for now, and I hope you’re happy with this wonderful Sonamy experience we’re going through – I certainly am. See you next time!

#sonic the hedgehog #sonamy #amy rose #translation #long post #whew #this one was a doozy #but super interesting #thanks again latin for writing these long ass sonamy posts

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heli0s-writes · 5 years ago

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Eat the Rich*

Summary: You’re just a girl in a bar way above your tax bracket and Ransom really doesn’t care for what you’re wearing.

A/N: There are no spoilers for the movie. But, there IS... Smut. Dirty talk. Class warfare in the form of hate-fucking. 2.9k words of FILTH. I need to be exorcised for this. Thank you @evanstarff and @tropicalcap for sending me straight to hell.

The entire lounge seems to turn when you enter. Eyes slide back and forth your way, mid-conversation mouths dipping into low frowns. Amidst the old-money frat boys from Cambridge, Beacon Hill Barbie socialites, and Downtown business young bloods, you’re a flagrant contrast in ripped jeans and an old hoodie.

A favorite hoodie. An incendiary hoodie.

The kind of hoodie that is worn with pride around these West End parts. Even the group you arrive with tried to hackle you out of it— bachelorette party decorum, they cried, will you please take that thing off?

Your cousin might be marrying Silverspoon Asswipe and stringing herself up pretty next to all his call-girl friends, but you are a Jamaica Plain girl through and through and you will not stuff yourself into a glitzy cocktail dress before this hoodie.

She waves her hand at the hostess to distract her from your outfit, rustling the satin sash over her glossy sweetheart neckline, “Reservation under Prentiss; it was booked this morning?” And then a sharp look at you as if to say, you made the reservations, right?!

Duh. Your eyes respond when the hostess begins to lead your party back. You follow the tail end of the throng, veering off towards the bar; the miasma of Chanel perfume is enough to gag, and the cigar smoke is only a tiny bit better. Not like they’d care or even notice.

“Do you have PBR?”

The bartender stutters and before you can make him any more uncomfortable, a deep voice from beside you nips it in the bud.

Broad shoulders turn until you see his face. Amused, with a single raised eyebrow, mouth just barely tilting up at one corner. Mid-thirties and extremely well-groomed. Slicked back brown hair and classic Ray Bans hang from the collar of his sweater. Too handsome for his own good with the unmistakable swagger of someone grown up filthy rich.

“She’ll have the Glenfiddich. Neat.”

Certainly smug enough to butt in like you’re old friends.

“Will she?” You ponder defiantly at the pursed lips nestled over a strong jaw.

His own thick crystal glass is easily tipped into his mouth when he takes a too-large swig. Signet rings on two left fingers glimmer, and with a low exhale bordering a growl, he hisses through his teeth, “Yeah. I think you will.”

Bold blue eyes roam over your top and the statement printed there for a second before he scrutinizes your face. Then, purposefully—and knowing that your eyes are on him-- he looks back down to the swell of your chest.

A hum of approval before he faces forward again, only giving you his side profile.

“Wow,” you scoff, “Dick.”

The grin that splits his mouth for a second looks angelic if angels could be full-grown men with full-grown egos to match. “Close. It’s Ransom.”

Amber sloshes when the bartender returns, and you chance a sip because even your pride isn’t stupid enough to pass on a free glass of Glenfiddich.

The whiskey bites for a second before rolling smoothly down your throat. There’s an inherently superior taste to these luxury drinks, but you pull a face all the same, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. Ransom chuckles, head turning just a tad as he looks to you from the corner of his eye.

“You making a statement with that thing on, or what?”

“You’re the one making a statement with that ladies wool scarf from Drake’s.”

Ransom jerks to you fully now, attention snatched by your wit as he leans in, “Where’d you come from, little girl? Not everyone walks into Carver’s dressed in rags.”

He really is a piece of work. When you tell him your neighborhood, as expected, he snorts with disdain, but his eyes fall back on you again, highly intrigued. “There’s more to you, isn’t there? My scarf, that attitude. Someone taught you a thing or two, didn’t they?”

The single-malt mouthful is singing in your veins and if your confidence was thinking about simmering down for a second, it’s forgotten itself inside the furious swirl. The hand around your empty glass clutches just a tiny bit tighter.

“Oh, come on,” Ransom waggles two fingers for another round, “Let’s see, I’m thinking… blue-collar parents, siblings, maybe with shared rooms in your dilapidated Jamaica Plain home?” A tap of his finger to that pink bottom lip too damn pretty to be on his wretched face, he pretends to mull a thought over.

He looks you up and down, taking just enough time to where you feel violated under his gaze, “I know: Public college. Two-year community. Working a day job in Back Bay made you bitter, didn’t it? Hence, statement piece.”

“Asshole,” you snap, unraveling at the seams with rage, and the bartender quickly flits away again, “Full ride to Northeastern, four years with honors. Back Bay can’t fucking afford me.”

You don’t know how he does it, but his derisive silence incenses you even more. He couples it with a slow flick of his tongue over teeth, flagrant staring, and the piercing blue of his eyes spotlight a trail—across your shoulders, down your arm, jumping from your fingertip to your thigh, and then it dips between.

Every inch of your body prickles alive with reaction, so naturally, you spit, “Fuck you.”

Ransom’s smile grows until it nearly looks genuine, but then the sharp points of his canines sink right into your gut.

“When?”

There is something ugly and incredible simmering behind his thick curtain eyelashes. A clear ocean grows stormy, sizzling like a cruel tempest rushing to life. The yellow gaussian blur from dim scone lights suddenly cast shadows over his sharp nose.

He slaps too many bills on the polished ebony and the swish of his scarf flicks over your knee when he stands. Ransom towers over you, light pink flush of inebriation and excitement growing hotter on his sculpted cheeks. He leans in, the open flaps of his overcoat falling around your shoulder, threatening to swallow you inside all his dark.

Low timbre and dusky spice goads, “Put your money where your mouth is, scholarship; that sweater’s not all talk, is it?”

Dick!

Big hands yank the hem up over your head for a second before something changes his mind. The heavy steel door is latched twice over and he’s pushing you into it with his imposing frame. Your skull hits the metal as his knee parts your thigh, leg shoving itself up in-between until you’re on your tip-toes, with nothing to do but land on him. The heat of it rushes all the way up to the top of your head, pouring from your mouth in a choked mewl.

Ransom rucks the top over your breasts until the words scrunch up at your collarbones and you think it must bring him some masochistic satisfaction to know their unforgiving glare:

Eat the Rich

His warning chills your spine.

“I’m gonna fuck that line from your brain. Fuck it right out.”

He yanks everything south of your waist to your ankles and pulls himself free from his pants, effortlessly tearing a condom from inside his leather wallet and slipping it on. Between the time he gets your bare ass on the counter and the sound of the rubber snap, he’s already branded a purple streak onto the side of your neck and you’re embarrassingly wet.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you see his length rising from beneath his cable-knit. Bright pink and angry, and so goddamn thick it makes you whimper. Ransom smothers it with his demanding and hungry mouth, impatient at being empty, stinging with whiskey and force. He’s probably never waited on anything in his life and within a short fifteen minutes of meeting him, you know that to be true.

Not a care in the world is given as goosebumps break out all over your arms.

He spins you into the sink countertop and then the two of you are staring at each other in the mirror’s reflection. His hands return to your hips with a bruising clutch and those thick fingers begin to rub the slick between your folds all over your thighs. Fucking A-- It’s good. Idiot rich boy does have the Midas Touch.

One long leg kicks your jeans completely off, sole of his shoes stomping all over them. He’s unforgivingly large and he knows it because everything about Ransom Drysdale is a statement: his clothes, his attitude, his dick. There’s a joke in here somewhere about him being the very epitome of it, but he’s glaring at you with that pretty bottom lip stretched between perfect white teeth and maybe you can forgive the fact that he’s leaving boot marks all over your jeans and bruises in the shape of fingerprints on your back.

“Tell me,” he teases, slipping one finger in, the metal of his ring pressing up against your clit, “Tell me you’ve had it like this before.”

A slow roll of his hips against your ass, letting the weight of his cock pressed hot and tight between his body and yours. You find yourself inching higher, micro-movements attuned to his, staring but unseeing at his face, buzzing with the raw need to be clenching around more than one finger.

“Not like this, not off Glenfiddich, in Jamaica Plain…”

And without thinking, because there isn’t much to think about, you hiss, “Oh, fuck you!”

Ransom chuckles into your ear because your voice breaks just a tad and he’s going to win this fight. Claws and teeth out sharper than knives, he bites down on your shoulder and slips in another finger. The distinct sensations—soft, slippery, strokes and the sting of his teeth—are scrambling your brain.

He grips himself tight, pushes in with uncharacteristic restraint, and you’re so desperate and aching for it all you can do is push back and pray the sound you might be making isn’t loud enough for everyone in the damn place to hear.

You stifle a grunt with his next languid stroke and Ransom raises an eyebrow, “What? You suddenly shy now?”

It might be just a restroom, but it’s one of the nicest places you’ve ever been inside. Carver’s cigar room’s private single occupancy nook and he’s usurped it to screw you senseless. As if reading your thoughts, he rolls his eyes and continues, glaring at your half-lidded reflection.

“Who gives a shit?” Then, another smirk, “If you’re gonna scream, get my name right.”

Your belly is quivering from the pressure, holding yourself together as best you can before he takes you to pieces. The grooves in his rings cut into your skin. His hand squeezes your neck, fingers crawling up your chin to shove inside your mouth.

Like everything else he’s ever wanted in his life, he’ll own this, too.

And then it’s only punishment. Ransom twists your hair around one fist, other forearm pressing like an anchor on your sternum, wrist shoved through the neckline, hand splayed open and clutching your throat and it goes nearly all the way around. The reflection of your panting mouth and bouncing breasts matching his every thrust is lewd and vile and so goddamn good.

“I bet you fuck on top, don’t you, scholarship?” He releases your throat to pinch your cheeks together, tipping your head derisively, making you nod yourself stupid—awful and humiliating but it unexpectedly thrills.

“Bet you’re too proud to ask.” He makes you nod again, “Bet you want someone to fuck you open just like this—all filthy and sloppy—“

And he doesn’t have to make you agree that time, you’re already limp in expectation and your reflection, damn her, she nods.

He’s still fully dressed, coat swaying to cocoon the both of you in what is probably a hundred thousand dollars. His watch, his rings, his fucking boxers. That stupid cable knit sweater.

A yelp leaks out with your orgasm- unexpected and high and quick, like a wounded animal as you tip your head back onto his shoulder. He doesn’t stop, even for a second. Ransom thrusts deeper, and on the cusp of your second undoing, he licks an errant bead of sweat down the back of your neck.

“You got one more. Yeah, that’s right— one more— God, your pussy loves it. Squeezing me fucking good.” He’s sick. He’s sick and Jesus Christ, aren’t you, too? “Yeah. Push back on my cock. Fuck yourself with it…”

He guides your fingers to your clit with his free hand and begins to rub in motions. Your eyes flutter when he breathes into your ear, “There you go, scholarship, you’ll never get dick this good again—so go ahead and be selfish. I wanna see you all fucked out, fucked stupid, coming all over my dick.”

With two fingers sluiced with your spit, Ransom crams them up next to his cock and you can’t believe how he did it so easily but maybe you can. Yes, filthy and sloppy and never like you’ve had before. Your hands grip the counter top so tightly the tips look white and bloodless and the strained coil inside snaps clean in two.

“Fuck! Oh fuck! God!”

You slump backwards, fingertips to toes shocked tingly numb, boneless and empty of all thought, but he holds you up with ease. Ransom shushes your gasps, paws your breasts and fluttering sternum, runs his hand over your face and throat. The pinch of his fingers returns to your cheeks and he drags his other hand from inside your pussy up into to your mouth. Slick and dripping, a little rubbery from the condom, but otherwise just like yourself.

“Well, look at that. Aren’t you just…”

He pauses to view your blissful face, covered in a sheen layer of sweat, head resting on his shoulder, slanted just enough so that the tip of your nose brushes his jaw. A quick laugh, strangely knowing and a bit sweet or maybe you’re imagining it in your delirium, before he turns cold again.

“Make good on your slogan. Get on your fucking knees.”

His hand looks ridiculous, big and strong and wrapped around the best part of him, completely filthy with you smeared over his fist and you slide to your knees, forehead resting briefly on his knee. His pants have fallen around his ankles, boxers still midway, and you’re so exhausted you can hardly do much more than give him a light kiss to his inner thigh—God knows why—before you peel the rubber off.

It lands into the toilet and you obediently stick out your tongue, still panting to catch your breath as Ransom aims toward your open throat. “There you go,” he groans, fisting himself, “That’s it. Don’t let a single drop go to waste.”

And you don’t.

“So,” your old mentor asks, familiar low drawl of his voice crackling with the tone of a lifelong smoker, “What do you think?”

A hum passes through from your end as you think about all the ways Ransom Drysdale Thrombey pulled you apart and in all the ways you’ll probably think about for at least a couple of months.

“He’s exactly who you think he is.” You rock back and forth on your feet near the curb, “Disrespectful…” Scholarship, Ransom’s voice sneers, “Selfish…” Who gives a shit? “Manipulative.”

Well look at that… aren’t you just… And the glimmer of those big blue eyes half-crazed with lust and control, drinking in your reflection in the mirror, makes you clench up right there in the parking lot.

“You think he’s a killer?” Blanc asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” You reply, “Depends. He takes what he wants when he wants it… Could care less if he burns the world down with him. You divine the rest.”

Benoit Blanc’s frustrated sigh is all the response you expect him to give. This case with the Thrombeys really has gotten him all twisted up. He wouldn’t have called you for a favor if it didn’t. Of course, when he asked you to check Ransom Drysdale Thrombey out, he’ll be at Carver’s tomorrow around ten, he probably had other scenarios in mind…

“Well,” he mumbles, “Thanks again. These people sure are hell to be around. Give the new Prentisses my best, won’t you?”

You say your goodbyes and tuck your phone back into your pocket, shifting with a wince when the soreness between your legs throbs again. With a sigh into the dark autumn night, you shove your hands inside the center pouch of your hoodie, keeping your head low but still wary enough to find your Uber.

Ransom left you in the restroom about ten minutes ago, sitting on your haunches, still trying to remember how your lungs work. Right before the door shut, he had turned around and gave you one last smirk, pointing right at your top with glee. “How’d I taste, baby?”

Blanc needs to be careful, not that he isn’t— because he always is, as nutty as his brain works, he is. But Ransom is the only Thrombey you’ve met and if there are ten more of them… Blanc would do good to watch his ass and maybe get some extra help.

A jangle disrupts the quiet when you begin to play with what you’ve taken. Jagged metal edges. Heavy iconic insignia laying benignly in your palm before you tug it out.

Idiot. Good dick or not, an idiot is an idiot is an idiot— especially his kind. Didn’t even notice you slipped these right out of his coat pocket. You swing the ring around your flexed pointer in swift, angry circles, keys clanging together before your hand shuts it up.

With a hard wind of your arm back, you fling the set long into the night, satisfied when it lands behind a building some distance away.

Ransom Drysdale, you think, enthusiastic smile growing on your face as your ride pulls around the corner, have fun looking for those tonight.

Dick!

Ransom tags: @mermaidxatxheart @dumbubblegum @sapphirescrolls @gothambrat @southerncross47 @bubblegumpeeeach @fiercephantasmagoria @saliarheva @amberakawolfie

Perm tags: @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes @crist1216 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @infinity-saga @jamesbarnesthighs @pinknerdpanda @xoxabs88xox @imsoft-barnes @momc95 @typicalangel @wretchedgoddess @readeity @iwannasail @ya-lyublu-tebya @geeksareunique @wildefire @satanxklaus @jhangelface0523 @wkemeup @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave

#knives out #ransom thrombey #ransom drysdale #ransom x reader #smut #fanfiction #reader insert #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale thrombey #ransom x you #eat the rich heli0s

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oh-for-fic-sake · 5 years ago

Text

The Stand In Chapter One

Masterlist

Being an assistant on the witcher set is a dream come true for you, helping bring to life the books and games you were brought up with. But when the project is threatened to be cancelled completely your called in to save the day! But can you really fill in for an actress?

Warnings: swearing

A/N: hello! So this was wrote on a whim sort of. I don't know if Keira is in the books honestly and I have no idea if she will be in season two but I wanted to write somthing different. Got a few ideas of where I can go with this but like I said just wanted to write something a little different. Hone you enjoy xxx

Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters @thatgirly81 @angelofthorr @iloveyouyen

logo divider is by @writeyourmindaway other one is by me xx

You moved through the hustle and bustle of the set your trusty clipboard what was you doing? Well the people needed feeding so you were taking orders, some people onset would eat at the food tent some would want to order in today it was your turn to take the orders and deliver them to the chefs. You grunted looking at your watch you needed to move quicker they'd be filming soon and expect the food to be ready by the time they finished...sounded easy but the guys were cooking meals for nearly one hundred people and that took time... especially out here... You jogged up to the tent with an apologetic smile"Sorry guys had to round em up you know how it is!" You got a few chuckles. Yes they did know how it was having to take turns doing it themselves. You were just a regular onset dogs body, you help in any way shape or form and that’s that.

You smiled at them hanging the clip board on the hook for them to see clearly then They began barking orders to one another down the line getting to work. You left them to it weaving in and out of everyone to get back to set incase someone needed anything again. Once you reached half way across the site your name was called turning you saw Mathew one of the other assistants.

"Hey y/n your needed in the directors tent chop chop!"

"What? why?" He shrugged then through his hands out wide walking backwards away from you he seemed in a hurry.

"Don't know was just told that you had to be there asap" You sighed and quickly turned on your heal towards the tent...If this was another coffee run you were gonna scream! It took forty five minutes to drive down this god forsaken mountain and you didn't really want to be bitched at by camera crew about delivering a cold fucking coffee again.

Henry and Joey panicked looking to each other Cancelled? They could be cancelled after all the fans and money the show had pulled in? They stood in the tent with Tomasz,Lauren and Talitha or 'Tee' as she prefers.

"So she just decided not to do it? A week before she was meant to be here? She had all the time over lock down to tell you and she left it till now?" Tomasz nodded stiffly to Henry who spoke, Henry and Joey were angry. Hell they all was, but them more so because they were actors and this was something you just didn't do. No integrity or respect. Lauren piped up.

"To be fair its a huge blockbuster role she was offered its no surprize she dumped us in favor of it... But now everything is up in the air she was a big role in this season and we can't start casting for it now, the two other back ups can't come and fill in either, one is recovering from covid and the other has a contract for another role." Joey placed his hands on his hips

"Well what about her contract? She sighed one didn't she? Surely she should honor that?" Lauren and Tomasz shared a look.

"Yes but two things one imagine forcing her to play a role she no longer wants...Could be very awkward and two the contract had dates...We couldn't stick to the them so she managed to wriggle out of it." They each huffed Henry spoke up

"Can't we put it on hold for a few weeks rush through the casti-" he trailed off at Tomasz' severe look and shake of his head.

"No we aren't being given an extension we have to find someone...Preferably here on set so we don't have to navigate the covid travel restrictions, we can't afford two weeks quarantine for whoever it is we bring in" Tee looked up to her bosses.

"So?...You need someone on set to take the role? I suppose they can't be a major part of the crew?" Lauren nodded to her and smiled

"You up for it?" Tee shook her head

"Fuck no but there is someone that could do it...Y/n shes a general assistant, the one you like! the one that picked up the wardrobe the other day when the truck couldn't get up the hill" Lauren's face lit up as she put a face to the name

"Oh! lilac bob? Green eyes?" Tee smiled nodding

"Yeah! Her she isn't to busy really just runs errands, shes an extra pair of hands" Tomasz tilted his head it sounded viable, it would be a god send he crossed his arms.

"But she would have what a week? To read up on the character, learn lines and go through costume...It would be a hectic rush would she agree to it?" Tee smiled knowingly

"Yes..She hasn't done acting before...well not properly she had a part in bugsy malone play at primary school but that was about it...But I have no doubt that she would do it she loves the witcher. As for reading up on the character you don't have to worry I dread to think how many times shes re-read those books and played the games...She even based her gcse textiles project on the witcher making a screen print tapestry! Trust me she will know Keira metz' personality so half of the job is already done!" Tomasz nodded secretly getting excited over the prospect of having another fan in the mix, yet he covered it well not wanting to get anyone’s hopes to high."Okay call her in get her to read some lines...Lets not tell her what its for first see if theres some chemistry between the three of you first then go from there" they all nodded it was the best way to go about it.

When you got to the tent you instantly knew something was up. First person you noticed was your best friends Tee it was her who'd got you the job here. She had been working on the first season and was one of the directing assistants she was always around the producers and directors making sure everything was running smoothly and when they top dogs changed things it was her who made those changes get through the grape vine to everyone who needed to know. Then you noticed Henry and Joey were here ,how you didn't see them first is a mystery as they were both fully kitted out in the characters costumes.

Holy shit! He was so fucking hot! So so fucking yummy you wanted to jump him and run away and hide at the same time 'Okay breath don't fucking squeal bitch be cool that's it calm down don't make it obvious you want to hump his leg!...If he offers though ride tat thigh like a fucking pony!...No! Stop your going red! Calm it! There we go...Nice and calm well done give yourself a pat on the back' and breath.

You took a calming breath after your little pep talk the fan-girl locked up tight inside you relaxed slightly. Could you help it? No Henry is like your celebrity crush and has been since your little virgin eyes saw him fucking on Tudors. You'd seen him around set obviously you can't really ignore the huge man in the silver wig. You’d wanted to get his autograph and a photo but couldn't trust yourself not to do something stupid so you kept your distance. But damn he was much finer up close in person. You gulped just praying to god you did not squeak at him you'd never ever live it down.

Everyone looked on edge even the director Tomasz and producer Lauren? none of them noticed your arrival speaking in hushed tones to one another like they didn't want anyone to overhear what was happening. You cleared your throat placing a hand on one of the metal supports by the entrance of the tent unsure if you should enter with them all looking so serious you didn't want to hear anything you shouldn't.

"Err knock knock? you wanted to see me? If its a bad time I can come back..." they jumped a little obviously caught up in their conversation. You shrunk under everyone's gaze as the sets of heavy eyes rested on you.

Henry's eyes widened a little at you he swallowed dryly peering at you from his spot in the tent. You were beautiful he suddenly found himself hoping you would be the one to take the role. Not only could he then have a reason to be around you without you running off. But there were sex scene between the two characters and as ashamed as he felt he had already spent a considerable amount of time envisioning just that, alone at night in his trailer with nothing but his fist to ease his needs. He couldn't help it he had never spoke to you but he wanted you. So selfish or not he would thoroughly enjoy enacting those particular scenes, the image of you below him was just to much.

Joey prodded him slightly making him snap his gaze away and turn to the 'bard' He raised his brows at him nodding to the lilac haired woman as if to say 'look who it is?' Henry flushed a little and blinked yes Joey knew.

It started when Henry had seen you around set, capturing glimpses of you he had wanted to go and talk to you. Each time he saw you around he would excuse himself from whatever he was doing and turn to make his way over to you. But every time he turned and took a step in your direction you flushed and bolted.

He did like you. He liked very much. He found out you were an assistant someone to run errands and Tee had got you the job he was meant to ask her about you but you both seemed close. What if Tee told you? What would you think if you found out he had been asking about you?. So no instead he bit his tongue and kept trying to catch you out and have a chat. He couldn't put his finger on it you just appealed to him, you looked sweet and sexy all in one.

He wanted so desperately to talk to you but you seemed scared of him for some reason so he in the end he settled for admiring you from afar. He'd never got more than six feet near you and that six feet was close enough to make him swoon. You had been diligently taking coffee orders around the set and was taking a list from the directors tent and he was waiting to speak to Tomasz and Lauren queuing behind you in a sense one person separated you.

You were so caught up in trying to take names and coffee orders you hadn't noticed him hovering behind you. He had leaned to the side taking full advantage enjoying eyeing your behind admiring the taught cheeks hugged by your zebra print workout leggings, you must have been in a thong because they snuck up your ass a little making him groan. He'd give anything to be up there himself! He sighed smoothing his hands over his face trying to push away the teasing thoughts, it was not the time to imagine drilling your perfect little ass, fucking you roughly on all fours until your little body sucked the cum out of his balls and he left you with a fully stretched freshly fuck little pucker.

No it was not the time, not when he had another few scenes to shoot. But they were just there! Teasing him a few quick shuffles of his feet and he could be right behind you, he could accidentally graze your pert full bottom. But no he held himself back he groaned when the wind changed and caught a scent of your hair mango and passion fruit.

He had been on a high all day after that. That’s when Joey was certain Henry was getting a little crush on the lilac haired beauty that had gained the nick name Tink's. To Joey you looked like a real life colorful little fairy and he had named you after Tinkerbell. Henry bit his lip trying to contain his excitement, as you cleared your throat nervously today was going from really really bad to absolutely fucking incredible.

You eyed Henry carefully he was..staring well until Joey prodded him then he snapped out of whatever it was flushing. You didn't have much time to consider it as Lauren moved waving you over smiling like nothing was wrong. Okay? Weird.

"No no! Come in your just the woman we needed to see." You walked in slowly still uneasy but managed to cross the threshold. There was a pause and they looked like they were appraising you? What the fuck? Tomasz cleared his throat and nodded giving Lauren the go ahead for something apparently.

"Y/n I was hopeing you could go over some lines with these two, they haven't got anyone to practice with and we really need to start getting rehearsals in. Flights are running few and far between so the actress who was supposed to be here last week, can't get here until we are actually filming the scenes!" You blinked huh? Read lines? You began going shy and shaking your head

"I don't-" but before you could get anymore words out Tomasz spoke up.

"And with covid setting us back we can't afford delays we could be cancelled" you froze at that...Cancelled? You looked to Henry and Joey who both gave hopeful puppy eyes you sighed a shaky breath.

"O-okay I suppose I could...Help out... It is what I'm here for.." You missed the looks all four shared as Joey handed you a sheet from the script. You skimmed it as quick as you could and your face instantly lit up with a bright smile.

"Holy shit keira? I didn't realize you were doing that-" quickly realizing you may have been fangirling you shut up. Tomasz head lifted smiling

"You know the character?" You chuckled nervously well aware of The witcher still eyeing you from the side. Joey smirked at him and gave a chuckle making Henry freeze and look away flustered. You hesitated whilst talking to Tomasz.

"Hehe well Yeah sort of....I know the book's and the games sooo yeah..Sorry...Got excited there..Can't help it" he grinned shaking his head.

"No no its perfectly fine...I do always love seeing people et excited over our work! But you know her so can help the guys immensely. If you could try and portray the character that would help a lot as well, so we can see how these lines and dynamics will work" you blinked looking at the page going blank. Try to in act the scene to? Okay keira what do you remember shes...Playful catty and a little manipulative.Petty but confident yet can switch to cold bitch on a dime. Your not sure our up to the task.

"So? You want me to try and act properly? but...But bare in mind I'm not an actress...Never done any acting or anything so if I'm shit I apologize."

"Its fine, just try your best...We don't want a carbon copy of the games we want a believable character, just create your own Keira for the time being as I said we just want that feeling for the scene and the relationship that's all. If you could read from half way down..'Seriously I mean this is it?' Okay? don't mind the blank we just haven't settled on the last few bits of dialog just keep going...Go with the flow as it were" you nodded taking a breath really out of your comfort zone but it literally said 'help when needed' in your job description so you didn't have much choice. You took a peek at the lines it the scene was based around the camp at night.

Henry and Joey sat on stools you followed their lead really nervous trying not to steal glances or stare at the witcher before you even if he didn't seem to care himself, his gold eyes not leaving you for a second, he wasn't even blinking.

You pulled at the page slightly forcing back the anxiety but sucked it up when were you ever going to get the chance to do this again. To read lines with your crush on set in full delicious Witcher get up.You decided to throw caution to the wind and give it your all if you looked a tit well atleast you had fun and you'd never have to again!

You gulped you were supposed to start. You took a breath and pulled some confidence out of your ass, she was a fierce woman that was almost childlike. You used a sarcastic un-amused flat tone.

"Seriously....I mean this is it? this is the great adventuring? Wandering the continent aimlessly for contract's that may or may not be actual monsters..." you tilted your head to the side blinking slowly as you looked between Henry and Joey. Both seemed to be caught unaware as you transformed from a frightened quivering ball of nerves to a catty confidant sorceress.

Henry smiled cheekily at you knowing that with that transformation you'd already bagged the role, you were his keira.

"Well you are welcome to return to your healing house" Henry drolled in Geralt's deep voice sounding unimpressed tilting his head at you slightly with a bored expression. Joey hummed.

"Yes I second that witch you don't have to be here you can just go your own way" he waved his hand near you and you leaned in giving him a wicked warning grin making him pull back and lean towards Henry, a typical Jaskier move...Well for the moment he was Jaskier.

"G-go and curse children poison or cattle or whatever it is you do" you scoffed rolling your eyes pulling back a little and tilted your head looking at Henry.

"Geralt your Jester appears to be in a foul mood would you like me to help? I'm sure I have a remedy that can silence him for a while...Permanently if you'd like" you smirked as Joey snpped his head looking between the two worriedly.

"JESTER I-YOU I am a bard! And I have made Geralt here the famed white wolf! Tell her Geralt! " Henry rolled his eyes ignoring Joey's out burst

"The Jester is right you don't have to travel with us you can leave, return home if our adventures aren't exciting enough for you. And I'd warn you keep the potions to yourself" you paused the page was now empty. You too a breath and spoke anyway.

"What? Me leave? and go back to treating the lords son and his frequent bouts of cock rot..." the two men bite back a laugh managing to stay in character...Just. You blinked leaning forward placing your face on your palm

"That’s not as thrilling as one might think loses its charm on the third and forth round...Much like the boy himself" Joey sputtered trying to hide his giggles. But contained himself to make an insulting Jaskier quip.

"Cock rot...begs the question do you cause it or cure it?" he twitched waiting for your reply. You hissed at him then calmed yourself and fluttered your eyes at him and continued in a sultry tone.

"Your welcome to find out for yourself Jester" he stuttered going red

"I-i a no hah thank you for the offer but noooo...Had enough of witches for a life time.. Thank you very much!" he said almost choking on his words you leaned back huffing

"Hmm...Shame you almost look like fun could have livened up the trip...I do always enjoy the loud ones..." Joey chuckled and looked to Henry with a face saying 'help me out here buddy' Henry was finding it very hard to keep himself together, was he jealous of you flirting with joey? Yes did he want to turn the tables? Yes could he think of a way to do it? Fuck no.

He settled for shaking his head, he was certain you had the role already and if not he was definitely going to vouch for you,you were good and portrayed Keira well enough to make Joey's Jaskier fidget which Keira did.

"I'm sure you can find fun where ever you find yourself Keira" Henry piped in wanting to see where the scene can go, wanting for you to give him your sultry voice and flirt with him. But you stuttered a little his gaze was intense hot and hooded.

"Y-yes you'd think that!..But there is no fun to be had at home anymore!...Well that's not strictly true there is this one acquaintance a deaf eunuch " Henry spoke up needing to hear the end of this one, trying to fight off his disappointment that you hadn't given him the same treatment as Joey, didn't you like him? Was Joey more your type? No there must be more to it.

"And this deaf eunuch is fun? How so?" you wiggled your eyebrows at him

"Well Witcher he only had one way to show me his gratitude...Any man who only has his hands to speak develops a very....dexterous set of fingers~" Joey slipped out of character confused as Henry burst out laughing. Despite his sour feelings over your non-flirting he couldn't deny that was a funny and well thought out bit of improv.

"Deaf eunuch? F-fingers?..I don't get it-OOHHH!HOLY SHIT YOU DIDN'T! OHH OH MY FUCK" he then started roaring with laughter with Henry making you go shy blushing.

"Oh my god yes...She is definitely the one we need...Defiantly my Keira!" Henry wheezed through his laughter leaning over slapping his knee.

"huh what?" You looked between everyone what do the mean need? It was Tomasz was nodding smiling and spoke up clarifying what Henry had meant.

"That was....Well...It was an audition and you got the part. You became the character very easily it was natural and flowed nicely and you were nervous once relaxed you will make a perfect Keira!" you blinked at him. An audition? For a part in the show "Are you having a laugh? I can't act for shit...Like that was...It was err" Henry smirked lifting a brow

"Acting? Maybe?" You blushed at him as he leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. You leaned back sitting upright then pulled a face. He was right technically.

"Okay it was kind of acting....But why are you doing this here now? Surely you already have someone? this don't strike me as normal." Lauren sighed

"No your right its not normal...The actress who was playing Keira has pulled out we have a week to find a replacement or will are probably getting cancelled they won't let us delay again" you sat up pin straight

"Wait what? An actress bailed on us last minuet...That’s a bit of a dick move... That's like a big dick move not in a nice big dick way either... Like a dick dick move" Henry and Joey snorted at your statement and Tee creased up. Tomasz moved over to you

"I'm afraid so...I know its a big ask but were were supposed to start filming her scenes the middle of next week and we need a replacement. Fast. Sooo what would you say to stepping in and saving the day? you fit the bill and your here now and from what I've just seen you can do it...You gave her a cheeky, petty vibe which in all honesty was missing from who we selected...We can get you ready I'm sure Henry and Joey can help you, teach you the tricks of the trade so to speak" he lifted his head to the both of them. They nodded Henry speaking up

"I can even mentor you if you want, to get you more comfortable... Me and Joey will look after you I promise" you gulped then looked back to Lauren and Tomasz. You'd never even thought of acting or anything and it was daunting prospect.

"Look...We have run into a problem that could potentially bring production and filming to a halt...Something that could cancel season two completely....But you can help us. We can continue as planned but we understand its a big thing to spring on someone .We can afford to give you a few days to think it over if you need to..." you took a breath it sounded incredible, like one of those talent scout tales...Could you do it? You didn't want to see the show go down the pan you loved the first season as a viewer and was over the moon when Tee got you the job onset. You loved the witcher as a whole...Maybe helping bring it to life could be fun? A lot of work and you didn't know shit but you could give it a go. But then you’d be working close with Henry who pretty much turned you into a fucking trembling mass of girly hormones "...But I'm not an actress...I doubt I'd be any good.." Tee snorted

"Fuck off 'not an actress', acting is a big expensive game of pretend! And no offense but you've been pretending to be an adult since we left school! You've got this besides everyone will know your situation so if things go pear-shaped or you get confused we can all help sort you out, we wont scream at you over it..." she moved standing between Joey and Henry squishing their faces

"Come on loooook! Look at there poor little faces! Don’t let Jaskier and Geralt die! If we get cancelled that’s what will happen! These charters will die! I will take them out back and shoot them myself! Never to be seen again!" You giggled at her antic as both men in her grasp tried their hardest to pout up at you with there scrunched up faces. You sighed you were gonna regret this.

"Okay okay fine I will try... But don't say I didn't warn you.." everyone took a deep breath relived. Henry and Joey shared a grin now super excited to carry on with the show. Henry more so then Joey he was ecstatic! He can't wait to start getting close to you.

Lauren moved over to you with some long ass looking scripts.

"Here...These are for you! Start reading through these today...Do one episode at a time for now you'd have more chance learning the lines and you need to go to costume. Tee could you tell them whats happened and get her over there today? let them measure her up luckily it's mostly lace up so shouldn't have to change much" Henry stood up quickly making you jump.

"I will take her and introduce her to everyone...I’m finished for the day so I’m going there anyway" he explained a little sheepish realizing he may have seemed eager. Joey chuckled at him Standing beside him patting the mans back Tomasz shook his head

"Thank you for the offer Henry but we still need you were going to re shoot one of the scenes again, we think there is a better angle we could get" Henry pouted chest deflating a little and nodded to the director

"Right so Tee you escort her , oh where are you staying by the way? In the hotel in town? Well we will need to move you into Keira’s trailer so you'd be onset. Tee could you show her the trailer first then wardrobe and then finally I will pop over with a contract for you this afternoon..." you froze. Contract?. What the fuck? You don't know anything about contracts! Henry caught on to your panic and lit up like Christmas finding another way he could spend time with you.

"Hey its okay...Just a bit of paper saying you've got the job and a bit of legal jargon...I can look over it with you and have my agent look over it if you want? just to be sure everything's good okay? don't worry we will take good care of you I promised didn't I?" You smiled shyly and nodded. 'Holy shit he's looking at you, speak girl stop fucking staring! SPEAK! BREATH!' You took a breath avoiding his gaze a little trying to forget who he was wanting to act cool when you did finally speak it was in a quiet voice.

"I-I Suppose so...I mean yes I'd appreciate someone sorting that out..I get the feeling there are a lot of big words involved" Joey laughed you liked Henry, he could see it and something told him you would both become very close. Well close he estimated you'd be fucking within two weeks. He noted the fact you had both gone quiet Henry's eyes boring into you again as you fiddled with script in your hand. He rolled his eyes you were blushing squirming under the witchers staring gold orbs and he didn't seem to care he was just quite happy to gawk at you. Joey finally decided to cut you so e slack.

"Your not kidding...But like Henry said nothing to bad just a you got the job! And how your being paid really" you chuckled rubbing your neck.

"Fuck! haha you know I didn't even think of that" Tomasz chuckled and nodded. Breaking his silence, he to had noticed the tension between the two of you but would say nothing it wont be a problem after all there was a sexual atmosphere between Geralt and Keira so it would do well on screen.

"Well your an actress now, so of course you'll be paid as an actress, it will be in the paper work, I suggest you go and start reading the scripts Keira is heavily involved in this season she is travelling with Geralt and Jaskier for a while... And a word of advice I'm going to have to take your name to a few higher ups with the video of your audition and names on official websites for the cast will be changed, probably in a day or two...You may want to go and clean up any social media ect that you might have...It could blow up a little bit its...What we are doing is pretty much unheard of" you frowned at him

"You...You filmed that? What? who?" Tee waved her phone up at you gaining your attention.

"Its fine y/n just need it for the records and for a few others to see..." she turned to Lauren

"Might be an idea to put this up somewhere to just to introduce her as the character..." Lauren shook her head

"Not yet get her in costume then a few photos we can film a short teaser scene with them...That can be her debut" Tee nodded and began making a list of things to do then snapped her head up looking at you.

"Seriously change your face book to friends only...And get a fucking twitter on that thought get a bloody snapchat and Instagram to! Okay? life will be easier trust me on this" Henry frowned at you stumped.

"You don't have twitter, Snapchat or Instagram?....No what? How have you? What do you do all day on your phone?" You shrugged and smiled impishly at him.

"I read...Write...Scroll tumblr for hours on end and play games...Never bothered with that social media crap don't know how to use it...Was on tumblr for years before I ever got the courage to post something" Joey smiled taking a step forward and patted your back

"Well at least you have Tumblr which I will want by the way! But never mind about the others I will show you cos your gonna need it!" You smiled at him giggling maybe this wont be so bad? You nodded at him feeling more at ease, it sounded like they were going to help you with all this shit, the only thing you had to do was keep the inner Cavill fangirl at bay, which was gonna be a hell of a job now that you weren't going to be able to avoid him but it was that or watch this show be cancelled and that was not going to happen!. You looked over to Lauren who was still giving Tee a list of jobs and people to contact.

"Okay...So where do I start?" She smiled and quickly stood in front of you as you stood between Joey and Henry both pointing out on the scripts certain things explaining what things meant and how things would work when filming. You nodded trying to take it all in. You took a breath looks like you were doing this.

#henry cavill fic #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x ofc #witcher geralt #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt x y/n #geralt x you

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yerawizardjulia · 4 years ago

Text

Too Rich for a McNugget (Wolfstar)

A university student enters an antique shop in a panic. How do you buy a wedding gift for a cousin you hate?

Sirius wouldn’t have looked twice at the dusty shop if he wasn’t stupidly, desperately late. The high street itself was laughing at him and he was uncomfortably aware of the scrubby guy on the bench that had definitely seen him walk past the same shop window three times in a desperate attempt to see anything other than tea towels and obnoxiously cheerful decorated mugs with ‘World’s best dad’ printed on the sides in Comic Sans. His fingers were slippery in anxious sweat as he pressed the home button on his phone, his iPhone six, another reason his presence would be scorned at this godforsaken gathering. The smudgy screen blinked into life and displayed, seemingly smugly after Sirius’ growing resentment towards the device, 12:42.

Twenty fucking minutes. If he didn’t show up with a gift he might as well not show up at all, an option he would have embraced wholeheartedly if his mother hadn’t pincered him into a corner at their last, regularly depressing routine coffee catch up and told him the deeds to his inheritance were under considerable threat if he did not attend. He wouldn’t have minded, but being twenty grand in debt to an English degree in a rented apartment with black mould creeping onto the ceiling made him reconsider his options.

Fucking Narcissa.

He wouldn’t have been looking forward to the wedding even if she wasn’t marrying a right wing, Eton-educated, ‘can’t control these blasted immigrants’ CEO of whateverthefuck that looked as though he’d never even touched an item of clothing that didn’t come from Armani. It was so typical of his cousin to find a man who deferred so minimally from their shared families’ frankly alarmingly consistent Tory heritage that Sirius had had to do some extensive Googling to confirm that Lucius Malfoy was not in fact, a not-so-distant relative.

A text buzzed in his hand, the little green notification welcome on the screen. At least it was an excuse to loiter outside this shop window for another minute or so without looking like a genuine psychopath.

‘Just get her a toaster or something idk.’

Sirius hadn’t really expected James’ solution to his predicament to be helpful, but his flatmate’s response nevertheless sent the hopeless feeling in his stomach a few inches lower. He had never expected for his future to be balanced on the purchase of a wedding gift, but he would almost prefer to sit his first-year exams, which he had taken with a hangover so severe it felt like he was going to vomit out of his eyeballs, all over again than have to look at this shop window for a second longer. He pictured sitting in a gutter in London, like the tramps that his mother refused to make eye contact with during their trips out during his childhood, drinking from a bottle wrapped in brown paper and thinking; if only I had gone with the luxury jam set. He had discarded the idea after noticing the Tesco’s Finest logo above the barcode, but it was beginning to look like his best option.

Another text. No, a call. Sirius shoved the phone back into his hoodie he was using to mask the aristocratic wedding attire beneath. Keepers of pretentious little shops such as the ones lining this dusty high street tended to bump their prices through the roof if they saw someone of his blood walk in. Old blood. Old money. It was unfair, really, because Sirius didn’t actually have any. If he did, he probably wouldn’t mind paying the exorbitant prices; James spent half his life agonising over how independent businesses were being suffocated by Amazon. But Sirius had nothing to his name until his dear grandparents decided to snuff it. The phone ceased buzzing waspishly in his pocket, and he decided he had better check who he was ignoring.

Typical fucking Regulus.

Probably the only human being under twenty that actually went out of his way to call people, rather than text. He would be there already, exchanging pleasantries in the foyer of the Malfoy’s third manor home. Checking to see whether the Black family disappointment was showing his face, or if he’d have to rely on his six predicted A* grades and brand new Porsche that probably cost more to insure than it did to buy to present himself as the golden child. He’d probably have a stupid little flower in his stupid little button hole. Being a cousin of the bride and a groomsman of the groom, Regulus had firmly nestled himself already into this hideous conjunction of families. He had a job lined up for him in Malfoy’s London branch. In six months, he’d probably have his own office.

Sirius had diluted his shampoo with water for the second time this morning.

He scowled and kicked a bottle cap along the pavement as he stumped, once again, down the row of shops. The circular metal projectile skittered across the tarmac and bounced off a door frame. He stopped, staring suddenly at the sign swinging on a pair of metal hooks like it was a medieval fucking tavern.

Fletcher’s Quality Gifts and Trinkets.

Somehow, inexplicably, Sirius’ eyes had slid over this shop four times as he’d panicked his way up and down this stretch of pavement. There was no window display, that was why. The door fit seamlessly between Bobbin’s Haberdashery and a derelict Cafe Nero. Sirius felt his phone buzz again and suppressed the urge to throw it into the path of the lazy, midday traffic crawling its way up the high street. He stared at the chipped paint and begged silently, to whatever entities may have been listening, that he would find something, anything to take to this fucking wedding.

The door jammed awkwardly on the floor as Sirius pushed it open. It made a juddering, dry squeak, scuffing on the splintery wood. Sirius winced, and half thought about just turning tail and walking out again, going back to pick up that cheap-as-shit jam set. Narcissa probably didn’t even eat jam. Was jam vegan?

He had to push his way in sideways, and as he did so, the door unstuck, swinging open and leaving him standing, pointlessly squashed back against the door frame. Sirius closed his eyes and wondered whether anything was going to go right today.

When he opened them, a guy was blinking at him from behind a checkout desk. A book was open on the surface before him and his long legs with too short trousers that showed a few inches of garishly coloured socks were rested upon the desk next to the till. He removed them hastily to the floor as Sirius stared.

“Sorry, the door- It gets stuck- you have to like-“ He mimed something that Sirius couldn’t even begin to relate to unsticking a door. “Sorry,” he finished, lamely. He bent over his book. Sirius peeled himself from the frame, not taking in the low beams that he would probably hit his head on or the items grouped together in nonsensical piles on the shelves and stacked on the floor.

This guy was gorgeous. He had an odd collection of features that were nothing special, when you looked at them individually- a nose that listed to the left, a thin top lip, a smattering of pigmentation on his cheeks that suggested acne that had been grown out of- but together... Sirius couldn’t stop staring at him. That tawny hair- fucking tawny, who am I, William pissing Wordsworth?- That sharp chin, those long fingers that teased the edge of the paper as he finished reading his page.

He was absolutely, fundamentally, not Sirius’ type. Any romantic entanglements he had had- and granted, it was not a long list (he and James had one sellotaped to the fridge)- involved men so deep in the closet they were practically choking on mothballs. They were footballers, mostly, insecure, ‘just experimenting’. Sirius didn’t know why his gaydar was sounding off so strongly. Was it the deeply uncool granddad jumper that somehow looked like it belonged in Men’s Vogue when draped over his long torso? Sirius was hardly modest about his own looks, but if he tried that jumper on he would look like the kid that forgot his P.E. kit. The same went for the not-skinny, not-baggy jeans that looked as though they were made for literally anyone other than him but somehow, looked really cool and why did Sirius love those hideous socks so much? Did they have pineapples on them?

The guy, seemingly unaware of Sirius lurking behind the shelf closest to the door, propped the book up in his hands, and Sirius read the title- The Picture of Dorian Grey.

Well, there it is.

“IneedapresentforacousinIhatewho’smarryingaguythathasprobablynevereatenaMcDonald’schickennugget.” Sirius was hardly more aware of the words projectile vomiting from his mouth than he was of the way he was sidling towards the checkout desk with his hands wringing in front of him like he was expecting this guy to stand up and shout at him.

Brown eyes emerged from behind the finest work of Oscar Wilde, carrying a look of mild alarm.

“Because, he’s rich, not a vegetarian.” Sirius finished. His mouth seemed a long way behind his brain, but perhaps that was a good thing, because his brain was currently screaming FUCK ME and Sirius was not willing to be barred from any more establishments for hedonistic behaviour.

“A wedding present?” His voice was mild, like Sirius had just asked a perfectly normal question for a stranger to ask a shop employee.

“Uh, yeah.” Why was he blushing? He never blushed. He stepped back needlessly as the guy rose from behind the desk. He was tall. Proportionately tall, with long limbs and a long neck and long god knows what else. Sirius nearly fell to his knees in reverence when the guy cracked a smile that caused a dimple to poke in his cheek and exposed sharp canines that Sirius never considered worth noticing in anyone before but holy fuck he would be now.

“You know what, I think I’ve got something.” He was walking away down one of the dark-ish isles, stooping considerably to avoid the beams and Sirius was trailing after him, awkward and out of place and acting so drastically not like himself he wondered if he had sustained a concussion at some point. Maybe when he was forcing his way through that rude fucking door. The hair at the nape of this guy’s neck curled slightly like he was due a haircut. His trainers were really beat up and old, and Sirius was sure he could see one of the laces fraying and considered whether he should warn him he was about to trip.

“When is this wedding?” His voice was still mild and almost disconcertingly polite; he had stopped and was rummaging among a pile of objects on a shelf-seriously, how was anyone supposed to find anything in here?- and Sirius was still staring at his trailing shoelace.

“Well, sort of now.”

He stood up a bit straighter as the brown eyes widened, and he was looking at him, properly, for the first time and Jesus Christ, how were you supposed to stand normally? Where were your arms supposed to go? Eyebrows, light brown and shapeless and a bit sparse at the ends, furrowed and he let out a small huff of amusement. It was the politest expression of ‘this dude’s a complete disaster’ that Sirius had ever seen. “I’ve been putting it off,” he added needlessly. Something about the way this guy was now looking him up and down as if he could read his life story just from Sirius’ tailored trousers that he’d forgotten to get dry cleaned and his hoodie that was actually James’ and his shoes that looked expensive but were actually from TKMaxx was making him need to offer increasingly poor explanations for his shambles of a life. “I don’t want to go, but I have to, and I hate weddings anyway, but especially this one, and I-‘

The look of curious amusement on the guy’s face- god, Sirius really wanted to know his name- halted his rambling. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “I’m not normally this stressed.”

“That’s okay,” he replied, as if it was his job to tolerate a load of garbled nonsense from strangers, like he did it regularly, in fact, which made him wonder what kind of people actually came into this shop that you could barely tell existed. He was still rummaging through the shelves, Sirius was pretty sure a couple of things had fallen off the back and were now in the dark recesses of the between-shelf-and-wall space where things went to die. God, did anyone ever actually buy anything in here? He found it easier to control himself when the guy stopped x-raying him with his eyes, so he said “er, how long’s this shop been here?”

“Oh, I’ve only worked here six weeks. No idea, ages, probably.” He picked up a remarkably creepy porcelain figure of a shepherdess that was covered with so much dust that at first glance, Sirius thought it was some kind of radioactively-deformed elephant.

“I see what you mean,” said Sirius, staring at the figurine reproachfully. “How does anyone find anything in here?” The questions were not what he actually wanted to ask, which involved something along the lines of are you gay-are you single-are you safe from asbestos in this shop and do you think I’m a complete weirdo. He perked up when the guy let out another polite huff of laughter.

“Most customers have been coming in here for years,” he said, “I don’t see a lot of new people.” His eyes flickered to Sirius and back again and Sirius felt as if he was preparing to dive from a very large boat into a sea that was very cold.

“What’s your name?” Sirius asked, louder than he had meant to. He cringed inwardly and for the second time, considered legging it out of the door when he was once again regarded by a pair of searching brown eyes.

“Remus,” he said. Sirius could tell he was waiting for him to laugh. When he didn’t, because how the fuck could this man get any more attractive, and somehow the name Remus suited him down to his shredded laces, he turned to face him, as if in defiance.

“Hilarious, I know. Remus Lupin, which makes it even better.” Sirius’ resolve cracked at this.

“What?” He squawked, dragging his eyes over Remus again, because he looked like any novelist's wet dream and his name was Remus fucking Lupin... “Mine’s worse.” Sirius said, straightening again. Remus Lupin was rolling his eyes as if in grim acceptance of the barrage of snide jibes that had yet to tumble from Sirius’ mouth, but his eyebrows had disappeared into his hair at Sirius’ response and his arms were folded across his chest, which pulled the loose neck of his jumper down and exposed a few inches of pale sternum.

“I don’t believe you.”

Sirius grinned at this. He cleared his throat and pulled his hand out of the pouch/pocket/thing on the front of his hoodie which was definitely not a secure place for his phone, wallet and keys, and held it out.

“Sirius Black. Pleasure to meet you.” Remus’ mouth had fallen slightly open and a smile was touching at the corners of his lips as he took Sirius’ hand. Sirius was almost surprised that there was no jolt of electricity from all the built up static in his woollen jumper, but his skin was cool and his fingers were thin and twiggy and the knuckles were surprisingly big, and he didn’t drop it straight away, which made Sirius wonder if it was intentional, like a sort of gay signal, and then he remembered the Oscar Wilde book on the checkout desk and stopped trying to look for gay signals.

“Holy shit,” Remus spluttered. The profanity rolled masterfully from his lips; Sirius had never quite got the hang of swearing after his stuffy, conservative upbringing. Remus made it sound graceful.

“What a pair, eh?” said Sirius, and then cringed inwardly again because they weren’t a pair, they were complete strangers but somehow it felt like they’d known each other forever and fuck when did it get so hot in here? He looked at the shelves where Remus’ other hand still rested, and tried to ignore the eyes that were sliding up and down his body as Remus Lupin gave him what Sirius recognised as ‘the gay once-over.’ Dressed in the odd assortment of James’ secondary school football hoodie that had been surpassed by the frankly unnatural growth of James’ shoulders, pretentious shoes and crinkled dress trousers, Sirius was acutely aware that he was not looking his whole and considerable best. Christ, he might even look straight.

“There’s um-you said you might have something?” Sirius said, after another twenty five seconds in which Remus’ gaze had lingered on the rings Sirius had forgotten to take off (his mum would kill him if he turned up to a wedding looking like anything other than a Conservative Straight Man) and then drifted to his hair which was probably fried from all the sweating and running about and cheap shampoo. Remus blinked at these words, and whipped his head back to the shelves as if startled he had been caught in the act.

“Yes! Sorry, it’s-erm-can you hold this?” He plonked a cast iron sewing machine into Sirius’ arms who sagged beneath the weight, wheezing as he tried to lock his knees without Remus noticing. What the hell kind of Hulk body was hiding under that jumper? Eyes streaming, he balanced it on top of a pile of ancient National Geographic magazines and prayed it would not succumb to the inevitable force of gravity. Remus was deep into the recesses of the shelf, standing on tiptoe to reach the very back. His socks were visible again and Sirius could see now that they were not pineapples, but durians. Cute. His jumper was riding up as he stretched to whatever unknown artefacts lurked at the very rear and now it was Sirius’ turn to stare, because there was some pale midriff exposed above the waist of his jeans and he was skinny, but not skinny, kind of-lean? Was that the word? He had that vee of muscle above his hip and Sirius was suddenly struggling not to choke on his own tongue.

"Here it is!", came Remus' muffled voice, and Sirius took a step back hurriedly. He was pretty certain he had been gazing glassy eyed at the shop-keeper's navel where a delicate line of dark brown hair descended below his belt, and pinched his own wrist hard behind his back as Remus' head emerged, and he shook some cobwebs out of his curly hair. He was holding a small box, and Sirius’ first thought was that if something covered in that much dust came within eight feet of Narcissa, her immune system would likely spontaneously combust due to overexposure. People like her didn’t have immune systems, they just loaded themselves up with fucking multivitamins and avoided any establishments without at least two Michelin stars.

“Sorry it’s a bit-“ Remus blew a cloud of dust off the top of the box, coughed, and wiped it off on the back of his jeans, muttering ‘need to stop smoking.’

Sirius almost went feral at the image of his lips pursed around a Marlboro, but managed to pull his face into a socially acceptable frame in time for Remus to pass the box to him. “What do you think?”

Squatting in a bed of midnight blue velvet, sat a pair of silver napkin rings. They were ornate, and completely hideous. Sirius started to grin. He picked one up to examine it. It was decorated with a stag, and the other with a doe. It was likely the engraver had never seen these animals in the flesh, which would account for their mildly horrifying humanoid faces.

“Perfect,” muttered Sirius, turning the ugly silver object over in his hand. It was heavy and looked antique, and Sirius knew it would fit right in with the future Mrs. Malfoy’s entirely tasteless kitchen decor. He looked up at Remus, disbelieving in the way he had absolutely nailed Sirius’ mission. “Absolutely bloody perfect.”

Remus grinned back, a wondrous sight, his hands half in the pockets of his faded jeans. Sirius returned the napkin ring to its box, and then thought of something that made his smile falter.

“Are these solid silver?”

“Yep,” Remus said happily. “Nineteenth century antiques, I believe.” But Sirius was pushing the box back into his hands, shaking his head.

“I can’t afford that, sorry I-“

“Five quid.” The box flew back into Sirius’ hands before he could blink.

“Come again?”

The shopkeeper shrugged. “I’m the only person who knew they were there, and I doubt anyone else would want to bestow something that vile on a newly wedded couple.”

Was this guy even real? Sirius couldn’t quite fathom what he had done to deserve this act of kindness, but he wasn’t about to turn it down.

“Thank you,” he said, earnestly. Remus shrugged again, but the smile remained. He took Sirius back to the counter, where he took the box back from him and, while Sirius dug in his pocket for some change, produced some silvery wrapping paper and parcelled it. Sirius stole a surreptitious glance at him as he tied it off with a navy ribbon. His eyelashes were sandy like his eyebrows, but they were thick and almost touched his cheeks when his eyes were cast down on his work.

Sirius was having a crisis. He had never asked for anyone’s number before, but the thought of walking out of this shop and never seeing this god-sent individual again was criminal. His mouth felt dry. What if he had misread this interaction completely, and Remus was just a friendly, helpful guy? He glanced at the book, now balanced on top of the till while Remus rang up, and took a breath.

“Good book, that” he said, indicating The Picture of Dorian Grey awkwardly. Remus looked from him, to the book, and back again. While Sirius experienced a burning sensation in the base of his chest, Remus nodded non commitantly, and swept the stack of pound coins Sirius had placed on the desk into the till. He looked away, agonising, kicking himself internally at his own ineptness, as he pulled a receipt from the till and passed it and the neatly-wrapped box across the table.

“All done.”

“Thanks.” Sirius could feel his cheeks burning, and decided a clean getaway was well overdue. He had picked up the items and had half turned away when he heard- “I wrote my number on that receipt, you know.”

The burning in his chest now felt like a slowly inflating balloon. He looked down at the smooth piece of paper and saw a number scribbled in biro on its surface. Eleven numbers. Definitely a phone number. He turned hastily back to Remus, who was- Sirius was pleased to see- also looking slightly bashful.

“Thought my gaydar had malfunctioned for a minute there,” Sirius said. Remus laughed.

“It was really great to meet you.” He said, placing his feet up on the desk again.

“And you,” Sirius replied. Elated, he headed for the door before Remus could change his mind. He dreaded to think how late he was now, but he couldn’t think of a situation more worth a bollocking from his mother than this one. He had yanked the reluctant door open when-

“Hey, Sirius?”

“Yeah?” He looked over his shoulder. Remus was peering over the top of his book at him again.

“Let me know how the wedding goes.”

#wolfstar #Wolfstar fanfiction #muggle au #Marauders #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #wolfstar au #remus x sirius #remus is a little shit and i love him

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musedblues · 5 years ago

Text

The Fire and The Flames

summary: In which two baby groupies are born, learn to navigate backstage, and catch the attention of their favorite guitar-wielding boys, on tour with the band whose music brought the girls together in the first place.

a/n: How am I just now writing for John? Jess made me do it, and I can't help but aspire to make her dreams come true. So enjoy this tale inspired and encouraged by @brianmays-hair featuring my very own projections because boy do I miss concerts. I truly poured my soul into this nbd (loosely based on the 75' anato tour)

w/c: 16k

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She won tickets on the radio. You pep talked her into dialing the station and started making dinner while she waited on hold. You'd found out the big news when she burst into the kitchen screeching like a loon, and even though a solid five minutes passed before she could properly say the words, you already knew.

You were going to see Queen.

It was the band's music that brought you and the girl together. She'd been hovering over the last of their newest record the shop had to offer. When she caught your pout upon approaching the newly emptied case, she declared that you could borrow the record, after she bought it. Then she told you her name.

"Queen... they're gonna... we're gonna-" You stammered and shrieked, trying to wrap your mind around the news. You'd missed their last show a city away, because of a flat tire. And the one before that because you were dead broke. Now money nor travel affected your ability to call a cab to take you to the show fifteen minutes away, where tickets with your names on them waited at will call.

///

"Come on!" Elizabeth tugged your sleeve all the way across stalled traffic. Her dark curls were pinned in perfect place, her most expensive jumpsuit hugged her form in all the best ways. You feared your heart would burst through your chest, leaving a giant tattered hole in your best top.

The theater was on one end of the misty street, but Elizabeth yanked you inside the doors of a record shop before the pavement ended. The show wasn't for another couple of hours. You relished the steady hammer of your heart, fawning out loud over how Queen were probably halfway through their soundcheck by now, right down the road from where you stood, waiting to see them. After milling through the country and blues section, you ended up in the back of the shop, where a small cafe served coffee and pastries.

With nothing better to do, you and Elizabeth sat at a high top table, munching on sweets to pass the time. Patrons of all kinds scurried in from the weather. While most seemed to come in to warm up, one group of girls burst in like they owned the place, jingling the bells on the door so loudly it caused your heads to turn.

Three outlandishly dressed girls waltzed passed the crates of records, glancing to the occasional title with a smirk, headed directly to the back counter. One of them threw herself toward the display case of cakes and cookies, dramatically ordering something warm from an exhausted barista.

You and Elizabeth had turned back to chattering over your coffee orders, glancing at the time on your watch with growing impatience. Then one of them sauntered over.

"I like your buttons." One of them piped up. The girl's heavy platforms dragged along the tile floor. Her hair was dusty blonde, totally unkempt, waving past a bright green top, ending at the hem of her black velvet pants. And just when you'd gotten lost in evaluating her bold fashion, Elizabeth chirped back.

"Oh, thank you! I made this one." Elizabeth brought her bag closer to her chest, pointing to the few pins proudly displayed along the strap. You'd made the other two, out of magazine clipping with Queen's name in bright blue letters- advertisement for an old show; the perfect accessory.

Another one of the girls gasped, spinning into view. Her short blonde hair fell to her shoulders, just above a big leopard print coat. Two ruby red shoes poked out of the end of her garment, and you wondered where this crew did all their shopping.

"Are you going to the show, too?" She asked with a broad grin, reaching out to bring Elizabeth's purse handle closer to her sight. And as if she was truly anxious to hear your answer, the girl scurried toward the empty seat at your side, settling in to listen while you gushed.

"Oh, yes!" You grinned, glancing at Elizabeth who was smiling just as wide. "We won tickets on the radio."

By then, the last girl had made her way to join the party. She wore a long purple dress and her thin red hair in pigtails.

"It's not for another hour, yet." She sighed, crossing her arms and glancing back to the counter where she must have been waiting for her order to appear.

Elizabeth welcomed the crew to pass the time with the two of you, even offering bits of her dessert to the new friends you made. They each seemed more than glad to settle at your table, glancing anxiously at their own watches all the same. For the while you waited, you learned their names.

Rita was the redhead with warm eyes and more questions about your lives than answers for her own.

Lilly was her younger sister, the small fiery blonde, who did most of the talking- so much she forgot to drink the coffee she'd put on a show of ordering.

And Jade was the wild-haired girl, without much to say, and a smile that held secrets you were simply dying to know. She kept her eyes traveling back to the window that pointed in the direction of the theater, but the building was still out of view. So when her eyes widened, and she stood to her feet in a flash, you wondered what she'd seen.

"It's time!" Jade announced, pushing in her seat while her friends followed her lead without question.

"Well, I think the doors won't be open for another fifteen minutes but I'm cool with waiting in line," Elizabeth spoke in a rush, tossing her trash in the bin and wrapping her coat back around her well-dressed figure.

The trio waited for you and your friend to collect yourselves, share an excited giggle, and scurry along. The air was still wet, but the rain had yet to fall. You prayed it would stay that way, as you approached the theater, noticing the line stretched for blocks full of anxious fans, eager for a night of music. It would totally suck if you had to linger during a downpour, but you decided Queen was worth the mild pending torture.

The group of girls you'd become acquainted with skipped ahead of you, turning every now and again to make sure you and your friend were keeping up.

As you approached the dreaded line of freezing faces, you sucked in a breath, prepared to find your place at the end, and stick it out till the doors opened. But as you turned to follow the line, you were yanked in the other direction.

"Follow us, trust me!" Jade dug her fingers into your coat, pulling you toward where Lilly and Rita skipped ahead. Elizabeth latched on to you, pulling herself to keep up in a confused rush.

"We'd better wait in line. What if we get back to late? We've been waiting for these tickets forever and-" Elizabeth fretted, keeping her step in time with Jade's pace who set your own. And before your friend could go on making excuses to wait in the cold, shelter came into view in a gloriously unexpected way; Lilly and Rita were slipping through the backstage door.

"Oh, no way!" You croaked, eyes going wide as Jade reached out to the door Lilly stood holding open, waving you in with a hurried hand.

The door slammed shut with a metallic thud. The sound of your shoes echoed in the dank, empty space as your new friend's giggles drifted from where they led the way.

"We should not be back here." Elizabeth worried, reaching out to clutch your arm in a panic. Jade had let you go and spun out of view. Your only hope was the sight of Lilly and Rita skipping far ahead.

"But we are." You whispered back, scanning the hall you stomped through, in a hurry to Lord knew where. Distant chatter and ruckus could be heard as you approach the end of the four-way turn. Jade popped back into view.

She walked backward with ease, wearing a broad grin and holding two gaudy orange stickers in either hand. Two backstage passes. Elizabeth glanced at you, then back at Jade, let out a loud laugh, and snatched the sticker from her hand.

"Welcome to the show, ladies." Jade grinned, handing you the last pass as Elizabeth slapped her own to her chest with glee.

"Oh, God." You chuckled, sticking the pass to your best top as Jade spun to lead the way a little faster. You had just gotten so lucky. "Oh my God, Oh my-"

And just before you rocketed into a true blue freak out, Elizabeth's nails dug into your palm, as Jade halted in place, fanning her arm out for a group to cross the hall before yours. It was them. It was Queen.

Freddie led the way in a bedazzled leotard, a coy grin painting his face as he swept his dark fringe back.

Roger followed close behind, his boldly patterned shirt unbuttoned all the way. He was laughing at something one of his bandmates said, placing a hand on Freddie's shoulder as they turned the corner.

Then came Brian. His features were sharp, and his expression was mild, almost sleepy. His long legs branched out from underneath a white pleated top, and carried him around the corner. Just before he vanished, Brian's gaze happened to sweep sideways, almost certainly landing on you and Elizabeth. And as soon as you registered his look, Brian's form was replaced by another.

John followed last, his hands shoved in his tight pockets, as if on a leisurely Sunday stroll, rather than on his way to put on a kick-ass show. His flaxen hair drifted behind his shoulders, and his eyes stayed on the ground.

When Queen disappeared around the corner, and a few workers with clipboards and headsets rushed to follow, Jade had to hurry you and Elizabeth along like an impatient older sister. Elizabeth held on to your hand like a vice, and you traded a stunned glance as you were being pushed in the right direction.

Before you knew it, you were holding your best friend's hand at the side of the stage where your favorite band settled into position. When the curtain opened, and the lights blinded you, the music came alive.

Roger sat on a throne, thrashing about, trading winks and nods between shrieking in perfect harmony.

Freddie stomped between his bandmates, singing to them, singing to the audience. Singing like his life and death and things in between depended on it. You could see beads of sweat peppered across the skin he dared to expose.

Brian drifted from glancing to the strings under his fingers, across the sea of shouting spectators and then to Freddie, with a shy smile. As if to say "look, I'm doing it! We're doing it." Every time the skinny lad leaned into the microphone, Elizabeth leaned into you as if magnetically linked to the guitarist, pulled in whatever direction he moved, even if he hadn't gone far at all. Every time Brian flew into a solo with practiced concentration, Elizabeth let little squeals escape her throat, much too taken with the sights and sounds to keep up her usually elegant demeanor.

Then there was John. You relished the times his clunky heels staggered out from the shadows, drifting clearer into your view, his head bopping, his poker face hardly changing, not even when Freddie spun to sing right at him.

You'd almost been too concentrated on finding his profile on the other side of the dim stage. When one song faded from the next, with all the precision you'd heard on your worn-out record from home, you were jerked from cloud ten. Yeah, it existed.

"We've got to make it back to the green room before the band, so I can introduce you to the girls!" Just like that, your new wild-haired friend ripped you and Elizabeth away from the greatest sight you'd ever seen, before it was even over.

Jade paraded you around a couple of corners and into an unceremonious room; where a single tattered couch, a wall-length mirror, and a table full of drinks were the only accommodations.

It was enough for a band, you supposed, but not for the mass of people in waiting. You'd come upon several unfamiliar, jarringly beautiful faces, smoking and laughing to pass the time- instead of listening to the music. How curious.

In one big hurry, Jade explained that the green room wasn't always so full and you were lucky to have come on a night that it was. That shows this close to home were always a big party.

"Those are the twins, Gretta and Violet. They're always together." Jade pointed across the way to two girls with the same long dark hair and different shades of lipstick. They turned their pleasant grins your way as Jade pushed you along.

"That's Michelle." Your new friend spoke, pointing to a girl wearing a dramatic frown. "She's moving to Idaho tomorrow. She always bought us merch from the shows we couldn't make it too. We'll have to keep the tradition alive for her when she's gone."

You were shuffled through a crowd of fresh, painted faces, trying to grasp onto every new name they were matched with. And when you made it to the back of the room, Jade let you and Elizabeth go, and disappeared.

"What do we do?" You turned to Elizabeth, swallowing your nerves. You'd been introduced to everyone but Jade failed to give your names away. You felt terribly out of place. Not to mention the fact that your favorite band of all time was due to walk through the doors of the same room you occupied, at any second. Elizabeth rose her finger, with a thought.

"Maybe we could-"

"Girls, this is Ratty. He's new here, just like you." Rita had appeared out of the blue with a tall shaggy-haired man in tow.

"I'm not new, any more babe. Two months is a long time to have to put up with these musical hellions." The fellow chuckled, revealing a cigarette from his jacket pocket. The man explained he was a roadie, hired by the band in September, to help with the technical in's and out's of putting on a show, emotional breakdowns included, apparently.

By the time Ratty finished telling his story, just before you could ask where he got a name like that, the band burst in the doorway.

"My darlings!" Freddie waltzed in, his smile glowing, his presence demanding. Almost everyone turned to greet him with cheers and whistles, except a couple of stagehands whose eyes were glued to the groupies who'd previously had nothing better to do than hold mindless chatter with them.

The band flooded in behind him, acknowledging different people in their own ways, between smiles and jokes and sleepy nods. You and Elizabeth stayed back, shooting each other looks. As much as you wanted to mingle, to matter, you couldn't be sure of your place.

So you stayed against the wall, your pleasant grin relaying secret pleas for help to your friend who answered back with her open wide-eyed apprehension.

"Hello, little wallflowers. I've never seen you around before." Freddie, in all his sweaty, charming glory twirled up to you and Elizabeth. He spun to great you like he'd been greeting everyone else. The way you'd been starstruck till now seemed to settle at the tune of the singer's gentle and well-meaning attention. But, Freddie was still the star of your favorite band, and your nervous glance landed on your friend to speak as your words got lodged in your throat.

She introduced herself boldly, stating her name with false confidence you wondered how she'd come to pick up so quickly.

"Elizabeth, like the queen herself." Freddie barked a laugh, letting his gaze travel across your friend's well-dressed form. "A queen amongst Queen." He seemed to realize.

"And you're something special too aren't you?" Freddie quirked his head to you, as you stood in stunned silences, still. "You're her little twin flame. I quite like you pair."

You and your friend let out little laughs as Freddie nodded in approval, strangers shuffling past in the background. That was when Roger emerged from the mess of folks, wearing drowsy eyes and a smile you'd seen the likes of from other boys in bars.

"Roger, this is our very own little queenie and the jewel to her crown." Freddie gestured between your friend and yourself, as you both tried to keep the same level of composure as everyone else in the laid back room. What a shame squawking like the fans you were, might have been.

As soon as the drummer seemed to evaluate the pair of you, and say hello, a perfectly manicured hand dug into his shoulder and pulled him away from view. Roger went without a fight, as Freddie rolled his eyes, turning to face you all the way once more.

"Oh please tell me you'll be joining us the rest of this tour, dears," Freddie spoke, almost flippantly, with a wave of his hand. "The bloody weather will be a drag, but you two will be much-needed company."

"Yes. We should. Shall we?" You spoke in too big of a hurry, turning to find Elizabeth already shaking her head. When you looked back to Freddie his brow was quirked, waiting for a similar decision.

"Just... give us one minute." You smiled, dragging your friend further down the wall.

"Freddie fucking Mercury just asked us to go on tour with Queen. Why are you shaking your head?" You demanded to know.

"We can't go on tour." Elizabeth said, plainly.

"You need to learn to let loose. That was your bloody new year's resolution, remember? It's coming up on the last two months to keep your word. Come on, Elizabeth. We haven't got anything better to do for the rest of the year. I'm already home for the holidays and you're between jobs. The stars have fucking aligned."

You watched your speech work magic. Your friend sucked in a breath that made her stand a little taller. And when you paused, she nodded and turned away from you to tap Freddie on the shoulder.

"Where to next, then?"

The singer's eyes sparkled, as he shot you a look that made you wonder if he knew you were the one to talk her into being so bold.

After your world subtly shifted on its axis, and plans for your near future changed on a dime, Freddie Mercury vanished as quickly as he'd appeared in front of you. The room was buzzing with folks who wanted every bit of the singer's attention, and he couldn't help but spin with a smile when his name was called out from a different corner.

You and Elizabeth shared whispered reminders to play it cool and mingling with the girls and guys who were either equally as nervous to speak to the band, or simply patient enough to wait their turn. The closest you came to making your wildest dreams come true, were the times you let your stare linger on John as he traveled back and forth from the bar to his bandmates. You couldn't be sure if he'd caught your nervous smiles in his direction, but you kept your lips upturned, just in case.

And when Jade started to leave, she motioned for you and Elizabeth to follow along.

"Don't pack too much, but bring everything you think you'll need. I'll fetch you from the station. And just remember it's not cool to be early, but never be late." The frizzy blonde listed several vague instructions to you and Elizabeth whose ears dialed in, trying to decipher the code in which she spoke. Then, Jade disappeared into the night, leaving you and your pal to race home and prepare for an unexpected ride.

///

You stood in a pale yellow hall, knocking on the door that displayed the room number you'd been given. Down the way, you heard Jade open the door of the room she must have been occupying. She'd picked you up from the train station earlier, well, led you from there to this very hotel on foot. But she did help carry some of your things. You recognized Lilly greet Jade, just before the short blonde groaned.

"They're here?" The small girl groaned in your direction. "And they're coming on the whole tour?" Lilly's complaint didn't go unnoticed by you, but Elizabeth must have missed it. Rita was already welcoming you in, when you turned back from eavesdropping.

"Hurry, we've only got fifteen minutes!" Rita pulled you into the room. "That's like, five minutes in this world." The redhead laughed, spinning toward the writing desk where her suitcase and things were spread out as if she'd be staying much longer than one night. She loaned you some fancy french perfume in your hurry to get ready, all the same.

When you stomped up the steps of the bus, you decided not to question how you'd gotten lucky enough to end up where you were. Instead, you turned to flash your best friend a smile, as everyone greeted each other with grandeur. You kept moving, past benches the other girls had claimed. Between them, were the boys that belonged to your favorite band. Whose faces you were still trying to get used to admiring in real-time, their expressions surpassing the charm they usually oozed from the news clippings you saved and called posters.

"Look who it is! I'm so glad to see your lovely faces come, sit." Freddie gushed when he glanced up to find you'd made it to where you were now. The singer excitedly waved you over to join his company, on the other side of a small booth across for your favorite bassist.

You nudged Elizabeth next to John, far too nervous to sit next to the guy you'd never officially met, but swooned over plenty before now. Your friend shot you a curious glare, probably wondering why you'd given up a seat next to the bassist she knew darn well you fancied. But still, she sat.

"John dear, next to you is our very own Queen of the Tour. And, next to me, our personal ray of sunshine." Freddie turned to you with a smile in his voice, as you eased to sit with a grin.

"Hello." The bassist nodded, glancing between you and your friend without looking either of you in the eye. He instead remained almost entirely fixated on the ring he fiddled with, on his very middle finger. You tried not to let yourself stare long, but his hands were, somehow, even nicer up close.

"These two are keepers, Deacy." Freddie nodded, in the most serious tone you'd ever heard him utter. The lilt in the singer's voice brought a cocky smile to Elizabeth's lips, as John looked up. His stormy eyes locked with yours, for a second, just one second, before he snapped back to Freddie, who was speaking again.

"So tell us about yourselves, dears."

And through a few nervous stammers and shy laughs, you and your friend took turns speaking while Freddie traded knowing looks with John. The bassist seemed indifferent at first, but his polite smile seemed to widen ever so slightly as Freddie coxed you and Elizabeth to share more stories. You wanted to stare, to snapshot a mental image of John's profile to recall later in the day when it was less embarrassing to fawn over his features. But you couldn't let your eyes linger long before a blush threatened to burn across your cheeks.

"See, Deacy? They're really something, aren't they? I'm never wrong about these things, you know!" Freddie flourished, looking to you and Elizabeth as he stood. The bus stalled outside of the venue. It was time for round two.

On the solid ground your motley crew staggered across, Freddie latched onto your best pal. He pulled Elizabeth along the pavement and all the way through empty venue halls, into the green room. The singer fawned over the girl's pleated bell bottoms, pointing out his own array of clothes he'd brought along. And for once, you were left on your own to roam between groupies, roadies and band members most interested in holding each other's attention.

"Hi... I don't believe we've met." A soft, almost timid voice came from just over your shoulder. You spun around from your mission to paste yourself to the wall, like the night before. Stalling you was a certain curly-haired guitarist, holding out a paper cup of tea your way, clutching his own to his chest.

You took the drink with a surprised grin, before telling the guy your name. Brian rose his cup to yours in a mock toast. All the nerves you'd felt meeting his band members were giving you pause now. Brian was shockingly easy to talk to.

"And who is your lovely friend?" Brian asked, letting his eyes flutter across the room, where Elizabeth and Freddie were trading bracelets and laughs.

"According to your singer, she's your band's monarch. She's called Elizabeth." You smiled, watching Brian's warm eyes linger on your friend.

"I see." He grinned, tearing his gaze away to face you again. As you monitored the guitarist's withheld smirk, and the look in his eye, you took a bold chance. You lifted a finger from around your paper cup and motioned Brian to lean a little closer.

"You're her favorite. But she'd never be the first to let you know." You spoke softly, keeping your eyes on Elizabeth across the way. Her dark curls and bright smile were easily admirable. Brian hummed, a sing-songy noise.

"And who's your favorite, then?" Brian asked, a little laugh ending his query.

It was then, when you let your smile represent your response, that you realized why some of the girls had answered your questions so vaguely, so far. Why they'd smirked instead of speaking, too. There were some things too dear to address directly. There was something about the spell that drew you here and now, that might have broken at the slightest misstep.

So you focused on the music. You and Elizabeth shared starry-eyed glances and subdued squeals when the lights dimmed, and the band plugged in. You felt your heart hammer to the time of the drum. You danced along to every riff and line together, until the end of the show when the lights stopped flashing, and the band unplugged. And as you took your sweet time back to the green room, you looked to your friend and proposed standing on the other side, tomorrow night.

///

The shadows of the stage were where you felt most alive. Better than alive, like you'd blasted through reality and ended up in one of your many daydreams. As you tried to understand where you fit into the mess when the show hit the road, you came to understand more about the others who crowded the bus.

Rita sat in the back, with a book in her hand and a look in her eye. She watched on with a grin like an exhausted, trusting mother. She hardly ever spoke up, or out, or joined in the outrageous fun. Instead, she flashed you knowing grins and followed Ratty around like a lost puppy.

You couldn't tell if the roadie noticed or not. He'd been so busy rushing around assisting the band with technical difficulties, and more often than not, the boy's silly little requests and complaints. The times he did notice Rita waiting up for him though, he smiled, and relaxed in the back of the room; just before springing up when Freddie whined for assistance once more.

Jade was the heart and soul of the tour, always coming away from stops with extra snacks for everyone, trading shoes with the girls who couldn't dance one more second on their skyscraper heels. She bounced from one person to the next and never made one feel like second best, when she poured them tea without asking, before disappearing as soon as she'd materialized.

The rides from town to town were usually fun. But hours passed and boredom kicked in, striking everyone at odd moments when all they lost their turn at board games and had nothing to do but watch the world zoom by the window.

Times like then, you'd glance to John across the way, and after several deep breaths, you'd dare to ask what might have been on his mind. He'd answer in small shrugs or silly one-liners, but never said what you were hoping to hear. When you'd all but exhausted every pathetic attempt at catching and keeping John's attention, you'd stood to find something to distract you from staring too long at the guy.

You stepped over Roger who's legs took over the small path toward the kitchenette. He pulled his feet in just in time. Lilly clung to his side, imploring you to watch your step. You weren't anywhere near disturbing her position, you knew she was only speaking in code, warning you to steer clear of her favorite blonde drummer.

Lilly was never too far from Roger's side. You couldn't tell if he minded or not. Lilly knew Roger couldn't very well see her from behind his drum kit. So she'd make vulgar promises to wait up for him elsewhere, loud enough for everyone to hear, and pretend they didn't. But those rare times the girl wasn't super-glued to Rogers' hip, he never seemed to keep his eye out for her, anyway.

You didn't question it. You just kept to yourself as well as you could on a bus full of rockstars and they're royal court.

You traded smiles with Ratty who slumped out of the kitchenette in time for you to take over, but you were only alone for a few seconds time. Brian came shuffling near, reaching for an apple and leaning against the counter so he could say something just to you.

"I figured it out." He noted, like a snide, scheming sibling.

"You're a smart guy," You laughed, reaching for the mini coffee pot. "But I've got no idea what you're on about."

"We're playing Scrabble." Brian declared, cocking his head toward the table most everyone had gathered around. "And there happens to be an empty spot next to John. He won't bite, you know, unless you ask nicely."

Thank God you hadn't taken a sip of your drink yet, or you likely would have spit it right out in a fluster. Brian might have picked up on your silly little schoolgirl crush, but he needed to realize you weren't like the other girls who shamelessly slithered hot on the boy's trails to and from the closest doors with locks. And neither was Elizabeth.

"We're here for the music, got it?" You gave Brian a stern look. "Heartbreak is not an option." You shook your head in his direction, but Brian kept his lithe grin before spinning to lead you along. Maybe you were only warning yourself.

///

At the next stop, Lilly strung along a cluster of girls who'd been camping outside the venue, and started some kind of party in the indoor pool of your latest hotel. Somehow, you'd all wound up there after dumping the band's equipment, sharing drinks and downtime in an all-new setting.

While most of the girls crowded the pool, you stuck to the mini bar in the back and kicked your feet up on Elizabeth's lap. Neither of you thought to pack swimsuits in the beginnings of winter, and neither of you were bold enough as Jade, who'd stripped down to her skivvies to dive in the deep end.

You watched on from plastic chairs, giggling to yourselves over things you'd always found funny. Roger was the first to pull up a seat at your table, handing out fresh drinks to you and Elizabeth. The guy seemed relieved to enjoy your company without having to keep up his usually debaucherous demeanor.

"You don't fancy a swim, Rog?" Elizabeth asked, popping the tab on the bottle he offered her. The shrieks and splashes of a dozen groupies echoed through the humid room.

"Are you kidding? I can risk ruining my hair hours before a big show, love." Roger grinned, rolling his eyes as he settled deeper into his seat. After you and your friend laughed, Roger kept rambling, starting in on a story about the time he'd chopped his sister's braids off when she'd talked him into playing barber, as a boy.

By the end of his tale, you and Elizabeth came down from wild laughter to find the other boys had gathered around the table. There was only another hour left to leave to chance before another show was scheduled to take off. And here you were laughing at Rogers embellished storytelling.

The girls in the water seemed none the wiser, squealing at each other and calling out the boy's names every now and again in hopes they'd join their fun. And the boys in the band let the sound of a siren beckoning their names linger in the air, unanswered. How could two separate worlds exist so cohesively? Maybe they didn't...

"Don't you all get sick of all that?" You asked, after one of the girls called out to one of the boys for the hundredth time around.

"Yes," John answered firmly, swigging the last of his beer and standing up as if the answer gave him permission to finally leave. You hadn't meant to coax him to go. You'd been trying to speak past your nerves all week, and get a little closer to the guy. But all of your polite advances had been for naught. Over dinner and on the road, you would ask John what books he was reading. You would compliment his hair, and ask if he wanted more coffee. But so would the other girls. You were just another in a line of ladies much bolder than you.

///

"Every time he does that I want to cry, it's so sexy." One of the new girls fawned over Brian. He stood across the way, favoring a hip, letting the other jet out as he hung his head, focused on tuning his guitar.

A cast of current groupie girls giggled from a few rows ahead of where you and Elizabeth sat. Lilly had marched them each to the front row for soundcheck, something she never usually stuck around for.

You could have gone to lunch, yourself. You could have roamed around the new city. But even the tunes Queen fiddled about with as they set up in each new town was music to your ears. You caught Elizabeth's withheld expression of resentment every time a new groupies eye turned to focus on the slender dark-haired guitarist, for whom they grossly expressed their love.

"They keep looking at him like a piece of dinner," Elizabeth grumbled under her breath, slumping in her seat. You glanced up from the magazine in your lap and focused on the stage.

"Yeah," You breathed. "but he keeps looking at you."

Brian turned his smile to the floor when he noticed you and Elizabeth stealing a look his way, as he'd already been focused on your friend.

Just then, one of the new girls let out an annoying squeal upon noticing Brian bite back a smile.

"Oh, would you shut the hell up!" Elizabeth barked, catching the attention of the group of girls off guard, turning their grins to sneers your way, but at least they stopped squealing.

"You know tonight is my last night, right?" Jade chuckled, shuffling through the bleachers with an announcement you hadn't seen coming.

"You're leaving?" You asked, not flinching when Roger let loose on a couple of symbols. Jade leaned on the back of the seats in front of you, crossing her arms over her impossibly long hair. Sure, some days the bus was fuller than others. Girls would hop on and off without ever trading their names. But Jade was always there. She had been long before inviting you, too.

"No one ever rides for long. You'll get motion sick, ya know?" Jade traded this information like a secret.

"Well, we can't let you leave without a party." You declared. Jade's eyes grew starry before declaring you left the planning up to her, and waved you along to get ready for another show.

///

You weren't sure how it happened. Maybe he was coming down from the rock and roll high, or maybe he was exhausted enough by the long show, that he'd forgotten how to act. When John sat next to you on the bus with a smile, you nearly shot up in a panic. Was this some kind of cruel prank?

You tried to bury your alarm, and savor his company before it was gone.

"Another good show," You nodded, stiffening in your seat as John threw his head back against the leather with a sigh.

"Barely. Ratty nearly busted me amp in the middle of Liar." John jested as the roadie walked through the bus, swatting away the comment with a grumble of his own. He looked just as worn out as the boys who'd put on the show.

You laughed at John's remark as the bus filled up, too nervous to think of what to say. You'd spent all your free time considering the right thing but the moment fate allowed, your mind went blank, damn it. You decided it was enough to be graced with his presence so delightfully near yours on the ride back to the hotel.

As the band filled up the bus and it started down the road, Freddie dreamed out loud of a long hot shower. You watched as Brian settled next to Elizabeth, including her in the argument he was having with Roger. You noticed the way he looked at her, when you weren't stealing glances at John. It was like you were making sure he was still there, not some figment of your imagination.

He never uttered another word on the ride, and when you got to the hotel, you knew the end of your shared company was near. So you offered John a measly goodnight, hoping he'd pick up on the way you hoped the statement was less of a goodbye and more of a wish to get to say so again.

When John slinked into his room without so much as a look your way, your heart ached with worry over what you'd done wrong.

"He's just shy." A voice spoke low in your ear, as you moved through the hall. You turned to find Roger at your side, offering a shrug. Was he giving you a reason for John's failure to communicate, or defending his friends decided quiet? Either way, the drummer was showing you a bit of kindness, and for that, you smiled and nodded his way.

When Roger floated to his room, and you'd nearly made it to yours, your journey was halted. Lilly stepped in front of you, blue eyes clouded with smokey anger.

"Stay the fuck away from Roger Taylor." She spoke through her teeth, sending a chill down your spine. You nodded, in a hurry to step out from under her killer gaze. You nodded because you would, because you had no plans on stealing the girl away from him in the first place.

Elizabeth asked if you were okay when you finally made it to safety. And even though Lilly's sister floated from the ensuite with a smile, you couldn't help but spill your guts to your best friend. With a great deal of caution, you told Elizabeth what the short blonde has said to you. Rita heard, but seemed to pretend she wasn't listening. And like usual, she slipped out of the room in hopes of occupying another.

This was when everyone went separate ways. This was when girls who waited long enough outside of the tour bus got lucky for just one night. When you scurried to dinner with whoever was in the mood for pizza or chips.

But tonight was off-kilter from the ones you'd become accustomed to. A fierce knock on your door revealed a giddy Jade, and a freshly showered Brian.

"Come on, then! I've found the perfect pub to celebrate my last night in." Jade informed, dancing in place. Elizabeth floated toward Brian with a wide smile that matched his own, like they planned to meet up just like this, before now.

You asked Jade for directions, saying something about freshening up before you went out for the evening, reminding her that a wasted groupie had spilled her champagne down your top before the show ended.

You'd never felt more alone while you rushed to change, in a hurry to meet up with the friends you'd been lucky enough to make. All except one, it seemed. The memory of Lilly's warning kept replaying in your head. Each time you thought back to it, the fear she'd managed to douse you in fizzled away, replaced by anger. You thought back to the night's she'd yank Roger away from signing autographs and pull him down halls when he complained about having to be someplace else. How he'd let her, as if there was no way he could outrun the girls hunt to have him all to herself. It made you sick. That was no way to treat anyone, let alone the talent of the band whose music was the only reason Lilly was lucky enough to be here. She didn't even seem to care about it, anyway.

You hurried to head out, in desperate need of fun. As you spun into the hallway, freshly dressed and ready to party, the couple you'd been in deep thought over were bickering at the end of the hall.

"You're not going with them, Roger. We're going to dinner like I planned." Lilly stamped her foot. Roger wilted, explaining how Jade had invited everyone to celebrate her last night on tour. At the mention of another girl's name Lilly rolled her eyes.

"You aren't canceling our plans, Roger I fucking swear-"

"Is it really so hard to imagine he doesn't want to be around you for once, Lilly?" You snapped, making your way closer as both parties turned their stunned attention your way.

"I'll make it easy for both of you, come on." You marched up to the pair, looped your arm through Roger's, and turned toward the elevator on your way all the same. He picked up the pace, pulling you away in a big hurry, but before you were gone, you caught the look in Lilly's eye.

On your race to the elevator, you tried to shake your fear of Lilly's death glare, and feel more prideful of your ambition to thwart her plans. When the elevator doors shut, and Roger sighed in relief, you did too.

"Thank you." He nodded his messy hair, relaxing against the wall on the ride down twenty floors. "You're a real friend."

You looked at Roger then, you could practically see his guard melting away. You'd never expected to end up here and now, not in your wildest dreams.

"Well, you know, your music has always been there for me. I suppose it's the least I can do to be there for you, too." You weren't trying to boost his ego. You didn't want anything from Roger either. It was simply the most honest response you could think of. You meant it.

"I invited her along. I promised not to leave home without her. But I never promised more than that." Roger explained, digging for a cigarette in his pocket. He explained how the two had misunderstood each other. How he'd realized he'd lead her along and felt too sorry to let her down gently. You both went on laughing about how the music led you all here and now, like some kind of spell, a curse in Lilly's case.

When you spilled out into the world on a mission to find the crew who'd geared up for a long night of fun, you were still laughing. High off of the euphoria of telling Lilly off, you were sure.

Freddie, John, and Ratty were only just leaving, as well. Roger called out to the boys, racing to catch up with his friends without a small blonde bombshell weighing him down. The boys turned with grins to find Roger racing their way, while you watched on with a smile, finally feeling like less of an outsider for once.

And while the crew joined up, John stalled and turned to watch you approach, as you stepped closer with bated breath.

"You alright?" He asked in a small way. As if he wasn't sure he should have even been asking.

You'd laughed it off with Roger. But the look on Lilly's face after what you said to her was burned in your brain. You realized you'd been biting your lip every time the thought threatened to make you queasy.

"I think I've earned myself an enemy, tonight." You shrugged, watching John join your stride, his pace matching your own. Maybe it was his closeness that was sending waves through your stomach, you thought.

"Why's that?" John wondered, ever the conversationalist. This was still further than you'd managed to get with him, most days, though.

"I’ve stolen Roger away from the girl who's been claiming him all tour long." You joked, hoping it would make you feel better about how angry you'd made her. You weren't one to step so boldly out of your shell. John went silent for a beat, glancing at Roger racing ahead, pumping his fists, getting his companions in the party spirit.

"You and Roger? You two really-" John pipped up again, his hair blowing back with the breeze.

"Wait! God, no." You barked a wild laugh. One that might have embarrassed you if John hadn't relaxed into a smile, too. When you managed to find the words, you explained yourself.

"There is no Roger and me." You made yourself clear. "I just couldn't stand to hear Lilly treat him like she does. I finally told her so."

"Well good.. then everyone wins tonight, don't they?" Even the rockstars spoke in code, huh? John kept his smile, a real genuine grin. The first one you'd noticed pointed so unabashedly in your direction. Was there something better than winning? You'd suddenly hit the jackpot.

You walked in time with the fellow around the corner to the pub Jade had scouted out. There, your friends spent the rest of the night bumping into one another in the dark and shouting curses at the jukebox when it ate their coins. As the drinks flowed, Elizabeth and Jade had taken over the dance floor. Brian cowered behind you, asking what he should do, desperate to make it clear to your friend how hard he'd fallen for her, without scaring her away. Roger bought you some shots for being so bold in his honor, and John stayed close. Not nearly as close as you might have liked, but closer than ever before, shooting drunken quips and questions your way. You were too tipsy to hide your blush. You wondered if John was too drunk to notice.

///

You didn't have far to travel, but the early morning ride seemed like the longest of all. Jade left you all with hangovers, booking it to her train station without saying goodbye.

The bus was somber, with everyone sulking in their respective spots. Freddie and Roger scribbled over notes at the table. Rita and Ratty hogged the sofa, kicking Lilly toward an empty bench of her own, where she fell asleep. You sat reading in the seat next to John. His arms were crossed and his eyes were closed, yet still, in his shutdown state, you could feel his presence like a looming storm cloud.

Brian sat strumming an acoustic nearest Elizabeth, both pretending to be focused on anything besides each other. The lanky guitarist had taken to following Elizabeth around everywhere like a lovesick puppy. You watched as he stole her away with excuses to help fix his hair- to ask her opinion on a certain hotel's free library and its selection- to sit next to him at dinner. You watched as she agreed, and smiled and leaned into his side when he gestured her closer to ask something over some loud pub speakers. You watched your friend fuss over all her best flared out pants, and boots, asking if you thought she looked alright... If you thought Brian would think so. You promised Elizabeth she had nothing to worry about with a sure nod.

It was the same gesture you gave her now, across the bus, when Brian abandoned his guitar in her lap without question, on his way to fetch a snack.

"I'm so bloody sick of this shite." Roger grumbled, swatting away Brian's offer of some fresh fruit, the only thing the bus cabinets had to offer, this afternoon. Roger stood from his spot across from Freddie, giving some passionate speech about all the things he was hungry enough to eat, how badly he wanted a proper meal.

You all laughed as he devised a plan to race to the nearest eatery the second the bus stopped. Freddie declared his grand plans for sleeping away the next fifteen hours of truly free time, wondering how half of the bus had fallen into cat naps with such ease on the ride that jostled through the winter weather. John with his eyes still closed, spoke up, startling you, saying something about how he'd never been asleep but hoped if he pretended long enough, he'd eventually find real rest.

When the next hotel beckoned from outside the foggy tour bus windows, Roger raced for the door, inviting anyone who was also famished to come to join in his afternoon plans to feast. Brian nodded to Elizabeth, who shrugged and followed along with a grin.

John lept after the small party, demanding they wait for him to join. You laughed at their desperation, how the boys were in the midst of living out their wildest dreams, yet all they wanted was some warm lunch.

When you looked up from collecting your books, bag, and coat; Brian, Roger, and Elizabeth were zooming down the steps chanting like school kids on their race to the mess hall, and John was standing at the end of your seat.

"You comin'?"

///

Roger strung you all along like the sky was falling and you only had an hour left to find nourishment before the end of times. How you all fit into the back of one cab, you weren't sure. The patient driver helped your gang locate the nearest, nicest restaurant and laughed when Roger was the first out of the ride, dancing up to the double doors of some cabin-esque eatery with their specials presented in faded chalk, in the ice-covered picture window.

You and Elizabeth sat across from the boys in the band, who dreamed of home while impatiently waiting for your orders to cook. Brian compared the fireplace in the back of the place to his families. John was delighted to find his favorite dish on the menu. And Roger acted as if he'd been admitted into high heaven, simply pleased to be sat in one place with nothing more to do than enjoy himself, and some real food.

The five of you laughed for hours, enjoying the extra-large cups of cocoa on sale during the storm you'd arrived in the middle of.

"It's so nice to have absolutely nothing to do. We could stay here all night and we wouldn't miss a thing." Brian chirped, smiling to the barista who traded his empty cup of cocoa for a new fresh one.

"I don't know how you boys do it, I surely would have lost my voice after so many shows in a row." You pipped up, always in awe of how hard they worked.

"Well, Deacy barely has a voice so-" Roger jeered.

"You leave him be!" Elizabeth crushed an empty sugar packet and flung it toward the drummer, who feigned shock. You glanced across the table, catching John's gaze. His had already been settled on you, and when you noticed, he looked down with a grin, twisting the ring on his very middle finger.

///

Love was dangerous. One taste, one blurry vision of the adoration you always dreamed of, and common sense flew out the window. You and Elizabeth were busy gushing over the picture-perfect time you'd spent with three-fourths of your very favorite band. How close your two favorites had been for the few hours you spent making Roger's simple dream come true.

Instead of getting ready for the next show in a timely manner, you and your friend chattered away about the night before, and you'd missed the bus to the venue. Rita had all the extra passes, and you absolutely panicked on your race to make it on time.

Outside the propped open backstage doors were two burly men you hadn't seen earlier in the day. They stood inside of a stone foyer, out of the snow like royal guard. Neither of them budged when you and your friend rushed up to explain what had happened, begging to slip inside the already open entry.

You had nothing to show but desperation, and the men weren't standing for your girlish desire. What else could you have done? Elizabeth took her turn at begging when just passed the propped open doorway, a familiar face floated near.

"Lilly!" Elizabeth shouted, waving past the well-built men who blocked your entry. The small blonde halted and peeked her head around one of the men's shoulders with a wicked grin.

"Oh, please tell them we know you! We don't have our passes!" Elizabeth breathed, bending her knees as she begged.

"Doesn't matter. Can't get in without a pass." The taller guard sighed. Lilly put on a frown, listening to your friend's pleas.

"Oh, here." Lilly clicked her tongue, reaching in her bag and unveiling a shiny orange sticker she'd had on standby. As the blonde reached through the security guards to hand the pass to your friend, you practically heard heavens gates creak open.

When Elizabeth moved to snatch the sticker, Lilly latched onto her wrist and pulled the girl inside, as the guards reluctantly stepped aside.

"Oops. That was the last one I had." Lilly's always evil smile had long foreshadowed this power play. She shot you a look reminiscent of the glare that haunted your dreams.

"No, come on, she's really with us!" Elizabeth turned around and reached out for you. But the guards snapped back into place, clearly on the side of the wicked witch who was already skipping deeper inside, stalling to pull Elizabeth along.

"Oh my God!" You shouted in disbelief.

"Don't move an inch, I'll be right back!" Elizabeth yelled from where she moved in a hurry inside, just before one of the big tall men slammed the door shut without blinking an eye.

You slumped in disbelief, crossing your arms to shield the cold that came along with the falling snow. The guards paid you no mind from their small shelter as you paced back and forth, trying to keep your cool, all the same. Maybe it was the weather reducing you to shivers, but Elizabeth seemed to be gone much longer than it took to find a pass to pull you back in.

"The hell are you doing?" A voice called from behind where you stood freezing, trying to hold back frustrated tears. Ratty stood with a big clunky case in hand and a cigarette between his lips. He was a sight for sore eyes.

"We were late." You greeted through the sorry explanation.

"Christ," Ratty flicked his cigarette toward the fence and reached into his coat pocket for an extra pass.

"Come on." He uttered, handing the sticker your way, nodding for you to follow him inside. The guards shot you a glare as one moved to open the door, while the other stepped aside. You unpeeled the sticker and placed it proudly on your coat, determined for that to never happen again.

"Oh, Deacy..." Ratty sang as you stepped in time with the roadie, behind the stage. John had only been around the corner, fiddling with an amp no doubt. He was dressed for the show already, a shy smile included. You tried to shake the snowflakes tangled in your hair, embarrassed by how silly you must have looked.

"I've gotten the things you need, my friend." Ratty held out the case to John, who approached as you walked his way.

"You have, haven't you?" John replied to Ratty, but kept his studying eye on you, his grin turning to a frown. "Where've you been?" John asked, seemingly concerned by how cold you must have looked.

"We were late. Lilly apparently only had one extra pass for Elizabeth, who went searching for another..." You sighed through a polite smile.

"Rita has them all. She went looking for you, Rat." John quirked a brow, taking the case from the slim man at your side. Ratty huffed and nodded toward the green room, where everyone in question would likely end up sooner or later.

The three of you shuffled that way in silence, and if you'd ever glance to John at the right moment, you'd notice he was stealing looks at you too. When the bassist reached out, placing his hand on the small of your back as the three of you entered the green room, you felt like you belonged. Like he wanted you there. The shiver his fingertips sent up your spine was different from the chill you'd felt lingering outside moments ago.

As you arrived, Freddie seemed to sigh in relief, greeting you with a sweet lilt in his voice. As Ratty met an impatient Rita near the wardrobe, and Elizabeth came running in, just in time.

"Is Rita back? Oh-" Your friend found you shedding your coat in the corner, reaching out like you'd been found from a deserted island after years away.

Lilly followed, rolling her icy eyes when she noticed you'd found your way.

"Look who made it in, no thanks to you." Elizabeth muttered in the small blonde's direction, who breezed into the room like she owned it.

"It is a triumph, considering neither of you belong here, anyway." Lilly spat, not even bothering to look in your direction. As she waltzed past where John had opened the case Ratty gifted him, the bassist slammed it shut and looked right at the girl.

"Would you get the fuck out, Lilly? You're the one who shouldn't be here. You make everyone feel like such shite, they're too afraid to tell you otherwise." John snapped, causing a stunned silence to fall over the room.

Everyone watched on as Lilly turned red hot, her fists balled up at her side, ears steaming, eyes searching for her next victim. She whipped in Roger's direction.

"Aren't you going to defend me?" She cursed, watching the blonde lean against the counter where all Freddie's eyeliner waited to be put to use.

"No." Roger spoke, plain as day, with the shake of his pretty hair.

With that, Lilly let out a string of curses as she stomped out of the room. But before you could celebrate, Rita came alive from the corner of the room.

"That was totally unnecessary." The tall redhead scolded John as she collected her coat. You watched the man hold back a chuckle at her mismarked anger.

"You finally speak up and that's what you have to say?" Ratty yelled, stepping to meet Rita on her way out the door.

"It's time!" A man with a headset burst in, waving the band to fall in line. Commotion swept through the room and out into the hall as everyone bickered and cheered each other along. You and Elizabeth were the last to leave after you'd picked your jaws up from the floor and laughed like loons over the scene you'd watched unfold.

When you finally made it to the side of another stage, something came over the two of you. You followed Elizabeth past a few snaking wires, down some stairs and into the back of the concert hall. Stragglers gathered and marveled over your orange passes that permitted you backstage where you belonged.

You danced along with fans who'd traveled through the storm to hear the music. And Queen proceeded to play the best show you'd seen the entire tour, or ever at all.

///

In an impressive hurry, the conference room of the hotel you'd rented was decked in streamers, and drink carts were set up in almost every corner. The band was greeted with cheers and toasts, all to celebrate the show they'd just performed.

For weeks you watched as they kept in tune, in time and impressed crowds all over the country. You'd gotten chills at every solo and sound. Yet tonight was better than all the best before. And since the boys had a three day weekend ahead of them, a proper party was in order.

Ratty sent everyone on a mission to set up the perfect spontaneous shindig. He took to the crowd, in charge of inviting the right kind of people to the afterparty. You stuck with Elizabeth to set up the celebration, and the hotel was more than happy to help. The lady at the front desk waved you back to the kitchen to select the best kind of sweets they had on hand, to set out for your pending guests. She even let you at a storage closet full of streamers and decor for moments such as now.

All the while, Lilly and Rita remained missing. But no one missed them much, as you downed champagne and mingled with fans who poured into the party and gushed over the music, and the boy's accomplishments.

Freddie arrived already buzzed from the ride to the party, and Roger was the perfect pseudo-host. He went around, clapping backs, sharing smiles, and passing bottles from stranger to stranger. And somehow, when you found Brian, he was already plastered, closer to crashing into sobriety than the others who were just getting started.

"Congrats Bri." You grinned, reaching out to pull the guy in for a hug. He didn't let go when you pulled away, instead clung to your shoulders for balance as he asked,

"Where's Beth? I want her to congratulate me." Brian spoke, barely keeping it together.

"Brian, oh no. Don't call her that, she hates that." But as you warned, he wasn't listening. And while he twisted in place to scan the crowd he found Elizabeth posing for a photo with Ratty, near the table of sweets.

"Oh, there I see her!"

"Don't call her-"

"Beth! Love, can you believe it? We've earned ourselves a party!"

Brian bound her way, arms outstretched like some big cuddly rag doll. And despite the nickname your friend once scolded you badly enough to remember to never call her again, she smiled. She leaned into Brian and shook her head at the way he rambled, and held his hand as he spoke right to her.

You watched on with a grin, and meandered further into the room, reveling in the knowledge that tonight would be one you'd look back on and tell your families about for ages. Then someone called your name.

"Come sit, we've got first dibs to the bar." Freddie motioned you over to some hideously cushioned wicker furniture, just on the edge of the gathering crowd.

"There are plenty of bars around tonight, Fred." You laughed, glancing at one of the mini stations set up in every corner.

"This one is nearest to the kitchen, love."

"And we've got the key." John boasted from the matching loveseat facing the throne Freddie made of his wicker chair. As you laughed, the bassist waved you over, and you'd be a fool to back away. You sat at John's side, trying not to drool over his tight-fitting suit. He was just as drunk as his counterparts, wasted enough to get up and start dancing like he did. But he didn't budge. He settled deeper into the sofa next to you.

"You." Freddie pointed behind the place you sat, barely managing to tame your heartbeat. A kid with coke bottle glasses stumbled closer, clearly stunned by Freddie's favoritism.

"Bring us back something clear and toxic." Freddie held a shinny key between his fingers, waving it toward the kitchen door. "And fetch a little something for yourself, darling."

The kid nodded, nearly bowed, snatched the key, and slipped in the back when he was sure no one was looking. John burst into a fit of giggles at your side as you and Freddie traded smug smiles. The dark-headed singer spun off into a made-up monologue about the laws he'd enforce if he were queen for a day. You joined John in laughing until it hurt, until the kid with the glasses popped out of the kitchen with vodka in hand.

You reached out for the kid to pass the drink to you, joking about how the other boys were too far off their rockers to be in charge. He even handed over a few spare cups before handing the key to Freddie with a nervous grin. You poured the kid a glass first, as thanks. He took the drink and nervously slinked off to the corner while Freddie demanded the next cup. When it came time for you to offer some to John, you felt the cushions shift. He'd leaned forward to where you worked at the coffee table.

"I'm so glad you're here," John muttered, right in your ear. All your senses shut down and reopened with a thousand nerves on end. His shoulder pressed into yours as you passed the cup of vodka his way. He smiled and said a small thank you before leaning back, leaving you to pour your own, very tall drink.

The night passed by in blurb, like the world around you had been set to super speed. But you stood still, taking the occasional sip of alcohol. Freddie fled his throne to dance. Ratty passed by to steal the vodka, arguing with John, who filled both your glasses before letting the roadie take the bottle. You thought you notice Roger kicking cans of beer from tabletops.

All the while, John never left your side. When he reached for the key Freddie entrusted him, John let his arm drape over the back of the sofa. When a certain song came on, he leaned over to tell you how much he liked it. But mostly, he chatted to fans who plopped in the seats nearby, to extend their congratulations.

When a record screeched to a halt and the crowd groaned collectively, you stood up. As another track started to play, you moved to the exit, daring to look over your shoulder to the place you'd abandoned John. A girl you didn't recognize had taken your spot, and John wasn't looking back.

You knew his closeness had been driven by the drinks he'd downed. But it still stung to realize. It still hurt to understand you were just another passing face in his world that never stopped spinning in different fast-paced directions. When you made it up to your room, the quiet was almost welcome.

It wasn't long before you slipped into your pj's and dimmed most of the light, until Elizabeth burst in.

"I'm gonna do it." She announced, out of breath like she ran all the way here to tell you so. "I'm gonna stay with Brian."

You knew this had been coming, and at long last. You encouraged your best friend to jump into her jammies and bolt out the door. And when she did, you knew everything was as it should be, even for you. Even though the quiet pierced your ears, now. You knew tonight was one you'd remember forever. But you never dreamed it would end this way.

///

You awoke to a crashing. Muted hollers echoed from the hall, while the sun beamed through the curtains you forgot to shut. Your head pounded from the party the night before, but the ruckus from the hall was enough to drive you out from under the covers in a hurry.

You opened the door, rubbing your eyes to find clothes and shoes flying out from a doorway and toward an open suitcase at the end of the hall. Then Roger staggered out, dodging a pair of heels that zoomed dangerously passed his head. Lilly emerged no sooner, throwing the rest of her things into the suitcase on the ground, yelling at the drummer the whole time. He stood, listening, taking it. So you stood, crossing your arms, watching Lilly throw her fit, delighted at the sight of her leaving, no matter how dramatic it might have been.

When she grabbed the handle of her hastily zipped bag, she cursed her way toward the elevators. When the doors closed, Roger turned, noticed you, and laughed. His excitement morphed into a grimace as he lifted a hand to his head- he'd had much more to drink than you.

You gave the blonde a small wave and chuckled as you crept back into your sickeningly bright room. You snagged some pills from Rita's opened suitcase, stole some of Elizabeth's shampoo, and prepared for the day ahead and whatever it might bring.

The hotel was eerily quiet, the commotion from the party and Lilly's fit reduced to echoes in your memory and nothing more. There wasn't even a soul to be found in the breakfast bar, each chair in place. You picked one and ordered a hot drink, wondering what other ghosts haunted the place you seemed to exist alone in.

You only got to sulk for a few minutes. Elizabeth skipped through the halls, bounding to pull a seat up next to you, a frantic mess of giggles. You grinned, taking a sip of your drink as you watched her slouch across from you, biting her lip into a smile.

"He kept calling me Beth. And I kind of liked it."

You both burst into chuckles, heads thrown back in the early morning, despite having barely caught a wink of sleep. She ordered a drink, and some breakfast when you asked why she wasn't still with Brian. She explained that his head hurt too badly to move yet, and she was famished.

So she split her breakfast with you and told you all the details she was willing to share. You laughed the whole time, fawning over each dreamy scenario, pausing only to announce how lucky she was and how happy you were for your friend. You'd known all of Brian's trustworthy motives, having spent many a long night coaxing him to sweep your best friend off her feet. A piece of your soul settled knowing they were finally together.

Roger and Freddie interrupted your giggle-fest to join in breakfast, complaining about their aches and pains they would have slept away if Lilly's screaming hadn't rattled them into consciousness. When neither of them ceased whining, you stood to go fetch some more pain killers Rita kept on hand to pass out in times like now, and out of reach during most all other occasions.

When you got to the room, nothing was much the same as when you'd left it an hour ago. The cleaning service had come and made your bed. And Rita was there, clamping her suitcase shut.

"You're leaving?"

The redhead turned to you with a heavy sigh that seemed to be her answer.

"I don't belong here anymore, babe." Rita shrugged when your twisted expression wasn't eased.

"You can't leave..." You cautioned, but for all the wrong reasons. Elizabeth had made it clear that she planned to switch roommates, and that was good news indeed. But if Rita left, you'd be alone. And you couldn't afford to rent more rooms all on your own, for the rest of the tour.

Rita didn't explain much further as she hoisted her bags toward the door. You remembered why you came up in the first place, asking her for some of the pain killers she always kept. You half encouraged the girl to stick around to keep mothering the lot of you, joking that the whole show would fall apart if she left you lot on your own. She only traded you the bottle of pills and a sorry smile before spinning toward the elevators with her bags in hand.

You'd felt alone in the space before, but you hadn't ever felt the way you did, now. Like everything was over. Not just the tour as you knew it. Not just your place on the ride. But like life had shifted into a new, dull grey territory right before your eyes.

///

"Here you are, then." You tossed the bottle of pain killers to Roger, who still managed to catch it in one hand despite his sluggish state. The rest of the band had all flocked to the breakfast table you'd claimed earlier in the day, watching the sun dip lower in the sky. And even though your throat went dry as they glanced up your way, you announced that you had something to say.

"I'm going home." You declared with wimpy confidence.

Everyone gapped at you, waiting for the penny to drop. But you'd already said what you needed to.

"No, you're not." Elizabeth laughed, standing from the spot you'd left her in a bit ago. Funny how some things never changed even when everything else did...

"Rita just left and there's no way I can cover a room all on my own for another week and a half," You explained, watching your friend shake her head. Elizabeth pulled you away from the group, and back toward the elevators.

"You're not leaving me on tour with a bunch of boys." Elizabeth declared, pushing the buttons to send you to the proper floor.

You argued with her all the way up to the room. You watched your friend collect her things, finding tubes of lipstick and shoes mixed among your collection. She combated all your excuses with her own, while she packed her bags.

"We'll figure something out, okay?" Elizabeth spoke up, toting her things into the hall. "But you're not leaving."

You could see the boys making their way back to their rooms, as your friend left you on your own. You let her, and couldn't help but smile when you watched Brian take her suitcase in his hand as they swept into his room. But before you could turn and face the inevitable, you were stopped once more.

"You can stay with me, if you'd like."

John stood in your doorway, with his hands shoved in his tight pockets. Oh, no way.

"I'm not a groupie John." You sneered. You had no interest in being a temporary roommate.

"I never said you were. In fact, I'm glad you're not." John chuckled. It made you hate how much you adored him. He really wasn't interested in you, huh?

"I just don't want-"

"I want you to stay with me." He seemed sure, he wasn't even asking. He never really did ask, did he? John looked at you as if you didn't have a choice. Reluctantly, you let yourself feel glad that you didn't have much of one. And then you hesitantly packed your bags.

When you got to the room John had been staying in for two nights in a row, he hadn't done much to celebrate the small stability. His bags were in the corner and the lights were dim. You tossed your things into an opposite corner.

That night, you barely spoke to each other, and you curled on the sofa to sleep your worries away.

///

The snow had ceased but the chill in the air cut to the bone. It was torture to walk from the bus toward the plane. It was small, much smaller than the already cramped tour bus. Maybe having less friends along for the ride had its perks after all...

The boys were dressed to impress, knowing they'd land to a dozen flashing cameras and excited fans. You and Elizabeth settled in the back, accepted some complimentary flutes of champagne, and buckled up for another long ride. The boys gathered around for some kind of meeting to discuss the last leg of the tour.

She never asked. Elizabeth just kept giving you this look, coxing you to spill any details on what your stay in John's room had been like. And when the plane reached its altitude, you'd had enough of your friends daring glares.

"I slept on the sofa." You admitted through a sigh.

Elizabeth dropped the magazine she'd pretended to be interested in, to her lap, and turned to you with wide eyes. When you met her glance, she swatted you on the shoulder with a disgruntled huff.

"One month left." She rose a manicured nail. "You have one month left of this year and I will not let you live it on sleeping on his sofa."

You snorted a laugh. She sure had come a long way since diving headfirst, last minute, into her new year's resolution. Just then, the boys broke away from business, and Elizabeth perked up.

"John, dear, this seat isn't taken!" She stood to shuffle toward Brian, but you knew her motives were mostly with you in mind.

John could have kept walking and sat next to Ratty, behind you. He could have stayed where he sat, still. But John stood up and waltzed over to where Elizabeth had fled, with a grin on his face. As he settled next to you, he crossed his arms and closed his eyes. You turned toward the window, trying to jot down every detail of the land below you, knowing it would always be there, and you could come back to it, but nothing would never be exactly as it was now, ever again.

///

After another kick-ass show, the unruly group you'd been trailing across cities and skies with seemed eager to go their separate ways.

Roger took off, into the town you'd barely learned the name of, hot on the trail of a tall brunette. Freddie invited a cast of characters back to the hotel; you watched as strangers filled up the bus before the band was even finished tearing their set down. And Elizabeth canceled your plans; one's you'd made on the ride to the show, to go to dinner just the two of you and spend the whole night catching up. Even though she'd just been down the hall for a night and a half, you decidedly missed each other already.

But Elizabeth was easily coaxed away at Brian's simple suggestion to take her on a real proper first date. And you couldn't blame her. In fact, you were the one who pushed the girl out of the green room and made her stop asking if you'd hate her for taking a rain check.

That left you, and John. He shrugged on his coat as the last of the strangers Freddie invited shuffled passed to catch the bus. And when he noticed Elizabeth turn to wave goodbye, John frowned as if she'd been letting him down, all along.

"I'm happy for her," You spoke up decidedly, stepping to trail behind the group of partiers headed for your ride. "but I may secretly never forgive her. I was pretty excited to waste the last of my cash on a five-star dining experience we probably would have spent just drinking anyway."

John laughed, a solid, made for the big screen, award-winning laugh. And when you stepped out into the bitter cold, anxious to make it to the bus before catching hypothermia, John curled his fingers around your arm and yanked you the opposite way.

"Uh, where are you abducting me to?" You weren't nervous about where you were headed, just the fact that John seemed so keen to lead you there.

"To a five-star dining experience, duh." John hailed a cab that slowed on the glistening street in perfect time. As he reached to open the door, the man stopped you from arguing all the same.

"And I'll even make sure you still have cash left to waste, don't worry." The bassist pressed his elegant fingers into your shoulder blades, ushering you into the ride.

///

"Thanks for being so hospitable miles away from home." You uttered, stabbing a fork into a salad that cost as much as your rent back home. The place you sat now was saturated in amber light, a warmth you had to swim through to reach for your glass of water across a massive marble table. John sharing his room was one thing, but a lavish meal was another.

"Home is where the heart is, right?" John shrugged, taking a sip of the beer still floating above the bottom of his bottle.

"And I happen to know yours is in the countryside, don't be coy." You teased, shoving a fancy basket of chips toward the middle of the table, gesturing for him to take a few.

Your conversation started slow, with carefully formulated quips, questions, and answers. But once you'd mentioned the few keywords, subjects that sparked to life in his brilliant grey eyes, John was an open book.

He yammered about growing up. You asked about music. He wondered about the future. You laughed about now. And maybe it was the late hour or the exhaustion of the never-ending ride setting in, but you laughed all the way home, too.

You were shaking away the hysteria on your walk toward the hotel. And by the time you reach the halls, you'd both gone silent as the day you met, keeping your smiles polite and your eyes hidden away.

He was the first to get ready for bed. You called the front desk for an extra set of blankets, propped some throw pillows in place on a new tiny sofa, and rummaged for your bedclothes beneath the mess of trousers you couldn't choose from earlier in the day.

You slipped past John when he emerged from the ensuite, almost like you were trying to avoid each other. The bathroom was full of leftover steam that fogged the mirror, quickly fading from the corners. As you took your turn cleaning up you tried not to think of how close this was to being over. How you'd miss Freddie's jokes, the ones he'd tell under his breath just to you. How you'd miss Roger's questions, and the odd times he'd settle in for a chat, even if he didn't seem to have the time. You'd miss Brian begging for your help in catching Elizabeth's attention. You would still have her at the end of this, to dreamily reminisce with while you danced around to records, like always. But you'd miss John most of all.

The lights were out when you crept back into the room. Even the moon was out of sight in the window it's dull shine outlined. On your way toward the sofa, where some blankets remained neatly folded just for you, John stopped you. From the place on the edge of the bed where he'd settled in the dark, he rose a hand to your wrist. Not grabbing on, just letting his fingers brush against your skin. Even the smallest bit of contact with the guy sent sweat to your palms.

Only when you turned to glance at John, did he let his fingers press against your arm, gently pulling you to sit at his side. The shadows of the room might have covered his face if you were any further away. But you were close enough to see the specks of color in his steel-grey eyes.

Did he know what he was doing to you? Could he hear the thud of your heart? Did John realize how much you adored him? You nearly couldn't handle being so close, closer than ever before. When you opened your mouth to warn him, no sound escaped.

John took your failed warning as an invitation to lean closer. You were suddenly glad you'd neglected to give notice to your nerves- when he closed the space left between you to press his lips against yours.

He kissed you slowly, almost timidly. Just the way most all of your other interactions with him had started out. When you kissed John in return, he stopped holding back. His gentle pecks ended when his lips parted against yours, setting the rhythm of your heart into overdrive. It was one of the kisses that there weren't words for. All of the reserved glances, every shared silence, had led up to now. Everything you'd tried to say, to make clear to John seemed to be relayed in the way you kissed each other.

You only stopped to breathe, but when the quiet grew louder, you realized there was more to say than ever. And funnily enough, John spoke up first.

"I like you, ya know?" He whispered, still dangerously close. You could practically feel the words as he formed them.

"I sure hope so." You breathed. Because now you couldn't cling to the edge for dear life, you were free-falling, and he was the only one who could catch you.

Instead of meeting in the middle to kiss you again, he replied. "What do you want?"

"I want to stay with you." You smiled, nearly mocking the way he coaxed you into sharing his room for the rest of the tour. Instead of meeting him halfway for a kiss, you said something more. "But I'll keep wanting too. So don't start something with a finish line in mind."

"I don't plan on letting this end, love." John declared with a grin, looping an arm around your middle and pulling you close. "Besides, we're just getting started."

His low purr in your ear was the nail in the coffin. You couldn't help but melt against John. He pulled you into the jumbled sheets. You tangled your fingers in his mess of sandy waves of hair. He fit against you perfectly. You stayed with him.

///

"Where's my hairbrush?" Roger whined, scouring the vanity with big worried eyes. You stole the silver comb from under Freddie's nose, tossing the thing to the drummer.

"You actually brush this mane?" You tousled his blonde fringe, that seemed to already stand on end. Roger looked pissed at first, but when he glanced at the result of your action in the mirror, he stilled.

"This is better, actually." He shrugged, and you laughed, as Freddie twirled by to steal the comb once more.

"We're just going to the museum down the street. Are you really wasting your eyeliner for a field trip?" Brian asked, tapping his foot impatiently in the doorway on the suite that combined all of your rooms together, in the new, final city.

You'd all been in comfortably close quarters for the last couple days and a half, and yet when everyone's favorite roadie suggested going out to enjoy the last free afternoon, everyone stuck together to do it. Ratty led the way as you all waltzed in pairs between a few buildings lined with piles of snow that quickly melted under the usually beaming sun. Freddie and Roger. Elizabeth and Brian. You and John.

He'd become a permanent fixture on your side, always reaching for your hand, stepping in time with you from place to place. You basked in his glow, and waved from whatever side of the stage you ended up near, not entirely unlike before.

When your gang flooded into the big quiet art gallery, Roger made you laugh, posing with marble statues and making you do the same, asking Freddie to snap your photo. Brian read plaques like stories for you all to hear while still fixated on the art he spoke for. You sat with Elizabeth and watched on with pride while a group of fans flagged the boys down. You and your best pal shared knowing looks before floating away from each other, and back toward the guitarists who'd been glad you managed to find your way on tour.

The last show was watched on by a bevy of film cameras. The boys in your favorite band played hard. You could practically envision the music notes floating away from the chords they struck in flawless synchronicity. Ratty stood, biting his nails ready to exchange instruments and wires in too big of a hurry, wishing there were more roadies to share the worry with.

"Calm down, this is going perfectly." You assured, squeezing the slim man's bicep. Ratty nodded and seemed to still. He'd come to ask you and Elizabeth's opinion, on all sorts of things, but most music. Ratty had watched you and your friend dance to the music night after night with the same unbridled excitement for the very first show. You'd become friends and confidants with the roadie, but above all things, you were still a fan. And not a performance passed without you and Elizabeth geeking out over the music.

Everything was perfect. But you knew better of course. You knew things would be different back where you started. You knew the spell you'd been caught up end might skid to a permanent stop when the tour bus wheels did. But there was no harm in losing yourself in the days that lasted, passing by too quickly.

Even as Brian made plans for your best friend to meet his family after they landed, you knew she'd only gotten lucky. Love like that only ever came once in a lifetime. But Queen seemed to have tapped into a wealth of fortune. And those boys deserved every bit of good they had coming.

///

You stood around the baggage claim carousel watching your friends rub their tired eyes. The tour was over, even though you'd known the day was coming, the realization hit you with all the subtlety of crashing into a brick wall.

That morning, you'd awoken with time to relish the way John slept soundly at your side. You watched the sunrise shine through his hair, relaxing under the weight of his arm that pulled you closer under the covers. You followed his lead, packing your things and hauling out to catch another plane, almost like usual. You were glad for the way he'd napped on your shoulder on the ride, afraid of letting him notice how scared you were for what came next.

John kept an arm around your waist all the way back where you came from, and you kept your head lulling back against his shoulder, terrified of what might happen the moment you stepped away to grab your bags. (If they'd ever show up)

Brian and Elizabeth were the first to leave. You watched the guitarist pull your best friend away from the group after a few unceremonious goodbyes. She turned to give you a final, nervous wave; a message you understand was code for her intention to phone you later.

Roger second, joking how he was sick of all of you, spinning around to take it back as Ratty raced to leave, too.

Freddie was last, but certainly not least.

"I'm off to sleep for a week!" He declared, slipping on a pair of bedazzled sunglasses. "But I'll be so glad to see you again the first of the year, darling." Freddie kissed your cheek and spun through the glass doors, headed for home. Before you had time to fret over Freddie's implied invitation, John offered up a real one.

"You'll come along to America, won't you?" He asked, tightening his hold around your middle.

"You want me to?" You asked feebly, daring to look into his cloud colored eyes.

"Of course. I don't think I can go most anywhere without you, now." John's smile reached his eyes as you bit back a grin, twirling a strand of his hair around his finger.

"Well, what about now?" You ventured to ask, holding your breath. You watched John lift a brow and search your face, the beginnings of a new sort of grin painting his own features.

"You'd come back to mine?"

"Of course."

And you did. You followed John right through the doors of his humble flat, joking how you'd already packed a bag. You shared John's space, his bed, his breakfast, his shampoo- but only once. You were quick to head to the market and by him a better brand, the best because he deserved it. John pulled you in for a dozen kisses, assuring he already had the best things life had to offer, all of them regarding you.

///

Before you knew it, it was time to hit the road once more. You'd saved almost every paycheck, except for one you blew on a dozen new outfits, and packed accordingly, and much more wisely than the time before. By now half of your things were mixed in with John's, anyhow.

"It's the start of a very happy new year! What's your resolution?" Elizabeth squeaked, as you rushed through airport terminals to greet your dearest friend. You hadn't seen much of her in the time since the last tour, but the music still led you back together, crashing into a long-awaited hug. Her dark curls were a little longer, and her style was still just as immaculate.

She escorted you onto the plane, where you'd found most of the rest of your crew.

You ruffled Roger's hair and leaned in for a photo with Ratty before he moved to curl up and sleep the flight away. John yanked you to sit at his side as Brian was the last to board, creeping toward his seat next to your dear friend like a giant trapped in a toy plane.

Freddie sat ahead of you all, leaning over the back of the seats, fawning over you and Elizabeth much like he had the day you met him.

"How glad I am to see your bright shining faces! We couldn't possibly have a proper tour without our very own queenie and you, my star." Freddie flashed a smile over the seat you sat before.

"Watch it, she's taken," John warned Freddie with a laugh, reaching to grab your hand.

"And for that you're welcome!" Freddie pointed between John and Brian, boasting about how clever he was to have invited you and your friend along, how he had been an undercover, genius matchmaker, all along. As your flight took off, Freddie blabbered on about how it was Roger's turn, saying he knew this nice french girl who'd be perfect for the blonde. Everyone laughed as Freddie yammered on. You clutched John's hand the whole ride, fiddling with the ring on his finger.

///

You left the boys to navigate their way around the first stage of the tour, while you took across town to get lunch with Elizabeth. You joked about how it was just like the first time, when you'd waited around hours before the show you won tickets too. The only difference now, was the level of fondness in which you spoke about your favorite band who were busy setting up at the venue down the road.

She caught you up on all the long-winded stories about Brian she'd been sorting away. You'd told her what you and John had been up too. And then you took your time meandering back to the concert hall, arm in arm.

The pair of you flashed your backstage passes to the doorman who let you in with a smile. The halls were full of cases and wires and new roadies and crew members who nodded as you and Elizabeth floated toward the green room. The closer you got, the more people came into view Girls and guys in denim and velvet, chomping on bubblegum and giggling over each other hairstyles.

You shouldered past a few unfamiliar love-struck groupies with their gazes set on your favorite band. Their drooly slack jaws clamped into frowns when you and Elizabeth fell into the open arms of the boys who'd brought you along.

Some of the girls lingered in the green room when the band rushed toward the stage. You were right behind them as always, stalling in the shadows, offering thumbs-up, and giving good luck kisses. Queen took their places behind their instruments, breathing in time with the buzzing amps as the lights dimmed, and the crowd roared.

Roger thrashed his drums with a smile, as Freddie sang his heart out. Brian turned his gaze to the side of the stage as he sang into the mic. And John danced out further from the shadows than ever before.

It was even better than you remembered. It was the best. You and Elizabeth won so much more than free tickets on the radio that day. The music had always been your personal soundtrack to your world, but now it was your world. And it sounded even sweeter as John plucked away at your favorite bass line, flashing his smile in your direction. He was your ticket in, tonight. And hopefully, many more nights to follow.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

taglist: @joeneslee @rogertaylorsangeleyes @imtheinvisiblequeen

#john deacon x reader #john deacon fanfiction #john deacon imagine #john deacon #queen fanfiction #queen imagine #queen x reader

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ve1vetyoongi · 5 years ago

Text

Operation: Love Letters | 01

💌 CHAPTER INDEX 💌

♡ ⇢ pairing: ot7 x reader.

♡ ⇢ chapter word count: 5k

♡ ⇢ genre: mystery, college!au, romance, fluff, eventual smut.

♡ ⇢ warnings/rating: none, PG.

♡ ⇢ summary: When every student on campus is going crazy about a survey that claims to make true love bloom, your best friend manages to convince you to join in on the fun — except you’re disappointed to find out that your results just seem to be lost causes. That is until a love letter from a mysterious secret admirer turns up and you find yourself on a mission to find the person behind the pen — but you quickly realise it’s going to be a lot harder than you initially thought when you have 7 possible bachelors to investigate, right? Operation: Love Letters a-go!

♡ ⇢ schedule: updated every day at 5pm GMT in the run up to Valentine’s Day 2020!

💌 A/N: hello! i’ve been working on this series for a couple weeks now and it makes me so happy to finally be able to share it in the run up to valentines day! as the story progresses, there’ll be a ton of clues dropped about who the identity of the secret admirer is before the final reveal...so keep reading to find out! i hope you like it hehe, drop me an ask and lemme know your theories!! <3

You scoff as you read the flier you crumple in your hand. It's that time of year again, huh? February. Valentine's. The month of love.

Yeah right.

Every year your college holds a charity event for Valentines day. You fill out a survey nicknamed the Love Calculator, where you answer so called "deep" questions about yourself and most importantly what you look for in a Valentine's date — and then a computer analyses your answers and, for just a couple bucks, works some cupid style magic and matches you up with your ‘most compatible’ person on campus.

The instructions say you're supposed to send a love letter to your number one match. And if they respond? Then it's a match made in heaven! Insert eye roll here.

It's conceited really, just a ploy to draw money out of the student body with the promise of true love — which is exactly why you've never joined in with the hype before.

Until this year, that is, when your best friend Jimin, ever the hopeless romantic, managed to convince you to sign up. Which is how you find yourself in the gymnasium, surrounded by heart shaped balloons and the cheesy cover of I Wanna Know What Love Is that plays over head, stuffed into a booth as you fold up your survey and scribble your name on the front with a roll of your eyes.

Jimin's beanie falls across his face as he excitedly rummages around in the satchel slung across his torso to fish around for a pencil, hopping from foot to foot as he places delicate crosses in the boxes beside Male and Looking for a soulmate.

"I still don't know about this." You murmur as you tap your foot and stare down at the pink piece of paper in your hand, nerves brewing inside you for a reason you can't quite put your finger on. There’s a reason you’ve never done this before -- what if you get someone weird as your first match? Or worse what if you aren’t compatible with anyone at all and you find out you’re destined to be painfully alone forever?

This is definitely a bad idea. You should just rip your survey up right now and throw it in the trash and nobody would ever have to know you even came here, even if just to entertain your best friend's fantasies.

But Jimin is too fast, snatching it from your fingers before you can protest and pulling you gleefully by the elbow over to the Calculation Station where he slides both of your surveys over to the cheerleader manning the desk with a dazzling smile, all much to your dismay.

"Oh come on, lighten up!" He says, clasping his hands together wistfully as he eagerly watches the cheerleader input your data into the computer. "This is gonna be so fun! Who knows? Maybe I'll match someone really hot and we'll get married and adopt the cutest babies ever--."

"Or you could match with a crazy serial killer." You interrupt with a raise of your brow.

Jimin shrugs. "I guess that would suck, but it would make an awesome Netflix Original. I'd totally get famous and win an oscar and—” He drags you over to the counter when he notices the cheerleader beckoning you with a finger. “Too late now anyway, our results are ready!"

The printer beside the desk spits out two pieces of paper, and the cheerleader glances over them with a nod before folding them up carefully and handing them over to you with a wink.

"Have a good day, and don't forget to spread the love!" She says, and you offer her a sheepish smile as you take your results.

Jimin is already pulling you out of the gym and into the hallway, finding a quiet corner where he eagerly unfolds his page with a grin that falls right from his face when he reads the names littered across his page surrounded by a plethora of hearts.

"What the heck! Are you kidding me?" Jimin thrusts his results beneath your nose so you can read the names for yourself. "I got Park Chanyeol as my number one match?"

You bite back a laugh. Jimin and Chanyeol had a fling last summer, but it ended on a sour note when Chanyeol ended up being allergic to Jimin's pet kitten who he refused to part with for anyone, no matter how hot.

"Maybe it was meant to be after all?" You laugh as Jimin crumples up his results and throws them into a nearby trash can with a childish pout.

"You were right. It was dumb. I would've been better off matching with a serial killer." Jimin grumbles, shoulders slumping forward as his dreams of true love crumble. He perks up when he notices you wringing your own results in your hands though, paper still sealed tightly. "Come on, your turn! Let's see who you got."

"Maybe I should just throw this in the trash, too. You said it yourself, the survey was dumb anyway." You shrug.

"Nope. I'm not letting you get away that easily." Jimin clasps his hands together, looking up at you with a pout. "Please? For me?"

You have to admit, there’s a strange fluttery feeling in your stomach as you turn the paper over in your hands. Who knows? Maybe Jimin was right, and the love of your life’s name was printed right on this here paper, and you were wasting your chance.

To hell with it! What's the worst that could happen, right?

"Fine! I'll open it."

Jimin claps giddily and with strangely shaky hands you unfold the paper, Jimin crowding around with his chin on your shoulder so you can both read your results.

Wow. You gaze down at the list of names you've never even heard of, strangely disheartened. You aren’t sure what you were expecting but this is not exactly the life changing love story you were promised when you handed over five bucks to that cheerleader just now.

You can't help but feel your stomach drop. Are you seriously disappointed? It's not like you had high hopes for this thing in the first place.

"Well damn," You crumple up the paper and drop it into your backpack with a chuckle, joining the hustle and bustle of students walking to class. "That was totally a waste of time."

Jimin pats your shoulder reassuringly. "Hey, you never know, someone could get your name and send you a love letter."

You raise your brows. "I appreciate the positivity but I don't think that's very likely."

“Don’t be such a downer! It’s the month of love after all.” Jimin slows down, heading towards the bathrooms. "I'll catch you up okay? All this excitement made me need to pee!" And with that he disappears into the little boy's room with an air kiss sent your way.

With a fond shake of your head you head towards your locker, thumbing in your combination and lurching open the metal door -- but your forehead furrows when something small and pink unexpectedly floats out and lands beside your feet.

"Huh?"

You bend down, fingers curling around a pearly pink envelope, eyes widening when you see who it's addressed to. You.

You turn it over in your hands, glancing side to side with narrowed eyes, but seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Could this be what you think it is? A love letter? Only one way to find out...

Your thumb slides beneath the heart shaped wax seal, hands trembling as you shake out the note folded up neatly inside and let your eyes fly across the messy words scrawled in pink pen with a gasp.

Your heart thumps. Your shaky fingers have left crumples along the edges of the paper, and you know you should throw it away before you even entertain the idea that this is real, let alone meant for you.

But your eyes keep tracing the pen strokes, the neat and even but unsteady handwriting; a nervous hand wrote this letter, you realise. A boy's hand. The letters are slanted just enough to tell, and there's smudges of ink where their wrist dragged carelessly across the page.

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

You jump at the sound of your name and shove the letter between the pages of a text book before slamming your locker closed just in time to flash your best friend what you hope is as close to a non-suspicious smile as you can muster as he bounds up the hall towards you.

"You ready to go to class?" Jimin asks, holding out his elbow and you nod. "It's a shame about the Love Calculator results huh? But who knows! Maybe we'll find Valentine's some other way."

"Yeah." You nod with a small smile, lost in thought as your mind drifts back to the love letter stowed away in your locker. "Maybe."

A smile appears on your lips. Maybe your results aren't so useless after all.

"From your secret admirer..."

You finish reading the love letter you found addressed to you in your locker with a triumphant smile, expecting a far more enthusiastic reaction from your roommate Yoongi. who just peers at you over the lid of his laptop with a bored expression.

"That's it?" He blinks. "You really paid five bucks for that?" He offers you a roll of his eyes as he watches you dance around your apartment waving around a piece of pink paper excitedly. "They didn't even leave their name?"

"Well duh," You slump down beside him on the couch, clutching the note to your chest and sending him an eye roll. "That would defeat the purpose of a secret admirer."

Yoongi just scoffs and goes back to his work with a shake of his head. "I can't believe you even did that stupid Love Caluclator thing. It's probably just a scam, anyway."

You pout, smoothing out the corners of the letter attentively. "You're just jealous nobody sent you a love letter."

Yoongi crosses his arms, flustered. "Am not! For your information I didn't even do the survey. Why would I care about what the results of a dumb survey have to say, anyway?"

You cock your head at him and dangle your results in front of his face teasingly. "Oh, so you won’t want to know who I matched with then if it's so dumb?"

He narrows his eyes with a puff, before snatching the paper with a shake of his head. "Fine. But only because you insisted."

You watch with a smug smile as Yoongi drags his finger down the list, distaste etched into his features as he reads each name out loud in turn before he splutters around the very last one.

"Hold up. You got me?" He chokes, holding up the page and pointing to where his name is printed in bold pink letters. Yoongi averts his eyes when you bust out laughing, crumpling up the paper and lobbing it at you with a scoff. "What did I tell you? It's dumb."

You clutch your sides and prod him with your foot as he grumbles under his breath. "Why? I thought you weren't scared of what a silly little survey has to say?"

"I'm not scared. Like I said, it's clearly a scam." Yoongi's cheeks heat up and he flashes you a look that tells you to quit teasing. "And this proves it."

"Oh don't get so worked up, Yoongi. I'm just messing with you." You unfold the paper and point to the biography beneath his name. "It says here we're only 10% compatible anyway, which kinda makes sense when you think about it. I'm a pretty decent roommate after all, right?"

Yoongi pushes away your results and buries his nose in a textbook instead. "You're being a pretty annoying roommate right now."

"Hey! Can you at least concentrate on this for a second? My love life finally gets interesting and you decide to do homework?"

Yoongi slams his book shut and finally turns to face you. "Jeez, Y/N, how can you even be sure the love letter isn't just...a prank or something? You're probably just wasting my time and your own getting caught up in it."

"Wow, you really have no faith in me huh?" You roll your eyes. "Because I just know. Whoever wrote this letter wanted me to read it. They left it in my locker on purpose! Is it so bad that I wanna know why?"

"Next thing I know you'll tell me you're going to actually try and find this person." Yoongi laughs breathily, but when he sees how you stare at him, arms crossed and unblinking, he lets out a groan. "Wait. You can't be serious?"

"Well why not?" You shrug. "What's the worst that can happen?"

"How do you even plan on finding them? All you have is a crumpled up note and a list of matches."

"Honestly, I haven't thought that far yet..." It's then that Yoongi turns the page of his textbook and a folded up note flutters onto the carpet. "Wait...what's this?"

He just shrugs, not even bothering to look up as you open up the paper. "I don't know. Must have been inside that book."

"Is it yours?"

Yoongi shakes his head, leaning back in his seat to stretch like he's exhausted by your interrogation. "Taehyung checked it out of the library this morning. He said I could borrow it. Why?"

Your eyes widen when you see what is written on the piece of paper in front of you.

"Hey! Look at this." You punch Yoongi in the shoulder, ignoring his ow! to run your fingers over the pen marks on the paper. "Don't the scribbles seem familiar to you?"

Yoongi rubs his arm with a bored expression. "I mean, I guess?"

"Goddammit, Min Yoongi! Would you take this seriously?" You fumble around in your pocket for the love letter, placing them side by side on the table, heart skipping a beat when you take in the similarities between the two. "Take a look at the handwriting. It's totally written by the same guy!"

Yoongi's own eyes widen, pursing his lips as he nods. "So what? Now you know he had a Bio quiz last week. Hundreds of students sat that test."

A smile grows on your face as an idea strikes you, and you rip the book from his grip. "Yeah, but how many of those students took out this exact book from the library?"

"I don't know — probably a few — hey!" He reaches for you as you get to your feet, but he's too late, and you're already taking off with his textbook. "Where are you going with that! I need to study!"

"I'll be back in a few hours, I promise." You call as you slip on your shoes and slide the book into your backpack."I just need to get to the bottom of who sent me this love letter first!"

It's almost silent in the campus library when you arrive, apart from the scratch of pens against paper from students with their heads bent over text books and the repetitive classical music that floats through the book shelves like a calming wave.

You head over to the check out desk in search of some guidance, perhaps able to interrogate the poor kid on duty about what he knows about the text book, but it's empty, and no matter how many times you ring the little bell on the counter, nobody comes.

With a sigh you duck behind the closest towering book case, dumping your bag so you can get down to business by yourself. Even if you had to search high and low, you had to find where this book came from. Surely it would give you a clue as to who sent you the love letter, right?

Blowing dust off an old stack of books, you drag your finger across the spines until you reach the B section, tongue between your teeth as you mindlessly thumb through books on Baking and Beaches and Birds before you come to a stop where you should come across Biology...except all that you find is a gaping hole that matches perfectly with the size and shape of book in your hands.

Dang. Already a dead end? Maybe Yoongi was right...hundreds of people could've checked out this book so this was probably a dumb clue anyway.

You're about to give up when a flash of a red sweater catches your eye through the gap in the shelf. There in the corner sits a lanky boy, so tall his legs stick out from beneath the desk he inhabits by the window. His fingers play with a silver pen, but he's not interested in the open notebook perched in front of him with lines half filled, too busy wiping away the condensation on the glass and gazing out at the hustle and bustle of the city in rush hour that juxtaposes the quiet company of books and dust he resides among.

Huh. Something strikes you about this dude, but you can’t quite put your finger on it yet. You duck behind the book shelf, moving a couple books to the side so you can peer between the leather spines to get a better look, and it's then that you notice the text book propped open beside him — Biology 101 — an exact copy of the one tucked beneath your elbow.

"Do you need help with something?"

You jolt when a pair of dark eyes appear and stare right back at you through the gap in the bookshelf, making you drop the textbook with a crash that elicits a series of harsh shhh! sounds from nearby. Upon further inspection you quickly realise it's the same guy you were spying on just moments ago, staring at you intently now as you stammer to form a response.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on people?" You grumble, clutching your chest and dipping down to grab the book and simultaneously hide your burning cheeks.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." He says, notebook deserted on the table behind him now so he can peer at you curiously through the shelves with a smirk. "It's just you looked sorta lost so I thought I'd offer my assistance."

He points to the name tag pinned to his sweater with a grin. Kim Namjoon — Librarian. Hold up...where have you heard that name before?

Oh god...you totally got his name in the Love Calculator Survey! Awkward.

It's okay, maybe he doesn't recognise you...

"It's Y/N, right?" He says as he straightens the books you knocked down earlier and thrusts a hand through the shelf for you to shake.

Dang it.

"That's me..." You take his hand with a sheepish smile, eager to escape the situation by walking to the end of the book case, but he just follows you, eyes bobbing above the spines of old books. "Wait..this might sound weird, but you don't know that because you happened to send me an anonymous letter do you?"

"Uh..." He's much taller when you finally step out of the aisle and come face to face, and he peers down at you intrigued but with confusion still evident in his voice. "No?"

Phew.

"Good to know. Just checking." He seems to find your rambling funny, biting back a smile as you jerk the Bio text book towards him. "Then uh, yeah, actually. I do need help. Have you seen this before?"

He scans the front, nodding his head slowly. "Biology 101. Yup, I've seen it. I might be wrong but I think that probably came from the science aisle."

You roll your eyes at his sarcasm. "No, I mean, have you seen it anywhere suspicious. Like someone shady reading it in a dark corner or smuggling it out of the library like drug cartel—"

"Nope. Pretty sure I saw a guy with blue hair check it out this morning though if that's who you're looking for?"

Taehyung. Damn it!

"Not quite." You cross your arms with a sigh before an idea strikes you. "Hey, is there any way you can see who checked this book out before?"

"I mean, yeah." Namjoon lifts the hatch of the check out desk and slips behind, flipping the book open to the first page and typing a couple numbers into the computer. "If I just scan this barcode..." You watch as he scans the book and turns the monitor towards you so you can watch as a document loads up. "It should give us a list of people who checked it out this semester."

An involuntary gasp leaves you when you read the list of names that pops up on the screen, eyes wide as you lower your voice to a whisper. "Is there any way I could get a copy of this?"

"Yeah, sure." Namjoon hits a button and the printer beside him spits out a mirror image of the document on his screen. You snatch it up with a breathy laugh, shoving it into your backpack and fishing around for your phone, thumbs moving across the screen at the speed of light to punch in a phone number you know by heart.

It quickly dawns on you that this mystery might be bigger than you ever expected -- and you wouldn’t be able to solve it alone. No. It was time to bring in the big guy. Park Jimin.

"Nah this shit is legit legit!" Jimin splutters as he flops back onto your bed. He's still in his cheer costume, rushing over to your place as soon as practice ended and he got the SOS call, and he let's out a gasp as his wide eyes scan the love letter for the nth time.

"So you'll help me find out who wrote it?"

"Duh. You know I love a mystery and a cheesy romcom story arc. You're, like, totally going to marry this guy and live happily every after." Jimin clutches his chest, eyes dreamy as he peers at you over the rim of his round lens glasses. "And if you don't I totally will!"

"Hey!" Jimin erupts into a fit of giggles when you launch a throw cushion at his face. "This isn't a movie, Park. I just wanna know who sent it. Ya know...for clarity." You wrinkle your nose when Jimin's narrowed eyes prod you to admit otherwise. Of course you weren’t actually interested in this love letter guy. Right? "Don't look at me like that! It's probably just some stupid prank anyway..."

You hug your torso with a frown. What if Yoongi was right and this was just a wild goose chase and you were falling right into the clutches of the perpetrator? What if instead of a secret admirer the love letter trail led to nothing but humiliation?

"Well there's only one way to find out." Jimin jumps to his feet, pacing the room for a few seconds with his hand on his chin before an idea strikes him and he starts and ripping down the schedules and homework reminders from the pinboard above your desk like a man possessed. “We have to get to the bottom of this mystery ASAP. And lucky for you, you’ve got me to help you.”

"How?" You inquire, watching curiously as he rummages through your drawers to retrieve a pot of push pins and a ball of red string that you just so happened to have lying around. Without further ado, he rips the cap off a pink sharpie to scrawl Operation: Love Letters in big letters at the top of a sticky note, pinning it in the center.

"It's certainly not environmentally friendly, but I've always wanted to make a murder board...although I suppose this is more of a romance board?" He lays out the pieces of evidence you have already gathered on the carpet; the love note from your secret admirer, the biology book scribbles, the list of library book borrowers and last but not least your Love Calculator survey results. "But as your best friend it is my duty to call the official investigation into Y/N's secret admirer to action." He grins. "So, what clues do we have so far?"

"Well we know that my secret admirer has to have been one of the people on this list who borrowed Biology 101." You grab a highlighter pen from the pot on your desk. "Hey look! A couple of the names on this list match up with my Love Calculator results."

Jimin's eyes light up as you start drawing circles around the names that correspond with both lists.

"Jung Hoseok, Kim Seokjin, Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook, Min Yoongi and Kim Namjoon..." Jimin reads, nibbling the eraser of a pencil thoughtfully. "Kim Namjoon. Isn't that the guy you spoke to at the library?"

"Yup." You confirm. "But he didn't seem to know anything about the love letters, so I think we can rule him out of the investigation."

"Cool. But maybe he knows someone who does?" Jimin says, crossing his name off the suspect list but scribbling his name onto a post it note next to the words POSSIBLE ACCOMPLICE? and pinning it next to the list of library borrowers, connecting the two with a piece of red string.

"And we know right off the bat that it's not Yoongi," Jimin draws a line through Yoongi's name on the list. "So we've narrowed it down to four potential bachelor's. Jung Hoseok, Kim Seokjin, Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook. Now we just need to find out if any of them had a motive to send you this letter. Any ideas?"

You ponder for a second, eyes fixated on the unfamiliar names on the list, before shaking your head negative. "I mean, I've probably seen each them around campus a couple times?"

Jimin looks unimpressed. "That's all you can come up with? No secret romantic rendezvous or crazy drunken hookups I don't know about?"

It's your turn to roll your eyes. "Jimin, you know better than anyone my idea of a crazy night is eating a whole packet of Cheez-It's and binge watching The Vampire Diaries instead of studying for my calc test. Besides, you know I'd tell you every detail if I had."

"Fair point." Jimin shrugs.

"If only we could read his name." You murmur, flopping onto your bed and holding the note above your head, closing one eye to get a better look at the splodge of ink in the middle of the page that obscures some of the sender's messy handwriting. "It seems like my admirer spilled something right where he signed his name..."

"Hold on a second," Jimin's eyes light up and he rips the note from your fingertips, ignoring your hey! of protest to perch on the end of the bed. You almost choke when he lifts the note to his nose and inhales, lashes fluttering closed before he exclaims, "I've solved it!"

"Huh?"

"This smell..."

"Smell? Jimin the fuck do you mean—"

"Cologne," Jimin drawls, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world as he pulls you to your feet and jumps on the spot excitedly. "He didn't spill anything, he left you a clue! Your secret admirer sprayed this note with his cologne before he sent it off and it made the ink bleed right here, but lucky for you, I just so happen to have a smell profile on every cute boy on campus."

You raise an eyebrow. "Honestly under normal circumstances I'd be concerned but right now I'm just intrigued. Elaborate?"

"Remember that guy I had a huge crush on last year?"

"Yeah? The footballer?"

"Right!" Jimin's finger slams down onto the name written in curly scrawl at the bottom of the love calculator list. "I would know his cologne anywhere. And it just so happens that it says his name right here!"

Jung Hoseok.

"He's my admirer?" You gasp.

Jimin shoots you a triumphant grin. "Come on! We have a secret admirer to expose. Operation Love Letters a-go!"

654 notes · View notes

jeongyunhoed · 4 years ago

Photo

A year after the events of Past-Present-Future, Lee Mirae, Choi San, and Jeong Yunho receive a mysterious envelope containing photos and notes about the deaths of several individuals. The deeper they go into the case, they find that the entertainment industry hides a very dark secret.

Group: ATEEZ Pairing: Yunho/OC Genres: It’s a little bit of: adventure, romance, mystery, crime, fantasy, action. Things to note: It also features mentions of other idols/artists: Junhong (Zelo), Dean, Chanyeol, Enhypen etc.

Superpowers AU if it wasn’t obvious as well.

T/W: Themes of death, violence, demons, cults, blood, use of weapons and/or firearms, use of drugs (both recreational and medical), implied/referenced assault, implied/referenced suicide, implied smut

A/N: So, because of the flow of the story so far, things might end in less than 10 chapters. Sorry it took me a while to finish this. I was in a bit of a rut but as of a few weeks ago, I’ve come back from it but I’m still just swamped with work so yeah.

Masterlist

Chapter 5

“Do we knock? Or do we let ourselves in?” San muttered as they approached the door.

Wooyoung touched the doorknob. He could hear a woman giggling and a man grunting, rushing to unlock the door and kicking it closed. He turned to the rest of them and nodded. “He’s in here,” He said. Upon seeing the sliver of a shadow being cast by the nearby trees onto the door, he took a deep breath, stepping into the sliver. He had transformed into the shadow itself, and they watched him open the door, hearing some metal parts clinking and breaking inside.

“Wow,” San looked impressed as Wooyoung turned back to normal. Yunho and Mirae also looked impressed.

“You’re getting the hang of your powers already, aren’t you?” Mirae asked quietly.

“Sort of. In a way I know how you feel now,” Wooyoung offered a small smile and they quietly stepped inside, Mirae leading the way.

Hardwood floors and walls bathed the home of Yang Tan as they crept down the front hall, seeing framed certificates of recognition of the outlet he owned. One framed photo stood out from the rest. It was a family photo of the CEO himself and his wife, with one son who looked unsuspecting. Wooyoung removed the sling of his katanas from his back, both hands now at the handles.

“Do you think his son knows about what his father’s doing?” San whispered.

“He might, he might not, there’s nothing much he can do about it really,” Mirae replied.

No one seemed to be around the living room, and Wooyoung didn’t sense any presence at the mini patio close to the kitchen. There was a muffled sound coming from the second floor, making them look up. Mirae gestured to go up and they crept up the stairs, San’s hand poised on his harpoon while Yunho had a hand on the handle of one of his sai. The closer they were, the muffled noises grew louder.

They approached the door where the noises were coming from, what looked like the master bedroom. They heard a squeaking as they observed the noises coming from the room. “It sounds like someone moaning-oh,” San looked shocked, making the rest of them gape.

The moans were growing louder mixed in between squeaking and San tried to turn around to leave, only for Yunho to pull him back. “I’ve heard our old boss fuck someone from another room before, but I didn’t expect to relive that experience now,” Wooyoung pursed his lips, eyes flitting around as if avoiding looking at the door.

“Do you think we should wait for another time?” San whispered.

“We need to move quickly, we can’t just leave because the guy we’re after is busy screwing someone in his bedroom,” Mirae shook her head, feeling just as uncomfortable.

“...But they’d be naked in there!” San whispered, covering his ears. “I think we can wait until they’re done.”

Mirae shook her head again, stopping her brother from trying to leave this time as she led the way, bursting in the room and making them skid to a halt at what they were seeing. Yang Tan and a woman they knew wasn’t his wife, were in a very compromising position, both of them scrambling to cover themselves up in a second, the woman screaming in surprise. “Yang Tan, we’ve got some questions to ask you,” She pressed on.

“Who are you?! What are you doing here?!” Tan bellowed.

“Who we are isn’t important, it’s what you know that is,” Mirae said. “Min Junghwa, you were in the list of people she was going to sue-”

“You come here to my home with that drivel-” Tan spat.

“I don’t think your wife would appreciate you screwing that in the bedroom you share with her either,” Yunho pointed out. “Tell us what you know about Min Junghwa, or Madame Seo, or both of those women as I’m sure you are fully aware.”

“What makes you think I’d have an inkling of what those women were about?”

“You own a news outlet, surely you’d have known firsthand what’s happening,” San chimed in. “Protection in the form of exposing other scandals to distract the public, we know your MO.”

Tan stared at the four of them, his expression suddenly relaxing. “And I will tell you because…?”

“If you don’t tell us, we’ll have to do it the other way around, and trust me, you won’t like what you’re going to see,” Mirae stared at him, her eyes turning black.

Wooyoung stared at him. Flashes of the CEO at a club, at a house, taking a line of the gold powder. The more he stared at Yang Tan, the more he began to see flashes of his memories. They were in a room, he was feeling up a woman, until it happened, the horrific act itself. He looked away, not wanting to see anymore. “He did it. He really made a pass at that actress, and many others probably.”

Tan looked at him in horror. “H-how did you see that?” He sputtered.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, someone’s guilty,” Mirae said, her eyes still black,

“Tell me what you want? Do you want money? I have money,” Tan pleaded as the four of them approached the bed. “I-I know people that could make your life-your lives very comfortable, protection from the law, is that it? I-I can give you that too!”

“We don’t want and need those, we just want to know what you know, especially about Madame Seo,” Mirae leaned forward, taking out the spray bottle from her belt and spritzing his face once. “You better hit the road, this guy’s no good. He’s had innocent people killed, you know, he might do the same to you,” She added, glancing at the woman he was with, who was also unable to speak from fright.

The woman crawled out of the bed, covering herself up with the sheet. San threw her clothes in her face. “Wouldn’t want people to see a naked woman running down the street tonight, would you?” He smirked, watching her stumble on her way out, getting dressed haphazardly.

Just like the CEO, Tan’s face had gone blank with his eyes glazed over. “Did you think Madame Seo would willingly meet with you? I am protected,” He said blankly. “Principium est, et finis est initium, principium est, et finis est initium.”

Mirae’s eyes changed back and she turned to the boys. “An entertainment agency CEO, a media outlet, those three other guys are probably involved in the industry too,” She got back up. “If Madame Seo has control of the outlet, of the entertainment agency, and the fact that those idols in that company are not human, she wants to do something,” She deduced.

“And with Yeosang’s influence and money, she’s practically untouchable,” Yunho said.

“But we need to look at the three others,” San chimed in. “If they have industry ties, then we can say what all of us are probably thinking.”

“She’s using the entertainment industry,” All of them began to say, exchanging looks in surprise that they were all thinking the same thing.

“Who are we visiting next?” Yunho turned to Mirae, who took out the list again.

“Song Youngdo, he’s a producer for the big three tv stations,” Mirae read out. “She really is using the entertainment industry as pawns, isn’t she?”

“An agency CEO, a media outlet, a producer,” San muttered. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the next two guys are higher up.”

“What could be higher than the CEO?”

“The investors, and Yeosang is an investor,” San shrugged. “Those people on the board of directors.”

“How can we track that guy down first?” Wooyoung asked, and Mirae showed him the list. He looked at the names. Yang Tan, Noh Hodong, Song Youngdo, Yoo Jongseob, and Cho Hajoon. Images began to flash in his mind again as he read the names. “They’re-I think they’re at a club.”

Mirae, San, and Yunho all turned to him. “A club?”

Wooyoung tried to piece together the flashes of what he was seeing all of a sudden. “I have a feeling that those two, the last two names, are at a club, music, drinking, drugs, all of those things.”

“Let’s not hope we catch them in an orgy then,” San cringed, looking back at the dazed form of Youngdo before knocking him out with the handle of his harpoon. “But which club exactly? There’s so many.”

Wooyoung looked back at the list again, trying to concentrate some more in the hopes of sensing more information just from the names. He closed his eyes as flashes of scenes were coming to him. “Leopard print. Leopard print rooms,” He mumbled, the three of them stopping to listen to him. “Elevators, suits,”

“A lot of corporate people,” Mirae said quietly, paying attention to him.

“Building, middle of the city,” Wooyoung opened his eyes. “That place is a building in the middle of the city.”

“It could be any building, those two guys are in that building then?” San questioned.

“Seems like it, yeah. They’re there partying or something.”

The television behind them suddenly turned itself on, making them turn around. It showed a signal interruption. The four of them stared at the screen, seeing a face form from behind until it turned black. A figure wearing a Max Headroom mask and a suit appeared. “So we finally meet at last, soul-taker,” said the figure whose voice was gravelly and distorted.

“Soul-taker?” Wooyoung mouthed to them. San quietly pointed to Mirae and he nodded.

Mirae stayed quiet. “I’ve anticipated all your moves. I’ve been watching you every step of the way, but no matter how much you find out, it’s too late for you to do anything more. I have eyes and ears, you know. Lee Miran and Go Changseok knew what you were capable of when you underwent that training program. What they, or your mutant comrades don’t know is, the extent of power you wield. Sooner or later, you will see how important it is to keep the status quo in order to keep the peace. I mean it, soul-taker. The more you move, the more we strike, and believe me, it will be painful,” and the screen turned black, the television turning itself off.

Wooyoung was still looking at the screen. “They’re after Mirae. They’ll come after her,” he said, making them stare at her.

“Fine, let them come after me,” Mirae said plainly.

They teleported out of the house and close to the car. Mirae kept thinking of what she was called by that figure. Yunho took her hand, as if letting her know that he heard her as they approached their vehicle. They stopped in their tracks when they heard a swooping from behind.

“Soul-taker,” They heard a growling followed by a little giggle.

They turned around, Mirae recognizing who the voices belonged to and the clothes they were wearing. It was that same idol group that tried to kill her in the agency. “Get the soul-taker, make it quick,” the boy in the red tracksuit growled as the seven of them surrounded them by moving around in circles.

Wooyoung brandished his katanas, Mirae extended her staff, San loaded his harpoon, and Yunho brought out his sai, the four of them ready to attack. The boy in blue and the boy in yellow sped past them, both their hands transforming into claws and eyes glowing red as they swooped in, hovering over Mirae while the rest of the boys attacked the three males.

Mirae tried to fend the two off, spinning her staff in the ground to emit a shock. She dodged every strike made towards her until the boy in blue quickly struck her neck with one of his talons. She felt lightheaded, her vision turning black as she dropped to the ground, the two boys picking her up.

“Mirae!!!” Yunho yelled, fighting the rest off while watching the two boys take her unconscious figure away into a portal, the rest of the boys following close behind until the boy in red clapped his claws together emitting a sound wave that sent them flying towards the nearby brick wall, the three of them sliding to the ground. The portal had closed.

San rushed back up to his feet, racing to the spot where the portal was. Yunho followed close behind. His heart was pounding. “Mirae!” San called out, looking all around him. She was gone.

“What was that? Who were those guys?” Wooyoung had caught up to them.

San was trying not to cry as he kept looking around in frustration. Yunho looked like he was about to break down as well. “I’m guessing those were the idols she fought off at Kang Entertainment,” He replied, blinking back the tears that were welling in his eyes.

“What do we do now?” Yunho spoke. “We have to come up with a plan or else I’m going to kill someone, and it’s likely going to be Yeosang.”

“If you kill someone, you’re giving them what they want, you’re giving this Madame Seo character what she wants,” Wooyoung said knowingly. “They took Mirae before we could get to the other three guys. She’s trying to stall.”

“What’s she rushing for? Does she have something to do tonight?” San was puzzled. “That guy on the tv just said the more we make a move, the more they will do something. They know we’re onto them, they’re threatened.”

“They’re taking Mirae hostage,” Yunho closed his eyes, trying to see if he could hear her thoughts. There was nothing. “What are they planning to make her do?”

“I think we’re running out of time now,” Wooyoung opened the car doors and got in the driver’s seat, making the two of them follow suit. “If they’ve got Mirae, if my senses are right, this is what Ino is afraid of.”

“But where are we going?” San slid in the backseat while Yunho got in the passenger seat.

“Back to the house, we’ve seen enough from them, and we’ve had a hell of a night,” Wooyoung started the car and stepped on the gas.

Ino froze in his place, staring into space with a horrified expression. “Yunho, San, and Wooyoung, they will be returning shortly,” He said, making everyone in the lab abruptly stop their brief training session.

Junhong sensed what the older male meant. “What about Mirae?”

Ino stared at him, and then at the other four, whose expressions fell. “You mean she’s dead?” Hongjoong asked. “You mean, Mirae’s dead? Really dead? She can’t die, can she?”

Ino shook his head. The doors of the lab opened, with Yunho, San, and Wooyoung appearing. “They took her, those idols in that Kang Entertainment agency, and before that-” San’s free hand had curled into a fist. “Before that we confirmed Yang Tan’s got something to do with it, but there’s more to what we found and it’s going to take a while to get everyone up to speed.”

“Firstly, they called Mirae soul-taker,” Wooyoung added. “Do they call her that because they know what we all used to do?”

Ino and Junhong shook their heads. San remained quiet. “One of Mirae’s abilities, as I’m sure you remember, manifested during the Utopian cult ordeal,” Ino began to explain. “When her eyes turn black, she can take a person’s soul, trap it into something. She usually did it with her playing cards before making those cards explode.”

“Does Madame Seo want that power of hers then? Is that why those guys took her?” Yunho asked. “They want her to do that?”

Ino shook his head again. “Yes and no, Yunho,” He said. “You of all people should know, she’s an omega-level mutant, those kinds of mutants are rare, as rare as immortals like you, what you’ve seen so far is nowhere close to the damage she can do when pushed to the extreme.”

“They want her to use her powers, on everyone,” San figured it out. “Through the entertainment industry, probably. All those guys that harassed that actress, and those other actors and actresses, they were all part of the industry. Madame Seo is using the industry to bend people to her own will.”

“It would make sense that she would, people watch television, stream movies, videos,” Junhong chimed in. “Those idols have a wide reach, as I’ve learned,” He turned on the monitor, showing the group’s music video. “Millions of views, millions of followers not just here but everywhere.”

“You think there might be something in their songs? A melody or the lyrics, perhaps?” Ino mused.

“I give you my blood blood blood blood, I give you my blood,” the group was singing.

“Mirae, she didn’t say much about the meeting, but when she met them, I heard that they’re hungry for blood, they tried to suck the blood out of her when she first met them in the CEO’s office,” Yunho recalled.

“They were the ones that killed those actors and actresses then!” Wooyoung gaped. “They’re- they’re her children or something like that.”

“Close,” Ino realized where they were going. A large book had materialized in front of him, its pages yellowed and slightly rough around the edges. The pages were flipping in front of him until it stopped. They were staring at him in amazement. “Demons”

“Demons?” San questioned.

“Demons,” Ino read. “Demonic creatures that mainly live on the blood of humans, of animals and they are birthed by one of the leaders of hell, Ose, who would manifest in the world above in the form of a leopard.”

“Madame Seo worships that one then? Is that what we’re dealing with?” Seonghwa asked.

“It could be, it’s making even more sense now. The leopard prints Wooyoung had seen, the leopard print interiors of Montague, the leopard print...everything that’s related to her,” San explained.

“With Yeosang and Mirae, she would have more power,” Yunho deduced, the feeling of helplessness seeping in. “We need to act and we need to act now, I don’t care if they strike, they took Mirae, that’s enough of a reason for us to move.”

“How? How are we going to do that? How are we going to do that without knowing what exactly they plan to do to her?” San shot at him. “I want Mirae back just as much as you do, but we can’t go there without knowing what we’re doing and what we’re dealing with.”

“We already know what we’re dealing with!” Yunho’s voice was raised.

“You don’t know how to stop them! You think our weapons are enough?!” San shouted back. “Everything was fine until you started lashing out at her over Yeosang!”

Mingi and Jongho held Yunho back, while Seonghwa and Wooyoung held San back. Ino and Junhong kept them apart as well. “It’s not the time to argue, both of you,” Ino advised. “We all want her back, you going on a rampage is what they’d want, if you do that, they’ll find a way to end her permanently.”

“All of you did the same thing before coming here, were the same kind of people before you all met us,” Junhong added. “Think of using that to your advantage when we try to get her back. Mirae would do that, whether she knows it or not.”

Tears were welling in Yunho’s eyes out of frustration, he sat down on the nearby chair and covered his face. “We need to do something, anything, I lost her once, I don’t want to lose her again,” His voice was muffled.

“How do we take them on?” Jongho managed to say.

“We go to that place Wooyoung saw. A building in the middle of the city, if we find Mirae there, good. If we find the three other guys we’re hoping to look for, that’s good too,” San suggested. “It’s all we can do, and we can hope we’re not too late when we do it.”

The seven boys had placed Mirae’s body in front of a woman whose face was obscured by a black shawl. They had transformed back to normal, but their clothes had some stains from the dirt and dust. “We found her,” The boy in red said.

“Good boys, all of you, I’ll make sure your comeback will be highly successful, at least your human forms will find success,” The woman said with a simper.

“I see nothing special about her, except for her blood of course, running through her veins,” The boy in green purred, looking at Mirae’s wrists.

“Ah, ah, don’t touch her, my children,” The woman stopped him. “She is important, she is not to be harmed. Her blood is not for the taking, you have to feed on others.”

“We drained the last manager we had dry,” The boy in purple pointed out. “We’re getting hungry again.”

“I know, and I am fully aware of that, but don’t you worry your pretty faces,” The woman said. “You’ll be able to drink until you lose your will to do so in time. Tonight is the night of reckoning, and I need you all to be on your best behavior, we’ll be meeting people who can make sure you carry out what you’re going to do.”

“Will this please our master?” The boy in orange asked.

“Yes, immensely,” The woman replied. She heard the elevator door open and in came a man dressed in black and his hair slicked back and wearing a tag labeled “Montague.” He ran up to her. “Yes?”

“Everyone is assembling. What time does the ritual start?” He asked.

“Midnight tonight, we need to be prepared, especially these boys for what we are about to do. Everything we’ve worked for in the last 20 years is leading up to this,” She replied. “Summon Song Youngdo, he needs to be briefed on the upcoming tv special these boys have.”

The employee bowed before leaving the room again. “What do we do with her? She can only stay unconscious for so long,” The boy in blue kicked Mirae’s leg slightly.

The woman bent down to take a closer look at Mirae. “She will be sent to someone whose influence will be very useful and then she’ll be hooked up to the machine we’ve been developing.”

The elevator doors opened again. Yeosang stepped out, walking up to the woman. “You sent for me?” He asked.

“Ah, Mr. Kang, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? Well, I brought you something you might like,” the woman stood aside.

Yeosang stared at Mirae’s unconscious body. “You-you brought her?” He mumbled.

“Of course. She is what you wanted, didn’t you? I told you I’d give you what you want,” The woman replied, lifting her shawl to place a very wet kiss on his lips, some of her red lipstick transferring on him.

Yeosang froze as he tried to wrap his head around the situation he was in. He glanced at the seven boys. “Was she hurt?” He asked coldly.

“Not really, just a little prick on the neck, I had already warned these boys not to drink the life out of her, so you shouldn’t worry about it either,” The woman smiled at him. “She’d make a good pet for you, don’t you think? Am I worthy of you now?” She tilted her head at him before wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“You would go to this extent to bring her to me?” Yeosang said quietly.

“Yes I would, I would do anything for you.”

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