#i was discussing all the concerts i had been to and i mentioned off hand that i was way more hyped for maisie than taylor

[rynwrites4fun]

Eyes On Me | Jack Abbot x Popstar ! Reader

Jack Abbot x f!Popstar !  Reader

Summary: You’re a breakout popstar on your first headlining tour. Fame hit fast—sold-out shows, screaming fans, and nonstop momentum. But behind the scenes, it’s overwhelming. You’re struggling to keep up with the pressure and pace. After collapsing backstage after a show in Pittsburg, you’re rushed to the ER—where you meet Dr. Jack Abbott.

Word Count: 6491

Warning: Age Gap (mid 20’s/late 40’s or early 50’s,) Mentions of mental health struggles discussions of suicidal thoughts/behavior

Author's Notes: Hi I’m ryn. Honestly this fanfic was is for myself LOL. Jack Abbot x Popstar ! Reader has been circling in my brain for the last 3 days and I just had to brain dump a story. Sorry for any grammatical errors and/or inaccuracies and unrealistic aspects. Like I said brain dump I just needed to get this out of my head before I went crazy. This is just for fun. Okay, enjoy.

Pittsburgh—night 22 of 36 shows on your tour across North America, all crammed into two relentless months. 

Your career had skyrocketed overnight. One day, you dropped your first single, Hands and the next, your song was all over the radio. Suddenly, you were doing live performances on late-night shows, Hollywood events, and festivals, posing for magazine covers, releasing your debut album Sultry, and now headlining your first tour. 

Performing and creating music was everything you ever wanted, but it came at a cost. You’ve been silently struggling for a while now. The pace, the preassure, expectations, the sheer magnitude of it all were starting to wear down—physically, mentally, and emotionally. You just wished you could hit pause. Slow it all down. Everything was happening so fast. You were trying to figure out how to process it all. And beneath all that, you felt incredibly lonely. 

You were exhausted, but you kept going anyway. You had to. People depended on you, your fans, your team, the crew, your label. You didn’t want to let anyone down, so you pushed through, running on fumes, but after tonight's show, it finally caught up to you. Once the curtains closed and your adrenaline wore off, you collapsed. 

—-

11:25 pm Dr. Jack Abbot reads on the computer at the ER’s Central station. His shift had started three hours ago, and so far, it had been uneventful. A few drunkards in a bar fight, some run-of-the-mill illnesses, the occasional kitchen mishap—nothing out of the ordinary. The night was still young. 

“We got the bus coming from PGG Paints Arena. ETA 5 minutes” a nurse calls out. 

“Heard!” Jack shouts as he types. 

“Oh skin to skin, your touch feels like a sin- I want you can’t you see, I need your hands all over me…” Doctor John Shen sang under his breath a high pitch voice as he picked up a clipboard off the central counter and scans through it. 

John continued to mumble words. Jack raised an eyebrow, glancing up from the report he was typing up to look at his fellow attending.

John could feel Jack's eyes and looked up at him. John shrugs “Hey, Hands is a catchy song…gulity pleasure” he said, unbothered by being caught singing something vaguely suggestive. Jack didn’t ask—he just assumed it was some pop song.

“Never heard of it…” 

John was shocked. “You’re kidding! You never heard of Hands?” It’s all over the radio- pretty sure it's ranked at number 3 on Billboard Hot 100.” 

Jack sighs, “I don’t listen to the radio, or pop music for that matter, Shen” 

“Right, you listen to a police scanner in your free time like you’re-” John drops his voice into a gravelly imitation and makes a grump face “Batman”

Jack rolls his eyes, continuing to type.

“Honestly, if nightshift were a superheros you’d definitely be Batman- you know, you finding comfort in the dark and all-” John was a talker, already veering into one of his usual tangents. 

“Anyway, the singer of Hands, biggest Popstar in the world right now- she had a concert tonight at the area- she’s sold out 36 shows across North America– impressive honestly–”

Jack was only half-listening—actually, not even that. He hummed and nodded anyway, pretending he was following along. Jack usually zoned out when John was on his tangents when it was something not related to work. 

 “You should listen to her stuff, it’s actually really good! Her album Sultry—I’ve been playing it on my way to work some nights. For a debut album, it’s pretty solid. Bop after bop, banger after banger—”

“Don’t you have patients to attend to, Shen?” Jack cut in, needing him to stop yapping.

Jack looks over his shoulder, his attention drawn to sudden commotion in the ambulance bay behind him. Muffled noise, shouting, screaming, and strobe of camera flashes lit up the glass of the automatic doors. The chaos was visible—but just barely contained.

“What the hell is going on?” He furrowed his eyebrows as he fully turned around, and straightened himself from hunching over one of the computer monitors.

“The bus just pulled up,” John says

“Yeah, but-”

Before Jack could take a step or say anything more, the automatic bay doors slid open. The muffled noise from outside crashed into the ER like a wave.

The paramedics burst through, wheeling in the gurney. The head of the gurney was propped at an angle. 

“Well I be damned, it's her” John said casually, like Jack was supposed to know exactly who she was.

Jack furrowed his eyebrows as he looked over John “Who?” 

John shot Jack an annoyed You weren’t listening look and said your name. “Only the biggest popstars in the world right now—ring any bells? The whole conversation we just had- came on, old man, weren’t you listening?” 

From where Jack stood, he could see a young woman—you—trembling, your breaths shallow and rapid.

Your hair was disheveled, makeup smudged and streaked. A bomber jacket draped loosely over your shoulders. But beneath it, he caught a flash of purple sparkles—stagewear, most likely.

Beside the two paramedics wheeling you in, three people buzzed around you like bees, talking over one another, yet you looked numb. Not registering or taking anything they were saying. 

The paramedic shouted over all the noise and commotion  "Twenty-five-year-old female, syncopal episode post-performance. Now conscious and alert—”

Somehow, through the rush and chaos, your eyes managed to find Jack’s. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul—and in that moment, yours didn’t lie.

Jack didn’t see a popstar. He saw a human. A woman who looked disassociated, exhausted. Sad. Worn thin.

He’d seen that same look before—in the military, and even here, on the job. That quiet, aching kind of broken. The kind that creeps in when you’ve been running on empty for too long.

Time seemed to slow as you were wheeled past him. He was an older man, a doctor you assumed. You couldn’t look away from his dark eyes. The look in his eyes. No one had ever looked at you like that—not the way he was in that moment. Different from every glance, every stare you’d ever known. And for a moment, you thought he could see you. Really see you. The weight of it made you sit up slightly, still staring back at him.

“I got this one- South Wing, Exam Room 4 —move her!” John barked, falling in step beside the gurney as it sped past, your eye contact with Jack breaking. 

Snapping out what felt like a trance, Jack gets back to work. 

“Call for more security-” Jack snaps one of the nurses as he bolts from central, heading to the ambulance bay. The two security guards on duty were overwhelmed, struggling to control the crowd.

 “Hey! HEY! you can’t be here unless you are sick, injured, dying or are here for someone that is!” He shouts over the chaos “If not get the hell out of my ER and ambulance bay!!!” 

The commotion only grows—cameras flashing, people yelling, shoving for a better view, the frenzy thick with screams and blinding light.

More security comes to help push everyone back out, managing the crowd. Jack exhales, knowing they’ve got it under control. Without another word, he turns on his heel and makes his way back inside, the chaos fading behind him like background noise.

He was going to head to your exam room—something about you lingered. That look in your eyes. He’d seen people in pain before, but this was something different. Quieter. Deeper. And he couldn’t shake it.

He was gonna head over to your exam room, but he was cut off by another nurse.

“Doctor Abbot! Trauma Room 1—stabbing victim”

Jack glanced down the South Wing, hesitating for half a second.

“Copy that,” he said, before turning and rushing toward Trauma Room 1.

___

The exam room was loud and overcrowded. Your manager, publicist, and assistant hovered around you as a nurse tried to take your vitals and ask you basic intake questions. Doctor Shen was trying–unsuccessfully– to get your team to leave so their staff could do their job, but my manager refused. 

“It’s best if you wait outside-” The doctor states. 

Your manager protested “No!” 

“Look, we can’t do our job effectively and efficiently if-” the doctor is cut off by your manager. 

“Well your medical professionals! I’m pretty sure you can handle extra people in a room! Hello, you do surgeries and what not with more than five people in a room!”

Your chest heaved as you sat there, still listening, your breathing shallow and uneven.

“For the sake of the patient—”

“Well, the sake of my client—”

I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Stop!” You said sharply. “Mac, give them space-”

“What?” Your  manager blinked, stunned. 

“Let them do their job. I—I feel fine, like I told the paramedics,” You said quickly, forcing a shaky smile. “They just need to check me out. Once they see everything’s okay, I’ll be out of here in no time. And we’ll hit the road”

That was a lie. You didn’t feel fine. 

All these eyes on you—the world—and yet none of them truly saw you.

They couldn’t tell you were faking it. Couldn’t see how much you were silently struggling. How you really felt. Not even the people you saw every day. Part of you felt guilty for even being here—for slowing everything down, for putting yourself and your team behind schedule. Everyone was counting on you. And you were falling apart.

Your manager sighed “Alright.” nodded in agreement, and the rest of your team quietly made their way out of your exam room and directed to the family room. 

You let out a sigh.

“Sorry about them, I didn't mean to cause any trouble.” You apologized to Doctor Shen and the Nurse as they began to check my vitals. 

“Don’t sweat it. It’s fine—comes with the territory in the ER. Your team’s not the first to argue with us, and they’re definitely not the worst.” 

You let out a breath, nodding faintly.

“Still… I hate that it got like that.”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it. What we should be focusing on is you. Is it okay if we go over a few questions?”

Doctor Shen and the nurse continued their routine—asking questions, checking my vitals. I answered them all, but inside, I felt numb. Like I was moving through it on autopilot.

When they finally left, the silence swallowed everything.

You later there for god knows how long. Curled up on your side, motionless.

Your boots were scattered nearby, forgotten. The tights clung to me like a second skin, and the purple sparkle bodysuit caught the fluorescent lights—still shimmering like it belonged on a stage, not under a hospital ceiling.

But you kept it all in. You didn't let yourself break. Even though you wanted to. Desperately. Ypu wanted to scream. To beg someone to just see me. To understand. To notice what youwere holding together by threads.

You needed somewhere to go. Anywhere but these walls.

You slid off the exam bed, my boots still on the floor, untouched. You didn’t bother putting them back on. You didn’t need to. Out in the ER, the chaos buzzed around me—everyone seemed preoccupied, moving in their own world. But none of that mattered. You didn’t stop.

As you quickly searched for an escape, anything to get away, I finally found the stairs. Floor after floor, my body moved on autopilot, pulled by some quiet instinct—a need for silence. For up.

The rooftop door wasn’t even locked.

And suddenly, there you were —standing beneath the open night sky, the wind pulling at my hair, the city lights stretching out below me like a pulse, faint but steady.

___

Jack peeled off his gloves and paper gown, tossing them into the overstuffed disposal bin without a second glance. His safety glasses came off next, dropped into a tray with a soft clatter.

The stabbing victim had finally been stabilized—barely. They’d coded multiple times on the table, the blood loss severe, the damage extensive. It had been a fight, but for now, they had a pulse.

Jack made his way to the center of the ER, eyes lifting to the patient triage board glowing on the monitors above the central station. He stood there for a moment, just staring—taking it all in, processing the chaos the way only someone used to it could.

John approached quietly, coming to stand beside him. For a moment, neither of them spoke—just two physicians staring up at the ever-shifting list of names, numbers, and needs blinking across the screen.

“Rough night,” John finally said, his voice low, more of a statement than a question.

Jack didn’t look away. “When isn’t it?”

Jack’s eyes stayed on the board, but his mind drifted.

The popstar.

He didn’t even need to say her name—she was already burned into the back of his mind. The look in her eyes when they brought her in.

“How’s she doing?” he asked finally, still staring ahead.

John followed his gaze for a beat, then glanced at the chart in her hand.

“Vitals stabilized. Labs were all over the place when she came in—dehydration, low electrolytes, stress markers through the roof. But mostly?” She paused. “She’s just exhausted. Like, bone-deep. Extreme fatigue. Burnout, plain and simple.”

Jack finally turned to face him.

“Does she say anything?”

John shook her head. “Not much. I didn't need to. You could see it all over her.”

Jack nodded slowly, jaw tightening just slightly.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “You could see it the second she walked in… or was wheeled in.”

He leaned on the edge of the counter, eyes distant now, somewhere far above the triage board. “It wasn’t just physical. It was in her eyes. Like she’d been running on fumes for a long time, and this was the moment her body finally said ‘no more.’”

John studied him for a moment. “You connected with her.”

Jack didn’t answer right away. He just let out a quiet breath through his nose, staring at the board, but not really seeing it anymore.

“Maybe it’s because I’ve seen it before,” he said quietly. “That look. The kind of exhaustion that doesn’t show up in lab results. The kind that runs deeper than what anyone can measure. You can tell when someone’s been running on empty for too long... and their body just finally gives out.”

John says “She still has 14 more shows left. With the pace she’s been going, I honestly don’t know how she’s made it this far.”

A flash of purple caught their attention.

Jack’s eyes snapped to the hallway just in time to see you slip from your room—glittering tights and a purple sparkle jumpsuit, unmistakable even in the dim hospital light. You moved quickly, your bare feet barely making a sound against the cold tile, as though you were trying to be unnoticed, trying to outrun something—or maybe trying to find something.

John caught the movement too, his gaze following you down the hall. “I bet she’s headed to the roof,” he muttered, voice low, tinged with understanding.

Jack’s eyes stayed fixed on you, his jaw tightening.

Jack didn’t respond immediately. His jaw tightened as he watched you slip through the door at the end of the hall, already heading for the stairs.

John frowned, glancing at Jack. “You think she’s gonna be alright up there?”

Jack didn’t answer immediately. He just stared after you, his mind racing. There was something about the way you moved—like you were running, but didn’t know where you were running to. It made something shift in him.

“People like her… people like us, sometimes,” Jack began, his voice quieter, “they forget they don’t always have to do it alone. That there are moments where it’s okay to stop pretending.”

John didn’t push, but there was a silent understanding between them.

Jack was already moving toward the stairwell, his steps purposeful now. "I’ll check on her."

Jack follows your path, climbing up several flights of stairs to get to the roof

When he finally reached the rooftop, the door creaked open softly, the cool night air greeting him as he stepped out onto the open space. His eyes immediately found you on the other side of the railing, standing still, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself like you were trying to hold together everything that felt like it might break.

You were staring out into the distance, as if the city lights could somehow offer you the answers you were looking for. 

___

“Hey,” he says, his voice low but steady.

You let out yelp, startled by the sudden voice. You hadn’t expected anyone else up here. Your hands instinctively grab the railing behind you, gripping it tightly for support. There was still a sliver of space between you and the edge, but your heart was already racing.

 “Whoa, whoa—careful now,” says quickly, a hoodie draped over his arm. His hands rise in a calming gesture, fanning out as if to steady you.

You glance over your shoulder, blinking in disbelief. It’s him—the man you locked eyes with earlier across the chaos. Tall, calm, dressed in black scrubs that cling to his frame like a shadow. His salt-and-pepper curls are tousled just enough to soften the sharpness of the stubble along his jaw.

“I’m Doctor Abbot,” he continues, stepping closer but keeping his distance. 

“I didn’t come up here to jump—” you say defensively. 

“I’ve heard that one before.”

“No, really—I’m serious. I just—” You hesitated, your eyes drifting away.

It wasn’t a total lie. The thought had crossed your mind once or twice before—on different nights, in different places—This wasn’t that.

You just needed space. A moment to think, to breathe. 

“Hey…” he says softly. “I get it. I head up here to get away from everything down there.”

He nods toward where you’re standing. “That spot? It’s usually mine.”

You glance at him, surprised.

“I’ve seen enough chaos for ten lifetimes,” he adds with a faint smile. “Up here’s the only place where no one’s life is on the line or yelling at me.” His voice carries a dry edge—half joke, half truth.

He steps closer to the railing.

“Do you mind?” he asks, gesturing to the space beside you, silently asking for permission.

You give him a quick glance, and he understands—it’s okay. He ducks under the railing and steps up beside you, settling in quietly.

He lowers himself to the ground, knees drawn to his chest, arms resting loosely on top. His back leans against the railing with a quiet familiarity. After a moment, you follow suit, settling beside him, sitting cross-legged in the hush of the night.

A silence falls between us as we look at the city skyline. 

“I come up here when I need to feel like a person again. Not a doctor. Not the guy who’s supposed to keep it all together. Just… me.”

He lets out a slow breath. “There are nights—some harder than others—where the thought crosses my mind. Of just… stepping off. Letting go.” 

He pauses “But something always stops me. Reminds me why I stay.”

He glances at you, voice quieter now.

“It’s the need to help people. To connect. Even when it’s messy… even when it hurts. It’s what keeps me tethered. It’s what drives me. It’s in my DNA”

Jack hadn’t shared that part of himself because he was looking for comfort. He shared it because he saw something in you—something he couldn’t ignore.

He couldn’t shake the look in your eyes from earlier, when they wheeled you in. That numb, exhausted sadness. The silent plea buried deep in your gaze. A quiet scream for someone—anyone—to really see you.

You were young—early twenties, maybe. A pop star. To the world, you probably seemed untouchable. Perfect. Living the kind of life most people only dream of.

But up close, all Jack saw was someone unraveling. Someone barely holding on. And he’d seen enough to know that pain doesn’t care who you are, how famous you are, or how bright the spotlight is.

And he couldn’t imagine what it must be like.

To be seen by the eyes of everyone… but never really seen.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is… this is where I come to stop pretending. So… no pretending. You don’t need to be anything up here, okay? I see you.”

My head snaps up at his words. “W-what?” your eyes widened, caught off guard.

“I said… I see you,” he repeats, voice steady, eyes locked on mine with quiet intensity.

Something in you breaks. Your lips start to tremble, and then the tears come—uncontrollable, unstoppable. You start to sob, the weight of everything finally cracking open.

This man—this stranger—was the first person to really look past the surface. To notice the pain you’d been drowning in. To see you, not the version of you the world demands.

And in that moment, you realize how long you’ve been waiting for someone to do exactly that.

Without a word, he takes the hoodie he’s been holding and gently drapes it over your bare shoulders, shielding you from the cool night air. The fabric is warm, worn, and smells faintly of him—clean soap and something grounding.

You lean into his side, drawn by a comfort you didn’t know you needed.

He hesitates for a moment, unsure, then instinct takes over. His arm wraps around you, slow and careful, like he doesn’t want to startle you. His hand begins to rub your arm—slow, steady circles. Not to fix anything. Just to let me know you're not alone.

The sobs come in waves—raw, jagged, leaving your chest aching and my throat tight. I try to stifle them, to keep it quiet, but he doesn’t flinch. He just stays beside me, steady and still, his hand never leaving my arm.

Eventually, it passes. Not completely, but enough for you to breathe again. Your chest still hiccups with the occasional shuttered breath, 

“I—I don’t even know where to start,” You whisper, voice hoarse from crying. “I just… I’m so exhausted.”

He says nothing, but his presence says I’m here. Take your time.

“Everything happened so fast—my career, all of it. It’s like I’m on this train, expecting stops along the way… but it just keeps speeding past every one of them. No breaks. No time to breathe.”

You pause, trying to find the right words through the tightness in my chest.

“And then there’s the pressure. The expectations. People depend on me—my fans, my team, the crew, the label... all of them. I’m supposed to be the one who holds it all together.”

Your voice wavers. “But inside, I’ve been unraveling. It’s like I’m screaming, and no one hears it. Or worse—they hear it and just… don’t care.”

You glance up at him, tears clinging to my lashes, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I have everything I thought I wanted. Everything I dreamed of since I was a little girl. And I still feel empty. So lonely. Like I’m surrounded by people… but completely alone in all of it. My voice cracks on the last words. I look away, ashamed.

Jack doesn’t speak right away.

He just watches you, eyes full of something that feels a lot like understanding. His arm is still around you, steady and warm. And when he finally speaks, his voice is low. Gentle.

“I know that feeling,” he says. “Being surrounded… and still feeling like you’re the only one in the room who’s not okay.”

He exhales slowly, like the weight of my words hit something deep in him too.

“You’re not broken. You’re human. And humans aren’t built to carry everything alone—no matter how strong the world expects us to be.”

He shifts slightly so he can face me more fully, his hand still resting on my arm, grounding me.

“You’re allowed to feel lost. You’re allowed to not have it all together. And just because people look up to you doesn’t mean you owe them everything. You still deserve to be a person. To rest. To be seen.”

He pauses, taking a breath, then adds softly, “Your job is demanding, I get that. But sometimes, you have to do what’s best for you. Put yourself first, even if it means letting others down in the process. You have to take care of yourself. You have to. Don’t be afraid to ask for help when you need it, either. Because if you don’t, you’ll find yourself on a path that’s hard to get off of.”

Thank you, Doctor Abbot.”

“Jack,” he corrects gently. “My name’s Jack.”

“Jack,” you repeat with a small smile, then introduce yourself.

He chuckles. “You know… I’m really aging myself here, but I only found out who you were a couple hours ago.” Trying to lighten the mood. 

You laugh. “Honestly? That’s kind of refreshing.”

“I don’t really keep up with pop culture,” he admits. “Dr. Shen was the one singing your earlier in our shift—what was it? Hands?”

“Oh god…” you groan, burying your face in your hands. That song was definitely suggestive. Of all the songs…

Jack grins. “What was it—‘Oh skin to skin, your touch feels like a sin… I want you, can’t you see, I need your hands all over me’?” He stumbles through the lyrics, trying to recall them.

“No, no, please don’t sing it!” you laugh, half mortified, half amused.

Jack arches a brow, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Why not? It’s catchy?”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. “Don’t encourage it.”

“Oh, come on,” he says, nudging your shoulder lightly. “It’s stuck in my head now.” 

“Why don’t you sing it?” 

You lift your head, eyes narrowing in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

Jack leans back against the railing, feigning innocence. “What? Fair’s fair. I butchered it—might as well hear it from the professional.”

You stare at him, mouth open. “You want me to sing that song? Right now?”

He shrugs with a teasing glint in his eye. “You’re the one who wrote it. Own it.”

You groan again, dramatically flopping your head back. “Absolutely not.” 

He arches a brow, clearly amused. “Why because it’s…?”

You shoot him a glare, cheeks burning. “You know why.”

Jack smirks. “Nope. Enlighten me.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands for a second before peeking at him through your fingers. “Because that song is suggestive, okay? And I’m not gonna put on a whole performance for the guy I just met while sitting on the edge of a hospital rooftop.”

He grins, utterly unbothered by your embarrassment. “I mean, you might as well—you’ve got the outfit, so you’re halfway there.”

Jack shrugs, his expression playful. “It’s not every day I get to share a rooftop with a pop star. Kind of a once-in-a-lifetime moment, don’t you think?”

You come back quickly. You cross your arms, giving him a teasing look. “But hey, if you’re lucky, I might just give you a private concert… somewhere a little less public.”

You freeze for a heartbeat, flustered, but the moment passes just as quickly as it came. Jack looks out over the city again, that easy smirk still tugging at the corner of his mouth.

His brows rise, amused, but he doesn’t say anything right away—just lets the silence stretch for a beat too long before offering a slow, teasing smile.

“Oh really?” he says lightly, head tilting. “Didn’t realize I’d stumbled into the VIP experience.”

Your eyes widen. “Wait—I didn’t mean it like that, I—” You groan, running a hand through your hair. “That came out so wrong. I swear I’m not flirting.”

Oh, but you were.

And so was he.

Somehow, without meaning to, the two of you had tangled yourselves into this strange, electric mess. One minute you were unpacking the weight of everything you’d buried inside, the next, you were tossing playful banter back and forth like it was the most natural thing in the world. Somewhere between the quiet confessions and the shared silence, something shifted. Neither of you planned for it, neither of you were sure what to call it—but whatever this was, it felt real. Unexpected, but real.

Jack knew this was unprofessional—wildly unprofessional. He knew better. He should have known better. She was a patient—vulnerable, barely holding herself together just hours ago and years younger. The kind of line he’d never imagined crossing. Every rule in the book told him to step back, to keep the boundary clear and intact.

He told himself it was harmless. Just words, just a moment. He told himself it was just a moment. Just a conversation. But even he knew that was a lie. Jack knew it was more. This wasn’t about flirting. It was about connection—messy, imperfect, unexpected connection—and despite everything telling him to walk away, he couldn’t bring himself to.

Not yet. 

Jack chuckles, clearly enjoying every second of your flustered state.

“Oh great—now you’ve seen me at my absolute worst and my most embarrassing.”

You groan, pressing your palms to your face. “I swear, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh, I know what you meant,” he says with mock seriousness, nodding slowly. “A pop star tries to seduce a jaded ER doctor with a rooftop concert. Very scandalous. Very tabloid-friendly.”

You peek at him through your fingers, trying not to laugh. “Stop.”

You shake your head, laughing despite yourself. “This is humiliating.”

“Come on,” he says, nudging your arm with a lopsided grin. “If anything, I should be flattered. First time I’ve ever flirted with a pop star on a rooftop.”

“I wasn’t flirting,” you insist, a little defensive.

“Keep telling yourself that,”

Silence falls between you two again. 

Jack looks at his watch. 1:13 am

“We should probably head back down,” Jack says, standing up and using the railing to steady himself. 

“Right…”He ducks under the bars, making his way back to the safe side.

You follow suit, and he extends his hand toward you, offering support as you step back over to the safer side. You take his hand, steadying yourself as you make the move.

___

None of you speak as you head back down to the main floor of the ER. The silence hangs between you as Jack walks you back to your exam room, his footsteps steady and measured.

Once inside, Jack’s gaze softens, his expression shifting to something more serious. “The tests came back, and it’s clear you’re dealing with extreme fatigue and exhaustion,” he says, his voice calm but insistent. “Your body’s been running on empty for too long, and it’s starting to take its toll.”

He pauses for a moment, letting his words settle before continuing. “I’m recommending that you take some time off, but I also think it’s crucial that you talk to someone—a therapist. You’ve been through a lot, and it’s important to get the support you need to process everything properly.”

Jack looks at you with genuine concern. “We’ll discharge you soon, but I want to make sure your team knows what’s going on. I’ll have a word with them so they understand the need for you to take a step back for a while. You need the time to focus on yourself and heal.”

He pauses again, reaching into his pocket. “I’m also going to write down some resources for you—therapists and support groups, people who can help you through this. I want you to have everything you need to get better, okay?”

“Thank you,” you say quietly, feeling the weight of everything finally starting to settle.

Jack gives you a small nod, his expression softening. “The nurse will come back soon to hook you up to an IV to rehydrate. Rest as much as you can.” He pauses for a moment before adding, 

“I’ll come in a check up you soon”

With a final glance, he turns and leaves, the door clicking softly behind him. The room feels quieter now, but in a way, the silence feels less heavy—like a small sense of relief has finally started to creep in.

___

6:30am Day shift would be coming soon to relieve the night shift. 

You’d stayed in the ER throughout the night. Your team stayed with you too—quiet, worried, but present. When you woke up, you finally opened up to your manager. You told him everything—how you’d been feeling, how long it had been building, how it all finally broke.

He listened. Really listened.

And when you were done, he looked at you—genuinely shaken. “I had no idea you were carrying all that,” he said, his voice low with guilt. “I’m so sorry. You should’ve never felt like you had to keep this to yourself.”

He reassured you that things would change. That they’d meet with the label, reevaluate everything. “If we have to cancel the rest of the tour, so be it,” he said firmly. “You—your well-being—that’s what matters now. Nothing else is more important.”

___

“Alright you’re all set” Doctor Shen says, officially releasing you from the hospital. 

I was still in my stage outfit, my boots in hand, and wearing Jack’s hoodie.

“Thanks, Doctor Shen,” you say, grateful as you start to turn.

“Wait!” he calls after you, stopping you in your tracks. “Before you go, do you think I could get your autograph?”

You pause, surprised, then smile. “Yeah, of course,” you say, walking back over with a light laugh. It’s a small, sweet moment, something you didn’t expect, but somehow felt right—maybe even grounding in its own way. You take a moment to sign, your pen moving across the paper as you look up at him with a warm smile.

“Thanks for everything,” you add, handing it back to him.

You see Jack, approaching. 

“Would you like an autograph too?” I joke 

“Wow I really downgraded there. What happened to my VIP Experience? My private show?”

“You’re still on about that?” 

Jack laughs, shaking his head. “I’m just saying, I had big expectations for this VIP experience. Autographs? Really?” He sighs dramatically, pretending to be disappointed.

“Raincheck on the VIP experience?”

He nods, chuckling softly. “Alright, I’ll hold you to it” 

“So…what are your plans now?” He asks. 

You glance behind your shoulder, catching sight of Mac pacing on the phone, waiting for you by the automatic doors of the ambulance bay. “Uh, headed back home actually. Mac, my manager, is talking to the rest of the team and my label about me canceling the rest of the tour, taking care of my wellbeing,” you explain.

“That’s great to hear,” Jack says, his tone soft, genuine.

Silence falls between you two, an awkward pause that neither of you knows how to fill. You both understand, without saying it, that this is probably the first and last time you’d be seeing each other.

You shift your weight, unsure of what to say next, and Jack clears his throat, glancing down at the ground for a moment before meeting your eyes one last time. “Take care of yourself, alright?” he says, his voice sincere.

You give a small nod, managing a quiet, “You too.”

Jack steps back, his hands in his pockets, his expression still thoughtful. “I meant what I said earlier… about getting the help you need. It’s important.” His words hang in the air between you, as if he’s trying to convey something deeper, something he might not have the chance to say again.

You nod, the weight of the moment settling in. “I will,” you reply softly, feeling the weight of everything you’ve been through start to press against you again. 

You start to walk towards the automatic doors, the hallway stretching ahead, but you stop. You can still feel Jack’s eyes on me, pulling me back. You turn around, your feet moving almost without thinking, and walk back to him.

He looks up at you, confused by your sudden change, but before he can say anything, you drop your boots on the floor and fling your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. You hold him for a moment, feeling the warmth of his embrace, his hands finding your waist and wrapping his arms under his hoodie that you’re wearing.

“I didn’t think anyone could see me,” you murmur, your voice soft and vulnerable. “But somehow, you did. All these eyes on me, yet you’re the one who truly sees.” You hold him tighter. “Thank you… for seeing me. For truly seeing me.”

Before you pull away, you press a soft kiss to his cheek, a gentle gesture that lingers for just a second longer than expected. You let go, picking up your boots, and walk toward the automatic doors.

You take one last glance back, giving him a small wave, and for a fleeting moment, you catch his gaze. But then, you turn away, making your way out, leaving the hospital and the weight of everything behind you. I won't look back again.

___

Doctor Michael Robinavitch, 30 minutes early for his day’s shift, strolled beside Jack with a coffee cup in hand. He noticed the young woman in a shiny outfit, wearing Jack's hoodie. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to Jack's cheek before pulling away. Leaving the ER with her boots in hand. She shot Jack a final look, a wave and then disappeared out of the automatic doors.

Jack stood there, still in a bit of a daze. He hadn’t noticed Michael approaching. He could still feel the warmth of her kiss on his cheek, the feeling lingering far longer than it should have.

Michael finally broke the silence, glancing at Jack. “She took your hoodie.”

Jack blinked, coming back to himself, and then offered a small smile. “I know,” he said, his voice a little distant.

Michael raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Well, guess that’s one way to make a lasting impression.”

Jack chuckled, a soft, almost wistful sound. He rubbed his cheek absently, still feeling the imprint of her kiss. “Yeah… guess so.”

Michael leaned against the counter, watching his friend with a knowing look. “You’re still thinking about it, huh?”

Jack met his gaze, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Maybe.”

A quiet moment passed between them. Jack knew, deep down, he’d probably never see her again. She was a pop star, and he was just another ER doctor. Their worlds were too different. But still, there was something about that moment—that made him hope he’d be wrong.

“I hope I do,” Jack muttered, almost to himself.

Michael looked at him, the playful edge gone from his voice. “Yeah. I can see that.”

Jack didn’t say anything else, his mind still caught up in the strange, fleeting connection. He wasn’t sure if it would ever turn into anything more, but for now, the memory of her was enough.

(another part??? let me know)

[burnthatbridge]

if you love him let him go (if you love him let him know) 

pre-buddie, bucktommy | T | 3k | angst, pining tommy needs to tell eddie something not on ao3 atm because i can't figure out if this is done or if i'm continuing it - please let me know your thoughts! now on ao3 because i hate not having all my fic in one place

“Can I get you another beer, man?”

Eddie checks his watch. It’s only a little after nine thirty. He’s kind of hoping to get home before Chris goes to sleep, but he’ll not be heading to bed any time soon, will likely stay up later than Eddie. Friday night means he disregards his supposed bedtime — not that he sticks to it that well on school nights, now he’s sixteen. “Sure, thanks.”

Tommy nods, disappears into the kitchen, returns a moment later with a can of IPA in one hand, a bottle of lager in the other. They’ve already finished the six-pack Eddie brought over, but trust Buck — well, Buck and Tommy — to have Eddie’s favorite beer in their fridge. Tommy hands over the can, already cracked open, and Eddie takes a sip as Tommy settles down at the opposite end of the couch. He doesn’t turn to face the TV, sits twisted towards Eddie instead, but he does pick up the remote and turn down the volume, the post-fight commentary rendered nearly unintelligible. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Eddie twists towards Tommy himself, something not-quite-anxious-but-almost flaring in his chest. Over the years they have been friends, he and Tommy have spoken about lots of things, including those not so easy to discuss: their respective experiences in the army, Tommy’s tough childhood, Eddie’s difficult parents, the hard aspects of the job. But they’ve all been topics that have come up naturally, raised organically. Tommy has never led into anything with such a pointed opener before.

Eddie studies him. He has one knee pulled up on the couch cushion, foot poking out off the end, the other foot planted on the floor, nearly parallel to the base of the couch. One arm is up on the backrest, the other relaxed, beer bottle in that hand, resting on his thigh, dripping condensation painting a charcoal ring on his — probably Buck’s, in fact, given how tight the fabric is stretched over the muscle of his leg — grey sweats. He’s not tense, but he’s not smiling, and there’s something about his expression that Eddie can’t place. It’s not that he hasn’t seen this look before, because he’s pretty sure he has, witnessed it in flickers across numerous occasions over the years, there and then gone, present for but a heartbeat. But he’d never known what it meant any of those times and he certainly doesn’t now.

“'Course,” Eddie says, when Tommy doesn’t go on, seems to be waiting for some kind of sign. Then adds, feeling like it’s necessary given the gravity he can feel pulling this lightsome evening down to something more serious.  “Anything.”

Tommy sighs, bites his lip like he doesn’t want to speak, even though he’s the one who said he wanted to talk, then shakes his head and takes a pull of his beer.

“Is everything okay?” Eddie’s starting to feel worried now. He mentally scans back over the past few weeks, trying to remember if Tommy has mentioned anything about work that could be a problem. He saw him at basketball last week, and nothing had seemed off. Plus, Buck hasn’t said anything. Not that he’d necessarily tell Eddie about an issue Tommy was having, not if Tommy wanted it kept private, but Eddie can usually tell when Buck’s concerned about someone, and he hasn’t picked up on anything, not at all. 

But maybe this isn’t about a problem Tommy is having. Maybe this is a Buck problem, something Buck has kept from Eddie. It would make sense why Tommy would bring it up with him; sometimes a concerted, multi-person effort is the only way to get through to Buck. And Tommy’s more likely to bring in Eddie first, and then expand the team to include Maddie, Chim, more, as needed. 

“Is Buck okay?” Eddie asks, something like panic constricting his throat, making the words come out a little strangled. 

Tommy actually laughs at that, a small, choked thing, an exhale of sound and air. He shakes his head again, but not a no. More like an extension of the laugh, a motion to accompany it, to better convey the disbelief — not humor — contained in it. “He’s fine.”

It’s a relief to hear. Buck had seemed physically okay, when Eddie had seen him briefly before he left the house, since he’d maybe purposefully waited to order his Uber until Buck pulled up in his jeep outside, despite Christopher’s insistence he didn’t need to wait for Buck to arrive, despite the fact that his kid is more than old enough to be left in the house alone for the twenty minutes it would have taken Buck to drive over, while Eddie was ferried the opposite way. But there could still have been something, Buck could have been fighting through pain, much better at hiding any hurt of his body than he is at masking his emotional distress. 

“But,” Tommy says, and that one word is enough to have Eddie’s muscles tightening once more, “It is Evan I wanted to talk about.”

Again, Tommy doesn’t follow it up with anything. Eddie has found, in their time as friends, that Tommy is not often a man lost for words. Quite the opposite, in fact. He usually says what he means, means what he says, and is an expert at listening and delivering sage advice. This reticence– it doesn’t feel like it bodes well, has the hair on the back of Eddie’s neck prickling.

“Alright,” Eddie says, a feeble prompt. “So, Buck?”

Tommy nods, like he’s gearing himself up for something, to face a challenge, to take a punch. Eddie is expecting something bad, so the words he says catch him even more off guard than they would have. “I want to ask Evan to marry me.”

Maybe if Tommy had seemed eager, excited, when he turned to him, Eddie could have anticipated the blow, could have felt a creeping suspicion this is where Tommy was headed, could have been provided with enough of a heads-up to brace himself. As it is, he doesn’t see the hit coming, takes it full force to the chest, so hard it steals his breath, knocks the wind from him. His mouth goes slack, and he feels his fingers slide against the slippery sides of his beer can, almost spills it over Tommy and Buck’s lounge carpet before he gets a hold on it, on himself. He forces himself to smile. “That’s– that’s great,” he makes himself say, only faintly aware that Tommy isn’t smiling back, like this moment should call for. “Did you–” he swallows around the bile climbing his esophagus, “Do you want help planning the proposal?” He wishes he could take the words back the second they’re out. Because this — just hearing that Tommy wants to ask Buck — is torture enough. To be involved with it, to help enable it, Eddie will be lucky if it doesn’t kill him. Maybe not his body, but certainly his soul. 

“No.” Tommy shakes his head. “No, I want to ask him to marry me. But I’m not going to. At least, not now.”

Eddie squints at him. The news that Tommy wants to marry Buck might hurt Eddie, but it’s not exactly surprising. Eddie’s seen how much Tommy cares for him in the years they’ve been together, has seen the way he looks at him, the way they look at each other. Has felt the way it burns him, the scorching heat of flame, the searing cold of ice. He doesn’t understand what Tommy is saying, doesn’t understand why this proclamation seems not to be a happy one. “Why not?” Eddie asks, almost grateful for the opportunity to present confusion, curiosity, rather than forced pleasure at the thought of one of his closest friends and his– best friend marrying each other. “You guys are serious. I mean, you live together.”

Tommy huffs another laugh, still more disbelief than humor, really the opposite of humor. “His lease was up.”

“Right. But he chose not to renew it. He chose to move in with you,” Eddie says, slow, struggling to understand, the pounding of his pulse not helping him think clearly, see through the puzzle that is everything Tommy has said so far and the way he has said it. 

“He was never going to renew it,” Tommy tells him.

And that’s– that’s something Eddie didn’t know. He hates it when he learns information about Buck from Tommy, always has, even though he fights with everything in him not to feel like that. Tommy is Buck’s boyfriend, of course he’s going to know things about him that Eddie doesn’t, know him in a way that Eddie doesn’t. 

“We hadn’t spoken about living together,” Tommy says, eyes on Eddie. “But he’d said he thought the loft was too expensive and he was spending nearly every night at mine by that point. When he wasn’t on shift. Or at yours.” Eddie pulls his eyes away, takes a sip from his beer for something to do, even though the bitter taste is turning his stomach. “He said he wasn’t going to renew it, that he’d look for somewhere new, cheaper. But this was too close to the end of his lease to find a place before he had to move out. I asked where he was going to stay in the meantime.”

“And he said with you,” Eddie guesses, more a statement than a question.

But Tommy shakes his head. A smile curls his lips but his eyes– his eyes don’t match. “He said he’d crash on your couch, actually.”

Eddie takes another mouthful of beer, holds it there, on the back of his tongue. He didn’t know any of this. Buck would, of course, have been more than welcome. Likely why he hadn’t asked in advance, why he planned for it without seeking permission. 

“I said he could stay with me, instead. That he’d be able to sleep in a bed here.” Eddie swallows, the beer somehow thick and cloying in a way that it shouldn’t be. “And then when he started making noises about looking for a new place, I told him he should stay.”

While it’s not how Eddie had, unwillingly, pictured it in his head — Tommy and Buck mutually agreeing that Buck shouldn’t renew his lease, deciding they wanted to live together — it still doesn’t explain what Tommy has said. “And he did stay,” Eddie says. “So, why aren’t– Does Buck not want to get married?” But that can’t be it, that can’t be right. Eddie is certain Buck does want to be married, only he’d tried hard not to think of Buck wanting that with Tommy, with anyone. Anyone else. 

“No, he does,” Tommy confirms it. He leans over and deposits his beer on the coffee table. Then sits back, still turned to Eddie, but arms crossed over his chest, like a protection of himself. “We’ve spoken about it, discussed it. And he’s told me he’s always wanted that, to get married, to be part of a family.” Tommy pops one hand out of the fold of his arms to hold it up, out, quelling, like Eddie has protested. He hasn’t, but his heart is doing something approximating a riot at the idea of Tommy being Buck’s family. “And I know he has a family. He knows he does. In you and Chris, in Maddie and Jee, in the 118. But–” Tommy breaks off, tips his head to the side, gaze boring into Eddie’s face so strong that Eddie wishes he could turn away, duck and run. “You know how much he’s always wanted to belong somewhere.”

He does, Eddie thinks, the thought almost violent in its intensity. He belongs with me. Except, he doesn’t. Not really, not how Eddie wants, not the way he does with Tommy.

“And I want that for him,” Tommy goes on, tucking his hand back in, squeezing his arms tighter about himself. Eddie’s never seen him like this, hunched in on himself, curled small. Tommy is usually so open, larger than life. “I want to be the one to give that to him.”

Eddie wants to be the one to give that to him. Desires it desperately, a secret need he’s tucked as far inside himself as he can. He can feel it now, raging to be let out, to be set free. But he can’t, he won’t. Buck is with Tommy, he’s happy with Tommy. Tommy who is so warm and kind and good, Tommy who is better than Eddie in every conceivable way, who brings so much to Buck’s life, who gives all of himself to Buck. Who wants to give him even more. Wants to, but apparently won’t.

Eddie doesn’t understand. “Then, if you want to, why won’t you ask him?” he questions, trying to. 

“If I ask him now, he’ll say no.” Tommy states it like indisputable fact, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world that Buck would refuse him. 

Eddie shakes his head, understanding even less. “But he loves you.”

Tommy smiles again, then, larger than he had before, but as devoid of happiness, as empty of cheer. This smile hurts to see, reflects the way Eddie felt inside when Tommy had said I want to ask Evan to marry me. “I know he does.” Tommy’s tone is sure, but wistful. “But he loves you more.”

It’s like– It’s like nothing Eddie has ever felt. Or maybe it’s like everything he’s ever felt. The shock of a residual lightning bolt, the joy of being a part of the 118, the pain of a bullet ripping through his shoulder, the awe of holding his son for the first time. Eddie wants Tommy’s words to be true maybe more than he’s ever wanted anything. But he also cannot believe them, has no trust that they are true. Because they can’t be. Buck loves Tommy. Not Eddie. 

“We’re friends. Best friends,” Eddie points out. “Of course, he– he loves me. But not more. Not like he loves you. He’s in love with you.”

Tommy sighs, arms uncrossing, palms coming to rest on his thighs, body taking on a posture Eddie is familiar with, the one he falls into when he’s talking someone through something, the one he adopted when Eddie came out to him some six months ago. “Eddie, he’s in love with you.”

Eddie shakes his head. It’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear, but coming from the wrong lips. Spoken by not by Buck himself but by Buck’s boyfriend, oh god. “He isn’t. Tommy, he can’t be.” 

But Tommy is nodding, nodding like what he’s said is true, like he wants Eddie to believe it. 

“He’s not,” Eddie says, hears the denial, the disbelief spill from him. Buck doesn’t love him. He doesn’t. But Eddie– Eddie loves– “I’m sorry,” Eddie says, almost a gasp. “Tommy, I’m sorry, I–”

“It’s not your fault,” Tommy cuts him off. “I knew what I was getting into. When I started seeing Evan, I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. I just–” Tommy sighs again, scrubs his palms along his thighs. “I didn’t expect it to get this far. I thought we’d just be a fun, easy thing. Something to ease Evan into his sexuality, that new part of himself. I didn’t expect it to go like this. I didn’t expect to feel like this.” Tommy closes his eyes, lashes falling to his cheeks. He breaths in and out, while Eddie’s own breath is caught in his chest. When Tommy opens his eyes, he says, “But I don’t have to tell you how easy it is to love him.”

Fuck. Tommy knows. Because Eddie does. He loves Buck, loves him so endlessly he doesn’t know where the feeling starts and where it ends. Doesn’t know when it started; doesn’t think it will ever end. “I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers, needing to say the words again, needing Tommy — his friend — to hear them. 

Tommy lifts one palm from his thigh, his wrist pressing into the muscle as he cuts his fingers to the side in a dismissal. “Don’t apologize for it. I’m certainly not going to. I’m never going to be sorry for loving him.” He drops his hand back down, pats his leg, emphasis of the point. “But it is a problem.” He smiles, rueful. “I thought I’d be able to break up with him, if he didn’t break up with me. I should have, ages ago. I certainly should have when you came out.” 

Eddie, selfishly, had hoped Buck would break up with Tommy then. But it had seemed like a farfetched fantasy. He had told Buck he was queer after Buck had already moved in with Tommy. He’d admitted it to himself, to Frank, before that, but hadn’t told anyone else for weeks. In hindsight, sometimes he figures he’d left it too late, but most of the time he didn’t think it would have made a difference at all. But now, with what Tommy has told him, maybe it would have. It’s a knife sliding between Eddie’s ribs to think maybe. Maybe.

“But I didn’t.” Tommy looks resigned, shoulders drooping. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Eddie needs to know. It seems like Tommy has known for years that Eddie has loved Buck. Loves Buck. I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. So why is he only bringing it up now?

“Because I didn’t. Because I can’t. I can’t break up with him. But I want to move forward. And I want to do so with him, for us to further our life together. But if I ask him to marry me when he doesn’t know for sure that you’re not an option, he’ll say no.”

Fear freezes Eddie’s insides. “So, what– what are you asking me to do?” Because Tommy is asking something of Eddie, wants something. Something Eddie fears he will have to make himself give.

Tommy straightens up, shoulders rolling back. He’s serious, solemn but not demanding or pleading when he says it. A devastating request. “I’m asking you, as my friend, to let him go.”

Eddie could be sick, he thinks, could vomit up the three and a quarter beers and the half a dozen chicken wings he’s consumed since he got to Tommy and Buck’s place. Could spill the mess of his insides up all over himself, all over Tommy, all over their lives. Tommy is his friend, was his friend before he was ever Buck’s boyfriend. Eddie should do this thing for him. Should give Buck his blessing to marry Tommy, give Buck up, give him over, completely, to this man who has loved him so well for the past three years. Eddie should; in his gut he knows it would be the right thing to do. But his heart– his heart is in revolt. It’s Buck. He loves him. How can he ever let him go?

Tommy leans forward, places a hand on Eddie’s leg, squeezes his fingers around the ball of his kneecap, until Eddie lifts his gaze and meets his eyes. “Or,” he says, somehow even more serious, “I am telling you, as your friend, to go and get him.”

[starlightkun]

⏯ word count: 13.7k ⏯ genre: band au, punk band frontman!shotaro, venue manager!reader, shotaro is whipped, reader is emotionally unavailable, is it a slowish burn or is it angst?, whatever it is ur reading a starlightkun fic so there’s a happy ending :), ft. eunseok/sungchan/wonbin as shotaro’s bandmates welcome back boys & wayv as reader’s coworkers ⏯ warnings: some blood/violence (shotaro gets punched once), not necessarily a warning but since i do generally avoid describing the reader’s appearance in my fics, i wanted to give a heads up—reader works at a punk/alternative concert venue and is generally in/around that scene. reader is mentioned and/or implied to have some tattoos and piercings (other than earlobes) ⏯ extra info: set in the same universe as filler episodes, but u don’t need to read that in order to understand this one, filler eps!sungchan and sugarcoated!shotaro r just in the same band! also the title is from a 5sos song lol ⏯ author’s note: sooo after writing filler episodes and experiencing bbb/lucky shotaro, i couldn’t get punk band frontman shotaro out of my head… i fear the trajectory of my life has been altered ⏯ now playing… empty wallets – 5 seconds of summer | apathy is boring – bears in trees | dreaming girl – xdinary heroes

── ⋆⋅♫⋅⋆ find more stories from backstage at venue:hell here!

“You’re not stupid. I know you’re not.” He stood up, stepping closer to you. “You always stop yourself right before… I’m sure you think you’re not leading me on or whatever, but I know you know how stupidly head over heels I am for you, because I don’t try to hide it.”

Flipping through your keyring, you selected the right key by touch in order to unlock the rear entrance to the venue. Despite the sweltering summer heat outside, the basement was cool as always. You flipped the AC and lights on as you disabled the alarm that wasn’t actually connected to a security company, then descended the stairs. Venue:Hell, your home away from home. Actually, you were pretty sure you spent more time here than your apartment some weeks.

Your phone buzzed with a text as you crossed the threshold into the back office, and you opened it as you flopped into the creaky office chair.

[kun: attached image]

[kun: new schedule for the month. y/n, don’t forget that you’re covering the new weekly act starting today]

It was your manager, and you read over the list of events for this week with mild interest. The two of you had already discussed that you’d be taking over being point with Venue:Hell’s weekly spot. The venue had a recurring local act come in every week to perform, typically a smaller artist, to help them build a base among your regulars. These guys had recently opened for one of your previous weekly acts on a national tour and your manager liked them enough to ask them to fill in the weekly spot when the tour made a stop here. You’d had that particular night off, so this was going to be your first time meeting the band.

As you went through your usual opening checklist, other employees filtered in, starting on their tasks. The venue usually provided all the staff and equipment for the weekly act. They just needed to show up and perform.

You were with your sound guy Yangyang by his equipment when you heard your name being called from elsewhere in the building.

“Yeah?” You yelled back, walking out from behind the curtain to look around for whoever it was.

Ten, who worked the front, was approaching with four guys in tow, instrument cases in hand. Must be the new band.

“New weekly is here!” He called out.

You hopped down off the stage to meet them on the main floor. “You guys are early.”

The band looked at each other, obviously worried. One that had a guitar case on his back spoke up uncertainly, “Is that a problem? We weren’t sure—”

“No, it’s fine. I’m pretty sure it’s a first, though,” you snickered.

“You got them?” Ten asked you. “Kunhang said he needed help.”

“Go for it,” you nodded, dismissing your coworker from the group.

Looking back at the four guys that you were left with, you started your spiel. “So, I’m Y/N, assistant manager at Venue:Hell. If you ever have any questions, need anything, let me know. I’m sure Kun already explained how our weekly spot works, but you guys will perform here every Thursday at 10:00 and have a forty-five-minute slot. It’s not exactly primetime, but it’s consistent and we have a good pool of regulars. You’ll also have priority for inclusion on lineups for any special events we host. If your weekly slot ever needs to be moved or canceled, we’ll give you as much of a heads-up as we can, but sometimes it will be very last-minute. If you ever need to miss a week, we ask the same from you, tell us as soon as possible. Make sense?”

You got four hasty nods in return.

“Great, let me show you to your green room.” Just as you were about to turn around and head off, you realized something. “Ah shit, I completely forgot to ask your name. Sorry.”

The guitarist that had spoken earlier offered you a big smile. His ears were adorned with metal, and you spotted some jewelry glinting from his nose, lip, and eyebrow too. His hair sort of reminded you of a dalmatian, a light blonde base with spots of dark black streaking through it. Overall, fit right in with the scene, except for his smile, which seemed to be made of sunshine and rainbows or something cheesy like that. You swore you needed sunglasses just looking at him.

“I’m Osaki Shotaro, uh, guitar, and I sing!” He informed you cheerily. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

“Jung Sungchan, drums,” the tallest one nodded. “And our band is called Roses for Eyes, by the way. Since Taro here forget to mention that.”

He slapped his friend on the shoulder, making Shotaro wince.

“Right…” Shotaro rubbed his neck. “You-You can also call me Taro, too, by the way. Everyone does. Like boba tea!”

“Cool.” You nodded, looking at the other two expectantly.

“Eunseok, I’m the bassist,” another introduced himself. “Sing a bit, I guess.”

The last one, with dark black hair save for a single hot pink streak in his bangs, gave a small wave. “Park Wonbin. Guitar and I sing too.”

“I like the pink,” you commented, then pivoted on your heel. “Okay, I’ll show you your green room.”

“So what do you think?” Yangyang asked you as he fiddled with his equipment, and you helped him go over his checklists.

“I think it sounds fine,” you replied, checking that step off.

“I meant about the new weekly.”

“Oh, they seem fine,” you shrugged. “You worked the night they were here last time, right? What did you think?”

“Their sound’s good.”

“And Kun obviously liked them.”

“Do you think they’ll be a pain to work with?”

“Hm?” You thought on your sparse interactions with the members of Roses for Eyes, the introductions, and then Shotaro had asked you where the restroom was. “No, I think they’ll be fine. I don’t know, Yang, it hasn’t even been their first day. There’s time yet for them to turn into assholes.”

Footsteps approaching made you glance over your shoulder. It was the drummer… Sungchan, you were pretty sure. He seemed to be heading straight for you, and you looked at him with your eyebrows raised.

“Do you need something?” You asked him expectantly, listening to Yangyang call out that the next step was clear.

“Not me, but yes,” he answered sheepishly.

You held his eye contact, arching an eyebrow.

“It’s Taro,” the drummer continued. “He’s good, I just wanted to give you a heads-up that he kind of uhm, loses things a lot? Especially his in-ears.”

“Has he lost them already?” You checked your watch. “Your soundcheck is in five minutes.”

“Yeah…”

You sighed and held the clipboard out towards Yangyang, “You got this?”

He saluted you, “Yes, ma’am.”

You turned back to Sungchan, “Where’s the last place he saw them?”

“I told Sungchan not to tell you, I’m sorry,” Shotaro apologized as the two of you retraced his steps starting from the van they had arrived in.

“I told you guys—If you need anything, let me know,” you grunted, climbing over a spare amp in the back to look under the seats.

“This is just so embarrassing,” he complained, rifling through the glovebox.

“Hey, it’s your first performance as our new weekly, it’d be weirder if it went over perfectly.”

“I meant you having to search through our nasty van with me for them. Just being a few minutes late to soundcheck, I could deal.”

“It’s fine, Shotaro, I’ve done worse, promise.”

His big eyes peered at you inquisitively over the headrests of the front seats. “Like what?”

“I think we’ve scoured every inch of the inside of this thing,” you declared, wiping sweat off your brow with the hem of your shirt. “Have you checked under it?”

Shotaro was still staring at you.

“I’ll look.” You sighed and hopped out of the back of the van.

“No, I’ve got it!” He suddenly scrambled into action, dropping to his hands and knees on the gravel next to the vehicle to scour the ground underneath it.

You, meanwhile, kept your eyes peeled for the immediate vicinity of the parking lot around it. Finally, off in the direction towards the building next door, something caught your eye. You wandered over, picking up a square, black case. Flipping it open, sure enough, there was a pair of in-ears, one bright green and the other bright purple.

Walking back over to the van, you stopped next to the guitarist, who was still looking under it. “Shotaro.”

“Huh?” Thunk. “Fuck!”

“Watch your head,” you said dryly as he carefully extricated himself from under the van this time. You shook the case at him. “These yours?”

He lit up as soon as he saw the equipment. “Yes! Oh my god! Where were they?”

“Over by the neighbors.” You jerked a thumb at the building.

“Ohhh, right! There was a cat over there that I took a picture of when we got here. Do you want to see it?” He was already digging around in his pocket for his phone.

“No. Focus.”

“Right.” He reached for the case, but you snatched them out of his grasp before he could touch it.

“I don’t think so.”

Shotaro’s face turned endearingly confused. “What?”

“We’re not doing this again,” you declared. “These are mine now. When they are not inside of your ears, they’re mine. You will come get them from me before every performance and return them to me as soon as you get off the stage. If you do not need to take them somewhere else before next week, they’ll stay here with me the whole time. Deal?”

“So, Sungchan mentioned this isn’t the first time I’ve lost them?”

“Uh-huh.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Deal!”

Roses for Eyes wasn’t half bad, from the bits and pieces that you heard while you were running around doing other stuff. You could easily understand why your manager chose them for the weekly spot. Your regulars seemed to like them, too. They had an infectious energy, kept the crowd engaged, and had good chemistry with each other on stage. After the debacle with Shotaro’s in-ears, the rest of the performance went over relatively smoothly, then you just had an open bar and dance night until midnight to deal with. Easy.

It was Yangyang’s turn to have his playlist hooked up, so you were planning on mingling to get some feedback from your regulars on the new weekly.

“Y/N!” A voice yelled out your name from elsewhere backstage, and you turned around.

It was Shotaro running at you, his guitar slung over his back. You held out your hands both in a gesture for him to slow down, and also to protect yourself in case he crashed into you. He managed to skid to a stop just in time, breathless and with a wild smile.

He held his hand out towards you, something crumpled up in his fist. “Here!”

You opened up your palm, letting him drop two familiar neon objects into it. His in-ears. “Ah, right. Thank you for remembering.”

Taking out the case that you still had in your pocket, you tucked them away, snapping it shut again. “You’re sure you won’t need these again before next week?”

“No, we don’t have anything planned.”

“Well, if anything comes up, I’m here most days. I’ll keep them in the office, so if I’m not here, you can get them from Kun or someone else with a key.”

“So what uh, what did you think?” His teeth played with his lip ring nervously.

“About what?” You checked the time on your phone.

“You know, our set?”

“God, I told Yang during soundcheck that Wonbin’s mic should’ve been turned up, but he didn’t listen to me, so we could barely hear him. But we’ll fix that next week. Is the guy always so quiet?”

“Yeah, yeah, he is.” Shotaro was still looking at you expectantly.

“Did you need something else, Shotaro?” You asked. “I was going to go talk to some people.”

“No, uhm, sorry for keeping you.”

“It’s fine.” You patted his shoulder. “And hey, we’re open until midnight tonight. You guys are welcome to stay and hang out. Staff gets half off at the bar, that includes you.”

He nodded and flashed you another smile. “Cool, thanks, Y/N.”

The next week, you were in the back office when there was a knock on the slightly ajar door, and a familiar head poked in.

“Hi.” Shotaro beamed at you. “Kunhang said you were in here.”

“Hi, Shotaro.” You minimized the window that had been up on your screen as he wandered around to your side.

“What are you doing?”

“Payroll. Which you can’t see,” you informed him, opening the top right drawer of the desk.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You handed him his in-ear case that you had just retrieved. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He accepted the case, but didn’t leave the office.

“Do you guys need something else?”

“No, uhm, finish your work,” he started towards the door. “But I uhm, is that new? The septum piercing?”

You touched the ring absentmindedly. You’d gotten it done over the weekend, you’d forgotten that it was new by now. “Yeah, it is.”

“I like it. Looks good on you.”

Before you could even say thanks, he had darted from the office.

Done with the payroll, you went out to the main floor, taking down the stools from the few high-tops scattered around the perimeter and setting them up at the tables. Roses for Eyes were just starting their soundcheck, providing background music of the sounds of them tuning their instruments.

“Hey, Y/N,” Eunseok’s voice came over the speakers.

“Yeah?” You called back over your shoulder as you continued setting up.

“So, did you like our set last week? Anything we can do better?”

You swore you heard snickers, but when you turned around, they were all standing at attention. “Everyone generally liked your sound. Good music to dance to. But you need some more variety in your setlist. Have a vibe-shift or two. Show people you can do more. If you can.”

Sungchan laughed as he spun a stick around with his fingers. “Is that a challenge or what?”

You shrugged. “It’s only a challenge if it’s hard.”

They all erupted into incredulous laughter, and you couldn’t help but grin too, glad that they didn’t seem put-off by your comment. You were genuinely trying to give them advice, not put them down. The band returned to their soundcheck, and you went back to your own tasks. You figured they were done when you heard a long stretch of silence as you were doing inventory of your in-house merch behind the merch counter.

“Hi.” It was Shotaro again, peeking at you from over the counter as you squatted down to count the t-shirts stacked up down there.

“Hi, Shotaro.” You held up your hand expectantly, and he deposited his in-ear case onto it. You tucked it into your jacket pocket. “Thank you.”

“Need any help?”

“This isn’t your job,” you pointed out, tapping a few buttons on the tablet balanced on your knees.

“You’re really good at that.”

“Counting shirts?” You snorted. “I’d be a lot better if I wasn’t talking while I did it.”

He chuckled. “I meant not answering the question you’re asked.”

You looked up from the shirts at him. “Hmph.”

“Did you hate our set that much?”

“Why does it matter what I thought?” You asked him frankly.

“You’re still doing it.”

You took a closer look at what he was wearing today, a neon pink longsleeve under his black t-shirt. “Your shirt matches Wonbin’s hair. Cute.”

He looked down at his sleeves, pulling them over his hands. “Ah, yeah, I guess. Do you like it? I—Hey, wait a minute!”

You laughed to yourself as you stood back up. “If you really want me to answer your question… No, I don’t need any help. I’m done now. Thanks, though.”

After Roses for Eyes’ set, Shotaro didn’t even have to find you, you were waiting just off-stage. He couldn’t hide his surprise, eyes going wide. “Oh, Y/N! Hey!”

“Hi.” You held out your hand expectantly, the case already open atop it.

He stuffed the in-ears back into it. “Thanks.”

“Thank you.” You snapped it shut and pocketed it. “And good set. I’m glad I got to actually see it this time.”

His face lit up. “Wait you—Is that why—? Thanks! You really—?”

“Hey, Taro, come on, we got places to be,” Sungchan grabbed his arm. “You got your in-ears?”

You arched an eyebrow, taking the case back out from your pocket. “You need these?”

Sungchan shook his head as Shotaro took it back from you. “Thanks…”

“Don’t lose them before next week,” you warned.

“I won’t.” He beamed.

The next day, you were at the venue early putting up some new decorations when you swore you heard the back door open.

“Ten?” You yelled out. “That you?”

“No!” An entirely different voice called back, right as the owner had descended the stairs into your view, propping his silver sunglasses up on his dalmatian hair.

“Shotaro.” You tilted your head at him curiously. “Pretty sure I haven’t been here that long. It’s not Thursday yet.”

“Not quite.” He grinned as he set a familiar case on the counter that you were currently standing on to reach the ceiling. “I didn’t lose them.”

“I’m very proud of you.” You pointed in the direction of the back. “Office is unlocked, you can put them on the desk before you head out.”

“What are you doing?”

“Decorating. We’re doing a Y’allternative Night tonight.” You held up the paper cowboy boots that you were prepared to hang up. “It’s all deejayed, no live music or we would’ve offered you guys a slot, sorry.”

“Can I help?”

“You really want to help me decorate?”

“Yeah.”

You sighed, looking down at the stack of decorations on the counter, and the others haphazardly strewn on the stage. “Ten was supposed to help but he hasn’t shown…”

“Is that a yes?” He asked hopefully.

“I can’t pay you for this,” you warned.

“That’s fine!”

“Put your in-ears away first.”

“On it!” He grabbed them off the counter and dashed away.

“So how long have you been working here?” Shotaro asked you as the two of you worked to decorate the venue.

“Few years.” You handed him the next cutout. “Mm, to the right. Yeah, good, higher. There.”

Shotaro was easy to work with, attentive, loved even the smallest bit of praise, and followed directions incredibly well. Kinda like training a dog, you figured. Though, you’d never had a dog.

“How long have you been with your band?” You asked.

“Oh, I’ve known Sungchan since I was like, seven,” he explained, scooting with you along the counter. “I used to be taller than him, you know.”

You snorted at that, genuinely trying to picture little Sungchan and Shotaro, the latter just a smidge taller.

Shotaro was grinning as he continued, “We spent like every day after school in middle school playing Rock Band. Begged our parents for real instruments for Christmas in high school. Then Sungchan met Eunseok in gym class, and I met Wonbin in art. So I guess it’s been… almost ten years? At least since we took over Eunseok’s garage after school for our first band practice.”

“That’s cool,” you replied genuinely, handing him the last decoration. “I like hearing that sort of stuff from the acts that come through here. Everyone’s got such unique stories.”

“Uhm—” He cleared his throat. “Is this good? For the-the thing?”

You looked at where he was holding the paper lasso. “Ehh… Turn it to the left a little? …Perfect, tape it.”

Shotaro hopped down from the counter and the two of you stepped back to admire your handiwork.

“Not bad.” You held your hand up for a high-five, which he eagerly accepted. “Thanks, Shotaro.”

The back door was thrown open then, Ten yelling into the venue, “I’m here!”

“Finally,” you scoffed.

“Sorry, sorry, I had to take Louis to the doctor,” your coworker rambled, obviously flustered as he rushed in. “Stupid asshole ate my charging cable.”

“His cat,” you informed Shotaro quietly, taking in the guitarist’s concerned look. Turning back to Ten, you asked, “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, one super expensive vet trip later, he’s fine, of course.” Ten seemed to notice Shotaro then. “Oh, hey, Taro. Are you guys performing tonight?”

“He was just dropping off some equipment and was nice enough to help me with the decorations,” you explained. “Speaking of—You remembered to pick them up on your way in, right?”

He pointed over his shoulder to the back entrance. “Yes, they’re in my car, will you help me with them?”

“I think we’ve got it from here, Shotaro, thanks again—”

“Uhm, do you remember how long it took last time?” Ten interrupted you pointedly.

You sighed ruefully, recalling very well. Clasping your hands together in front of you, you turned to the frontman, “If you’re not busy, would you mind helping us fill hundreds of balloons and also assemble a few cardboard cutouts? Please?”

Only one person could operate the balloon inflating machine at a time. One person would fill them with helium, then hand them off to another to tie them and release them to float up to the ceiling. Getting them back down would be hell. The third person was wrangling the custom-ordered cardboard cutouts out of the packaging and assembling them. That person was of course you. You had lost the rock-paper-scissors, and never had it in you to just pull rank when it came to this kind of stuff.

“What the hell?” You muttered, trying to cut the package open for the third time, barely crinkling the tape instead. Yanking on it, you cursed, “I swear this fucking tape is made of fucking Kevlar! What the fuck?!”

“Let me try?” Shotaro offered, abandoning his post tying balloons to join you. You huffed and let him gently take the box cutter from your hand, moving over to grant him access to the end of the box that you were struggling with.

“It’s probably that box cutter! Blade’s too dull!” Ten called out as he continued filling and tying balloons. “I think it’s older than Kun!”

Shotaro had just tried to slice upwards along the tape, but as soon as the box cutter hit resistance, it stopped, and his hand recoiled with the force. His fingers flew back down along the blade, and he dropped both it and the box immediately, letting out a long string of curses.

As soon as you saw the red welling up on his finger, you yelled out to Ten, “First aid kit!”

“Shit! Oh my god, you’re going to get fucking tetanus or something and die. Or lose your hand!” You panicked, latching onto Shotaro’s elbow. You dragged him into the nearest bathroom—the women’s room—and started running water in the sink. You yanked up his hoodie sleeves then yours, sticking both his hands under the stream. They were both bloody messes at this point.

Shotaro lit up as he looked at your inked forearms. “Cool tattoos, what—”

“So not the fucking time for a tattoo tour?!” You gestured to his own hands incredulously.

Ten brought the first aid kit in, and the women’s room that only had two stalls anyway was starting to feel cramped now.

“Go see if there’s any blood on the floor or something,” you shooed him out probably too harshly.

With him gone, you focused on washing and drying Shotaro’s uninjured hand before taking a look at the other. Only one of his fingers was cut, thankfully, but you knew the state that box cutter was in—old, rusty, and had probably never been cleaned once.

“I’ll be fine.” Shotaro was surprisingly calm as he watched you.

“You know there’s no cure for tetanus, right? Fuck, Kun’s going to kill me if our weekly can’t perform because I gave the frontman tetanus and he died.” You stressed.

“Oh, I thought you were just worried for me,” his voice was teasing, and if you hadn’t watched him injure himself and flinch in pain with your own two eyes, you would’ve wondered if he had any pain receptors, as he didn’t seem to be bothered whatsoever by you squirting soap onto the cut in that moment.

“Yeah, that too.”

“As an afterthought,” he snickered.

You pushed the shoulder of his uninjured hand. “Shut up and clean your cut.”

“Really, I’m touched.” He was still smirking as he obliged, gingerly running the tip of his thumb over the area to work the soap around the cut, the water finally running clear. You turned the sink off then grabbed paper towels and his hand, starting to dry the cut off. “Will it make you feel better if I tell you I’m upped on my tetanus booster?”

“Are you?”

He shrugged.

“Then no, that does not make me feel better,” you scoffed, inspecting the wound now that it was dry. On the bright side, the box cutter being as old and dull as it was meant that the cut wasn’t very deep. The bleeding had already stopped. As you went to grab the band-aids from the first-aid kit, you realized Shotaro was still watching you, this time with a funny smile on his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re always so… cool. In like this unreachable, detached way. Is it bad to say I’m kind of enjoying seeing you like this too?”

“Panicking and pissed off that you’re not taking tetanus serious enough?” You shot him an unamused look, ripping open a band-aid. “Yes, I’d say that’s a strange thing to enjoy.”

“Strange,” he repeated happily. “Not bad.”

“I suppose that is what I said.” You wrapped the band-aid around the cut. “There. All better. Unless you get tetanus and die.”

“I pinky promise I won’t get tetanus and die.” He held the pinky finger of his injured hand out to you.

You eyed his hand. “I super don’t think that’s how this works.”

Shotaro shook it more insistently. You sighed, linking your pinky with his. “If you get tetanus and die, I’m going to kill you.”

“I super don’t think that’s how that works.”

Thursday rolled around, and you were actually grateful when a spotted head of hair poked into the back office that evening.

“I’m alive!” Shotaro announced cheerily.

“So you are.” You smiled, taking out his in-ears from the desk drawer, as well as the brand-new bag of Sour Patch Kids you had tucked in there. “For you. I can’t pay you with money for helping out, but I really do appreciate it, Shotaro. And I’m sorry that you got injured helping me, too. If Sour Patch aren’t your thing, let me know what you do like and I’ll pick some up for you next week.”

Anybody else would’ve thought you’d just given him a handmade sweater the way he clutched the bag of candy to his chest and looked at you with big eyes. “These are my favorites! How—Did Sungchan tell you or something?”

“Took a wild guess.” You finished up the online order you were placing for restocking your in-house merch. “Also, do you guys have merch?”

“Huh?” Shotaro was looking right at you, but clearly hadn’t heard a word you’d said.

“Merch. Shirts, CDs, stuff for people to buy. Do you guys have any? We can keep it in stock here.”

He blinked, finally processing your question. “We sold out of all our shirts on tour… and we were talking about getting new designs the next time we got some made anyway. We’ve only got a few CDs left now. So… no…”

You clicked your tongue, logging out of the computer and standing up. “Well, whenever you get to it, we can keep them stocked here for you guys. Oh, and I know a few good artists who do that kind of stuff, if you’re looking for someone.”

As you talked, you had started ushering Shotaro out of the office, shutting the door behind you. He stopped in the narrow hallway outside it, made even more cramped by the cardboard boxes of miscellaneous props, merch, and decorations stored back here because you had run out of room in your actual storage closet. He was so close you were certain you could accurately count the piercings on his ears and face if you were patient enough. You tried to take a step back, only to hit your head on the office door that you had just closed.

“Fuck!” You hissed under your breath, clutching your head. “Shotaro, you mind? Don’t you have a soundcheck to do or something?”

“Sorry! Are you okay?” He winced sympathetically, still not moving away, if anything, getting closer as he tried to check on you. “That didn’t sound good—”

“I’m fine!” You insisted. “Soundcheck! Go do it!”

“Right!” He gave you a thumbs-up, then shook his giant bag of candy. “Thank you again!”

After he had sprinted away, you let out a relieved groan, leaning back against the door and looking up at the water-stained ceiling.

“Is that sanitary?” Eunseok’s voice announced Roses for Eyes’ arrival that particular afternoon, as you sat atop the bar counter, scrolling on your phone in one of your few moments of peace and quiet around Venue:Hell.

“Kiss my ass, Eunseok,” you replied without even looking up.

“Yeah, I’ll get in line,” he retorted, making Sungchan and Wonbin laugh.

That finally prompted you to slide your gaze up, just in time to see the three of them laughing over by the stage as Shotaro flipped them all off over his shoulder, making his way towards you. He had two cups in one hand, one with a bright green straw in it, and the other without a straw, and you saw that the other three band members each had a plastic cup with a straw sticking out of them as well. You silently watched Shotaro approach, raising an eyebrow at him once he’d stopped in front of you.

“We were getting boba on our way here, and thought we’d grab you one, too.” His cheeks were a bright pink as he held the unopened cup out to you, and fished a packaged purple straw out from the front pocket of his black jean jacket.

“Who’s this ‘we’ that you’re talking about?” You asked humorously. “They all apparently think getting me boba is kissing my ass.”

Shotaro straightened up, puffing his chest out. “Actually, yeah. Fuck ‘em. I got you one because I thought it’d be nice to get you one too since you do so much for us every week. It’s uh-It’s honey milk tea, because I didn’t know what flavor you liked.”

“Thank you, Shotaro.” You accepted the cup and straw from him graciously, to a chorus of snickers from the spectators on the other side of the floor. “Honey milk tea is more than acceptable.”

“But it’s not your favorite?”

“I don’t have a favorite.” You set the cup on the bartop beside you to stab the straw into it.

“You—Hey, are those mine?” He seemed to have finally noticed the sunglasses perched atop your head.

“What? These?” You teased, tapping the plastic accessory arm on one side of your head.

“I was looking for those today!”

You took them off, offering them out towards him. “You left them here last week.”

Shotaro took the glasses just to turn them right back around, take a step closer to you, and place them back on your head, a fond smile on his face as he did so. “I think you look better in them, actually. You can hold onto them for a little longer.”

You swallowed, your chest suddenly feeling too tight for your heart, and six eyes suddenly feeling like way too many to be in the room with you two right now. You chuckled, trying to keep up the congenial tone as you once more pulled them off. This time, you folded the arms and tucked the sunglasses into Shotaro’s jacket pocket for him. “Thanks, Shotaro, but I can’t take your sunglasses. They’re really rockstar sunglasses anyway, not for someone like me.”

At that moment, you grabbed your boba tea and hopped off the bar, scooting out from between him and the counter. You avoided looking at the others, beelining for the back office.

When Shotaro had to come get his in-ears from you just a few minutes later, you gave him the same pleasant smile as usual, handing him the case. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He tapped the case against his palm, the sound dampened by the fingerless gloves he was wearing that day. “What did you mean? When you said someone like you.”

“Wh—About the sunglasses?” You’d hardly expected him to confront you about that comment at all, much less alone now, just you and him in the office, no peanut gallery. While six eyes had felt like too many, this felt far too intimate. You somehow felt more exposed than before. “Like I said—They’re cool rockstar sunglasses, that’s what you are. You should wear them you know, up on stage, being all cool and stuff. I’m crew; no point in me wearing them while I’m sitting back here where nobody can see them.”

He frowned, but thankfully didn’t try to give them to you again. “I think you’re cool, Y/N.”

With that, he left the office.

“Hey—Woah.” Yangyang stopped midsentence, blinking at you from the office doorway.

“You’re losing your ears, puppy,” you snickered.

“I’m not a—!” He whined, catching the wolf ears that were sliding off his head just in time. “I’m a werewolf!”

“Sure,” you snorted, spinning your desk chair around to face him. “So what did you need, Yang?”

“Ten has a question about how we should set up the line out front.”

“Alright.” You stood up, smoothing out your long black dress. Today was Venue:Hell’s Halloween event, Hallowfreaks, so the whole staff was dressed up. You didn’t have time to think about a costume this time, so you just took out your Morticia Addams costume from last year.

Meeting Ten out front, you couldn’t even compliment his own “werewolf” costume, as he immediately tilted his head with interest upon seeing yours. You looked down at your dress, wondering if you had somehow spilled something on it unknowingly.

He didn’t leave you in the dark long, though. “You did a matching costume with Taro?”

“What?”

“Shotaro.”

The singer whipped around at the sound of his name. And there was no doubt as to who he was dressed as: His spotted blonde and black hair was slicked back and it looked like he had even used some kind of spray to make it fully black, he had donned a pinstriped suit and dress shoes, and drawn on a mustache to finish off the Gomez Addams look.

The initial recognition at his name being called turned to excitement as he realized what your costume was as well.

“Wait, seriously?!” He laughed, jumping up and down with elation. “That’s awesome!”

“I thought you guys would’ve done a group costume or something.” You crossed your arms.

“We were thinking about it, but Sungchan wanted to do a couple’s costume with his girlfriend. We thought it would look weird onstage if the three of us had a group costume without him, so we just all did our own thing.”

“Sensible.”

“C’mere, we’ve got to show them!” He grabbed your arm, and you let him drag you elsewhere backstage, into the green room where his other three band members were waiting around before their soundcheck. “Guys!”

“What’s this?” Eunseok grinned, pointing between the two of you.

“Taro, you didn’t mention you were doing a couple’s costume with Y/N,” Sungchan teased.

You rolled your eyes. “Not planned, you little shits.”

“Kinda weird that it happened, though,” Wonbin pointed out through a yawn. “Like, you know? What does it mean?”

“It means I was too lazy to buy a new costume and wore my one from last year, and Shotaro… I don’t know, something.”

“I like the movies,” he added quietly.

“He likes the movies!” You repeated triumphantly.

But the others were long gone, laughing and joking among themselves. Shaking your head, you turned back to Shotaro. “I’ll grab your in-ears.”

“I’ll come with.”

The venue was buzzing with excitement for the holiday, but the back office was quiet as always. You passed Kun in the hallway, giving him a quick nod as he rushed off to do something.

“Your in-ears,” you handed him the case, and a small bag of candy, “and Happy Halloween.”

“Sour Patch Kids!” His face lit up.

“Some place on my way to work was handing them out to people walking by. They’re not my favorite, so I figured I’d give it to you.”

“You don’t like them?” He questioned, ripping open the small package.

“They’re fine.” You shrugged, leaning back against the desk. “But you love them.”

He smiled as he grabbed a gummy. “Thanks.”

“This is Roses for Eyes’ first special event here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.” He confirmed. “Sungchan’s really excited.”

“Why’s that? He really like Halloween or something?”

“This is the first performance since we’ve had this gig that his girlfriend is going to be here for,” Shotaro explained. “She’s been on the road for the past two months.”

“She’s in the industry too?”

“Yeah, she does tour management.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your voice as neutral as possible. “Good for them.”

“Yeah…” Shotaro looked at you carefully. “But why’d you say it like that?”

Not neutral enough, apparently. You purposefully avoided meeting his gaze. “Like what?”

“Like… I don’t know. Like you had another opinion.”

“I meant it. Good for them.” You hoped at least that much came across as genuine. “I’ve been around the scene for long enough to see plenty of relationships like that end badly. Especially ones between talent and crew.”

His big eyes watched you carefully as he chewed, swallowed, and cautiously asked, “Personal experience?”

“What did I just say? I’ve seen it. Not had it happen to me,” you replied firmly. Pointing to the door, you said, “Now go do your soundcheck, Shotaro.”

You were waiting backstage for Roses for Eyes after their set. The stage was being prepared for the next live act, and the band was still energetic.

“Good job, guys,” you congratulated them as Shotaro handed over his in-ears.

“Thanks.” Sungchan patted your head as he hurried by, apparently with somewhere to be.

“He’s got to find his girlfriend,” Eunseok informed you, wiping his face with his shirt, and taking half his No Face facepaint off in the process.

You narrowed your eyes at Shotaro. “Missing something?”

“I gave you them!” He defended himself.

“Your guitar.”

He patted his front and back, eyes going wide. “Shit!”

Wonbin and Eunseok burst into laughter as Shotaro darted back onto stage, apologizing to the staff and band still setting up. The other two wandered off, presumably to put their own equipment away. Shotaro snatched his guitar from the stand and ran back over to you, panting as he tried to catch his breath.

“Okay, that’s the first time that’s ever happened,” he promised.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“I saw you in the back, during some of the set,” he was absolutely beaming at you.

“Yeah, with Kun here tonight, I can actually get some breathing room. I was able to stop and watch a bit.” You patted his arm. “Like I said, good job, mon cher.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling down at his feet. “Thanks, cara mia.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, covering your mouth as you did.

“What? What’s so funny?” He asked with a chuckle.

“It is pretty funny that we accidentally did two halves of a matching costume. Everyone had a right to be weirded out.”

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed. “Weird coincidence, right?”

“Anyway, you should put your guitar away before you lose it again and I have to confiscate that as well, okay?”

“Okay, okay.”

“I’m going to put your in-ears in the office. If you guys don’t have anything better to do, Hallowfreaks is going on until 2 a.m.”

“Don’t tell me you’re working that whole time?” He asked in disbelief.

“Where else would I be?”

Winter rolled around, and you were once again crouched behind the merch counter doing inventory. Seasons change, but the pain of doing inventory never does.

“Nah, it’ll be Taro,” Yangyang insisted.

“I think it’ll be Sungchan trying to embarrass Taro,” Kunhang replied.

“Mm, could be Eunseok trying to piss Y/N off while simultaneously embarrassing Taro,” Ten gave his input on whatever the hell they were talking about near Yangyang’s sound equipment.

You poked your head above the merch counter now that you’d heard your own name. “Hey! What are you guys talking about?”

Three heads peeked around the black curtains. Ten answered your question, “We’re betting on which one of them will say something first when they get here today.”

“And none of you said Wonbin because he’ll probably be half-asleep anyway,” you guessed.

“Yep!” Kunhang nodded.

You just sighed loudly and went back to your task. A few minutes later, the back door opened, followed by the overlapping voices of Sungchan and Shotaro in a quiet but heated argument about… something indistinguishable to you. It was ended by an alarmingly loud smacking sound followed by dead silence, which prompted you to peer over the counter, a little concerned. The guys would playfight or bicker sometimes, but it always devolved into laughter.

The four of them were silent, but the angry tension was choking. You tried to quickly duck your head back down, hoping nobody saw you. But of course Shotaro did. It was only a few minutes later, after they put all their stuff down in the green room, that Shotaro was leaning over the merch counter on his elbows to talk to you.

“Hi, Y/N.” He offered you a smile, but you noticed it seemed a little strained this time.

“Hey, Shotaro,” you greeted him, not addressing the band’s entrance. Having just finished up with inventory, you stood up, groaning with relief.

The singer’s smile turned genuine then. “You’re wearing our merch.”

You looked down at the front of the hoodie you were wearing. “Oh, yeah. Don’t worry, I paid for it.”

“I wasn’t worried about that.” His eyes shined as he looked at you. “I’m—I didn’t think you’d…”

“I’ve gotta rep the home team, right?” You gestured to the building around you. “It’s super comfy, too. Come on, let’s get your in-ears.”

In the office, you grabbed the case from the desk, watching Shotaro fuss with his lipring with his front teeth, bouncing from his heels to his toes.

“Look,” you sighed. “You don’t have to tell me what it’s about… but is everything okay with you guys?”

He pulled at his fingerless gloves. “You didn’t hear what Sungchan was saying?”

“No, nothing.”

“We’ll be okay,” he reassured you. “We’ve had worse fights. I mean, not since I was like, twelve, but it’ll be fine.”

You let your uncertainty be visible on your face. “Alright, you know him better than I do. Like I always say, if you need something, let me know.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate that you’re concerned about us.” Shotaro held a hand out for his in-ears, and you placed them in his waiting palm.

A little while later, you went out to start setting up the stools to find Shotaro alone on stage tuning his guitar. You went about your business as he seemed absorbed in his own task.

“I looked it up,” Shotaro called out to you before he played a chord, then adjusted one of the tuning pegs. “There’s no cure for tetanus.”

You looked at him over your shoulder, pulling a stool down from the high-top. “I know.”

Another chord. “I know you know.” More tuning. “You said that when I cut myself with the box cutter.”

“And…?”

“How did you know that?”

“My sister’s a doctor,” you answered simply, continuing to set up the furniture.

The guitarist stopped completely, staring at you. “Wait, really?”

“Why do you look so surprised?” You chuckled, leaning against one of the tables. “Can’t believe I’m related to a doctor and work in this place?”

“No, not that.” He shook his head as if trying to shake himself out of a stupor. “You just never tell me about that kind of stuff.”

“We both lived at home when she was in med school. I helped her with flashcards and stuff when she’d study.” You shrugged and went back to setting up. “Random stuff stuck.”

The other members of Roses for Eyes came out on stage then, cutting the conversation short as they started their soundcheck.

Poking your head into the band’s green room that particular evening, you were surprised to only find one member. Sure, a couple might be out on a food run, or wandering around the venue distracting your staff, but more often than not they were all in here between soundcheck and their set.

Regardless, you really only needed one of them at the moment. “Shotaro.”

“Yes!” He immediately shot up from where he had been sprawled out on the tiny couch, facing away from the door. His dalmatian hair had finally faded, and he was now completely platinum blonde with a shorter, spikier cut.

You quickly shot your boss a text back as you also flicked through the upcoming events spreadsheet for the venue. Not even looking up from your phone, you asked, “Got Valentine’s Day plans?”

Something collided with the edge of the table as Shotaro fell off the couch at that exact moment. You glimpsed the tail end of him scrambling to his feet, rushing to answer you, “No! Not at all! Uhm, what were you—”

“We’re putting on an Anti-Romantics Event for singles that night,” you explained, reviewing the details for the event on your screen. “Mix of live stuff and deejayed. Some games, raffles, that kind of stuff too. The headliner slot is yours if you guys want it.”

Shotaro nodded fervently. “Yeah! We can do it!”

You raised an eyebrow, looking around the empty room pointedly. “You’re not going to ask the other guys? I figured at least Sungchan might be doing something, you know…”

“Right. I’ll uhm, I’ll double-check with them.”

“I’ll pencil you guys in. Just let me know as soon as possible, okay?”

“Y/N?” Shotaro’s voice echoed as he yelled your name from the main room, obviously just wandering around shouting for you. Tonight was Venue:Hell’s Anti-Romantics Event, and Roses for Eyes had ended up accepting the headliner spot. Apparently, Sungchan’s girlfriend was really chill.

“In here!” You yelled back from inside the women’s bathroom, hunched in front of the mirror with an eyeliner pen and pile of used makeup remover wipes.

“Shit, sorry! I mean, uh—Never mind!”

“I’m doing my make-up,” you snorted. “You can come in.”

The swinging door opened hesitantly, and as soon as he was able to see that you were telling the truth, Shotaro entered fully. You wiped off your latest fail with a groan, grabbing all of the used wipes and tossing them in the trash.

“What are you doing?” He asked curiously.

“I’m trying to draw a broken heart on my cheek,” you explained. “But I can’t draw on my own face for shit.”

“Can I…?” He reached for the eyeliner. You handed it over, leaning back against the sink. He gently tilted your chin up and away from him to give him better access. You looked off to the side to avoid staring directly at him as he leaned in. “So you didn’t have any Valentine’s plans?”

“Nope.”

“Me neither.”

“I figured.”

He chuckled, his warm breath washing over your cheek. “Ouch.”

You rolled your eyes. “You already told me you didn’t have any plans.”

“Right.”

“I like your necklace.” You picked up the heavy chain from where it was sitting on his chest, several miniature heart lockets hanging from it.

“Thanks,” he murmured. “I think your makeup is nice.”

“I’m a sucker for a theme.”

Shotaro took a step back to look at his handiwork, nodding proudly. “Not half-bad, I think.”

You turned to check on it in the mirror, lighting up when you saw a much more legible broken heart than all the ones you’d attempted. “Oh, that’s so much better! Thank you, Shotaro!”

“You’re welcome.”

Eyeing the rest of his outfit, you were struck with an idea. You grabbed him by the shoulders, spinning the two of you around so his back was to the sink. “Your turn.”

“Hm?” He watched you with interest as you took the eyeliner pen from him and tossed it into your makeup bag, rooting around in there for something else. Finally, you secured a compact of blush and brush, holding them up eagerly.

“Trust me?” You requested.

He smiled fondly, relaxing back against the sink. “Go for it.”

You dusted the bright-colored blush across his cheeks and nose, focusing the majority of it in the center. When you were done, you had a victorious grin on your face. He now looked like a perfect little pop punk Cupid. The rest of his outfit was his usual mishmash of black and bright neon colors—this time solely hot pink—accessorized with more black, spikes, and metal chains. The blush was just the icing on the cake, especially when you saw that he had put a teeny, tiny silver heart stud in his nose piercing.

“Perfect,” you announced with finality, putting the makeup away.

Shotaro blinked his eyes open uncertainly, and you gestured for him to look in the mirror. He laughed, nodding his approval. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought you were doing.”

“Let me know how many numbers you leave with at the end of the night,” you quipped.

“What?” All the humor was drained from his features as he looked from the mirror over to you.

“Uhm, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re the frontman of the headlining act at an event for singles on Valentine’s Day, and I just made you look ten times more edible than usual.” You patted him on the shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

“I don’t want anybody’s number.”

You were slightly alarmed at the rate that this conversation had taken a nosedive, quickly trying to gloss over the tense moment. “Of course. Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“You really think I’m edible?” He asked with a knowing smirk.

“Mm, I guess I did say something like that,” you answered noncommittally, grabbing your makeup bag. “I’ll go get your in-ears for you.”

“I’m not them.” Shotaro’s biting words stopped you in your tracks before you could even grab the door handle.

“What?”

He was still leaning back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest as he held your confused gaze. “Whoever you’re comparing me to in your head. Whoever you think I’m going to end up being exactly like. I’m not them.”

“Shotaro…” You breathed out his name, unable to think of a quick deflection this time, hoping he would just let it go.

“You’re not stupid, Y/N. I know you’re not.” He stood up, stepping closer to you. “You always stop yourself right before… I’m sure you think you’re not leading me on or whatever, but I know you know how stupidly head over heels I am for you, because I don’t try to hide it.”

You winced, your stomach dropping to the floor. So he really did want to have this conversation. “I’m sorry. I should’ve said something. I thought… I don’t know, that I needed better words before I said anything. But saying something would’ve been better than doing this to you. I’m so sorry, Shotaro.”

“Tell me. Whatever words you do have, even if you think they’re bad,” he insisted.

“Why?”

“Because I still want to know everything about you, even if it’s the reasons you’re rejecting me,” he chuckled cynically, his eyes still shining as he looked at you.

You sank your teeth into your bottom lip as you tried to think of where to start. You knew you owed Shotaro this much, at least. Finally, you decided on, “I dated the lead singer of a band a few years ago, when I started here. I was young and stupidly in love with him and really believed him when he told me I was special. He was cheating on me the whole time.” You watched Shotaro’s eyes go big. “Every time he went on tour, even at concerts here. I think the worst part wasn’t even how many times he cheated on me, but how many times I caught him doing it and believed him when he said it meant nothing and he’d never do it again.”

“Y/N—”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Shotaro. Really,” you reassured him. “I-I don’t know if I can trust myself to not… realize when something like that is happening again. To not realize when I’ve lost myself like that. I’m sorry.”

You rushed out of the bathroom then, unable to bring yourself to hear what he said next, whatever surely sweet, reassuring, reasonable thing he would say. You couldn’t hear it, not now. You were stuck, and now you’d gotten Shotaro stuck too.

Grabbing the in-ears from your office, you were glad to almost immediately catch Kunhang in the hallway. “Hey, give these to Shotaro for me.”

He thankfully didn’t question it, and you set off to keep yourself even busier than usual. Which wouldn’t be hard, as Kun wasn’t in that night, meaning that you were overseeing the whole event on your own. You didn’t even see Shotaro again until he was on stage performing with the rest of Roses for Eyes. You were helping out behind the merch table, as the limited-edition event merch you’d gotten was apparently very popular and the bunching up of people around the counter was clogging up the small area.

“They’re killing it tonight,” Ten commented loudly to be heard over the crowd and the music, nodding towards the stage.

“Yeah,” you agreed mildly, watching the performance out of the corner of your eye as you straightened up the stock.

“They’ve been doing really well with the weekly slot, too.”

“Mhm.”

“I heard they’re planning a mini-tour in the summer, though.”

“Cool.”

“Taro mentioned anything to you about that?”

You flashed him a sharp look. “Why would he have told me anything?”

“Because you’re their contact for the slot here?” He gave you a bewildered look back. “They’d have to tell you so you could tell Kun and find someone to fill the slot while they’re gone?”

“Right. Yeah. No, nobody’s said anything to me.”

“And also, he’s got a huge crush on you.”

“God, shut up,” you groaned.

“What? It’s adorable to watch him follow you around like a lost puppy,” your coworker snickered. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed?”

“I’m telling you to shut up about it.”

“Come on, taking the theme a little too literally, Y/N?”

You rolled your eyes, opting to not engage with the conversation at all since he apparently wasn’t going to move on. The presence of the headliner on stage was finally drawing some of the crowd away from the merch line.

Giving Ten an unsympathetic smile, you started backing away from the counter, “Alright, I think you’ve got it from here.”

Ten was still grinning and shaking his head as he let you go without a fight, helping the next person in line. You continued running around the venue, helping with anything that popped up.

As Kunhang was announcing the winners of some of the raffles later in the night, you had eyed trouble at the bar. Sicheng, your bartender, was obviously trying to decline service to an insistent patron while a line of other guests bunched up around the bar.

“Is there a problem here, Sicheng?” You asked, stepping into the situation.

“Oh, Y/N,” he breathed a sigh of relief. “He’s had too many, can you—”

“I’ve got it, you keep serving people,” you reassured him. With his attention on the next people, you turned back to the other man. The guy had clearly had too much to drink, pink-faced and swaying in place. “You’ve had enough, man. How about we get you a water, okay? Or a soda?”

“No, I want another beer!” He insisted.

“No can do, sorry,” you informed him firmly. “Water, soda, or nothing. Alright?”

“Who the fuck are you to tell me no?”

“Manager of the building you’re in right now.”

“Well, manager, tell him to get me another beer.”

“No,” you repeated. “Look, dude, I know tonight can especially suck, but there’s other things to do besides drink. You are cut off. Let’s get you a water, hm?”

“No.”

“Did you come with friends? I can help get you back to them.”

He got up in your face then, and you stepped back, unwittingly jamming the bartop right into your own ribcage. “I said no, bitch.”

“I’m going to ask you to leave if you don’t calm down and get out of my fucking face,” you informed him through gritted teeth. “Come on, dude, don’t make this a bigger deal than it has to be.”

Before he could say anything else, someone grabbed the guy by the shoulder, pulling him away from you. At first you hoped that it was come friends of the guy, finally caught on to what was going on, but your blood turned cold when you saw who it really was.

“Hey, get out of her face,” Shotaro told him, rather calmly, but firmly.

In the next second, the drunk guy had swung, his fist impacting with Shotaro’s face and making his head jerk back. The crowd around you three gasped and backed up, and you felt both anger and panic flood your veins.

“You’re done!” You announced loudly. “Out! Get the fuck out! Sicheng! Call security!”

Your bartender was already on it, his walkie-talkie up by his mouth and his request for back-up coming through your own earpiece very clearly. You watched the venue’s guard who very rarely had to leave his post by the front door lumber up, grabbing the guy by the collar and pulling him through the crowd.

Shotaro was stood in the same spot, slightly hunched over as he held onto the edge of the bar, cradling his cheek. You sighed, grabbing his arm. “Come on.”

He let you guide him away from the crowd, the din of the music fading as you took him into the back office, shutting the door behind you. You gestured to the desk chair for him to sit in, and he obliged. After getting out the small first aid kit that was kept in here, you leaned back against the desk, pulling his hand down from his face to inspect the damage.

“We have security, you know,” you said quietly, cracking a cold pack and massaging it in your hands to get the reaction going.

“Didn’t seem like they were helping you,” he replied.

You grabbed a couple tissues from the dispenser on the desk, pressing them to where blood was welling up from a cut on his cheek. “Because I hadn’t called them.”

“Why not?”

“Because I was handling it.” Tossing the bloodied tissues in the trash, you applied a band-aid to the open wound before holding the cold pack out to him.

He accepted it, looking down at his lap guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

“C’mere.” You stood up and stepped closer to him, reaching for his face with both your hands.

“Hm?” He looked up at you curiously. You turned his head so you could gently press your thumbs against his cheekbone and the area around his eye where he’d been hit. “Ow…”

“Sorry. I don’t think he broke anything. You’ll probably just have some bruising for a while,” you declared softly, pulling his hand that was holding the cold pack up to his cheek. “And a nasty cut from his ugly rings.”

He chuckled a little, and you smiled back. “Learn that from your sister?”

“No, just had to break up a few fights here before.”

“Really?”

“We weren’t always such a classy establishment,” you joked, sitting back down on the edge of the desk in front of him. “We’re called Venue:Hell for a reason, and not just because we’re underground.”

“Here I thought you guys were just trying to be edgy.”

You were still replaying it in your mind, of how quick it happened, from Shotaro grabbing the guy to him getting punched. “You thought that guy was going to hit me or something, right?”

“He was getting up in your face…” He hissed and pulled the cold pack down from his face for a moment, then put it back up, wincing. “Even if he didn’t, he shouldn’t have been yelling at you like that.”

“Occupational hazard,” you shrugged. After a beat, you added sincerely, “Thanks, Shotaro.”

“Why do you call me Shotaro? To keep me at a distance?” He asked, a thoughtful frown on his face. “Everyone calls me Taro, I even told you to call me Taro. But you never have.”

“I’m pretty sure you said that I can call you Taro, not that you wanted me to,” you pointed out. Seeing the distress on his face, though, you said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it meant so much to you.”

“It doesn’t, really. But when it’s you… it hurts. Everything feels like the best thing that’s ever happened to me and the worst at the same time.”

“I…” You trailed off uncertainly. What were you even supposed to say to that?

“Like, I make you laugh and I’m fucking on Cloud Nine. And then I somehow take it too far, or say something that makes you run away and I kind of feel like I’m literally dying.” He slumped back into the desk chair with a sharp laugh, still pressing the cold pack to his face.

“That sounds awful, I’m so—”

“No, stop it. It’s not awful, and I want you to stop apologizing to me.”

“Okay.”

Shotaro sighed, looking down at his free hand as he futzed with his jewelry. “That guy’s rings were pretty ugly.”

You let out a sputtering laugh, happy for some of the tension in your chest to dissolve in that moment. “Yeah, they really were.”

That night, you got home from work in the wee hours of the morning, not even bothering to turn your apartment light on, simply tossing your backpack in the direction of your couch and shuffling towards your bedroom. You got ready for bed on autopilot, exhausted as you always were after work.

Wiping off your makeup in the mirror, you hovered over the broken heart on your cheek, recalling just how fast that conversation had gone downhill, then Shotaro getting punched later in the night. Letting out a deep breath, you finished up in the bathroom and shut that light off. After changing into your pajamas, you lay in bed alone, staring up at your ceiling. Alone. You’d be going back to Venue:Hell in less than ten hours. And after that, you’d come home again. Alone. Then go back to work. Then come home. Then go back. Then come home. Work. Home. Work. Home. Work. Home. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone.

The line rang, and rang, and with every ring, your urge to hang up grew. Of fucking course he didn’t want to talk to you—

“Y/N?” Shotaro’s voice was foggy, and it was apparent you’d woken him.

“Taro, hey,” you said quietly, already regretting this. “I woke you up, didn’t I? Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he grumbled, and you heard the sounds of him rolling over and readjusting in bed. “Is everything okay? You’re not still at work, are you?”

“No, no, I’m home.”

“Okay, good.”

“Uhm, I just—” You were cut off by a very loud yawn from him. “Sorry, it’s really late and you’ve got to be tired. We can do this later.”

“No, go ahead. You apparently thought it was important enough to call me at fuck you a.m. in the morning,” he chuckled sleepily. “We can do it now. I won’t interrupt again. Promise.”

You took a deep breath, still staring at the inky dark expanse of your ceiling. “I just was thinking… some more… And I do really like you, and if you still… want to… Do you have plans later?”

You heard something thunk, and a loud clunk right by the mic, making you wince away from your speaker, then the distant sounds of him cursing as he scrambled around.

“Sorry, dropped you,” he apologized, sounding much more awake now. “You mean like, not for work?”

“Yeah, like, hanging out. Not at work,” you confirmed. God, is your heartbeat always this fucking loud?

“Yes, absolutely. Yes! Fuck!” He agreed giddily, and you couldn’t help but grin too.

“Okay, uhm, I have to get the venue set up for a show at seven tonight, but we could do lunch before or something? If that works for you?”

“Totally! Yes!”

“Cool.” You smiled at your screen as you checked the time. “It is way too fucking late. Just text me when you wake up and we can sort everything out then.”

“I will. Absolutely.”

“I’ll talk to you then.”

“Yes.”

“Thanks, Taro. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

After some much-needed sleep, you slowly got up, sitting at the edge of your bed, letting your feet graze the carpet below. You were home now, alone, and later you’d be going to work. But before that, you were going to be doing something else. Going somewhere else with someone else.

Speaking of, your phone rang, an incoming call from Shotaro. You picked it up, still rubbing sleep out of one eye. “Mm?”

“Was it real?” He asked in lieu of a greeting.

“What?” You chuckled. “What are you talking about?”

“Do I need a lobotomy right now, or are we actually going on a date?”

You burst into laughter, holding your phone away from your mouth as your laughter devolved into a coughing fit, blindly grabbing for your water cup from your nightstand. After recovering enough, you finally answered, “Hold off on the lobotomy for now.”

“Oh, it was real,” he let out a sigh of relief. “God, I seriously woke up and couldn’t tell if I had dreamt that whole conversation or not.”

“No, I really did call you at ‘fuck you a.m. in the morning’ last night, sorry.”

He snickered. “I said that?”

“You did.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to call me at fuck you a.m. any night, especially if it’s going to be something that good.” His grin was audible through the phone. “So what time should I pick you up?”

“We haven’t even decided where we’re going?”

“Lunch,” he said confidently. “I’ve got it. You did the hard part, let me do the rest.”

You looked at the time on your phone. “Two hours?”

“Done. Send me your address.”

“Hey—Oh my God,” you cut yourself off laughing, covering your face as soon as you saw Shotaro standing there with a bouquet of flowers. “You seriously—Oh my God.”

“What? What is funny about this?” He held them out to you even more insistently.

You accepted them, still shaking your head. “Nothing. Come in so I can put them in water.”

He obliged, quietly closing your door behind him.

“I just honestly don’t think a man has ever brought me flowers,” you admitted, opening your cabinet to try to find some kind of vessel. “I was caught off-guard. I didn’t mean to laugh in your face, I’m sorry. You’re very sweet, Taro.”

“Seriously?” He watched you bring down an old empty water jug and fill it up from your sink, then plop the flowers in there.

“Seriously.” You paused in front of him, eyes focused on his left cheek, where a bruise had blossomed out far beyond the edges of the bandage you’d applied last night. Frowning, you delicately touched just under his cheekbone. “How is it?”

“I’m fine,” he reassured you, letting you continue to inspect the wound. “Barely even feel it.”

“Liar.”

He beamed. “Maybe.”

“You know that I’m going to be kind of bad at this, right?” You asked in a lull in conversation at lunch, picking at your food with your utensil.

“At… eating?” Shotaro asked in turn, his cheeks full with his own food as he looked at you with wide, confused eyes. “You seem to be doing pretty alright to me.”

“No,” you chuckled and shook your head. “At… this.” You pointed between the two of you. “It’s been a while, and I didn’t have the best experience last time.”

He swallowed and nodded, offering his hand out across the table, palm up. “I know.” Hesitantly, you put your own hand in his, and he squeezed yours gently, a soft smile on his face as he gazed at you. “Like I said, you already did the hard part, that’s why I’m taking care of everything else today. I get how difficult it must be for you to be doing this right now.”

“Thanks.” You squeezed his hand back.

“You really don’t have to do this,” you sighed as you and Shotaro walked down the sidewalks together after lunch.

“What are you talking about? Of course I have to make sure my girlfriend gets to work safe,” he scoffed, elbowing you.

“Hey hey hey!” You smacked his arm. “We’ve been on one date, kinda. What’s with the g-word?”

“‘The g-word,’” he repeated with a snicker. “If it makes you feel better, you can call me the b-word.”

“Bitch?” You blinked at him innocently.

He elbowed you again. “Rude!”

You laughed loudly, clutching your stomach as you had to stop to catch your breath. “Come on, you walked right into that one.”

“Yeah, I did.” He agreed, watching you with a fond smile on his face.

“I’m serious though, you can’t just be throwing words like that around after one kinda-date.”

Shotaro grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers through yours as you kept walking. “And what is the difference between a date and a kinda-date?”

“I don’t know. We were just like… hanging out. You know?” You shrugged. “I don’t know, I told you I was going to be bad at this!”

He laughed. “I brought you flowers, paid for your lunch, we’re holding hands… I’m failing to see how this isn’t date behavior.”

You looked down at your entwined hands, skin heating up. “Point taken.”

You’d made it to Venue:Hell and approached the back door, taking your keys out of your pocket.

“You know what else people do on dates?” He asked slyly, tugging on your hand so you’d turn around and face him. “Kiss goodbye.”

“Talking like I’ve never been on a date ever,” you scoffed, hooking your fingers in his belt loops and pulling him closer. You smiled when you saw his cheeks turn bright pink—no blush necessary this time. Shotaro’s hands landed on your waist as you grabbed the back of his neck and slotted your lips together. The cool metal of his lip ring pressed against your skin, made even colder by the crisp weather outside. He met you beat for beat, never taking over, following your lead until you finally broke apart. The kiss was sweet, reminiscent of the boba tea you’d grabbed after lunch.

“Ah, shit,” he chuckled, hanging his head.

“What?”

“Now I don’t want to go.” He snuck another kiss to your cheek, just grazing the corner of your mouth.

“You’re a menace.” You sighed, in a similar predicament. With warning in your voice, you said, “You can hang out—”

“Yes!” He cheered.

“—until somebody else gets here,” you finished your sentence pointedly, turning around to unlock the door. “Because some people actually work around here, and you’re not performing tonight.”

“Pretty sure you’re the only person who actually does any work around here,” he teased.

“I know, which is why I can’t have you distracting everyone else even more.” You unlocked the door and disabled the alarm, leading Shotaro in by the hand.

“I’m not a distraction!”

“All you’ve been doing for the past six months is distracting me.”

“I help you!”

You clicked your tongue. “And get injured in the process.”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, following you into the office. “It’s the thought that counts?”

“Let me change your band-aid, while you’re here,” you offered, pointing to the desk chair. “You’ve still got the same gross one on from last night.”

Shotaro peeled off the old bandage and tossed it in the trash while you grabbed a new one from the first aid kit.

“I’m going to have to tell Kun,” you said carefully, opening the new band-aid. “About this.”

He stayed still as you applied the new bandage, then asked, “Me getting punched or us going out?”

“Both.” You groaned and rubbed your face. “Ugh, I don’t even know which one I should start with. Don’t say anything until I tell him, please.”

“I will not tell anybody else until you talk to Kun,” he promised, the phrasing making you narrow your eyes.

“You already told all your bandmates.”

He folded immediately. “Can you blame me? I was excited!”

“The whole building is going to know by soundcheck on Thursday,” you lamented, covering your face.

“I’ll tell the guys I was kidding.”

“They’ll think you’ve lost it.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, probably.”

“As much as I appreciate your willingness to have your best friends think you’re an absolute weirdo loser who would lie about something like that,” you patted his shoulders, “I won’t ask you to do that.”

“I appreciate that.”

You heard the distinct clang of the back door closing, and sighed regretfully. “That’s your cue.”

“Fine, fine.” He stood up, pecking your forehead. “Pick you up later?”

“I get off at midnight?”

“So?”

“Don’t be late,” you hummed, grabbing the door handle.

It was Kunhang who had arrived, clearly surprised to see Shotaro there. “Oh, hey Taro. What are you doing here?”

“He forgot something.” You used the most reasonable excuse.

“Maybe we should just start stapling stuff to you, man,” Kunhang laughed.

“Great idea.” You grinned, patting Shotaro’s arm as you continued ushering him towards the door.

In the stairwell, concealed from your coworker’s gaze, he leaned in, whispering right next to your ear. “I did almost forget something, actually.”

You arched an eyebrow at him, and he cupped your cheek, rings cold against your skin. Your eyes fluttered shut on instinct as you let him tilt your chin, connecting your lips. Your blood roared in your ears as you scrunched his t-shirt in your fist.

The back door opened, and you couldn’t reel back quick enough. To your horror, it was Kun standing there, blinking at you as his keys dangled in one hand.

“Excuse me,” he cleared his throat, scooting right between you and Shotaro in the narrow space of the stairway. He looked back, speaking directly to the singer with you, “Nice shiner there, Taro.”

Shotaro touched his bruised cheek on instinct, giving your manager a thumbs-up with his other hand. “Thanks.”

Kun said nothing else, whistling to himself as he walked further into the venue. You looked at Shotaro with wide eyes, practically shoving him out the door as he burst into laughter.

“Goodbye, Taro!” You said loudly over his cackles.

“See you later,” he whispered back, shooting you a wink right before you slammed the door in his face.

As you turned the corner, you were alarmed to see Kunhang peering at you from his station. “What?”

“Since when do you call him ‘Taro’?”

Upon entering the back office, you saw Kun sitting at the desk, working on something on the computer. He held a familiar pair of silver sunglasses out to you without even taking his eyes off the screen. “I think Taro left these here.”

“Yeah, those are his,” you confirmed, accepting the frames from him. “Uhm, a patron at the event last night had too much to drink, and ended up punching him, by the way.”

Kun looked over at you at that information, lifting both his eyebrows in disbelief. “Taro got into a barfight?”

“He didn’t hit him back, or start it, really. Sicheng and I were trying to cut the other guy off, but he was getting pissed off.”

“Ahh, he thought he was helping you.” Your manager nodded in understanding.

“About that, we’ve only been on one date, and—”

“I don’t need to know all the details. I just don’t want to have to enter the building like that ever again, okay?”

“Heard.”

He cracked a grin then. “I will say—I like him a lot better than the last one.”

“God, don’t remind me,” you groaned and shook your head.

“And that’s the last time I’ll ever bring him up. I’m glad he’s gone.” Kun held his hands up in surrender. “Now go find something to do.”

“Ten’s not scheduled for tonight, so I’m on the front.”

“Go do that.”

“Heard.” You clicked your tongue and gave him a casual salute, heading back out of the office.

Kunhang found you again setting up the barricades for the queue out front. He squinted at you, then laughed, “Oh, those looked like Taro’s sunglasses for a second.”

“They are,” you answered nonchalantly, pushing the frames back up where they were sliding down the bridge of your nose.

“Why are you wearing his sunglasses?”

“Because he forgot them here, it’s bright as hell out, and I don’t have another pair on me.”

“That’s… reasonable.”

“You said that weird.”

“Well, here’s the thing—” Your coworker stopped where he was rearranging the barricades, facing you. “I don’t think you’ve noticed but I’m like… 99% sure the guy has a huge crush on you.”

You kept a straight face. “Really?”

“Yeah, the poor guy is like… so down bad it’s not even funny anymore. Kinda a bit sad, actually.” He sighed. “So I just think that you wearing his sunglasses… it’s gonna mess with his head, you know?”

“You think so?” You scrunched your nose, pretending to think really hard about it.

“Yeah.”

You eventually shook your head. “I don’t know, I don’t think he does…”

It was ten till midnight, and you looked between the time and the back door.

“If you’ve got somewhere you need to be, you can go,” Kunhang nudged you with his knee.

“Yeah, you’ve been checking your phone every ten seconds,” Yangyang snorted, scrolling on his phone. “Seriously, we’ve got it. We’ve done a bajillion dance nights, and Kun is here in case something goes horribly wrong.”

You ignored them, instead looking directly at your sound tech. “Hey, Yang, weird question: Do you think Taro has a crush on me?”

He burst out laughing, grabbing his sides as he keeled forward, barely catching himself on Kunhang’s leg. Still giggling, he sobered up enough to say, “Well, duh. Y/N, oh my God, I never pegged you for an idiot. What the fuck? Did you seriously not—”

The back door opened then, and you immediately spotted Shotaro descending the stairs, looking around the crowded room.

“That’s spooky,” Yangyang muttered. “Do you think he like, heard me somehow?”

“He was here earlier to see Y/N,” Kunhang said pointedly. “See? He totally—”

You simply raised your hand and waved until Shotaro saw you, immediately perking up and making his way across the venue. Your coworkers had half a mind to shut up as the guitarist stopped in front of you three.

“Hey guys,” he smiled at the other two, then pointed at the sunglasses perched atop your head. “Those are mine.”

“You forgot them here,” you informed him smugly, leaning back in your seat and taking them off. You let them dangle by the arm off the tip of your finger as you held them out to him.

“I told you I forgot something,” he teased, taking the sunglasses back. He turned the shades around, leaning in as he tucked them back into your hair. “They look better on you anyway.”

You left them there this time, grinning up at him. “I think you’re right, actually.”

“You good to go?”

“Yep.” You got to your feet, tossing your dumbfounded coworkers a goodbye over your shoulder. Shotaro’s hand found yours, keeping you close as you weaved through the crowd.

It was Thursday again, and you were backstage, monitoring the band as they got ready to go on. There was a hustle and bustle like usual, and right as they were preparing to step onto stage, you called out expectantly, “Taro? Forget something?”

“Oh, right,” he grinned and shook his head, jogging over to you. He held your face with two hands, kissing you right there backstage, his lips still sugary sweet from the Sour Patch Kids he’d been snacking on moments prior.

After he’d pulled back, you held up his in-ears and pack, which he’d given you when he needed a very last-minute run to the bathroom. “I meant these.”

You could hear the snickers from his bandmates as he took the equipment from you, rushing to put it all back on. “Yeah, that too, I guess. What if I said I’ve been losing things on purpose this entire time as a genius ploy to—”

“Go perform already! I’m sick of you!” You rolled your eyes dramatically and pushed him away, back towards the stage.

“Fine, only because you asked so nicely.” He winked, dashing back over just in time to run out on stage with the rest of the band.

“What the hell?” Ten was just off to your side, staring at you, accompanied by Sicheng. You didn’t want to know who was at the bar right now.

“What?” You tilted your head innocently, walking over to them.

“Taro just kissed you?” He looked around, bewildered. “Sicheng, that was crazy, right?”

“Huh?” Your bartender glanced between the two of you, seeming just as lost. “Have they not been dating this whole time?”

⤷ au masterlist | blog masterlist

[deanssluvr]

thought you were made for me

part 2 | part 3

pairing: brother’s bsf!Joost Klein x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of drugs and alcohol

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is my first fic so please be nice. I didn’t really expect to write more than 500 words lmao. Also, this isn’t proofread sorry. I plan on writing a part 2 for this.

It had already been a long and tough week. With just finishing the last of your final exams the week prior. Each exam felt like it took years off of your life. And the week itself felt as though it would never end. Not even mentioning the multiple all-nighters you pulled to study before. But when it was finally over you were beyond ecstatic. And now you got to finally be at home and relax.

It was relatively quiet morning. You had decided to stay in the comfort of your blanket for a while longer before deciding to head down to the kitchen. There you were greeted by your brother Ethan and his best friend Joost. They were making breakfast. Well, it was just your brother cooking and Joost waiting patiently. Ever since Joost finished touring, he’d been spending a lot of time at your house. Spending multiple nights in your guest room. Your parents never really minded because he was nice and respectful. Usually, they’re in your brother’s room playing video games or out doing something. You never really got the chance to see him a lot since you were off to college. But you were hoping that would change now that you were home.

“Good morning.” Joost smiled softly. Ethan turned away from the stove briefly to tell you good morning and offered you breakfast. You nodded and turned back Joost. He was sipping a cup coffee and the steam was slightly fogging up his glasses. He took them off and set them on the counter beside him.

“Good morning Joost.” You returned the smile. He moved next to you from where he was standing. 

“And how are you this morning?” he asked in a low tone. His voice was still laced with sleep.

“I’m good. Just glad to be back home. How are you this morning.” You looked up at him and through tired eyes.

“Better now,” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. It caught you off guard. Was he flirting with you? Before you can finish that thought your brother hands you both a plate of food. You thanked him and they walk out of the kitchen to the dining room. Leaving you to your thoughts.

—

Later on that day, you called your best friends. They discussed with you their plans with their newfound freedom. You were shocked at their ideas. Party here and bar hop there. You thought they were just as exhausted as you. The idea of getting wasted as a celebration wasn’t your favorite idea. You just wanted to catch up on sleep.

“But we’ve been doing nothing but staying in our dorms for finals. We NEED to go out,” she stated.

“I know. I know. But maybe we could do something a bit more laid back. Like the movies or that festival that’s in town.” I practically pleaded with them. But it was no use. They weren’t changing their minds, and I was outvoted two to one. The conversation shifted back to their ideas for celebration for the next few days.

After agreeing to meet up this weekend, you said your goodbyes to your friends and hung up the phone. But quickly after your brother texts you.

hey Joost has a concert tonight. i have an extra ticket. wanna go with me?

You thought about it for a good moment. You just wanted to get some extra sleep tonight, but on the other hand, you haven’t spent much time with your brother since you left for college. And now is a better time than ever to make up for lost time. Also, you just wanted another excuse to see Joost.

ofc sounds like fun

it’s tonight at 8. i’ll pick you up at 7

You texted him “okay” before setting your phone back down, and finished making yourself lunch.

—

As leaned over the sink, you checked your makeup one last time in the mirror. You used your nail to fix your lipstick. You stepped back to look over your overall outfit and decided you were happy with the outcome. You sprayed a bit of your favorite perfume on yourself. Checking the time you realized you were ready a bit early, so you sat in your living room. You started scrolling through Instagram as you waited. Then a notification popped up in your phone.

hey i’m outside.

You quickly checked your appearance once last time in a nearby mirror and checked your purse to make sure you had everything. When you felt satisfied with everything you grabbed your keys and left the house.

The ride to the venue was relatively smooth. You talked about what you’d miss in each other’s lives. He explained to you how he just found a new job as a bartender at a new bar downtown. He also told you how he was saving up for a new place. You told him that you were really happy for him. When he asked about you, you told him about how you just finished up finals week and now you finally have time off. He gave you a small chuckle and congratulated you.

—

The outdoor venue was packed that night and people were trying to rush to the front. You’re glad your brother was there as he kept a secure grip on you and was able to push you both to the barricades near the stage. It was extremely humid that night with a faint smell of weed and cigarette smoke clogging the air.

The lights dimmed slightly and you heard a beat starting to play over the speakers. You could feel the anticipation from the crowd and it made you even more excited as you leaned forward on the barricade. Then Joost ran on stage. Blue flashing lights engulfed him as he started performing and the crowd, including yourself, began jumping to the beat.

Once the energy died down slightly, you were able to take him in. His outfit was really simple tonight. He was in a white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up giving us a glimpse at the tattoos that littered his arms, a pair of baggy jeans, and his black thick-rimmed glasses that were fogging up every so often. Something was enticing about him and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him.

You had never heard his music before, but that didn’t stop you from letting loose. Everyone around you on the other hand, including your brother, is yelling the lyrics word for word. Joost takes notice of this and walks further downstage towards your brother, acknowledging him and smiling. Now you were able to get a good look at his face. He is even prettier up close you thought to yourself. Then he looks over to you, holding eye contact for just a split second before giving you a wink and continuing his performance. You were in utter disbelief at the encounter. You honestly thought you had imagined it. You were pulled back to reality when the loud beat of the next song started pouring into your ears.

—

“Did you enjoy the concert?” your brother asked as you both walked to his car. You were still feeling the buzz of the concert. It felt like the night shouldn’t end here. Maybe because you wanted to see Joost again.

“Yes, I did! His music is so good. I had an amazing time.” You left out the part about him winking at you, but you felt that you should keep that bit of information to yourself.

“Well, I’m glad that you had a good time.” His phone chimed with a notification. As he checked it you decided to check your phone. Your friends were blowing up your phone about the concert. They loved Joost so they wanted to know how it went. As you texted them back, your brother spoke.

“Hey, Joost is having a little after-party at a club nearby. He’s asking if the both of us wanted to go.“ You considered it for a moment. You did want to see him again. But when you did what would you say? Maybe he does this to all of his fans. Your brother senses your indecisiveness and tries to help.

“You don’t have to go. I would understand. I mean you’re not close to him. I just asked because he said he wanted to see you.” You were surprised at his request.

“No. I want to. I would love to go.” You stated as you gave him a reassuring smile. He nodded as he started the car towards the new destination.

— 

Your eyes scan over the scene. A DJ was blasting music over the speakers, but it was more near the dance floor. The place was dim with small, warm lights keeping tables and the lit. You follow your brother as he leads you to a table that seats a few guys. When you got close enough you realized it was Joost and who you assumed were a few of his friends. He loudly acknowledged your brother as they shared an embrace. They share a few words before he sees you.

“Hey. I’m glad you came.” he hugged you and you embraced him back. He smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, but it didn’t bother you. You liked it. You both lingered for what was probably a moment too long before he let go. You looked over to your brother and saw that he went to talk to the other guys at the table. Leaving you with Joost. 

His eyes slowly scanned over you as he took in your appearance. Once his eyes reached yours, you noticed a different look in his eyes. Almost like hunger. Being under his gaze almost made you feel nervous.

“Come sit with me and let me pour you a drink.” He didn’t give you much of a choice as he grabbed your wrist lightly, his fingers brushing against your palm. He guided you to sit with him in the booth. He pulled you close enough to the point that your thighs were touching. You liked around and realized it was just the two. You scan the place and see your brother and his other friends have run off to the bar. Probably to do shots you thought to yourself. 

You focused your attention back to Joost who was carefully pouring you both a drink. Though it was hard to see, a small dim light slightly lit up his face allowing you to still see his face. His hair was even messier than it was at the concert but he still looked amazing. You notice his strikingly delicate features and his captivating eyes that seem to sparkle under the light. Your eyes then trace down his arms and you take note of the tattoos that are there.

“Here.” He pulls you out of your trance by handing you a glass with brown liquor in it. You take the glass from him, your finger faintly brushing his. You didn’t drink much and when you did it was mainly vodka. Nonetheless, you drank it anyway. He watched as you took a sip and smiled when you seemed to enjoy it. He drank some of his own before turning to you.

“Did you enjoy tonight’s show?” He leaned in closer making sure you heard his question. 

“Yes, I did. Your music is really good. I wish I had discovered your music sooner.” Even with how dark it is you notice the smile he gave you.

“I'm happy you had a good time. You know I know we don’t know each other that well, but I would love for us to get closer.” Once again he leaned in, but this time it was in your ear. His warm breath against your ear sent goosebumps across your skin. As he leaned back to look at you, he stopped just inches away from your face. You can faintly feel his breath against your lips. You swear can see his eyes glance at your lips for a second before looking back into your eyes. His expression changed again into what you saw when he first greeted you. Hunger. His eyes were focused on yours and it made you nervous. The air suddenly changed. It felt more thicker and warmer.

“Let’s go dance.” He offered his hand as he slid out of the booth. You smiled and took his hand. He guided you to the crowd on the dance floor and pushed you both near the center. There was a dark blue light that engulfed everyone. The beat took over you as you started dancing. You let your hips away to the rhythm. You felt Joost’s hands find their way to your waist, and he pulled you closer to him. 

You continue to dance against him, grinding on him. His hands started to explore your body as they found themselves on your hips, and then slowly went down to the hem of your short skirt. His fingers found their way under and he started to rub the soft skin. His head found its way closer to the crook of your neck. You feel his warm breath on your collarbone as he speaks.

“Ik heb je nodig (I need you)” He breathes into your neck and it sends shivers down your spine. With the light grip he has on you, he turns around so now you’re facing him. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him closer to you. Your faces are inches away from each other. The air around you is hot and thick. You look into his eyes and see the same familiar look as before. Even under the lights, you can see his pupils blown with lust. 

You don’t know if it was the alcohol but you felt bold. So you pulled him into a kiss which he happily accepted. His hands moved from the hem of your skirt up to the curve of your ass where he squeezed lightly. The kiss became more intense as you both realized how hungry you were. Your hands found their way to his hair and you pulled gently at the white locks. He pulled away only to say something.

“We should take this somewhere else.” He suggested between pants. You nod quickly. He takes your hand and guides you off the dance floor. Your head was buzzing and you felt as though you were caught in a haze. He leads you back to the table and you see your brother and some of his friends there with a few girls. Joost let go of your hand only for a moment when telling your brother that you were both leaving early. He told him you weren’t feeling good. Surprisingly he wasn’t suspicious of anything and only told you both to drive safe. With that, you and Joost make your way to his car. You both get settled in before he looks over at you.

“My place or yours liefje (sweetheart)”

[jikooklove9795]

NO GLUE IS STRONGER THAN JIKOOK 🤭

They come in pairs guysss 😭

Its their pattern, their habit because they're boyfriends/partners who likes to be around each other all the time.

Jikook glued together refusing to be apart:

Romancing the night away in public settings. The chest to back and hands on the hips are giving...

While taking showers. Not the first time. Definitely not 😅

Together at 4am. Jimin low key revealing that they sleep together

While taking naps during shoots

During team discussions

At parties

During Behind The Scenes

During award shows, giving off couple vibes

After concerts

Doing dance covers

Being late together

Arriving to sets together with Jungkook spotting a hickey from Jimin

Checking out their photoshoot pics together, with Jungkook's hand going inside Jimin's top

Doing AYS together which allowed them to travel together and spend time with each other (which in my opinion was their main intention) in between their hectic schedules

And enlisting together

Lately, it seems like Jimin and Jungkook are taking every opportunity to reassert the fact that they're together.

They have never shied away from showing us that they're the closest and that there is something between them that goes beyond friendship. They have been giving us all these hints from a very long time. And it reached its peak in 2023. I can't understand how some people could even doubt whether Jikook broke up during that time because they were the loudest in 2023. It was so obvious starting from Jungkook's lives all the way to Jimin's WHO MV, if you know what I'm implying.

And after the release of AYS they have been sharing more and more with us about themselves and what they're to each other.

Also, proving time and again that KARMA will come around.

Every Single Time:

1) Tkkrs were yapping about how Jungkook was dragged into AYS by Jimin and the company only for Jungkook himself to say that those were the best trips of his life and repeatedly expressing how happy he was in AYS Sapporo.

2) Tkkrs waiting for a taekook companion enlistment only for Jikook to do it instead. And we found out that Jikook had started the process months before.

Heard Tkkrs are still going on about how couples can't enlist and that Jungkook's tattoos were preventing him from enlisting with Taehyung. At this point they look so pathetic and I can't help but laugh when I read about their theories and excuses which keeps on changing.

3) Tkkrs and Jikook antis claimed that Jikook were avoiding each other like the plague during their enlistment only for Jungkook and Jimin to repeatedly confirm that they're together. Tkkrs harrasing Jimin and his Dad only for Jungkook to go live the next day, mention Jimin four times. Said they take showers together and basically confirmed that they spend time together everyday.

4) Jikook sending joint flower wreath over which k jkkrs went crazy over because that's a couple behaviour. They were the only individuals who sent a flower wreath together.

I can't understand this hate towards Jikook. Why would anyone be so against two people who love each other so deeply and want to spend their lives with each other creating memories and achieving their dreams. It looks like they're just jealous of Jimin and Jungkook's beautiful love something they may have never experienced in their own lives.

Was I too harsh there? I try to focus on supporting and celebrating Jikook rather than talking about certain groups of people but I guess sometimes it just comes out.

Apart from that I'm really excited for Jikook! They're returning very soon and I can't wait to see them together again. I'm also very curious to see how they're going to portray themselves to us, how much are they willing to share with us. During the last few months they have been sharing a lot with us probably more than I ever expected, starting with the release of AYS. They have shown us that their relationship has a very strong foundation and that all they need is each other to endure any obstacles that come their way.

Both of them are hardcore romantics at heart. You may ask how do I know that? Because of how they behave around and with each other. And it looks like they're going to be even more louder than they have ever been. I don't expect them to come out or anything and I wouldn't want that if they prefer to keep it private. That's their right and their choice and we have no place to question it. I'm very grateful for whatever they have given us so far because it has been loads especially considering they're still closeted. And I think that most of the time we see all these hints, signs and interesting behaviors from them, not because they want to show them to us but because its in their nature to be attentive and attuned to each other. It comes naturally to them. But then there are times when they deliberately want to make a point and let us know without saying it explicitly. Because some things don't need to be stated vocally for us to understand. We can all see it and know exactly what's going on.

So yeah, I'm all buckled up for Chapter 3!

Credits to the owner of the video

[putschki1969]

『Hikaru LIVE TOUR -ROUND-』 KYOTO

Tweet by Hikaru | Instagram story by Hikaru | Instagram post by Hikaru

▼2024 11/30 (Sat) Soul Power, Toyama 17:30 / 18:00 12/07 (Sat) Music Bar Perch, Aichi 17:30 / 18:00 12/14 (Sat) LIVE HOUSE enn 2nd, Miyagi 17:30 / 18:00 12/21 (Sat) MUSE, Kyoto 17:00 / 17:30

▼2025 02/11 (Tue) Club eX, Tokyo 17:00 / 18:00

Setlist Notes: The new song is called “With”. I originally thought it was “Wish”. My bad! Not sure about the order of some of those songs (maybe there’s something missing too??). I had to wait till I was on the train to write everything down but at that point, all the songs had gotten mixed up in my mind. It was made worse by the fact that I didn’t immediately recognise some of them and Hikaru didn’t always introduce them either☠️

That ticket holder clearfile looks so good!! Glad we got this as tokuten. A bit bummed though that there was no special design for the drink ticket😿For those who bought more than one copy of the “Mask” EP, there was a special present too, an alternative cover image. Super pretty 🤩 I mostly spent the rest of my day in Kyoto eating touristy stuff 😅And I headed to the Pokemon Center to get a few exclusive items for my nieces/nephews.

On a side note, those pink gummies were posted by Keiko earlier this week on her Yodel app. Of course I had to get them too (tho the packaging is a bit different, there’s a variety of designs. I got the same design as her today🤗)

1.With 2.Treasure??? 3.Koganeiro no Yakusoku 4.Flow 5.Survivor 6.Under the rain (acoustic ver.) 7.Lack 8.YES/NO 9.Disclose 10.Escape 11.End of line 12.Kiseki En 1.Breathe En 2.紡-TSUMUGU-

Some highlights: I was SUPER close to the stage, it was AMAZING!!🤩 You can even see me quite clearly on the photo that Hikaru posted 🤗So glad she allowed us to take off our masks for the photo. Wouldn’t have wanted to miss that opportunity.

As always, Hikaru had an incredible stage presence, she was confident and cool, oozing charisma during each and every performance. I feel like we made eye contact several times but maybe that’s just wishful thinking 🙃Her singing was powerful and even though I didn’t always recognise the song (shame on me), I had a good time. “Under the rain” was hands down my favourite 💕So beautiful. I almost cried. She sounded better than she ever did before. The acoustic arrangement is very flattering. The upbeat songs were a ton of fun (despite sitting right in front of the speakers☠️). Hikaru literally rocked the stage🔥I almost feel bad for not being more active but I guess I’m just not the type to move a lot. (Clapping is the most I’ll usually do😅)

Sorry for adding lots of stuff on the go. I forgot to mention that Hikaru teased some upcoming solo activities for 2025. She says there are already more or less concrete plans but she will wait to make an announcement until everything is finalised. Of course she also briefly discussed the Kalafina Anniversary concert and asked who of us was planning to go. Obviously, almost everyone said that they would come, Hikaru seemed very happy about that and ensured us that they would put all of their love and strength into delivering the best possible music to us so we should all look forward to it.

EP Mask Tracklist Notes: For some reason I thought there would be more new songs🫣But it’s just “With”. The other tracks have been released digitally already.

1.with 2.End of line 3.Lack 4.Koganeiro no Yakusoku 5.Breathe 6.Kiseki

13th Single 「End of line」 MV (Short ver.) ④

And here’s another music video clip of the MV for Hikaru’s latest single release. You can watch it on Instagram! Also be sure to check out her YouTube Short. The song is featured on her EP “Mask” which is set to be on sale at her solo tour venues.

[icarus-n-flames]

I posted about this on twitter but I had another idea that came to me. I know we all do love ourselves a clueless Charles, but what about Edwin? Stick with me here, this is inspired by true events.

I want to see a version of Edwin that is so consumed by his love for Charles and the tiny ache of how it might never be, who completely misses the memo that he HAS what he wanted. He overhears Charles talking to a client or someone saying that he couldn’t make a concert or whatever because he had a date with his partner and Edwin is just distraught and distracted. It was fine when no labels were involved, he could pretend that it was fine and he wasn’t bothered but wasn’t a label more serious?

Tired of the mood swings, cagey behavior and solemn looks, Charles eventually confronts him. Immediately Edwin makes a snide remark about how Charles must be quite busy with Crystal and whatever Charles thinks is happening they can discuss it later.

Charles is proper confused at this point and is like “Did she need something? Why would I be busy with Crystal?”

And at this point Edwin is trying very hard to look unbothered while flipping through a tome on idk cryptid feeding habits and mating rituals. “Well, she is your girlfriend, isn’t she?”

Now Charles is even more confused. His boyfriend is sitting here saying he’s dating someone else. For a minute he’s fairly certain he’s being accused of cheating but he remains calm. “Mate, that’s been over for like a year. What are you on about?”

Edwin honestly feels like he wants the earth to swallow him whole because not only is Charles dating someone, it’s someone he doesn’t even know. Was Charles worried about him meeting them? Was he trying to spare his feelings? He sets the book down, adjusting his cuff that does not need it before saying as nonchalantly as he can. “I heard you mention a partner the other day is all.”

“I mean yeh, you. What about it?”

Edwin can’t help but sigh and stand from the desk at this point. “Not that kind of partner Charles, don’t be daft. You’re courting someone, dating…”

At this point Charles can’t be sure if he’s frustrated or amused. He places a hand to one of Edwin’s shoulders, keeping him from storming off somewhere. He says as slowly as he possibly can, making sure he looks Edwin right in the eyes. “I was talking about you.”

Edwin freezes because wait, had he really said that and then he just blurts the loudest, most confused “WHAT?!” He’s been tearing himself to shreds inside for MONTHS.

“We’ve been dating for like…6 months, Edwin, what do you mean “what?” and now they’re both confused because somewhere along the line Charles thought he was being very clear about his intentions but Edwin didn’t realize anything had changed. He’d thought everything was normal. As much as he was conscious about Charles’ touches he always told himself he was in denial and Charles thought Edwin was just a old fashioned sort and would need a lot of time if not an eternity of time to really progress their relationship beyond a the barest of kinship and occasional flirting and hand holding.

No idea exactly how the initial conversation went that made Charles like “Bet, we’re dating now” and Edwin just miss it entirely. If someone has any ideas feel free to share lmaooo.

[bloodmaarked]

cultish: the language of fanaticism // amanda montell

first published: 2021 read: 06 january 2025 - 24 january 2025 pages: 310 format: e-book

genres: non-fiction; sociology; language first line(s): "it started with a prayer."

rating: 🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 thoughts: i started out wanting to rate cultish 4* because i had a pretty good time reading it, and i do feel like there was a learning experience. however, at the turn of the last page, i kept thinking of what more i might've wanted out of this book, and that feeling led me to want to drop it half a star. cultish definitely brought topics around cults and cult mentality to light that i wasn't aware of, but i felt like there was a lot of scope to go perhaps wider, and certainly deeper.

cults are, in general society, very fascinating. we are so intrigued and weirded out by the idea that someone could become so heavily influenced that they give up family, friends, life as they know it to follow a deified cult leader. my cult knowledge really goes as far as scientology, which is creepy enough to me, but i was really interested in other cults that were mentioned throughout, such as jonestown and synanon. what i enjoyed was the look at not just what the cults did, but how individuals might end up falling prey to people who don't have their best interests at heart, and how this is mostly down to language. cultish language even pervades everyday discussions; once 'thought-terminating' phrases were highlighted, i couldn't help but think of plenty of discussions i've had both on and offline that came to screeching halts because of phrases that leave no room for debate. we are subject to, and use, a lot of influential language and it's really interesting to take that new perspective after having read this book. i also enjoyed looking at cult-adjacent groups (think cult-fitness groups like soulcycle, or MLMs) that have a distinctly culty feel to them yet are embedded in society.

i would have liked an even deeper look at the language used, a slightly more technical discussion and examination of the linguistics of cults. i did like that the book was very accessible, but i think a more technical discussion could have still been had, with a deeper focus on the language, without turning off readers. perhaps that's because i took a sociolinguistics class in uni, so maybe i'm a little more interested in this than the general reader.

i also came away somewhat in disbelief that of all the cult-adjacent groups that were discussed, fandom was not one of them! if you asked people to name things that aren't quite a cult but definitely feel like one, they'd probably mention either fandoms or republicans lol. i would know myself, having spent my most important teenage years firmly embedded in the "cult" of one direction, with all its language that outsiders wouldn't quite understand (the more of which you can use, the better you can prove how devoted you are), and us-versus-them mentalities towards fandoms of other artists who don't quite cut it. i feel like that would have been a massively interesting area to explore, especially given that, while celebrities obviously aren't cult leaders, some of them really do lean into the parasocialism of their fans and have a strong hand in blurring the lines between time spent supporting faves and the rest of reality. not to mention the capitalistic tie-in (buy merch, concert tickets, every version of each album!) which, as the book shows, is a big part of the rhetoric around cults.

so, while i enjoyed cultish, i would've liked a little more from it overall. i'd still recommend it if it interests you though, as i learned a lot! and i have the age of magical overthinking already on my list, so i hope that's as good if not better.

[unactive-shroom]

hello! i hope you're doing well. for your Valentine's event, may I request nikolai lantsov with prompt #4? have a great day!

Prompt #4: Proposal ♡

“It seems like someone has a very important question to ask… and what better time to do it but on Valentine’s night?”

Character: Nikolai Lantsov. See Valentine's Event: HERE

You stood at the edge of the lake, watching the purple glow of dusk slowly swallowing the last of the early February sunshine. It had been thirteen months since Alina Starkov had left the Little Palace, and despite her offering for you to join her and Mal, you had remained by Nikolai’s side in Os Alta. Recently you’ve found yourself taking the long winding path through the trees to the Little Palace, reminiscing about the days you would spend together at the lake, chatting and feasting on blini or pelmeni stolen from the kitchen. A hand snuck around your waist. “I thought I’d find you here.” You smiled and sunk into Nikolai’s warm embrace, not realising the cold that had crept up on you. “I get that the Grand Palace is ugly on the outside and all that, but really, y/n, you’ll catch a chill if you keep coming down here without warm clothes” he said as he fussed over you, pulling a heavy velvet cloak around you. Once satisfied that you were warm, he turned his attention to the lake. The silence stretched between you two until Nikolai softly said ”You know we can visit them, right? Keramzin isn’t too far away. We could stay a few nights, bring some gifts, maybe. Or maybe they could come visit us, either.” You chuckled at that part. “I think Alina’s had enough of the palaces by now. Besides, isn’t it too risky for them to come here? They are supposedly dead, you know. And I think that people might start to get suspicious if the King of Ravka and his entourage start to regularly visit an orphange.” he hummed in agreement, tilting his head. “It’s okay, Nikolai. We did just see them, what, two months ago? I’m just being nostalgic, that’s all. Let’s head back to the Palace, It’s cold.” He took your arm in his, a look of feigned pain on his face. “Funny how you always seem to want to go back whenever I join you. Unrequited love is a terrible, terrible thing. Am’st I doomed to be alone forever-?” You let go of his arm and strode ahead of him, in no mood to put up with his antics. “Y/n, wait! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, let’s go warm up, please?”

A few hours later, whilst Nikolai was in some meeting, you found yourself in the concert hall. Empty, as always, but with a beautiful, sleek, black grand piano in the centre of the stage. Your footsteps echo, magnifying your pathway to the stage, announcing your presence as you pull out the piano stool, and as you played, you thought about how you had gotten here. Going from a high ranking army officer, experienced in intense and gruesome warfare, fighting alongside friends and seeing horrors unlike any other, to sitting here now, in a sleek and comfortable kefta, playing piano, and living in a palace. Of course, you were still a very active member of the army, and while politics held a greater position in your life than it had previously, you still had many army duties, one including tuition at the little palace. But recently, no doubt accredited to Nikolai, you had a lot of free time. “Mandatory resting periods for those involved in the war”, as he called it. And, not to mention, the whole country’s eye on you and Nikolai after a stablehand had leaked information about yours and Nikolai’s relationship. At this point, you were simply waiting for the day where acquiring a Ravkan Queen, a wife for Nikolai, was simply unavoidable, and the relationship was cut off. It made you sick to the depths of your very being, but you were determined to enjoy it while it lasted. It’s something that had always hung over the two of you, and at the beginning of your courtship you had discussed it in great detail, and you were adamant on the fact that when the time came for Nikolai to choose a wife, they would simply forget their relationship and move on with their lives. But it was getting increasingly difficult for both of you. You’d noticed that Nikolai had been closer to you recently, constantly there whenever you both had free time, or, pestering you at work, egging you on to leave work to go read with him in the library or take a walk around the palace grounds. And you had felt closer to him too, saving snippets of poetry for him in books you read, playing melodies for him on piano. These small, intimate moments meant everything to you, especially knowing that Nikolai had very little time left to spend with you before he was married off to some stranger.

Leaving the concert hall and heading back to your chambers, you heard voices in the hallway ahead of you - Nikolai and Zoya. “I just- I don’t know how to tell her, Zoya. How can I ask her-?” he sighed audibly, running a hand through his hair. He turned, and locked eyes on you. “Oh- Y/n!” The marble floor seemed to grow colder through your shoes as Zoya looked at him meaningfully. “I think you and Nikolai ought to take a quick walk around the Palace, Y/n. I’ll see you in the morning, your Majesty. Good night.”. As Zoya’s footsteps echoed down the hallway, you felt your heart fall to your stomach. This was it. Nikolai was going to tell you he had found a suitable bride and that it was no longer possible for this relationship to continue. You swallowed, and smiled at Nikolai, not wanting to draw this out any longer. “Shall we?”

You and Nikolai walked side by side through the moonlit gardens in utter silence, until finally, stopping at the glaringly white marble statue of some old king, you stopped. “Nikolai, I know what’s happening.” You whispered, turning your head away from him. “You do? Y/n, I-” You shook your head. “Don’t. I undertsand, Nikolai. You need to do what’s best for your country, I’ve always loved that about you. Just…before we part ways, I need to ask you for one last thing - and then I’ll be gone by morning, your majesty.” You turned to face him, a single tear betraying your determination to not cry, only to find Nikolai on one knee, a look of utter bewilderness on his face. You mirrored the look, not knowing what he was doing. “…why are you on the ground? Nikolai, you’ll ruin your clothes, and it’s far too cold to be-” You sniffled. “Y/n. Please let me talk. I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, but you can’t leave now - and what’s this about us parting ways? I think you really misunderstood what I’m asking you.” Nikolai cleared his throat, suddenly looking nervous. “I… I know that our relationship hasn’t been under the best circumstances - first as Sturmhond, when I quite litterally held you captive on a boat for the state enemy and yet you fell for me, Saints knows how, and then when I proposed marriage to Alina… and now, having to keep our relationship secret…” He took a deep breath. “I know it’s been impossibly unfair on you. But please, y/n. Allow me this selfish idea - at least consider it - because I mean it when I say that you are my everything. You thrive in politics, the people love you, you have given incredible service to Ravka, you’ve fought wars - been through hell and back for this country, your beauty is unmatched even by the primal, eldest saints of the land - the sun and moon themselves are outshone by your radiance. When I imagine the ideal Queen for this country, the only person I can see fitting the role is you. Y/n L/n, would you allow me the honour of being your husband? Will you marry me?” In a complete and utter state of shock, you took a step back, incrediously shaking your head. “Me? But- but Grisha can’t- I have no title, no links to nobility - I’m an orphan from Keramzin! What will you get from marrying me?” Nikolai remained on one knee, looking directly at you. “What would I get from marrying the love of my life? Saints, y/n, I would get happiness. I would be able to go to sleep in the arms of the person I love, be able to count on her unwavering support that she’s shown me since day one, be able to wake up every morning and know that whatever happens today, I have the most incredible person by my side. I would be able to feel safety in my role as King, with an incredibly capable Queen by my side, beloved of the people and the crown itself, and know that I will not have to spend my life yearning for the woman I sent away so that I could marry for political values, as she would be in her rightful place by my side. I would do anything for you, y/n. But I just can’t bear the thought of you leaving me.”

At this point, your vision was blurry with tears, but you felt Nikolai take your hand. “Well, my love? What do you say?” You felt the tension in his gentle hold of your hand. “If you’re sure about this… then yes. I do. I will gladly marry you, Nikolai.” He beamed at you, standing up and wrapping you in his familiar, warm embrace. As he wiped the tears from your eyes, you giggled. “So does this mean that I get to call you Nikolai even when referring to you?” “You could always do that, my love.” “Yeah, but, if I did, I’d get funny looks. Oooh, can I give you nicknames now, too? How about Niko? LaiLai? Kolai? E-Kolai?” You gasped suddenly, startling Nikolai. “Oh, I have to tell Alina and Mal!” He smiled, then hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, We’ll have to make a public address too. Then decide on the length of the engagement, do a tour, loads of boring court stuff - but it shouldn’t be too bad with you by my side. Now come along, it really is quite cold. How about we have a glass of brandy’s to celebrate? The one the Kerch ambassador sent awhile ago has been calling my name, but I simply hadn’t a good enough reason to break it out…”

A.n: Y’all the amount of Nikolai Requests I have in my inbox is INSANE. ALSO WHEN I WAS WRITING THIS I MIXED UP MAL AND MATHIAS?? so glad that I realised cause wtf. also I had to break up the last paragraph bc apparently tumblr has a limit of words u can have in one text block?? anyways. thanks for requesting, I hope you enjoyed <3

[hotcat37]

JO boyfriend headcanons please?🙏🙏 Doesn't have to be x reader but just in general

I got you ♂️

Jan:

-I see him as the type to have not had many relationships (maybe 1 or 2 at most) but they have always been serious and he doesn't date people impulsively. There would definitely need to be at least 6 months worth of slow burn between him and his partner before he considers a relationship

-so the buildup to dating might be potentially frustrating but that's just because he really wants to be a good boyfriend and he needs time to sort out his feelings for a person. He'll definitely suggest taking things slow the first few weeks of dating

-doesn't have many absolute requirements for a partner but being kind towards animals is definitely a must. Igor is his baby and he'd need a partner who is also willing to take care of the cat if they start living together

-mornings with him are slow and lazy, he prefers to sleep in as much as possible. Coffee and breakfast in bed are not uncommon. If his partner has an earlier schedule than him he will try to help and get breakfast ready on time but most of the time he'll probably doze off out of fatigue

-is more of a stay in kinda person rather than going out. Loves to just play guitar while his partner is cuddled up to him with some takeout. Also enjoys going on walks in nature and making his way through fields hand in hand with his partner

Bojan:

-tends to fall hard and fast for people so is likely the one to confess and initiate things first. However he also understands when things are moving too fast and is totally respectful if his partner needs more time to get to know him before getting into anything romantic

-very sweet and romantic, will get his partner flowers randomly and do other small gestures as a show of appreciation like cleaning the house and cooking dinner

-unfortunately given that he's the frontman of the band, he wouldn't really want to be open about the relationship to the fans. There's a certain image he needs to uphold as to not break immersion so his partner would have to understand that he wouldn't post them on main or say anything that would imply he's not single. That being said he will tone down the flirting with fans significantly and make sure his partner knows they're loved and appreciated

-does get very anxious sometimes even outside of stressful settings like a concert or before an interview. Needs a partner that will reassure and comfort him when he feels too scared to do something, sometimes even things he's done 100 of times before will suddenly seem impossible and his partner would have to be very understanding of his mental illness

-likes going on dates where you do activities like bowling and karaoke. Is playful and competitive so he definitely wouldn't hold back while playing a game. He's also just trying to impress his partner lmao

Jure:

-is a bit unsure about relationships, has had a few in the past but the spark either fizzled out or it was too difficult to balance a relationship with band life. He is open to dating tho but he'd want to discuss beforehand the things that come with dating a rockstar who goes on tour every few months

-kind of a thrill seeker, likes going out to clubs and climbing trees and exploring abandoned places in the woods. Would want a partner that either enjoys the same lifestyle or is okay with indulging in it occasionally. However will of course tone things down and choose to stay home some days too if his partner prefers staying in

-most private one in the band but will probably casually mention being in a relationship during an interview. Otherwise doesn't reveal any other information about his partner

-very affectionate, likes sitting in his partner's lap or having them sit in his. Big on public display of affection and will feel a bit sad if his partner isn't into that at all. Will put a lot of effort into spending time with his lover

-if they've been dating long enough he'd suggest adopting a pet with his partner. Preferably a cat of course <3 Is open to dogs as well

Kris:

-not at all subtle when he likes someone, will be very obvious about being in love but you'll catch him dead before he makes the first move to actually confess. Needs to be put out of his misery and be blatantly asked out

-would try to keep the relationship private as to avoid strong reactions from fans but might accidentally mention his partner in an interview or unrelated video. Will apologize profusely to his lover afterwards even if they don't care

-enjoys showing off his partner while going out on dates. Likes to go clothes shopping and eating out at cozy cafe's. Greatly enjoys linking his arm with his partner's as they walk

-is much more soft and sweet towards his partner. Still accidentally says unhinged things sometimes but tries to be mindful not to blurt out anything potentially hurtful. The guys tease him about being much nicer to his lover and he'll become embarrassed but it won't deter him

-is tall and will obnoxiously bend down to kiss a shorter partner. Will be a little thrown off at first if his partner is the same height or taller but quickly enjoys not having to break his neck in order to kiss them

Nace:

-tries to be subtle about being in love with his future partner but promptly fails to do so. Will ask someone out after taking them on a proper date, probably after having been friends with them for a while

-taking care of someone is his main love language. Will cook with love for his partner, comfort them after a bad day and give them his jacket when they're cold. Make sure to return this same amount of affection to him!

-wants a partner that likes animals because he's got his turtles and Pino. Would need to be able to count on his lover to walk the dog and feed the turtles when he's unable to because of touring

-prefers going on more private dates like to the cinema or walking alongside a beach. Will splash out on special occasions and take his partner to a fancy restaurant if they want that or get them an expensive gift. That being said he ultimately prefers to just be at home and infodump about random topics while him and his partner enjoy the same or separate activities

-is still self-conscious about his body so his lover would need to be very respectful of his boundaries. Does appreciate them complimenting him and trying to get him to be more confident but some days he just wants to keep the shirt on and that's okay

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Faust from lords of chaos. During a black circle meeting reader and Faust go upstairs and do something’s (smut if you want or they could just be cuddling) in Euromymous bed. 🖤🖤

Hello my dear anon thank you fore this cute request (I'm sorry that it took longer but it's finally done). So I hope you like and everyone has fun reading :)

Cuddle Concert

warning : just big fluff and comfort, reader is female, cuddling

masterlist

Disclaimer : I don't want to glorify anything, it's about the actors who play a role, not the real events.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At night in Oslow, in the part of town that wasn't the best, the party was in full swing in the basement of Mayhem founder Euronymous's record shop. After a successful concert and finishing the new album, they had all come here to party and not too hard.

Loud, fast, hard and dark death metal music came from Mayhem who gave a small live performance for the black circle. Actually it was a simple meeting, a meeting to discuss new albums and just find new ideas with a small concert well almost. Which was only enhanced by the compressed space.

And when Death Metal fans meet, the meeting was forgotten faster than anything else. Besides, the third beer crate was already opened and one or the other had already fled to the sink to empty his stomach.

Pizza was lying everywhere on plates and tables and one or the other piece of clothing had already been torn off the body. Not to mention the cigarettes and joints that were lying and being squeezed out in the drinks and ashtrays.

In the chaos of the singing band, the drunken people dancing and shouting along. Faust and his girlfriend sat together on the old sofa which had seen better days. Both had a beer in their hands and were watching their mutual friends partying around them.

Whether it was the wild roar of Occultus' song or the dancing of Varg who had already blown away one or the other with his guitar. ,,The private concert is always the best," she heard Faust murmur as he put his beer on the already overcrowded table and put his arm around her again.

Nodding in agreement, she grinned at her friends and snuggled up to Faust as she slowly began to feel the effects of the many hours of partying.

Whether it was physical exhaustion, a slightly scratchy voice from the roaring, or just the slight headache that came over her. Putting down her own beer, she ran her hand over her sleep and sighed lightly. A little quieter roar would be nicer she thought, watching Euronymous as he seemed to push his guitar to the limit with his solo.

She felt Faust take his arm away from her and let his gaze wander over her. Before he rose and pulled her with him through the group towards the stairs. ,,What's wrong?" she asked, looking back and forth between Mayhem and him, slightly confused, as she slowly walked up with him.

Not only did she instantly feel air that hadn't been breathed ten times already enter her lungs, her headache lessened and she could finally breathe a sigh of relief. ,,Is it better?" he asked with a grin and climbed onto the bed, which was surprisingly soft. ,,Yep, actually," she replied and came to lie down next to him on the bed. Really soft she thought and adjusted her pillow and was about to lie down again when she felt Faust pull her towards him.

So that she was now lying on top of him and had a warmer, softer, more loving surface to lie on. ,,That's even better," he quipped and chuckled as she pretended to shake her new pillow before lying back down on him. His hands went to her hips, holding her on top of him and tracing small relaxing circles on her body.

Which were more pleasant than Mayhem screaming and singing for hours. ,,I know when you're feeling bad...let's just stay here," he decided and sighed with pleasure before hugging her like a pillow and closing his eyes to give his equally exhausted body a rest. ,,Let's do this until the morning, my heart," she repeated and did the same. She sighed too and made herself more comfortable on top of him before resting her head on his torso and closing her eyes.

The small circles he continued to draw were almost like hypnosis which was disturbed by the quiet heartbeat she heard. As if she were being lulled to sleep by the heartbeat that reflected nothing but peace and love. There was nothing more soothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@mayhem-things , @beldamama , @bvg-w1res

[rebelliousmuse]

Time Capsule - M.S.

Warning: mention of panic attacks.

---------------------------------------------------

Laughter echoed through the room, a mix of Nate's booming guffaws and Madi's high-pitched squeals as Chloe recounted a hilarious story. You were all sprawled on mismatched couches in your living room. As the four boys discussed their upcoming trip, a wave of pride washed over you. They meticulously planned the route and created a list of things they would need, while Chris peppered the conversation with outrageous (but secretly hilarious) ideas.

Nick slammed his hand on the table, interrupting Chris’ comments with a gasp so theatrical his eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Oh my God, guys, remember the time capsule we did as teens?" A wide grin split his face. "We buried that thing in the backyard years ago, practically ancient history!"

Of course, you remembered the dented metal box, decorated with peeling stickers and hopeful teenage scribbles, filled with dreams and silly trinkets. "Oh yeah! I almost forgot about that!" you exclaimed. "We should definitely open it now."

The time capsule had been a clandestine operation, buried under the cover of darkness on the night before your fifteenth birthday. A pact had been made to unearth it when one of you turned 21, and with the triplets’ birthday just a month away, the timing felt perfect.

Chris plunged the shovel into the packed earth until a metallic clang was heard. The shovel had found its target. Kneeling, you brushed away the dirt, revealing a dented metal box, its once vibrant stickers faded and peeling.

Inside, random things lay nestled together: faded concert tickets, plastic army men with chipped paint, a well-worn copy of your favourite childhood book, and more. Tentatively, you picked up a folded piece of paper, the familiar scrawl of Matt's handwriting on it. "y/n," it read.

--

Across the room, Matt's eyes darted around the room, unable to meet yours, as he fidgeted with his fingers, nervous as his mind flashed back.

You crammed into Matt's messy room. As Matt tucked the note into the box, your gaze fell upon your name scrawled across the fold. "What's that, Matt?" you'd asked curiously. "You'll have to wait a few years to find out, sorry," he'd mumbled, his cheeks flushing a rosy red.

Oh no.

He had totally forgotten about it and now it was too late to get your hands off the paper. Memories flooded his mind – stolen glances in the school hallway, shy smiles exchanged over shared jokes. He'd poured his heart onto that paper, naively believing the act of writing it down would somehow exorcise his feelings. Nick had convinced him to put it in the time capsule. "Just bury it deep," Nick had said. "Out of sight, out of mind, right?" Matt had clung to that hope, a wish that somehow, all these years later, the feelings would just... vanish.

But the past refused to stay buried. As you unfolded the note, Matt's heart going wild. The truth was about to come out, and he had no idea how you'd react.

Matt couldn't tear his gaze from the note. As your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you read, fear gripped him. His breath hitched in his throat, and his hands instinctively curled into fists. He needed to get out. Now.

He didn't think, he just reacted. With a surge of adrenaline, he lurched backward. The room seemed to shrink, the air thick and suffocating. He stumbled towards the door, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Reaching the bathroom door, his fingers, slick with sweat, fumbled with the lock. A choked gasp escaped his lips as he slammed the door shut. He leaned against the cool wood as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to control the tremors wracking his body. The taste of panic filled him. He had to get a grip. He had to figure out what to do next. But for now, the locked bathroom door was the only barrier between him and you.

--

The note fluttered in your hand, the words blurring as a wave of surprise washed over you. A mixture of emotions swirled in your chest – curiosity, amusement, nervousness. You glanced around the room, searching for Matt, but he was gone. "Matt?" you called out, looking around for him.

"Marylou?" you called, heading towards the kitchen. "Have you seen Matt?" Her answer, a shake of her head, did little to ease the knot forming in your stomach as you climbed the stairs. At the top you saw the bathroom door firmly shut. You heard muffled sounds, and ragged gasps for breath.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door. "Matt? Is that you?"

--

Matt's vision blurred at the edges. His breath came in ragged gasps, each inhale did nothing to ease the pressure building in his chest. The room seemed to tilt, the walls threatening to cave in on him. He sank to the floor, his arms wrapped around his torso in an attempt to hold himself together. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Then, a voice pierced the fog of his panic. Your voice. "Matt? Is that you?" It was laced with concern.

"Are you okay?" The question hung in the air. He was paralyzed 'What do I do now?' The question echoed in his mind. His breaths hitched and his body wracked with silent sobs.

--

"Matt!" you called alarmed. "Matt, please answer me!". Just as despair threatened to consume you, a rasping voice broke through the silence.

"I can't… breathe," he choked out barely audible words. Relief washed over you. "Matt, let me in!" you pleaded. From inside, you heard a shuffling sound, then a weak groan as he fumbled with the lock. The door creaked open a sliver, revealing Matt's pale face. His eyes were shut, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. His hands, trembling violently, tore at the collar of his shirt in a desperate attempt to get more air. Without hesitation, you pushed the door open and rushed to his side.

You sank down onto the cool tile floor beside him, pulling him into a hug. His trembling body pressed against yours, his ragged breaths hot against your neck. Taking a deep breath yourself, you focused on the grounding technique you'd seen online. "Okay, Matt," you said, your voice soft but firm. "Let's focus on your senses. Okay?".

Matt didn't respond at first, his grip on you tightening almost imperceptibly. The suggestion hung in the air for a moment. Matt squeezed his eyes shut. "Okay," he whispered, opening his eyes. You smiled encouragingly. "Alright, Matt. What five things can you see right now?" He scanned the small bathroom, still shaking, his gaze landing on the chipped porcelain sink. "Sink…” he said with a trembling voice, “Shower… mirror, floor”, he took a deep breath “Curtains”.

You continued, guiding him through the exercise. With each question, Matt seemed to anchor himself a little more firmly in the present. He described the cool tile beneath his fingertips, the sharp scent of disinfectant, the way the flickering light cast dancing shadows on the walls. His breaths came slower, deeper, the ragged gasps replaced by a steady rhythm.

“Very good, Matt. Last one, name one thing you can hear.” You said as you continued hugging him. "I hear… your heartbeat," he mumbled. You held him close, stroking his hair in a slow, calming rhythm. His grip on you loosened slightly, replaced by a tremor that gradually subsided.

You slowly pulled away, your gaze lingering on Matt's face. He avoided your eyes. "Better?" you asked softly.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Thanks." He shuffled his feet, his entire posture radiating a desperate need for escape. Taking a deep breath, Matt spoke. "I forgot about it... the letter, and I just..." His voice trailed off.

"Why did that make you panic?" you asked "You were just a kid, it's not like you still feel that way," you finished your sentence with a hint of disappointment colouring your tone.

Matt's head snapped up, his teary gaze meeting yours. "And what if I still feel those things?" he said in a whisper as his eyes wandered away from yours again.

Surprise flickered across your face. Reaching out, you cupped his face making him look at you once more. "Do you?" you asked. Matt nodded hesitantly.

Leaning in, you met his gaze. "Kiss me," you whispered. Matt opened his mouth “What-”, but the words died on his lips as you crushed your lips against his.

Matt, caught off guard by your boldness, froze for a moment. Then, he melted into the kiss. His hand, which had been hovering awkwardly at his side, crept up to rest on the back of your head, his fingers grabbing your hair slightly. Your hand moved to cradle his cheek. The kiss deepened, in a slow, sensual exploration of each other’s mouth. His lips moving in synchronicity with yours.

You pulled away, both of you gasping for air. Your foreheads rested against each other for a moment. Matt's eyes held yours. He seemed to be searching for answers.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he finally asked, his voice thick with a mix of frustration and a vulnerability you hadn't seen before.

"Why didn't you?" you countered. “Cause I’m a coward” he said with a joking tone. You mirrored it, "Hey, don't insult my man." A genuine smile lit up Matt's face. He bit his lower lip. "Your man?" he repeated, pulling you close by the waist “I like how that sounds”, he finished saying, leaning in, connecting your lips once more.

[eonars]

ive tried like 3 times now so i guess im gonna do this in parts

so last thursday i went out with a man id been talking to off An App since before i went on that work trip, the conversation over text wasnt necessarily flowing ever and there were some long pauses while i was away that had me convinced it was joever but he always popped back up and even asked me how things were going and what i was doing. so we meet up the day after i get back and across 3 different bars and 5 drinks we get on like a house on fire. both like the same music (we were both at the same music festival in early august, talked about that a ton obviously) both play the same games (both main death knight and do very high mythic plus keys in wow) and as we get more comfortable with each other we start holding hands and intertwining legs and stuff while sat down. we make all kinds of plans for future concerts to go to together ranging from aura noir in like 2 weeks to him saying he will let me know if he ends up with a spare ticket to sigur ros in november because if he does he'll definitely take me along. we talk about different horror movies to watch together and he lets me yap on nonstop about fish related stuff, which he's actually super knowledgeable about and tells me i sound so lovely when i talk about it and i explain things so well that anyone could understand them and that it's amazing to listen to. he says he's so proud to know someone so intelligent who might actually do something notable for science and put this country on the map for scientific discoveries. we talk about art and he asks me what my favorites are in the national gallery in town and why and we discuss them. i mention i do art and he asks to see and literally can't contain himself when i show him and says i'm amazingly talented. things are going so well and the conversation about music and games and concerts and art and science has not idled or stopped once that when he's like oh shit i have to run for the train i'm like well instead of running we can continue having drinks here and then wait for the trains to start again at mine? and he's super down so we head back to mine and crowd together on my tiny twin bed in my tiny bedroom sized flat and he lets me put on jewels of the rift, the crunchy jpg quality reuploaded ancient natgeo documentary about cichlids i watch on youtube every time im feeling down. i tell him wow i've never been able to convince anyone to watch jewels of the rift with me before and he's like ohh don't worry i'm here now and about 40 minutes into jewels of the rift things get a bit 😏 but i stop things from going tooooo too far and we both have the worst nights sleep ever on a 90cm wide bed as two 6ft+ people who have been drinking heavily. he leaves at 7:30am and hugs me and quietly says it was really nice to meet me and i tell him to text me when he gets in which he doesn't so i text a little bit later asking if he got in ok. he says he only just woke up then and because i know he has work that night i ask how it's going and he just says it's going ok. i reply with a half joking type thing about how i hopefully didn't give him the german engineering university plague and get left on read so on sunday i text asking if he'd be interested in hanging out again sometime and then put my notifications off and go into the woods. i don't realize he replies 5 min later with "I'm a bit busy these coming weeks. But we can probably go to a concert or something sometime if you want :)" which feels really. not good to read. and so i reply back saying i'm definitely going to the aura noir show we talked about in like 10 days so just let me know and get left on read. it's now thursday and i still haven't heard anything and like.

[kpopbestie96]

Chapter Eight

You let your friends in, excited to have George, Dani, Gabby and Bella (the friend that got sick and couldn't go to the concert) over. This was your third time seeing her, but you both became fast friends - as if you both have known each other for years.

"Okay, so I got the Uber for brunch. He should be here soon." George said who was dressed up in a black tank top that sat underneath a black fishnet top, paired with light denim pants that had holes on each side showing off their thighs, wearing black Doc Martens.

"Ugh I can't wait to have mimosas in front of me! It's been a stressful week at work." Dani said who was wearing a plain baby blue tub top, paired with white joggers, with blue and white Nikes.

"I love your outfit!" Gabby complimented as she wore a black tennis skirt with a light purple crop top that was off the shoulders, showing off her small kitten tattoo on her left shoulder, hiding a bit underneath her light purple bralette.

"Thanks but love yours more!" You wore something so simple, a cute dark green, silk, summer dress that you paired with short black heels.

"I think someone's at the door," Bella mentioned, who was wearing a simple short pink dress with flats that had white daisy's sitting on top.

"Oh okay!" You didn't know who it could be, peaking through the peephole to see Melissa. You saw that she tried to call but decided to ignore it. Something must be wrong, you thought when opening the door.

"I'm sorry to bother you and you probably don't want to talk to me but this is important." You could tell the urgency in her voice and the scare in her eyes.

"Come in..." You opened the door wider for her to walk through.

"Why the fuck is she here??" Gabby asked, standing up ready to fight.

"Gabby, hold on," you put your hand up. "What's going on?"

"It's Sarah.. she's pretending to be you...."

Everyone in the room gasped like a Spanish telenovela, couldn't believe she would do that. "What the fuck?? How??" You wondered.

She took in a deep breath before explaining how she dyed her hair, changed her makeup and sent him a message posing as you.

You stood in your spot, couldn't even began to fathom what Melissa was explaining.

"What a bitch!" Dani blurred out.

"What do I do?" You pressed your head against the wall and looked up at the celling. I knew it was too go to be true.

"We have to put it all over social media!" Gabby threw her idea out loud.

"Yes let's do it!" You said jumping up from your seat.

"The Uber is here," George announced.

"Let's get in, eat and get to work when we get there! This is now a defcon one!" Gabby yelled, laughing while everyone made their way out the door.

"Thanks for telling me," you said walking with Melissa to the elevator after locking your front door.

"No problem I feel bad for what happened. I'm truly sorry."

They got into the elevator, took it to the lobby, seeing their Uber waiting for them outside. "Melissa, wanna come with us?" You asked, accepting her apology.

"Really?"

"Yeah, come on!"

...

The second the waiter took the drink order everyone began to discuss the plan, with Gabby taking the lead. "Okay, so we should post her Instagram account on Twitter and say it's her. We'll post our videos along with it as evidence."

"What if crazy fans come after me?" You feared, knowing there are some "fans" who are going to send you death threats.

"First off, your account is private. Two who gives a fuck. The fact Chan is looking for YOU, they can fuck right off," George noted, seeing how serious they were being.

"Yeah but what if they find my job and..."

"Babes, you need to chill. You'll get to be with THE Bang Chan from Stray Kids! Who fuckin' cares about anyone else," Bella said touching your hand, looking deep into your eyes.

You put up a faint smile, nodded your head that you understood.

"Should we post this now?" Melissa asked.

"No, closer to maybe a reasonable time in Korea. Right now everyone should be sleeping, so I say here in a few hours."

"Yes! You're so fucking smart Gabby!" You praised your best friend.

"I'm your fairy Godmother for a reason!" She smiled, waving a invisible wand around.

The waiter dropped off everyone's drinks, "I propose a toast," Gabby said raising her drink in the air. "To Y/n and Chan!"

"To Y/n and Chan!" Everyone cheered, clanking their glasses together.

You took a sip of your drink, praying this all works.

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[xoxmatilda]

chapter nine

word count: 3.5k

There's actually no way in hell I'd be able to do this. He doesn't know why, and he doesn't need to know why. My brain frantically looks for a reason to not go in that helicopter, no matter where it was set to take us, without it sounding like a total lie. As I sought after an excuse, I took note of the excitement in his face, draining as he registered my reaction was not one that he expected. 

I force myself to put on a smile, still not able to think of anything to say.

He grows uncomfortable so he explains, "We're flying around the Grand Canyon tonight before it gets dark."

He waits a beat for me to say something, but I'm still entirely speechless. His arms have fallen back down to his sides at this point and he brings a hand up to his neck, trying to rub out the awkward tension. "Sorry, I should have asked first. You had just mentioned that you used to come here all the time but hadn't been back since you moved. I figured you must have been feeling homesick and I couldn't let this trip go by without you revisiting a place you frequented so much. I didn't want it to feel like all your other visits and thought a helicopter view would be a fun change of pace, a different way to see things. I can cancel it, or reschedule it for me and Mitch to come one day."

His face falls as he turns around to walk to the pilots that were going through their flight checklist in the front. At that exact moment, I felt like the biggest jerk to have ever walked the planet. No one, and I mean no one has ever put so much thought into something for me and yet, my unresolved trauma was about to stand in the way.

Without thinking, I took a step forward after Harry, "Wait–"

He stops in his tracks and turns around to me, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. There's a boy standing in front of me, just trying to do something kind for me, for God knows why. Who am I to stop him?

"I'll go," is all I could get out and I put my best smile on my face to convince him even more. I watch as his eyes light up in excitement.

He grabs my hand and walks me toward the helicopter where we are greeted by two instructors holding headsets. They go through their usual speech about safety and what to do in an emergency, but I couldn't bring myself to listen. I didn't want to hear about the possibility of an emergency. I tuned them out and focused on the noises I did hear in the background. Cars from the highway, dull music from an outdoor concert venue nearby. Anything that would have kept me from spiraling and thinking about my brother. 

The instructors eventually finish their speech and help us put on our headsets. Harry gets in the helicopter first and one of the instructors helps him get harnessed in. I crawl in after and get situated before he helps me. Once buckled we turn our headsets to the appropriate channel so we can hear each other. The pilots come on our channel for a moment and give us their safety speech before returning to their private channel to discuss their flight. I keep my eyes shut the entire time, my hands gripping the straps of my harness as if it was the only guarantee of safety I had.

Harry pulls out his phone and opens his camera app and holds out his arm. I see the both of us in the frame of the phone. Out of habit I smile for the selfie, unable to process what happened. "Say hi to Mitch," he said. 

I watch as he sends the picture in a text message to whom I'm assuming was Mitch but I couldn't read the contact name and I didn't want it to seem like I was snooping.

Without warning, the pilots start the engine and the rotors above us roar to life. I jump slightly in my seat causing Harry to notice. He looks at me with a chuckle, "First time in a helicopter?"

I just nod with my eyes still shut as I could feel the rotors moving faster, and faster and then, we were off the ground. I kept my eyes shut as long as I could until Harry noticed again and tapped my knee trying to reassure me. I look at him to see what he was doing and I'm met with a look of worry. I try to give him a smile but I'm sure it just comes off as me pressing my lips together, almost like a look of disappointment.

I can tell he's worried I'm not going to enjoy the ride or the view and I try my best to make it look like I am interested without looking out the open door. I know if I do, I'd be done for. I settle on looking through the front windshield in front of the pilots and spend most of the time convincing myself we were just in a car, with the windows down and that explained the wind.

Luckily, Harry was also looking out the windshield for a while and was pointing things out that could only be seen from facing forward and not down, so I was able to make little comments here and there to keep his conversation. 

The view of the Grand Canyon was beautiful. The sun setting added to the reds and oranges of the rocks, almost making them glow as the light touched them. I found myself wishing I had my camera with me so I could take a picture to document the view. As I'm staring in awe at the view in front of us, my heart about to beat out of my chest, I felt his hand rest on my knee, this time not a tap.

The sudden touch of his hand sends electricity through my body and I look down as I feel it. Terrible timing however, because I look down at just the right timing to see our helicopter, which was flying pretty low, go over a gorge with what I'm assuming is the Colorado River and unexpectedly made it look like we were much higher up.

Now you've done it, Tilly.

At the realization that we were up so high and flying as fast as we were, I could feel my heart beating against my rib cage, my hands sweat profusely, soaking the fabric of the harness I'm sitting in. My face goes hot, but I'm cold despite my long sleeve and the added layer of the hoodie that was lended to me. I get light headed and I start to see white, my vision getting fuzzy.

"Tilly?" I hear Harry's voice through my headset. I try to look at him, but I don't have control of my body. He takes his hand off my knee and pries mine from the harness to hold it as if he recognizes what's happening to me. He squeezes it gently not wanting to startle me, "Hey, Tilly. Look at me."

I throw my head back and try to open my eyes and look at him but I can feel my heartbeat in my head, pain ringing through it with every thump. My breathing quickens and I lose the ability to attempt to keep it steady. I start wheezing from trying to steady my breaths and deny my body the oxygen it needed for the added blood that my body decided it wanted to start pumping through my body. He lets go of my hand and I feel it on my cheek. He's trying to steady my head, "Open your eyes, look in my eyes."

I muster enough strength to flutter my eyes open in his direction feeling on the verge of unconsciousness. I'm met with his frantic green eyes searching my face for a sign that I'm not about to pass out again on him. His thumb starts running lines on my cheekbone in an attempt to keep me awake, but all it does is makes me want to go to sleep with how gentle it is.

"Tell me what you see," He says.

I feel hoarse now, and too weak to mutter something loud enough in the microphone for him to hear me. For a split moment, my eyes flutter shut and he begins frantically running lines on my cheekbone, "No, no, no. Stay with me, tell me what you see." 

I flick my eyes open a moment trying to fight the overwhelming feeling I have to close them. 

"Green," Is all I could say, referring to the beanie he was wearing.

"What else, it can be anything," He says with urgency. He grabs my hand again with the one that isn't on my cheek.

I swallow in between breaths, "Curls. Rocks. Controls." I breathe out each word between each exaggerated breath I have to take. 

He nods at me to go on, "Harness. Water. Headset."

As I'm listing the first things that come into my vision as it goes in and out my breathing slows just under hyperventilating, making it easier to talk. He removes his hand from my face when he sees I've stabilized some. I still have cold sweats, I'm still dizzy, and I still feel like I could be sick at any given moment, but I no longer feel like I'm fighting to breathe anymore, only like I've ran a race but failed miserably. 

"What are things that you've felt in the last twenty-four hours?" He asks me, squeezing my hand every now and then trying to help ground myself even more.

"Anxiety. Anticipation. Love. Nostalgia." I breathe in and out looking through the front windshield once more.

"Explain them to me," He says calmly with a squeeze of his hand on mine.

"Anticipation about the trip– being in a new place and experiencing... new things with new people. Anxiety about the plane... landing... earlier, and about this helicopter... ride. And the love of friends... who take time to calm my nerves about... said trip," I say once again between breaths, referring to Lily and him. Part of me hopes he doesn't catch on, but then again, part of me does, "Nostalgia about being... back at the Grand Canyon."

Ten minutes after my dramatic episode, the pilots turned us around and we made our way back to the helipad to land. We had to wait for the instructors to unhook us from the harness. As soon as I was free I hopped down as fast as my weak body could take me and laid in the grass. I take in the feeling of the grass on my hands, the smell that it exudes around me. The outdoor concert venue can still be heard off in the distance and the traffic from the highway is quieter now that it's gotten later. I open my eyes and see the red and pink of the sunset ridden sky has faded into a blue with specks of stars trying to outshine the light pollution of the city. The moon is showing off it's glory, still with some slits of pink and orange on the horizon, but the sun is gone.

Canyon Moon. I smile at the term my brother coined for it years ago when he first brought me here. 

'What makes a canyon moon so beautiful is its confidence. It's bigger and shines brighter than any moon in the city. I always thought he was crazy talking about how the moon in the canyon was different from the moon in the city. My naive mind couldn't distinguish the meaning yet because all I had learned from science class was the Earth only had one moon. Boy, do I understand now.

There's footsteps that start to get close to me and then shuffling next to me. I peak one of my eyes open, my chest rising and falling still too fast for my liking. Harry mimics my position in the grass next to me but his eyes are closed. His eyelashes sit just above the rise of his cheeks. His chest peacefully lifts and falls back down with every peaceful breath he takes. He looks like the definition of peace. Like if dictionaries were to have pictures as definitions, this view I have right now would be under the word.

I don't move, and nor does he. Neither of us worried about what the pilots are thinking of us laying in the middle of a grass patch next to the helipad. I close my eyes again, feeling a soft breeze come over me, getting entangled in my hair. While Harry is the definition of peace laying next to me, I am the definition of brokenness, chaos, and instability. However, in this moment, I can feel a slight twinge of peace radiating off him.

A moment later I feel a gaze on me and I open my eyes to find Harry looking at me. He still has concern in his eyes as he searches my face for any answers, but he doesn't ask about what happened. I dare not speak. I've embarrassed myself enough today. He peers at me a moment more before standing up, brushing off the grass from his pants and offering his hand to me.

He helps me from my spot in the grass, my four fingers clasped between his thumb and index finger. Once I'm steady on my feet, I let go of his hand and he accepts, but then grabs it again, this time interlocking our fingers. "Can't have you falling on the way to the car," He smiles softly at me, still dawning a concerned look.

I try to mimic his smile back with what little energy I have left. He pulls me toward the parking lot by the hand. Once the driver catches sight of us, they throw the car in drive and pull up to our location.

We sat in silence the whole way back to the house. I kept my eyes closed, my head against the headrest. Our hands still interlocked in the middle seat between us. Every now and then Harry would absentmindedly draw circles with his thumb. I found myself craving them when he stopped.

Once at the house, we filed out of the car, my side closest to the front door. I shut the car door and Harry appeared at my side from around the car, outstretching his hand to me. I take it, not wanting to put the added energy into maneuvering myself to the door. Harry opens the door and closes it once we're inside. 

"Finally, you're back. I made dinner and it's getting cold," Mitch calls from the kitchen, sounding like he's doing the dishes. 

Harry looks at me as if to ask me what I felt like doing. 

"I'm going to take a shower and call it a night," I say, fighting the exhaustion in my eyes.

He gives me a nod and a half smile trying to fight back the concern from growing on his face. We walk further into the house to the stairs and Mitch comes into view at the kitchen sink. I ascend the first couple steps, allowing my fingers to linger on Harry's as long as possible before finally having to let go as I got farther away. I look at his face one last time and take note of the worry he's no longer able to hide before having to turn around and watch my steps. 

I peek at Mitch in the kitchen before he gets out of sight and he's looking between the two of us with confusion. "Where is she going? What happened? What did I miss?" I hear him ask Harry as I reach the top of the stairs. Harry kept his voice low enough that I couldn't hear his explanation.

Moving to the room at the end of the hall, I dig for clothes to change into before showering. Despite my efforts of finding clean clothes to wear to bed and my hot shower, I felt too cold in anything I had packed and decided on throwing the sweatshirt Harry let me borrow over my underwear before crawling into bed. I channel surf for a while before deciding on some reruns of a sitcom I had never seen since I was sure to pass out any minute from today's events. 

As I feel sleep fill my eyelids, making them heavy, there's a light tap at my door. "Come in."

Harry opens the door wielding a plate of food consisting of a sandwich and some chips. He moves into the room and closes the door behind him. Sitting on the foot of the bed, he slides the plate to me.

"I appreciate it Harry, I do, but I'm not hungry for anything right now."

"You have to eat something. You've had an... eventful day. Even if it's just a couple chips. Plus, Mitch slaved over this sandwich for you, not me, so you kind of have to eat it."

A smile forms on my face at him trying to make light of a heavy situation, and he lets out an exhaled laugh through his nose. I suddenly have a new found appreciation for his ability to be so attentive in emergency situations, but not freak out and want explanations after they've happened.

He stands from the bed and while moving to the door he says, "I'll leave you alone. Goodnight, Tilly."

"No, wait. You can stay and watch tv with me if you want..." My voice faulters at the offer and trails off. A smile appears on his face. He moves back over to the bed and sits down, propping himself up slightly against the headboard but stays above the blankets.

I eat a couple chips to make him happy and then settle into the bed laying on the pillow, my body facing him but my head turned to the tv, still shaking from coming down off the adrenaline rush from earlier. I try my hardest to stiffen my body and make it stop but it just makes it worse, and Harry notices. He moves his arm and pulls me close to him. I stiffen and look up at him to try and fight it, unclear of what he was trying to do.

"Your nervous system is shot, contact with someone will help it relax again, love." He reassures me. I wait a minute, thinking on his words, then relax and move toward him more, putting my head between his torso and his chest. 

We're quiet for a while, his heart beating in my ear keeping me awake. There's a commercial that appears on the tv and Harry takes the opportunity to say something. "I'm not goingto ask you about what triggered it. I'm not going to ask you what happened. But I do want to know one thing." He leaves suspense hanging in the air.

I don't dare turn my head around to look at him and I don't say anything, anxiously awaiting his question. "Earlier, when you were listing feelings you felt recently, you said love."

Silence rang in my ears like an alarm as a I reminder I had to come up with something to say, "That's not a question."

My head jolts a little from him laughing a laugh he couldn't keep down, "What made you feel loved, Tilly?" His voice is soft, almost nonexistent.

My eyes bounce around the room thinking of something to say, "Lily. My roommate. I had doubts about this trip this morning and she put my mind at ease... And you. No one has every cared for me enough to help me stop a panic attack in the middle of having one. No one has been able to do that. Not even myself."

He doesn't respond, instead we both let the tv fill the space, but Harry starts gently scratching my back with his fingertips with the hand that's around my body. "You're still in my jumper," he says more as an observation, but I can hear the smile he's wearing on his lips as he says it.

I don't respond, too tired to formulate a thought. I close my eyes soaking in the feeling of him being next to me and let sleep overcome me. For the first time since my brother's death, I welcome it with open arms.

[miashyperfixations]

JOSHUA BASSETT: THE GOLDEN YEARS TOUR

18.01.2025 @ O2 Institute, Birmingham (1,500 Capacity)

Written Jan 2025

Joshua Bassett is an artist I’ve been a fan of for a long time now. He’s one of the few artists these days that I didn’t find through social media. I first became a fan after seeing him as ‘Ricky Bowen’ in Disney Plus’ show ‘High School Musical: The Musical: The Series’, and since then it’s been a hell of a ride hearing all of the songs he’s released since. He’s an insanely talented songwriter too, with writing credits on all of his songs, (which includes  a debut album, ‘The Golden Years’, 4 EPs, and 5 other singles since 2020), as well as some of his character’s songs on HSMTMTS.

The show opened with fellow American singer-songwriter, Thomas Day. I had never listened to his music before and I was pleasantly surprised. His newest release ‘underwear’ came out the day before the show, and he also played an unreleased song called ‘sleep when we’re dead’ , which the crowd seemed to love. His high energy and constant moving around the stage built up anticipation and energy beautifully. He was the perfect opener for Joshua.

Joshua himself is an incredible musician with even more stunning vocals. The California native started acting from a young age, and this is heavily reflected in his performance, with unrivaled energy bouncing around the stage like the true theatre kid he is, especially in ‘Would ya tell me’.

As with any other concert there were a few songs with dedicated elements. Before the third song of his set, Joshua invited two fans onstage to teach him a line dance that the three of them then performed during the song (‘Circles’), and During ‘different’ Basset walked around the edge of the room’s floor standing area shaking hands and interacting with members of the crowd who wouldn’t usually get that experience.  Many artists, as they grow, lose touch with their fans and only focus on releasing music, but Joshua shows just how much he cares about his fans and wants to keep interaction with them alive - its known that he voluntarily stays behind in between the venue and his tour bus to meet the crowd of fans that gathers after almost every show instead of just walking straight past them with a wave.

Of course, I can’t not mention the drama and speculation surrounding Bassett's career, but at the end of the day, he’s doing what he loves to an audience who loves him for it. He’s very open about the struggles he’s been through, to the point at which certain songs and speeches during the concert almost felt like a group therapy session. His song ‘Lifeline’ centers around making amends with the people you care about, even if you don’t want to  in a beautiful way, because you never really know how much time you or your loved ones have left. Similarly, songs like ‘All in due time’ & ‘Look how far you’ve come’ discuss personal growth and being proud of yourself, no matter the obstacles that may still be in your way.

Having been a fan of Joshua for so many years now, finally seeing him live was everything I dreamed it’d be. I played his ‘Sad Songs In A Hotel Room’ EP quite a lot during a particularly hard time in my life so hearing both ‘Lifeline’ and ‘All in due time’ live was something I’d wanted to experience for a while now, and it didn’t disappoint. The entire tour gives off good vibes & a sense of togetherness I haven’t seen in many crowds before, and seeing how much his songs mean to so many people was an incredible experience.