#kevin with his hair standing on end and face red as he stands between the two snapping something

[knickknacksandallthat]

now all i can think about is matt asking jean if he and kevin have bumped baguettes yet and the chaos that follows

anon, the gift that keeps on giving...Matt's completely inappropriate use of french pastries:

*Jeremy, Jean, and Kevin return from hospital*

MATT: Hey, you guys are back! Great! We have a question for you.

AARON: *sliding hand over face* oh no.

DAN: *pointing finger at Matt* Matthew Donovan Boyd, don't you dare-

MATT: so, I mean, clear this up for us if you can, boys. What exactly are you doing with Kev?

JEREMY: *visibly confused* You mean...other than taking him home from the hospital?

MATT: And?

JEAN: And what?

MATT: Come on, Moreau, don't play dumb. Tell us - are you and Knox bumping baguettes together with him?

JEAN: *deadeyeing matt now* What.

AARON: Jesus fucking Christ, Boyd.

ALLISON: Shush, don't stop them - I'm recording.

MATT: Dude, I'm just saying - are you putting the tang in his tart? The cream in his eclair? The flake in his croissant? The meringue in his macaron? The pain in his au chocolat? The tutti in his frutti?

KEVIN: *brow furrowed as he turns to Jean* Are you suddenly opening a French bakery that I'm unaware of?

JEAN: *handing his coat to Jeremy and rolling up his sleeves* Boyd, in the name of Kevin's honor and justice for all of France, prepare to have your ass kicked.

Part 2 to this ask

[keerysfreckles]

enough for you — MV1

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader

summary: max finds himself at the losing end of a bar fight, and he has no where else to go but your own apartment.

warnings: she/her pronouns, google translated dutch, slight swearing, mentions of blood/injuries

a/n: idk how i feel abt this one..

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

you haven't heard from max in years. the two of you had an awful falling out. years of you being best friends, turned into a budding relationship. only for it to be thrown away when you caught max with another girl in your apartment.

you hated him for it. you still do. since then you haven't spoken a single word to each other, and you were hoping to keep it that way.

nothing changed in your nightly routine as you re-heated left overs from lunch, and put on a classic romcom you found on netflix.

your life definitely changed when you and max stopped talking. charles and carlos stopped going to your apartment. you didn't hang out with lando or pierre as much anymore. most of the grid completely ghosted you, besides checo. he knew how hard it was for you to move on after max, he was there for you every step of the way.

your routine however was interrupted by a loud knock on your apartment door. you paused the movie, just as jane was about to show kevin all 27 bridesmaids dresses.

you look over your appearance quickly in your small hallway mirror before opening the door.

"what the hell are you doing here?" you snap.

max fucking verstappen was on the other side of the doorway. his knuckles dark red, stained with blood. his hair was messy, also containing remnants of blood. as if he wes running his fingers through it on the way here. a small bruise started to form underneath his eye, only going to grow in the next hour.

his shuddered breathing took over as he spoke, "i had no where else to go liefje." darling.

you immediately shook your head, "don't call me that."

all max did was look down, another thing seeming to go wrong for him tonight.

you open the door wider and step to the side, silently letting him in your apartment. all of the memories come flooding back with every step he takes, in the space he used to live.

you ordered him to wait in your bedroom while you went in the opposite direction, torwards your bathroom.

you grabbed everything you could; wipes, bandaids, disinfectant. you quickly went back to the kitchen to grab an ice pack for his growing bruise.

"het spijt me, liefje," i'm sorry darling his voice is raspy when you sit beside him on your bed.

you don't respond at first, thinking of the right words to say. you simply hand him the icepack as you start cleaning his left hand.

after moments of silence, your curiosity gets the best of you. "what happened?" you ask.

his adams apple bobs, before he takes a deep breath. "these guys at the bar i was at were talking about you."

your eyebrows furrorw, "me? why would strangers be talking about me?"

max turns to face you more snd shrugged, "one of them mentioned being on a date with you, and all they could think about was," he pauses. you stop your movements and look max in the eyes, encouraging him to go on. "he kept saying how much of a bang you'd be."

you and max both grimace. you knew what he was reffering to though. you were planning on going on a date later in the week with a guy you met from one of your friends. you make a mental note to yourself to stand up the asshole.

"so why did you get into a fight?" you continue wiping the blood from his knuckles, hearing him hiss before he spoke again.

"i couldn't just sit there while he was talking so badly of you. so i asked to talk to him outside, and i tried defending you. i really did."

you run your fingers over his hand, calming him before he starts to ramble.

he continues, "it was no use though. he obviously won," he sighs, his shoulders dropping.

you still couldn't believe the words that came out of max's mouth. even after years of silence between you two, he proved he would still do anything for you. you couldn't help but let your heart beat for him.

his eyes land on your intertwined hands. "i've missed you liefje." his voice is quiet, and you think you've heard him incorrectly at first.

you chuckle drly. "don't. don't do that max."

he brings his hand away from yours. "what? i can't be honest with you anymore?"

you shake your head for the second time tonight, starting to get tired of max's moodswings again.

you don't know why you let max in again in the first place. in your apartment, and in your heart. maybe you thought he changed, but that wasn't the case.

you throw the supplies down in your bathroom, not caring where they land in the process.

"get out," you storm into your room.

silently, max stands and heads in the direction of your front door.

"glad to know you haven't changed," he mumbles, probably thinking you dont hear him.

"excuse me?"

he turns, right before he was about to leave from your life again.

"you were never one to deal with change. when my feelings started changing about you, you threw me out."

you can't help but laugh, "no, no! that is not what happened. you cheated on me after i told you i wasn't ready to move to monaco with you."

max rolls his eyes, only irritating you more.

you move around him to open the door, "get out," you demand again.

he does as you say, rubbing his hands over his face and sighs.

"i've never stopped loving you," he states, just before you slam the door in his face.

you shake your head once again, but he continues.

"i still care about you, and i know you still care about me. you wouldn't have let me in tonight if you didn't."

"just leave max," the irritation starts making it's way to your throat, making your words tight.

max shakes his head, "i can't leave knowing damn well i want you in my life again."

"what if i don't want you in mine?"

max places his hands on his hips, "we both know that's a lie."

"wha–"

max points behind you, "you still have the tv stand you and i put together right after we started dating."

you're about to tell him to leave again, but he continues.

"in your room, you still had the paintings we made on our third date after we both got drunk. your shoes are still organized by color, thanks to my doing. you still have the ice pack i gave you when you hit your head at my place trying to cheer me up after a bad race."

you're at a loss for words, speechless because of max's confession.

"i still love you liefje, and i don't think i can ever stop." his voice cracks. once you don't answer his shoulders drop again. you watch him finally leave your doorway, walking into the rain that started to drop from dark clouds.

you cover your face, contemplating what you should do. part of you wants to close your door. to let max out of your life once and for all. but the other part of you wants to run to him. to hold him again.

you run out of your apartment, without shoes and without a jacket. you weren't entirely sure what you were doing, or what you were going to say. but you couldn't turn around now, you were already grabbing on his arm.

"you remember those things?"

max is quiet, looking down at you. you wonder what he could be thinking. but right now you can't help but make a fool of yourself.

you start to ramble, as your words come out rushed.

"max you know i can't leave you. i– i just can't. you cross my mind more times than i want to admit. i don't hate you, and i don't want you to leave. sometimes i turn on a race just to know if you're still doing okay. i haven't lived my life properly since you left. and yes max, i know i'm supposed to be mad at you, but truth is i can't."

you finally stop to take a full breath, and you make eye contact with max again. you see the small smirk resting on his face. his now wet hair was causing water droplets to drip down his forehead and onto his nose.

"are you just gonna stand there and make me continue rambling?" you wipe the rain from your eyes.

max shrugs with a playfulness hidden behind his words, "yeah, it's kind of cute seeing you flustered."

a blush rises to your cheeks, at his next words.

"it just makes me want to kiss you more."

within 2 seconds, max's hands cup your cheeks before he connects his lips to yours. you grab onto his wrists gently, stabilizing yourself. you've missed his lips more than you want to admit. the softness of his lips is contradicting to your own chapped ones.

you move your hands to his hair, gripping at the short strands towards the back of his neck. a beautiful throaty groan fills your mouth, and god you've never wanted to be closer to him than you are right now.

[secretlittlerandezvous]

Caught In The Act - Alex Laferriere

Summary: Alex’s teammates suspect he’s hiding a new relationship after noticing his unusual happiness.

Word: 675

Alex had always been the quiet type, the kind of guy who flew under the radar when it came to anything off the ice. Alex wasn��t exactly secretive, but he valued his privacy. Recently, though, his teammates couldn’t ignore that something was different about him.

“Alright, what’s up with Laf?” Kevin asked one day as they hanged out in the locker room after practice. “He’s been smiling like he won the lottery, and I’ve seen him check his phone at least five times today.”

“I’ve been saying it for weeks,” Quinton Byfield chimed in. “He’s seeing someone.”

“Definitely,” Adrian agreed, leaning back against the bench. “Did you see him after practice yesterday? He was humming.”

“Humming?” Brandt’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay, now I’m curious.”

The group laughed, but from that moment on, Alex became their main target of playful investigation. They started watching him like hawks trying to catch him slipping out of the arena, glancing at his phone, or acting suspicious in any way. But Alex wasn’t giving anything away, and his tight-lipped attitude only made them more determined.

The break finally came one Friday night when the team decided to grab dinner at a new restaurant everyone was talking about. They chose a large table in the back, the usual banter and laughter filling the air as they waited for their food.

“Man, Laf’s missing out,” Adrian said, taking a sip of his drink.

“He said he had plans,” Quinton replied, narrowing his eyes. “Pretty convenient excuse, huh?”

Kevin smirked. “He’s definitely on a date.”

“Guys,” Brandt interrupted suddenly, his voice low and urgent. “Look over there.”

All heads turned to where Brandt was pointing. There, in a booth near the window, sat Alex. His face was lit up with a rare smile, and he was leaning toward a girl across the table. The girl was laughing at something he said.

“No way,” Jordan muttered, sitting up straighter. “Is that Laf?”

“Busted,” Adrian said with a grin.

The group stared as Alex reached across the table, brushing a stray piece of hair behind Y/n’s ear. She blushed, her hand resting on the table near his, and it was clear from the way they looked at each other that this wasn’t just some casual hangout.

Quinton was the first to react, standing up and waving dramatically. “Hey, Laf!” he called across the restaurant.

Alex froze mid-sentence, his head snapping toward the sound of Quinton’s voice. His eyes widened in horror as he saw the entire table of his teammates grinning and waving at him.

“Oh no,” Alex muttered under his breath, sinking a little lower in his seat.

Y/n, confused, turned to look at what was happening. “What’s going on?”

Alex let out a resigned sigh. “Those are my teammates,” he said, nodding toward the group.

Her eyes widened slightly before a laugh escaped her. “Well, they seem fun.”

“That’s one word for it,” Alex replied.

Adrian, Kevin, and Brandt were all gesturing for Alex to come over, but Alex shook his head firmly. This only made them laugh harder, and they started clapping loudly, much to the amusement of the others at the restaurant.

“Well, I guess the secret’s out,” Alex said with a small smile, turning back to Y/n.

“You were keeping me a secret?” she teased, though her tone was lighthearted.

“Only because they’re impossible,” Alex assured her. “And now I’ll never hear the end of it.”

From the other table, Quinton cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “We love her already, Laf!”

Alex groaned, burying his face in his hands as Y/n’s face turned red from embarrassment. “They’re never going to stop, are they?” she asked.

“Not a chance,” Alex admitted.

The rest of the team laughed as they got up to leave, teasing Alex the whole way out.

As Alex and Y/n finished their meal, the easy affection between them was undeniable, and Alex knew that no matter how much his teammates poked fun at him, he wouldn’t trade the peace he found with her for anything.

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 12 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: When Anna noticed that a new poem by her favorite, amateur writer had been posted, she was afraid to read the finality in his tone. But Bob always managed to surprise her. And maybe she could find a way to surprise Kevin, too.

Warnings: Angst, Kevin is a dick, adult language, 18+

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

After that, it was radio silence. Anna didn't reach out to Bob, and he didn't try to either. He went to the Hard Deck on Friday night and lasted about an hour before excusing himself. Nobody asked him why he was bailing after one ginger ale and a single cup of peanuts, and that was enough to tell him that everyone knew. Everyone knew he slept with Anna. Everyone knew she was married. Everyone knew that they shouldn't talk about it in front of him for fear that the ladies would snap their necks. Even Nat was being very kind and considerate which wasn't really like her at all. 

When Bob was halfway to the door, he felt a small hand curl around the back of his bicep. "I'll see you tomorrow night for D&D?"

He nodded down at Jessica's hopeful face. "Yeah. I can pick you up if you want."

Her face brightened a little bit. "I'll text you in the morning." He turned to walk out, and her hand slid down his arm. "Hey, Bob? Don't give up hope on her, okay?"

He didn't know how to respond, so he just kept walking. He had no idea what to say or what to think. It wasn't like he could stop loving someone overnight. He didn't really want to either. Anna's life was quite frankly messier than he had ever expected. She did a pretty good job of hiding it from everyone, and it seemed like she would have continued down that path if they didn't have sex. And that was the other issue; it wasn't just sex to Bob. Anna knew about the things he tried to hide himself, and she seemed to want him in that moment anyway. 

Her words from the previous night made him ache. 

'You're perfect. You're Sky Writing. You're the handsome man from the bookstore who smells like tea and soap. You're Bob, the guy my friends knew I would fall in love with as soon as I met them.'

If that meant she was in love with him or that she thought she could be someday, then he was afraid to walk away from her. But now he was terrified of getting hurt or somehow hurting Anna like Kevin had. Part of him believed if he could just see Anna's husband with his own eyes, confirm that he was exactly the way she described him, then he might be able accept that she just needed time to settle her divorce and to heal. If that was the case, he wanted to make it work. 

In the meantime, when he got home, he ended up standing in his living room, staring at his bookshelf before going upstairs and staring at his bed. He could still picture her red hair all spread out for him. He could still feel it between his fingers as the silky strands slid along his palm. He could taste her on his tongue. He could hear her telling him what she wanted.

Bob picked up his computer and slipped under the covers, knowing he wasn't going to be able to sleep right now.

----------------------------

It had been there since early Saturday morning. A new one. Anna desperately wanted to read it and memorize it like she had the others, but she was afraid to face the finality. Her email alert mocked her every time she looked at it.

Sky Writing has posted a new, original work! Click the link below to check out the subscriber that you follow!

Bob wrote a new poem, and she didn't think she could handle reading exactly how he viewed her now. He'd never be like Kevin, openly belittling her or putting her down, but she knew the shiny packaging had been removed now, and he saw what was really inside. Just a mess of a human. She put off reading it and put off reading it, but when she was sitting at her desk at work on Monday, she made herself decide between reading the new poem or calling Kevin. After a fairly short debate, she decided to read the poem. It was probably so bad, calling Kevin later wouldn't even feel painful in comparison. 

She tapped on the link in her email and was taken to something so unexpected, she gasped as she read it.

There is empty space on my bookshelf,

The one I bought with you in mind.

I didn't know it was for you at the time,

But one night made it obvious,

Before an instance took it.

Reality surpassed intention today.

Your worn favorites and mine pristine,

Should mingle and mix,

Genre forgotten.

Dog eared pages became so endearing.

But I'll never see them on my shelf,

Unless you come back and stay this time.

The format was different from what he usually wrote, but it was so obviously Sky Writing. So obviously Bob. So obviously about her. And he didn't sound angry. Could he possibly miss her after everything she did and said?

She jumped when her phone vibrated on her desk, and for a split second, she believed it could be Bob. Her heart beat faster with anticipation, but it was from somebody else.

Jessica Reed: If you don't come down to this weird tree right now, we're going to come up and get you.

Anna had lost track of time. It was after noon now. She knew that her friends were trying to make sure she was holding herself together after she refused to go to the Hard Deck over the weekend. How could she continue to go somewhere that Bob had the rights to first? It wasn't until she read his Sky Writing poem that she thought perhaps there was a chance he might not only be okay with her presence but perhaps even miss her like she missed him.

With her sad little lunch in hand, she dragged herself down to the quad, trying to decide when was the best time to call Kevin. She was tired of going through lawyers who couldn't seem to get him to budge, and each ninety day window just ate away at more of her soul. She should have been so much more careful with her writing when she had the opportunity, and now he'd completely locked her out of being able to access it. 

No, she was going to have to beg him, plead with him, anything it took to get what she wanted without giving away where she'd moved. Maybe if he agreed to let her have her manuscript, one of her friends would let her borrow money for a flight back to New Jersey to retrieve it. She was getting ahead of herself, but she couldn't help it. She needed to at least get this one thing.

"There she is!"

Anna looked up to see her friends directly in front of her on the bench by the tree, and the fact that they both looked happy to see her made her heart ache. "Hi," she said softly as she sat down between them when they both scooted over.

"Hummus?" her friend asked, passing along a container while she bit into her perfect looking chicken salad sandwich on artisan bread. Anna accepted a few bites of Bradley's gourmet snack, because she was absolutely starving today.

"Thanks," she murmured, and she let herself sink into the background a little bit as the two other women continued the conversation they'd been having. Now that she was down here with his friends, she couldn't stop thinking about Bob again. His soft hair and his kind eyes. The way he always paid attention to her when she was talking. How good he made her feel.

She listened to her friends argue about alumni weekend for a few minutes before she finally cut them off to ask, "Has Bob said anything about me?" Both of them looked at her, and she quickly added, "I can't stop thinking about him."

Jessica smiled softly and said, "Not a word, but I've never seen him look so sad. And I mean that in a good way, because although I know he's confused and hurt, I'm pretty sure he just misses you."

"But," the other woman quickly cut in, "the most important thing right now is making sure you take care of yourself. Even if you are in love with Bob."

"Oh!" Jessica exclaimed. "I have an idea! We could just kill Kevin!"

Anna snorted in spite of herself. "That would actually solve a lot of my problems. Maybe even all of them."

"Only one problem with that," Advanced Calculus said blandly. "You're not a killer, Jessica."

"I could kill someone," Jessica muttered under her breath, and truly Anna almost laughed, because Jessica Reed was one of the gentlest people she'd ever met. The most violent thing about her was her Dungeons & Dragons character. "I could at least probably slap him."

"He wouldn't know what hit him," Anna said, and all three women erupted into laughter. And it felt so strange to feel genuine happiness, even if it only lasted for a few seconds, that Anna almost started crying. As their amusement died down, she asked her friends, "Do you think.... Bob would respond if I texted him?"

Jessica squeaked, and then both women said, "Yes."

---------------------------

Bob was back to square one. Back at the bookstore. He was fifteen minutes early. He was already looking through the Classics. He was about to meet up with Anna. He was nervous.

Nat scoffed when he told her where he was going, and he truly did appreciate that his friend wanted him to proceed with caution, but she just didn't understand how Anna made him feel. Being friends with her after sleeping together a total of one time might kill him, but he knew that was probably all he could have now.

It was almost like he could sense that she was there. He looked up from the Shakespeare volume in his hand, and he saw her walk in the door. As he got closer to the loft railing, he saw her glance up and meet his eyes like it was some depraved version of Romeo and Juliet. She mouthed the word Hi before she headed for the stairs, and in less than a minute, she was standing right in front of him. 

Anna looked nervous, but everything else was just the same. Those perfect freckles decorated her face. Her brown eyes were bright. Her pretty hair was in a messy braid. He saw her burgundy nail polish as she fidgeted with her denim jacket. He wanted to know if she still thought he was the kind of person she could love. He wanted to ask her if her husband was any closer to signing papers. Instead he said, "I was surprised when you texted me."

Her eyes went wide, and he wished he could shove his foot in his mouth as she started looking around anywhere but at his face. "I need some books for my feminist literature course, and I just thought maybe you'd like more books for your bookshelf."

Had she read his newest poem? It was a sloppy one that he wrote late on Friday night and posted on a whim. She could have deleted her account by now or vowed never to read anything else by Sky Writing. But that didn't stop the poem from being about her.

"I do need some more books for my shelves," he replied, and her eyes finally settled on his again. "And you don't have to be nervous around me. I know you're dealing with a lot, and I promise I won't touch you or anything."

Now she just looked sad and distraught, but she nodded and turned down the very aisle where they first met. Bob had to fight to keep a few feet of space between them as she said, "I'm looking for Mary Wollstonecraft, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, and Elizabeth Cady Stanton."

They worked their way slowly up and back down each aisle, falling into a natural conversation in spite of the awkwardness between them. In spite of the way Bob couldn't keep himself from looking at her as she ran her fingers along the spines. When she wanted something that was on a top shelf, he reached it down for her. When her hands got full, he offered his up for her use. And to his delight and also sadness, she kept recommending books for him along the way. That's how he ended up with Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day as well as The Importance of Being Earnest in his hand when she led the way downstairs to pay.

Bob cleared his throat as Anna reached into her pocket for some cash. "I can get them."

Her brown eyes snapped up to meet his, and her cheeks turned pink. He already knew what Kevin did, and while he didn't think there was any harm in saying it, he could tell that she at least had her pride intact. "The college is going to reimburse me," she said firmly before handing forty dollars across the counter.

"Right," Bob said before paying for his own books. When they walked out into the fading sunlight, he looked down into her pretty face. "Will you let me drive you home? Not because I think I need to, but because I want to?"

She seemed at war with herself as she looked across the street and pressed her lips together. But her eyes fluttered closed and she said, "I would really appreciate that."

The interior of his truck was quiet the whole way as their books sat on the seat between them. Only the soft hum of the radio helped Bob hold his thoughts at bay. The ride wasn't too long, and when they were most of the way there, Anna finally spoke. 

"I'm going to deal with my shit. I promise."

Unsure exactly how he should respond, Bob simply said, "Okay."

When he pulled up in front of her building, he turned toward her, intending to ask if she wanted him to walk her up, but she was gathering her books together as she said, "I don't know how you feel about me now. I don't know if you could want me again. But I am going to deal with Kevin. I am going to fix my life. Because I want to move on. I need to." When he was so flustered that he didn't immediately respond, Anna said, "You know where to find me. Thanks for the ride."

He watched her run up the sidewalk before struggling to open the door with her arms full, and then she ducked inside when he finally figured out what he wanted to say. "I'll find you."

-------------------------------

If Anna even had a hope or a prayer at a chance with Bob ever again, she needed to work up the nerve. A real chance with him now that he knew all about her disastrous marriage was what she wanted, but she needed to sort Kevin out first. 

As far as she could tell, everything came down to two options: keep her freedom by giving Kevin ownership of her manuscript, or keep her self worth by fighting until she didn't have anything left to give up. And both of them sounded terrifying. The whole weekend passed where she tried so many times to call him. She took her phone out again and again, let her thumb hover over her husband's phone number, and then chickened out. His voice was like a distant memory, and she didn't want to bring it back to the forefront of her mind. He hadn't reached out one time since she up and left without telling him where she was going, and she was afraid to let him know where she was now.

The worst part was, he would know immediately why she was calling. He knew that he had the one thing she wanted. He cut off her access to the cloud files where she should have been able to piece her writing back together. It would have been time consuming, but she would have been all too happy to do it. She should have known better than to let him have so much of her life and so many of her resources in only his name, but there was a time when she trusted him. That was the part that made her so sick. She had trusted her husband, and now look where it got her.

A shiver went through her body as she woke up for work too early on Monday morning. She wanted Kevin's computer where everything was saved. She wanted access to the cloud. She didn't want a damn penny from him otherwise. She was aggressively brushing her teeth, wishing she had more to eat than a granola bar when she spit out her toothpaste and rinsed her mouth.

She hated him. She hated him so much, she was going to call him right now. Without a backward glance, she marched over to where her phone was charging and pulled the cable out. Before she could even think about exactly what she was going to say, she tapped on his stupid name.

Anna was breathing fast and deep, her heart pounding in her ears when she heard his voice for the first time in so many months.

"Anna?" he asked, her whole body cringing after just one word. His voice was scratchy as if she had woken him up, but it was 9:16 in New Jersey. He should be on his way to work if not there already.

"Kevin," she snapped, gripping her phone tighter. She was getting angrier by the second as she listened to him yawn while she looked around her tiny apartment.

His tone was condescending as he said, "Of course you'd call me at six in the fucking morning after I haven't hear a word from you except through a lawyer since July. What the hell do you want?"

She couldn't do this. She couldn't talk to him. While she felt strong a few minutes ago, her resolve was already crumbling. She wanted to tell him that he knew damn well what she wanted, but then she zeroed in on what he said. "What do you mean it's six in the morning? It's after nine."

His voice was suddenly loud and harsh. "I meant exactly what I said. I'm in California for a medical convention. Now get to the point of your call."

Her mouth felt like sandpaper as she carefully put her phone on speaker. She started searching for Neurological conventions in California while she told him, "I just want my manuscript. Please, Kevin. That's all I want, and then you can be rid of me."

The bite was gone from his voice, replaced by a lazy tone, and he spoke to her as if she were a very simple child. "It's not going to happen, Anna. I didn't cut off access to it for no reason. It's worth money. You can pay me for it, or you can kiss it goodbye. I might even publish it myself."

She was gasping for air as she scrolled through her search results, coming up with a conference in Carlsbad that was starting today. As the page loaded, she swallowed and told him, "I'll sue you if you do." But even she knew she was full of shit.

"What what money, Anna? I'm surprised you can still afford your lawyers. I don't even want to know what you're doing to make ends meet right now."

Then she saw it. She saw his name. He was a keynote speaker at the National Neurological Physicians Association conference. He was less than an hour away. She sank down to her knees in surprise and fear. Her mind was swirling with information and ideas, and she couldn't even comprehend what Kevin was saying now.

"What?" she gasped.

"I said come up with some money for me, or I'm not signing shit." Then he ended the call as her hands started shaking. She dropped her phone onto her bed. He was in Carlsbad. Maybe she could surprise him. Maybe she could talk him into it easier in person.

Anna had to run to the bathroom to be sick, but her mind was made up. Once she cleaned herself up again, she tearfully made the decision to cancel her morning classes via email, and then she started grabbing her purse and her essentials. She folded up the newest copy of the divorce paperwork her lawyer had emailed to her and tucked it away. Then she ran for the bus stop, nearly tripping several times as she read through the schedule of speakers who were at the conference this week on her phone. If she caught a bus within the next fifteen minutes, she might make it in time to see Kevin right before he gave his welcome speech.

---------------------------

We will meet Kevin in the next chapter. Now is an acceptable time to start sharpening your knives. Bob, please don't give up on Anna. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 13

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[femme4ngel]

If your requests are open could you write Erling Haaland x hairstylist reader

Reader making a video of washing his hair (in the salon) and he tries moving his head so she pulls him by the hair back. Maybe in the background of the video you hear her voice "just a reminder i.do.not do this to my clients I'm kinda dating him and he did annoy me a lot this weekend"

-🍷

i kinda took it to a different direction im sorry 😭hope u still like it tho mwah

~ erling haaland x hairdresser reader

it was media day, everyone running around the place, photographers, makeup artists and the players of course. you yawned as you sat down for a second, you just did half of the teams hair, you felt exhausted. it took you a good two hours, styling everyone, working together with the cameramen, the makeup artists, it was a mess. ( plus jack kept complaining about the amount of gel you used.. in the end you let him drench his hair in it just so he would leave your chair) you yawn in the chair, rubbing your eyes, trying to get some strength into yourself when out of nowhere you feel hands on your shoulders. you know its him without looking around, you can smell his cologne and the way his finger’s slowly massage your back is way too familiar.

“ are you tired baby?”- he asks, leaning close, his chest pressing against your back, his lips dangerously close to your neck. you get goosebumps from his presence, how tall and huge he is, how he stands behind you.

“mhm..”- you stand up from your chair, facing him with a blush and a smile on your face.

“ is it your turn to get your hair done or are you just trying to distract me erling?”

“its my turn promise!” - he looks at you shocked, his brows furrowed, why would you assume he’s there to mess around with you?.. distracting you? oh he never would do such thing..

you hum as a response and push him down into the chair. his hair is beautiful but its getting so weak from him tying it up all the time.. you brush it out, running your fingers through it.

“ erling. i have a crazy idea.”- you look at him in the mirror, with a huge grin.

“ oh oh. and what’s your idea”?- he looks at you in the mirror, his eyes sparkling from the curiosity.

“ will you let me braid your hair? you know like i did on friday, but i would put some hair oil in it now.. and and it will look so good trust me! i think it will go with the new jersey so much more than a bun..! you look so good in that jersey….”

you can see it on his face that you already convinced him, he loves wearing his hair in braids, and he trusts you with it totally. ( plus that comment of him looking good in the new jersey gave him such an ego boost, he wouldn’t let you do anything else with his hair) he nods enthusiastically, staring at you and your eyes, he’s mesmerized.

“mhm okay braids it is” - you say, leaning closer to him, acting like your brushing through his locks, and quickly pressing a kiss on his cheek. he lights up, his face turning bright red. you smile coyly to yourself, you love the effect you have on him. you get back to his hair, brushing it again, then grabbing some hair ties as you get to braiding. you decide on two strands of dutch styled braids and everything is going smoothly and well until erling starts hissing.

“ouch ouch, y/n your hurting mee, you keep pulling on my scalp” - he complains, sulking in the chair.

“ i’m not pulling! just tilt your head back more!”- to these demands ( the himbo he is) he manages to tilt his head forwards, getting completely out of your hands.

“ oh god”- u sigh, taking his head into your hands and directing him towards the angle you need him in.

“ oh damn, i think my hair is actually fine as it is”- you hear as kevin enters the room, his snarky comment making you blush and the camera crew bust out laughing.

your embarrassed, you almost forgot how many people and cameras are around you.

“ i didn’t.. its okay, trust me he’s the only one getting rough treatment, cuz he doesn’t know the difference between forward and backwards!”- your explanation gets erling to spin around in the chair, looking at you with his mouth open.

“ no i know! i was just escaping you and your hair pulling! i swear i know the difference! - he looks around upset, hoping that he convinced the crew of his knowledge of positions.

“mhm okay okay sure.. whatever please lay back now i have to do your hair”- you roll your eyes, softly pushing him back into the chair, ignoring the giggling around the room.

(…)

his hair of course ends up gorgeous, and it holds together so nicely (thanks to your talent) that he wears his hair in the braids at tomorrow’s training.

[tavyliasin]

The Scent of Cinnamon 1 - The Cambion, The Gift, and The Contract

Raphael has a new home, but the halls are remarkably empty. Mephistopheles has seen fit to send him a gift, though as with all things in the Hells, nothing is ever quite so simple... Meanwhile, an incubus with no name stands in front of a portal, ready to take the first step in the only plan they have left. One that will either secure their future or seal their fate... 4,301 Words - AO3 Link Click Here

--- The Scent of Cinnamon is a prequel series focusing on Raphael and Haarlep from the moment they meet, continuing through various events up to the beginning of Baldur's Gate 3. Summary: Raphael and the incubus meet for the first time, and the specifics of a contract are worked out between the pair. Pairing: Raphael/Haarlep SPICE Rating: 0.5/5  Content Warnings: Mild power play. There's not a lot of spice in this one, it's the following chapters that will raise that bar~

Spoilers Vague House of Hope and Act 3, but most of this series is focused on what came before. Canon Compliance Most of this is being pulled together from scraps and hints in the game and from the lore of D&D in general. Haarlep's initial physical appearance is based on incubus/succubus lore in the sourcebooks - mostly human features on their bodies, human ranges of skin tones, but they still have wings and tails, and shorter horns than cambions or tieflings have. I also go with a personal HC that Haarlep can only shift into the body of someone they have a deal with. Other Notes An image of a concept for Haarlep's original appearance will be added at the end of the fic, so keep an eye out for that~

Song Pairing (Click the title to open spotify) Play Dirty by Kevin McAllister, [SEABELL] "Do you wanna put up a fight? Or do you wanna get out alive? Everybody is picking a side And this can only end one way

Would you get the Devil this dance? Would you be a part of his plans? Now you got some blood on your hands Well, this can only end one way

If you wanna go, this is how it goes If you wanna roll, heads are gonna roll If you wanna play, we can play all day But we play, play dirty, play dirty"

--- FULL CHAPTER BELOW THE CUT --- ---

The Cambion, The Gift, and The Contract

Fine leather boots paced across stone floors, the click of heels echoing around the halls of the largely empty mansion that floated through Avernus. It was a start. A place of his own, somewhere to work with his own contracts and plans. The owner of the boots was a cambion, son of Mephistopheles, and already a powerful fiend in his own right. Raphael, if you were to ask a mortal, looked like a human in his mid 20s. Chestnut hair was swept back neatly from his brow, the ends curling a little just below his shoulders. His brown eyes were deep set but sparkled with ideas, face clean shaven and expression darkening by the moment. Had he taken his other form, huge red wings would stretch above him, a long tail slapping the floor in irritation behind him, and soft brown eyes would instead blaze with hellfire. His whole form would be larger, and his skin would be a deep crimson, ridges across his well defined muscles more reminiscent of his demonic heritage than the human half. However, it was often easier to remain in the guise of a human man. Aside from not having to deal with the physical logistics of wings, horns, and a tail, potential clients found him to be more trustworthy, and the reveal of his demonic guise was often another powerful tool of intimidation and persuasion. Occasionally, some found him to be seductive, but he tired of trying to please people he had no interest in. There were no fiends in all the hells he could trust to be intimate with, and mortals were so terribly boring, weak, and short-lived. No, they were far better as tools, pawns in his grander designs, so sex was a last resort to seal a particularly irritating deal. This might have been seen as unusual in the hells, for any fiend to have no attraction or desire to act upon their libido, but Raphael did not care. He could satisfy himself should the need arise, and it was safer not to let anyone in to his abode. Not until he had built up his loyal following. 

Unfortunately, so far he only had a couple of apprenticed Warlocks, and one or two debtors scrubbing his floors. And now he had to greet a stranger. The letter had specified a “gift”. Knowing Mephistopheles, this would not be the kind of gift that came with a single catch, but more an entire shoal of red herrings to sift through to find which specific catch he needed to be concerned about.

—

A young fiend stood before a glimmering doorway, uncertain of when precisely they were meant to cross the threshold. They were dressed in a black silk outfit that gave them an appearance of masculine androgyny. Dark tan skin and bright green eyes might have looked human, if it weren’t for the 4 short horns protruding from their brow, slightly parting black hair that cascaded down their back and over their shoulders almost blending with the silks they wore. The other tells of their demonic nature were more obvious, however. Huge wings with blackened edges, claws at the tip, coloured in sunset hues of red and gold stretched out behind them, quivering with nervous anticipation. A long tail with an arrow-tip end pawed at the ground behind them, kicking up a little infernal ash. All they carried was the clothing they wore and the instructions they had been given. A simple enough task, and they were hardly inexperienced, but their first meetings were usually within a dream. Subtly watching their target, learning their desires and their fears, finding every intimate secret they hid in their subconscious before they would ever appear before them physically. They sighed. They didn’t even have a name to bring with them. Whatever it was had been taken, a simple exchange for a promised reward. “Let him name you,” the instructions had been clear, “let him do as he wishes. Get close, learn all you can, and deliver it back to me. You are no fool, incubus, and neither is he. But play the game well, and you will have the life of your dreams in the end. A home all of your own, whatever meals you desire delivered to your door, complete power over the domain I shall grant you.” It was tempting. It would be tempting to any incubus or succubus. They also couldn’t deny a small amount of pride at having been chosen. It sounded like the advances of succubi had already been rejected, so they relished the thought of a challenge. Besides, the son of Mephistopheles was hardly without any power of his own. They took a deep breath, steeling their nerves before they stepped through the portal. 

—

Raphael sat back on his chair, tilting it so the front legs were no longer on the floor, boots on the edge of his desk as he read through pages of another contract. Etiquette might demand he stand to greet the arrival, due any moment now, but Raphael was not one to heed any demands but his own.

He didn’t look up when the familiar electricity of the magic swirled in the air, nor did he pay attention to the polite cough from the guest.

“You’re late.” He lied, thumbing through the pages and moving one to the front, still not looking up from the paper.

“And you’re human.” The visitor stated, all too bluntly for Raphael’s liking. “I was told to expect a cambion, Raphael. Does the master of the house not see fit to handle his own household?”

The cambion bristled. His brow darkened a little, though only one watching very closely would notice the subtle change. “You would do well to remember at least a modicum of respect when addressing your new master, regardless what form he might appear in. Are all gifts supposed to be so rude when accepting hospitality?”

“Hah! What hospitality? There’s barely a thing here, and I am barefoot upon your floor. Gift, indeed, that you do not even look upon me let alone deign to unwrap me.” They were becoming no more humble. If anything, they were becoming more bold by the moment.

The attitude was finally reaching Raphael’s limit. He looked up from the papers to see who would have the audacity to address him so.

For a moment, his thumb slipped, one of the pages almost dropping from the stack as he took in the tall and slender form of the nameless incubus. He quickly regained his composure, but not before they had noticed.

The cambion put his feet on the floor and straightened up the papers, putting them in a neat stack on the table. He stood, walking towards the invited invader in his home, stalking around them to observe and assess them.

“I’m not a piece of meat, Raphael.” They stood still nonetheless, allowing him to pace and take in all of their form. They flexed their wings and tail to put on more of a show. “Do you like what you see?~”

“Passable.” The cambion grunted, the highest praise he had given any attempt yet. “And good you finally recognise your master’s name. So, why are you here?”

“You know that much. Your dear father sent me. You are well aware that many of your kind take ours as advisors, partners in pleasure, or allies for whatever purposes you might have for our abilities.” The incubus grinned, the hint of slightly sharpened teeth glinting in the light as they looked down on the smaller human form of their supposed master.

“You’re a spy.” Raphael said simply.

“Obviously.” They replied, pleased that they were not being expected to work for a complete fool. “Do you wish to refuse me? Send me back?”

“Honesty is a commodity that few of your kind trade in. You may stay. However, ground rules must be set.” He turned to walk away, beckoning for them to follow. “Come.”

“Already?” The incubus laughed at their own humour. “It takes more than that, Raphael.”

The cambion bristled at his name being used so casually, but remembered a key point. “Name. What is it?”

“I don’t have one, not until you choose one for me. Spiteful of your father to take my identity, but at least I kept my good looks.” The incubus brushed off the lingering insult of what they’d had to trade for the opportunity. It would be worth it, eventually.

“Then I should know you first, incubus. I shall choose a name befitting your station.” He continued to lead the way through the halls, keeping a few steps ahead of the honest spy who was taking note of every crack in the walls.  

—

The incubus watched Raphael carefully. Every movement, every time his gait shifted to avoid stepping on a looser stone. Their bare feet felt uncomfortable on the floor, but it mattered little.

They noticed the silence in the halls, only one terrified half elf dressed in rags scurried away as they passed by, busying themselves cleaning some furniture in a side room. There was a lingering scent of cherry that drifted from the cambion ahead, though that was the only note of perfume they detected. Somehow, something so simple hardly seemed fitting.

The door to the bedchamber was large, heavy, and sealed with a magical lock. A simple spell had it opening before the master of the house, who gestured for them to enter.

“There, take a seat.” He indicated a pair of chairs near the balcony on the far side of a huge four poster bed, heavy red velvet drapes skirting the floor, a deep contrast against ebony silk sheets.

They ignored the suggestion of the chairs entirely, and instead took a seat on the edge of the bed, their tail snaking out behind them to smooth over the sheets. “Not bad, I’ve been in softer.”

“That is not for your benefit.” Raphael stood a little taller, crossing his arms and glaring invisible flames towards defiant green eyes. 

“Then for yours? You are aware of my nature as an incubus, if you are to indulge in my many pleasures, I am not one to receive.” They watched his reaction, wings folding carefully inwards to soften the challenge of the statement.

“We shall see. I have yet to decide on that matter.” The incubus smirked at that reply, it was not a no . Raphael continued regardless. “What are your abilities?”

“Aside from near infinite pleasure? I can take the form of any who have made a contract with me.” They shifted now with a spell, appearing first as an elven woman with flowing ginger hair and freckles across her cheeks. The next moment the magical fire enveloped them they became a dwarven man with a long braided beard and dark eyes below a heavy set brow. The third form they took was a dragonborn with sparkling iridescent scales. “This one was a particular favourite, a beautiful rarity. So I may become anyone you wish me to be, so long as I have laid with them.”

“Any form? Including another fiend?” Raphael arched an eyebrow, fingertip tapping against his jaw as he considered the options.

“Another devil taken your fancy?” The incubus laughed, remaining in the guise of the dragonborn for now. “Of my many forms I have not added a fiend, yet…but were I to take yours, there would be some benefits.”

“Benefits? It seems more like a remarkably unpleasant experience from start to finish.” Despite his words, he appeared to be waiting to hear more.

“Any time I take on the body of someone I have slept with,” they ran a claw down their chest, hand drifting beneath their robes momentarily, “they feel it when their form is used. Echoes of pleasure even across planes, though more intense the closer they are. If they were in the room right now, they would feel the sensation of their own hand on their body.”

“So, enhanced pleasure, and a disguise?” Raphael took a longer moment to consider it. “I can see a use for this, incubus.”

“Wait, you actually wish to deal with me yourself?” Their bravado finally slipped away in surprise, transforming back to their original body. “You would give me access to your form, control over your pleasure?”

“Must you be so vulgar about it? This could work to our advantage. Depending…” Raphael stepped forwards. “Tell me, spy, what were you offered?” “Simple. My own domain, power over it, and whatever delicious specimens I wish to devour.” They held his gaze, even as he blocked the light behind him. “I enjoy sex as much as I am sustained by it as my meal. I have known hunger, Raphael, and I have known powerlessness. I have no desire to become intimate with either again.” “So you want power, pleasure, and a range of flavours to sample? That is as cheap as you are to trade your identity, your entire being, devoting centuries to espionage for such pittance?” He was treading a line in his voice between anger and disappointment. The incubus’s tail began to flick with annoyance. “There was hardly anything to trade. What’s in a name, anyway? And a few centuries in the span of immortality, that’s nothing. An easy job, made all the simpler by the particular subject. You don’t even object to my presence or motivations… What do you desire, Raphael?” They prodded back with their question, working out how the pieces would fit together.

“Perhaps not so different, incubus. Power would be a simplification, but an accurate one. First I will expand my influence here, then across the rest of Avernus.” He raised his hand, infernal fire wrapping around him in an instant, transforming him into his more devilish physique. His horns curved above him, crowning his chestnut hair, wings spreading like a wide and regal cloak behind him in the same deep red as his skin. He had grown taller, marginally more muscular, and his own tail swished behind him. Fiery eyes regarded his guest with a new intensity. “Quite simply, I shall become an Archduke. The Archduke. The nine hells are full of infighting and imbeciles, one hand should have a tight grip upon them all. And that hand will be mine.”

The incubus watched the display with interest, contemplating their options. “You’re very sure of yourself, perhaps I should call you Archduke already if that is your goal. Consider it forward payment, if you are to rise to such lofty heights. Are you certain you should be telling your father’s spy all of your plans?”

“That man would be far more than ignorant to not believe that this is my exact aim. I would imagine he would be thoroughly disappointed if his progeny lacked any ambition. You’re welcome to report that back to him if you so wish, but it has as much merit as telling him that rain makes things wet.” Raphael considered the rest of the statement, clawed finger rubbing along the line of his jaw. “As for the title… No. Not until I have what I want. Although names have power in themselves, and we do not yet have one for you.”

“Whatever identity I had is gone, all that remains is my body, and even that is more changeable than the weather in the material realm. So call me whatever you like, Archduke, it matters little. ” The smirked at seeing him bristle at the nickname, the implied insult. “Then you are willing to consider my deal? There are plenty of… benefits to a night with me~”

“You have been ill-informed to believe me easy to bed. I will not lay with any harlot to stroll into my bedchambers.”

It was the incubus’s turn to darken their expression, voice gaining the edge of a growl. “Oh I am well aware of your type, Archduke . Aren’t you tired of primming and posing? Of all this air of I’m so much better than you, listen to me, do this, do that, puny lesser beings .” They stood, rising to their full height, standing just a little taller than Raphael even though he had transformed. The tips of the cambion’s horns were higher, but their eyes were above his. The realisation widened their sinister smile. “You do not need to be above everyone all the time, that is why you didn’t turn me away when I told you I will not lie beneath you.”

“You think yourself more powerful, do you? Need I remind you that I am the Master of this house, I own you, incubus, you are a gift in a pretty bow.” He stood firm, unswayed as they moved closer, the strong scent of cinnamon drifting from their warm-toned skin.

“You feel nothing, even now?” Their bright green eyes glowed more intensely in the face of Raphael’s insults, paying his venom no mind. Their tail began to touch his lower leg as they stepped even closer, faces just inches away. “You do not, do you…but you feel that.”

—

Raphael certainly felt something. Irritation, the searing tip of white hot rage pressing forward like a knife at the front of his mind, and…curiosity. How could he not be curious about a fiend who dared to be so brazen with him? To stand before him without bowing even once, never offering a single thing to gain his favour. They were speaking to him as an equal - that should have been an immense insult, and yet… “You should have more care about where you touch, harlot.” The offensive nickname slipped quickly from his lips, just as his tail slapped away the one that had been threatening to tug him off balance. “I have given you no such permission.” 

“Then if you gave me permission, you would allow it? Very interesting, Archduke. Let me ask you this, if I may?” They kept from touching him again, for now, instead observing his features closer with a piercing gaze.

“Ask. There is little point in asking to ask, aside from wasting my time.” He remained unmoved, tail betraying a hint of his irritation still.

“Your clients, the mortals you deal with. They desire you, do they not? You are a handsome devil, in either of your forms. Your human guise perhaps more attractive to some than your true fiendish self, but I see the appeal in both.” They smiled more sweetly, bringing a hand towards his face, never touching but tracing a line above his cheekbone, his jawline… A mockery of a lover’s caress.

“I am not here to be eye candy to you.” He sneered, faint lines in his face appearing with the expression. “Seduction is merely another card in my deck, mortal beings are too easy to manipulate with desire. Something I am sure a harlot would be more than aware of. You do not need me to point that out.”

“Quite so,” they continued their touchless caress down his neck, along his shoulder, and close to the top edge of his wing. “But I would be more than willing to fill your pointy boots in that regard~”

“I see you do have at least a modicum of sense between your filthy ideas.” He summoned a scroll to his hand, a quill pen appearing in the other, tip glowing with infernal magic. “Rules, incubus, and they will be followed. Without fail. Or I will not hesitate to cast you out of here.”

They sighed, hand dropping back to their side from where it had been hovering above the thinner and more sensitive skin of the cambion’s wings. “ Fine, if you insist we shall have it all in writing. You are to ensure I do not go hungry. Either provide me with partners to satisfy my hunger, or satisfy me with your own body.”

“Agreed.” Lines appeared upon the page in infernal script, glowing on the parchment with the power they contained. “And you shall not lay so much as a finger upon a client without my permission.”

“Then make it simple. This room will be mine as much as it is yours. Those you allow to cross the threshold are by rights my own to take, should they agree to it.” They smirked, adding to the letters upon the page. “The house is your domain, but in this room I am the only Master.”

Raphael’s ego failed to pick up on the edge of their tone as he easily agreed to the term, and moved on to the next. “Then the illusion must be maintained. Once you have my form, you are to wear it until or unless I specify otherwise.”

This time the incubus wavered. “You are asking me to give up the last shred of my personhood, to become you?”

“No. You will retain your personality as you see fit. You are to be my mirror in appearance, I cannot have a stray client or debtor seeing through that. They must believe, at least to a degree, that it is me they are laying with, and not some brothel-hired -” He paused. His finger traced a few letters in the air, moving them around, reforming his own name into something new. “That’s it. Haarlep. A perfect anagram, the version of Raphael that is closer to the Harlot that you are.” “You scorn me even as you wish to use me to your own ends?” The incubus frowned, though the name…was not entirely objectionable.

“The name should be a fitting match for the wearer, should it not? Or do you have a better idea?” He raised an eyebrow, staring directly into the incubus’ eyes. “I suppose I can become accustomed to it, with time.” They looked at the page, filling with more rules as they talked.

—

Some time later the full document was drawn up and signed, befitting Raphael’s side of the deal. Haarlep, as they had reluctantly accepted the name, would require the consummation to finalise things yet.

Both cambion and incubus smirked, feeling as if they had outmanoeuvred the other, their own egos clouding their gaze from the space between the lines. Had they looked closer, they might have noticed the finer details they hid from each other between clever words and half-truths…but it mattered little. The signatures marked the parchment in clear and binding text.

Haarlep, as they were now named, watched the scroll disappear to whatever archive it would be stored in with a wide smile.

“And what is it precisely that you find so amusing?” Raphael’s voice drew their gaze back to his eyes.

“Oh, nothing, Archduke.” They leaned just a little closer to his face. His appearance was by no means distasteful, if they were being honest they found his form to be intensely attractive, their imagination already undressing him as they spoke. “Now, I want you to take a very good look at me. Memorise every pore in my skin, every hair on my head, every little details of me . If I am to give it up, to become you until such time as either we reach our common goal or Mephistopheles decides my work here is done, I would have at least one being remember me properly.”

“I can have a portrait made if you are so particular. And despite your glamour, you will have access to this form should it be permitted.” He pulled back by an almost imperceptible amount, small wrinkles forming on the bridge of his nose.

“No.” The incubus spoke with a growing air of authority. “I will burn every part of my image into your mind and body. Every time you close your eyes you will see me, every moment of silence you will hear my true voice in your ear, every moment your own hands touch your body the grip you will feel upon your throat will be mine.”

Raphael took an involuntary step back this time. The imposing figure of his supposed gift, the toy he was simply supposed to occupy the hours with, the being that was intended to be used for pleasure alone…it felt as if their shadow was about to swallow him whole. Haarlep could see it in his eyes, the way the sweat began to bead on his brow, the breath catching in his throat as they leaned closer again.

They had him cornered like prey, a meal they fully intended to devour, the promise of what the contract could deliver almost as enticing as the low scent of arousal rising from the cambion’s crimson skin. “You needn’t fear my touch, Raphael. I assure you, this can be a most pleasant experience. You feel it already, do you not? The anticipation rising within you, the heat of my body moving closer, that sweet cinnamon filling your senses already…” They grinned wickedly. “It is, of course, more potent from my tongue, but there are ways I can allow the aphrodisiac my body produces begin to affect you from this distance.”

“That…would be acceptable.” The usually proud cambion struggled to find the words, his presence shrinking back with the hint of power in the words he had already signed away.

“Then you accept my lips? You want to feel the kiss of an incubus, to taste my lust upon your tongue?” Their wings fluttered in anticipation.

“Stop talking already. Your master has granted you permission by the terms of the deal.”

“Oh, Raphael, you have forgotten so quickly…in this room, I am the Master now.”

--- --- ENDING NOTES --- ---

Well I did promise the images of Prequel Haarlep, so here they are~ This was made by someone who has a fair few mods for BG3, based on my description. In truth, I far prefer @littleprincepaladin's artwork

Original Work Notes (from the time this was first published)

Haarlep's original form is based on incubus/succubus lore. They are shown to have far smaller horns than cambions, a more human range of skin tones and not blues/reds/etc like cambions and tieflings have. They do, however, still have wings and tails.

The article is written a lot in binary gender terms but I prefer to see it like the original literal meanings of the words: Incubus - to lie on top of Succubus - to lie beneath Concubus - to lie beside

So there could be male succubi, female incubi, and in general they do not necessarily have a fixed gender unless they choose to.

My version of Haarlep here uses they/them pronouns, in the same way that the game does, and prefers a slightly masculine leaning body type. They would consider themselves genderfluid or gender neutral by our terms, though they really do not care for it at all unless it has something to do with pleasure or power.

I do not have an original name for them, and this is intentional too. They will, however, grow into their new role and title as the chapters progress.

CHAPTER 2 HERE

[hereforhalstead]

Showtime

*Gif not mine, credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader.

• Requested: Not this one! Just fancied writing a little jealous Jay piece as I thought it had been a while👀 hope you enjoy!

• Warnings: Swearing

• Summary: Voight asks you to go undercover with Adam in which you decide to tease Jay about it as the unit are unaware of your relationship.

• Words: 3083

****

You sat at your desk as Voight called everyone to gather round his office, he makes his way over to the whiteboard and swings it round to show the information on the other side, your eyes wander over the board and the sight of so much detail and CCTV stills. You can’t help but realise you never saw him write any that down, so dread to think the hours he was here until last night to put this plan together. 

He was clearly having one of his days where no options were wanted and or needed, he blitzed through the minor details and barely stopped to take a breath. You all stood watching as he reeled off information that you were all supposed to be taking in, you were secretly hoping someone else was paying more attention than you as it seemed to be going in one ear and out the other. You find yourself loosing concentration as you focus on a random spot on the board, you jolt as Kevin nudges your arm. You turn to see Voight raising his brows at you, jaw hung open with the corner of his lip turned in spite “Sorry, what?” you quickly straighten up and actually focus on what he’s saying. “Nice of you to join us again, Y/N” he shakes his head and continues to point out details on the board.

A few moments later you had pretty much got the gist of the plan but it then came to giving out roles “Halstead, you’re gonna be posing as a bar tender to keep an eye on movements inside”. He barked his order and Jay nodded in response, “Kim, you’ll be a drunk club goer who’s trying it on with Jay so you’ll both be near by”. She rolled her eyes at Jay who always seemed to be used in some form of flirtatious way during these things which suited him but didn’t sit well with you. You trusted your team and would never doubt their intentions but it still wasn’t ideal for them to throw themselves at Jay during these missions and you couldn’t even make a well natured sarcastic comment about how he was yours.

You and Jay had been somewhat of an ‘item’ for a few months, you found yourselves growing closer after becoming partners and soon one thing led to another. Unbearable tension built and Kim was the one to call you out on it, fed up of being put in the middle of your silly spats and childish arguments when it was clear how drawn to each other you were. You decided to keep it between the pair of you as Voight made it clear he wasn’t a fan of relations within the unit, Jay struggled at first but after seeing the way Voight laid into Kim and Adam he soon realised you had a point. It was all fun and games at first, sneaky glances across the room, little touches in the locker room but there was always going to be some negatives that you hadn’t planned for. For example, the way girls throw themselves at Jay was something you’d never get used to. I mean he truly was something else but the way they would do anything to get his attention made you cringe, what was even worse was how he would try and wriggle out of the situations but they would follow him around like a lost puppy. You’d watch as he’d get more frustrated with not being able to tell them he wasn’t single and how he looked to you for help but you couldn’t do much more. 

Jay found it equally as hard as he was quite a jealous and protective person, this was magnified when he was thrown into the deep end of men flirting with you and him having to just stand back and watch. He would step in every now and then if they really weren’t getting the hint but if he intervened every time he wanted, someone definitely would’ve caught on by now. 

Voight finished giving out instructions and demands of Hailey and Kevin taking roles of surveillance in the van parked outside the venue. He was quick to dismiss everyone which left you and Adam without direction, “What about us Sarge?” Adam questions and the group hang back, thinking they’ll be involved in a change of plan. “Oh yeah, how could I forget. The main stars of my show” he slings an arm round each of you as he pulls the pair of you to face the rest “Everyone, meet the new hot couple in Intelligence” he proudly announces and you see Jay’s face drop but you’re just as confused “Come again?” you question but Adam doesn’t need telling twice as he doesn’t seem to doubt Voight’s decision “Fine by me” he winks towards you. You look to Kim and cock your eyebrow with an unimpressed glance, she shrugs back at you and smiles which puts you slightly at ease as you didn’t want to step on any toes due to you knowing how it felt to be put in that position with a certain detective. “I’m putting the pair of you undercover, Adam as the big man and you being his not to clued up eye candy” Voight pats you on the shoulder as you notice Jay roll his eyes “Thanks Sarge, won’t take it personally” you sarcastically respond. 

“Go on, go get dressed up the pair of you.” he releases you from his hold as Adam receives a high five from Kevin followed by a “my man” in praise. “I sent Trudy out to pick up some outfits for you, go and get them from her and get your arses into gear. We leave in an hour.” Voight heads back into his office and shuts the door behind him, you make your way over to Kim’s desk and perch yourself on the edge “Why couldn’t he choose you? Surely he knows you have much better convincing power with Adam than me” you mutter but considering the room was in silence you knew everyone could hear. “You know what he’s like with me and Adam, he’s probably doing this in spite of me” she moans “Just remember to stay on his left side, he always favors his right” she adds and you laugh “he’s such a girl”. 

“M’Lady, shall we go and get red carpet ready?” Adam approaches and offers his arm out to you, you run your eyes up and down his body in judgement but he doesn’t move “Come on, it could be worse. You could be stuck with Halstead” he scans his eyes over to Jay who was already leaning on his elbow and watching the pair of you “Suppose you’re right” you respond to play along with his jokes. Jay tilts his head and a sarcastic grin flashes on his face before turning back to his paperwork “Let’s go you two, why are you still here?” Voight’s rough voice echoes through the room as he storms out of his office “Trudy picking outfits? If I come back in a bin bag just know it was better than whatever god forsaken mess she has picked” you whisper to Kim who chuckles as you take Adam’s arm and head down the stairs to Trudy. 

You’re taken by surprise as she pulls out the clothes from the bags, she’d picked out a nice white shirt for Adam with some tailored black pants and some black leather shoes. “A little magician like for me but I’ll take it” he comments as he takes the bag from her, she stares him down with her intense gaze and then turns onto you. You feel yourself dreading what she will present you with but your jaw nearly drops to the floor when she picks out a little satin black dress and when you say little, you mean little. The corresponding black heels soon get placed on the counter and you can see Trudy trying to conceal her smugness but failing “This the kind of thing you wear for Mouch?” Adam asks and laughs to himself but Trudy doesn’t mirror his humour “I rarely wear anything for Mouch” she winks and Adam clears his throat “I’ll leave that alone if you don’t mind”.

You take the bag into the locker room and slip into the dress, this wasn’t you’re normal attire but you were not mad in the slightest. The shortness of the dress would take some getting used to but once you got the heels on you felt incredible. Luckily, you always kept some make up in your locker due to plans within Intelligence being pretty last minute and you liked to make some touch up’s before you headed out to Molly’s for the evening. You took yourself over to the mirror and began applying your make up, a little heavier than usual as you wanted to match the aesthetic of your outfit but still nothing crazy and thanking yourself for washing and straightening your hair the night before so it was already good to go after a quick brush through. You studied yourself in the mirror and was quite impressed with the outcome and dare you admit, excited to see how riled up it would make Jay. You took out your phone and sent him a quick text message, simply saying ‘Sorry in advance’ so you could say you gave him some form of pre warning. 

Stuffing your old clothes back into your locker you head back upstairs and can feel your heart racing as you get closer and closer to the top of the steps. As soon as you come into sight, you’re met with wolf whistles and various comments to which you never know how to respond “Damn girl, didn’t know you had it in you” Kevin pipes up as his eyes roam your body “Not mad about it, not mad at all” Adam chimes in as Hailey coughs to interrupt “Keep it in your pants boys, you don’t see Halstead drooling over her. Be more like him” she adds and you laugh to yourself at the irony. Jay clears his throat and makes his way over to you, your heart thumping so hard in your chest that you’re sure everyone is bound to hear. He hands you a necklace and you stare at him confused, he picks up your hand from your side and places it in your palm with more force than you were expecting, taking you slightly aback “Voight wants you to wear this, something about how it can be a present Adam gave you but it will really be where your mic goes”. Adam peers over at the necklace and nods “I’ve got good taste, you’re very lucky” he suggests with a wink, Jay soon returns to his desk, avoiding all eye contact and turning his attention back to his monitor. 

“Are you not meant to have a bag of some sort?” Hailey asks and you check inside the carrier bag Trudy gave you but see nothing resembling any accessories “Nothing in here, might’ve left it in the locker room though”. You place the bag on Kim’s desk and head back down the stairs, passing Trudy’s desk as you go. She takes a double look as you stroll past and nods to herself “Not bad Y/N. You’ve got a great stylist” she compliments and you dramatically flick your hair in response, “What’s up with the mood Halstead?” she keeps her eyes on you despite her talking to Jay who makes his way down the stairs “I’m not in a mood?” he snaps back, regretting instantly as she widens her eyes at him “Tell your stompy feet that then” she looks him up and down and then smiles at you “Smash it kid”. 

You feel some sort of warmth from Trudy despite what people think of her, she always had a soft spot for you and you found comfort in seeing her as your ‘work mum’. God for bid she ever found out that you think of her that way though, she’d probably stop speaking to you all together.. 

You stand at Trudy’s desk and wait for Jay to leave but he doesn’t seem to be budging, you feel him staring at you as if he is waiting for you to make the first move “Sorry, did you want something or?” she asks and Jay shakes his head “Voight sent me down here to help Y/N look for something in the locker room” he is quick to respond but you knew it was bullshit, Voight couldn’t care less about you finding a bag let alone putting 2 people onto finding it. You push your thoughts aside and carry on walking to the locker room you had just been getting ready in. The sound of your heels clicking on the hard floor sure turned some heads and it was just your luck a drunk group of men were in one of the rooms to awaiting questioning. One of them leant against the door frame and wolf whistled, the other joined him and made some comment about how you looked but you didn’t give it any attention, Jay on the other hand couldn’t stop himself “Sit back down and shut the fuck up before I make you, we clear?” he slammed the door shut behind them but you kept walking.

“What are you really doing here Jay?” you question as you enter the room, holding the door open for him before walking over to your locker. You hear a loud thud as he shuts it behind the pair of you and leans his back against it, his knee bent as he picks off a bit of fluff from the thigh of his jeans “That dress new?” he asks, still not looking up at you and focusing on his jeans “You know it is, Voight only told the entire team that Trudy bought us outfits?” you huff as you fail to find any form of bag or purse that was intended for you to use. 

You begin to walk around to check other areas you had been within the room, the bathroom, the mirror but nothing seemed to jump out. Meanwhile, Jay was still stood leaning against the door and watching your every move intently “You gonna let me leave and do my job or?” you stand in front of Jay but he doesn’t budge. Instead he simply turns his nose up and shakes his head “Well then do something useful and help me put this necklace on” you hang the jewelry from your hand but he just stares at it “Or I’ll just do it myself then. Fuck sake” you mumble under your breath and walk back over to the mirror.

A few moments go by and it was no use, you couldn’t get the necklace on by yourself and Jay was still being as useless as ever and not moving to help, instead strolling over and sitting on one of the benches in the middle of the room. “Guess I’ll just get Adam to put it on for me, or Kevin. I’m sure they’d jump at the chance to help” you think aloud and strut past Jay who reaches up to catch your wrist before you can get any further “Come here then”.

He pulls you down onto his lap and you can feel his breath against the nape of your neck, a shiver run down your spine as he touches your skin and moves your hair to one side “Looking forward to being coupled with Adam? You look great together” he remarks and you roll your eyes at him for ruining what could’ve been one of your private moments that you were starting to crave. You stand from his grasp as he manages to fix the necklace round your neck and head for the door to leave but he is hot on your trail “Something bothering you?” you ask but Jay responds by looking down on you with that glint in his eye and mischievous smirk to try and divert your attention from how he is behaving “You don’t even have to say a word for me to know you’re lying if you say you don’t care" you chuckle but Jay isn’t amused. 

“Go and have fun, I’m sure I’ll have a great time watching the pair of you all over each other” he comments with gritted teeth “I’m sure we will have a blast, might even stick my tongue down his throat" you quickly add and curse yourself for not thinking before you speak “Go for it, gotta make it convincing” to your shock he agrees but the way his fists hang tight at his side and his nostrils are flared tell a whole different story “You really need to work on your lying skills detective”.

You can sense the rage running through him as the pair of you stand in silence, your eyes flick over to the clock and realise you’re meant to be leaving at any moment and they will be wondering where you are. You place your hand on Jay’s cheek and see him lean into your hand slightly, no matter how tense he is with you he can never stop himself from giving into your touch. “We best get going, I’ve got to see a man about a new boyfriend” you tease causing Jay to regain himself and straighten up “I dare you Y/N. I dare you to put on your little act as best you can because you know I’ll be watching and ready to remind you who you belong to when we’re alone” he threatens and you feel as though your legs could give way out of the weakness he causes you. You know him too well to know these weren’t empty threats and you were now set on going above and beyond to make him jealous “Enjoy the show, baby.”

***

Inbox and requests always open💃🏼

After popular demand, Part 2 to this is now up!

[ericspinkhair]

quarantine longings

pairing: best friend!kevin x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

synopsis: you and your best friend have sex because quarantine made you horny

warnings: best friends to lovers, takes place during the pandemic, spoiler of 356 days (but not the end, just generally the plot), no use of condoms but only the pill, creampie, sexual fantasies, fingering, hand-job, sex, slight angst at the end if you squint

a/n: I would literally die for kevin, I love him so much. I'll be writing a multiple parts series about him after I'm done writing scenarios for every member first.

requests are open!

masterlist + requests

you slammed your foot hard against the wall and cursed in pain. you hopped on one foot to your bed, holding your other leg in agony and tasted blood as you bit your lip to keep the volume of your suffering groans in check. someone knocked on the door.

'are you okay?' your roommate asked concerned.

'no, leave me alone, kevin,' you croaked out. you wanted to suffer by yourself.

there was an awkward silence and then you heard him sigh. soon after, the door next to your room closed shut.

why were you so frustrated, one might ask? well, the pandemic was kicking your butt and you just couldn't take it anymore. when the news of the virus had first spread, no one thought it would become this serious. but suddenly everyone was walking around with masks and spent most of their time staying at home.

after graduating high school, you and kevin had decided to move in together for college because both of you were broke and couldn't afford to live alone. you had been best friends since middle school and had been convinced that it was a smart idea at the time.

and everything went smoothly for the first one and a half years. however, after not seeing anyone else since the start of the pandemic over a year ago, it became increasingly difficult to share an apartment, but not in the way one might assume. you were neither sick of each other nor did you fight a lot. to tell the truth, it was quite the opposite.

earlier, before you had kicked the wall in anger, the two of you had painted together. kevin was majoring in art and, since you didn't have anything better to do, you joined him while he did projects for his classes. you might have been majoring in journalism but you had always liked drawing and painting, even though you weren't particularly skilled. you were a naturally clumsy person, always tripping over air and dropping things. today you were hecticly moving around your hands while telling him about a stupid video you had seen and you accidently let go of the brush in your hand. it hit the side of kevin's face, leaving a wide splodge of red paint on his right cheek.

to get back at you, he jerked his paint brush and splattered some green color on your white shirt. you saw this as a challenge and soon both of you were both drenched in the colors of the rainbow, laughing hysterically on the floor, not caring that you were spreading the paint on the poor carpet.

you turned your heads to look at each other and you felt absolutely in peace. you loved this man and couldn't be more glad that it was him and not anyone else you were stuck with inside of this apartment.

he stood up to take off his stained shirt and your smile quickly faded off your face. your lips slightly parted and you couldn't help but stare at his now exposed biceps and abs.

your mouth watered and you felt heat pooling between your legs as you took your time to study his architecture. thoughts about how badly you wanted him to thrust into you while his strong arms held you up invaded your mind. you tried to shake them off but it was impossible.

occasions like this were slowly becoming a common occurrence for you.

having mostly stayed inside for over a year, also meant that you didn't have sex for that long. it's not like you were the horniest person on the planet but you still had needs that were being neglected. with kevin being home all the time you didn't even dare to masturbate, scared that he would be able to hear you through the frustratingly thin walls. you must have gone insane with all the lust building up inside you and that's why you suddenly craved to have sex with your best friend. this whole thing was destroying everything. it was hard to act normal when he was making you this nervous and heated but you tried to pretend that everything was fine anyway for the sake of your friendship.

that was the reason why you were angry and had hurt yourself. you hated the way you felt about your best friend and you hated the pandemic for not giving you an outlet to escape so you could recollect yourself.

what you weren't aware of was that kevin was no stranger to the exact same frustration.

he would need more than his ten fingers and ten toes to be able to count the amount of times he had to run to the bathroom to hide his boner because he had done so much as look at you bend over or stretch. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable but it was a challenge to try and calm down his hormones.

whenever he jacked off, images of you flashed through his mind; your sweet curves and pink lips drove him insane.

last week, you two were cooking together and you had asked him to get the salt. he stood behind you to reach for it on the highest shelf. he was forced to press his crotch against your butt cheeks and his dick hardened against his will. he quickly handed you the salt, excused himself and ran off before you could figure out what had happened.

he might not have known the cause of your sudden outburst but he sympathized with your fury because he had a lot of pent up anger towards covid as well.

he lay in his bed and tried to focus on the book he was reading but he couldn't tune out the groans coming from the room next to his. he cursed.

'stop it!' he was panicking as he saw a familiar tent forming in his pants. your sounds triggered some weird perverted part of his brain that sent signals right to his genitals. his dick was hardening and he saw no other solution to his problem than to give in to his subconscious desires.

he pulled down his pants just far enough so that his cock had enough room to spring out. it only needed a few strokes before it stood tall and angry. kevin pressed his head into his pillow and moved his hand fast. he wanted to get over with it quickly. he emptied his cum on his stomach while imagining your greedy little mouth being stuffed by his cock. he lay there panting as yet another round of shame flushed over him.

'get yourself together,' he whispered, mentally slapping himself.

***

'do you want to order japanese or italian?' you asked kevin. today was friday which meant it was time for your weekly tradition of ordering take out and watching a movie.

'definitely italian. we've already had japanese for the past four days. I need something else for a change,' kevin complained and shuddered at the thought of having to eat sushi again. the japanese restaurant prepared absolutely delicious food but he just couldn't stand it anymore.

you laughed at his pained facial expression. 'fine, italian it is.'

within twenty minutes the doorbell rang and after about half a minute kevin came back with two huge boxes.

he opened them on the small table situated in front of your couch and the smell of freshly cooked pasta seasoned with basil made your stomach growl.

kevin wanted to dig in already but you stopped him. you had to choose a movie first.

'let's watch tall girl. I saw everyone hate on it on tiktok,' you suggested.

'I think we should watch 365 days, that was all over my for you page as well,' kevin argued. you hadn't heard of it so you weren't sure whether it would be the right movie for you. the rule was that it had to be as bad as possible.

'according to what I have heard, it's apparently even worse than 50 shades of grey,' kevin added which piqued your interest. the both of you had watched 50 shades about two months ago and you were honestly shocked by how awful it actually was. you couldn't understand why everyone had been so obsessed with it when it was first released. if 356 days was really worse, then you'd hit the jackpot. you clapped your hands.

'fine, you win. I swear if the movie isn't as horrible as you say it is then you owe me something!' he intertwined his pinky with yours to promise.

watching horrible movies was way better than watching good ones. making fun of bad storylines, stupid characters or horrible editing was one of your favorite past times.

'I guess I'll have to add are you lost, baby girl to the top 10 worst lines ever spoken. who thought ah yes this is sexy, let's have him repeat it over and over again', you complained, shoving some pasta into your mouth.

'so he's like I won't do anything without your permission while he is literally groping her boobs against her will, like make it make sense, massimo', added kevin, ruffling his hair in frustration. he almost completely forgot about the food.

'so let me get this straight: he drugged her, kidnapped her, tied her up, hung up a painting of her just because he saw her face when his dad was shot?'

'totally relatable.' both of you giggled.

you were enjoying complaining about the plot. it was horrible.

there were plenty of erotic scenes but they were honestly so funny and kinda gross that you could bare it without really being affected by them. kevin, on the other hand, had placed a pillow over his hard-on to hide the embarrassing fact that these terrible, smutty scenes had turned him on.

and then the infamous boat scene came.

massimo and laura had a huge fight, she fell of the boat, he saved her and now she was suddenly so in love with him that she begs him to fuck her. which he does.

you felt your panties become increasingly wet as the couple had steaming hot sex.

'this is embarrassing but I'm so horny,' you admitted but in a way that should have suggested that you meant it as a joke. something about this statement stirred something in kevin.

'well, what can I say?' he replied and lifted the pillow. your pupils widened at the sight of your best friend's bulge.

his eyes darkened and he looked at you with lust clearly written on his face. you reciprocated his stare with the same intensity. you tried to focus on his dark brown orbs instead of his boner but the image you had just seen was present in your mind.

his gaze shifted to your lips and, before you knew it, kevin climbed above you and pressed your back flat onto the couch.

your lips locked and you immediately buried your hands in his hair to pull him closer. you moved in sync, his lips fitting perfectly onto yours. you bucked your hips up against his crotch and earned a moan from kevin. he opened his eyes in shock as realization hit him. he quickly pulled away and jumped off the coach.

'I'm so sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have just done that. I don't know what came over me,' he apologized profusely, staring at his feet. did he really think that you didn't want this?

'give me your hand,' you told him and held out your hand.

'why?' he raised his eyebrows in confusion. you rolled your eyes.

'just do it.'

you took his hand and led it to your crotch.

'what are you- oh my god.' your juices had completely soaked through your panties and your sweatpants. 'you are so wet.'

'for you,' you added. 'there's no need to apologize. I'm literally begging you to continue.'

you didn't have to say that twice before he pulled you closer to him by your hips and engaged you in another desperate kiss. his hands were groping your butt while you let yours slide under his hoodie. you felt his naked skin and toned abs, as you rubbed his stomach. you lowered your hands and bravely palmed his boner through his clothes.

'y/n,' he hissed out against your lips. you hooked your thumbs in the elastic of his pants and underwear, and pushed the material down to his thighs. he struggled to get them off.

you stroked his hard dick as he slipped his hand into your panties to massage your pussy at the same time.

he slipped one finger inside and began working it in and out. you finally were getting the relief you had been desperately craving for for so long. kevin was skilled and your walls were trying to swallow his slim finger. you were quickly coming close to your orgasm after having abstained for more than a year. you pulled his hand out.

'I bet you can make me come even better with your dick,' you challenged kevin.

'you bet I will.' he was confident.

'let me just look for a condom.' he was already turning away to go search in his room but you held him back by the arm.

'forget about it. I'm on the pill and I want you raw. I want you to come inside me and not spill into a stupid condom.'

the idea of this sounded very tempting to kevin. he picked you up and threw you back onto the couch, drawing your hips closer to him so he could pull off all the pieces of clothing that were hindering him from accessing your pussy.

he propped up his arms next to your sides and spread your thighs apart. strings of arousal were hanging from your folds and he saw your hole desperately clench around nothing. his dick hurt from how much he wanted to finally be inside of you. he wanted to find out how close he had been able to imagine how you would feel around him.

your hole took him in easily, welcoming him happily by embracing it tightly. kevin swore he could've cum right here and there.

he went slow at first to give you a chance to adjust but you were already fully ready, rocking your hips forward to meet his thrusts.

he crashed your mouths together and you kissed him like he was oxygen and you were short of air. you smiled and your eyes rolled back, satisfied with how things had played out today and the prospects of coming looked fairly promising.

desperate for release, kevin picked up the pace, his eyes closed while fucking into you like a horny animal. he couldn't help himself and all the 'faster's and 'harder's spilling from your mouth only encouraged him to drive himself deeper into you.

you wrapped your legs around his torso in an attempt to regain the control you were losing.

'fuck fuck fuck,' you cursed, feeling your muscles starting to contract. kevin brushed away some hair that was stuck to your sweaty forehead.

'it's fine, I'm coming too,' he announced and it took only a few more thrusts before a body shaking orgasm flushed over you, making you see only white. this drove kevin over the edge too and he spilled inside you, filling you up with his hot cum. he continued to slowly ease his dick in and out of you, fucking his semen right back into you until you had ridden out both of your orgasms. he let himself fall onto the couch right next to you, panting hard.

'I very much needed this,' you sighed in content.

'same, I wasn't sure whether I could hold out any longer without having a proper orgasm.' he watched his cum drip out of you.

'we should've thought of this sooner,' you said. 'this was a great idea.'

kevin hummed in agreement.

***

so now you and kevin were having sex on a regular basis, your high score being five times in a day. it felt good to finally live out your sexuality and not having to restrict yourself. sure, you guys did it more than necessary but it was a great way to pass time and it felt fucking amazing.

today you had done it in the shower after waking up, then on the kitchen counter and you had just finished having sex in his bed.

he was spooning you from behind, his cock still placed inside of you. he nuzzled his nose into your neck.

'stop, that tickles,' you chuckled.

'sorry.'

after a while of comfortable silence you heard him let out a big sigh.

'what's wrong?' you asked as he pulled out of you. you turned around to be able to look at him.

'I don't think I can do it like this anymore,' he confessed.

'what do you mean?' you asked. 'are you talking about us having sex?'

he nodded. your heart dropped and you started feeling dizzy. you tried to search for answers in his eyes but he avoided looking at you.

'w-why?' you stuttered, trying to hold back the tears that were welling up in your eyes.

'it was amazing at first,' he started and finally raised his head to meet your gaze, 'and I went into it without much thought. I went crazy during quarantine and began fantasizing about having sex with you. then it became reality but now I understand that was probably wrong of me. I've always thought of myself as a gentleman, yet I slept with you without much thought. you see, my issue is this…'

suspense hung in the air and you were impatiently waiting for him to get to the point.

'I like you.'

you quietly gasped in surprise. you had been expecting him to say you were bad at sex and that he regretted everything but not this.

'I shouldn't be sleeping with you unless you were my girlfriend,' he finished off his ramble. you felt immensely relieved.

'do you want me to?' you asked him.

'want you to what?' kevin was confused. he had been a hundred percent sure you'd immediately jump out of the bed in disgust when he confessed.

'be your girlfriend. after all, I like you too, you moron.' you realized that you had known this for a while. you might have even been crushing on your best friend since way before the pandemic struck but it was kind of hard to track your feelings. still, you were sure you liked him too. now that he had admitted his feelings, you were able to admit yours not only to him but to yourself as well.

'wow, I didn't expect this,' kevin confessed surprised. you laughed.

'yeah, we should've realized this sooner.' he pulled you closer and kissed you. it was different than the other times. his lips moved softly against yours, in contrast to all of your rough and passionate kisses you had exchanged these past few weeks. he conveyed his emotions through the kiss.

'you're ready again?' you groaned as you felt kevin's dick harden against your upper thigh. he chuckled.

'sorry, you just turn me on so much.'

so then you did it for the fourth time. that day, you set a new record of having sex six times. you might have been happy now but still just as horny.

[thebookreader12345]

Bullpen Chatter

Pairing: Hailey Upton x Kim Burgess x Best Friend! reader (plus Jay Halstead x reader)

Summary: Y/N and Jay have been seeing each other in secret for months, and after noticing Y/N's change in behavior, Hailey and Kim want to find out who the mystery guy is

Requested: Yes, by anonymous

Warnings: slight swearing

Word Count: 1,698 Words

"Hey. Where are you going?" Jay asked me sleepily as he noticed me getting ready.

"I've got to get home and shower and stuff," I reply and continue throwing my clothes on.

"I have a shower, and you have clothes here," Jay pointed out.

"I know, but my landlord is on my ass for never being there. Something about me wasting the space," I murmur.

"So then move in with me," Jay spoke. I froze in place for a few seconds, my mind running a mile a minute. I then turned around to face my boyfriend, who was still laying in bed.

"Really?" I question.

Jay nodded, a small smile lighting up his face. "I mean, if you want to. We've been dating for almost 8 months now, and I don't see my feelings for you changing any time soon."

I grinned widely and climbed back onto the bed so that I was laying on top of Jay, and leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. "I would love to move in with you. But you do know that because we're moving in together, we're gonna have to tell the unit that we're dating, right?"

"Give me a few days to prepare, and then we can tell them," Jay said.

"Okay. Now, I really do have to go if I'm going to make it to work on time. See you later," I tell him and peck his lips one last time before taking off. At my apartment, I took a quick shower and threw on some new clothes, barely making it out of the door in time to get to the district. After parking my car, I walked into the station and up the stairs, putting my hair into a ponytail as I did. When I got to the bullpen, I was surprised to see only Hailey and Kim sitting at their desks. "Morning, guys," I greet the two women. "Where are the guys?"

"I think I heard Adam say something about a donut run," Kim mentioned.

"Gotcha," I chirp and make my way over to my desk. Kim and Hailey both glanced at each other, confusion settling onto their faces. "What?"

"The past few months, you've been acting different. A good different, but different," Hailey noted.

"Yeah. You're always so cheerful in the mornings when the rest of us are miserable. So spill it. Who's the guy?" Kim quizzed.

I choked on the water I was drinking and coughed a few times to clear my throat, glancing up at my two co-workers. "What do you mean?"

"A girl only acts like you do when there's an amazing guy in her life," Kim answered. "So tell us who it is?"

"I never said...how'd you...shut up," I stammer, a slight blush rising to my cheeks.

"So there is a guy," Hailey stated. "When do we get to find out who it is?"

"Uh, give me a few days to get back to you on that," I confess and turn my attention back to the paperwork spread across my desk. At that moment, Adam, Jay, and Kevin walked up the stairs, their arms all filled with goodies and drinks.

"Hey guys. What's going on up here?" Kevin asked as he set down a box of donuts.

"We were just trying to get Y/N to tell us who see's seeing," Kim responded. My eyes darted to Jay, and I could tell that he was trying not to smile as he passed out coffees.

"Hold up," Adam interjected. "Y/N's got a boyfriend? Why am I just hearing about this now? Who is it?"

I groaned and set down my pen. "We're not talking about this right now. And I know you've all got paperwork to finish up, so you better get it done before Voight gets here in 10 minutes." The conversation stopped after that, but I knew the issue would eventually come back up, and at one point I'd have to talk about it. It just wouldn't be today

Time-skip Two Days

I was sitting in the interrogation room with files spread out all over the table, my hands occasionally moving the files around so that I could get a better view of certain ones. Lets just say that I was behind on paperwork, and I needed to get everything done before the end of shift. And being in here gave me more space than my desk did. I was just a little over a quarter of the way done when Kim and Hailey entered the room, taking up the two seats across from me.

"Uh, can I help you guys?" I question and sign another piece of paper, sticking it into a file to signify that it was completed.

"We'll be asking the questions here," Hailey cut in and folded her hands in front of her.

"Yeah. This is an official interrogation," Kim added.

I huffed. "Guys, if you couldn't tell, I've got a lot on my plate right now. And just because we're in the interrogation room does not make this an official interrogation. I could walk out of here right now if I wanted to."

"Who's the mystery man? Just tell us," Hailey pleaded.

"Hailey, Kim, I love you both. You're like sisters to me. But this," I exclaim and gesture to what was going on, "is insane."

"Y/N," Kim groaned and reached over to grab onto my arm. "Just tell us who the guy is! We want to know who's making you happy!"

I sighed and set down my pen. "So if I give you both some answers, you'll stop bugging me?"

"Yes," Hailey and Kim answered at the same time.

"Okay then. I won't tell you his name, but I will let you both ask some questions. But be aware that I'm only going to answer vaguely," I warn.

"Yes!" Kim cheered. "Okay. How long have the two of you been together?"

"8 months," I reply. "We're actually thinking about moving in together."

Hailey smiled. "That's amazing. Where does this mystery man work?"

"He's also a first responder," I respond.

"Wait a minute. Do we know him?" Kim quizzed.

"Maybe," I say and stand up, gathering my files as I did. "That's all for questions. Talk to you guys later!" And with that, I sped out of the interrogation room to get away from my two best friends. That night, back at Jay's apartment, the two of us were sitting in the living room eating pizza, a movie playing on the TV.

"Hey. You ever get that paperwork done today?" Jay asked and took a bite of pizza.

I shook my head. "Kim and Hailey wouldn't stop bugging me about the mystery man I was seeing."

Jay chuckled softly. "Well, I'm ready to tell everyone whenever you are."

"Right. Whenever I'm ready," I murmur.

Three Nights Later...

Our case was finally over, and all I wanted was a night off. So, everyone decided to go to Molly's to celebrate and let loose for a bit. Hailey, Kim, and I were sitting at the bar, drinks in front of all of us. I was sipping my beer lightly, waiting for Jay to arrive. I had told Kim and Hailey that my mystery man would be at Molly's tonight, so both of them were on the edge of their seats.

"Would you both settle down? He'll be here shortly," I tell him and take another sip of beer.

"We're just excited," Kim spoke. "You've been dating this guy for 8 months and haven't said a word, so he must be one hell of a guy."

"Oh, believe me, he is," I declare. Just then, the door to Molly's opened, and Jay stepped into the bar, immediately making eye contact with me.

"Jay! Over here!" Hailey called out and waved him over to the three of us. Jay made his way through the crowd to get to us, and as soon as he was close enough, I hopped off of my bar stool, grabbed him by the shirt, and brought his lips down to mine. I could feel Jay smile against my lips as he kissed back, his hands automatically gravitating to my waist. The kiss only lasted for a few seconds, but as soon as we pulled apart, I saw the shock etched onto my friends' faces. "Hold on a minute. My partner, the guy I've been working with for like 2 years now, is the mysterious man you've been dating for 8 months?"

"Surprise," I chirp and lean back against Jay's chest.

"I don't even know what to say," Kim confessed. "How did we not know the two of you were together?"

"We're just great at hiding it," Jay answered and gave my hand a small squeeze. "I'm gonna find the guys, okay? It's only fair that they know now too."

"Okay. We'll be over there in a few minutes," I say. Jay nodded and pecked my lips quickly before heading off to find Kevin and Adam amongst the crowd.

"So? What do you guys think?" I ask.

Hailey smiled. "You guys seem happy together, so I'm happy for you. Even if you did hide this from us for months.

"Yeah," Kim agreed. "We're just glad that you're happy."

"You guys are the best," I exclaim and finish the rest of my beer. "All right, next drinks are on me. It's the least I can do for making you two wait this long to find out who my boyfriend is. But, Hailey, I think the real question here is, 'What's going on between Kim and Adam?'"

Kim's face flushed a deep shade of red, and she gulped down the last of her beer. "Herrmann, we need some more drinks over here!"

"Oh, you're not getting away that easy. Y/N and I will hound you until you tell us everything," Hailey claimed. "But you're lucky that we just found out about Y/N and Jay, because right now, that's all I want to hear about. So Y/N, tell us everything."

I let out a mix between a sigh and a groan. "Okay. I guess we'll start out with our first kiss."

________________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13​ @dreamingmanip @campingmonkey @winterberryfox @nevertoofarfromivar @anotherfan07 @giagma @mrspeacem1nusone​ @i-like-sparkly-things​

[solarwonux]

Sangyeon x f!reader

W.C: 6.2k

Warnings: alcohol consumption, suggestive themes, arguing, mentions of cheating

For the 12 Months I Loved You Collab by: @sunlightwoo

Note: um...better late than never right?? This was supposed to go up in February but things happen. It’s one of my favorite ones that I’ve written, but I feel like I say that for every single thing I write lmao. I hope you like it plsssss let me know your thoughts. Thank you.xx

A long exasperated sigh left your lips at the sight of Sangyeon in the corner of the reception hall, chatting up a pretty redhead. His arm draped around their waist, clutching their body close to his, their faces close enough to smell the expensive champagne lingering in their breaths. A palm was placed on his chest as he leaned down to whisper something in their ear. Earning a flirtatious giggle from them, along with a sultry nod.

Their delicate fingers wrapped around his black tie as they pulled him close to whisper something against his plump lips. It was your cue to look away, but something inside of you—maybe the five flutes of champagne you had indulged in when the night was still young, prevented you from looking away.

Gripping the body of your sixth flute you prepared for what was to come, though when he smirked and unraveled their fingers from his tie, you let out a sigh of relief. Sangyeon still hasn’t broken rule number three of your friends with benefits arrangement.

As common courtesy for the other party, under absolutely no circumstance you are to hook up with other people.

Though when he ran his fingers down the side of their arm teasingly making them shiver at the feather-like feeling. One you had relished in for many nights on end, you knew he would not only be breaking rule number three but rule number four as well.

As common courtesy for the other party, under absolutely no circumstances you are to hook up with other people, especially when the other party is in the same room.

The anger flourished inside of you like an unwelcome weed. And you knew green was definitely not your color, but you couldn’t help but feel the jealousy take over, running along your veins like bitter poison. Your grip on your champagne flute got tighter. So much so that if you were destined with superhuman strength you would’ve shattered it into pieces, especially when his knowing eyes met yours. A glint of something sinister sparking behind them while his fingers laced with those of the red head.

He turned away before giving them a shy whisper and then tugged them gently towards the door of the reception hall. Leaving you behind in the middle of his best friend’s wedding reception, on your sixth flute of champagne, while you broke rule number six.

Don’t catch feelings for the other party involved.

To be fair when you and Sangyeon had agreed to the terms and conditions of your new no strings attached relationship. You were positive, even overly confident that you weren’t going to be the one to fall for your brother's asshole friend.

You had known him for years, grew up with him. He always made it his mission to make your life a living hell. Whether it was purple food coloring in your hair conditioner back in middle school (you had an odd mixture of purple and red that had somehow turned a nasty shade of burgundy in your hair for almost a year as you grew it out enough to cut off the damage,) or calling you ugly while simultaneously including all the the synonyms. He had made your life a living hell, he had been the reason for your tears whenever your insecurities took over. And he had been the reason for your newfound jealousy now as you sat on your couch a week after your brother's wedding still replaying the scene back in your head like a bad old timely movie.

It had started when two of you got drunk on Christmas Eve, laughing boisterously at your nonexistent love life’s.

“Who knew the reason we would be bonding is because we haven’t gotten laid in months.” He said, throwing his head back, gulping the remnants of his beer.

”For your information, I got laid last week. But I’m not bringing my one night stand to meet my family.” You rolled your eyes, bumping your shoulder against his.

He sets the beer bottle to his side, before leaning his elbows on his knees and gazing over at you. “How many people asked you where your date was tonight?”

“Too many.” You sigh, running your finger along the condensation of your own beer bottle. The memories of yours and Sangyeon’s family coming up to you asking you the million dollar question still prevalent in your mind. “You?”

“Not as many as I expected but still a lot. I just wish maybe they can back off.” He leaned back, placing his elbows behind him. He tore his eyes from your form and focused them on the night sky. “Maybe I should’ve hired a date or something.” He comments.

Your family's holiday party was still bustling behind the front door of your childhood home. Yet, the thought of ever going back in, earning judgmental looks from your single aunts was keeping you away.

He was right, maybe you should’ve hired someone as a date for the night.

Sangyeon bumped his knee against yours gently, “Want to date for the holiday’s?” The question came off as a joke, his sweet and gentle laugh following it. But as you sat there contemplating the idea, you realized that it wasn’t as bad. He was practically family. Your parents and his parents had been trying for years to set the two of you up. If you were to show up on New Year’s with your arm looped in his, no one would bat an eyelash. In fact you were willing to bet money that your mom and his would start crying pure tears of joy.

“Why not?” You shrug, “Our parents have been planning our wedding since we were kids, and as much as we don’t like each other. In some twisted sense of the word I do trust you.” Sangyeon did a double take, sitting up straighter and leaning in just enough to be in your line of sight.

“Are you sure?” Concern washed over his features. His bottom lip found its way in between his teeth as he waited for your response. “Like, you want to date me for the holiday’s?” He asked pleading for reassurance. Despite the relationship between the two of you not making sense to anyone outside your friendship circle, the level of trust and respect for each other’s boundaries was evident. You two pushed each other, got under each other’s skin, but you also knew when to stop. Which is why this plan was perfect. Foolproof.

“Yes.”

And somehow the two of you agreed that from then until further notice you would be each other’s dates for every holiday in the near future. Yet, if you had known the outcome of it you wouldn’t have agreed, especially not when the thin threshold had been crossed on your birthday.

He had showed up with a cheap bottle of vodka, all the romantic comedies he could find at the gas station and a boyish smile. His lips were on yours after five shots of the drinking game you had invented and you were naked underneath him after seven.

“I’m just saying, adding sex into the mix wouldn’t be such a bad idea.” He proposed with a shrug during a very awkward hang over filled coffee talk at the rundown cafe the next day. “We can even add some rules so it wouldn’t be so weird.”

“Adding rules is the weird part, Sangyeon.” You rolled your eyes before taking a sip of your herbal green tea and then cringing at the taste. “But they would help...you know to keep things from getting messy.”

“Then it’s settled.” He smiled widely grabbing the kids menu you had ordered from and a red crayon, scribbling down messily in his almost indescifrable handwriting:

Holi-date No Strings Attached Rule Book

Can I come over tonight.xx

Your eyes roll to the back of your head in annoyance, upon reading the text from Sangyeon. Of course, he hadn’t contacted you for over a week and the only time he decides to do so is when he’s in need of a good fuck. You throw your phone down on the table, resting your forehead against it. An annoyed sound falling out of your lips.

“Hello there negative nancy,” Kevin says, slipping into the seat in front of you. “I got you your favorite.” He sings, placing the iced matcha green tea latte in front of you and flicking the top of your head to get your attention.

You whine, lifting your head up a pout evident on your lips as you break the seal of the plastic lid with your paper straw. A poor attempt to reduce the consumption of plastic. Changing the straw wouldn’t do anything for the Earth when your whole cup is made out of non-biodegradable plastic. Maybe it’s the effort and the thought that counts, either way you take a sip from your drink, savoring the taste as it coats your tastebuds. Letting the false promise of a full six hour surge of energy run down your throat.

“Thank you for buying today.” You nod.

“It’s the least I can do for helping me with the web design project.” He smiles an award winning smile before bringing his hot mug of black coffee up to his lips. Hissing from the heat and cringing at the taste. Just like how he couldn't phantom how you liked the vibrant green liquid, you couldn’t understand how he drank five cups of black coffee daily. Indeed, he was not human, you concluded that a couple years ago.

You shrug, wrapping your fingers around the cup, “I had time to spare, but don’t get too comfortable with my help. It’s rare that I finish my work early.” You point an accusatory finger at him, furrowing your eyebrows before breaking into a wide smile.

“Ehh,” Kevin shrugs, “we’ll see about that when you’re begging me to buy you one of those nasty vomit colored drinks in a week.” He finishes sending you a wink that usually has all the girls and guys weak in the knees. You on the other hand have been so accustomed to his flirty ways after years of working side by side that it did nothing to you but annoy you slightly, yet in some odd way it comforted you.

Since day one everything between you and Kevin was comfortable and easy. He sat next to you in your digital marketing class Sophomore year of college and the two of you had been inseparable ever since. For a while you harbored a fat silent crush on him, his flirting being a point of confusion for you back then. It wasn’t until you experienced first hand what dating Kevin would be like that your crush dissipated into nothing but a platonic kind of love.

It was awful, the two of you had only gone on two dates. Two very disastrous and nightmare inducing dates, that sent shivers up both of your spines when just the mere thought of it entered the front lobe of your brains. It was then, while attempting to wash out a red wine stain out of your white dress in his and Jacob’s kitchen that you both agreed to just being friends. Eventually leading up to being coworkers as well.

It was a shame, you could always see yourself possibly loving Kevin and it would be easy too. And as much as you’d like to imagine it sometimes, he wouldn’t be able to give you what you wanted and vice versa.

“How’s the boyfriend, trouble in paradise yet?” He raises his eyebrow at you, hitting your calf lightly with the tip of his dress shoe.

You groan, running a hand through your hair, “Sangyeon is not my boyfriend, we just hang out sometimes.”

You quirks an eyebrow, smirking, “That’s what I said about Jacob and I, and look at us now.” He raises his left hand wiggling his ring ringer, letting the gold band catch the light of the setting sun. “Till death do us apart or something like that.” He shrugs, taking another sip from his coffee.

“Yeah but you two are perfect for each other, Sangyeon and I are like water and oil we don’t mix unless, well...you know.”

“Unless the two of you are fucking? Yes I am aware, the horror of me walking in on the two of you last month still keeps me up at night.” He shudders, pushing his half empty mug away from him. A disgusted look on his face.

“Ugh,” you put your head in your hands in utter despair, “I thought we agreed to forget about that and move on.”

“Fine I won’t bring it up again,” He rolls his eyes and sits back, crossing his arms in front of him. “But I know there’s trouble in paradise, does it have to do with what happened at the reception?”

You stare at him with wide eyes. It wasn’t just the events that took place at the reception. It was everything before the reception, during the reception and after the reception. You swore to yourself and him the morning after the two of you first accidentally slept together that you would never fall for him. But as it turns out, you had fallen for him long before that, a moment lost in time. A moment you couldn’t pinpoint but you just knew that what you felt for him was more than platonic. It sucked.

“Maybe,” you shrug, stirring the contents of your drink with your paper straw, distracting you and avoiding Kevin’s look of concern. “Honestly, I’m not sure. He’s just so frustrating. We agreed to have rules to make this whole fucked up situation less of a mess, but he broke two of those rules that night, purposely. I could tell that he was enjoying it.” You let out a defeated sigh and push your drink out of the way, bringing your arms to rest on top of the table, crossing them and hiding your face in them. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact emotion you were feeling, but you just knew it was bad from the way your throat closed up and the tears that were brimming in the corner of your eyes.

Kevin hummed and leaned forward onto the table, ruffling your hair in the process. “And what rule have you broken?” He whispers.

“The one in which I wasn’t supposed to fall for him.” You lift your head, digging your palms into your eyes forcefully. “I didn’t want to, I still don’t want to, but I can’t stop. It’s like he’s casted some kind of love spell on me. Maybe it’s part of his evil plan to destroy me once and for all.” You sigh, grabbing your phone and turning it over. The text sitting there unread, haunting you.

“Don’t answer it.” Kevin covers your screen with his hand. The sadness he held for you is evident behind his soft eyes. “I know you want to but don’t answer it. It’s only going to make you feel worse and frankly I still hate seeing you cry.”

He’s right. Answering him would only make you feel smaller than you already do. You didn’t want to see him, but you longed to have him hold you even if it meant nothing to him. You push Kevin’s hand away, swiping your thumb over the text, hitting reply. You know you should listen to your best friend, but there’s a reason why the two of you would’ve never made it far in a romantic relationship.

You were stubborn and never listened.

8pm, don’t be late. I have to wake up early tomorrow.

Kevin sighs, shaking his head in disappointment, falling back in his chair, scoffing. “Last time, tonight will be the last time and then we break it off.” You say, avoiding his eyes.

“That’s exactly what I said and I ended up having a shotgun wedding.”

Can’t wait, miss you.xx

“My job’s having an event for Valentine’s Day.” Sangyeon broke the silence, his chest still rising rapidly, matching yours. As you came down from your highs.

The second he had walked in through your front door he was pinning you against your poor excuse of a dining room table, without a proper greeting. He barely gave you a second to think before he was peeling your clothes off in a haste and carrying you off to your room.

“And you want me to go with you?” You turn your head to face him. He was laying down on his side, his head resting on his arm, watching you cautiously.

“Mhm,” He puts his arm around your waist and pulls you close. “I need a plus one, I have this annoying coworker that doesn’t leave me alone. I figured if I brought you along they would back off.”

“So I’m not just your date, but also your cockblock?” You tilt your head to the side, raising your eyebrow. “What happens when they find out we aren’t actually dating?” You poke his chest with your index finger. It was smooth and muscular and decorated with the beautiful marks you left behind a few minutes ago.

“They won’t.” He smiled leaving a light kiss against your neck, trailing his lips up and sucking on the spot he knew would have you moaning in seconds. “What do you say?” He bites your earlobe, pulling it before sitting up again.

You sigh and bring your sheets up to your body, sitting up. “I can't, I have plans already.” You lie hugging your knees up to your chest. You wanted to go, pretend once more that you and Sangyeon were more than holiday dates and fuck buddies. But you couldn’t put yourself through that anymore. You were getting used to being by his side, living out a fantasy in your head. When all he wanted was a quick fuck and an easy pass.

“I have a date, Kevin and Jacob’s friend.” You shrug, closing your eyes, mentally apologizing to the couple for dragging them into your problem’s once again. “We’re going out to dinner.” You finish, opening your eyes and looking over at Sangyeon who laid there, messy hair decorating his pillows, stunned. You knew what he was thinking and you were just waiting for him to say it. To get it over with so he’d leave as fast he came in.

He chewed on his bottom lip and then scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh, what about rule number seven or whatever.” He quickly got up from your bed, letting the sheets covering his lower half fall down to your carpeted floor.

As common courtesy for the other party, under absolutely no circumstances you are to date other people, until officially calling the deal off.

“Well, I don’t know. I like him. We’ve been talking for a while now and he’s sweet. He likes me.” You shrug, watching as he walks around your room looking for his discarded clothes. “And I haven’t broken the rule, yet. I was hoping we could talk about it and just call this whole thing off once and for all.”

“No but you broke rule number one or something.” He puts on his boxers fast and digs through your scattered clothes on your floor for the rest of his clothes.

You sat there silently watching him, running through your memory files as you recalled the rules and what rule number one consisted of which had nothing to do with what you had done. Or lied about doing.

As common courtesy for the other party, always use protection.

“That’s not what rule number one is, it’s -”

“Whatever, you broke a rule before calling it quits, you were basically cheating on me.” He yells, leaving his white washed jeans unbuttoned as he runs a frustrated hand through his hair. You were floored, witnessing an angry Sangyeon wasn’t rare for you. In fact, growing up you had been the product of many of his angry outbursts while inducing your revenge, but it was never serious. This was different. This felt different. This was serious, he was accusing you of something you didn’t do. He was accusing you of doing the one thing you saw him do at your brother’s wedding reception. It made your blood boil.

“That’s fucking rich coming from you, when you cheated on me first, but I never brought it up because although you fucking did break a rule. We are not together so who am I to get angry at you?” You threw your hands up in the hair, before pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Who are you to get angry with me?”

“And they were a good fucking lay, much better than you in every single aspect.” He spits out, angrily putting on his shirt. His words hurt. He was hitting you where it hurts the most and he wasn’t even aware of it. You held his gaze, refusing to break down in front of him.

“Why not ask them instead, why didn’t you go to them tonight instead of coming here?”

He shrugs, looking around your room, focusing on the polaroid pictures you kept on your mirror. Anything was better than looking at you, and the tears pooling in yours in which he undoubtedly was the cause of. But he was hurt too, you let him come over, you let him in and he had given you everything. Poured out his unwarranted feelings into every kiss he left on your body and every pattern he painted onto your skin with his delicate fingertips, just like he always did whenever the two of you got together. He knew he had broken rule number six a long time ago. Back when the two of you were still in high school, when the rules didn’t exist and his crush on you was nothing compared to what he felt for you now. But he was scared of telling you, and it had gotten him nowhere.

His heart still broke just like he feared, and even worse he had broken yours too.

“Maybe I should, this was a mistake. Being with you in the first place was a mistake and I knew it was going to bite me in the ass one day.”

“Get out, I never want to see you again.”

“With pleasure.” Sangyeon turns around and walks out the door. It wasn’t until you heard your front door slam shut that you finally let yourself cry.

You should’ve listened to Kevin.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Jacob pulls his scarf around his neck. Though, it was February it had snowed last night. The winter clothes that you had slowly started putting away, swiftly made their comeback when you woke up shivering that morning.

You shake your head, stuffing the heart shaped cake you had made for both him and Kevin the day before. Be mine inscribed in sparkly purple store bought icing as per request from Jacob, “It’s Valentine’s Day, you should spend it alone together.” You raise your eyebrows suggestively at the two men in front of you.

Kevin leans forward, one hand on his waist while the other one moves up and flicks your forehead, “get that pretty head of yours out of the gutter, Jacob and I are gonna romantically eat our weight in this beautiful cake you’ve made us, while watching the Bring it On series.”

“I’m trying to get him to realize why the third one is the best.” Jacob says pointedly, bumping his shoulder against his husbands. “Solange Knowles steals the show, but he doesn’t want to admit it.”

Kevin scoffs and turns to face him, “I love you and I love your love for the Knowles family but face it babe the best Bring it On movie is the first one, it sets the precedent for all the other movies.” He finishes painting the picture out with his hands in the air before kissing the others cheek.

You shake your head, silently giving Jacob a knowing look. Of course the third Bring it On was the best one, but you won’t ever say that out loud. At least not with Kevin present, he won’t ever let you live it down. Will go on and on about how both you and Jacob were wrong until he was repeating himself.

“It sounds tempting but I’m going to pass, I have my own date with my couch and heart shaped pizza and -”

“Your vibrator.” Kevin interrupts, raising his eyebrows, smiling smugly at you. The embarrassment taking over your body and rising out of your ears. Jacob rolled his eyes, hitting his husband’s upside the head, and a warning look. Kevin pouted, “What? I’m not wrong, that's what she does every Valentine’s day, I’m just stating the truth.” He complains rubbing the back of his head.

“We’re going to go now.” Jacob places both of his arms on top of Kevin’s shoulders, mouthing a sorry in the process. You brush him off, “the offer still stands, if you get bored you can join us.” He opens the door and pushes his husband through the door frame.

“I’m good, have fun and no Kevin you can’t sleep on my couch after Jacob’s kicked you out again.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, last time, I walked in on you and San -”

Jacob covers his mouth with wide eyes as he continues to push him out of your front door, Kevin shrinks at the realization that he almost slipped. It had been three weeks since you last met him, since he last reached out to you. The only thing you knew of him was that your mom had called you to tell you that he had finally gotten the promotion he had been desiring for almost a year. Doting over him like she always did. It had gotten worse when the two of you showed up hand in hand at New Year’s last year. You were proud of him. You wanted to hug him and celebrate his achievement in every which way you could. But you meant it when you told him that you didn’t want to see him again. You couldn’t trust yourself or your heart when it came to him.

“We love you, call us if you need anything.” Jacob said, sending you a kiss and shutting your front door. You smiled, listening to their bickering out in the hallway, standing there until they were far away and you couldn’t hear them anymore. They were characters, the two of them and even worse when they were together. It was why they were so perfect for one another, they completed one another in every sense of the word and it made you insanely happy, but also sad.

Sometimes you wished, whenever you were alone at night and staring up at your popcorn ceiling that you could have what they had with someone that loved you to the point in which they couldn’t live without you.

It will come, at least that what you told yourself whenever the tears stopped. You just had to be patient.

You were halfway through an episode of the Vampire Diaries, and your fourth slice of pizza when the knocking on your front door sounded. You rolled your eyes, quickly pausing your show and setting down your half eaten pizza slice in the box, before standing up. You obviously weren’t expecting anyone but you figured it was Kevin after getting kicked out again. It was never serious, this game both he and Jacob played. It was some form of twisted foreplay thing they did to keep things interesting. They had explained it to you once when you shared your concern for their relationship. Sometimes you wished you hadn’t asked. You could’ve gone living your life peacefully without knowing the details of their sex life.

“I’m going!” The knocking became more desperate the closer you got to the door, and it confused you. Maybe this wasn’t part of their roleplay fantasies and something had actually happened. It worried you. You could feel it all over your body as you grabbed hold of your doorknob. “Kevin is something wro-” You stopped mid sentence when you swung your door wide open revealing a very drunk and disheveled Sangyeon.

You brought your hand up to your chest, holding onto the necklace his family had given you back in highschool as a graduation present. You never took it off, it brought a sense of comfort whenever you were caught in situations that had your anxiety spiraling out of control. Situations similar to this one.

“What are you doing here?” You step aside to give him room to enter, inviting him in without a shadow of a doubt. You shouldn’t have done that, but the part of you that will always care for him was stronger than the part of you that wanted nothing to do with him.

“We agreed to be together every single holiday season and it’s Valentine’s Day.” He say, his voice slurring slightly at the end, evident that he had consumed more alcohol than what he could handle. “I can’t leave you alone on Valentine’s Day.” He finishes, his voice turning small at the end. He ran a shaking hand through his hair causing it to stand up in different directions as he paced through your living room.

You pressed your hands up to your cheeks, letting the coldness of your palms relieve the heat that had suddenly overtaken your body. “B-But we broke things off, we don’t have to do this anymore.” You drop your hands down and point at him and then at yourself, swallowing the lump that was forming in the back of your throat. “Don’t you have an event at work? What are you doing here?”

Sangyeon looks down, taking his lips in between his teeth, “I didn’t go.” He whispers before raising his head, his eyes welling up with tears as he stuffed his trembling hands into the pocket of his white washed jeans. You swore he didn’t own another pair. “I couldn’t go without you. I-I want to spend Valentine’s Day with you and the rest of upcoming holidays...But I also want to take you out on dates and binge watch shows with you and make love to you and hold you while you sleep. I want to wake up with you in my arms, and kiss you while you’re complaining about morning breath and make you breakfast.” He takes a shuddering deep breath before sitting down on the armrest of your couch, digging his thumb into the palm of his hands. “I just want to be with you forever.” He says, clearing his throat before letting the few tears he had been keeping fall.

“Sangyeon I-” You looked around your living room frantically. Your heart was beating out of your chest. The words that had fallen out of Sanyeon’s lips with ease were the last thing you had expected to ever hear him say. It was everything you had longed to hear him say for almost a year now and you didn’t know how to react. Should you tell him to leave to give you some space to take everything in? Or should you run up to him and kiss with all the love and passion you harbored for him? You were caught at the crossroads. was overwhelming.

Sangyeon scoffed, shaking his head before raising it again, turning his head to focus on your tv, avoiding your eyes. “You don’t have to say anything. I know you don’t feel the same way, I just couldn’t keep it in anymore. I’ve been in love with you since we were kids and I don’t know when you told me that you were seeing someone. I was so angry at myself for never being able to just confess and hurt that I had been too late.”

The air in your lungs caught itself in the back of your throat. You walked towards him quickly crouching down in front of him, taking his hands in yours. “Sangyeon look at me.” You swallowed, placing two of your fingers underneath his chin and guiding his head to face you, finally locking eyes with you. You felt so weak and full of energy, ready to kiss him until the two of you died from lack of air and you wanted to laugh. “We’re so stupid Sangyeon. This entire time I thought you only wanted me for sex while I slowly fell for you and now you’re telling me that you had the hots for me since we were kids...wow.” You smile, swiping your thumb underneath his eyelids wiping away his falling tears. “I’ve loved for a long time. I don’t know when I started to love you. Just that when I realized it I couldn’t stop.”

“‘I’m sorry.” He hiccups, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. “I’m sorry for what I did at your brother’s reception, but I swear on my grave that nothing happened between us. They were drunk so I called them an uber and walked them to their ride when it arrived.” He confesses, leaning down and circling his arms around your waist, guiding you to stand up.

He rests his forehead against your stomach sighing. “There’s never been anyone else for me other than you. You make me feel so stupid and frustrated sometimes. I know I shouldn’t have said the things I did that night, like you said I had no right to bud into your love life and being angry is no excuse but I was scared of losing you.” He looks up, his bright eyes pleading. “I’m still scared of losing you.”

You sniffle, bringing your hand up to his head, letting your fingers thread through his already messy hair, “I’m sorry too for lying. Clearly I had no plans.” You laugh lightly, pointing around your living room. “I had somehow convinced myself that lying about seeing someone else would be an easier way to end things, but it hurt so much seeing you leave knowing that there was a possibility I would never see you again.”

Sangyeon laughs, his shoulders shaking gently before he leaves a chaste kiss against your clothed stomach. “Honestly, that would be impossible, we’ve been practically married since the minute we entered this world.” He stands up, towering a couple inches over you, “If I hadn’t come tonight our moms would have forced us to talk sooner or later, I just got a little too drunk and beat them to it.” He presses a kiss against your head before pulling you into a tight hug, sighing happily. “I never want to be without you.”

You nod against his chest, “Will you remember this tomorrow?” It was a thought that had been running through your mind since his confession hit you full force knocking the wind out of your body. Though the few times you had a drunk Sangyeon in your presence he remembered every single tiny detail the next day. This was just your fear taking full charge at the thought of him waking up next to you confused, and walking out again.

He hummed, smoothing his hands down your back. “I’ll write everything that happened down and in detail. I’ll even describe the look on your face when I told you that I loved you. Which by the way have I told you that I love you...a lot.” He teased, leaning back and wiggling his brows.

You leave a light kiss on his chin before pulling away, unraveling his arms from your body. “I love you too.” You walked around him and sat on the couch picking up the remote. “Want to join me?” You tilt your head, your thumb hovering over the play button.

Sangyeon pouts slightly, copying your movements and sitting down next to you. “I haven’t asked you to be my official girlfriend yet.”

“Ask me in the morning, I want you to ask me when you’re sober.” You smile, kissing his lips lightly and wrapping your arm around his waist, leaning your head against his chest.

He makes a sound of approval, placing his arm around your shoulder, “Okay but I have another confession before you press play.”

“What is it?” You press your cheek against his chest before looking up at him confused.

“I already watched this episode, Elena and Damon get into a fight.”

“Don’t they always.”

“Yeah but I don’t want to watch it again.”

You shrug and press play, “Unfortunately, you have infiltrated my Valentine’s Day plans so you’re stuck watching.”

“I did it in the name of love.” He groans, shifting and pulling one of your legs over his lap, holding you closer, as the snarky remarks between the two characters start, sounding loudly through the speakers he had helped install when you first moved into your place three years ago. He almost told you he loved you that day, but then you had put an ice cube down his back and his mind instantly started thinking of ways to get his revenge. His confession hiding away again.

But now it was out in the open and finally he could love you the way he knew he could. The way you deserved.

“And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

[amara-scott]

Last Goodbye

Tv Series: The Haunting of Hill House Characters: Luke Crain x Reader Categories: Loads of Angst, Fluff (my favorite combo)

When I got the call I booked a plane ticket to fly back home as soon as I hung up. Studying abroad used to be my dream. And usually you would want to share your dreams with people you love, who you care a lot about. The Crains were such people. After my Dad passed away Nell made sure that I wouldn’t fall down a deep and dark rabbit hole. She encouraged me to go and find my path, to accept what happened and maybe even move on in life.

But who am I kidding. We all know you can never fully move on from death. It will always be apart of you, no matter what. You just learn to not think about it all day and not let it consume your life.

A cab brings me to the location I usually would love to visit but - today it’s a location we shouldn’t have to go to.

“Ma’m? We’re here.” I glance up to the driver, he sends me a small smile through the rear view mirror. “Do you need help with your luggage?”

I shake my head, trying to form a genuine smile but I frown instead, glancing down at my wallet as I fetch his payment and a tip. “Have a good day, sir.” I exit after he nods and I go around the car to collect my belongings. A small suitcase and my duffel bag. The wind is icy and small droplets of rain start covering my open hair. I make my way to Shirley’s porch and knock on the front door, waiting. I look back up as Kevin opens the door. He greets me with a sad smile.

“Hey, (Y/N).” I step closer and hug him, shaking my head. As we pull apart I feel my eyes glossing over.

“Wouldn’t have thought I’d be back so soon. Especially not because-“ I trail off, trying to lighten the mood. he shuffles aside and helps me with my luggage.

“Me neither. It’s good to see you though.”

“Where’s Shirl?” I ask as we settle on the living room couch, Kevin hands me a cup of tea. “Thanks.”

“She is probably prepping-“ he stops himself as he looks up at me, “-everything, for later.” I nod, capturing my lower lip between my teeth and nibble at the skin. My eyes landing on an opened book on the coffee table. A picture album. Pictures of Nell. Her wedding, her birthdays- oh Nell. I place down the cup, taking a closer look.

“She was way too good for this world.” I get out under my breath before the first tears roll down. I sniffle and wipe my eyes with my long sleeves.

“Here.” Kevin holds out a tissue for me and I thank him before using it. He joins me and holds me to his side, rubbing my arm. “She really was something special.” He adds and I nod, smiling through my tears as I lean forward to flip through the pages. Nell’s 8th birthday. A picture of her marvelous cake that we all made the night before. I was over for the weekend and helped out. Feeling very important as an 8 year old myself at the time. Luke- his big glasses seemed to grow with him and he still looked like the sweet boy that he used to be. Her wedding. He wasn’t there. Well, he was, but Shirley sent him off. I couldn’t even talk to him. That’s how fast she was. Something snapped inside her that day.

“(Y/N)?” I look over the back of the couch and Shirley stands there, taking off a light coat and coming over. I meet her halfway and she takes me into her arms. The tears flowing and my heart trembling.

“I’m so sorry- Shirl, I-“

“No, (Y/N) don’t say that. Non of this is your fault okay?” We part and I nod at her, folding my arms and feeling small, vulnerable.

“Did you-“ she nods, not letting me finish, too painful.

“She’s done, the food delivered and drinks are ready. Theo is there.”

“Let’s go over?” I ask and she nods, Shirl takes Kevin’s hand and we briefly walk in the cold before I see Theo who just stepped onto a cigarette.

“Hey.” I say and she looks up, taking me into her arms briefly. A small smile on her lips.

“I’m glad you’re here. She would want that.” She adds and we all walk inside into the hallway. Waiting.

“So, is Hugh coming? And Steve?” Shirley nods at me and we sit on a couple armchairs. My head only thinking of Luke though, about what he must go through. 

“Yeah, they should be here any minute now.” I take another deep breath, glancing up and making out her casket at the end of the isle. Flowers decorating it, everything dimly lit.

“Here-“ My view is blocked by Theo who holds out a glass to me, filled with clear liquor. I take it and smell, pure vodka. Might as well. I gulp it down and cringe at the taste as it’s burning down my throat.

The door opens and in walks Steve. By himself, no Hugh, nor his fiancé.

Luke is next. My eyes water again as I see him. Not just because of the three shots I emptied so far, no. He reminds me of Nell, so much. And I missed him, I miss her.

I stand up, walking over, embracing him after the Crains are done, feeling my warm tears falling and head pounding already.

“Luke-“ He holds me just as tight, burying his face into my neck. I sob, not knowing how to stop. “I’m so sorry.” I mumble into his collar. He holds me just a little tighter then, shaking his head.

“No, no it’s not your fault.” I pull away slightly, looking up into his red and puffy eyes, bruises visible on his delicate skin. A small and painful smile on his dry lips.

My hands go up to cup his face, thumbs running across his stubbled cheeks. I lean up and kiss his left one, then letting go. He’s gone through hell and back. That’s what he looks like, probably feels like.

Hugh comes last and it’s quite tense at first, he doesn’t seem to be fully present mentally. And I don’t want to know how it must feel to lose a child. Your youngest to add to that.

“Can you-“ I stop and glance up at Luke as we make our way inside the room. He gulps and looks down, his fingers grazing mine. I take his hand and hold it tightly. Giving him an assuring smile as I nod over to Nell.

“Let’s say goodbye.” I whisper and he nods, inhaling deeply, eyes fixed on Nell. The walk seemed infinite. When we arrive at the front, her face the same, her hair perfect, her dress- I can’t help but glance over at Shirley. I smile at her “She looks beautiful, Shirl.” 

She nods at me, thanking me quietly. I look back up at Luke, who stares at her, lost in thought, lost in memories. Allover lost. Without Nell.

“Let’s take a seat.” I whisper and wait for his response, he slowly nods and looks down at me. I lead him over to the chairs, taking a seat beside him. Still holding his now shaky hand in my lap. “You did good.” I add and he pries his eyes off of Nell, looking at me. 

“Thanks to you.” He squeezes my hand and I lean against his side. “You’re all I have left now.” I look up at him, frowning. “They don’t want me.” He chuckles, pain in his eyes as he glances around the room where his siblings and Dad all sit in different rows.

“That’s not true, you know that.” He shakes his head at me, disagreeing. 

“I don’t blame them either. I fucked it all up. Instead of being there for Nell- I fucked up. I rather got high than seeing my family.” His bites his lip, trying to hold back. “And now- now she's gone. Now it’s too late.” He takes his hand from mine and leans forward, elbows on knees and fingers deep in his hair.

“I wasn't even at her wedding. I didn’t get to see her-” I rub his back as I try to hold back more tears but who am I kidding. 

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself-” 

“-harsh on myself?” He repeats, a little louder. I flinch at his sudden outburst and he apologises, standing up and leaving the room. I sit back, glancing at my fingers as tears make their way down my warm cheeks. 

“Don’t even try, he’s hopeless.” Theo slurs and falls down into the seat next to me. I huff, not able to look at her before standing up. I run after Luke, the opened front door telling me he must have left. 

I step outside and hug myself as the cold wind sweeps through the door. Luke stands by the car, trying to find the right key- that’s not his car. 

“Luke, don’t do something stupid now-” He head shots up and he shakes his head.

“I need to go, I need- I have to stop this-” He rambles on as he finds the right key.

“Luke, Luke! You don’t have to do anything besides being here for your family, for Nell. Stay. Please-”

“I can’t.” He sits inside and shuts the door, starting the car, I shake my head at him as he drives off.

“Goddamit Luke.” I mumble.

[purpleyellow]

Shoe transition

The boyz 12th member

Mae’s masterlist

“Haknyeon and Mae need to make a tiktok during the Christmassy shooting” Minute for reference 2:25

Requested by: anon

a/n: Feel free to share your thoughts with me🧡

“Stand there by the lockers. No, not quite there. Just... a little over here,” Juhaknyeon instructed Mae by pulling her arm and placing her where he deemed the light to be the best.

While Sangyeon was shooting his part for the Christmassy music video, the girl had been assigned the task of recording a TikTok trend for the editors to place in between the “asking out” and “Christmassy night” portions of the video.

Haknyeon, who had just finished doing a “wipe it down” video, saw her holding an iPhone and a fancy shoe, and took it as his job to direct Mae into making a good TikTok.

“Right there. Now you throw the shoe and try to catch it with your foot, so when the video cuts-”

“I know how the trend goes” Mae sighed while he laid sideways on the ground “Don't mess up your clothes, we still have some scenes to shoot”

“Don't worry about me, just try to look fierce,” He indicated with his hands to move on. Tilting her chin up, the girl half closed her eyes and got in the stance to throw the shoe up. “Good, I'll start in, three... two... one”

“Why are you giving me Sharpay and Ryan vibes, right now?” Kevin spoke from his, until now, unknown place by the lockers. With the sudden interruption, Mae missed kicking the shoe with her foot and got scolded by Haknyeon, who almost got hit by it.

“I know I don't give main character vibes, but would I really be an antagonist?” The girl laughed, getting the shoe from the ground and turning to him.

“Wow, you know High School Musical?” Ignoring her question, the Canadian walked closer to them, a teddy bear and a piece of paper in his hands.

“I'm not as childhood-less as you think I am,” Mae flipped her hair off her shoulder as a habit and went back to the 'throwing' stance. “Now shush, we have a TikTok to make”

“Very modern Sharpay-esk of you,” Kevin rebutted and walked behind Haknyeon. “Tilt your chin down a little, we can see up your nose”

“Also, try to throw the shoe up more, and then bring up your leg to meet it halfway on its way down” Refocusing the phone, Haknyeon restarted the countdown. Yet once again, when he pressed play, another interruption happened.

This time, Juyeon and Younghoon walked down the hallway, hitting some lockers out of boredom, but startling the girl in the process before she could even let go of the red heel in her hand.

“Wait, that came out funny, save it, so we don't lose it” Kevin said while Haknyeon fully let go of himself on the ground while laughing at the two-second clip of the girl going from posing to flinching.

“What's going on over here?” Younghoon asked, curious at Mae's annoyed face and the two boys rolling on the ground. He frowned with Juyeon as she gave them a side eye and carefully tapped the front of her sneaker onto Haknyeon's arm.

“Let's go, we should have done this by now”

“Who would have thought making a TikTok would take this long” Breathing out, the boy and returned the camera to her.

“That's because Sunwoo isn't here. Sometimes he takes hours only to make a clip of the video,” Juyeon said, walking closer to the boys and crouching on the floor next to them. Apparently more concerned on what was going on than just seeing what would happen. “So, which trend is it? Are you going to upload it to promote the video or for the actual thing?”

“It's for the switch part of the music video. I recorded one already, so they're going to pair it with this one we're doing. You know that trend where you throw the shoe up and change clothes?” Haknyeon patiently started explaining, but stopped once the girl sighed out loud.

“I'm going to throw this shoe on you four if we take any five more minutes to get this clip” Mae held out the heel at them and side glance Younghoon when he mumbled “Four? What did I do?”

“Okay. We're doing it for good now. Let's go, three... two... one. There we go” Haknyeon lowered the phone pleased and watched the replay before turning the screen to her who kneeled in front of him. “Save it in the drafts and once your outfit changes, call me to shoot the next part”

“I don't know, we can do it again?” Mae watched his face drop and smiled apologetically, “I look kinda ugly in this one”.

“That's the point of the trend, though. You'll be beautiful once the shoe lands and the 'glow up' happens” Kevin rolled his eyes at her, raising one eyebrow at him and Juyeon intervened by reassuring she looked good.

“Mae, we need to shoot your part over here,” One of the managers waved from the end of the hallway, and the girl's shoulders dropped.

“Guess we'll have to stick with this one, then” She got up, brushing her knees, but got stopped by Kevin holding out the teddy bear and sticker at her.

“Here, they told me to give these to you. I guess they are your props,” The Canadian winked as Mae walked away and unfolded the note she would have to hold out to the camera. In pretty calligraphy and pink gel pens, she giggled at the quote.

“TheB, I couldn't 'bear' going on without u as my date”

[shadowgeist-stars]

Ren x Gakushu: Nightmares

Ren was standing in the Chairman's office, watching the man pace around him, Araki, Seo, and Koyama with practiced, measured steps. His words were almost entirely unintelligible, but his voice was just like always. The same eerie, low tenor that made his skin try to crawl off his body, like he suddenly had some kind of flesh-eating disease.

Suddenly the monster struck. A huge fleshy mass with eyes so big that they overlapped one another on its face. A mouth so wide and sharply fanged that it could swallow anyone whole and shred them apart in its jaws anyway. Before he knew it, there was an agonizing sting at the back of his head and the better part of his back. Ren was somehow thrown against the wall, pain tearing against his sternum and surrounding ligaments making it nearly impossible to breathe. The others were no different, as if they were flung just as woefully unprepared into the same MMA fight that he was in.

Then he realized all of their bodies hadn't even moved.

For all intents and purposes, their minds had been violently punted from each of their bodies, leaving them as empty shells that did nothing but chant an insatiable desire to kill E-Class. If Ren didn't have trouble breathing before, he was all but suffocating now. It only got worse when Gakushu reentered the room, only to call out to Ren and the others in horror. The mix of anger, disgust, and outright fear with which he stared at his father and his pet beast nearly wrenched his racing heart clear out of his chest.

“Gakushu, please… I'm right here…”

He forced his ghostly form to stand up. Dizziness spun his vision every which way. His shaking feet didn't feel anything close to steady as he tried to stumble toward his friend. The monster over the principal's shoulder only pounced again, painfully crushing his throat in its clawed grip as he could only face that menacing, unnatural grin. Darkness was beginning to dot his vision as it blurred with tears. He reached helplessly for his best friend with whatever vanishing strength he had left, as it all went cold and dark and --

Ren's eyes shot open with a gasp, heart pounding and breathing as if he'd just endured one of Gakushu's soccer games. He lay frozen and tense in his bed, clutching his bed covers and staring at nothing but his own bedroom floor as he slowly willed himself to calm down.

After he finally deemed himself calmed from the nightmare, (and telling himself that No, panic-brain, my blazer that I keep hung on my door is not a monster that's here to kill me) he sat up in his bed and checked the time on his alarm clock.

Only a few minutes after 3 o’clock, in the morning.

Ren grimaced to himself, running a hand through his stupid bedhead. Either Seo or Koyama would probably laugh about some kind of joke related to the time that he’s almost certain he’d rather not hear. However, he just thought it was too darn early to be up, even with something like a very graphic memory/nightmare to blame.

The principal monster from his nightmare flashed behind his eyes, in its own twisted "speak of the devil." What better way of being told by one's own brain that going back to sleep at that moment was not an option?

…Maybe a cup of tea or something warm (and uncaffeinated) would settle him down enough to help.

With a sigh, he got out of bed, pulled on a shirt, and headed to the kitchen.

He knew the house well enough that he didn't have to turn on the lights. He knew every place where the floors creaked, exactly where to stick to the walls and where to simply keep a light foot. The tiny nightlights in the halls kept it just visible enough that one didn't have to stumble around in complete darkness.

Many years ago, traversing his house at night was a game to Ren. One where his eyes sported beams of light to help him see. A game in which the dark wasn’t a monster to fear, but his playmate.

When he reached the kitchen, he breathed a soft sigh of relief. He grabbed a mug from the dish cabinet, but before he could do anything else, he noticed a light.

Light that was coming from the living room TV, partly shadowed by a figure on the couch.

Ren had a feeling he knew who that was. Guess I’m not the only one having a rough night.

With that in mind, he grabbed a second mug before pulling the jar of dried chamomile from the back of a different cabinet, fixing some tea with it.

The person on the couch didn’t respond to any noise he made, which meant one of two things: he was either quite aware of his presence and simply waiting for Ren to reveal himself, or he was out of it to the point of somehow not noticing the brunette was even there.

With someone like Gakushu Asano, there was no in-between with those two possibilities.

The moment the tea was ready, Ren poured it into the two mugs, a small voice in the back of his mind reminding him to put some sugar in Gakushu’s mug. He likes his tea sweetened a little. It’ll help him calm down more easily if he’s tense or had a nightmare, and right now he's possibly both.

He glanced at whatever he was watching on TV, which was turned down so low he couldn’t quite hear it. A documentary: his go-to for calming down from a bad dream. Crime or historic ones usually mean something relatively tame. But this one’s a nature documentary; he only goes to those things when it’s really bad.

The taller boy took a deep breath before heading over, humming a familiar tune and making sure to seek out the one floorboard he knew would creak. A word of advice from a friend, so as to not scare him once in his line of sight.

The redhead made an almost unnoticeable jolt before bright purple eyes met his. (So he really was out of it to a point he didn't know I was there, or at least hyperfixating on the TV.) He was wrapped in a throw blanket and had his legs laid across the length of the couch; he was probably planning on sleeping there if he was able to calm down enough.

“Ren… How long have you been up?” he asked, shifting around to sit properly on the sofa.

He chuckled, setting down the mugs on the coffee table until he was sitting down beside his boyfriend. “Obviously not as long as you.” His smile became a frown when he got no snarky response. “Nightmares keeping you up, too, huh?”

The shorter boy only nodded once, taking his mug when it was offered. “I hoped to be able to sleep again, after getting my mind off of it… And I didn’t expect to be discovered."

Ren hummed, sipping his own beverage. "…It was the brainwashing incident on my end… Araki saying it felt like an out-of-body experience was pretty accurate."

The ginger didn't seem too surprised. "…It was partially that exact incident for myself… and also the immediate aftermath of the pole-toppling match. I still find it hard to forget how badly Kevin and the other exchange students were injured, because of him… it was so severe that they all had to return to their home countries, once they'd recovered enough to do so."

The others didn’t hear much of that when it happened beyond when the paramedics showed up at the school. At the time, they all knew better than to ask while the wound was still fresh. Then again, it wasn’t like he would’ve been coherent enough to elaborate on the situation anyway, given how he fell asleep on the ride home.

"Least they don't have to worry about him hurting them again now…" he replied finally, "or anyone, to be honest. Especially not you." He pulled the strawberry blond boy into his side. "I think you remember well enough… how worried I was when he hit you in front of everybody."

The shorter boy’s exhale reverberated with exhaustion as his head drooped on his lover’s shoulder, followed by the sound of him emptying his mug. “Not as much as I wish I did… but at the same time more than I care to admit. It’s exhausting just thinking about it.”

The brunette smiled sadly at the sheer amount of fatigue in his tone, giving his shoulder a squeeze before finishing his own drink. "All the same, we can say that we're safe from him, and that in itself means a lot… By the way, I would've been alright with you coming over to my room after you woke up from your nightmare."

That only earned him a sleepy, yet sour look. "Why would I do that? I'm not a toddler, Ren."

The brunette snickered, using a thumb and index finger to get the other to face him. "Maybe not, but it's not childish to be afraid or need someone else, even for just a little company. Haven't you felt any better since I came out here?"

Gakushu tried to avert his face. "I suppose you could say that…"

Begrudging victory; I'll take it.

He smiled as he leaned in to kiss the shorter boy. He slipped his tongue in easily, tasting the chamomile's aftermath and practically feeling the remnants of Gakushu's tension and traces of his own nightmare disappear into the documentary's white noise. The ginger all but melted into his arms, the long and lazy kiss bearing down on his eyelids with sleep in a wave of honeyed warmth. Pulling away showed a pair of hazy purple eyes struggling to open again, on an adorable, blushing face.

“I love you, Gakushu; sweet dreams.”

The shorter boy gave a slow, cat-like blink, snuggling further against the taller boy. “Hmm… love you too… Ren…”

Ren chuckled at his slurred speech as he took Gakushu's empty mug from his hands, placing it and his own mug on the coffee table. Afterwards he turned off the TV, pulling Gakushu along as he shifted them around, until they were now both laying sideways on the couch, with a red-haired head on his chest. He managed to resituate the throw blanket over them both, draping long arms over his beloved; one settling across his waist, the other scratching his scalp in rhythmic circles.

He leaned into the crevice between the couch cushion and backrest with a contented sigh. With the weight and warmth of his boyfriend in his arms and the steady whispering breeze of breath in his ears and over his chest, the image of the former principal and the big-eyed monster was nothing more than a fading memory. They were both safe here, in this homey little bubble. Pressing a final kiss to his boyfriend's crown, he laid his own head down and closed his eyes, letting sleep carry him away on a far more welcoming cloud.

It wasn’t the first time they had such nightmares, and it may well be far from the last, but for now, they could sleep without fear, and that was enough.

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Cheryl//this is me trying

Request: Can I request a season 1 cheryl x reader. Cheryl always protects reader from people and r is shy but falls in love with the redhead and some who’s accidentally tells her while she’s having a bad day but cheryl is quick to reassure her then they cuddle after going to pops or something and it’s just fluffy.

hey! happy valentines day gays! and get you, two imagines in one day, it must be the day of love. i hope you all like this because it’s really fluffy and i enjoyed writing this a lot!

Overnight, Riverdale became a shell of its former self. Two months since Kevin Keller and Moose Mason stumbled upon the body of Jason Blossom, and nobody has been the same since. 

The town is riddled with secrets, they’re slowly destroying it like a disease. Nobody trusts anybody anymore, everyone is on high alert, and everyone is a suspect. 

Cheryl usually loves being the centre of attention, she has done ever she was a kid. It’s something that comes naturally with being a twin, you share everything and as much as she loves loved the shared birthdays and friends, she has always loved being the centre of attention.

Now however, she hates it. Her life is a true crime documentary at the minute, and all she wants is for the killer to be caught so the crew can pack up and leave and she no longer has to stare down at the blinding lights being cast over her and her family. 

The only thing that’s kept her sane over the past two months, is you. Despite everything happening, despite the murder and the secrets and the suspicion, you’ve stuck by her side. You were with her when they found the body, and you haven’t really left since. 

The two of you are unlikely friends, she’s Cheryl. Bright and bold and never one to back down from confrontation. But you’re Y/n, sweet and shy and always the first to shrink away from any sort of attention directed at you. 

She knows you hate the constant attention recently, it’s something you get used when you’re best friends with the victim’s sister, but not once have you complained. 

You’ve being questioned by police, journalists and strangers on the internet. You’ve had camera’s shoved in your face on your walk back from school and been asked countless questions about what you know about the Blossom’s. And you’ve also been offered ridiculous amounts of money in order to talk. But no matter what happens, you always just rush past them and join Cheryl, who’s always waiting for you with a sad smile and warm hand. 

Due to the constant hoard of vultures swarming Riverdale High, the two of you had to figure out somewhere else to meet after school so you could walk the long way home. It adds twenty minutes to your walk, but it’s not that well known around town, meaning people can’t bother you. 

Plus, the extra twenty minutes that you get to spend with Cheryl isn’t the worst thing. It’s the opposite in fact. It’s the thing you look forward to, even if you are looking over your shoulder every so often 

But today you’re not at your meeting spot. 

When Cheryl pushes her way through the stares of her fellow students with you and only you on her mind and makes her way through the school basement, back up the stairs and out of the fire exit, you’re not waiting for her with a smile that makes her feel warm and a cold slice of pizza you snuck out of the cafe earlier. 

The only thing waiting for her is a full bin and an empty field. 

“Y/n?” She calls out and looks around the corner. She’s met with three seniors, all of which are smoking with absolutely no care for being caught. 

“She’s not here.” One of them says, her blonde hair and large glasses cover half of her face and Cheryl forces a smile. 

“Hey, Blossom.” A boy says and Cheryl freezes. Who knows what they want, but whatever it is, it probably won’t be nice. It’ll probably be something along the lines of ‘hey, did you kill your brother’ and no matter how many times she’s asked that, it doesn’t get any easier. “Maybe try the bleachers.” He says, ending his sentence with a sympathetic smile and Cheryl nods slowly, not really sure what to say. 

“Thanks.” She forces and spins on her heel. 

“We’re sorry about your brother, Cheryl.” The blonde one says and she turns around again. Each of them look sad, with matching frowns and sorrow swimming in their eyes. 

Jason meant the world to Cheryl, but he also meant a hell of a lot to other people too. And that’s when it hits her. Of course you’re at the bleachers. 

For some bizarre reason, only known by your father. You and your family used to come along every other week to watch the Bulldogs play. For a while you thought it was because your dad was trying to get you and your brother into football and this was a lot cheaper than the actual game, but the older you got the more you figured it was because he was just trying to relive his youth. For 90 minutes he could pretend that he was quarterback again and for those 90 minutes your dad would be the happiest he’d been all week. 

Then one week, a redhead sat beside you. In clothes that were far too expensive to be worn to a high school football game. Her parents looked like they wanted to be there as much as she did, but then a boy with matching red hair ran out on to the pitch and you’d never seen a smile quite like it. 

After that, you made sure to sit beside her at every game. And then one day she sat opposite you at lunch. The first few times she was alone, but then soon she began to appear with a group of other girls, but you were the only one she’d talk to. 

Eventually lunch times and football games turned into group projects and sleepovers. You spend hours braiding her hair and listening to her tell you stories of other worlds and the creatures that live in them. You’d sneak down the dark and creepy halls of Thornhill in hopes of finding a midnight snack, and instead be met by Jason and your older brother in clown masks. 

Eventually, you found a different way to get to the kitchen, one that Jason didn’t know about. And when he’d come looking for you, both of you would jump out  and chase him around the house, much to the dismay of Penelope and Clifford. 

Those bleachers are what started a whole friendship, not only between you and her, but also you and Jason. When you’re brother eventually made the team, thanks to a good word put in my Jason, despite him being a year younger. Him and Jason became as inseparable as you and Cheryl and so it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence to see the four of you hanging out. It also meant that if Cheryl was busy, you and Jason would hang out until she finished whatever she was doing. 

Grief is a hell of a lonely thing, and sometimes Cheryl forgets that other people miss Jason too. With everything going on, she didn’t even think about how you were doing. With all the questions, accusations and crying that constantly fills Cheryl’s house. She never even asked how you were. 

And now her legs can’t carry her quick enough to were she hopes your sat. Because she’s already lost her brother, she can’t lose you too. She wobbles as her heels dig into the dirt, kicking up dust and mud as she runs across the field. Her hair swings behind her, and she can feel the red scrunchie loosen the quicker she runs. 

The bleachers have all sorts carved into them. Initials in hearts, some of them still there, some of them crossed out so aggressively that it’s a miracle they didn’t chop it in half. There’s inside jokes and ridiculous rumours. Codes and dates and everything in between. 

But something new has been added in the past few days. 

cheryl murdered jason

and y/n helped

The writing is small and barely legible, but it’s there and the more you run your fingers over it the more it carves itself into your heart. 

“Y/n?” Cheryl pants breathlessly and you quickly pull yourself away from it. Instead you stand up properly and pull the sleeves of your sweater down over your hands. The y/f/c scrunchie remains still in your hair and Cheryl has to stare at it for a few seconds to calm herself down. “You weren’t at our spot.” She says quietly and you close your eyes. 

You let her down. You let her down. You always let her down.  

“Sorry Cheryl.” You sigh and sit down in the dirt. Cheryl looks around before sitting beside you. “I just wanted some space.” You add and force yourself to look at her. 

The sun sits behind her, but even that doesn’t seem as bright as it used to be. Nothing is what it used to be. For the past two months, you’ve been told that thats a good thing. But what’s good about someone you loved being dead. What’s good about watching someone else you love go through life but not really live. 

Cheryl just exists. 

But she exists for you. 

Because as lost as she would be without you, she knows you would be just as lost without her. 

It’s an unspoken rule now, you always text each other when you wake up and before you go to sleep. It’s something you used to do anyway, but now you make a point not to forget. Because forgetting means that the worst could have happened, and that’s something neither of you can bare to deal with. 

“I get it.” She nods. “I was just worried that’s all.” She adds, trying to sound as casual as she can. But on the inside she’s screaming. Because she thought you had died, she thought whoever had killed Jason had gotten to you too, and the whole reason you’re both dead is because she wronged the wrong person. 

There’s a lot of people that don’t like Cheryl, being unliked comes naturally to her. But she doesn’t know how she’ll cope if she’s so unlikeable someone she loves died. 

She has no idea why your friends with her to be honest. She saw you staring at her at a football game once. But it wasn’t a stare she was used to. It wasn’t cold like her mothers or jealous like her friends. No, this was nice. You were staring at her like you wanted to know about her, like when you looked at her, you saw a friend not someone to be feared. 

And so Cheryl clung onto the tiny hint of friendship, the crack of a door into something that could happen, and she shoved herself through it. It worked, and now you’re the only person she’s nice to. She’s mean to everyone else, she calls them names and teases them, especially when they’re rude to you...but you stay. And she has no idea why, but she’s not going to wish it away. 

“Shit, sorry Cheryl.” You drop your head into your hands and Cheryl looks at you confused. She looks around, not really sure of what to do. “I didn’t think, God knows what you thought had happened.” You ramble and she realizes you’re crying. Her eyes widen and you look at her, your eyes red and puffed and your lips pulls into frown. 

“It’s okay.” She replies and wraps her arms around you. You bury your head into her neck, the smell of maple and cherries invade your senses and you let out a shaky breath. 

It smells like home and happier times, and you want to crawl into those happy memories and never come back out. “I was just being ridiculous.” She tries to play it off, to make it seem like she couldn’t feel her heartbeat in her throat and the ringing in her ears. Pretend like it didn’t feel like someone had pulled her heart out and stamped on it. 

“No, no you weren’t. I’m really sorry.” You sob and wrap your arms around her. She falls into your neck, surprised but not upset with how tight you’re holding her. She never wants you to let go. But of course she has to, and so however reluctant, she untangles herself from you and lets out a deep sigh. 

“I’m sorry.” You sniffle. She hands you a tissue and you wipe your eyes with it before scrunching it up in your hand. “I’ve just had a rubbish day. Somebody shoved this in my locker.” You frown and pull a balled up piece of paper out of your pocket. 

Cheryl’s eyebrows knit in confusion as she takes it from you, her fingers graze yours and you freeze for a few seconds. 

who do you think did it? 

cheryl __

y/n __

Jamie __

“Why is your brother on here?” Cheryl asks, her voice rising with each word and you rest your hand on top of hers to calm her down. 

“I dunno.” You shrug. “Your parents are on there too.” You add and point further down the page. 

“What a bunch of dicks.” She grumbles and crumples it up. “Do you know who it was?” You shrug and she sighs. 

“I’ve just gotten tired of the staring and the whispers. So I thought I’d just have five minutes peace before going home and having to listen to Jamie cry in his room but pretend he’s okay. Or for my parents to walk on eggshells around both of us. Neither of them know what to say, and because of that they keep saying the wrong thing.” You ramble and she listens intently, trying her best to find a resolution to all of your problems. 

Unfortunately, she doesn’t know the answer to everything, no matter what her mom says. 

“I just thought five minutes by myself can’t be terrible. But then I came down here and someone carve-well it doesn’t matter what they wrote. What matters is that I made you worry at the worst possible time in your life. I hurt you, and I’m really sorry. Believe me, hurting you is the last thing I want to do you. I feel sick even just thinking about it. I never, ever want to hurt you. I love you too much. I love you more that I’ve ever loved anything or anyone ever. I just love yo-” Your eyes widen when you realize what you’ve just admitted to. 

You don’t want to look at her, but she hasn’t said anything in a while and that’s strange for her. So you force yourself to look at her, expecting the worst. Expecting disgust, disappointment, betrayal. But it’s none of those. 

Instead she’s smiling. And she looks actually happy. Something you haven’t seen in so long, something you’re glad to see, despite the circumstances. 

Oh yeah, you’ve just told her you’re in love with her. What do you say after that? 

“I-er-”

“Y/n?” She cuts you off before you get the chance to ruin the moment. She’s known you for long enough to know that when you get nervous, you ramble and when you ramble you say weird things. 

You’re grateful for her cutting you off, usually if she talks over you, it annoys the hell out of you. But this time it’s welcomed and she stifles a small laugh and the sigh of relief you let out. 

But the next thing she says is something that you weren’t expecting, but you’re sure as hell grateful for. 

“Would you like to go on a date?” 

---

The red lights from outside, illuminate Cheryl’s pale face in the night, painting her in a reddish hue and you find yourself staring at her for far longer than would be considered normal. 

Lucky for you, she hasn’t noticed. She doesn’t seem to be paying attention to anything, not really anyway. Instead she stares down at her food, pushing a few fries around the plate and anxiety rises in your chest. 

She’s already regretting doing this. She’s made a mistake and now she doesn’t know how to let you down gently. 

She seems to sense you nerves because she’s looking at you quickly, a sad smile twitching at her lips.

“Sorry, I just. Jason always used to tease me about the two of us. It’s the only thing we’d take about sometimes. He’d constantly ask me if I’d asked you out yet. And every time I would say ‘no, we’re just friends’ but, well neither of us really believed that.” She says, a small laugh escapes her lips near the end, but she quickly shuts it off. It’s too soon for her to be laughing, too soon for her to be happy. 

“Yeah.” You nod and finish your drink. “He used to tease me too. ‘if you don’t tell her, I’ll do it myself’.” You mimic his voice and a ghost of a smile twitches at her lips as she forces herself to look at you. “I am really glad you did ask me though.” Your voice shakes a little with nerves and Cheryl stares at you confused. “I do really like you Cheryl.” 

“I really like you too.” She smiles softly and you stare at her lips. Sometimes you think the red lipstick has permanently stained her lips cherry red. Even when you guys are a sleepover, she still has bright red lips and the other part of you wonders if that’s just what they look like. 

“Hey.” You start and a sly smile twitches at your lips as you remember an old memory. She leans forward, excited to know what you’re smiling about. 

It could literally be anything, from a musty old book she let you borrow from the Thornhill archive, to a new tv show you started to watch. But whatever it is, she’s excited to hear you talk about it. 

“Can you remember last year. It was Jamie’s 16th birthday and you and Jason were invited over. Jason was there because him and Jamie were planning on sneaking out later that night, and you tagged along so you could keep me company.” You start and she smiles at the memory. 

The four of you sat in the living room, while your mom brought cake and your dad sang ‘happy birthday’. Cheryl remembers how happy she was, and she remembers talking to Jason afterwards, the two of them whispering and wondering if that was what a normal family was supposed to look like. 

You, Cheryl and Jason had each pitched in for the record player he wanted. And even though you all knew that just Cheryl alone could have been able to buy him it if she really wanted, you knew they split it for you. 

Jamie was ecstatic when he opened the box, and then all of the records you’d bought to go with it. He’d played it every single day since getting it, but now you haven’t heard it in months.

“Yeah.” She nods, a sad smiling taking over he face. “Can you remember when Jason pushed his face into the cake.” She adds making you snort a laugh. 

The bell above Pop’s rings and Betty and Archie walk in. They send you a sympathetic smile before sitting at their own booth, and you and Cheryl share a look. 

“Would you like another one?” You point at her milkshake and she nods, smiling shyly. 

---

The walk home is over far too soon, and it’s only when you’re standing on your porch do you realize you took the normal way home by accident. Either the media has gone to sleep, or people are starting to forget about Jason and Riverdale. 

That thought makes you frown and Cheryl watches your expression falter before you look back at her again. 

“Thank you for walking me home.” You smile shyly and a nervous laugh escapes her lips. 

“It’s no problem.” She shrugs and the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds longer than normal. She’s about to leave when you grab her hand and spin her around to face you. 

She’s surprised for a second, until suddenly she feels a pair of lips on hers, and then the only thing she can feel is them. Everything else disappears, and though the kiss is short and a little awkward, it’s still perfect. 

“Would you like to come in?” You ask and motion your head to large wooden door. The pain is chipped around the metal numbers, something your mom has nagged your dad about for the past 6 months. “We still have the rest of y/f/s to watch.” 

“I’d love to.” She nods and the two of you grin at each other. “But seriously, how many times have you seen that now?” 

“It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen it.” You unlock the front door, giving it a quick kick before you stumble through it. “What matters is that this is the first time you’re seeing it.” You add and she rolls her eyes but follows you up the stairs anyway. 

The sun sets over another day in Riverdale and darkness floods the town. The streets are cold and scary, but wrapped in your duvet and Cheryl’s arms, you’ve never felt warmer. 

[fairyoftbz]

Tournesol | Changmin

🌻 pairing: shy florist!changmin x fem!reader (briefs mentions of barista!Jacob & tattoo artist!Kevin) 🌻 genre: fluff, slow-burn, strangers-to-lovers (?) 🌻 word count: 3.1k 🌻 synopsis: you are new in town so you decide to explore a bit of your neighbourhood. You never knew that the flower shop down your street would change your life in a good way.  🌻 requested? : yes, thank you so much! ✨ 🌻 A/N: here comes my first ever post for my first personal project! thank you to the anon who requested this and i hope you’ll like it! constructive feedback is always welcomed in my dms or my asks!  I will write the English translation of the French word I used in that way. PS: If anyone wants to be tagged on my future posts for this project, please let me know !!

Locking the front door of the brand-new apartment you had just moved into, you pulled down your light coat’s sleeve after dropping your keys in your little cross-body bag. You walked down the few flights of stairs that separated you from the entrance hall, quickly checking if you had any mail and walked out the door as it was found empty.

Today was your lucky day because the wind stopped blowing right before you woke up, and the sun decided to show up as you were enjoying your breakfast, making you finish it on the little balcony right outside your living room. You couldn’t ask for a better start of the day, the light mood and warm atmosphere bringing nothing but a huge smile on your face.

You greeted the old lady with a wave and a bow as she was swiping the entrance of the bakery, wishing her a great day as you kept your route.

__

Two weeks ago, as you were moving in, the baker happened to be with her son and some of his friends, and instead of helping her serve the bakery customers, she sent them over to your place as she knew who you were, since you visited her place in a rush the day before. She seemed to have the gift of the gab because she was quick to ask if you were new around the neighbourhood. You remember being surprised by her behaviour and politely answered, but you were glad that you had this conversation with her. You weren’t even halfway through your move that the 4 boys appeared in the entrance hall, offering their help. Feeling a bit suspicious at first, you kindly refused, but when one of them offered you a smile extremely similar to the baker and introduced himself as her son, you finally gave in and accepted their help.  

The amount of time you had planned for your move got reduced by almost three thanks to them. They followed your orders like no one else, and once they were done moving the boxes around the rooms and left, you quickly went to the local convenience store you had spotted at the other street corner and bought 4 bottles and some chocolate for them. You walked by the bakery the following day, and the son happened to work here, replacing his mother while she was at a doctor’s appointment. He was touched by your small gifts, and he made sure to call his friends to come over and get them while you slipped away from the bakery to go to IKEA. Before you got to leave, he advised you to take a few walks around the neighbourhood to get to know your surroundings. You wished you could have followed his advice earlier, but you were busy with moving in and get ready for your interviews that could lead you to potential jobs.

But today was the weekend and you decided to take some time for yourself and follow the advice of the baker's son. It was a beautiful day, and you had planned to make the most of it to get familiar with your neighbourhood.

__

Your area was surprisingly calm to be in the middle of the city, but you weren’t going to complain since it was something you were dying to have: a friendly, quiet neighbourhood. The nice smell of the bakery lingered around you as you walked past the building, following you until you turned at a corner, leading you to a new, unknown street. Some shop windows were beautifully decorated, and you mentally took some notes of the various local shops that could become potentially useful one day. You walked past a china shop, staying for a few seconds to admire the detailed and precise work displayed in the window display. Offering a smile to the young lady inside the store, you walked away and looked around, noticing something that caught your attention on the opposite pavement. You quickly checked as no car drove by and crossed the street, smiling as two shops were the polar opposite of the other. The flower shop in front of you was sweet, it smelt delicate and chic, just like flowers. The walls were covered by some off-white roughcast, adding a soft touch to it.

A few meters away, on the left of the flower shop, was a tattoo parlour. You giggled as you noticed the cliche that emanated from the two places. The parlour was covered in black, with a Gothic, biker style, posters of metal and rock music pasted around the walls, hardcore music blasting from the speakers, completely contrasting with the softness and the sobriety of the flower shop. A tattoo artist appeared behind the counter that was situated next to the window and your eyes widened, trying to quickly count the number of tattoos and piercings that was decorating his body. A single front piece of hair was dyed blond among the other jet-black strands, his warm smile standing out from the rest of his physical appearance.

You turned your head to the side as you focused on the flower shop, its atmosphere suiting you better despite the next-door shop spiking up your interest. You smiled at the yellow Beetle parked in front of it and pushed the door open after a few seconds of consideration, a small bell tingling as it hit the glass door.

The smell of pollen and freshly cut flowers welcomed you in, the intensity of the colours making you slightly dazed. They were all gorgeous, the arrangements giving you an impulsion to buy a bouquet of each flower they had in store, but that would never happen.

“Welcome!” a voice from under the counter greeted you, a man appearing behind it a few seconds later, secateurs in hand. You smiled as you greeted him back, charmed by how similar he was to his store, soft and friendly. He stayed behind the counter, watching you walk around his shop, all of his other activities and tasks were instantly forgotten as soon as you stepped a foot inside his store.

Changmin was amazed by your smile, finding you incredibly beautiful, his heart hammering in his chest at the sight of your admiring smile creeping across your lips. He was dying to talk to you and get to know you, but he knew himself, he was most likely going to make a fool of himself if he ever dared to exchange some words with you. He was already pleasantly surprised that he had managed to welcome you without getting in a muddle or stumbling on his words.

With a slightly shaking hand, he diagonally cut the end of the red roses resting on the counter. He couldn’t help but glance at you, which you didn't notice, luckily for him. However, by paying too much attention to you and your gorgeous smile, he began to cut the stems a little too rapidly and too high, alas once pinching a piece of skin between the pruning blades, making him jump in pain and let go of the gardening tool. Changmin stifled a groan of pain and rushed into the back office, looking for the first aid kit. He hurriedly found a sticking plaster and wrapped it around his cut, pressing on the wound to ease the pain and get back to work as quickly as possible.

As he reappeared in the doorway that separated the back office from the front office, he heard the bell above the door chime again, signalling your departure.

His shoulders subsided and he watched you walk away with a disappointed pout. He sighed in sadness and pushed the roses away, nervousness and guilt fuelling his mind and regrets.

"Shit," he sighed, picking up the wilted petals of a few roses that were littered on the floor, shoving them into the front pocket of his apron. He blamed himself for not having spoken to you to at least know your name. Quickly, Changmin walked around the counter to door, showing the “now-closed” store sign as remorse flooded his veins. He let his feet guide every single one of his moves, now finding himself in the storeroom. He took a pencil and his notebook sticking out of his bag before returning to the counter.

Closing his eyes, he tried to remember your face and began a sketch. He erased a line, then two, then several, feeling the frustration overcome him as the portrait did not correspond to what he had seen a few minutes earlier at all. Changmin had a perfect image of you in his mind, but maybe the stress of forgetting you or his shaking hands prevented him from replicating your gorgeous face on paper.

Completely unaware of what was going on behind those four walls, you kept on walking around the neighbourhood until your feet hurt and decided to go back to your apartment.

__

The next morning you enjoyed the rays of sunlight that your curtains had failed to filter for a few minutes, smiling shyly as you remembered seeing the florist appearing in your dreams. He was here, you recognised his face, but you couldn't hear what he was saying. He sounded extremely sincere and filled with love, but it was probably just your lonely mind playing tricks on you. You decided to get up, a sudden urge for pastry invading your thoughts, your stomach growling at the sudden idea. After dressing appropriately for going out, you walked through your doorstep and walked leisurely to your favourite bakery. The baker was sitting on a chair on the small terrace of her shop, sipping tea with who appeared to be her husband.

"Morning Sir. Ma'am," you bowed, greeting them warmly, the baker hurriedly setting down her tea mug to gently grab your wrist. "Dear, this is the young lady Jacob and his friends helped move in the brick building, around the street corner that I told you about. Remember that?" she explained to her husband, who took the time to swallow his sip while nodding. "Ah, the bottle of wine and the chocolate," he says looking at you and you smiled, as it was your turn to nod. "That's right," you stated, holding out your hand for him to squeeze, which he did delicately. “Thanks again,” you told them, and the baker waved her hand in front of her face, a genuine smile on her face. "Oh please, don’t worry about it, it's okay," she declared, and you thanked them again before entering their bakery. Jacob was behind the counter chatting with an old lady who seemed to waylay him. He noticed you and apologised to her, seeing him sigh before greeting you. Jacob was a sweet man, always ready to help everyone and too nice to say no. Talking and getting to know him was a piece of cake, he was so nice to hang out with and a gem to have around.

"Y/N, hello! What can I get you?" he offered you a beautiful smile, which he got from his mother, noticing another time the striking similarity with the old woman on the terrace. "I'm going to get a baguette and one of those," you say, pointing at a pain au chocolat sprinkled with powdered sugar in the little window that separated you from the young man. He smiled and grabbed a metal clamp, placing the pastry in a paper bag. Typing a few things on the machine, you handed him a banknote and he gave you back the change, along with your pastries. You thanked him and started to leave when a familiar figure stood at a table against the window.

Changmin was quietly drinking his coffee when he heard a conversation start from outside the window. He almost spat out the liquid he had in his mouth when he saw you talking with the owners of the bakery, his eyes widening at the sight of you. He pursed his lips to stifle a smile and continued to drink his coffee, tapping on his phone screen. His heart was hammering harder, faster, in his chest as he tried to keep a low profile, lowering his head in case you were to curiously look around the place. He sighed through gritted teeth when he heard your complicity with Jacob, feeling a touch of jealousy pinching his heart without intending to. Changmin nervously finished his cup of coffee in one sip, the warm liquid burning his throat, not bothering looking up. Stuffing his phone in his jacket pocket, he was ready to go when he saw you still in the store, immediately freezing as his brown eyes met your sparkling ones.

"Hello!" you told him with a smile, waving discreetly with one hand while the other clutched the brown bag against you. He blinked several times, your beauty and kindness bouncing around his skull. He answered you with a brief, serious nod and walked away without even saying goodbye to his friend behind the counter. You watched him leave out the window before turning to Jacob, who was looking at you with a thin smile on his lips. "Did I say something wrong?" you asked him, and he exhaled a laugh through his nose, shaking his head from side to side. "Not at all. Changmin is just a very shy person sometimes," he said, and you nodded, still a bit confused from the florist's behaviour, but you said nothing and walked out of the store after wishing for a good day to Jacob. The latter smiled as you walked in the opposite direction from Changmin, greeting another customer as he understood his friend’s behaviour.

__

A week passed and it was time for you to start your new job. You had used up a good chunk of your last salary to pay for furniture and taxes which you barely remembered the names of, so you needed to have a new entrance of income. You applied to a real estate agency that wasn't far from where you live, as a financial chief director, exactly what you worked at in your previous city. You had to walk past the florist to get to your new workplace, but the florist was the only closed shop on the whole street, which surprised you. You had the opportunity to talk a little more with Jacob, and he had confessed to you that Changmin loved his job and was a flower enthusiast, which confirmed your concern when you didn't see his store open.

A smile grew on your face at the end of the day, when you took the same path as this morning, seeing the shop illuminated. When you had assembled your furniture, you remembered that you wanted to decorate your apartment with more greenery and flowers. Seizing the opportunity that the florist was still open, you pushed open that same door you had walked through a few weeks ago, the same wonderful smell and tinkling bell welcoming you inside.

You noticed a brown chunk of hair behind a large, flowered wall, immediately recognising Changmin's slender figure. You heard him clear his throat as he hummed a tune, arranging a bouquet.

Changmin heard a customer walk into his store and finished his bouquet of sunflowers and red roses before revealing himself, his eyes opening widely as he discovered your innocent smile and your office outfit. The pencil skirt and beige suit you wore made his heart fuzzy with warmth, his mind only filled with how pretty you looked.

“Good evening,” you greeted him, and he nodded, swallowing his saliva before answering you. "Welcome," he said, his husky, uncertain voice melting your heart. He managed to smile, finding dimples growing in the corners of his mouth, he was handsome when he was smiling with reddened ears. "I would like to know if you have any flowers or plants to recommend to decorate my apartment," you clear your throat before telling him your request. "May I ask the colour of your walls?" he asked in a hesitant voice, looking everywhere around the shop except you. "White, cream, and some in greyish tones as well," you explained and he nodded mechanically, looking through his stock.

"I can suggest you some dried pampas grass with cotton stems. It's... quite sober and low maintenance," he walked around the counter and you followed, his hands grabbing a few stems which he gathered under your nose. You liked the harmony of the two plants, you already had an idea where to put these at your place. "I like them a lot, I'll take a bouquet," you stated, and he nodded, giving you a small smile as he walked over to the cash register. He remained motionless for a few seconds, his finger hovering above a key. You saw him take a deep breath before disappearing into the back office, making you frown for an instant.

Changmin reappeared a few seconds later and you looked at him in shock, expecting everything but this. He held out an arrangement of sunflowers and roses in front of you, the warm tones of yellow and red reminding you of the summer warmth.

"It's for you," he said, holding your gaze, the tips of his ears turning a crimson red. You remained a few seconds dumbfounded in front of the bouquet, not knowing what to do. "For me? But in what honour? I don't deserve it," you stated but he insisted with a nod, so you shyly took the bouquet and gave him a big smile, your heart pounding. "That's so sweet, thank you very much," you told him, plunging your nose into the flowers, the scent of the two flowers blending beautifully together. He seemed to be breathing again when he discovered pure happiness in your eyes, giving you a big smile as well.

“You are as radiant as a sunflower, I… I wanted to gift you some,” he confessed, and you were touched by his words. “And the red roses… well, I don't think I should draw you a picture,” his voice trailed, and you were both embarrassed, but you could still feel some connection emerge between you two. Looking at the flowers again, you noticed a small card hanging at the base of the bouquet, and you flipped it to read it.

"A date to celebrate my arrival here?" you asked, surprised he knew this information about you. "Only if you want to, of course. I accidentally overheard your discussion with Mr and Mrs Bae, I thought it would be a good opportunity for me to show you around the city," he scratched the back of his neck, an embarrassed look painted on his face, apprehensive about your reaction. "With great pleasure," he looked up and sighed in relief, making you smile at his behaviour. "Saturday morning in front of the bakery, is that okay with you?" "It's perfect." He smiled while nodding, his brown eyes lingering into yours for seconds that seemed to last forever, but he didn't feel so intimidated anymore.

He almost felt confident, and that only sounded promising for the days to come.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

72 Hours In Montreal [Part I]

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 6.8k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought you said you failed that class.”

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

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

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

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

Kevin laughs. “2001: A Space Odyssey.”

“Close Encounters of The Third Kind.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kind of,” you admit, still stunned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The squeal that bursts out of Kevin is not human.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it far?” John asks you.

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

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

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

“Not until 5:30.”

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

“Splendid!” Freddie says, radiant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or you could just wear nothing.”

“Sparkle and furs it is.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Just let me get my coat…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds scenic.”

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

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

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“Does it?��

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

“You’re not a Queen fan?”

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

“Is it that obvious?”

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

“And what do you think of lead guitarists?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mission accomplished,” John says mildly.

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

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

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

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

“Definitely not.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He stares at you. You stare back.

“Stop looking at my fucked up eyeliner.”

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

“He does not have eight kids!”

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

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

Kevin grins. “You know why you care.”

“Stop,” you plead.

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

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

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

“This friendship is terminated.”

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

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

~~~~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

“What did you study?” he asks you.

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

“Yeah. For when reality requires improving.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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