#not enough respect to not be listening to my music somewhat loudly . Can’t do everything.

[alittleemo]

So funny that almost a year ago today i was also waiting for my sister to come out of a party thirty minutes after she was supposed to be out. And by funny i do not mean that.

[shining-red-diamond]

Prologue

Prologue/Ch. 1: My Name is Y/N/Ch. 2: The Paint Shop/Ch. 3: Boram (coming soon)

 Words: 2.5k

Pairing: Kai (feat. Bobby of iKon)

Rating: PG-15

Genre: angst with somewhat happy ending

Warnings: language, blood, violence, character death, and use of firearms

August 15, 2038. 8:29PM

The elevator ascended up the penthouse rapidly but silently. Kai faced the silver, sliding doors while waiting to get off on the floor he was called to. A homicide had happened in one of the wealthier neighborhoods in Seoul, the situation being an android like himself seeming to have gone rogue before slaying his owner. Why this happened, the police weren’t sure; but now with Kai on the way, they could possibly be a step closer to helping the family.

Out of boredom, Kai began performing tricks with his silver coin he had picked up after his first case. He had been programmed to learn a small skill to help him think, and coin tossing became his. He tossed it into the air twice before dancing it between his fingers. Leaping the object between his hands several times as if it were sliding in a PVC pipe, the elevator finally reached the seventieth floor, and Kai caught the coin between his index and middle fingers. As soon as he pocketed the coin, he straightened his tie and prepared himself to enter the penthouse.

The elevator doors then opened.

“Negotiator on site,” a troop reported before turning a corner.

The entrance to the family’s apartment was a dark hallway illuminated by lights shining upon home decorations and two large fish tanks with blue lights. In front of Kai was a rock wall with plants growing from well-groomed soil. Small tables lined the wall, and sitting upon them were both pictures of the family and other decorations. Debris of an ornament was shattered on the floor, indicating something bad had happened.

Kai glanced over at one of the pictures on a small table and picked it up. Pictured was a family of three: a father, mother, and a daughter; and they were all looking at the camera with content smiles. With one blink, his scanners immediately identified the man as thirty-nine year old Lee Minseo, the woman as thirty-seven year old Min Sooyoung, and the child as Lee Gayoon. From the information Kai was given about the family, Minseo was a well-respected businessman in the area, his wife worked as a nurse at one of the hospitals, and their ten-year-old daughter was a straight-A student one of the top elementary schools. To help out with their busy lives, they had bought an android that would clean the house, watch over the daughter, and a multitude of other basic needs.

Putting back the picture frame, he noticed a fish flopping around in one spot on the floor. He scooped it up, identified it as a dwarf gourami, and put it back into one of the fish tank. The creature swam away happily as if nothing had happened at all as Kai watched with a small smile on his face.

“I can’t leave her,” a woman’s voice pleaded. Kai turned to his left as a first responder was guiding a hysteric Sooyoung from the main area.

She spotted Kai, grabbed him by the shoulders and begged with tears in her eyes, “Please, please, you’ve got to save my little girl.” She paused for a second before pulling back and scanning him from head to toe. “Wait. You’re sending an android?”

“Alright, miss,” the responder ordered. “You need to go.”

“No,” Sooyoung protested as she was pulled from the scene. “You can’t do that! Why aren’t you sending a real person?!”

Kai watched as the sobbing woman was dragged to the elevator to safety. Turning back around, he ignored her protests and began his job.

He approached the S.W.A.T. captain, whom was looking over something with a team member, and introduced himself. “My name is Kai. I’m the android sent by CyberLife.”

The captain eyed him up and down before returning to his conversation with the S.W.A.T. soldier.

“It’s firing at everything that moves,” he reported. “It already shot down two of my men. We can easily get it to the edge of the balcony.”

Kai listened carefully to the captain’s plan.

“But if it falls,” the captain continued before turning to the android behind him, “she falls.”

Putting two and two together, Kai realized that this was the first case of an android going deviant. Worse than that, the android in question has taken Gayoon hostage.

“Do you know if it’s been behaving strangely before this?” he asked.

“I haven’t got a clue. Does it matter?”

“I need information to determine the best approach. Has it experienced an emotional shock recently?”

The police captain stood up in a huff and was now face to face with Kai. “Listen, saving that kid is all that matters. So either you take care of this android now, or I will.”

As soon as he was in another area of the room, Kai immediately got to work. He began in the master bedroom room where a safe was open, and a small, silver briefcase designed to hold Minseo’s pistol was abandoned and empty on the floor. He identified the inside as a placeholder to house an MS853 Black Hawk pistol that held seventeen rounds. Next to it, a few .365mm bullets had disappeared from a full box of them. His scanners then began reconstructing the scene, and it revealed that the deviant had stolen Minseo’s firearm.

Kai’s programming urged him to investigate Gayoon’s room. Upon entering her soft pink bedroom, he took advantage of checking her tablet that was resting next to her computer on her desk. The moment he opened it, the first thing to pop up was a video of Gayoon with her arm around the android. He and Gayoon were in a park on a somewhat cloudy day, and both of them were all smiles. The android was dressed in the standard android uniform, and from what Kai could tell Gayoon had on a light blue dress, her jet-black hair pulled back into a low ponytail.

“This is Bobby,” she grinned to the camera as she introduced him. “The coolest android ever! Say hi, Bobby.”

“Hello,” the android, now identified as Bobby, waved.

Kai shut off the tablet and glanced around the room some more. His eyes landed on a set of purple headphones. He kneeled down, picked them up, and held one side to his ear. Red Velvet’s music was playing loudly through them, which brought Kai to the conclusion that the child didn’t hear any possible gunshots.

Walking back into the living room, he found a man lying dead on a shattered, glass coffee table. As soon as he got closer, his scanners began to analyze everything. The body was identified as the now deceased Lee Minseo. He had been shot in the chest three times, his left lung, left kidney, and lower right lung all being pierced. Minseo’s cause of death was internal bleeding from the gunshots. Once the scene was reconstructed, it revealed that Minseo was sitting on the couch and reading something when the android entered from behind him. He turned around, saw the gun in his hands, and was almost instantly gunned down.

Something glimmered in the dim lighting. Kai found that it was a tablet with a few red blood splatters on it. He opened it, and found an order had been placed for a new android.

Things were starting to make sense now as the clues were piecing themselves together.

Two gunshots rang out at a deafening volume, and an officer cursed out of shock.

Kai knew he had to wrap up his investigation quickly, so he deciding to look around the kitchen area. A bronze pot sat on a hot stove, foam seeping from the lid and steam flying up into the air. Dinner was probably cooking when everything began to go down.

A DPD officer was sprawled out onto the floor, Kai concluding that he was the first officer to be shot by Bobby upon analysis. However, the officer had been able to strike the android before receiving a bullet through his heart, the child having been taken hostage and witnessing it all. After watching the scene, Kai was able to locate the officer’s weapon from under the kitchen table. He knew androids weren’t allowed to carry weapons, but he figured if things got out of hand or he needed to prove a point, he would pull it out if it were absolutely necessary.

The TV was now turned on to the news station where it was filming over the penthouse from a helicopter. The turquoise-colored pool glowed brightly, and a few patio lights brightened up the rooftop just enough to shed light on the deviant, who was holding Gayoon captive.

“It’s been just over an hour the little girl was taken hostage at the top of a building here in downtown Gangnam,” the anchor on the TV reported. “Details are still in motion as to what is happening, but the hostage taker could be the family’s android. He may have taken the lives of one family member and a police officer. If confirmed this would be the first case of an android taking human lives. By all sides, the-“

Kai muted the TV. He had the confirmation he needed. Now, he just needed to confide with Bobby.

Slowly, Kai stepped out onto the patio. A gun was immediately fired, Gayoon screamed, and the bullet hit Kai in his arm. Thankfully, it did little to no damage, but his blue blood was splattered onto the patio curtains.

Bobby was standing at the very edge of the rooftop. In his left arm, he held a crying Gayoon, and in his right hand was Minseo’s pistol.

“Stay back!” Bobby ordered with a shot. “Don’t come any closer, or I’ll jump.”

“No, no, please! I’m begging you!” Gayoon begged with tears of fear streaming down her eyes.

Kai glanced around at the surrounding buildings. The S.W.A.T. teams were starting to position themselves on the rooftops in case anything started getting out of hand, and a police helicopter was now hovering over them. If they fired immediately, they would risk killing Gayoon as well.

Gayoon had to be saved at all costs, so Kai immediately began his rescue strategies.

“Hi, Bobby!” he greeted him while having to shout at him over the helicopter’s noise. “My name is Kai.”

“How do you know my name?” Bobby asked.

“I know a lot of things about you. I’ve come to get you out of this.”

The detective android them began slowly approaching the pair, the helicopter flying around while causing a few lounge chairs to fly up and fall.

“I know you’re angry, Bobby,” Kai began the calm approach. “But you need to trust me, and let me help you.”

“I don’t want your help!” Bobby spat. “Nobody can help me. All I want is for all this to stop.” His face darkened again as he stared down at Kai. “Are you armed?”

“I have a gun.”

“Drop it!”-Bobby aimed his weapon at Kai-“No sudden moves, or I shoot.”

Kai pulled the gun out of his pocket and immediately tossed it aside. “There,” he said. “No more gun.”

He then began to walk forward again, this time explaining the whole scenario to Bobby.

“They were going to replace you,” he began, “and you became upset. That’s what happened right?”

“I thought I was part of the family,” Bobby added. “I thought I mattered, but I was just their toy. Something you can throw away when you’re done with.” He gripped Gayoon harder and held the gun to her.

“I know you and Gayoon were very close. You think she betrayed you, but she’s done nothing wrong.”

“SHE LIED TO ME!!!” Bobby screamed. “She’s just like all the other humans.”

“Bobby, no,” Gayoon sobbed.

Kai glanced over at another cop on the ground, but he was slightly moving. Rushing over to him to check him out, he realized he had been shot. He knew he had a job to do, but he figured there was still part of Bobby’s programming that could help the officer. Looking back up at Bobby, he told him, “He’s losing blood. If we don’t get him to a hospital now, he’s going to die.”

“All humans die eventually,” Bobby put his foot down. “What does it matter if this one dies now?”

Kai didn’t answer, but instead began showing Bobby what he’s doing. However, the deviant wasn’t having it. He shot a bullet near the man’s arm.

“Don’t touch him!” he ordered. “Touch him, and I’ll kill you.”

“You can’t kill me,” Kai shot back as he proceeded to stop the man’s bleeding until proper help could arrive. “I’m not alive.”

When he finished, he stood back up and began approaching Bobby again.

“I know this is not your fault,” he reassured. “These emotions you are feeling are just errors in your software.”

“No,” Bobby sobbed. “I never wanted this. I loved them, you know? But I was nothing to them!”

Gayoon began to cry again.

“Just a slave to be ordered around.”

The helicopter hovered a little closer, but Bobby only grew more agitated. “I can’t stand that noise anymore,” he growled. “Tell that helicopter to get out of here.”

Kai did as he wished and motioned for the flying contraption to leave, mentally hoping that this would help Bobby. The helicopter immediately flew away.

“There,” he reassured him. “I’ve done what you wanted.”

Bobby looked around at everything surrounding them and noticed the police and S.W.A.T. team all over the place. His LED was now shining red, the indicator of an android under stress.

“I want everyone to leave,” he ordered. “And I want a car. When I’m outside the city, I’ll let her go.”

Gayoon was staring at Kai with a pleading expression, tears stained down her round cheeks.

“That’s impossible, Bobby,” the android shook his head. “Let the girl go, and I promise you won’t be hurt.”

He knew it was probably a lie, but Kai was determined that Sooyoung would be able to get her ten-year-old back safely in her arms. At this point, Kai was doing he could to keep the situation calm and possibly not have to gun down the deviant.

“I don’t wanna die,” Bobby replied softly.

“You’re not going to die,” Kai promised with the knowledge that it was a lie. “We’re just going to talk. Nothing will happen to you. You have my word.”

Bobby stared down at him for a moment before gently releasing Gayoon from his grasp. The girl immediately rushed over to the pool and lay down by the edge, nervous that things would escalate further.

“Okay,” he sighed as he lowered the gun. “I trust you.”

The two locked eyes for a moment, but before Bobby could walk towards him a shot pierced the silence. Gayoon screamed in shock, and two more shots stuck Bobby causing him to kneel on both knees. His inner workings were now exposed while his blue blood was splattered and spilled like ice cream on a hot day.

He looked up Kai. “You lied to me, Kai,” he said as he began shutting down. “You l-lied to m-me…” Bobby shut down permanently, a somber look frozen on his face.

It was quiet now, the only noises being the two helicopters and Gayoon’s soft sobs as she lay there on the ground. Once the police collected Bobby, took care of the bleeding officer, and reunited Gayoon with her mother Kai left the scene. Kai’s mission was a success.

-

Tagging: @moonlightlino​ @keeper-of-the-uwus​ @yeaimfishboi​ @daybreakx​ @nct-neoculture​

[potahun]

Some more Qin Shen Shen moment translations (part 5/?)

Link to other translations so far

-Pretty much all the cuts in Ep. 10 (including some non-QSS because Ep. 10 is funny in general)

a. The order of performances for ep.10 was decided via Kart race + DDR. I.e. the team with the highest compiled scored at kart racing + DDR get to choose in which order they want to perform first, and so on. The MC explains that some tried kart racing for the very 1st time (Zhou Shen), and some tried DDR for the 1st time (Fei Yuqing). 

MC: Even though it was Xiao Ge’s first time at DDR, he made a new record that is likely to be unbroken from now on. Indeed, Xiao Ge’s score at DDR was 1600. (the crowd cheers) Right, that is a big number, huh? Because...normally, when ordinary people play, their score is around 8000. (FYQ: ;;;;;;;;;)

b. During the “flashback” to the kart racing: Zhou Shen represents Qin Shen Shen, and is racing against Zhou Hua Jian, Liu Yuning, Ayanga and Xiao Zhan. The scene speaks for itself but basically Zhou Shen’s “speed” is such that he gets his own personalised BGM. 

LKQ, watching from afar with the rest of the cast: This, Zhou Shen can keep driving leisurely like that, it’ll be fine. Huh. (i.e. he has zero expectations, just wants ZS to drive safely)

(Later, when Zhou Shen finishes 1 loop at last) LKQ, happily: Hey! Zhou Shen finally completed one loop!

c. When it is revealed that Fei Yuqing and Ayanga are singing 2nd. 

AYG: The two of us actually ranked 5th (for kart racing + DDR). Normally, we wouldn’t even have to think about it, huh? (FYQ: Right) We should have been the ones performing first (because no one wants to perform first usually).

MC: Hold, hold, hold, hold on. You two ranked 5th?

AYG: We ranked 5th honorably. (FYQ: Mm)

MC: I think, Xiao Ge playing DDR for the first time, we can totally understand (that he’d rank last), but is there any problem with you and kart racing? 

AYG, smiling and pointing around him: But really. There were strong people. (ZHJ: No, no, no) Really, big brother Hua Jian was too strong. Zhan Zhan? Too strong. Yuning...I couldn’t even see those 3 people at the front, and I was already driving fast enough.

MC: Eh? Wait a second. Zhou Shen is the only one you haven’t mentioned.

AYG: Shen Shen was in the same lane as me. He was following me.

ZS: He’s being polite, I was playing in a completely different playground from them. 

ZHJ, who can’t keep it in: Can I say this?

AYG: Yes? (ZS: H-h-huh?) 

ZHJ (to the MC): Zhou Shen started to drive in the wrong direction.  (MC: Hah?? AYG: Right, right!)

The flashback shows Zhou Shen during the practice race, driving onto the grass and then going the wrong way until he’s driving in the opposite direction from everyone else. 

LYN and ZHJ, when ZS crosses them and wheezes past: ??????

The Karting staff, when ZS gets stuck on the side of the road: Don’t drive in the opposite direction! It’s dangerous!

ZS: I don’t know how...! I don’t know....

Later, when they’re at the starting line, ZS (to LYN): What’s the course like? *draws with his finger* Like this?

LYN: Yeah!  (...) There’s only one way!

ZS, confused: There’s only one?

LYN: Just don’t go where there’s grass and it’ll be fine. There’s just one road.

ZS, shouting: Everyone please be careful! If you see me, please make way! *laughs*

Back to the “present”, Ayanga explains that you’d sometimes see a car seemingly driving without a driver, and Zhou Shen rectifies “You’d sometimes see just a helmet”. 

LKQ (to ZS): Hey, in the future, better not drive onto the road, huh? 

ZS: I definitely won’t. I definitely won’t drive. *laughs*

d. When Fei Yuqing and Ayanga set up their stage, and Ren Xianqi notices that there is a Gu Qin (an instrument) onstage. Zhou Shen and Liu Yuning comment on how the stage visual looks like going to be big. 

ZS (to LYN): We have nothing.

LKQ: I have dry ice.

LYN, smiling: Dry ice will already be dazzling.

e. After Xiao Zhan and Angela Chang finished their performance of “Shout” (3rd performance). The MC asks why Zhou Shen was singing along:

ZS, trying not to make AC seem old: This song is also one I listened to a lot when I was somewhat more...uh...

AC: Just say it, you!  (XZ, helping ZS: Teens. In your teens) 

ZS: Right, in my teens. So I was immediately brought back to that environment. Moreover, these 3 first songs, after hearing them, I feel like this stage is becoming increasingly more serious. And the scent of competition is getting increasingly thicker. 

LKQ: Yeah, seeing that the first 3 groups are all so good...There are a few lyrics in this song that fit pretty closely with my current feeling, and those are “My heart is very dark”. (ZS loses it)

f.  After the 4th performance, by Ren Xianqi and Liu Yuning. 

MC: Teacher Keqin, after hearing them sing, did your heart light up? 

Li Keqin shakes his head, looks down, and Zhou Shen picks up the mic after laughing silently at him:

ZS, singing about LKQ: “His heart is the color black~” (T/N: the melody and lyrics are derived from one of the songs they sang in the past)

Zhou Hua Jian loses it. 

ZS, still singing while LKQ hides his face: “Today it’s finally my turn to pull the ladder under his feet~”

Someone in the audience shouts for Li Keqin to respond to Zhou Shen, but Li Keqin is too busy laughing and hiding his face.

g. Announcing Li Keqin and Zhou Shen’s turn to perform. 

MC: Everyone knows it already. There’s nothing more to wait for *designates LKQ and ZS, who starts stretching* 

LKQ: To be honest, after having seen the 4 groups before us, I’m feeling a little scared..... Because aside from the fact that they’re all really skilled, really good at singing...the packaging was also ... (ZS, completing for him: Impressive. Beautiful) Even the dancer at the front (during the previous performance) was really pretty. (RXQ cracks up) 

MC: You’re not telling me that you weren’t listening to them singing and were just looking at that dancer, are you?

LKQ: No, no, no, no! I’m just looking at everything in detail.......Our song....aside from dry ice, will have nothing. (ZS laughs silently next to him) *holds ZS’s arm* But we have chosen a very good song. *lets ZS speak*

ZS: Right, actually it’s me who’s been pleading for this song since Episode 1. I’ve said “I really love this song”. 

MC: But I think you guys really have some guts. (ZS laughs) Because half of the original singers of this song is currently sitting in this room.

ZS: He’s not only the original singer. He is also the one who (LKQ finishes with him: composed it.)

MC: Yeah...aren’t you guys really too gutsy? 

(...)

h. Preparation of Lovers in the World. Li Keqin and Zhou Shen sitting next to each other in the backstage room.

ZS, fist against palm (to LKQ): Thank you so much to teacher Keqin!

LKQ, looking away: It’s nothing~OK lah~ OK lah~ 

ZS: Because, I think this song actually doesn’t have that many advantages in a competition. It’s not the kind of song that goes “aaaaaa” *mimics high notes with hand movements* That kind...

LKQ: It does! You have the parts that go *mimics ZS’s ‘aaaah’ parts in Lovers in the World, but very exaggeratedly* 

ZS: I think our high notes in this song are all for the purpose of the mood, though...So I think this song is not that competitive. 

LKQ: Actually, it’s pretty difficult. Because it’s got harmonisation from beginning to the end. (ZS: Yes, and all the lyrics are very crisp *makes a guilty face, likely because he knows it’s hard for LKQ to pronounce*) And also, for other songs, they don’t take too long to remember. This one, for someone who speaks Cantonese, it’s pretty.........hard. (ZS laughs silently while looking at him) It requires that both people have good chemistry. 

ZS: Right. 

LKQ: And after that, we’ll.....do our best *looks at ZS, while ZS makes another guilty face*

(the next part I’ve already translated. Basically, ZS praises LKQ who says no need for praise since he’s already agreed to sing this song with him)

ZS, very loudly: Right, so let everyone have a good listen at our teacher Keqin’s Mandarin, it’s first class level of awesome! *both thumbs up* (LKQ: ......;;; Ok)

i. After they finished performing “Lovers in the World”.

LKQ doing a playful salute: Teacher Hua Jian. (since it’s ZHJ’s song) (...)

MC: Elder brother Keqin, are you still nervous? 

LKQ: Uhhh...*huffs* I’ve let... let out a breath. Right. Mm. *looks at ZS* Are you satisfied? You’ve always been hoping to sing this song.

ZS: I’m really happy I could sing this song. But what I didn’t expect is that while singing this song, we’d have teacher Hua Jian present. I think that’s an unexpected gift. Thank you, thank you.

(...)

RXQ, commenting on the performance: I keep thinking that, in my heart, Zhou Shen is like Peter Pan.

LKQ: Is it his outer appearance that’s like Peter Pan? (ZS laughs)

RXQ: No, no, I’m just saying, it’s because he has a pure heart towards music, like a child. (LKQ happily pats ZS on the back) There’s a positive energy in his voice. And their two voices, when they’re together, it’s just....It’s still that phrase for me: a Match Made in Heaven. So great. (LKQ is busy happily and playfully kicking ZS)

ZS: Thank you Xiao Qi Ge, thank you.

j. Easter Egg: DDR cut. One person per team, with Li Keqin representing Qin Shen Shen. Fei Yuqing and Angela went first, then Ren Xianqi and Yi Qiao, and Li Keqin went last, so he’s spent each of the other turns learning and practicing the steps. 

ZS, teasingly, when RXQ and YQ are done:  Teacher Keqin, it’s up to you!

Staff: Is there anyone who wants to do it together with Teacher Keqin? (since there are 2 spots on the machine)

LYN: Zhou Shen, go, Zhou Shen!

ZS: ???

LYN: Go, it’s time to show your strong suit!

AYG (to ZS): You just ranked 5th (in kart racing), you have to pull out some of your self-respect.

ZS, asking for cheers: What did I rank?

AYG: ......First! First.

ZS, turning to LKQ now that they’re both on the machine: Teacher Keqin. Now that you’ve already learned it twice.....

LKQ: 

LYN (to LKQ and ZS): You have to remember you’re people who have danced to “Ye Lang Disco”.

ZS: Will we turn out to be the two with the highest scores out of everyone? *laughs cheekily*

(Half way through their DDR run, Zhou Shen starts holding Li Keqin’s hand and shouting directions like “Jump!” “Up! Right! Left!” until eventually Li Keqin gets distracted and messes up)

LKQ, protesting: HEY.

ZHJ and LYN, laughing at them: He’s distracting him. 

AYG: Let me tell you, if you give Zhou Shen two more inches of legs, he won’t miss a single one. (ZS laughs)

In the end, Li Keqin gets a really high score, even higher than Zhou Shen. 

ZS, happily staring at LKQ who has his hands in the air: Whoa! You scored higher than me!! (the two continue to stare at each other before eventually going for a celebratory hug)

[retrorealeyes]

Here’s why I want my parents dead /hj

REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE like I know hating your parents if they aren’t overtly abusive (and even if they are it’s only mildly) like bruh, tempted to list out my parents “abuse” here. also like bruh, i’m fine rn, i’ve just been hating them for a while

This isn’t fully everything ever, it’s just an overview and I don’t think it touches the main problems enough (also I don’t give a lot of examples because there’s too many and I don’t have the will to write em all,and i’ve still overviewing everything)

-never respect my wishes if it goes against theirs (e.x. please leave me alone, can i go outside?, can I leave and go upstairs?)

             this is a big one

-don’t respect my privacy (in weird ways too, like my dad opening the door to scare me when i’m changing) and making fun of it too

          plus in normal ways like reading my journals or never knocking no matter how many times i tell them to

-making fun of me on purpose to get me upset, even when i ask them to stop

-getting suddenly and violently angry (dad):

           often unreasonably and quickly

          my dad curses people out under his breath, as a sign he’s going to get violent

          has broken things, SUCH AS MY WHOLE ASS PHONE by throwing it on the ground does punch things, generally not people, e.x. walls, but not that hard. he has punched me

          DOES to people- slap, push (this one especially, just last week he did), throw, scratch

          is destructive to other’s property (e.x. ripping up THEIR papers)

          refuses to listen to suggestions like, in the future, trying to calm down, or writing out his anger instead or seeking therapy

          been like this towards me since i was 6-7 years old

          it can escalate from anything

          will degrade you and insult you, if you ever say anything back (even in a non-angry situation, will grow even angrier/get very angry)

          makes you feel awful

          can last for hours and never accomplishes anything apart from further degrading yourself

          if you don’t give the exact answer he wants, will get even angrier

             I’m obviously terrified of him

               Swears at me, except they censor me so much they could probably kill me if I ever swore so that exacerbates the fear of it

          after the fact continuosly denies it

-my dad also:

           always demands respect

          always plays the victim and complains about how we dislike him

          never admits his mistakes

          is awful to my little sister, randomly, even when she’s being perfectly fine

-my mother and father’s relationship

             they openly and mean to each other. they never display affection and joke about divorcing

             sometimes dad yells at mom for a while, it’s obvious he thinks he’s superior to her and belittles her intelligence

             they are sometimes violent, but not often, and not overtly, more violent towards objects than each other when fighting with each other

             they do get in fights often (see: my dad’s belief in his superiority)

-openess with them

             there is none. they constantly criticize any self expression, make all subjects taboo, get angry over nothing and overall make me terrified of talking to them, then get all sad about “why don’t you tell us“ but if I try to express anything, even if they don’t get angry, they’ll store it in their heads and then later keep using it against me. “You said we were bad parents, do you not want to eat our food?“ “You said you were unmotivated, you don’t even have a reason to be sad.“ (said in an challenging, mean way)

-my self esteem

-my dad, physically (TO BE CLEAR I don’t think my dad in any way in trying to do anything sexual, i’m just saying he never respects my boundaries and here are some things he thinks are “perfectly fine” that he does, also this might be a bit disconnected sounding, i’m just so tired

          commenting on my weight/appearance (mom too)

             commenting on what i’m wearing, especially teasing me if it’s something out of the usual, as if i’m not insecure enough already

             dictating what i wear if they don’t like what i’m wearing

             commenting (negatively) on my mom’s weight a lot (to be fair, they both joke about being old and him balding and a little about him being fat so this one isn’t as bad apart form the fact that i’m skinnier so he “jokes” a lot about how i’m like a skinnier version of her)

                fatso called the girl in the video

             forces me to hug and kiss him, often only giving my phone back or treats luke donuts if I kiss him, even if I’ve expressed i’m uncomfortable (just does this a lot and i hate it)

-the past

             have yelled for me for no reason since i was young

             i don’t remember ever liking my dad (wait, before 6 years of age i remember liking him and before I was 9 i remember not hating him at all times)

             i continously try to trust them again, then they break me

               they were never open with me and taught me to be ashamed of myself which led to bad social relations later, which i’m only now breaking out of

-confiscation and lack of trust

               always taking my stuff so i can’t rely on what they’ll black mail me with, no “excuse” is valid to keep it (ex. I want to communicate w/friends or I LITERALLY HAVE INSOMNIA AND CAN’T SLEEP WITHOUT LISTENING TO MUSIC); during my worst days, when I was really suicidal i remember not having my phone for a long time which led to me being left behind and further isolating myself which, y’know spiralled

               I can go on and on about how they never value my voice but i’m sort of running out of steam

               they also never trust my statements, always cast me as the cause-r of something (luckily they’re fair and don’t punish me for it if I insist I didn’t do it, but the fact i have to really advocate for my innocence and am constantly suspected just is not great, and even jokingly, i hate attention, their attention)

                 There’s more but i think i’m done for now

-constantly bother me (i know this is nitpicking, i’m just trying to get everything out, and some of these have more layers than i’m willing to express)

               intentionally sabotaging

               even if i ask them to go away

               try to annoy me when ever i see them, even if i’ve asked them not too, and really make me avoid everything even more (you have to go through where they usually are to get out and that means y’know what)

               singing

               yelling and stepping loudly (which makes me scared my dad is mad all the time)

               always teasing and judging

-mother dearest

               very aggressive

               VERY controlling

               generally boring

               always invades privacy, more of a nosy person, but, in a way, better than dad

               she can get violent too and screams but it’s less often but can get very intense sometimes, generally it’s more of taking away my stuff and telling me to give up (which, the telling me to give up, my dad does too)

-lack of independence

                THIS ONE IS HUGE. my parents are very controlling and so even a little freedom excites me and they use my lack of experience as a sword against me, and that makes it eve harder for me to do anything when I’m constantly fighting restrictions and my brains can’t distinguish bad restrictions from schoolwork restrictions

-shitty world view

               just a bad biased view of the world, i really don’t want to elaborate, beyond the general sense they deserve to be respected for being parents a conservative-type view, also don’t have basic sense of morality, as in sympathy, for everyone, and instead do the whole us|them thing with their politics, the only problem is that we’re immigrants which is why they vote democrat

-grandparents

                 are visiting, they are also unhygienic, to always be obeyed, generally judgemental, and intentionally old, and taking up both of my rooms, overall i don’t like any of them, my father’s mom is alright though

-generally shaming me

And otherwise everything is generally going to shit, my social life (though I saved it somewhat for ONE person), my mental/emotional health, my exercise, motivation for anything, just the way the house is set up, my grandparents are here, how i’m doing in school.

I should write the thesis and really flesh this out well but I’ll tell you what: ultimately my parents are selfish people who don’t consider me my own entity but more as themselves and my achievements combined. ANd even if you love me, which I don’t doubt, I don’t have to love you back, and that doesn’t excuse your shittiness, dad. I fucking hate you. (yes. i’m grateful for the money, house, generally not obviously abusive childhood, food, stuff, bed, phone, etc. you have provided, but that doesn’t cancel out your misdeeds, it just coexists next to it)

Like is it SO bad for me to blame SOME of my issues with them? BUT NO if I ever bring up how they did x so i did y. I did y ON PURPOSE to UPSET THEM and i can’t hold them accountable, i’m just blaming them, even if I’m genuinely trying to explain my issues the way I understand them.

idr if you can edit tumblr documents, and even if you can, i’m not going to, i’ll just add to this with comments, to preserve the integrity, not that anyone will or should read this, but i’ll probably come back to it

[ddaenghoney]

chapter fifteen

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): invasion of privacy (pictures), and non-violent stalking (fans following celebrity type) ; sorry this chapter starts one way and ends on a 180 from it asldkjfjkvkn

Word count: 5269

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

The room’s motion slows following your admission. You use the idea of time ceasing momentarily to rationalize Yoongi’s hand enveloping your own as the statement lingers in the cool air. Unable to avert your gaze, you wait for a return of passing seconds, knowing that this could be the last instance of Yoongi’s irises seemingly sparkling as he views you. When motion continues and the push of gravity tries to collapse your spoken feelings, it’s within his choice of reciprocation to let them fall or not.

But his grip on your hand remains, tightening with a lapsing squeeze. Alerting your senses that the seconds indeed flow still, you are also left to realize that you can still feel Yoongi’s warming existence clutching onto yours. Within the confines of his psyche exists the response, one that your heart has yet to accelerate in anticipation for. Maybe because of the natural lullaby composing Yoongi’s ambiance, maybe because he never heard you to begin with.

Just as you start to believe you had only mouthed the words, a reactionary beat pounds in your chest, because all of the shock you expected to find on his face becomes a serendipitous veil of light instead.

“You do?”

The verbal inquisition for you to again speak your feelings is mentally fluttering. The heat demanding to escape into your complexion nearly busts out from the idea of repeating, because your head caught up and you’re ready to toss logic the control of your tongue so you don’t ramble more of your emotions as you discover them.

“Yeah.” Is all that you can manage, flourishing the bashfulness in the single word by how your hand squeezes tightly around Yoongi’s in suspense. Like peeling back a layer, you feel utterly exposed, unworried of misuse in regards to your feelings, because you trust him to in one way or another act gently, but with your arms growing cold under the touch of the air conditioning, you hope his stupor will come to a conclusion sooner than the eternity it feels to be.

A relaxed, disbelieving chuckle escapes Yoongi’s lips as he breaks the gaze shared. His free hand sheepishly rubs along his neck, and there’s a noticeable quirk in his shoulder that assures you he’s lost in thought of a reply.

“Without realizing…” Yoongi mumbles, finding himself shifting his hand around yours so that the fingers can puzzle together. Coloring your view of him in the sunset of hours earlier, he meets your eyes once more with a small smile to match. He feels safe; unwilling to disconnect from your hand, you think as your heart thumps loudly to the idea and pink speckles your expression. “You never noticed until now,” He says and for a split second you feel embarrassed for not, but Yoongi’s gentle laughter carries out your fondness for him instead. “I don’t think I did either, angel.”

While your eyes blink to verify the reality of the situation before you, your chest swells, and lips part to speak but it takes a moment before they manage to. “Wait, you do? You,” Biting down on your front lip to try and contain your thrill, you settle due to Yoongi’s growing smile. “You mean it?”

Yoongi nods his head, chuckling as you cover your mouth with a hand. Clearly taking a little bit to process the rapid changes, you find words of disbelief repeating inside of your mind while your eyes drift, only to return by the feeling of Yoongi’s hands gently nudging back your shielding grip over your parted lips. He cups your cheek, angling your face to look up towards him again as the space between your bodies dissipates.

“Yeah, I mean it… I’m sure for awhile now, but,” He shrugs sheepishly, finding himself lost in the serenity of your mutually expressed feelings shared and the fact that you have both been so oblivious to the fact. “I guess I didn’t realize it until earlier.”

The blush attempting to creep onto your skin pauses as your memory recollects his actions in the lobby earlier. The absent, dismayed expression followed by a curt leave. Your eyes go wide seeing it now in clarity,

“Wait, about Jimin? I’m sorry,” You start frantically, frowning as you recall how senseless the whole thing was in retrospect. Though you don’t necessarily regret lending an ear to Jimin, especially considering how it turned out, you feel bad that you didn’t properly convey why you did so in the moment, and instead left Yoongi caught in the confusion of it all. “I should’ve explained better-”

“No, don’t worry about it.” Yoongi shakes his head, thumb gently stroking your cheek. Somewhat bashfully he murmurs, “Like Hoseok said, I was just jealous, I guess-- I should’ve known better-”

“Why would you know better?” You huff, unwilling to let Yoongi take the blame for this when there’s no way he can read your mind and understand your feelings when even you weren’t completely aware of their romantic erasure towards Jimin at that time either. “Yoon, I messed up. I did, but I really like you,” You talk with a lifting voice, quickly trying to shovel out the words as Yoongi’s face grows quaintly surprised at your reiteration, “Just you. I,” You bite your lips feeling the flood of heat along the back of your neck, looking on at his blossoming smile. “I’m sorry if I hurt you at all.”

“Not worth an apology, angel.” Carefully his voice alleviates your little worry and you’re aware of the few short inches of space between you as he needs to use barely any volume for the words to wrap around your senses. Your chest feels the flutters like a summer breeze, knowing full well that Yoongi is so close, and slowly closer. Neck arching upwards to accommodate the travel of his face to yours, travel extending so close that the shadow cast on your lips is near tangible, but your hand suddenly clutches on his chest.

“I’m sorry,” You say quietly, as he halts. Practically nothing inside of you wanted to stop him, but that singed memory in your brain is strong enough to react against the rest of yourself. Yoongi’s eyes are very gentle, not at all upset that you stopped him from finding your lips, and he’ll say apologizes aren’t needed.

But you don’t want him to, you don’t want to linger longer in the havenlike idea of mutual reciprocation, because there is an aspect of a new relationship that feels more pressing than the bliss. You can remember the way tears in the past stung so much, and you’re unwilling to let yourself find yourself walking down the same path towards him. Your voice feels small, like the line you stand on can go in either direction with the faintest nudge so it is difficult to speak the issue, “I didn’t want to stop you-- I just,” Nervously the words swallow back down trying to escape. You don’t know why the words are holding back, but Yoongi’s hand in yours squeezes slightly, alerting you to look up at him. Telling you there’s no reason to feel rushed. “I can’t have a relationship like my last one, Yoongi-- Maybe it’s kind of selfish, but I don’t want to be with you if it’s just hidden, or casual-- I can’t do that again.”

The glimpse of how truly disastrous the conditions of your last relationship left you encompasses your tone, revealing a very valid concern that Yoongi had not considered remaining. Simply because the thought of future relationships for you were not a priority to his own wonders about what is to come for you, instead the business aspects have been so persistently worrying him. Perhaps also a reason for never quite noticing a change in his perception towards you. However, as the point stands in the space between you both, he doesn’t find anything changing in what he wants,

“Y/N, I don’t intend to hide anything about being with you.” Yoongi speaks clearly, every word spoken as though the option of anything less does not exist. Because it truly hasn’t crossed Yoongi’s mind that he would guide the relationship towards secrecy, or avoid labeling it altogether. He wants the connection visible. “And, angel, everyone already thinks we’re dating.”

“But to our friends-- people who actually know us.” The hand gripping softly on his shirt releases tension, while you grow relaxed with every word. Beyond disbelieving, you just feel happy that there’s instantaneous acceptance-- statements proving that Yoongi cares about you.

“I’d love to tell them.” He smiles, releasing your hand as you pull it away to find purchase on his shoulder while your other does the same. “I want to be with you, sweetie-- I didn’t think we were getting into anything less if I’m honest with you.”

Yoongi listens to your little bits of chuckles at his words, finding the bashfully bloomed smile incredibly endearing. When the hand cupping your cheek strokes your hair back from your face, you tense in anticipation yet completely contentment. As though everything is set out acceptably, there’s an erasure of worry in your mind, caring about nothing more than the familiar and assuring glow of Yoongi’s eyes.

“Can I, angel?” He asks sincerely, reacting in tune with your gradual nod as he leans towards you.

“Be my boyfriend, you mean?”

The corner of his lips curl into a humored smirk at your tiny teasing comment barely fitting into the space between your mouths, that gives Yoongi just enough time to curtly play along, “That too.”

Slotting his lips softly against your smile, Yoongi lets his hands fall away to hold a shadowing touch on your waist. You pull him slightly closer by his shoulders, deepening the kiss with passing seconds, but it remains new and delicate. No wants of exuberating into something ravenous, but instead your lips press against one another like a sweet exploration, diverging mutually after a calm minute.

Yoongi finds his eyes revelling in the appearance of your lips parted to take small breaths, then glancing towards your eyes in the newness brought on my the moment. How naturally it felt, and continues feeling when your hand cups his face to lead him back into another kiss for no other reason than enjoyment.

A ringtone startles you both into ceasing. You drop your hand from Yoongi’s face to reach for it, while his hands roam to encircle your back, keeping you in the loose ring of his arms. You spot the familiar contact picture set for Namjoon and resist a sigh from concern that unwittingly filled a piece of your stomach. “Going to answer?”

“Yeah, I should.” You say begrudgingly as you lay your forehead against Yoongi’s chest, smiling softly at his immediate chuckles from your slightly dismayed disposition. “Joon, what’s up-”

“Hey, you never replied to the group chat!” Namjoon’s frustrated voice rings through your ear and makes your eyes grow wide at the realization. “The music sounds great, but what the hell happened for you to do that? And have you seen the response online?”

“No,” You say quickly, stepping from Yoongi as fret furrows in your brows at the last question. Yoongi frowns while his arms drop to his sides, having heard what Namjoon asked you because of his voice’s volume. “Sorry, I just wanted to tell you and some other stuff happened and I never got around to replying.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. I just got worried because-- well, I don’t need to tell you this is a big deal, I’m sure you know.”

You watch as Yoongi walks to the coffee table to retrieve his phone, realizing he intends to look for any messages as well, and maybe check online. “Wait, Yoon-” He looks over to you as you wave a signaling no with your hand and continue rambling back to Namjoon. “Yeah, Joon, I know it’s a big deal. I’m sorry I forgot to reply, but I’ll tell you about it tomorrow, okay? Sorry, I need to go though.”

“Are you okay?”

“One hundred percent,” Yoongi raises his eyebrow at your words despite the opposing expression on your face. The notice of this fact makes you roll your eyes at him. “I’m with Yoongi is all, so I’m sort of busy-”

“Oh, you don’t have to explain anything else.” Namjoon says curtly, and from the sound of his voice, you believe him to be smiling as well.

“What does that mean-”

“Don’t mind me; I’ll see you tomorrow like you say. Tell him I said hi. And now I’m telling you bye.”

The line goes dead as you narrow your eyes baffled by Namjoon’s instantaneous change of mood in the course of the short conversation. Yoongi notices, pouting his lips curiously as you shake your head walking over to him, “He’s crazy,” You sit on the couch, dropping your phone beside yourself while Yoongi sits beside you. “Oh, he says hi, by the way.”

“Nice of him,” Yoongi chuckles, then tilts his head, “What were you trying to say to me on the phone with him?”

“I just thought you were going to look on the internet about the songs.” You admit, pulling your legs up on the couch to sit criss cross. Yoongi shrugs, silently admitting that he intended to. “I don’t know, I guess I’m really nervous about it,” You say glancing to your lap, where Yoongi outstretches a hand for you to hold as you go on. Gently fiddling with his fingers and knuckles you look back up at him, “I was going to wait until tomorrow-- Yerin hasn’t tried calling me, so I figure she’ll definitely say something about everything tomorrow. I’d rather just wait.” You finish with a shrug, watching Yoongi nod his head slowly in contemplation of your words.

“I think you’re the first person I’ve worked with who wants to put off looking at the reception.” He admits smiling, catching your hands in a grip as you turn to look at him with a pout. “I don’t mean anything by it. You’re right, I’m sure we’ll know tomorrow anyways.”

You slump back into the cushion, pulling your hands free from his to rub your hair back, playing over the two ways the songs could go over in the public.

Undoubtedly streamed to an extent, but whether the reception is to from infamy or enjoyment is open to speculation. Whenever the public relationship between you and Yoongi pricks into the list of considerations, you feel a pit growing in your stomach. With no credentials to give reason for why he would collaborate other than you being his girlfriend, the public’s perception of you is not likely to be favorable. Even those uncaring of his romantic relationships have a likelihood of being skeptical of you, a random person unassociated with the music industry, to be praised from the songs.

“By the way, did you ever eat dinner?” Yoongi asks as he sits further back into the couch. You stare at him for a short moment before your lips tighten into a line while the fact that your stomach is empty clouds over your head. He laughs at your reaction and lets himself fall into the cushion as you very gently shove him with a hand. “I didn’t either. Was too busy being sad and ranting to Hoseok-”

“Oh, please,” You snort, rolling your eyes at the melodramatic tone he speaks in. Yoongi reaches for your arm, pulling you towards him. You comply, shifting so that you rest comfortably on his chest while he brings his legs beneath yours on the couch. “You were just sad you couldn’t get the pork belly.”

“With you.” Your face scrunches at the small, overly melodic way he speaks, and a lack of smile. Clearly more interested in making you roll your eyes, but you don’t give it to him. Instead you take your leverage to press a quick peck against his cheek, watching Yoongi’s eyes grow wide in reaction along with his lips parting in surprise. You’re clutched against his body before you can make a remark, giggling into his collarbone as Yoongi hides away his flustering cheeks. “I’m ordering barbeque delivery and you can’t stop me.”

---

Namjoon wipes a small towel on the shiny glass in his hand, eyes stern as he stares at you. Because of this occurring for the past few minutes that you’ve been sitting in the usual stool across from him, you simply return a stare without much expression at all. Waiting silently for Seokjin to rush down from his apartment blocks away, you agreed to Namjoon halting your story with reasoning that you wouldn’t have to explain twice if you both texted Seokjin to come.

“Your look is anything but menacing, Joon.” You tell him, hand cupping your chin as you lean over the bartop. You take a sip of your iced tea that is a seasonal creation he asked you to finally try upon arrival.

“You’re wrong; I’m sure you feel guilty for making me worry for at least twenty minutes yesterday.”

“Just twenty minutes?”

“Well, it’s not like I thought someone killed you-”

“I’m here!” Seokjin bursts through the doors, starling a nearby occupied table of younger people who entered after you. “Please tell me you saved the gossip for me-”

“It’s not gossip, it’s my life!” You shake your head, eyes narrowed with no severity as Seokjin takes the seat beside you. Removing his sunglasses, he rolls his eyes, resting an elbow casually on the bartop so he can face you,

“Your gossip life.” He simply says, smiling gently when you just huff and take another long drink of tea. “You’ve looked at the streaming website’s trending songs, right?”

“Yeah,” A murmur falls from your lips as your eyes mindlessly follow ice floating in your drink.Your lips curl upwards, glancing to Seokjin’s still present grin then to Namjoon whose stare is now warm highlighting the proud smile of his own. “They’re all at the top.”

“Because they should be. They’re really good, you and Yoongi did a great job working on them.” Namjoon’s arms unfold from his front, palms going flat on the bar as he continues much more relieved, “I’m glad you released them after all. It’s what you’ve always wanted, Y/N.”

“Joon, you’re going to make me cry.” You admit as you cover your face with your hands, ignoring Seokjin’s sudden laughter to your trembled words. He pats your arm, gently swaying you while speaking as well,

“You know, I bet the songs are going to end up playing around town-- I’ll play them in the club too. The second one is a good tempo for it.” His arm falls from you as you shift on the stool to face Seokjin’s happy expression for you. “Maybe you’ll get other artists asking for you to work with them too.”

“That’s too far to think about, right now.” You admit as a way to keep level, though you can’t say the prospect doesn’t fill you with excitement. “But the timing was really good to release them since I’m about to be jobless.”

“Speaking of,” Namjoon speaks up, causing you both to look at him in bewilderment wondering how that phrasing prompted a thought. “Did you hear anything from your company?”

You shake your head slowly, not verbally responding as you consider the fact. When you woke up, you expected to find alerts of missed calls and emails requesting you to go in for a meeting like before. Instead there was only your friend group chat inquiring for you to meet up at the cafe as you ended up doing. Even on Yoongi’s side there was no communication from anyone minor, much less Yerin herself to ask him what he thought he was doing.

“I haven’t really looked at any comments or news articles about it either.” You bite your lip, thumbs rubbing trails in the condensation coating your forgotten drink. “I’m too nervous. I was going to with Yoongi later on when he’s done working.” At the memory of Yoongi and you, you glance back up, intending to give that last tidbit of shocking news. Finding Namjoon’s eyes blankly looking towards the bartop, lips pensively contorted into a line, you find the thought disappearing, then turn to Seokjin. As you take in his equally shifted disposition, leaned with his chin on his palm, sitting quietly, you frown. “What?”

Namjoon’s shoulders tense from his stupor, finally acknowledging your inquisitive and minorly nervous glances between the two. He shrugs, opening his mouth, but pauses again to instead rub his neck. Considering the things he intends to say, Namjoon feels almost more comfortable sitting in the silence rather than disrupt the peaceful and celebratory chatter. Seokjin speaks up instead,

“I think a lot of people are so shocked by it that they’re reacting pretty,” He narrows his eyebrows in thought of a particular word, but eventually just blurts, “Selfishly, honestly.”

Your hands curl on the bartop, and in the realization of their implied reactions to the public’s commentary on the released tracks you become more aware of your increasing heartbeat. Swallowing thickly, you just nod and look back at your drink, wondering how bad the extent of the reception is if they’re both so at a loss for words on describing it. If they’re both unable to tell you that the good comments overwhelm the negativity, then clearly that would show what people currently think of the music isn’t favorable towards you. But what about Yoongi.

“I expected that,” You say softly, with your hands tightened into frustrated fists. “I think I did at least anyways.” Though with how much rides on the success of the music, you did want to grasp tightly at optimism that you were overreacting with how much backlash there would be. “At least if it stays bad, Yoongi has a well-established reputation to fall back onto for himself.”

“Did he worry about his reputation when you asked him to release the music?” Seokjin asks, as Namjoon shifts to look beyond you both towards the various patrons, and a small new group entering. You shake your head, sitting upright to reply quickly,

“No, I didn’t ask him to; he asked me to.”

“Really?” Namjoon’s head snaps back at you, surprise in widening eyes.

“Well, yeah. I never thought we’d release it when we made them. It was just for fun, but he wanted to. I’m sure to help me out more than anything.” You rub your neck, playing the scene back in your head and tripping in wonder of if you two should have in the end. Ultimately, it doesn’t feel fair to let him risk so much just to give you exposure. Even if he did think the outcomes over, you can’t settle in the idea that it is wholly right for you to latch onto a platform Yoongi spent years building for himself.

“You’ve both gotten pretty close.” Namjoon says quietly, thoughtful in memory of the different instances you used to tell him about sour interactions between you and Yoongi early on in the company merger.

“We’re together.”

Seokjin squints at you, confused if he heard the casually spoken mumble, but finds pink speckling your expression. His eyes widen and he looks at Namjoon’s whose mouth is parted in disbelief. Baffled, Seokjin jumbles a response in a hushed exclamation, “Actually together?”

“Dating?” Namjoon seeks clarification as well, then covers his mouth with his hand as you start nodding in a quick short burst. “Oh, shit-- no wonder you didn’t text us back all day yesterday.”

“That’s what you’re focusing on still.” You get out in a higher tone, rubbing your shoulder to alleviate some of the bashfulness appearing on your person because of the topic. “Yeah, that’s why-- sort of. I also talked to Jimin-”

“Jimin?” You refrain from rolling your eyes at the instantaneous interruption from Namjoon including an unabashed scowl. “Why? He always ends up making you feel like crap-”

The three of you startle with a burst of light. With tense shoulders, you and Seokjin look behind you on your seats while Namjoon muffled a curse beneath his breath as he rubs his eyes from the overexposure. One of the people from the group that entered right after you appears shocked, but overcomes it after a delayed smack on the shoulder from a friend and scrambles to put his aimed phone away. In confusion, you just analyze the oddness of their action and now nervous shifting at their tables.

“Did you take a picture of her?” You turn your head to Seokjin at his firm question. With an intense glower he keeps his attention on the young group, and when the wonder on why he assumes that comes to your mind, you find your throat grown dry. You look back at the group, as the phone holder quickly shakes his head. “The flash points at us and not any of you.”

“Y/N,” Your shoulder trembles as Namjoon gently lays a hand on your forearm. Facing him as Seokjin continues to irritably stare at the group, Namjoon leans towards you, voice remaining muted, “I’m pretty sure that other group of kids that came in are here because of you too.”

“What?” You blurt, going to look at what he meant, but Namjoon grip tightens slightly to keep your eyes directed on him.

“Listen, I bet it’s because of the songs and that they all know you and Yoongi are dating, but I think it’d be best if you and Jin head out before more people come. I’ll stall them, okay?”

“Joon, isn’t this kind of crazy? Like, unrealistic.” You try to reimagine the situational coincidences, but Namjoon doesn’t appear to be swaying. You frown, “I’m just me, Joon; not a celebrity.”

“After yesterday, you kind of are. At least right now.” He says, giving a reassuring squeeze as you begin biting your lip. For a split second you consider how people falling you around while online is apparently upset about the tracks doesn’t make for an uplifting combination. “It’ll be fine, but really you and Jin go while it’s only the eight of them.”

“Yeah, let’s go, Y/N, I’ll drive you wherever,” Seokjin says scooting off of his chair and walks in the direction of the door while you manage to just get a foot on the floor. “Hey,” He goes on his own towards the table as you stray closer to the door, watching nervously on if an altercation would happen, “If you did take a picture, think about how you didn’t have permission to. If I see it on the internet, I’ll have my people make sure it’s taken down immediately.”

Promptly the words fall out with a chilling cool that you aren’t used to hearing from Seokjin. He immediately turns on his heel, following you out the front door. “Jin, you don’t have people.”

“I have you and Joon.” He says, listening to your scoff as he smiles and the two of you cross the street towards his building. “And about four lawyers at this point, as a matter of fact.”

“What if they weren’t even there because of me? It’s pretty random,” You both slide into Seokjin’s car. “Over a few songs?”

“Y/N, you’re dating him too.” Seokjin says while pulling the sleek car onto the road with ease, “I don’t like it, but this is pretty common. You know how they used to follow Jimin around too.”

“But I’m not Jimin or Yoongi-- I’m just a songwriter.” You rub your neck, looking out over the dash as he loiters throughout avenues without direction. Seokjin remains quiet, letting the situation catch up with you, even though you're well away both he and Namjoon are right to assume all of these things. Though you never imagined the concept of your work causing any type of noticeability for you in your daily life, you can’t disagree with the idea that it could. Though you’re not sure if it’s completely because of making the music with Yoongi. A lump in your throat grows knowing that the situation is because of the dating factor, like the two said.

Y/N, 1:38pm: Hey Yoon, how is everything at the company so far?

Staring at the message turn to grey and send out, you continue biting down on your lip. Looking back at your walk to Namjoon’s cafe from the nearby subway station, you recall the group been behind you since then, but thought nothing of it. There was nothing to consider when being recognized in public never happened before, even in the past few months of being under the title of Yoongi’s girlfriend. Despite your face being clear in your social media accounts, and easily accessible for comparison with pictures shot by paparazzi on various dates, there hasn’t been a single person ever actively seek you out.

Your phone vibrates, then does so continuously, lighting up the contact picture of Yoongi as a call comes in. Sliding to answer, you feel a prickling nervousness that something similar occurred for him as well, even though he’s used to things like this. “Hello?”

“Hey, angel,” Yoongi’s voice calmly greets you, free of background noise wherever he’s at. Tension between your shoulders relax listening to him speak. “Oh, are you busy? Sorry for calling without asking.”

“No, it’s fine; I’m not busy. Besides you don’t need to ask to call.” You mumble quickly, fiddling with the hemline of your top. Your fingers still as he chuckles gently, then speaks sounding pleased,

“Okay then, good to know.” Beside you Seokjin, glances to you as you talk, noting your eyebrows now without creasing seemingly worry free,

“Y/N, do you want me to drive you to where Yoongi is?”

You look towards Seokjin, recalling that you hadn’t given him any place to drive you to and that he’s been guiding the car endlessly. “Oh, he’s at the company, Jin, it’s okay if you just drop me off at my apartment. Sorry.”

“You’re with Jin?” Yoongi asks, then before you’re able to answer he goes on, “If you’re not busy right now, can you stop by my apartment, angel?”

“Your apartment?” You repeat in confusion, “You’re not at SoundWave?”

“No,” He only says and the drift into silence feels off-putting. You bite your lip, knowing he went to work earlier when he was texting you and also know that he’s not usually done working until well into the evening. “But if you’re busy don’t worry about it, sweetie.” He speaks on, tone remaining casual but it doesn’t feel completely so. As though there’s something bothering him. “I know I asked pretty suddenly.”

“It’s okay, Yoon, I’m not busy anyways.” You murmur, looking towards Seokjin to ask for a different destination, but he swiftly gives you a small thumbs up to say he knows. “I could be wrong, but is everything okay, Yoongi?”

The pause between an answer feels like an extended eternity. Given what just occurred at Namjoon’s cafe and now the vague sense of disarray this conversation instills in your psyche, you can’t help squeezing your hand into a ball. Thinking of things Yerin could have told him, or the media reception that he undoubtedly saw, you wonder if there’s regret in this decision of release, or if there’s damage done to his name that would be your fault.

“Yeah, sweetie.” Yoongi tells you and for the first time it doesn’t feel reassuring. “I just need to talk to you about some things.”

if you enjoy please, please let me know via ask, comment, rb with tags– however ! i’d just really appreciate feedback 🥺 i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

tag list (send an ask to be added): @jaiuneamesolitaiire​ @tsvkino-usagi​@xionysus​​ @baebyjoonie​ @honeyoongles​ @betysotelo18​

[oskea93]

Why Can’t I (1)

Warning: Language. 

HEY GUYS!  SO- I know I told you guys a few weeks ago that I felt like writing a Duff McKagan fanfic. At the time, I wasn’t sure where I was gonna go with it, often writing ideas down and then realizing they kind of suck. I honestly almost gave up writing this story because it wasn’t going the way I hoped it to go...UNTIL! I don’t know if any of you guys have ever seen the movie Cocktail with Tom Cruise, (it’s amazing, you should def check it out) but I was watching it and the idea came to me. If you have seen Cocktail, then you know it’s kind of cheesy in a way, I promise this will not be a cheesy story! It’s going to have elements of the movie, not focusing on the whole movie itself. I’m sorry if that didn’t make sense. I’m not sure it makes sense myself. I’m actually kind of nervous to be putting this out there because I have found and read some amazing Duff stories and I just hope my story can reach to their level of awesomeness. I am still going to be writing Keep it to Yourself (my baby for right now) and i’m going to be working on this story as well. If you read Thinking of You, my first Nikki story, you may have noticed that I haven’t updated that in a while. That story is actually on hold for right now until I figure out what i’m gonna do to it. I don’t want to give it up but i’m having hard time writing anything for it right now. I’ll stop rambling now and end this long ass post!  IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE LET ME KNOW! ALSO, IF YOU ACTUALLY ENJOYED THIS STORY, PLEASE LET ME KNOW AS WELL :) 

“Jamaica, here we come!”

I watched as my best friend exclaimed loudly, causing those around us to stop and stare. “Why aren’t you celebrating with me?” Bryn asked, reclaiming her seat next to me. “We’ve been waiting for how long for this trip and you’re sitting here like a bump on a log?” I rolled my eyes. Don’t get me wrong, I was very excited to be going to a tropical paradise. New York was in the middle of a cold snap, snow falling almost every day. I couldn’t wait to dig my feet in the warm sand and have the sun shine all over my body. Even though this was a dream trip, the thought of what I would be coming back to had me on edge. I guess I should explain a few things before we get too in-depth.

First off, I just want to say that I love and respect my parents. I know they want nothing but the best for me BUT their opinions are not always wanted or even needed. My father is the main culprit when it comes to sharing his opinion on how his family should be ran. He pushed my sister and I to be the best of the best, and that also included our taste in men. He wanted Devin and I to marry men that belonged to successful families, themselves having to be successful as well in their own right. He would often take it upon himself to pick out guys he thought suit us best, convincing us to go on dates with them to see where the relationship goes. For Devin, she got a husband out of it. As for me, I got a headache from being so annoyed by these guys. Each guy my father introduced me to was a complete and total dick. Self-centered, womanizing, egotistical dicks! I eventually told my dad that enough was enough. I was losing brain cells and my patience was dwindling with each date I had.

I guess you could say my dad listened… For a total of 3 weeks. Before I knew what was happening, a guy was being pushed into my office with my father trailing close behind. He introduced himself as Luke Reynolds. He was the son of one of my father’s friends, a very prominent businessman in the area. Luke was born with a silver spoon in his mouth but didn’t show it like the others did. He was somewhat down to earth but I could sense a bit of entitlement in his mannerisms. He knew he was good looking, which he was, and knew that he could get any girl he wanted. At the time, I guess you could say I was desperate. I had been on multiple dates that my father set me up on and they were all shit. Even though I told myself that my dating days were over, I decided to give this guy one last chance. If this didn’t work out then I was going to drop everything and join the convent. To my surprise, the date went amazing. We had so much in common and I slowly started falling for the guy. We dated for a little over a year before he popped the question. At the time, I thought I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. He was my person. He was the type of guy my parents approved of. He was an all-out catch. Without thinking, I told him yes and the wedding planning began.

As the wedding got closer and closer, my feelings for Luke started to change. I went from wanting to be around him all the time to not even caring if I saw him for a couple of days. Just the things he said would annoy me. Finally, Bryn took notice and suggested a girls trip to get away from the craziness of wedding planning and my sudden annoyance to my future husband. She had worked it out where we would spend a week or two on a tropical island, away from Luke, away from my parents, and away from anything that had to do with the wedding. At first, I tried to tell her that it wasn’t a good idea. I didn’t feel like flying or even leaving my apartment building at the time. I was just so burnt out, deciding that I didn’t want to have any more human interaction. Of course, Brynn couldn’t take no for an answer and I guess you could say the rest is history.

“You know I’m excited.” I replied, a reassuring smile adorned my face. She looked at me for a second, probably knowing that I was lying to her. She didn’t say anything else and neither did I.

“Ladies and gentleman, I am happy to announce that flight 4673 to Montego Bay, Jamaica is now boarding at Gate 4. Please have boarding passes ready and available.” …
_________________________________________________________________ “Oh my gosh!” 


Bryn squealed as she took in the scenery of the island. “I feel like I’ve died and gone to Heaven.” I placed my things down on the bed, my body falling next to my suitcase. 

“We almost did.” I muttered. The flight from Miami to Jamaica was horrendous. The turbulence was awful and it didn’t help matters that Bryn was freaking out the whole time. I’m pretty sure my arm is bruised from how hard she was holding onto it. She was even making the people around us uncomfortable.

“Don’t be such a negative nelly, Lauren!” She exclaimed, throwing herself next to me. We laid in silence for a few seconds. “You’re gonna go out and have fun, right?” I turned my head, my eyes connecting with hers. I nodded my head. “Promise me.” Her voice decreasing an octave. “You need to have fun or else I’m gonna be very mad.” I couldn’t help but start laughing at her seriousness.

I took her hand in mine, “I promise that I will go out there and have the time of my life.” I watched as her eyes studied me. “You pinky swear?” She asked, sticking out her right pinky. I immediately wrapped my pinky finger around hers. “I pinky swear.” Bryn Coleman was the person I trusted most in life. I trusted her more than my parents and sister combined. Bryn was always there when I needed her, even if it was 3am and I needed advice on what shampoo to use. Yeah, there were times when I wanted to choke her to death, but she was my person. She was my best friend. She was my pinky swear partner.

“What do you say we go out to one of those clubs tonight?” She removed herself from the bed. “I heard from this girl I work with that they get pretty wild.”

“Sure.” I replied, my gaze going back to the ceiling above me. I wasn’t really into the whole night club scene but I wasn’t gonna let Bryn go by herself, especially in a place like Jamaica! Maybe I needed to take Bryn’s advice and stop being a negative nelly. This vacation was planned on my behalf. I needed to get the stick out of my ass and have some fun. Who knows, this could be the last time I have an adventure like this…

“Come dance with me!”

Bryn had her hands reached out to me, an annoyed look on her face. As soon as we walked through the club doors, Bryn made her way onto the dance floor and started dancing with those around her. I was never big on dancing so I decided to take a seat at the bar and order myself a drink. I made sure to keep my eyes on her while I sipped on my drink. “Lauren!” She yelled my name, causing those around me to stop and look. I could feel my face get red with embarrassment, sending daggers in Bryn’s direction.

I took one last drink before getting up and following a now ecstatic Bryn to the dance floor. The place was packed with people, some with the spouses and others dancing with strangers. The reggae music filled the hot, stuffy air. I held onto Bryn’s hand as she led us to the front of the stage. Once up front, Bryn’s hips started swaying to the beat of the music. I soon followed suit, slowly getting into the club’s vibe. We must have danced for almost an hour before Bryn announced she had to use the restroom. I took this as my opportunity to sit down and get a drink as I waited. I made my way back to the bar, ordering myself another beer. Before I could hand the bartender, he shook his head, refusing to take the money. “Already paid for.” He stated, pointing toward the end of the bar. I looked to where his finger was pointing, seeing three guys leaning against the bar, drinking their own drinks. Two were blonde, the other had a head full of chocolate curls.

I watched as they looked out at the crowd, talking and laughing at times. The one guy must have felt my stare as his head turned and his eyes connected with mine. I quickly looked away, acting like I was looking in the other direction. I could feel my face heat up in embarrassment as I kicked myself for staring too long, getting caught right in the act.

“How’s your beer?” I jumped in surprise as a man’s voice sounded in my ear. I quickly turned around, seeing the guy who had caught me staring. “Woah-” He started to laugh. “I didn’t mean to scare you; Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I muttered out, taking a drink of the beer. I couldn’t help but check the guy out. First off, he was incredibly tall! He was almost as tall as Luke, maybe an inch or two shorter. His bleach blond hair resting nicely on his tan, tattooed shoulders. His all black ensemble made him stick out like a sore thumb among the other patrons. “You wanna another drink?” He took the empty seat next to me. I watched as he flagged down the bartender, signaling to order two more beers.

“You bought the beer?” I questioned. “How’d you know I even liked beer?” I turned my body to face his, my knee accidentally brushing against his. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, placing one in his mouth. He motioned for me to take one. I put my hand up, declining the offer. “I saw you drinking one earlier. Figured you needed another one after dancing the night away.” He said nonchalantly.

“Are you stalking me?” I asked. His head turning, our eyes connecting once again. His green eyes held a hint of mischief and wonder. I couldn’t help but start smirking. “Who are you?” He pulled his cigarette out of his mouth, blowing out the smoke he’d been harboring.

“Duff, Duff McKagan.” He placed his hand out for me to shake. I could feel my smirk growing larger. “What’s yours?” He questioned, his lips forming into a smirk. I debated on telling him my real name. I had no idea who this guy was. I was far away from home. What if I told him and he turns out to be a stalking murderer? “Molly.” I lied. “Molly Jones.” I shook his hand. His hand felt rough and callused. The smirk stayed on his face as he shook my hand. I don’t know if he could tell I was lying of not but he was going with it for now. “So, Molly-”He began. “What brings you to Jamaica?”

Before I could answer the question, Bryn came busting through the crowd. “Lauren!” She giggled once she reached me. “Lauren, I thought you left me or something.” She wined, grabbing onto my neck and holding me. I looked over a Duff, giving him an apologetic smile. “The bathroom here is so groady. There were people doing lines of coke off the nasty sink, I thought I was back in Brooklyn or something.” The smile that was on Duff’s face only grew as he nursed his drink and smoked his cigarette. Bryn soon let go of my neck, her head turning to face where Duff was sitting.

“You’re in my seat”! She yelled toward him. “That’s my seat, mister!” Duff turned to look at her. “Bryn, chill out.” I muttered. I was a bit embarrassed by the way she was acting. She went to the bathroom completely fine and now she was making a show of things. “He’s in my seat, Lauren.” She cried out. “Get him out of my seat.” She slumped her body against mine, almost knocking me off the bar stool. It was as if she went from being a 23-year-old woman to a three-year-old child.

“I can leave if that’s what she wants.” Duff spoke up. I quickly shook my head no, telling him to stay put. “We’re actually gonna leave.” I stumbled out of the chair, keeping a strong hold on my now high friend. “You need some help?” He quickly stood up, taking Bryn’s elbow in his grasp.

“Get your hands off me, guy!” Bryn exclaimed. She jerked her elbow out of Duff’s hand, turning to me and wrapping her arms back around my neck. “I’m sorry.” I mouthed to him. He gave me a smile and nodded. “Thanks again for the beer.”

“Sure thing.” I was starting to feel bad for lying to him. “Maybe I’ll see you around or something.”

I nodded my head the best I could, “Maybe you will.” I could feel Bryn’s grip on my neck grow tighter. “Let me get her back to the hotel before she makes a bigger ass of herself.” Duff and I said our goodbyes before I dragged Bryn out of the club.

Once outside, I set Bryn down on the bench and hailed for a taxi. “He was kind of cute.” Bryn muttered. I looked over at her, confusion written on my face. “The guy in there, the blonde guy.” She was talking about Duff. “You were totally into him.”

“Was not.” I quickly defended. “I was just talking to him.”

Bryn let out a laugh. “Lauren, you are a terrible liar.”  

I rolled my eyes, turning back to the road to see where the damn taxi cab was. I don’t know what Bryn was talking about. There was no way I was into Duff. I didn’t even know the guy! He was just a guy that bought me a drink at the bar. That’s it and that’s all it will ever be...

[stormtrprinstilettos]

“And how should I serve you?” - (1983) Roger x Reader (smut)

Summary: It’s 1983 and Queen is recording their next album at the studio where you work, and things get a little heated between you and the drummer.

Series Masterlist here

In this “episode”: Maybe Montreux isn’t all it was supposed to be.

Word Count: ~5k

Warnings: The usual, smut and language. 18+ please.

[A/N: I know the timeframe is off. I know. I know. Don’t @ me. But one part of this is idea that was discussed with @hannafuckingsucks over a month ago and I am finally to the point in the story where it fits! Amazingly, an anon sent in an idea that also ties perfectly into it, so, this is for you too! And the other big thing in here is per a few anon requests (again, I’m sorry for taking so long to get to it – all of you wanted it to happen sooner, except for one who wanted it to happen now). Unless y’all send me in more ideas, this is going to be the last one in this little series here unless/until I get more in the inbox or something popping into my head. I personally don’t want to let 1983 Roger go, but… Yeah.]

Permatags: @clogwearingspacepoodle @briansfatbottomgirl @culturefiendtrashqueen @jennyggggrrr @shutup-sorry @dontstopmemeow @letmelivetaylor @tommyleeownsme

Tagging: @fixedonroger @a19103 @ginabaker1666 @rogahmeddowstaylah @imaginesandideas @rogertaylorscar @painkiller80 @rogerrhqpsody @quirkydeaky @nicholeh7 @biscuit-barrel @capsparrowtara @benfckinghardy @luvborhap @shhhs3cret

“It’s beautiful here,” you tell Roger as you look out of the window at the nighttime view, the moon full and lighting up everything it’s glow touches with absolute perfection.

“Yeah, and quiet. Quite a retreat from the madness.” “We usually stay in a house when we’re here, but I thought you and I could stay here. Less time between here and the studio, since the studio is downstairs and all.”

“Do you hear that?” You turn and face him, wrapping your arms around his waist and looking up at him “That silence is telling us that we are completely alone.”

“Finally,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” you whisper. Your shared smile and adoration is interrupted by a banging on the door. “Really?” you fuss in a humored whine.

He walks to the door and you turn back to soak in the amazing view of the water and mountains in the distance. You can hear laughter and voices coming from the other room but try your hardest to ignore them, silently wishing for whoever these people are to just go away. But they don’t.

“Hey, babe, come meet the guys,” he says, poking his head around the corner. Not exactly the night you were hoping, but you keep your groaning to yourself and go meet his other bandmates.

They’re nice enough – nothing wrong with them on a personal level, but you wish they would leave. They’re all drinking way too much and being way too loud and obnoxious, even Roger. At 11pm you’ve had enough of this “fun” and excuse yourself to bed. Not that you were going to get any sleep. The walls are surprisingly thin, and you can hear everything. Every footstep. Every cough. Every cigarette being lit. Every word. Everything.

“Does she have any friends, Rog?” you hear one of them ask. “I need to get me one like that.” There’s another one who jokingly asks how much he’s paying for you, and another that cracks a joke about the age difference, and you break down. You think that maybe this was a mistake after all. Or maybe they’re just that drunk, you don’t know. They’re definitely not like the others. Brian, John and Freddie never talked about you like that and never treated you with anything but respect.

They finally leave around 1am and Roger comes sneaking in the bedroom, trying to be quiet but he keeps knocking things over as he’s trying to undress and it’s starting to piss you off more than you already are. But you seethe quietly, because you don’t even want to talk to him. He finally crawls into bed and scoots himself behind you, and pulls you tight to him, but you don’t react. “Are you sleeping?” he whispers loudly, and you stay quiet. “Wake up, Y/N,” he whispers again. “I’m fucking hard and I need you.”

“You smell like a liquor cabinet and cigarette smoke,” you snap, not turning around to face him.

He snuggles his face into your neck and rubs your leg with one of his hands. “But baby, I really…”

“You need help?” you snap again. “You have two hands. Help yourself.” You push his hand away and move yourself to give some distance. He rolls over onto his back and starts laughing. “Go to sleep, Roger,” you groan.

He gets out of the bed and walks to the bedroom door, which he smacks himself in the face with when he opens it. “Fuck!” he yells out with pain in his voice, and you jump up and rush to him. “I hit my fucking nose!”

You know you shouldn’t laugh. He’s hurt. But you can’t help laughing anyway. “Idiot,” you giggle. “Come on.” You guide him out to the living room that is littered with empty beer bottles. “Sit down,” you tell him as you push him to the sofa and turn on the lamp. “You’re bleeding.”

When you walk back in with towels, he’s looking up at you, a pathetic look on his lightly bloodied face. “If you’d have just had sex with me this wouldn’t have happened,” he chuffed.

“I was planning on having sex with you but we were rudely interrupted,” you quip as you sit next to him and hold a towel to his nose. “Did you forget how doors work?”

“It was dark. I couldn’t see,” he tells you with a smile on his face. You roll your eyes and bring his hand up to hold the towel himself. “You’re so pretty,” he slurs slightly. “I’m a fucking asshole.”

“Not always,” you grin. “But right now you’re an asshole with a bloody nose.”

“I think I broke my face,” he groans, moving the towel away.

You look at his face with an amused look. “Nope. Still adorable,” you giggle. “An adorable asshole with a bloody nose.” He’s sorry for what happened tonight. You can see it all over his face. “Hey, it’s alright,” you tell him. “I know I can’t keep you to myself all the time.”

“Not exactly how I wanted our first night here to go,” he murmurs. “But tomorrow night? I promise. You and me.”

… but it didn’t exactly happen that way, because he stayed in the studio until 3am. The next night he was there until 6am. Every single night for that entire first week, he would either be at the studio until some ungodly hour, drunk with “the guys,” or both. You told yourself it was stupid to be angry about it. He’s there to work – he never said he wasn’t there to work. He didn’t bring you there to coddle you. Sure, he told you that you’d have your evenings together, but you know how recording goes. There’s really no set timeframe, and when the music is flowing, you can’t stop making it because you promised your girlfriend dinner and a movie. It doesn’t mean you weren’t annoyed with it all, especially given how today is now Wednesday, and John, Brian and Freddie will be here any minute.

“There she is!” Freddie exclaims when he walks in and sees you reclining in the living room. “Where’s your shadow?”

“Same place he’s been for most of the last week. The studio.”

“Uh oh,” John sings. “Trouble in paradise?”

“No, no trouble,” you say with a smile. “It’s actually nice having no responsibilities.”

“Ah, only responsibility being to be pretty and fuck him whenever he wants it, right?” Freddie jokes. You purse your lips and raise a brow. “Don’t tell me you’ve already started to deny him when he fucks up!” he laughs heartedly.

“Hey! I will have you know I was only denied once,” Roger shouts as he walks in and points to his bruised nose. “And this is what happened, so I don’t think I’m ever going to be denied again.”

“You punched him?” Brian asks you, somewhat horrified but also just a tad amused.

“No, I didn’t punch him,” you giggle. “I wanted to, but the door took care of that for me.”

“You’ll never believe who I ran into about an hour ago,” Roger says, quickly changing the subject. “Bowie. He’s here for a few days. I told him I’d get all of you down to the studio tonight.” He turns and faces you and sees you’re starting to get annoyed. “You, too, Y/N.”

Queen – your favorite band. They always have been. David Bowie? Well, he’s second in your adoration. And when Roger told you that you were going to meet him – not just meet him, spend the night hanging out with him – you were ecstatic. You didn’t want to show it. You tried to keep your cool like you did the day he and the rest of the guys walked in the studio months ago. Roger was amused watching you meticulously fix your hair and take forever to pick out what you were going to wear. “You didn’t bother putting this much effort into your clothes the day you were going to meet me,” he joked. “I met you in jeans and a t-shirt.”

“That’s because I wasn’t trying to impress you,” you joked back, fluttering your eyes.

He – Bowie, that is – was utterly charming when you met him. He held your hand and kissed it like a proper gentleman, his voice soothing and a little deep. His humor was terrific, and although he wasn’t trying to, he had this aura of mysteriousness surrounding him. And when he would talk, you paid very close attention. And when you all went to get dinner, he pulled your chair out for you and helped you sit down. Roger hated it.

Now here you are, in the studio with all of them. You’ve been around these guys long enough to witness their bickering in the studio. Whether it be because of a chord change in a certain place, lyrics being changed, the tempo – didn’t matter. They bickered. Some days the bickering was constant. Sometimes it would explode into an all out shouting match. But nothing you had ever witnessed could prepare you for this moment you’re witnessing right now.

It’s been a few hours, listening to them banter and play music, including you in all of it. But the best was sitting here watching Freddie and David – he insisted you call him that – trying to out-diva each other. Freddie would sing something, and David would have to do it louder. David would sing something, and Freddie would have to do it more dramatically. It was hilarious.

Just as he would do back in Los Angeles, if something didn’t sound right or didn’t seem like it fit, Freddie was on the speaker asking for your input. Not David. He wouldn’t use the speaker. He would walk out and come sit right next to you and discuss what the problem was. It was harmless, but Roger didn’t think so.

He didn’t like the way you’d smile, or the way you’d get smiled at, or how your arms would touch, or how you’d play with the underneath of your hair while intently listening. You knew it was getting to him and you played it up big time. He hasn’t given you much attention since you arrived. He’s barely even touched you. So maybe, you thought, if you’d flirt just a little too much he would give you the attention you’ve been aching for. And David? Well, he didn’t mind the flirting one bit. He ate it up, and he would flirt right back. You were being quite giggly, a bit too much for Roger’s liking. You used to giggle and flirt with him like that when you first met, after all. They were trying to work out a particular drum part for this song they were making you and David were having what looked like a very flirty conversation. You were really only sharing L.A. stories, but he couldn’t hear you from way on the other side of the room behind the glass.

“Rog, concentrate, for fuck’s sake,” Freddie scolds from the desk. He turns and looks back at you. “Go give him a blowjob so he relaxes and stops being so fucking useless,” he laughs.

“Go on,” David jokes. “We won’t watch. Promise.” He smiles and gives you a wink, and that was the last straw for Roger, who throws his drumsticks on the ground and rushes out of the box.

You stand up to greet him, but he says nothing, instead opting to grab your arm and walk out of the studio. You hear the rest of the guys chuckling as you do, making comments about how maybe the blowjob was going to happen. When the door slams behind you, you stop walking and yank your arm away, infuriated with Roger. “What is wrong with you?” you yell. “And who in the hell do you think you are dragging me out like that?”

“Who in the hell do you think you are throwing yourself at him in front of my face?” he yells back. Your forehead wrinkles and your eyes squint as your lips purse together. “Oh, I could see everything. Everything,” he sneers.

You’re seething inside. He’s never acted like this before, and you start to wonder if this is who he really is. Easily jealous and domineering. This isn’t what you signed up for. “Oh, so you saw me when I tore off my pants, got on his lap and fucked the shit out of him?” you snarked dramatically. “Thank god, because I really didn’t know how to tell you it happened!”

“You’re here with me, Y/N, not him!” he yells.

“Yes, I’m here with you,” you snarl. “Although I think you forget I’m here half the time because you’re too busy drinking until you can’t even walk straight when you could be spending just a little bit of your time with me like you promised.”

“Where are you going?” he carps as you start to walk away. “We aren’t finished.”

“We are finished,” you sneer. “Enjoy the rest of your night. I’ll see you whenever you come to bed, as usual.” You storm off in a rage and go back to the apartment.

He eventually comes to bed. You have no idea what time it is, but the sun is up now, and the first thing he does is lay on his back and gets as close as possible to you. You nuzzle up to him, laying your head on one shoulder and your hand on the other, not awake fully. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispers. “I don’t know why…” You bring your hand up to his mouth and cover it, letting him know you want him to stop talking, and he starts to chuckle. “Go back to sleep.” He grabs your leg and wraps it over his waist. “I love you,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head.

“I love you too,” you mumble. “Pull something like that again and I’m going to break your face for real,” you giggle. “Did the song get finished?” You raise your head and rest your chin on his shoulder.

“Mmm hmm.” He looks over at you and smiles. “I’ll play it for you later.” He puckers his lips, beckoning you for a kiss, and you oblige with a soft peck. “I’m sorry you’re not enjoying yourself here.”

“I actually love it here,” you tell him. “It’s beautiful. Just wish I could see you more, that’s all.”

“I know,” he groans. “Me too. I’ve been a complete dick.”

“Yes you have,” you giggle as you kiss his neck. “You owe me.”

“After we get some sleep, I’m all yours,” he smiles. “I am doing nothing today but spending it with my girl.” You give him another kiss before laying your head back on his shoulder and drifting off to sleep.

“Hey,” you hear Roger whisper in your ear. “Wake up.” You hurry and sit up, and he’s sitting next to you on the bed. “You’ll sleep until tomorrow if I let you,” he chuckles as he pats your hip.

You slowly sit up and groan. “I hardly slept, Roger. What time is it?”

“2:00,” he laughs. “Get up. Come on,” he says, dragging you out of bed. “I’ve sent specific instructions that you and I are not to be bothered today by anyone.” A big, toothy grin happens upon his face. He’s obviously excited about something, but you don’t ask.

After getting showered and dressed, he walks you down to a quaint little sidewalk café where you enjoy lunch. The occasional person would stop by and glance, clearly recognizing him, but none would ever stop and bother him. “Word must have gotten around to everyone not to bother us today,” you giggle. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever been somewhere with you where no one is coming up to you.”

Everything was perfect. You strolled around old town, did some window shopping (he wanted to buy you everything you said you liked, but you wouldn’t let him) and walked along the lake. The conversation never wavered – it never did when you were with him. And he held your hand and gave you sweet kisses, in full public view, announcing to the world that you were his.

You sit together by the lake, arms wrapped together, your head on his shoulder, watching the amazing sunset that looked like a perfect painting. “Thank you for bringing me here,” you tell him.

“You showed me the sunset in L.A. I thought it was only nice to repay you for that,” he says.

“No,” you giggle and look up at him. “I mean here, to Montreux. To be with you.”

He sighs deeply and smiles a benevolent smile. “It’s not going exactly as I planned.”

“You mean you didn’t plan on being a jealous, raging bull last night?” you quip. “I could have sworn that was somewhere in the plan.”

“I’m really sorry about that,” he says, quite embarrassed. “I don’t know what got into me.” You lightly pinch the tip of his nose, crinkle yours, and put your head back down on his shoulder. “I take it you don’t want to come to Munich, given how this has been a complete disaster.”

“I never said that,” you say. “And this isn’t a complete disaster, silly. We’re sitting here now, aren’t we?” He chuffs and shakes his head. “I knew you were going to be working, Roger. It’s not like this is a vacation.”

“I promised you time,” he groans. “And I haven’t given you any.”

“I don’t need your time 24 hours a day. Besides, if you’d have been around constantly I wouldn’t have found that bakery that makes the best chocolate croissants I’ve ever had in my life.”

“What else have you been getting up to?”

“Nosing around, pretty much. The lady at this antique shop not too far from here and I have become pretty good friends,” you giggle. “She’s learning English so she likes to talk to me.”

“Antiques, huh? Freddie will love to hear you like antiques.”

“Oh, we already talked about that. I mean, it’s not like I know what I’m looking at. I only went in because she saw me gawking at a ring she had in the window and insisted I try it on.”

He sits there and adoringly listens to you ramble on about the people you’ve met and the things you’ve seen. “And there’s a nice little boutique shop next door that has this shirt I think I’m going to buy tomorrow. It’s a bit more pricey than I usually pay for clothes, but I think I’ll treat myself.”

He clears his throat and quickly changes the subject. “Remember when I asked you what you wanted out of life? What did you say?”

“To be happy,” you reply with a smile.

He holds two fingers under your chin and tilts your head, looking deep into your eyes. “Do I make you happy, Y/N?”

“Yes,” you say softly. “You make me happier than I’ve ever been.”

He smiles lovingly, his eyes reflecting the setting sun. “Do you know what I want out of life?”

“Money. Fame. Fancy things,” you laugh.

“That’s all nice,” he laughs. “But no.”

“Well then,” you say, shifting your body to face him. “What does Roger Taylor want out of life?”

“To make you happy.”

“Well then you have succeeded.” You lean in and give him a quick kiss.

“Ah, I may make you happy now,” he says dramatically with his finger raised before turning serious, “but I want to always make you happy, Y/N.”

“Well, keep up the good work,” you giggle.

He sighs. “I’m trying to be serious here.”

“Ok, ok I’m sorry,” you giggle before taking a deep breath and forcing yourself to stop being silly.

He looks out over the lake, deep in thought. “Where do you see yourself in 10 years?”

“Hopefully wherever you are,” you smile, holding his arm and resting your head back on his shoulder.

“What about in 20?”

“Roger?” you ask with a nervous laugh. “What…”

He interrupts you. “Marry me.”

You start to choke and quickly lift your head up, looking at him. “What?”

He has a huge smile on his face as he turns to look at you. “Marry me,” he whispers.

“Roger…” A happy tear falls down your cheek and he wipes it away with his thumb.

“I know this is crazy and maybe even compulsive. And I know you probably wonder if I’m only doing this because of last night but I promise you I’m not because I got this yesterday…” He holds out the ring you fell in love with at that antique shop, and your mouth falls open. “Fred told me you mentioned it and the lady there said that when you tried it on it was a perfect fit…” You’re genuinely stunned right now. “I was going to wait until we left here. There’s this small town in Germany I was going to take you to when we drive to Munich…”

“Roger,” you hold up a finger to his lips. “You’re rambling.”

“Yeah, sorry. I thought we could drive to Munich from here and…”

“Roger…” You try to stop his rambling again, but he doesn’t hear you.

“… there’s this town that is quaint and quiet and…”

“Roger! Stop talking!” you laugh. “Are you going to put it on my finger or not?”

The big smile comes back to his face and he relaxes. “So you will?”

You jokingly shrug. “I’ve always been crazy and compulsive so there’s no reason to stop now.” But you quickly give him a genuine, adoring smile. “And because I love you and I want to see what happens in 20 years.”

“I love you,” he tells you with a whisper before kissing you while putting the ring on your finger. “Should we go back?”

“Oh, I think so.”

“I’d put on some music, but I don’t want to drown out the sounds of your sexy little moans,” he grumbles, pulling you close to him.

“Mmm,” you murmur as he gives you a deep, passion filled kiss. “I’ve missed you.”

He gives you a deep chuckle. “I have a lot to make up for, don’t I?”

“Absolutely,” you say as you push him away from you. “You better give me whatever I want.”

“I’ll do anything you want me to as long as you keep looking at me like that.”

“Anything, huh?” you smirk and sit down on the bed. “Get those clothes off, then.”

He smiles as he kicks off his shoes and starts to unbutton his shirt, unbuckle his belt and unfasten his pants. You’re already breathing hard just from watching him. It’s been far too long. Sure, it’s only been just over a week, but considering how you’d normally get it almost every night, it’s been far too long. You just know you’re about to get a good one here and now. He looks you in the eye and gives you a 'I hope you're ready for this' look and you start to giggle.

He slides his pants down and steps out of them, standing up straight to give you the best possible view of his swelling cock. He quickly finishes taking off his shirt, and now he’s standing in front of you, completely naked. You look him up and down, inspecting him and smirking as you bite down on your lip. You sit on the edge of the and motion him over, and he reaches out to touch your face. He pulls your face to his and kisses you as softly, licking your lips before running his tongue around your jawline to your earlobe. As he kisses his way lightly around your neck he massages your thigh with his other hand, causing you to instinctively spread your legs before pushing him away. He grins as he takes off your shirt, then your shoes, your pants, and everything else. “Where do you want me to go?" he whispers.

"Don't tease me dammit, you know what I want..."

"I'm not sure, you'll need to give me some directions," he teases. "Tell me, Y/N. Tell me what you want me to do."

You reach up and push down on his shoulders with force and turn his face to yours. "If I have to tell you, I’m going home right now," you giggle.

“Yes ma'am," he says with a chuckle, falling to his knees. He starts at your inner thigh and licks his way up, slowly inching his way to be right where you want him.

“No teasing,” you whisper. “No time for that.” He wasn't about to disappoint you. He reaches around with both hands, grabbing your ass and pulling you to him. He puts his mouth over your pussy and uses his lips to spread yours so he can focus all of his attention on your clit. You weren’t lying when you said there was no time for teasing. You missed the feeling of his tongue on you so much that you almost immediately begin to cum, your fingers digging into his head. That didn’t stop him from sucking on your clit. Every muscle in your body tightens and convulses as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. The intensity is almost more than you can take, but he doesn't stop. He won’t until you tell him to. You’re speechless. The only sounds you can make are the loud moans and screams he’s making you give. He alternates between sucking your clit and setting it on fire with his tongue. You can't tell him to stop because you’re beyond speechless now. You push his head away, but he pulls you closer, relentlessly continuing his attack on your throbbing clit until you scream one more time and go limp.

He stands up and gazes playfully into your eyes, caressing each of your breasts with his open palms, letting your stiff nipples slide between his fingers so he can tweak them. He circles them with his fingertips, softly, watching your nipples grow even harder. Still looking into your eyes without a word, he slides his arms underneath your legs, raising them to his shoulders as he lines up his cock with your still pulsating pussy. “May I?” he asks, somewhat jokingly.

“You fucking better,” you giggle.

“And how should I serve you?” he asks with a sarcastic smirk.

You grin. “Hard,” you growl as you prop yourself up on your elbows.

He has absolutely no problem with that. He rams himself into you with great force, pulling you to him with his hands on your thighs each time he thrusts into you. You look deep into each other’s eyes; your faces telling everything you need to know. You are both right where you want to be and getting what you both so badly needed. He slows his pace to let you catch your breath, rubbing your tummy and gently massaging your tits, softly brushing over your nipples.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers as he starts to fuck you slowly now, with long, slow strokes. “I love being inside you.”

“Right where you belong,” you coo with gaspy breath and a smirk. You can see in his eyes that he’s getting closer before he even started to pick up the pace of his thrusts. "Give it to me,” you groan. “Give it all to me."

He reaches down with his thumb and begins to rub your clit with firm circles as he gets even closer and closer, feeling you start to spasm. He pushes even deeper into you. “I’m ready,” he groans loudly. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m ready.”

“Do it,” you grunt. “You’re making me cum.” His cock pulses and throbs and your walls constrict around him as his load shoots into you. He keeps thrusting until he’s unable to stand, collapsing his face softly onto your stomach, wrapping his arms around you, his most favorite spot in the world.

Your arms wrap around him as you rub and pat his head. With a soft and sweet giggle, you purr. “Good boy."

He slides up into the bed, and you slide up to lay next to him, still basking in your collective glow, and rest your head on his chest. “I may not be able to do that in 20 years,” he chuckles. “Keep it up and you may even wear me out long before then.”

“I don’t care,” you say. “As long as you can still hold me in 20 years I’ll be just fine.”

He kisses the top of your head and squeezes you tightly. “You’ll really marry me?” he asks, almost as if he’s baffled that you said you would.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” you say softly as you look at the ring on your hand and smile. You shift yourself to have your face next to his, a tinge of worry washing over you. “You don’t think this is what I was looking for this whole time, do you?”

“Not at all,” he grins. “If I recall correctly, you didn’t want any of this.” You roll your eyes and start to laugh. “Well, you didn’t. You just wanted to use me for sex then toss me in the bin when you were done.”

“Oh like you started all of this with serious intentions,” you laugh and playfully slap his chest. “You didn’t want any of this either.”

“You’re right, I didn’t,” he smirks. “I just wanted you to be my little play thing in L.A.” You roll away from him onto your back, but he rolls over as well and hovers over you. “But now that I’ve got you, I’m never letting you go.”

[cassie-and-ren]

I’d never forget...

    You clicked through the questions on the module as the mundanely easy questions went by quickly. You finally got to the end and had to take a quiz that gauged how much you learned, you went through being sure your answers were all right, you double checked, heck, triple checked before hitting submit. As it was loading someone entered the room.

“There you are!” You quickly went on to another tab without being obvious about it, you looked up to your coworker who had a dumb look on his face.

“Yeah, I’m still on break.” You said.

“Good, we wanted to do something fun for the costume party we’re having tonight and we needed one more person to make even.” You sighed to him.

“Does it have to be me?”

“Yeah, everyone else is already in and it’s just a few of us left.” As much as you didn’t want to go with him, you knew he’d never leave you alone until you did, so you got up and followed him into the main room. You found many of your other coworkers gathered around a small glass bowl with several pieces of paper in it.

“Oh, the party for ASTRO?”

“Of course, they were nice enough to even agree to having this so we wanted to have a lot of fun!” You smiled a bit thinking back to the time you got to spend with the group. They were all sweet and active making for the whole thing to be more than fun. On the set you worked on the technical things, lights, special effects, editing, and so on. So your interaction with them was pretty limited outside of some questions. Still, of course your more than social boss decided to ask their manager if they wanted to come to a costume party to celebrate the finishing of their work. He agreed saying that they earned, through he wouldn’t force them to come if they didn’t want to. Of course they were all overjoyed to go to any kind of party.

“So what’s this thing even about?” You asked as he reached for a piece of paper and pen handing them to you.

“Write your name.” You looked at him, “Just listen to me and do it.” You wanted to hit him for how he spoke to you, but you rolled your eyes doing as he said. After he handed the paper and someone who put it into the bowel. “Well, we’re having kind of like a secret Santa, but instead of getting a gift, whoever picks your name picks the costume you have to wear.”

“You’re such a jerk, I don’t even want to go!”

“Don’t be such a loner, trust me you’ll have some fun for once.” He walked off, you sighed and leaned against the wall waiting to see who you got. Hopefully they were someone you worked with, maybe you could tell them to just forget about it and let you stay home for the night.

    So the picking went on for a while longer, things narrowed down and eventually someone picked your name, unluckily enough it wasn’t someone you knew but a few people from your department did. He had told you that he wanted to see you dressed up like Cinderella and would make sure you did. You honestly didn’t believe him and just finished up whatever work you had left before heading home for the night.

...

    It was about seven that night when you remember the school work you had up. Though you hated doing it, you had to, and thankfully your work paid off with a sweet 100%. It was also at this time that someone had been blowing your phone up, as well as knocking on your door. You figured who it was and answered the door. There you saw a slutty bee and police officer.

“Wow, you really weren't going to go?” The bee said.

“Good thing that outfits matches that tone, why are you guys here?” You said to them.

“I said I wanted to see you as Cinderella and I’d make sure that happened.” The bee held up a black bag.

“I never wore this because it doesn’t fit, but guess who it’s perfect for?” You wanted to just slam the door in their faces, but in light of your hard work you figured why not humor them and maybe you’d actually have some fun at this party.

“... I don’t have any glass slippers you know.” The bee smiled and held up a pair of shimmery silver pumps.

“You better not ruin these.”

    With you dressed all up, you all rode together to your office where you could already hear ASTRO’s music playing from inside. So of course, to make things worse, they had also given you a mask to wear to “hide your identity” so now you were at the party feeling like everyone was staring at you when you walked in…

    Minutes before you arrived there, ASTRO had been getting ready themselves. Jinjin was already ready and was waiting for everyone else. The first few of them to show up was Eunwoo and Rocky. Rocky chuckled seeing Jinjin.

“That’s a pretty loud outfit you picked.” Jinjin laughed.

“I didn’t like anything else, besides being a king suits me.” They both said nothing making him frown to them.

“We’re joking, it looks really good on you.” Eunwoo saved their skin, Jinjin was satisfied and moved on.

“What are you two?” Jinjin asked. Rocky spoke up first.

“I just won Gold at the summer olympics in Tennis.” Dressed up in a white tennis outfit he held up his “medal” with more pride than anything either of them had seen in their time knowing him.

“They had a gold medal?” Jinjin grabbed it feeling the cold plastic in his hands.

“Of course, it’s mine!” They both laughed at him staying in character so well, Eunwoo spoke up.

“I wanted to be Indiana Jones but this was the closest they had.” He was simply just dressed in explorer clothing, with the hat and everything. As they spoke for a bit longer eventually they all had to leave, so Eunwoo went to hurry everyone else up and they all promptly left.

    Chopper Sanha was the first person to get out as he noted their songs playing.

“I didn’t think this was really for us!”

“They invited us saying that it was, what did you think they meant?”

“That we could just come?” Just then Mad Scientist MJ let out a crazed laugh making everyone jump a bit in surprise.

“Let’s go inside already I can’t wait to see the other victims- I mean costumes.” MJ said as he remained in character the whole time. Munchlax Moonbin ran for the entrance holding onto the hat on his head. Everyone else followed and shortly everyone greeted them happy at their arrival. After a few minutes of them being surrounded by various people everyone stopped for a second to look at the door seeing you arrive in your sky blue cinderella dress. Though it wasn’t the royal blue of the original, they all still found you stunning and not knowing who you were added to that appeal.

    The boys of astro were especially looking, you couldn’t help but blush and made your way out of everyone sights. When everyone resumed dancing, Jinjin couldn’t help but still be staring in your direction, even though he couldn’t see you, he was hoping that you’d come out and kept looking in that direction. That was until he was grabbed and pulled over by the rest of his members to see the chocolate fountain.

    Things felt like they’d never end, though the staring had ended, the dress you had been lent was huge at the bottom and dragged everywhere you went. Honestly the heels weren't helping as eventually you had to take a seat and rest for a while, you sighed thinking how stupid it was to even be there. It’s not like you were close friends with anyone at the party and even if you were, everyone was busy getting drunk or trying to pick up dates, two things you weren't interested in. You didn’t want to think about any of that as you bent over and rubbed the soles of your feet. When you put your heel back on suddenly a bright light was shone on you, you shut your eyes and put up your hand only to suddenly be grabbed and pulled into the crowd.

“Let go of me!” The person had done so and now you were in the middle of a large circle with other people who had a similar look of confusion. Someone spoke up silencing everyone. When the music now dimming you could hear him.

“Alright, it’s time for our lucky few who were picked for someone to come and pair up!” At that everyone cheered loudly.

“What?” Your voice was muted as everyone cheered louder when the first couple stood beside each other. One by one people came out from the crowd and stood beside the other person, now it was just you and no one was coming up.

“Hey aren’t you that prince from Cinderella?” Jinjin looked to Sanha.

“No, I’m not-” Sanha, along with Moonbin, pushed him excusing anyone they were shoving until he now stood in the center with you. Everyone cheered when he stumbled in front of you, even you were a bit shocked to see him. When he got his footing he turned around only to see that Sanha and Moonbin were gone from his sight.

“Well it seems everyone is paired off, so why don’t we start this off with a romantic slow dance!” The music started to get louder and a slow theme played, everyone was getting closer until all either of you could see was slow swaying of couples. Jinjin turned back to you, you two stared at each other for a while, Jinjin took a small breath and got closer to you holding out his hand.

“D-do you want to dance?” Even though his face was somewhat red at his question, you were the same from it as well. Your hand rose and touched his.

“I would l-love to.” You said simply. Jinjin smiled and got closer putting his hand at your waist, he seemed as if he was respecting your boundaries by only placing one hand at your waist, the other remained holding your hand while your other hand rested on his shoulder. As the song went on you felt more relaxed beside him, you smiled and spoke softly hoping not to have others hear you.

“... Is it okay for me to rest my head on you?”

“No! I mean… yeah that’s fine.” You smiled and lowered your head on his shoulder, you felt some pressure from him doing the same and the space between you two seemed to disappear. You knew the song was ending, and as much as you didn’t want to leave him you knew you would have to. Though he seemed to be making no effort in letting you go. When the sound of clapping and the song change prompted you two to seperate, everyone started to crowd the center again. Jinjin’s hand never let yours go. He wanted to ask your name but in the midst of everything, he knew here was the worst.

“Do you know any place quiet!” He yelled.

“Yeah, on the second floor!” He nodded and with that began to drag you through the crowd, he held onto your hand with a death grip until he was sure he wouldn’t lose you pushing through everyone. He let you go up ahead of him and you led him into a room that led onto a small balcony where normally people went to eat lunch. You both could still hear the music but with it muffled you could finally hear your own thoughts and each other. In this small moment of silence, Jinjin just decided to go for it and turned to you. Though you beat him to it.

“You’re Jinwoo right?” He blinked confused for a moment, but then nodded.

“Yeah… do you listen to astro?” You nod with a bright smile.

“I thought I recognized you but with everything that happened tonight I wasn’t thinking right.” He chuckled to you.

“Well things don’t seem to be going to bad, everyone loves your costume.”

“I guess…” Your dejected voice caused him to wonder.

“I mean, I really like it too, did you spend a lot on it?” You shook your head.

“I guess it was those guy’s plan to make me wear this, I was put into some raffle where I was picked to wear this, now I know why.”

“Oh…” He simply said.

“Did you all know about this?”

“Oh no, I didn’t know what was going on either, then I was dragged by my members.” You giggled to him, he smiled hearing that.

“You guys really do act like family huh?”

“Yeah try living with five other kids!” You laughed.

“But it must be fun at least? I mean you never have to worry about adults ruining things,”

“Yeah, instead I have to do that.”

“No way, you play around with them, I’ve seen it.”

“I do, but sometimes someone has to be the mature one and stop things before they get bad.”

“But I bet that doesn’t happen often?” You joked. Jinjin smiled to you and started sharing a few humorous stories.

    From there you two talked about anything you could. Almost like old friends and for hours you two went on talking to each other about any and everything, sharing laughs, memories, and even hobbies with each other. You felt like you learned about Jinjin’s whole life and time just flew by.

“Can I ask something?” Jinjin said.

“Go ahead?” You two were sitting side by side on the balcony wall.

“What would you be doing if you weren't at this party?” You smiled looking down at your feet, which were now bare of your shoes.

“Well, I’d be studying.”

“Really?”

“Yep. I trying to get a higher degree so I can work where I want.”

“What is it that you want to do?” A smile came to your face.

“I still want to work with idols but closer, I want to be the boss of either this place or my own company so I can work with the idols and see what works best for them… I just love it when a music video or live stage comes together so perfectly it gives you shivers!” You looked to him. “Haven’t you ever felt that watching your stuff or others?”

“Yeah, it’s a weird feeling but you almost feel like you stop breathing, and when you breath again it’s like…” He made a gesture with his hand. “Just wow!” You nodded.

“Exactly!” You rested your back on the wall. “I can’t believe someone else gets it.” Jinjin turned his head as if not to be caught staring.

“Did people not believe you before?”

“No… I was told all the time that this is just for work. I’m making a living but this stuff is much more than that! Your music touches people in more ways than just physical. Songs move people to feel emotions they normally can’t otherwise, like it reawakened this lost feeling. I love it when people say that and I would love to try and work on the things I know people want…” You shook your head. “But I can’t right now. So I’m working hard so I can move or maybe even leave entirely and do what I want.” Jinjin couldn’t help but listen to every word you said. What he described before was exactly what he was feeling now.

“I really hope you can do it.” You looked to him. “You’re so passionate about all this!” You smiled to him. You looked off away from his face.

“Say… would you like to work with me if I ever managed to do this?” He looked to you. “I mean, I need more experience in some things-”

“No, if you were one of the people who worked on our recent MV then you’re already amazing! I loved it and everything about you- uh it I mean…” Though you knew Jinjin likely had no clue what it was exactly that you did, hearing his praise caused you tear up a bit. You never got told anything good about your hard work. You were told it was all useless, that to get so worked up about it was pointless… So for Jinjin to recognize it overwhelmed you. Your hand came up to your face.

“W-why are you crying?” Jinjin hopped down crouching down trying to see your face, then you suddenly started to laugh.

“I’m sorry… I’ve just never been told anything good about my work.” Jinjin sighed with relief, you wiped your face and looked to him. “Thank you so much, Jinwoo!” Your faces were kind of close so while you were in your feelings your mouth came in contact with his cheek leaving a small peck there. When you pulled away you both blushed. “... Maybe we should get back to the party?” Jinjin didn’t look at you but noticed your shoes were off.

“Yeah… let me help you.” He bent down putting your heels on one by one. When you came down you were once more close to each other, Jinjin mentally told himself he’d regret this if he didn’t do this. Every fiber of him moved and grabbed you, you stumbled into his arms and soon felt his lips on yours. Your eyes went wide but soon you felt relaxed and your eyes slowly closed. His hand went to the small of your back closing whatever space was left between you two. Your hands went to his face holding his face in place as you two kissed. It moved quick, Jinjin licked your lips getting your mouth open. This moment would only last a while until:

“JINJIN! Where are you!” Jinjin broke the kiss hearing the loud yelling of his members. He went over to see them all waiting by the car. MJ spotted him.

“There he is! Come on we gotta go!” Jinjin sighed but moved back seeing you standing there, he went to you taking your hand once more he looked to your lips. You smiled to him and moved up first pecking his lips only to linger there for a small second. You looked at him with a flushed face and bright smile.

“It’s okay, just go we’ll meet again I’m sure, because you have to keep your promise.” He smiled hearing that and opened the door.

“I’ll work hard and keep looking for you!” He said running down the stairs. You giggled until you couldn’t hear him anymore. You sighed now that he was gone and made your way back inside. When you did the sound of clanking caught your attention. Something had fallen off your dress. It was a small silver bracelet.

“Was this his…?” You went back out hoping to still see the car there, but now it was gone. You sighed before looking at it. You smiled thinking of Jinjin before you put the bracelet on. When you met again you’d give this back to him…

    When you met again.

[alolowrites]

Victory on Roosevelt Avenue

I recently got inspired to write some fanfic again and I really wanted to do something with the World Cup and Peter Parker hahaha. This story was just inching to get itself written and I obviously caved in. It is my first story after a few years of not writing so sorry in advance if there are some mistakes. I promise to edit this once I have some free time! I just really wanted to post the story. 

Some key points: The story is written from the reader’s POV (I think I somewhat failed at this, so sorry again) and it is a Mexican!reader (female, sorry if I didn’t make it gender neutral!). The story is a bit AU since I completely ignored anything/everything that has to do with Infinity War (Thanos doesn’t exist, no one disappeared, Earth is safe, yadda yadda yadda). I just needed Peter to be alive for the World Cup okay? I think that’s about it. I hope you all enjoy the story! 

It’s around 10:35am on this fine Sunday morning, but you know why this particular Sunday is extremely special. Not only is it Father’s Day, but today is Mexico’s first match in the 2018 World Cup and the long strip of Roosevelt Avenue in Queens is very much alive and bursting with excitement. Last week, you invited Peter at school if he wanted to join you and your family in watching the upcoming game. Being the good boyfriend he is, Peter gladly agreed (especially since he could never say no to you).    

Yesterday you texted him the station where you two will meet and from there walk to the restaurant together. You were too busy checking your phone that Peter easily sneaks up behind you and plants a surprise kiss on your cheek.

You jump and turn around, but your shoulders relax when you see your lovely boyfriend with his famous brown locks. “Peter! You made it!”

“Did you think I wasn’t going to come? I’m offended,” Peter playful scoffs as he places his left hand over his heart. You roll your eyes, but chuckle before giving him a quick kiss on his lips. “So where are going?”

“To this restaurant called Taqueria Coatzingo. One of the best Mexican restaurants in Jackson Heights!” You explain as you hold his right hand and lead the way down the street. “I told my parents I would meet them there a few minutes before the game starts because I was waiting for you. You’re going to love the food, Peter! The make these incredible classic dishes like carne asada tacos, bistec a la Mexicana, or if you’re feeling quite adventurous: carnitas en salsa verde o roja, but whatever you choose, I promise you it will be a party in your mouth.”

The sixteen year old superhero rubs his stomach. “That all sounds delicious. Maybe I’ll take some food back for Aunt May. I’m sure she would love it.”

As you chattered away about the World Cup, Peter’s eyes glances around the vibrant avenue and is overwhelm over the happy chaos he sees. There were fans wearing bold, colorful outfits that embodied the Mexican flag. Some had luchador masks over their faces, others sporting large sombreros with comfortable ponchos. Peter even notices a man dressed up in a costume full of feathers with the face of an eagle perched on his head.

He turns his attention to you and sees the Mexican jersey you were proudly wearing. Peter then looks at himself and realizes how underdressed he felt: a boring blue button up shirt and denim jeans. He purses his lips and chastises himself for not putting more effort. He could have at least worn something green or red.

He feels so out of place.

Peter soon calls your name, interrupting your talk, and you hum while looking at him. Your eyes narrow as his face grows uncomfortable and his gaze falls to the ground. You also feel his hand tighten around its hold and realize something was wrong with him.

“Are you okay, Peter?”

His head snaps back up and begins to furiously nod. “Oh-h, yeah! I’m fine! Really!”

“Peter…I know when you’re lying,” you scold at him and gently tug his right hand. You stop walking and stand in front of him without losing your grip. Your other hand reaches out to caress his smooth, pale cheek and you brush a few of his curls away from his forehead. Peter sighs at your therapeutic touches, but he remains stressed. You place one finger underneath his chin and raise it so you were staring directly into his chocolatey, doe-like, eyes.

“What’s the matter? I know something is bothering you.”

“I’m just nervous,” he mumbles and you tilt your head in confusion. Peter glances behind your shoulder, the sea of green shirts waving in the distance. His ears pick up the boastful chants coming from the massive crowd and the Mexican music booming from nearby speakers.

“What do you mean?”

His eyes return their attention to you. “I honestly don’t know too much about the World Cup, and I am afraid I might say or do something so stupid that could end up offending your people. Plus, I’m not even dressed properly and it makes me stick out like a sore thumb. I could have at least worn the colors of your flag, but I guess I forgot. Besides: it’s Father’s Day! I feel like I’m intruding on this special day for you and your family!”

You quickly blink and laugh heartily, gripping his left shoulder. “Oh, Peter! Is that what you’re really worried about? If I’m being honest, I don’t follow too much about soccer except for the World Cup games. No matter how many times my dad or uncles try to explain the technicalities of the game, I still end up being confused.

“As for Father’s Day,” you continue, giving Peter’s hand a soft squeeze, “it’s no big deal that you’re here. My mom and dad are more than happy enough to welcome you into our festivities! If anything, they asked me to invite you because they know you’re a good person who makes me happy.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. You have nothing to worry about, trust me,” you reassure him with a brief peck on his lips. Peter smiles softly as he bends his head down to kiss you again. You close the space and snake your arms around neck as his own circles on your waist. The wolf-whistles from across the street break the romantic moment and you pull yourself away from Peter to annoyingly wave off the bystanders laughing. A chuckle rumbles through your chest as you see Peter’s face beat red. “Ignore them, they’re probably drunk already.”

“But it’s almost eleven!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Like that will stop them from not drinking their beer.”

Both of you share a laugh and you pat his bicep. “Listen, if you are still worried about saying something ‘wrong,’” you air-quote the last word with your fingers, “then let me just give you some advice. Number one: if you can, use the word fútbol instead of soccer in your conversation. You’ll get brownie points and earn a level of respect from a few fans in the crowd, but if ‘soccer’ slips from your lips, it’s fine. You’ll probably get a pass because, well,” you lower your voice to a whisper, “you’re white.”

Peter shrugs in understanding and you hold up two fingers. “Number two: when watching the game, don’t sweat if you’re lost. A lot happens within two 45-minute matches and if the game is extremely intense, like this one that we’re about to watch, then the excitement level from the crowd exponentially goes up. For your sake, just cheer loudly with everyone else when Mexico scores a goal. Can’t go wrong celebrating a goal for the Mexican team!”

You hold up three fingers. “Lastly, just relax and have fun. Don’t worry about not wearing the Mexican colors. Just being here shows support and earns a stamp of approval from my people. One of the things that I love most about the World Cup is that it is a sport that is universal. No matter what country you’re from, what language you speak or what color your skin is—everyone can sit and watch the games together which creates a sense of global connectedness.”  

“Wow,” Peter breaths out in astonishment and you giggle at his reaction. “Now I’m kinda embarrassed to not really appreciate the World Cup before. But I feel much better now.”

“Good,” you happily beam and gave a quick kiss on his lips again. “Now lets head to the restaurant before the game starts. I don’t want to miss a second of this match!”

The two of you run down the street and enter the lively restaurant overflowing with hundreds of fans. And true to your word, Peter relishes every single minute of the game. When Mexico scores their first goal, the whole place erupts in jubilation. You jump from your seat and tightly hug Peter, almost knocking him off his chair. He’s never seen you so emotionally invested before: cheering and clapping hard when a Mexican player runs across the field to make a goal or cursing and raising your hands in the air in exasperation when something horrible happens. The atmosphere of the restaurant certainly fuels how the crowd behaves and he found himself anxiously clutching his cup a few times throughout the game.

Once the final whistle blows through the speakers, officially ending the match, Peter swears he feels the ground shake as hundreds of people start celebrating the team’s historic victory. Basking in the euphoria after Mexico’s glorious win against the reigning champions, Germany, you tell Peter you were going to get some more water from the counter. He nods and, while grinning, starts to record a video of some Mexican fans singing Cielito Lindo at the top of their lungs. As you make your way back to your table, you notice your uncle gleefully pat Peter’s shoulders, but then the smirk on your face falls as you see the older man shove a certain drink into your boyfriend’s hand…  

“Oh my gosh, Tío!” You scream over the chants. “No le das una Corona a Peter! Él es menor de edad!”

Translation: “No le das una Corona a Peter! Él es menor de edad!” / “Don’t give Peter a Corona! He is underaged!” 

[barnesandnobleoffanfictions]

Addiction

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Request: Hi! I was wondering if I could send in a request? Maybe one that is very angsty; the reader and sherlock have a very compelling case, like the one in series four where sherlock develops a MASSIVE drug habit (for the case) and the reader does too. Only, she can’t simply ‘stop’ as easily as sherlock can, and he tries to help her before its too late? Also, if the pairing could be platonic, that’d be great! So sorry if it’s too specific. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to!

A/N: Really sorry if this didn’t come out how you’d like, i tried my best to stay with the prompt. This is my first request ever so I’m really nervous abt this one bc i think it sucks.

Warnings: Drug usage, mild swearing, angst, and SPOILERS

It had been 7 months since Mary died. Through out this entire time you had been there for both Sherlock and John. Comforting John as he became a widower and a single father. And helping Sherlock over come his guilt. It was only until recently that the boys started talking again, rekindling their friendship after the arrest of Smith. John still lives on own with Rosie, leaving Sherlock by himself once again. You lived on your own several towns away from London but still made the trip to visit Sherlock. You both didn’t expect much out of each other and that’s why you made such good friends.

You’d met simply by chance just passing by on the streets of London. After several more awkward encounters you and Sherlock had gotten close. He expected you to desert him during the few weeks he was off the deep end doing heavy drugs and stumbling about. It was you who proved him wrong and checked up on him before and after work. Helping him to bed when he got too rowdy and pulling him off the living room floor when he passed out.

Since his quick recovery Sherlock had been trying to get back to his normal, arrogant self. You considered yourself lucky that he was able to go cold turkey on the drugs, seeing how it was purely to help John’s case. In John’s absence you picked up a few loose ends in Sherlock’s cases. Eventually Sherlock considered you and John his two best friends.

You walked up to Baker street with your hands shoved into your coat pockets. You had just finished your day shift waitressing and received a few texts from Sherlock.

“(Y/n) I need you, come quickly. - SH”

“The sooner the better. -SH”

“(Y/n). -SH”

“S.O.S. -SH”

You came still branding your work shirt, but the puffy coat you wore covered it. A black beanie covered your ears and the autumn wind brushed past. You opened up the door of the building not bothering to knock. “Hello.” You called up the stairs, unzipping your coat and kicking off your boots.

Sherlock appeared at the top of the stairs. “Where have you been?” He asked dramatically. “I rang you several times.” You shook your head and laughed. “You always do that.” You started to walk up the stairs to meet him. “I told you it was urgent.” He pressed grabbing hold of your wrist and pulling you up the stairs faster. “It’s always urgent with you Sherlock. If you only rang me once then I’d know something was really wrong.” You teased sarcastically letting him pull you along.

When you and Sherlock made it to the living room he let go of your wrist and turned to face you. “I need your help.”

You looked around the messy flat, seeing papers and empty files scattered about. “What’s going on?” You asked shifting your weight. “I have a case.” He announced loudly walking to the window in the corner. As he stared out to the street you bit your lip and looked at him thoughtfully. “I’m not really seeing the issue here Sherlock. You love having cases, what’s wrong with this one?”

He looked you over to you, a deep scowl set on his face. “This one has to do with drugs. Not just any drugs, my drugs.” You glanced to the kitchen quickly, eyeing the chemistry set on the table. “You make drugs now huh?” You scoffed. You bit your bottom lip nodding your head in disbelief. “No I don’t make them I reproduce them. I have a case where a client says they were under the influence of a certain drug on the night an accident happened. I wasn’t able to get the same amount he had reported using. So I got a sample from him and made more of it. To the quantity he said he’d consumed that night. Now as a recovering addict and the host of this experiment I can’t consume the drugs to test his alibi. If a person consumes these drugs and becomes debilitated then we know it was an accident and most likely not him. If the person who consumes them is fine, my client is a murderer.” He explained quickly rushing about the room references to the table and papers as he spoke.

“So you called me here to do your dirty drugs?” You clarified sarcastically. Sherlock sighed loudly pinching the bridge of his nose. “In a sense, yes. I don’t have anyone else to do it.” He said following you as you turned to leave. You wanted to help Sherlock but you knew that in taking the drugs you were somewhat becoming like him. That side of him you fought with and stuck by those few terrible weeks would now come back in you. You were worried about what you’d say if you were high, you’d never done it before and didn’t know what toll it would take on your mind. You saw how insane they’d made Sherlock, how infuriating and rude they caused him to be. You knew that in saying this he would never understand.

“I’m sorry Sherlock, they’ve ruined too much in my life already. I won’t let them ruin me too.” You didnt look at him, you simply slipped through the door and closed it behind you.

You’d just spoiled an entire case for Sherlock. Instead of respecting your words he was infuriated by them. He had always sacrificed everything for his cases, and that’s why he did the drugs before. He didn’t do them out of selfishness. Sherlock didn’t bother looking after you outside the window. He was too frustrated to worry after you, now he had to try to find someone else who would be able to assist him without John or Mycroft finding out. Molly was not an option, she would surely refuse and Sherlock didn’t want to ask her to taint herself like that. Settling down by the fireplace he resorted to his mind palace for other options.

Work had dragged on the next day for you. Business was slow giving you much more time than you needed to be alone and think. You decided you text Sherlock, hoping that he’d figured it out and solved the case.

“Morning!”

The door bell chimed, signaling another costumer had come in. You went to greet them at the door ushering them to a table and returning with menus. As you introduced yourself you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. After a short chat you made your way back into the kitchen fetching your phone out. “Oh it is. Have you decided to help? - SH”

Your heart sunk slightly, this telling you both that he hadn’t slept and that he was mad at you. You hesitated while thinking of a reply.

“I’m sure that you can find other ways.”

You went to put your phone away when it buzzed in your hand again.

“This is the only way, I’ve tried to think of other options. No other candidates and I must keep this secret from Mycroft. - SH”

“I can come over after my shift and help you.”

“If you’re not going to do the drugs then you’re useless to me. - SH”

You locked your phone and threw it in your purse not replying. Walking to your table you couldnt help but agree with Sherlock. You meant nothing to him until you did something he needed.

Arriving at your flat later on you felt like absolute shit. You let Sherlock’s few words bend you out of shape. Before Mary died you had been a newly recruited friend. Mostly seeing the boys out the door safely and assisting with babysitting Rosie. You’d even been watching her the night Mary took the shot for Sherlock in the aquarium. You’d only heard about it when John came home alone early in the morning completely destroyed. You were sleeping on the couch in the living room, Rosie’s baby monitor next to your ear. As the early morning sun snaked in through the curtains you saw John open the door with heavy arms. They fell to his side as more sunlight escaped into the room. His eyes were red and he has blood on the front of his clothes.

You rushed to him in panic putting your hands on his shoulders. “John what happened to you?” He looked at you with glossy eyes. A torn expression was haunting his face. “Mary is gone. If you would, I need some time alone.” He pushed your hands away and walked past you without another word. You stayed in the house like a ghost until Molly came to watch after Rosie. You went home later that afternoon and broke down in the shower. Laying on the floor of the tub you came to the realization that the only person who ever listened to you was gone.

You were never really able to mourn Mary. You went from chasing the boys out the door to chasing their demons away when they broke down. You knew that you weren’t really helping either of them to get closure. But John always assured you that he needed you there to support him. Although Sherlock never said a word of gratitude or protest you knew he needed someone too. The times you held him in your arms while he cried was enough proof of that to keep you returning, even as things got worse with him.

You sat at your dining room table with a bottle of vodka overthinking. You still were completely dressed from work and it was nearing 11:30. You didnt have to work the next day so you took your time getting up and running yourself a bath. You walked with the bottle firmly in your hands taking long drinks from it and undressing in your room. You wrapped yourself in a robe and sat on the closed toilet seat as the tub filled. Putting music on you threw your phone on the counter and shut the door. You lowered yourself in the water letting your hair down.

As the alcohol started taking its toll on you your emotions attacked you in waves. You cried in between your fury at Sherlock and your apparent helplessness. Your phone vibrated a few times. You took another sip from the bottle. You sat up pulling your hair out of your face and over your shoulders. Pulling your knees up to your chest you rested your arms around them. You closed your eyes taking in the warmth of the room. A few minutes went by that you sat like that. You almost believed you could have fell asleep in that momentary peacefulness. Your phone went off again, much more urgently this time. A call was coming through but you had no will or desire to figure out who it was coming from. Instead you took the bottle your lips and finished off the drink.

The last half hour of your bath you stared off into the wall. Your sadness weighed so heavy in your chest, you could feel it in the very back of your throat. You ran out of the energy to cry, you couldn’t feel enough at one time to really let it all out. So you sat there as the water began to drain and you basked in the pain, finally being able to stop ignoring how you felt. You couldnt decide if you’d like more how you felt when you cast your feelings away or when you let them over take you. You sat in the bath until all the water dried off your body and only stayed dripping at the end of your hair. Your music had turned off long ago, but you only realized as you listened to the drain drinking up the water that fell from the leaky faucet.

Somehow you got up and made your way to the liquor cabinet. Taking out another bottle you roamed your house in your robe. Your hair dripping on your back trailing your aimless steps for no one in particular to follow. You ended up perched on the windowsill in your bedroom. You had one leg dangling off the side and the other bent in front of you. You looked out to the city drinking once more and you felt you were too small in the scheme of life to have such an overpowering sadness.

Your alarm clock told you it was after three but you still went to your closet to throw on a jumper and some leggings. The one you picked was over sized and faded, it slipped from your shoulder. You tied your hair up in a lazy ponytail and grabbed your bag. You walked out of your flat holding your keys and the new bottle. You knew you were going to regret going out, but you decided that even for a little while you wanted to stop feeling.

Sherlock was shocked to hear you stomping up the stairs a little while later. While your movements were loud and uncoordinated you said nothing. He studied you, seeing how your hair was still damp and your bag hung loosely on your shoulder. While your hands were both empty he could smell the alcohol on you. You seemingly had been drinking quite a lot upon your arrival. It was now after four and neither of you had slept.

“You’re drunk.” Sherlock stated as he watched you from his spot lounging on the couch. You smiled taking a deep breath. “I dunno why everyone thinks you’re a genius, I believe that’s quite obvious.” You said crudely. While you knew to be wary because he was mad at you, you couldn’t help but let a little of your own anger saunter through. “I’d figure the walk would’ve sobered you up a bit. You must have been drinking a lot to still be so affected.” Sherlock rewet his lips with his tongue quickly, almost sticking it out at you. “Well maybe I was drinking the whole way here to make sure I didn’t sober up.” You responded throwing your bag onto the floor.

You turned around and looked him straight in the eyes. “I’ll do it Sherlock.” He raised an eyebrow at you turning what you said over in his mind. “You’re only agreeing because you’re drunk.”

“This is the only way you’re going to get me to do it. We both need this for very different reasons.” You argued balling your hands into fists. “I’m giving you what you want.”

Sherlock stood from the couch walking into the kitchen. You noticed he hadn’t changed since the last time you saw him. He came back with a little box motioning you to come over to the table in the middle of the room. You knelt down besides it and rolled your sleeves up, letting him dose you with whatever drug he needed you to be on. “I adjusted the amount to account for your previous intoxication. It will only take a few minutes for you to feel this. If anything feels wrong let me know.” He packed up everything and disappeared into the kitchen.

You got up and sunk into his spot on the couch. Part of you felt disgusted at yourself. You split into the traitor and the victim inside. You crossed your legs, looking down at your lap. You picked at the loose skin on your fingers with your nails. Sherlock watched from his spot in the kitchen. He was pretending not to look at you, but he couldn’t take his eyes away. He was watching you as the test subject and as his best friend. When he looked at you in the perspective of the experiment you were internalizing all of the effects, obviously causing you to be drowsy and slow with your movements. You bit your lip roughly and stayed adamant about twiddling your fingers. It was becoming increasingly hard for you to focus on what you were doing. Seeing you as his best friend, he watched as you fought a war inside your head silently. You only came here to try to sign the treaty of peace with yourself.

You woke up to your limbs feeling heavy and your thoughts swimming in your brain. John stood across the room from you watching you as you pushed yourself up on your elbows. It was cloudy outside, giving the room an eerie coldness. “Seems like you found out huh?” You asked weakly moving your legs off the couch so you could sit up. Your stomach lurched sending you standing upright much too fast and rushing to the bathroom. John came along helping you on your way. He held your hair as you threw up in the toilet, shaking and coughing. Tears ran down your face as you kneeled over the bowl. Your throat was sore and your stomach pumped itself repeatedly until you were only spitting the taste out of your mouth.

You pulled yourself back as John flushed everything away. You rested your back on the wall besides you. You were shaking and your breathing was erratic. “I can’t believe he made you fucking do this.” John said harshly. “I asked him to.” You said lowly looking at the floor besides you. “You were pissed drunk and didn’t even know what you were doing. He took advantage of that just to get what he wanted.” John was flushed with anger. You shook your head at him reaching out with your hand. “I wanted this, I didn’t want to feel anymore.” You had only started to defend Sherlock when you felt the bile rush up your throat once more. John stayed with you a while, rubbing your back and comforting you. He stayed beside you when you pressed your hot face to the bathroom floor and cried for mercy to your body. “There’s nothing left in me. Please stop.”

You continued to cry even when your stomach settled, repeating the same lines over and over again. Wishing to have mercy from your mind that wouldn’t let you live down the fact that even as John sat inches away you had no one that really cared about you. John’s heart broke as he watched you fall apart on the floor, not knowing how much you were unraveling beneath him. And as Sherlock was heard coming back into the apartment John rose to meet him and blame him for all of your distress. Sherlock was too happy about his results to mind John’s harsh words. However he did come to see you in the bathroom and sat a few feet away.

John slammed the door on the way out, signaling that you were alone. Sherlock watched you crying, face pressed into the floor wondering what was going through your mind. “Are you okay?” He asked swallowing a lump in his throat. You didn’t answer at first knowing your voice would betray you. In a shaky breath you whispered out a simple, “No.” You met eyes with him, feeling hollow inside. “I’m not alright at all.”

—

You had pulled Sherlock out of drug houses many times over the last few years, never did you imagine you’d be in one without him.

It didnt take much for you to find his contacts in his apartment. You also knew he’d never expect you to look for them, never mind seek a particular one out. However you should have expected his contact to call him after you met but for some reason you didnt. You had been running back and forth from your flat to the dealers for a week. You took a leave off of work originally, but quit a few days following. The drugs had made it easier to let go and stop caring about things you knew that mattered. You let your phone die a couple of days ago, and when John appeared at your door you pretended that you weren’t home.

It was two weeks since you’ve been to Sherlock’s apartment and three since the night you first started the drugs. John came by twice once on his own and once with Lestrade. You heard him outside the door insisting something was wrong, but Lestrade couldn’t force his way in if there was seemingly nothing going on.

You had shot up about an hour ago and you were still riding out your high. You sat on the floor in your living room pushing your dinner around the plate. You heard people walking past your door occasionally and when two voices stopped in front of it you wrote it off as being the neighbors. Your TV was much too loud for you to notice the voices were John and Sherlock. You were also much to high to realize that the clicking you were hearing was the lock of your front door being picked.

It was only when the door burst open with a loud bang that you realized you weren’t getting out of this. Sherlock and John stood outside the door, one shocked to see you standing there and the other unimpressed. You stood quickly, accidentally sending your dinner onto the rug. Your breathing became quick and heavy as you back away from them. “What are you doing here?” You panicked looking around the room frantically. You moved to the couch, picking a pillow up and throwing it at them. “Get out! Get out! Get the fuck out!” You screamed launching more at them. John stepped back horrified as angry tears streamed down your face. You marched to the door. “I dont want you here. Either of you! Did you not get the hint when I shut myself in here?” You yelled straight in Sherlock’s face trying hard to control your breathing. He stood still, not flinching at your words or your volume. “You get the fuck out of here!” You screamed again pushing him backwards with all of your strength. “I just want to be alone and-” “Get high.” Sherlock interrupted. “Ignore everything.” You finished. From over his shoulder you could see John looking at you in disbelief. “You’re fucking high? That’s what you’ve been doing holed up in here?” The mix of anger and annoyance in his tone hit you hard.

“No.” You said, the same time as Sherlock said “Yes.”

“I am not getting high.” You defended. Sherlock grabbed your arm and pulled you further into the apartment. John following behind and shutting the door. When he turned around Sherlock grabbed your arm and showed it to him. Multiple puffy needle marks riddled the inside of your arm. You stayed quiet but roughly pulled your arm from his fingers. “Where is all of it?” Sherlock snapped. “Find it yourself.” You spit back crossing your arms over your chest. With that the two men disappeared into your flat until they returned with all the drugs you had.

John tried his best to remain calm but ended up yelling a long lecture in your face until he realized it was no good and saw himself out. Sherlock said nothing. He simply stood across the room from you and retrieved the pillows from the floor. He grabbed a waste basket and threw the bags of drugs in there along with the few needles you had. He fetched a lighter from your kitchen and you watched the only thing that ever made the pain stop burn into nothing.

You didn’t have any tears to cry and you searched for the words to say. You sunk to the floor in your place and stared at the trash defeated. Sherlock broke the silence. “Why did you do this?” You didn’t answer him instead you asked, “Why did you do that?” Your voice cracked at the end.

Sherlock cleared his throat looking around the room. “This is very selfish of you.” You looked at him in disbelief. “Says you! I was the one who sat around and took care of your pathetic ass while you were higher than Mount Everest.”

He bit his lip sighing frustratedly. “Everyone thought you were okay.” You started to stand, “Oh so just because it’s what everyone thinks then it’s right yeah?” You threw you hands up mockingly. “So tell me Sherlock, when do I get to not be okay? When are people going to start being there for me?” You yelled feeling your eyes start to get glassy and you were tripping on the words as to they came out of your mouth. Sherlock hesitated looking around the room in guilt. While he thought of what to say you continued. “I’m always there for everyone else, always putting people before me.” Your voice stayed strong but tears spilled over onto your cheeks. You made your way closer to him wiping your cheek with the heel of your palm. “I’m always taking care of people and no one ever takes care of me.”

Sherlock felt his heart grow heavier as he watched you stand before him broken and vulnerable. He wanted to cheer you up and bring you back to your normal self. However a part of him felt like you’d turn to the drugs to hide these feelings because he never paid attention to them before. “I never knew that you needed someone like this (y/n).” Sherlock rested his hand on your shoulder. “I tried to make it obvious, I tried to let it show hoping somebody would notice. But no body did, not one of you. Not even when I said it straight to your face.” You spit back looking away from him.

Sherlock started to feel desperate to convince you this wasnt the way to handle your feelings. Although before he made you feel like you had no other option and he didn’t try to find other ways to help. “This isnt what you should do (y/n).” Sherlock said, his voice cracked on your name. “You do the same thing. I was just trying to forget how useless I am.” You spoke slowly looking down at your fingers pulling at the hem of your t-shirt. “You’re not useless to me, you’re my best friend.” He pleaded putting his hand on your cheek to try to get you to look at him. “That’s where you’re wrong. I am useless, you’re just one of the few who’s ever admitted it.” As you finished Sherlock felt himself shatter into a million pieces as he recalled what he said to you those few weeks ago.

“I lost the only person who ever listened to me. I never got to say goodbye and now I never get to let things out. I keep trying to open up and you shut me down.” You were becoming hysterical furiously wiping the tears from your face. “I will listen (y/n) I promise. I care about you. I lost Mary too, I don’t want to be the reason I lose another friend.” Sherlock insisted.

“Then start treating me like one.”

TAGS : @oneshotsdeanshort

[aqualianbird]

SAINT FFIC FEST - MUSIC

*Version Française ici*

  Well, this is so late it’s not even embarrassing anymore but here I am with my entry for the last Saint Ffic Fest. As a sort of excuse, part of why it took my so long to finish this out is that this time I decided to write it in French as well (click here to read in French).

Now to introduce the ffic, let’s start with the prompt I received :

Characters : Mime and Fenrir Scenery : The forest Instrument : Singing Music : Either Wardruna or Apocalyptica

Quick summary : I did write this text meaning for each elements to be discovered in the narrative, also I will stick to enumerating some of the topics of the fic in this section : Friendship, Music, What brings humans closer or further apart, Social pressures.

Word Count : 5 873

   I was really excited to write about Mime. He is my favourite Asgardian character, and in general one of the few characters I “faved” immediately while watching Saint Seiya the first time (and who remained a fave), even the first one I made hc for. It was an absolute pleasure to develop the first ideas newbie me had six years later with some experience and fics on the record, and I must say I am really proud of how it came out in general (not saying it’s perfect, but if I listened to perfectionism I’d never finish anything)

   I borrowed some hcs for Fenrir from Xocowilde, mostly those involving Thor, but pretty soon he felt as natural for me to write as Mime. Similarly, I had started writing this having only a couple of details clear and an initial setting, but pretty soon the entire fic almost wrote itself. 

Too bad it was not the case for the title as well.

   The theme of this Fest was “Music”, also I tried to include the musical elements to its maximum, meaning for some passages to be read while listening to the music you will find in the links. When two parts are separated by ***, it means I recommend to stop the reading until the end of the piece, and just listen to the music imagining Mime is playing it, and when a sentence ends with --- I recommend to stop the music. I admit this as all quite experimental, and hopefully a successful one.

   Now we will skip the Terms and Conditions agreement part to go straight to the text itself.

TUNING FORK

  The fur felt soft and warm, contrasting with the cold air biting his hands whenever he cleared a strand of hair out of his face. Snow was quietly falling around them, scarce but constant; and yet not a single snowflake had reached the wolf's body. For some reason, the young man had this particular melody stuck in his head – maybe because he had been listening to Wardruna when his fellow God Warrior had knocked on his door; or maybe because the melancholic motif seemed to echo in the snowfall. Occasionally, the wind's blow would sneak in between the trees, rocking the lamp Fenrir was holding. More disturbing, however, were the numerous eyes glowing in the dark as a result of the light's oscillations – concentration was no easy task in the middle of so many judges.    Fortunately, Mime had a good grasp of the situation now; the wounded animal laying before his knees only needed some basic medical attention. The young man reached for his bag : he would need alcohol and a little something to strengthen the beast's immune system to help her fight off a minor infection. He petted her collar, mindful to keep the wolf relaxed enough in her trance, before he disinfected her wounds.                        ---    Begrudged to watch his comrade-in-arms silently apply ointments on a member of his pack, the young leader spoke up :    - So. You are going to make her better ... Right ?    - I am not a vet, Fenrir, declared Mime. If you wanted to be reassured, you should have called one.    - C'mon, dude ... You're good at this !    - I'm still not a vet. You are just lucky this seems to be benign.    - I told you already : there is no way I'd ask a human for help. Ever. It's not like they're reliable anyway ...   The young leader hardly waited any longer to share his full reasoning :   - A human vet could do experiments on her or something ! Humans have no respect for animals or nature in general.   - I am a human ...   - You - well, yes, you are. But you are an okay human. You treat animals well. And, the way you calmed her with music … I mean, nobody else can do that. I am sure she is as relaxed and pain-free as possible right now.   Mime weighted his comrade's words for a moment; just like the wolves lurking at the fringes of the illuminated circle, Fenrir was utterly protective of his pack - and it seemed like desperation had not been the only reason behind his coming at the musician's door ...   - Still, he replied. This is not in my job description; you can't randomly call me out of my house like that.   - But ... I knocked before entering, and I said please ? That's how Thor tells me to do it.The young man had almost let surprise rise his eyebrows.   - Thor ?   The majority of the God Warriors had only barely met before their battle against the Knights of Athena. Additionally, Mime had not tried to keep in touch with his comrades-in-arms in their gifted second life - at all; also, it took him a while to remember about the giant warrior of Phecda, inconveniently named after their God of Thunder.   - Well, yeah, him. He knows the ways of humans, right ?   The young man wondered if Fenrir knew about his own land's mythology.   - You mean you have been listening to what a brutal, unreliable and tyrannical human has said ?   His comrade blushed.   - I never said that ! Besides, he is half giant, so not very human either ... I mean, he is half trustworthy, he concluded raising his chin.   - Unlike me, who is zero percent trustworthy, and yet still gets called to take care of your family. I really wonder what half trustworthy means … Fenrir showered the redhead with snow :   - Shut up, stupid-ass !   Of course, one needed much more to shake the musician's composure off, not to mention his current investment in a very important task :   - Easy there, he replied. You could scare her out of her trance; it's not good to be brutally waken up like that.   The young leader immediately stopped while Mime reached for a small percussion on which he soon began to play a gentle beat.   To ensure the wolf's peaceful awakening, the young man decided to play again the song he had used to induce the trance in the first place – another Wardruna piece, faithfully to his current musical crush.   As a general rule, one should usually refrain from performing such instrumentally rich songs on their own. But the Benetnach warrior had a couple of aces up sleeves most humans weren't even aware of; also, he confidently kept the beat, enriching it with an equally soft rhythm played on the percussion's wooden sides which somewhat followed the original piece's introduction. The musician paid special attention to the wolf laying besides his knees, for the meantime still plunged in her deep sleep. Snow kept serenely falling around them while Fenrir took a seat nearby, scrutinising his comrade's every move just like the first time Mime had played that evening. However, little by little, as he dived into his rendition, the redhead lost track of anything happening beyond his and the canid's personal space, from the wind smoothly teasing some frozen twigs to the wolves surrounding the small circle formed by the light.   Once he felt connected to his “patient”, the young man wielded years of arduous practice in a way his father and training comrades would have most certainly condemned : he maintained the percussion's beat via pulsations he regularly initiated with his cosmos. And because he was using the air as tool to interact with the drum's membrane instead of his limbs, the musician's hands remained free to play the violin's melody. It was a trick Mime frequently used to accompany himself on the harp, lyre and other instruments.   He concentrated on the wolf again. If the first time he had accentuated the rhythmic and repetitive aspects of the song, the redhead now planed to play on its texture and dynamism to gradually connect her to her surroundings. With great pleasure, Mime noticed she had already displayed positive signs to the sound of his lyre.

  Nevertheless, the hardest part was yet to come; the lyre and the beat, he could play in his sleep. But he would soon need to sing. Not that Solringen's lyrics were particularly challenging; for the better part of the song, the same two verses were echoed over by the soloist and the chorus. Though neither did it mean the song should be deemed trivial to perform, as splitting one's attention into three different tasks – one of them involving cosmos nonetheless – could be seen as utterly bold. No, the source of the musician's concern dwelt elsewhere : even if he knew the lyrics by heart, even when he sang in his native language and nailed every single key, even if he had years of creative experience to use, he still lacked that one crucial element that made vocalists great; according to himself, Mime had the most dull, monotonous, and tiresome singing voice ever heard on earth.   The young man shook his head. As any good musician, the redhead persisted despite his doubts. He focused on tastefully accentuating his beat to compensate for his mediocre voice, all this without neglecting to execute the smoothest crescendo he was capable of; he wanted everything to be perfectly lead to a climax.   When he felt the wolf's attention had been fully awakened, Mime stopped everything. Complete silence fell on the glade. Not even the wind could be heard, and it seemed snow had ceased to fall for a moment. It was as though even the trees had been listening to the musician this entire time ...   A heartbeat later, Mime intoned the glorious conclusion of the piece. Definitively the hardest part of the song to play, especially considering the fact he was performing alone. With the lyre, he tried to simultaneously render the violin's melody and the sopranos' part while reciting as loudly as he tastefully could the men's lines, all this without neglecting the percussion's cadence. The amount of concentration required was tremendous; the young man remained barely aware of the existence of anything other than his instruments. He could not miss a single beat.   Fortunately, that part was intense but short; he soon returned to the song's previous construction. While he could not catch his breath quite literally yet, it did feel relaxing to render a known part where the lead singer and soprano chorus dialogued, answering to each other the same two verses about the summer, the sun's ring and the rooster's song.   With his rendition requiring less concentration, the young man remembered to check on his patient, now fully awakened. But despite her regained autonomy he found the wolf still laying by his knees; she had moved only enough to be able to watch the musician play. Mime smiled. The redhead then prepared himself for the piece's last measures, which he planned to perform just like on the original record : first, he stopped the lyre and the beat, following then with a decrescendo diffusing the last two verses of the song.

                                                            ***   Silence gradually grew on the glade. Little by little, Mime regained full awareness of his surroundings : the snow serenely falling, his comrade sitting by his right side, the other wolves who had come closer during his performance, the trees smoothly rocked by the wind, the distant hooting of an owl somewhere in the night ...   Until a quiet voice called his attention back to the clearing :   - Could you play this again ? Please ?   Fenrir's cheeks regained their brighter colours.   - The rest of the pack seems to love it, but I'm the only one who can ask.   He scratched the back of his head and changed his sitting position. Mime had a hard time deciding whether he was surprised by this sudden request or not. Ultimately, though, only one emotion prevailed : curiosity. After all, the young man had always craved to understand the psychology of all living beings.   - Only if you tell me why you like Thor. For real.   His comrade pouted. Mime locked his gaze on the strand of hair covering the warrior's nose-bridge while the latter stayed still, his arms and legs crossed. For a long time, the redhead thought Fenrir would not give in and he'd be on his way back home soon – something he would not deplore either.   - He is a good human, okay ? It looks like those are rare, but exist after all. Or maybe it's because he is half Giant ? But so he is loyal and also he is a very good hunter. So sometimes, when I really really need it, I ask him for a bit of help. It's for the pack. Not good hunting seasons happen sometimes, but when too much food is missing ... Anyways so he always gives what he can and never even asks for anything in return. Which makes him a very good human. Not selfish or greedy. So, will you play now ?   The young man hid his amusement adjusting the position of the small percussion by his side.   - How about I play something else ? Maybe you will like this song as well; it's from the same band. It's called Pertho, and it's about dwarves feasting.  

Once again, Mime chased his everlasting dissatisfaction with his singing voice and tried his best at replicating the particular timber he loved so much in his idol's voice. The small glade they were in helped the musician in keeping his rendition quite faithful to the atmosphere of the original piece for it echoed to some extent his voice and the drum's beat. Of course, despite his skills he could not fill in for the choir parts all by himself; also, the young man tried to compensate by performing the chorus one octave lower than the rest of the song.

  During the second verse, Mime moved his left hand from the percussion to the lyre, making use of his special trick to keep up the beat. Said verse being relatively short he soon enough sang the chorus again, this time accompanying himself on the lyre. The motif was quite simple, but once again the challenge dwelt in the concentration required to harmoniously render three different parts at once.   The reason Mime had decided to play this particular song was because, unlike the requested one, it featured a lyre solo – the occasion for him to shine. Being in his comfort zone the young man could make use of all the nuance and subtlety his skill was capable of.

  The rest of the pack came to form a closer circle around them. Some wolves even laid down in the snow nearby. What Mime loved most was when they would tilt their heads or move ears in reaction to his music; the young man liked to believe he had spent enough time playing among animals to know these wolves appreciated his rendition. Fenrir, on the other hand, was observing him with such an intense and genuine fascination the musician could only draw comparisons with a behaviour he had only witnessed in children so far …

                                                                ***   The song was fairly short. Also, as soon as the last chord had stopped resonating, Fenrir claimed :   - Again !   - Heey, not so fast : this is not a concert either.   - But … Please ?   With his head tilted, his arms wrapped around his knees and his clear-eyed gaze locked straight into his interlocutor's eyes, the young leader could honestly pretend to have mastered the puppy look.   - Oh wait ! -He abruptly straightened his back.- I am indeed the one in debt to you. But so maybe this would help.   - What would help ? Asked Mime, confused.   The Aliot warrior disappeared in between the trees, only to come back a few minutes later with some sort of plastic box.   - So, you can of course call me on any favour, he explained after having negotiated a rough landing in the snow. But in the meantime, let me show you some hospitality ! Here, this is a royal snack.   Fenrir proudly held out a raw piece of meat. Slightly larger than the size of a hand, of dark, wine-ish shade and what the musician would qualify as “unspeakable” shape, it seemed to have caught the interest of the rest of the pack while putting Mime's composure skills through the mill. The redhead did not want to know what was supposed to be “royal” about this; he imagined the sole reason it did not spill any blood was because the fluid had frozen.   - Thanks, but I'm not hungry, he finally anszered trying to contain his disgust.   - Oh ! Yes, that's alright … ammm, I must have something for hospitality other than eating … Ah, here ! Thor gave me this last time.   The young leader was now holding two bottles of beer.   - This is okay for human hospitality, right ?   Mime gazed down at the bottles : their labels betrayed the outstanding origin of those products. After the first incident, goods purchased at one of Asgard's finest brewery were the last thing he had expected to see coming out of that box ...   - Indeed, it is.   The young man opened both bottles to reduce his risks of returning home with clothes soaked in beer.   - You really must be spending a lot of time with Thor, he commented.   - I did not say that ! Stop doing it !   - Well, you keep talking about him. Additionally, this is high-quality beer : you two either spend a lot of time together, or Thor is incredibly generous … Or just really naïve.   - But. Like I told you. He is a good human. Unlike you apparently, Fenrir pouted.   The redhead tried to contain a smirk.   - I'm not an okay human any more ?   - I thought so. But you keep being mean.   - How so ?   - You keep …Fenrir stopped abruptly.   - When you do ... You did …   As his frustration increased a curious grimace grew on his face, becoming somewhat reminiscent of a dog's snarl.   - You haaaaave ...   It was clear he had troubles translating his thoughts into words.   - Hurt one of your pack ?   - What ? No ! -He quickly checked- No, it's something else ...   - Insulted you ?   - No … Not really.   - Hmm … What could it be ? Said the young man faking concentration.   - It's not something as awful as the examples you gave. But you have been annoying ! You keep saying things I did not say like it was the truth !   - Did I get anything wrong ?   The young leader pouted again.   - Well, no. But … Oh, see ? You do it again ! Stop being annoying !   Mime chuckled.   - It's called teasing. That's what I was doing : teasing you. By exposing truths you want to hide.   Fenrir weighed those words.   - Yeah … Why do you do that ? Will you stop ?   - Why don't you want to tell those things ?   This time, instead of displaying his usual signs of agitation, the Aliot warrior just glared at his guest.   - I think I understand … You know the answers, but you take amusement in watching others getting embarrassed … That's very human of you, he concluded narrowing his eyes. The harpist, on the other hand, smirked; he was indeed enjoying himself a lot. - Well, sort of … But there is a legitimate question behind all this : why do people lie so much ?   Mime started petting the wolf still laying at his feet.   - Human relationships, connexions, do come in many “shapes and colours”, and every single individual should have the right to privacy as well as absolute control over where they set their own boundaries, which makes a thorough answer to this question utterly complex. But I sincerely believe we would all gain a lot by being much more honest with each other in general. And with ourselves.   The young man had years worth of contemplations ready to share on the matter. But in between the overflow of words trying to overcome the barrier of his mouth all at once and the memories still fresh of his battle against the Phoenix Saint, Mime remained silent. The subject had taken a new dimension since, painfully carving itself some extra room in the musician's mind. Fenrir's mind, on the other hand, was not troubled by the reflections haunting his comrade :   - Yeah, humans are such hypocrites. I didn't understand everything you said, but yes. I knew this since I was seven. You should not bother others because you are slow to understand something.   The redhead immediately recovered his smirk.   - Even if I'm bothering bad humans ?   The question resulted in another curious snarl on Fenrir's face.   - Yes, even. And you are smart, you already know those answers I'm sure. So you should stop. Better play music instead !   The young leader displayed some of his earlier enthusiasm, obviously hoping to hear another song.   - You still want to hear music performed by a bad human like me ?   He took a moment to think about it.   - Well … Unless you keep being mean … Please ? His comrade asked with a smile.Mime raised his eyebrows.Here is someone not indulging himself in the practice of ass-kissing …- I'll stop teasing you yes … for now. But just to be clear : I am not a member of your pack either. I am not going to follow your directives simply because you said so. Understood ? Fenrir took his most serious expression and nodded.   - We- yes, you are a visitor ! That's it.   - Good.      The young man pulled the percussion closer and stroked it with the tip of his fingers, trying to choose his next song. Right away, the melody haunting the musician's mind imposed itself as obvious choice; however, despite his strong desire to hear the song Mime decided against performing it : if he could use his cosmos to play the drums without hands, the list of instruments on which this trick worked was short. Furthermore, unlike the songs previously performed, Mannar-Liv featured a complex harmony rich in texture, obtained through the use of many instruments and the polyphony of each partition. Also, even if the musician had known how to play on every instruments with his cosmos, any combination with the lyre would amount to trying to write with both hands at the same time. And if by some sort of miracle he would have managed to master this hurdle, the musician felt it impossible for him to faithfully render the piece with only two or three instruments at hand, and especially without the violin's characteristic timber. No matter how strong it was, a cosmos would never change the sound of an instrument into another.   His favourite piece disregarded, the choice of the song became only more difficult; what would he play next ? The young man was fond of all of Wardruna's songs, but only a handful of those were accessible to his skills-set – or more accurately, none of these songs were meant to be played alone.   Mime glanced at his comrade; Fenrir was not displaying any signs of impatience, but the eyes of the Aliot warrior betrayed his expectations. The intensity of the young leader's enthusiasm astonished the musician once more; it reminded him of the time he and his classmates from the conservatory had dressed as elves to support Santa Claus' actor evolution around the town-square in music.   The presence of this innocent gaze in the look of a warrior in his twenties seemed to be a natural consequence of Fenrir's early isolation from human society; he had not lived the experiences most had endured at this age. In Mime's opinion, the young leader was the living proof of the level of corruption in human societies with its ever-increasing number of selfish, greedy and power-thirsty individuals, turning every child into leery, closed-minded, dishonest and equally power-thirsty individuals; a vicious circle breaking down every single spirit to the shape and docility of the cast. Furthermore, the majority of the animals living with humans -most notably dogs- never displayed any signs of the moral corruption observed in their "masters". The latters could argue as much as they wanted this was due to the animals' "inferior intelligence", Mime would remain convinced until the end this fact reflected the vile nature of humans more than anything else; after all, the only difference between an animal learning to live in this society and a child was the height of the language barrier. Because of their limited understanding of the human languages, animals did not perceive the full depth of the humans' scurvy schemes. Fenrir, having been cut from that world since the age of seven, proved the inverse to be true as well; he had conserved the honest and straight-forward nature every child seemed to be born with. Mime found himself envying the young leader's position for a moment; Fenrir had had the space to grow up to become a truly free spirit, untouched by the influence his potential classmates, teachers, neighbours and other close relatives could have had on him, but first and foremost free of the pressures and parental expectations.   The musician put an end to his internal monologue and chose his next piece; he would play a song entitled NaudiR. Of course, following the same logic that lead him to discard Mannar-Liv, it was impossible for him to accurately render the introduction of the song; however, in this case, the young man felt he could remain faithful to its general structure by creating his own dramatic ouverture using solely his lyre, his voice and percussion. The rest of the song was centered around the lyre.    Decided, the redhead turned the absent-minded strokes into a confident rhythm. Soon, he broke out a beat and played accords on the lyre, completing the melody with humming. He immediately caught the assistance's attention.   When he interrupted the play after the introduction, the musician could feel all eyes hung on his moves, and especially Fenrir's who seemed about to open his presents on Christmas day. If Mime had to describe him at the moment, he would not use any other words than “an eight year old boy in the body of a twenty-something”. Mime switched instruments before he continued playing, feeling more at ease when in direct contact with the strings after all. While pulling the first chord, the young man made it a point to discretely observe his comrade throughout the performance - he wanted to understand and measure his fascination for music. Mime was especially curious considering how Fenrir had basically rejected his humanity and had lived isolated from their society for the better part of his life; he was “pure” of the usual preconception and prejudices, group effect or even generational influences those he had met – and even himself – had assimilated. How did it factor into his approach of music ? What would he qualify as “music” ? What did he consider being “normal” music ? Classical music ? Pop ? Or what would he qualify as odd in the musical world ? From experience, the musician knew some animals appreciated music while some others remained completely indifferent to it : would he be able to understand why thanks to Fenrir ? Could he create music that would allow him to better connect with one of his favourite audience on earth ? Could he discover some new elements to add to the timeless debate of what made art, art ?    For now, however, his only certainty was the young leader's constant and genuine enthusiasm as displayed throughout the successive performances of Wardruna's songs ...                                                                   ***   After silence had fell on the glade again, and the atmosphere of song had dissipated enough, Mime tried to ask :   - Tell me; how much do you know about music ?   - Not much, answered Fenrir. I remember my mother had a beautiful voice. She often sang to me before sleep. Sometimes during the day too, but so …   The young leader frowned.   - I think she knew how to play the … arf, what's the big black thing called ?   - The piano ?   - Yeah, something like that … But it was a long time ago.   They both stayed silent for a while; Mime didn't know whether Fenrir needed a moment to grieve or not. The latter, however, soon spoke out again :   - Oh ! Thor listens to music !   - Great ! What kind of music does he listen to ?   The Aliot warrior showed his best smile before answering :   - Thor says it's called “metal”.   - Nice … So you do know stuff !   The musician found himself lost in a conversation he had initiated; despite his thirst of knowledge, he had doubts regarding the results he expected out of this, and, as it turned out, they had ventured into a topic on which he had very limited knowledge.   Fenrir on the other hand seemed eager to share his musical experience.   - Last time we listened to a strange band … Ammm … Wait I'll remember ! Acopo … Apaco- no.   - Apocalyptica ?   - Yes ! Yes that ! You know them too ?   - Broadly. They are quite famous, and since they play on cellos it tickled my musical curiosity.   - Oh then maybe you can play a song from them ? I really liked some of their songs.   - Sorry, I'm not so familiar with their repertoire ...   His comrade looked confused.   - But, he protested after a while. Thor says they play very known songs, only on different instruments. You can't do that ?   - I can, but not like they do : metal music is not really my cup of tea, Mime declared.   - Ahhh … Okay, I guess I should have known.   After he finished speaking, the young leader tilted his head as his eyes drifted to the right.   - Known what ?   - That you would not like metal. It's music that fits like, Thor, more. It's fast and loud and rough ...   The young man stopped moving, his gaze locked on Fenrir.   - … when he shows pictures of the players they don't look like the humans I see at Hilda's place or you. They don't look like they spend much time at ... hairdressers ... or shops ... or I don't know what else. You, on the other hand, are a very -   - If you meant to say girly or gay, I will strangle you, Mime interrupted.   Fenrir froze mid sentence, possibly unaware of his gaping mouth.   - And for the record, I know plenty of girls who like this genre, some being very “girly” as well. This has nothing to do with taste.   Actually, Mime's only reference was a classmate from the days he frequented music academy, who aside from being their grade's top harpist had also formed a metal band of some sort. He lacked the solid statistics which would have ensued from a wider circle of friends, but for what it was worth he had attended said classmate's concert once and had seen girls with various styles there. At any rate, the Benetnach warrior had never opposed the use of some “fight fire with fire” policy. He did not doubt those people existed, even if he had never seen them; also, as long as he remained aware of the fact he was crossing the line between truth and lie, he could allow himself to breach the rule sometimes ... Smashing down people's stupid prejudices like that was just so worth it.   - I was going to say civilised, declared Fenrir. You are a very … err, city person. Appreciating delicate things. Which is why I thought it made sense you don't like metal.   Now the young man was the one standing agape – or at least he would have been had it not been for his poker-faced skills. He should have expected that someone isolated from society since childhood would display a different set of prejudices than those who had mocked him all his life for behaving “like a girl”.   - This still does not have much to do with the fact I don't like metal, he replied in a calmer tone. Some taste just have no particular reason attached to it, like why one likes red more and others orange more even though those colours are fairly close to each other on the spectrum. Sometimes the answer is “just because”. And we should not ignore nor lie to ourselves about those tastes. We never need a deep reason to justify liking this or that : if it's not hurting anybody, then the mere fact we prefer spending time doing this or that over something else should be enough.   Mime sighed.   - I don't understand why people try so hard to meddle in other's interests or police their pass-times. I am a man and I can act however the hell I want to. And the heartbreaking truth is, too many people find themselves doing stuff they hate or saying stuff they do not think or even condone. Because some foolish humans have decided they know better, or that random sets of physical traits you were born with should dictate your personality or future.   Silence fell on the glade. It seemed like the young man had lost some of his usually excellent control over himself. One could also assume the wolves had sensed the redhead's perturbation : the one he had healed stood up and tried to lick his face. Mime recovered his smile- It's important to be strong and stubborn in this context. To stay true to ourselves. For our own happiness and the sake of others, he concluded while petting the wolf.Fenrir pondered over his comrade's words for a very long time. Maybe the subject of his rant had become too abstract for the wild-bred warrior ...- Suuuuuuuuuure, he finally uttered, still confused. Do you mean … Like, I should not go live with other humans if I don't want to … ?   The young man did not expect this particular interpretation of his little speech; nevertheless, it did stay faithful to his original message.   - Indeed. If it makes you happier to stay near the pack, do so. And I am not going to call you “domesticated” or anything just because you also enjoy spending time with Thor.   - Really ? The young leader beamed. It does not show my destiny should be in a city ? Or that I can't escape my true nature or something ?   - No, it does not … Don't wolves sometimes leave a pack to visit friends in other packs ?   Fenrir took that comment at heart.   - So, I can visit Thor and still not be part of human society ?   - Absolutely, Mime smiled.   - Awesome ! I like visiting Thor … And some other things humans do ... Like music.   The shade of pink tinting his cheeks grew in intensity, but it was with a renewed confidence that the young leader added :   - You too … I would like to visit you sometimes ...   After the numerous occasions in which he had been surprised by his comrade that night, it greatly pleased the musician to know he had guessed at least one fact right.   - Just don't bring me any dead animals, please. I like my food processed and cooked like the delicate and civilised human I am, he joked.   When the Aliot warrior's laughter had stopped resonating and his “patient” stood up to incite her friends to play, Mime finally asked :   - Would you like me to show you how to play music ?   Fenrir frenetically nodded. The young man proceeded to teach him the name of every chord of his lyre and the different ways of pulling the strings. The young leader turned out to be a surprisingly patient student who did his best to follow the harpist's instructions despite a complete lack of musical background. However, careful not to let his comrade grow frustrated -or worse, bored- by his beginner's skills, after Fenrir successfully played “happy birthday” twice in a row, Mime handed him the small percussion he had brought and said :   - Let's try to play a song together !   Later that night, in the same little glade surrounded by frozen trees and covered in snow, and despite the temperatures having considerably fallen, the voices of two young man filled the air once again, followed by the sound of percussions and lyre, rendering the themes of yet another Wardruna song, carried away by the wind in the Asgardian night.