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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years ago

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Limp Noodle ~ S.H.

A/n: I have never once been good at making choices so I’ll be doing both OOF! This request is dirt old but whatever. I’m actually writing requests now look at me go!

Request: “...prompt 20 or 21 Steve Harrington x clumsy male reader” by anon

#20 (here): “I can’t do this without you”

#21: “Guess who broke their nose! Me. It’s me. I broke my nose.”

Word Count: 2000+

MASTERLIST

“Are you SURE that this is a good idea?” The words came from Y/n as Steve parked the car, waving through the windshield window at Jonatan, Nancy, Robin and a new friend, Bianca. They’d all decided on a triple date and like idiots they’d let Steve, Bianca, and Nancy decide so they were now all headed on a hike. Robin was the least athletic of all of them and hated exercise of any kind. Jonathan was the one in the group who hated being outside in the sun and much preferred being inside cuddled on the could other swaddled in bed. Y/n... well Y/n was the single most clumsy person you’ve ever met.

Now, take whatever image that popped in your head when I said that and then make it ten times worse. Then take THAT mental image and multiply by it by ten AGAIN. Y/n was worse. He was absolutely sure he was going to thrip and fall over the side of some steep hill and fully die. He would be lucky to make it out of this trip without a stick going through his eye. Y/n and the outdoors didn’t mix. They never had. He could barely walk, let alone when it was uphill and outside and humid and hard to breathe and everyone was so beautiful and distracting.

Steve didn’t agree with that analysis.

“This is a great idea actually,” Steve decided with complete confidence. “Don’t worry about it okay? You’ll be fine.”

“Incorrect,” Y/n Aries immediately. “We started dating because I tripped seven times and you caught me every single one. I tripped seven times in three days Steve - and that was just the, what, one hour a day you’re with me? In THREE HOURS I TRIPPED SEVEN TIMES!” He was whisper yelling, getting rather heated. “I’m going to knock my head into a tree and bleed out.”

Steve laughed. He reached over, taking his boyfriend’s hands. “Do you trust me?”

Y/n’s shoulders sagged. “That is a cheap trick, Harrington.”

In response Steve only raised his eyebrows. When Y/n refused to answer, Steve sighed. “Y/n. Do you trust me?”

Closing his eyes a second, Y/n held in a sigh. When he opened them again, he managed a small smile. “Yeah. I trust you.” Steve went to get out of the car and Y/n caught his wrist. “Just promise you’re going to stay with me okay? I can’t do this without you. I’m serious.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Come on Drama King.” They both got out and made their way over to the other four.

“Hey guys!” Nancy greeted warmly. She had calmed a lot since Y/n had first met her. Darkened. But she was still pleasant enough, and Y/n tolerated her for Steve. He didn’t know why they were all friends after Nancy’s brutal ripping up Steve’s heart but... he expected it was that trauma bonding things that Steve and Robin refused to ever talk about with Y/n in the room.

“Hey bestie.” Robin winked at Y/n and he felt himself relax. Around her he always felt more comfortable. She got him on a much deeper level than Steve did. She had actually been the one to set them up after failure after failure of Steve’s attempts on girls who came to the ice cream shop they met at originally. It had gone up in flames recently, but they’d snagged a job at a movie store so they still worked together. Y/n was pretty sure neither of them would have it any other way, even if they sometimes pretended to hate each other.

“Hey loser,” Y/n joked back. Robin shoved him and he laughed, accidentally ramming into Jonathan as his feet almost came out underneath him. “Sorry,” Y/n mumbled.

Robin scoffed in amusement. “I always forget you have two backward feet.” This was something she said often, in reference to the popular statement of ‘two left feet’. One day Robin had proclaimed that Y/n was something worse than two left feet, and then being backward had kicked off as an inside joke.

“I’d you have that problem standing still, how do you think you’re going to do on a hike?” It seemed Bianca was trying to get in on the joking, but it hit a hard cord with Y/n.

He wasn’t in the mood to joke. “What can I say? Great day to die.” He put on the fakest smile ever. “Come on everyone!” Then he began to surge ahead, onto the trail, and the others scrambled to catch up.

It didn’t tale long for Nancy and Bianca to hit the head of the trail. Steve dutifully stayed by Y/n, but he watched the girls head with a sort of forlorness. Because Y/n was so slow and Jonathan and Robin lagged even behind him, the two girls in front were racing up and down the steep sides of the path they were on, jumping over logs and hopping up on stumps to make the path harder. They were laughing hard and having a great time. Y/n knew that Steve desperately wanted to join them.

What kind of a boyfriend would Y/n be to stop him? “Go on,” Y/n sighed, nudging Steve forward encouragingly.

Steve looked at Y/n with an expression that tried far too hard at innocence to succeed. It was so obvious he was full of crap that Y/n was rolling his eyes before the brunette even spoke. “What? What do you mean? I’m having a great time with my boyfriend which was the point of this whole thing. Have I bored you already?”

“No, but I’ve bored you. Go and do parkour with the bad ass chicks up there. Go on.” Steve hesitated, but when Y/n shot him a look, he finally did speed ahead to catch up and join in the unnecessary shenanigans that gave Y/n extreme anxiety just imagining himself doing. He sighed watching Nancy and Steve. He knew that things were WAY over between them, but Y/n found a little jealousy in the way they worked together so fluidly. They were perfect for each other - even as friends. She just kept up with him and challenged him in a way that Y/n never could, and Steve thrived.

Slowing down in his moment of annoyance, Robin and Jonathan caught up to him. “Welcome to the world of those who have to sit back and wonder why they’re not still dating,” Jonathan sighed. His voice was as laced with bitterness as Y/n’s thoughts were.

“They’re so complimentary,” Y/n complained.

“You could argue that you guys are the same,” Robin pointed out. “You both hate doing anything outside or away from home. You both love reading and photography. I mean Y/n’s incredible view of the world allows him to be a great writer, but it also connects you two. Writing and photography aren’t far from each other and you prod that every day. Nancy can’t slow down enough to appreciate things like Jonathan does, and we all know Steve is no reader.” She chuckled. “And we’ll never know how awkward and snappy got buff and pretty.”

Jonathan and Y/n smiled at that. “Imagine another world where Nancy and Steve stayed together. Then maybe you and me would have-“ suddenly he lost his words as he tripped, and Jonathan reached out to catch him. The two boys busted up laughing. “That’s the second I have to say both sorry and thank you for your reflexes Mr. Byers.”

“Ah anytime. That’s what friends do. Share interests and talk about alternative world where they’re dating and catch each other when they almost die.”

That made Y/n laugh harder.

Suddenly there was a very unpleasant thump and a scream. The three in the back snapped their attention to the three ahead and saw Nancy and Bianca freeze and look back at Steve, who had landed on the ground. His hands had risen to cover his face, and he slowly turned on his side, curling in on himself. It seemed like he’d misstepped at some point and tripped and fallen.

Perhaps Y/n shouldn’t have been the one they worried about on this trip...

When they finally got Steve to the hospital, it was a mess. There had been blood everywhere, and Y/n’s weirdly good driving had saved the day in a pinch once again. They’d gotten there quickly and in one piece without getting pulled over.

Only an hour later they were given news. Steve came out with the skin around his nose already bruised and puffy. “Guess Who broke their nose,” he mocked in a song songey voice.

“Me?” Y/n joked.

“Me!” Steve agreed, pointing at himself. “It’s me. I broke my nose.” He slung an arm over Y/n’s shoulders and the other four covered their mouths to hide laughs. People wouldn’t be forgiving in public if it got out that the two men were dating, so they were trying to be lowkey.

The Doctor came over behind Steve. “He’ll be fine. I’ve given him direction son how to ice it and even given him some pain killers to help with the next few hours. But it is just a broken nose, so nothing too severe.”

“Thanks,” Y/n told the Doctor. They left then, everyone heading home. Y/n designated himself in charge of caring for Steve, and called his parents to let them know that Steve ‘got tired’ after the hike and totally knocked out. They didn’t mind, liking that Steve was actually spending time with other kids again, so it went without too much problem.

As Y/n was tucking Steve into bed, Steve caught his hand to still him. “I love you.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. They hadn’t said that yet but... well, if hypotheticals with Jonathan had taught anything today, it was that Y/n was glad he was in this version of things, even if it was a little more complicated this way. So he meant it when he replied, “I love you too Stevie.”

Steve glared. “Not Jonathan?”

“Jon-“ Y/n’s deep confusion cleared as he realized what had been happening right when Steve had tripped. Jonathan and Y/n had been close. Laughing. Talking. Touching. “Oh my god Harrington did you break your nose because you were being a jealous idiot?”

“Maybe,” Steve grumbled, looking away.

Y/n laughed, gently tugging on his chin so their eyes met again. “Please sweetheart, you can’t get rid of me that easily. Me and my two backward feet are going to plague you for the rest of our lives.”

Steve’s eyes got very soft. “Do you really mean that?”

Getting sincere, Y/n leaned down and kissed Steve’s forehead. “Stephen Harrington, I’ve never meant anything more. I know we can’t get married or anything, or even date publicly, but... I don’t care. And maybe that’s some really forward thinking and we haven’t been dating that long, but I fell... a LOT of times in my life. It only made sense that the first time someone ever caught me, it was you. And it made me realize that I was gifted with my two backward feet so that one day I’d fall for you.”

Steve groaned. “That was painfully cheesy.”

“Okay, okay,” Y/n dismissed, rolling his eyes. The sweet moment was completely ruined.

“No seriously I would break my nose again before hearing that-“

Y/n reached over, turning the light off before climbing into bed with Steve. “Shut up Harrington, or I WILL break your nose again.”

Steve laughed before pulling Y/n close so they could fall asleep curled up with each other. “My cheesy, dumb, clumsy boy,” Steve mused quietly.

That made Y/n scoff. “If either of ya is the dumb in this relationship it’s YOU, Harrington.”

“Shut up,” Steve whispered. It was quiet a while before he finally followed up with, “I’d like that future with you too.”

To hide his smile, Y/n mumbled, “Good night Stevie.”

After a second, Steve replied, “Good night, Y/n.” And for now, that was the end of it.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x male reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things x male reader #joe keery #joe keery x reader #joe keery imagine #bisexual steve harrington #bi steve harrington

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blu-joons · 4 years ago

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He Teaches You God’s Menu ~ Bang Chan

Your head nodded as Chan showed you through the steps for the chorus of God’s Menu one last time. For the most part, you got it, but with a little bit of guidance from him, you were sure that you could pick it up.

Once he’d paused the speaker, he reached out for you to hold his hand. “Let’s give it a try, shall we?”

You smiled across at him, having suggested the idea to him, it was only right that you gave it a go. “Just take it slow, remember I’m not a dancer like you.”

Chan stood you in front of the mirrors, positioning you in the centre of the studio where you could see yourself, and him. He walked back over to restart the music at the chorus, editing the speed of the song so that he had enough time to show you through the steps.

“You know the main point steps, don’t you?” Chan called out to you, smiling softly when your head nodded back at him. “Let’s perfect those first.”

Your foot tapped along as the bridge into the chorus played, naturally humming along when you heard Chan’s vocal play out. His cheeks blushed as he glanced back to see you swaying along, counting you in as the chorus began.

You waited until the end of the first line to throw your arms up, listening to Chan’s lead on the three count, coming back down to recreate the chopping board you’d seen them rehearse several times before.

“Perfect!” He called out, clapping his hands together once the music was paused. “You’ve absolutely nailed that part.”

His hands pressed to your cheeks, pulling your head towards him to be able to press a kiss against your forehead. “I already knew that part though, I want to learn the rest of it, like all the jumps and intricate steps.”

You’d spent too many visits to the studio or a broadcasting station watching the boys dance, fed up with not being able to at least try and join in with them as they danced.

“Don’t worry, we’ll have you doing it in no time,” he assured you, “I’m a good teacher, what could possibly go wrong?” Your head nodded as Chan moved you back into position to start the beginning of the routine.

You watched on as he showed you the first couple of steps, with his hands to his head before moving back as if he were mixing a bowl of food.

“I’m sure you can nail this step,” he called out to you, “I’ve seen you bake enough cakes with Felix to know you can mix very well.”

You scoffed back at him, “it’s a bit different suddenly having to move your feet when you do it, I usually stand still and let Felix do the hard work.”

“Well, if you can get that part down, how about we move onto the next bit?” He suggested, moving across to show you the seasoning move, one that was a personal favourite of yours.

“I can do this one,” you yelled out having watched Chan show you once, “I always remember this bit because it’s the one where you yell out tang!”

Chan looked back at you, blinking rapidly with his hands resting on his hips. “Is that really how you remember our choreography, by the noises we make in the chorus?”

Sheepishly, your head nodded, taking a step away from him as he stepped towards you, “how else do you expect me to remember all of these intricate moves?”

They were intricate moves you spent the next hour learning from Chan, listening closely to every instruction that he had for you and every nugget of advice that he gave. It didn’t take long before you started to pick up on the steps, getting the hang of the main steps before finishing it off with the much smaller ones.

“Do you reckon you’re confident enough to run through it properly?” Chan challenged after showing you the closing steps of the chorus.

Your head nodded confidently back at him, even if you could tell that Chan wasn’t quite so sure. With him in your vision, you were convinced you could nail the routine in front of him.

“Alright, let me sort the music out and then we’ll give it a go,” he hummed, grabbing his water bottle, taking a sip as he made his way over to the speakers to sort it all out.

Whilst Chan put the track back to the beginning, you remained stood in the middle of the studio, going over the steps once more in your head. You were determined to prove to him that you’d learnt the routine, as if you could’ve been a member of Stray Kids.

“Just remember to follow me if you get stuck, it’s a difficult routine to perfect first time around,” Chan called out as he counted you in to the chorus.

You smiled back at him through the reflection in the mirror, perfecting the first couple of steps without having to give it much thought. You could easily see the grin on Chan’s face, impressed by how well you’d managed to pick the first few steps up.

“Keep going,” he called out as you reached the middle point, hitting the point of the routine perfectly, still under his count that kept you going.

You carried on, paying little attention to Chan, lost in your own little bubble, somehow managing to get through the whole of the chorus without making any noticeable mistakes, hearing him cheer as the chorus came to an end, racing over to pause the music.

“That was insane, how did you manage to learn that so fast?” He laughed, running back across the studio to you, “have you got some sort of super memory I don’t know about?”

“I’ve picked up on enough from seeing your rehearsals, all I really needed was you to bring it altogether for me,” you smiled, feeling his arms snake around your waist.

Chan couldn’t hide his pride at watching you perform one of his routines, although you always supported him in everything that he did, to have you go so far as to learn the dances that he performed time and time again meant the world to him.

“At least next time one of the dancers injures themselves last minute, I know I’ve got you to use as a replacement,” he teased, “if you can pick God’s Menu up that quickly, then I think you could learn the whole setlist pretty quickly.”

“I’m hardly to a standard like you guys are,” you quickly dismissed, jabbing against his chest, “I think the fans would be pretty disappointed if they saw me come up on the stage.”

“You never know, dance like that and I reckon they’d enjoy themselves. We might even have to show the other members just how talented you really are.”

Your head quickly shook, feeling his strong arms pull you against his chest, coupled with his lips peppering against the top of your head several times.

“I enjoyed teaching you the routine, maybe I might have to teach you another one if you’re keen,” he suggested, “I have seen you bust a move to Back Door backstage before.”

“Really? I didn’t think anyone was watching me then.”

“I’ve always got an eye on you, and your great moves too.”

---

Masterlist

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thelordofdarkreunion · 3 years ago

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The Best is Yet to Come

Short story here. I’m so sorry for this ;). This idea just came to me and, well...

As usual, I own no one except Drake and his crew. I also do not own the song listed here. Consider this Magnificent Scoundrels “cannon” if you want, or discard it if you want.

The harsh glare of the Apocalypse’s hagar lighting beat down on technicians fixing shuttles and weapons, and mercenary armsmen taking target practice. In the bright white wash, a group of men stood, wearing a strange assortment of vastly different clothing. They were here to talk about battle plans, refueling stations, and the intricacies of galactic politics, but… the conversation had taken another turn. One that five of the six individuals really wanted to avoid. Unfortunately, they would have to suffer through it for a few moments more, or at least until Drake was finished getting his kicks.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Drake’s face was plastered with a grin that threatened to split it in half beneath his carefully groomed black hair and shining blue eyes. He made a few half choked laughs before he pulled himself together with an effort. “So, I knew, but never really put this together until now. It’s pretty funny actually,” he wheezed.

“No it’s not,” replied a scowling Solo. His companions’ faces were a mixture of beet red faces and death glares, with one completely neutral iron mask slamming into place for the discussion at hand.

“Oh yes it is!” laughed Drake, losing control for a moment and doubling over. He straightened out, and gave a smirk that threatened to turn into belly-busting laughter any moment. “You guys are so far out of your league it isn’t even funny. Except it is. Really.” He pointed to each in turn. “You, Shepard,” this was addressed to a scowling man in a black hoodie emblazoned with the red numerals ‘N7’, “Are in love with the daughter of an admiral of one of the most powerful fleets in existence in your galaxy, who is one of five oligarcal leaders of her race, and, what’s more, she already is will most likely continue to be one of the most powerful and influential Quarians in existence!” He wheeled on each of his companions in turn.

“You, Admiral Vir,” this was to a beet red man in a brown leather coat. A mop of blond hair covered a black eyepatch and one good green eye. “Are in love with the oh-so mighty and powerful Saint of Anin, the leader of her race, the daughter of two of the most powerful Drev generals in their history!”

“You, oh Captain Solo,” a brown haired, brown jacketed man with knee length boots glowered at Drake, “Are absolutely infatuated with brother of the last Jedi, the daughter of the Queen of Naboo, the daughter of Darth frickin’ Vader, and the true leader of the New Republic.”

“You, Mister Quill, love the daughter of the ex-most powerful being in your galaxy, one who erased half of life in your universe, and who is, by the way, the singularly most deadly assassin I’ve ever known.” Another brown haired man, with slight sideburns and an ankle length reddish-brown coat, stared at Drake, emotions flashing across his face. Drake grinned again and turned to the last man.

“And you, Commissar Cain, love an Inquisitor!” Impassive eyes, framed below a black officer’s cap, stared back at Drake. Drake clapped his hands and hooted with laughter. A black gloved hand wiped a tear of mirth from his eye. “Oh, you are all so, so out of your leagues. Tell me, how did you get ‘em? Couldn’t have been your looks,” he teased. Shepard rolled his eyes as his other companions shook their heads. A wicked, conspiratorial look crossed Drake’s face.

“As a matter of fact…” he started. He looked over to two nearby armsman speaking with a weapon specialist and gave a whistle. “Oliver! Saul! Garang! Get over here!” The three Apocalypse crewmen started forward, noting the looks of the group. Drake smiled knowingly at them. “Did you overhear our conversation?” he asked.

“Kinda hard not to, Captain,” replied Saul.

“Yeah, well, I have a sudden, wonderful idea,” said Drake. “I have a wonderful, awful, idea. I just got a wonderful, awful idea!” He grinned again at his three crew members. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked. The three looked at him blankly. He smiled once more and whistled several notes of a song. The three crewmen grinned manically.

“Oh, yes,” beamed Oliver. “I believe I do know what you’re thinking.” The five Scoundrels, regulated to objects of discussion, looked on hesitantly.

“What are you thinking, Drake…?” trailed off Vir. That look wasn’t good. Drake only cackled maniacally and activated his wrist computer. An intimately familiar song began playing over the hangar loudspeakers. At the first few notes, Shepard, Vir, and Quill all buried their faces in their hands or reached out, panicking.

“Drake-!”

“Uptown girl! She’s been living in her uptown world, I bet she never had a backstreet guy, I bet her mother never told her why…” Drake and his three crew slid into formation, dancing along with the music. Vir buried his head further in his arms as Cain and Solo looked around in shock. He’d seen this particular song’s music video, and Drake was doing a damn good job imitating it.

“One of these days I’m going to shoot you, Drake.”

“I’m gonna try for an uptown girl, She’d been living in her white bread world, As long as anyone with hot blood can, And now she’s looking for a downtown man, That’s what I am!” The hangar’s other occupants were looking on with bemusement. A few armsmen even joined in with the singing or dancing.

“And when she knows what she wants from her type, And when she wakes up and makes up her mind,” Quill shrugged and walked over to join Drake. The other four Scoundrels stared.

“Well, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

“She’ll see I’m not so tough, just because I’m in love with an uptown girl!” From absolutely nowhere, Cooper slid in line behind Drake, grinning at his slack-jawed comrades. He’s come at a full running slide, apparently hearing the commotion from wherever he was on the ship. Bastard.

“You know I’ve seen her in her uptown world, She’s getting tired of her high class toys, And all the presents from her uptown boys, She’s got a choice!” Vir sagged his shoulders, defeated, and joined in next to Quill. Everyone joined in the chorus, apparently most of Drake’s armsmen knowing it by heart.

“Uptown girl! You know I can’t afford to buy her pearls, But maybe someday when my ship comes in, She’ll understand what kind of guy I’ve been, And then I’ll win!”

From video conference calls and high viewing booths, Inquisitor Amberley Vail, Senator Leia Organa, Gamora, Sunny, and Tali’Zorah vas Normandy watched, some with shocked faces, others with smiles concealed behind hands.

“What… the hell… are they doing?” asked Vail. The other woman stared at her.

“I… don’t really know,” replied Gamora.

“It’s kinda cute, though,” opinioned Tali.

“And when she’s walking, She’s looking so fine,” Drake gave a teasing wolf-whistle and shook his hand as if he had touched something hot. Cain and Solo just stared as Shepard facepalmed even harder. Cain was certain he heard a bone crack. “And when she’s talking, She’ll say that she’s mine!”

As time went on and more people joined in, the previously somewhat neat lines devolved into individuals showing off or just plain having fun.

“Uptown girl! She’s my uptown girl! You know I’m in love with an uptown girl! My uptown girl! You know I’m in love with an uptown girl! My uptown girl! You know I’m in love with an uptown girl! My uptown girl…”

Uptown Girl: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hCuMWrfXG4E

And there it is. I did not want to spoil the song, but, like I said in the intro, Billy Joel owns “Uptown Girl,” not me. (Should be pretty obvious.) Some explanation for Shepard. I previously somewhere stated that in the Mass Effect games you are Shepard, and you make a hell of a lot of choices, which makes it a bitch to write. I did also say that I would have Shepard fall in love with an alien, though I couldn’t decide which. However, I just realized that Tali is the only male Shepard love interest on the Normandy at the time I incorporated Mass Effect into Magnificent Scoundrels, so it could only be her without a lot more annoyances on my part. I hope you liked it and if you have any questions, comments, concerns, or requests, feel free to ask me!

#magnificent scoundrels #funny #writing #my writing #crossover #fanfic #mass effect #mass effect shepard #star wars #warhammer 40k #guardians of the galaxy #this is pretty dumb but I thought it was funny #humans are wierd

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years ago

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Title: Kismet {11}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Plot, Slow Burn, Mild Cursing, Dialogue Heavy

Words: 7k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

Note: The musical notes emoji 🎶 signifies a song being sung. They are the lyrics.

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘

As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |

🎶 “But I don't wanna give up. Baby, I just want you to get up. Lately, I've been a little fed up. Wish you would just focus on—me. Can you focus on me? Baby, can you focus on me?”

The sounds of H.E.R filled the semi-rustic kitchen as you moved around it, checking on the multiple things you were making. Her album was one of your go-to things for mellowing out. You sang along and got lost vocalizing along with her. It didn’t take long for you to forget what time it was and that you weren’t exactly alone in the house. As the song ended and the next came on, you held your hands in the air, already feeling the opening of Girls Need Love Too.

🎶 “Honestly, I'm tryna stay focused. You must think I've got to be joking when I say. I don't think I can wait. I just need it now. Better swing my way.”

The lyrics were hitting you as right as gospel right about now. Pulling open the oven, you checked on the treats inside, making sure they were rising just the way they needed to. After you were pleased with their progress, you checked your pots on the stove one more time, then went back to the pitcher you were mixing your famous mimosas. That was when DSVN came on, and the hypnotizing sound of the lyrics with the beat made your mind drift back to Henry, especially when the hook came on. It sounded like it was made just for you in this situation.

For the next few minutes, you focused on trying not to burn breakfast rather than dancing or singing. That was until Santana came on, and you couldn’t help but bust out your best salsa moves to Carlos’ electric guitar and Latin flare. The song was so catchy that you quickly got carried away winding your hips and doing your best Shakira impersonation. If she were standing in front of you, you thought she’d be proud because you gave it everything you had. Before you knew it, the song was almost over, and you’d forgotten about being quiet, and were now singing along to the song as you danced around the kitchen.

“Someone woke up on the right side of the bed.”

Your scream was loud, so loud it bounced off the walls of the room. Your head nearly snapped off your neck from the force of which you spun around.

“Oh my god!”

Henry stood there pinching his lips, trying to stop himself from laughing at you.

“You scared me half to death.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I um—I smelled food and heard music, and here you are,” Henry explained.

“Oh no, no. How long were you standing there?”

Another smile spread across his face, and it was all you needed to know he’d probably seen the whole thing. Embarrassment filled you.

“Oh god, no.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. You can dance and sing. I enjoyed the show.”

You snorted while shaking your head, trying to overcome your embarrassment. When you met his eyes again, you still saw the amusement there.

“Good morning,” you began.

“Good morning. What’s—what’s going on?”

He motioned to the organized chaos around you.

“Oh, breakfast.”

“Did you order?”

“Nope. One hundred percent handmade but these hands,” you replied, holding up your hands and flexing your fingers for emphasis.

Henry’s eyebrows shot up as he approached the kitchen island.

“You cook.”

Approaching the same island on the opposite side, you nodded. “I cook and bake and mix and clean, iron, and do laundry.”

Henry snorted and nodded, clearly amused by the sarcasm in your voice.

“Cute.”

You smiled and leaned against it, resting your elbows on the wooden island keeping your eyes on him.

“I know I don’t look it, but they do say never judge a book by its cover,” you replied.

Henry nodded before he spoke. “For the record, I’ve never judged you.”

You studied him for several moments before your eyes drifted over him, taking in his tan linen pants and cream shirt. He looked good, and you almost got lost in that before you snapped out of it. Clearing your throat, you pushed off the island and looked around.

“I’m almost done.”

“What’s for breakfast, chef Taylor?”

You smiled, “I’m glad you asked Mr. Cavill. We have lavender vanilla bean beignets, scrambled eggs, sausages, and of course mimosas.”

Henry’s eyebrows again shot up. “Wow. How long have you been up?”

Turning from him, you dropped a few mint leaves into the pitcher you’d just mixed. “Well, I actually haven’t slept yet.”

“So you’ve been up all night?”

“Yep.”

Sliding to the right, you turned off the oven and took out the beignets to place them on the stove to cool.

“Why? Is everything all right?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. I’m a night—insomniac.”

He was going to find out one way or another throughout this vacation anyway, you reasoned with yourself.

“Really?”

He sounded hesitant but also surprised.

“Yeah, most of the time.”

You used the time he stood there in a state of shock to finish up what you were doing before turning back to him.

“Are you going to pass out later or soon?”

“Nope. Come on. All done. Can you grab those two?”

You nodded your head to the two platters on the stove as you took the others walking out of the kitchen to the outdoor dining table he’d shown you yesterday. Once he saw the table that had two other platters and set place settings, he exclaimed.

“Wow.”

“I know, but I like to cook.”

“Everything smells incredible,” Henry complimented as he stood at one of the Rattan chairs waiting for you to sit first.

Once you sat down, you motioned for him to begin. “Dig in.”

A few minutes passed with the two of you loading your plates with various items. Once you were finished, you took up the pitcher and poured drinks for you both. When he brought one of your beignets to his mouth, you paused and watched him sink his teeth into it. As soon as he did, he moaned so loud it filled the space and drifted off.

“Holy--,” he began but never finished because he took several more bites finishing his first one. Once he’d swallowed and reached for another, he continued. “How did you learn to make beignets?”

“Well, it began with my Gramaw, but eventually, it was experimenting.”

He bit into another and rolled his eyes into the back of his head, and groaned. “These are heaven.”

“I’m glad you like them.”

Covering his food-filled mouth, he spoke, “Love them, get it correct.”

You snorted and nodded as you began to eat. The view before you caught your eye once again, and getting lost was easy. The morning was beautiful, warm, and calm, with a gentle breeze that carried the salt in the air from the nearby sea. You didn’t know who wouldn’t love waking up to this every day. It was then you realized how badly you’d needed a vacation after all.

“You stare out a lot.”

Henry’s voice brought your eyes back to him to find his already on you.

“I’m sorry,” you began with a soft smile. “Another thing about me, I do that—a lot.”

“What’re you thinking about?”

You looked out again and nudged your head to the view. “How incredible this view is and that I can’t believe it’s been so long since I’ve taken a vacation,” you confessed.

“Tell me about it. I was literally running on fumes. I have no idea how I made it this far,” Henry said.

You continued to eat and fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes before he spoke again.

“Was there anything particular you wanted to do today?”

“Like what?”

“There’s so much to do. I know a good spa. There’s diving, boat tours of this incredible lagoon, wine tasting, touring, driving along cote d'Azur. You name it, and it can be done,” he listed off.

“A lot of choices.”

You brought your legs up and hugged them to your body as you continued to eat while thinking about your options.

“What do you feel like doing?”

“I don’t mind either way,” Henry quickly responded.

That didn’t help you one bit, but you made the decision all the same. “Nothing screams vacation like a bikini, and a beach, so let’s live it up.”

He smiled as he nodded. “All right. We have a plan then,” he said, clapping his hands.

The rest of breakfast was comfortable and peaceful. Neither of you seemed to mind that conversation fell to the wayside because you were both lost in the food and scenery before you. After breakfast, you and Henry managed to do the dishes and clean up the kitchen together as you endured his teasing on the multitude of things you’d used to cook. As you cleaned, you caught his eyes on your body a few times, but he kept his physical distance for the most part. After you separated to get yourselves ready for your day in the sun.

You spent longer than necessary trying to decide on the right bikini. You didn’t know if you should go demure princess or buxom goddess. You were moving and making decisions by reading him. You told yourself the night before that you’d go at his pace and take your cues from him. If he initiated touching, you’d reciprocate. If he kissed you, you’d kiss him back. If he stayed away, you would too. You didn’t want to do the wrong thing or anything, especially since you didn’t know where you stood with him. Letting your self-doubt win, you chose the middle ground on the bikini.

Thirty minutes later, you stepped outside the villa to find Henry waiting patiently at a white Fiat convertible.

“Wow. Is this yours?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t know why I’m surprised. We have established that you’re a car man.”

He smiled as his eyes trailed over you. “Wow. The short shorts come out, huh.”

You looked over yourself, then back to him. “This is short? Ha, just you wait. I have even shorter.”

“I bet you do,” Henry chided as he held open the passenger door for you.

“It’s about a ten-minute drive to the beach, maybe eight if the cliffside isn’t flooded.”

“Wow, you’re right there, huh.”

He smiled and nodded as you slipped into the car.

“All right, let’s go. I have a goal to be kissed plentifully by this French sun, so in two weeks' time, I’m showing every bit of the melanin my ancestors blessed me with,” you joked.

Henry shut your door and walked around to the driver’s side. Once in, he pressed the start button.

“Bring it on. I happened to really like yours…it’s sexy,” he slipped in, meeting your eyes for a few moments.

“Did you just call me sexy, Mr. Cavill?”

His smile was wide before he slipped on his sunglasses. “Did I? Maybe, maybe not,” he said before he pulled off, beginning the journey.

As he drove, you relished the breeze and sun on your skin and waved your hands in the air, fully enjoying the carefree vibes you felt. Before long, you’d pulled out your phone and began snapping a multitude of pictures of the scenery, the people, and occasionally even Henry, though he probably had no idea. You didn’t want to miss the chance to see how perfect he looked behind the wheel.

When you got close to the beach, Henry parked along the cliff as plenty other cars had done. According to him, no one made a fuss about small things like that; as long as people could still pass it was all right. The laidback style was already agreeing with you. With him carrying all the bags like the gentleman he was, you allowed him to lead you across the road toward the sands of the beach and then down the shore to find the perfect spot. It took a few minutes, but when you found it, you staked your claim, stomping in the sand, marking it as yours. Henry took the initiative, spreading the oversized beach blanket using the items you’d brought with you as anchors for the corners.

Once he’d gotten it perfect, you wasted no time pulling off your tank then peeling off the shorts your wore. You tried to keep your eyes away from him, though you really wanted to know if you had his undivided attention. The middle ground bikini you’d chosen was still a look. The cut complimented your curves, while the color complimented your complexion. You wanted to take it at his pace, but you also had to show him you were still hot.

When you lied back on the blanket, you gawked at the ocean before you and marveled at its sparkle while the sun reflected off of it. Looking beside you to him, you found his eyes on you and his jaw slightly ajar.

“This is so beautiful.”

Henry snapped his head away from you and looked at the view you were just staring at. “Very,” he replied, his voice constrained as if his throat were closing. He held your bag out to you, but he didn’t look at you again.

“Thank you.”

You dug through it looking for your sunscreen spray. Once you’d found it, you began spraying along your arms and shoulders, rubbing the mist in working your way to your chest.

“Why France?”

“Huh? Excuse me?”

“France. Why France for buying a house?”

“Well, I have some French blood-ties; the Channel Islands has its history of it, and France is smack in the middle of there and London. I fell in love with it,” he explained.

“Why Bandol?”

“Oh, that’s easy. It’s still luxurious enough like St. Tropez but not as high profile. I can be Henry here and not worry someone is taking my picture.”

You nodded and understood perfectly. It was hard being on all the time. You’d gotten so used to it that you often forgot how to be off.

“I get it. It’s the same reason why I’ll always choose Australia and Ireland overall,” you explained.

“I’ve only seen Ireland a few times. I think I need to go back,” Henry added.

You smiled as fond memories washed over you of your time in Ireland. “You definitely should.”

You sprayed your shoulder closest to him and began rubbing in the liquid.

“Ehm, need some help?”

Your eyes met, and you fought back your smirk. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah, I can help. It’s no problem,” Henry assured.

You handed him the bottle, then turned your back to him and waited. He didn’t touch you for several moments.

“How many tattoos do you have?”

“Um—not sure, seven, eight maybe,” you said while anxiously waiting for him to begin.

“That’s quite a bit.”

“Not too much. They’re all strategically placed,” you explained.

When you felt the sprays on your back, you held your breath and waited for him to touch you. As Soon As he did, you bit your bottom lip, trying to ignore the feeling of completeness that washed over you. You liked the feel of his hands on your skin.

“Have you—ehm, have you ever thought about tattoos?”

“I have,” Henry began, his voice deeper than it had been moments before. his hands trailed lower to the small of your back, and you hunched over even more, giving him more access. “I’ve just never gotten around to it,” he finished.

Turning your head to rest your cheek on the tops of your knees, you smiled. “Too much work?”

A soft chuckle escaped him, and you felt his thump trail up your spine until he reached the back of your neck. Two sprays hit your skin, and he began rubbing into your shoulders. A weak moan slipped out, but he didn’t pull away. The kneading of his hands became more forceful then. You were quickly losing your nerve and grip on reality. Another moan slipped from your throat, and that was when Henry’s hands stilled and rested at your shoulder blades. You felt his fingertips trace the softest pattern onto your skin before they were gone.

“All done.”

By then, your heart was racing, and the butterflies in your gut were fluttering below your waist. Clearing your throat, you turned back to the ocean.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” Henry said before he stood and discarded his shirt.

The action didn’t help you at all. Your jaw hit the floor as you took in every inch of him you’d spent all night since seeing the sprigs of hair peeking out his shirt. Plenty of dark hair decorated his chest and trailed down his abs until it disappeared behind his pants. A soft gasp drifted out of you, but your eyes refused to stop ogling. So you sat there looking at him and counting each of his eight ab muscles. The man had an eight pack; you thought to yourself as your throat painfully tightened.

“What’s wrong?”

Jerking your head up to his face, you shook your head, trying to find words.

“Wrong? Huh, nothing—um—you uh—you’re—you’re--.”

Henry smiled as he cocked his brow, waiting for you to say something intelligible. You had nothing, though.

“Cat got your tongue?” The humor in his voice was so obvious, and you felt like an idiot.

“And my brain cells, it would seem.”

His smile made you smile while trying to avert your eyes from the rock hard statue that he was.

“Sorry.”

Henry scoffed. “It’s okay,” he said.

“No, it’s not. You’re a person, not a piece of meat,” you clarified, feeling awful. You were doing the same thing to him that you hated men doing to you.

“Wait, you think I’m a piece of meat?”

Looking back at him, you spoke, “No, but I’m sure women look at you like you’re a piece of meat and in turn treat you like it.”

He nodded, “They have in the past.”

Your eyes again drifted downward, but you caught yourself before they got to his massive pecs. Clearing your throat, you stood.

“Do you burn easily?”

“I’m a white British man, of course, I do,” Henry joked, making you snort loudly.

“Wow, do you want some?”

He held his hands up as if to shield himself from you. “Are you looking for an excuse to feel me up?”

“What!?”

Henry snorted and laughed loudly.

“You’re kidding,” you surmised.

“Yes. You should have seen your face.”

You shook your head while burying your face in your hands. “Wow. That’s not cool.”

“You were an easy target,” Henry said, turning his back to you. “Oil me up, baby.”

You had every intention to, but the side of him from the back stopped you in your tracks for a few moments. As you slowly approached him, you accessed the entire meal that was him before you, unsure where to start. You sprayed over his back then slowly began rubbing across his skin. You couldn’t believe that even his back was as toned as an Olympian. Your brain was slowly short-circuiting with every inch of skin you touched. When you brought your hands down his spine to his tailbone, Henry groaned, and you fought the urge to go lower.

“All—done,” you said slightly above a whisper.

“Not quite,” Henry said, turning to face you. “My chest burns easily too.”

Face to face with temptation; you knew you were destined to give in. it was only a matter of time.

“I thought you could--.”

“—Nope. You started the job, so you should finish it.”

Smiling, you bit your bottom lip. “Does that go for my chest too?”

Henry’s eyes dropped to your breasts and rested there for a few seconds before he looked back into your eyes with a completely cheeky expression on his face. “Well—that is entirely up to you, Ms. Taylor.”

Like a child, you giggled most uncharacteristically. Slapping your hand across your mouth, Henry laughed at you. “Oh god.”

You sprayed across his chest and abs but hesitated touching him. Instead, you stood there gawking at the way his chest glistened. It’s not that you didn’t want to feel. You really, really wanted to feel. You just didn’t think you would be able to not come across as a thirsty fiend. Henry waited patiently waited no doubt taking notice of how you were beginning to hyperventilate. After a minute, he took a step back.

“Here, I’ll finish the job—this time.”

You dropped to the blanket and laid back, trying to recover. You couldn’t believe this was life right now. You’d never been attracted to anyone like this. You never struggled like this with anyone, and that reality was a little alarming. Peeking up, you watched as Henry finished rubbing the sunscreen into his chest, spreading it along his swollen shoulders and bulging arms. Your mouth ran dry while another part of you was anything but.

While proving to be a heightened temptation, a day at the beach was just what the vacation doctors ordered. The roaring sun, the breeze with the salt in the air, and the screams and laughs of people enjoying themselves were wonderful. You didn’t think about work not once, or anything beyond the man beside you reading a book and the book you were reading while the soft sounds of jazz drifted between you. It was perfect.

Every so often, your eyes drifted to Henry and took in different parts of him. Everything you saw you liked, and the fact that you liked it, only helped your brain daydream even more. There were a few times he caught you staring at him just as you caught him staring at you or parts of your body. When you did catch him, it only emboldened you to play up different parts of your body. You were relieved to know he at least still found you attractive.

When he goaded you into the water, the two of you played in the waves. The first time Henry splashed you and got water in your hair, you made gasped and pretended to make a big deal about it, which prompted him to apologize profusely. You considered it payback until you tackled him in the water, holding him underneath until he lifted you in his arms like he was Goliath. Your eyes locked, and there was a moment you thought he would kiss you, but instead, he tossed you into the water. That one action began a water war that he easily won thanks to his colossal size and overpowering strength. You didn’t mind.

By the time you’d sat to enjoy the picnic lunch Henry had packed, only a handful of people had recognized the two of you and asked for autographs and pictures. It really was the perfect first day of vacation, and you already didn’t want it to end. After lunch, you and Henry were walking along the shore, enjoying the lull of water crashing onto your ankles like you had no cares in the world.

~~~~~~~~

-Henry-

You were gorgeous, more gorgeous than you’d ever been. You were drop dead with make-up on, but without you were a knockout. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, and he knew you had to know. There was no way that you didn’t. He didn’t start the day with any expectations because he really didn’t know what to expect, but it had turned out to be a great day. He looked across to you and took in your curled and coiled hair that framed your face and gave you an even more youthful glow.

“So your hair is naturally curly?”

You smiled and nodded as you turned to look at him.

“Curly, coiled, kinky, it’s a bunch of stuff.”

“So you straighten it.”

“Yeah,” you confirmed.

He was confused. “Why?”

With your brows knitted together, you took him in. “What do you mean why?”

“Why? I can imagine it takes a lot of time. So, why do you do it?”

You scoffed but didn’t speak right away. He allowed you the time to think.

“Well—in the business, it’s easier. As horrible as it is, there are not many people who will cast the black actress with unruly hair or will have the right people who can do it properly. It’s a huge thing for black actresses, and unfortunately, can be the reason why many don’t get a role. So for me—I guess I got used to directors or photographers preferring the sleek look, so I just—maintain it. No one really cares for this,” you said, motioning to your hair.

He understood what you were saying. Hollywood was fickle; he was living through it right now but couldn’t believe people's ignorance.

“I like your hair right now. I like how free and beautiful it is. You don’t look—bound. You look free.”

Your eyes met his, but he couldn’t read the look in them.

“Oh uh—thank—you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied with a smile. “You should just leave it alone from now on.”

You snorted. “Oh, is this how you want to see me?”

He could hear the tease in your tone, “Free and beautiful? Absolutely.”

Again the look in your eyes stumped him. Before he could ask you what you were thinking, you looked away and back out to the water.

“What if I want to see you like this from now on?”

He chuckled, “What, shirtless with bad hair?”

You laughed with him for a few seconds. “Well, nothing wrong with this view at all,” you said, making him blush.

“Oh, and for the record, your hair is anything but bad. When it’s all slicked to perfection, you look put together, but—I like the more…distressed you. You look free and boundless.”

The smile on his lips hadn’t slipped since you’d begun your walk, and staring at you, he didn’t think it would slip. You looked away and cleared your throat, something you’d been doing a lot the entire day.

“I’ll make a deal with you. You keep this look going, and I’ll keep this look going,” you proposed piquing his interest.

“Do we have a deal?”

“All right, we have a deal,” he sealed, holding out his hand for you to shake. When you did, you smiled mischievously.

“Good,” you said before you pushed him into the water and the incoming wave.

Shock flooded him though he should have known from the glint in your eye he’d picked up.

“Did you really?”

With pride and joy, you nodded, “I sure did.”

As he stood, he wiped his face of the water and chuckled to himself.

“As a gentleman, I will give you a four-second head start,” he announced.

“Four seconds?”

“Three now.”

You squealed and ran down the beach, trying to put as much distance between you as possible. It was futile. He was fast. Once he’d counted down, he took off after you. When you looked back to see him coming, you screamed louder and tried to pick up the speed, but as he said, he was fast. In a few short seconds, he caught you and immediately began tickling you, making you scream even louder.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you shouted through bouts of laughter and screams.

“No, no, too late for that.”

With you in his arms, he brought you to the water facing you out so you could see the massive wave coming in. You screamed again while kicking your legs, trying to get him to drop you, but it was no use. Seeing there was no way out, you stopped screaming, but when he tossed you into the wave, you screamed until the water engulfed you. He stepped back and waited for you to wash up on the shore. When you did, he proceeded to tickle you some more until you tripped him and rolled onto him to retaliate.

Though he hadn’t let on that he was ticklish, you figured it out and exploited it mercilessly. The tickling led to both of you playfully throwing wet sand at each other while waves knocked you down. When he grabbed you, he smeared the wet sand across your chest below your collar, making you scream. That was when you coated his chest down to his waist. He pulled you to him rubbing his chest over yours to make sure you were as lathered as he was.

“Oh my god!”

A wave crashed over the two of you, nearly drowning you—nearly. When the water receded, you were still there in his arms, practically underneath him. he took in your beauty, and all he wanted to do was kiss you. he almost did before he stopped remembering what had led you to this point. He was tired of proving and showing you he wanted you—wanted to be with you. It was your turn to prove to him that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. That was when another wave washed over you, dampening the mood. He was thankful for it.

Once he was standing, he pulled you upright.

“Ready to go?”

You nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”

~~~~~~~~~

-Y/N-

After leaving the beach, the two of you walked along the shops that decorated the surrounding area. He pointed out all the places he’d visited over the last few days. He knew some of the shop owners by their names, and it was something you liked for some reason. After the first few shops, you decided to pick up something for dinner and spent the next few minutes trying to decide just what to get.

“Any special requests?”

Henry’s surprise only lasted a few minutes before the smile you were getting so used to appeared.

“You’re cooking?”

“Yep.”

His surprise turned to awe as he circled you once. “You can pick whatever you want,” he whispered in your ear before he walked to a stack of cans.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded, assuring you that you were good to make the decision.

“Do you eat a lot?”

“Do you?”

“Hell yeah, I do,” you said in an exaggerated tone that had Henry laughing.

As you walked around the store, you placed various items in the basket that Henry carried. Some peppers, scallions, garlic, onions, mushrooms, and plenty of herbs followed before you walked across the way to a seafood shop. You thought about something simple like salmon but changed your mind when you saw lobsters and said what the hell. You were only going to get two, but Henry piped up and tricked you into four, citing your insatiable appetite. Deep down, you wondered what appetite exactly he was referring to, for food or him. A trip to the local spirits shop had you stocked for more than just one night.

When you made it back to the villa, Henry was the one to carry the bags to the kitchen, not letting you lift anything but the beach bag you’d left with at the start of your day. You met him in the kitchen in time to see him hoist everything onto the island.

“All right, you’re all set there.”

“Thank you, Superman.”

He smiled and helped you unpack the items in the bags, laying them out on the counters and the island. Once that was finished, you made a move to the door.

“I’m going to take a shower. I can feel sand everywhere.”

What was to be a relatively quick shower quickly turned long because you needed to wash your hair and treat it, so you didn’t have any residual salt damage. No one liked breaking hair. That alone usually took almost an hour. Instead of going for the full experience, you cut a few corners in the routine but still managed to complete it. After throwing on a pair of shorts and a tank, you made your way back to the kitchen, ready to cook one of the best meals he’d ever have.

With soft music playing and a towel wrapped around your hair while your leave-in heat treatment did what it was made to, you began prepping the ingredients. The soft music and time alone gave you more time to process the perfect day you’d just had. There was nothing about it that you’d change, even down to the intense tension that was constantly between you. If another day played out the same way, you still would think it was perfect.

“All right, I’m clean now. Would you like some help?”

Henry stood behind you in a tank and sweats with his hair full of curls.

“Sure, you can actually prove to me that you know what you’re doing in here,” you teased as he approached your side.

“I’m about to knock your knickers off.”

You snorted and peeped at him. “Promise.”

The flustered look on his face said he just realized the land mind he’s just stepped into. Pushing it to the side, you focused on the chives you were chopping.

“What would you like me to do?”

Looking around the kitchen, you assessed everything that needed to be done then delegated.

“Those veggies need to be rough diced and washed.”

“Consider it done,” Henry replied, stepping away to begin prep. Before he began, though, he walked to one of the bottles of wine you’d just gotten, popped it, and poured two glasses.

“A little vino for you.”

Smiling, you took the glass. “Thank you.”

The two of you worked together chopping, dicing, and slicing the vegetables and herbs and the seafood for dinner. Every few minutes, your eyes met, and you giggled. Once the cooking began, Henry teased you about your towel wrapped hair, saying that was how magazine covers should show you. You watched his form and how he handled his knives and liked how he moved. He handled knives like he’d been doing it his whole life.

When you saw him perfectly Julianne cut the cucumbers you practically drooled and were ready to push him against that island. You loved a man who could handle himself in the kitchen. Pumping iron and weights and a nice body was great, but cooking dinner for someone because you care, was a supreme turn on.

When the lobster was steaming and the potatoes boiling, you leaned beside him and watched him kneed the dough he was prepping for what he called his famous sugar rolls.

“So mentioned you have nieces or nephews? I don’t remember which,” you began.

“Yes. Three nephews, no nieces.”

“Cool. What’re their names?”

Henry smiled as he spoke, “James and Peter and Lucas.”

“Strong names.”

“Yeah, Nik and Charlie picked them,” he said.

“Nik—he’s the older brother, right?”

“Oldest. I’m surprised you remember.”

“No girl?”

“Ha, Charlie really wants a girl. He has a son Lucas but dreams about having a daughter.”

“Nice. I have two nephews, Niko and Milo, and a niece Aloa, my oldest sister Miesha,” you added.

The way Henry smiled, you could tell he liked kids. “That’s nice. Do you see them a lot?”

“I try. It’s hard, though, with my schedule.”

He nodded, then shifted to the sink to rinse off the cucumbers before beginning with the carrots.

“I understand.”

With your curiosity piqued, you decided to dive right in. “So you like kids.”

“Love kids,” he replied. “You?”

“Uh—yeah. They’re precious.”

“I’m guessing you’re close to your brothers.”

“Oh god, yes, really, really close. We talk several times a day. They’re my first call when something good or bad happens, and it’s the same for them.”

“That’s good. I’m close to mine too. We don’t talk every day, but I try. I do have a twin, so we don’t need to talk. We just know what’s going on with each other,” you explained.

“How is that having a twin?”

You shrugged and put a piece of cucumber into your mouth. “It’s everyday like for me. I don’t know what to say,” you said with a small chuckle.

“Are all the clichés true?”

You scoffed and went back to keeping yourself busy. “What clichés exactly?”

“Oh, you know that you feel each other’s pain and feel what the other feels, oh that you know what they’re thinking.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “It’s not like I fall down the stairs, and he feels me fall. That’s just impossible.”

Henry nodded and moved to rinse the carrots.

“Yeah, it’s more like a constant presence I feel. You—you never really feel alone, sort of like this constant connection or feeling like someone always has your back. We can feel what the other feels a lot of the time, but it’s sort of like a gut feeling more than an actual physical feeling. There are times he’ll feel when I’m sad and crying, and it’s incredibly annoying.”

“I can imagine,” Henry started.

Feeling his eyes on you, you turned to face him and waited for him to speak.

“Does he feel everything—your moments of happiness or—pleasure?”

Snorting, you laughed loudly, unable to keep it in.

“Happiness, I think there could be valid proof to that. As for pleasure, no idea. It’s never been brought up but kinda creepy to think about that.”

You both busted out laughing, realizing just how creepy it would be if there were any validity to that. Cooking together turned out to be really fun. Usually, you hated people in your space, but with Henry, you didn’t mind it at all. You didn’t mind the subtle way his body brushed yours whenever he passed you. You didn’t mind the sly looks across the kitchen when he took a sip of his wine. You didn’t mind the flirtation in the air, and when he watched you make your lemon cake for dessert, you didn’t mind that he was learning one of your secret recipes. It was something you felt you could get used to.

Two hours later, you were bringing out one of the platters to the dining table in the yard just in time to catch Henry putting a clay vase filled with beautiful lavender and rapeseed flowers. The purple and yellow combo was so bright it looked like it belonged with the décor around you.

“Wow, would you look at that,” you began eyeing the perfectly set table. “You can set a table too.”

His smile was wide. “I sure can.”

“With the proper place settings. I’m impressed.”

He ran his fingers through his hair and slowly licked his lips as he shrugged. “I didn’t go to finishing school or anything but--,” Henry trailed off, making you laugh at the sly reference to you.

“Oh, okay, Mr. Cavill.”

You backed away with your hands raised, making your way back to the kitchen with him following close behind. You pointed to him the items to go, and he walked with you back outside.

“I know you think I eat a lot, but--.”

“Oh, stop it. I am sure you have to have a high-calorie intake to maintain your Superman shape, so—ta-da,” you said, giving him jazz hands in front of the food-filled table.

“Oh, so you’re looking out for me, huh.”

“Of course. What else is your girlfriend supposed to do?”

Henry’s smile slowly slipped before it reappeared but only for a second. “Girlfriend, huh?”

Just like that, your stomach fell through the floor, fully realizing what you’d said. Now you felt like an idiot especially seeing his reaction.

“Um—well--.”

Not waiting for you to respond, Henry walked to your chair and pulled it out for you.

“Uh—give me a second,” you said, bending forward to pull the towel off of your head.

It had been well past the forty-five minutes you usually kept it on for, and you didn’t want to eat with this heavy thing on your head. Using your fingers, you combed through your curls then stood up to face him. This was practically the first time you stood before a man that wasn’t part of your family with your hair natural. You hated that you felt self-conscience about it. The look on his face was a lot different this time. His eyes were wide, and his mouth ajar.

“Sorry. Thanks,” you said, slipping into the chair.

Once he’d pushed you in, he sat across from you.

“So I know you love your beer and steak,” you began with a smile. “So the steak is cooked in Guinness—a lot of Guinness.”

Henry chuckled and assessed the steak on his plate while nodding.

“Bon appetite.”

Once henry put a slice of the steak in his mouth, he moaned and gave you the chef’s kiss. You knew exactly what it meant, the good ol seal of approval.

“This is really good.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

After putting another slice of steak into his mouth, he nodded. “I love it. you’re a great cook.”

“Thank you. I tried to tell you.”

Henry chuckled, giving you a slight roll of his eyes before he continued eating. He was right dinner was good. While you ate, you enjoyed the setting sun and conversation about music, good food, and good wine. One bottle of wine quickly finished, then you were cracking open another and another. When dinner was finished, you sat there listening to the stories of his childhood where his mother played referee between five boys. The way he talked about her made her sound like a saint. It was clear to see how much he admired and loved her. That made you like him even more.

By the time you climbed into bed for the night, your mind was racing a mile a minute, and all your thoughts were of Henry and the probability that he just might be the perfect man. That thought scared you even more than there being something wrong with him. If he were perfect, then it meant he was perfect for you, and perfect for you meant commitment, complications, and vulnerability while opening the stage for possible heartbreak. Even through the fear, one constant remained—you wanted him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#kismet fic #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill x black ofc #slow burn fanfic #black fanfiction

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 5 years ago

Text

A Little Healing | Jason Todd

✦ pairing — Jason Todd x Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 1.4k

✦ request — can i request one with Jason Todd similar to the bewitched one that you had done for Damian

✦ summary — it takes almost losing you for Jason to admit that he doesn’t hate you.

✦ warnings — mentions of violence and injuries, mentions of heartbreak, little bit of angst, a sexual innuendo, fluff?

✦ a/n — I realized while I was editing that this fic sounds like If The World Was Ending by JP Saxe and Julia Michaels so you can listen to that song while reading if you want, but it’s just a coincidence.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

The world was ending, but he didn’t care. Jason didn’t felt the earthquake. He found out about it because the people around him were panicking. Bruce called immediately, telling him to get to the meeting point as quickly and safely as possible.

He had expected to see you there, annoying him with your presence and your comments on how late he was. Jason grew worried when he realized everyone but you and Donna had arrived already.

The earthquake didn’t scare you. Donna had reacted quickly, however, and her first instinct was helping out whoever needed it.

You hated the fact that your first instinct had been wondering how the person you despised the most was doing.

It could have waited, you knew he would surely be okay — he had to be, he existed to torment you and you had doubted it would change because the world was ending.

That didn’t stop you from imagining his reaction, from almost calling just to make sure he would be there to annoy you once Donna and you made it to the meeting point.

You had been so busy getting distracted that you put several people in danger. You never made it to the meeting point nor to annoy him with your presence which was a shame.

Jason couldn’t take his eyes off you as he took his jacket off. Your busted lip was such a familiar sight that he would’ve dared to smile if it weren’t because of every other bruise on your face and neck.

“Donna said you would need something to eat.” He threw a couple of protein bars onto your lap. “That’s all I found. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow to eat properly.”

You stared down at the bright packets, confused. “Don’t you have people to go and help?”

“No.” He shook his head, placing his helmet on your bedside table. You still kept it empty, funnily enough.

“I don’t need you to babysit me.”

The mockery you were expecting never came. He either forgot how to speak or his brain was getting too slow to come up with one of his unnecessary harsh observations.

You wanted him to try. He had dared to appear on your bedside after a year of hostility, he must have had a good reason to try and rip your heart out again.

You weren’t meant for each other like you had thought. Love turned into hate too quickly, big deal.

“You almost died.”

You had almost died, distracted by thinking about him. In a way, it was poetic, he hated you so much that he almost got you killed even without being there.

“I’ll be fine,” you insisted. The last thing you wanted was his presence to ruin your recovery.

He sat down on your bed, taking one of the packets and opening it for you. “I don’t doubt it.” He thrust the protein bar onto your face. “Eat.”

Clenching your jaw as you tried not to complain, you lifted your farthest arm to take the snack.

Frowning, he carefully shifted. “What’s wrong with your left hand?”

“Nothing,” you gritted, bringing the protein bar to your mouth to take a bite off it.

You hated protein bars, they were always overly sweet or so dense you would’ve rather been eating cardboard.

Too curious regarding your left hand, Jason grabbed it.

You dropped the protein bar, choking on both the dense block and a cry. “FUCK OFF.”

He carefully placed your broken hand down, shifty eyes avoiding your now dampened by tears face. “I’m sorry. I’ll get you a painkiller.”

“I finished them already.”

“The whole bottle?”

“It fucking hurts, Jason!”

He picked the protein bar, getting it near your mouth so you could take another bite. “Is the right one hurt too?”

“My shoulder,” you explained, unintentionally looking into his eyes. Taking a bite off the protein bar, you deviated your eyes to his own bandaged hand.

Jason cleared his throat. “I’ll take you to the hospital in the morning, it’s not safe right now. Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” you snapped. It was too out of character for him to even be nice to you that you would’ve considered that he was poisoning you with the protein bars if you feared for your life.

He had always thought your lack of self-preservation annoying, moronic even. He had saved you many times because of your refusal to be careful — you reminded him of himself when he had just been brought back to life.

You wanted to ask him to help you pass out, but you already knew he would deny you. He always did.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

“Will you ever tell me what happened between you and Jason?”

You glared at her, making Donna laugh. You should’ve known she wouldn’t be intimidated. “You want the truth?”

“That’s why I asked.”

“He broke my heart so I realized how big of an annoying asshole he is.”

She frowned. “You dated him?”

Snorting, you leaned over so she would help you rearrange the pillow behind you. “Not really, things didn’t work out.”

As she sat back on the couch, you started to do the exercises the doctor had recommended. Stretching your right arm, reaching up as far as you could, you entertained yourself to not give more explanations. It hurt still, but the pain was getting bearable.

“He’s been asking for updates every hour.”

“Tell him I’m dead.”

Donna knew you didn’t mean it, and that was the most frustrating part. “He’s worried.”

You turned to look at her, cheek flush against the pillow. “Why are you telling me this?”

“The world almost ended and he dropped everything to come aid you.”

You didn’t like how your mind wandered around the possibility of him truly caring about you. He hadn’t taken you seriously for months, why would it change after seizing communication?

Donna continued telling you every time Jason asked about you, and every time she would give you that look of disappointed mom when you feigned indifference.

Getting your hopes would be emotional suicide. Jason had been clear when he said it had been a one (two, really) time thing. It only took a taste for you to fall for him.

And he took advantage of it. How could you still not fully hate him?

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Jason didn’t visit you at the hospital, Donna said it wouldn’t be a good idea and although he knew you were exaggerating, he agreed.

However, he visited you as soon as you were home. You didn’t know why he cared so much; it bothered you.

“What do you want?”

He dismissed your tone. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

You hated the lack of sarcasm in his voice. “Come on, Jason,” you chuckled bitterly, “you hate me, why would you care?”

“Don’t say that, I’ve never hated you.”

“No? I dreamt it, then?”

He groaned, taking the seat next to yours. “You haven’t treated me that well either.”

Turning your head to the opposite side from where he was, you said, “I don’t want to talk about this. I’m fine, you’ve seen it for yourself.”

“I love you.”

“How dare you say that, Jason?” Wishing you could talk without looking at him, you gave in and turned to look at him. He always made you give in one way or another. “You said you didn’t want anything serious and a year later you love me? That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

The anger in your eyes was nothing compared with the way your voice broke. Jason couldn’t take it, he didn’t like it when you were upset. He could deal with an angry you, but a sad you broke his heart.

“I didn’t know what I wanted. I do now.”

You amused him, “And what do you want?”

“You. A proper relationship with you.”

You had wanted to hear him say that for so long. It might have been silly, and preferably you shouldn’t have fallen for him; but if people got to choose how to love life would be too easy.

“It’s not that simple.”

“We can take our time,” he offered. “As much as you need.”

You nodded. “You’ll have to wait until my hand heals.”

“And your face.”

“What’s wrong with my face?”

He laughed softly, “Nothing. It just needs a little healing.”

That it did. You would never tell him it had been your fault; one thing was giving him a chance and other giving him tools to tease you.

“I’ll miss insulting you,” you admitted. “It was like therapy.”

Jason reached for your face, lightly ghosting your cheek with his palm. His touch, featherlike and warm, made you sigh.

“I’ll be offended if you don’t take it out on me in different ways.”

Oh, you would.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x plus size reader #plus size reader #plus size fanfiction #redhood x reader #redhood x plus size reader #jason todd #redhood #dc x reader #dc x plus size reader #batfam x reader #batfam x plus size reader

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psychemeanscure · 4 years ago

Text

PART 18

“Boss!”

He was fresh from a secret gang bust once again that he even got a patch on his face but neither of it matters as he is still happily staring with the last text in his burner phone which only meant for her, his Sung Eunyoung. When Jae eventually comes in huffing for air.

“Yes, what is it this time Jae?”

his mere reply then as he’s attention were kept unmoved, unaware of the urgency his assistant is bringing.

“We have a problem, boss.”

“We always have a problem. Which one?”

He was in the mood, but not when he heard the final breath of the latter and utter the word that concerns him.

“Ms. Sung. I receive a call from Lee and…”

“And what?”

His full attention was in the details now as a stern impatience starts to pond him while vigorously closing the burner phone he’s holding. “She was kidnapped.”

For it was enough for him to look back onto Jae, prying more from what he needed. “Come again?”

“She was taken by several men from a meeting. Lee was trying to chase after them for he thought he can reach out easily but lost them instead.”

‘No.’ The only thought he can think of as he was dumbfounded for a while before jaws tightening for fear, piercing eyes glare in madness. He’s not in his sanity already, he’s just ready to kill anyone who harmed her. “Other than the chase, did he somewhat get a thing that might lead to the abductor?”

“He was able to sneakily knock one of them at least. That might be a help for now.”

‘At least’ he thought. Even without proof he had already a person in mind who’ll do that actually. He just wants to make sure though. “What should we need to do boss?” he was clenching his fist by then, trying to manage his anger. “Call Lee for the location. I’ll do something first, wait for my word by then.”

“As you wish boss.” The simple reply of his assistant then before leaving him behind doors as he hastily calls for her phone after, hoping to get a bit chance of answer coming from her. But nothing, he was only answered by the voicemail instead. “Eunyoung, come on…” for he calls her again and again, a leg moving in a motioning tapping, constant worries keep on rushing yet still, he was left unanswered.

“F*ck this, no!”

Tossing the burner phone out of frustration, calling his assistant with full ferocity. “Jae!”

As it only takes a second for his assistant to appear from the door once again. “Assemble the gang, we are leaving. Now!”

His domineering command then as he was already standing with deafening impatience.

“Give me the details.”

His stone cold urge to his subordinate as it also understood in just a go for his attention never left the subject which already meets his vision the moment they arrived on the abandoned building it instructed. Bruises evident all over the face of the busted underling who’s still unconsciously lying on the ground. Seems Lee has started his job on squeezing some information by it.

“She was out from her last meeting when it happened, boss. I was about to barge in but---“

“But why is that? As far as I know your one of my best, Lee.”

He’s getting irritated indeed that a simple but alerted the urgency of his man. “I can’t, boss. For it seemed that she has been planned all along.” For it was his ears turn to perk up. “Enlighten me?” his strong impulse from the unclear information.

“I just learned that she apparently dealing the director of the Xi industry that time.”

“What the f*ck?”

He’s definitely fuck up, yes for he felt it coming the time he opened it up to her during their wee moment. He was supposed to be guilty himself for secretly following her by the assistance of his man, just to take it back after knowing her selfish agenda instead. “Again, Sung Eunyoung. F*ck! Woman.”

He doesn’t even care what the rest of his subordinates thinking of him right now. He just needed to let it out in a go. Openly cursing her without stops. “What more of it?” forcing himself for another one which he might not expected still.

“More of it, they both witnessed her abduction boss and didn’t do anything other than watching the car she was in. Because aside with the director’s presence, it somehow appears that they also been back-up by a general prosecutor so I had no choice but to follow from afar. I suppose Ms. Sung wasn’t aware of the general’s presence either.”

“Son of a b*tch. I’m not surprise. They probably sense your car and let you lose in an intersection.”

“My apologies, boss.”

The straight answer he’s seeking definitely that the only thing he could do is clench a ball of his fists while piercing eyes needed to close to control an outburst frustration. He was over-informed. He is for he requires himself absorbing every bits of details given. First, he had just learned that he’s been neglected by Sung Eunyoung once again. Then here is another one who he thought a simple sabotage but eventually not like what he expected. Then he recalled her last text to him. ‘Just one more.’ He thought, and if he confirmed it then there will be no turning back.

“Where was she before this meeting?”

“Gyeonggi-do.”

And it did. “F*ck.” His menacing curses became unstoppable once again, yes just as how she had been harmed back then for he crouches to gradually slaps the unconscious underling, pushing it to wake up and succeeded. Meeting its worn-out eyes.

“Oy, shitty minion. You see I’m not usually patient with underlings but I might just grab chances on you. That is if you want to beg for your life either.”

But as what he predicted, he was only responded by its wobbling middle finger while showing a disdainful smile on its bleeding lips. He reciprocated. Insulted laugh crept into bargaining another consideration. The enemy’s minion is truly lucky definitely for it was rare for him to give chances that by just the knowing expressions of his two trusted men looking at each other, they are surprised.

Thus a yelp echoed the four walls of the abandoned building. Pain rejuvenates the face of the underling as its middle finger break by the infamous troubleshooter. A music for his ears, Jang was satisfied. “Minion I’m not even starting, yet you had pond yourself a strike already. Two more and your good to go in hell. So whether you like it or not, better tell me where your f*cking boss take my lady.”

“I won’t tell a soul, su--- A-ahck! F*ck.”

That another yelp came in as he bends more of its bone. “Two.” His serious countdown. “I’m not asking for a song scumbag so f*cking tell me a f*cking shit!”

Then again, the latter went to lean close to his face instead. “Shit my mouth first, sucker.”

And that’s it. He gave up. “Alright. As you wish, useless.” With Lee handing him a gun and a pull of its trigger, the minion faces his farewell. Splatter of blood were on his looks the moment he stands up gazing the slouching position of the kneeling underling, round eyes staring on nowhere, pistol still intact in its bloody mouth.

“Jae!” That a stern call of his assistant is the mere step he could think of.

“Yes, boss.”

“Bring the f*cking Mr. Kim in front of me as well as that lifeless limp both on the underground.”

He gets a ride turning to their next location then while into wiping the splashed blood on his face when he sensed the confusing look of his assistant on the driver seat. “All you do is ask. So ask.” his intuitive guess from the backseat that surely taken the point of Jae who only has to clear a throat ashamedly. “I-I was just thinking, boss. Isn’t it better if we trace the abductor first?”

The blurt out curiosity of his assistant finally as he ominously shifts his eyes through the buzzing streets of the outside. “No need. I already have someone in mind.” As it was enough for Jae to know further, nod and cover another someone to pact instead.

“So Mr. Kim as well as the lifeless underling, boss?”

For it only takes a second for him to show his proud smirk by the rear-view mirror, intentionally conversing the eyes of his man. Envisioning an awestruck idea, he had all along. “Oh. I almost forgot about it.” As if an innocent casual plan he says. “Well, let’s just say…”

“We are joining a game they were playing?”

His last verdict before a sinister smile came back, ready to pawn a dumbass king.

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professional-bts-simp · 5 years ago

Text

Broken

Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Summary: The aftermath of your boyfriend’s betrayal.

Genre: Angst

Warning: Possibly sad

Part 2 of 3

Other parts: part 1

A/N: The angst ending of ‘Saying Goodbye’.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn't know what felt worse, the way Jungkook ripped your heart out or how your best friend wasn't answering his phone. You suppose Jungkook ripping your heart out broke you, but Taehyung not answering finished you off. You thought he'd at least care enough for you after witnessing for himself what your now ex boyfriend said and did.

You couldn't stop the tears rolling or the pathetic, loud wails escaping you every time you took a breath. You leaned against your sofa, moving from kneeling to sitting on the floor. Pulling your knees to your chest you buried your head in them, body shaking with cries. You have no idea how long you sat there, maybe a few minutes, maybe a free hours. You grabbed your phone calling Taehyung one more time, hoping you'd have better luck yet to no avail.

You got up from your sitting spot stumbling a little at the dizziness you felt in your head. Forcing yourself to walk to your bedroom you close the door behind you, walking up to your bed you remove the blanket before getting in, covering your body and crying yourself to sleep.

The next day wasn't any better for you. You tried getting up from bed which proved to be an impossible task, but somehow you formed energy to force your body to get up, walking to the bathroom to do your routine. Walking back to your bed like a zombie you flop down on it, burying your head in the pillows. A ding caught your attention and you took your phone, seeing a text from Tae that filled you with a little bit of hope.

[Tae👌🤤]: Eat

A one word text. You almost scoffed at it, knowing that you both used to send essay long texts to each other, but you were kind of glad he at least sent you something, it felt like he wasn't ignoring you as much as you convinced yourself he was.

Eating turned out to be a complete bust. You weren't even able to finish your sandwich, it making you feel nausea and your stomach to hurt. Leaving the half eaten sandwich on the table you sluggishly walk back to the bedroom, wanting nothing more but to be suffocated among your pillows and blankets falling back into slumber.

Sleeping was another thing that seemed to avoid you, waking up every hour or so, unable to sleep from overthinking and the dreams, or more nightmares, you had. You finally decided to stay up after waking up for the third time, your phone saying it was four in the morning. You tried watching some of your favourite YouTube videos but they did nothing to lift your spirit or your mood, you only watched the screen with a stoic expression.

You put your phone down, getting your earphones and putting on the saddest songs you could find on YouTube, laying on your back staring at the ceiling for a few hours crying and feeling the tears roll down your cheeks to your neck. The sound of your phone going off distracted you from your self deprecating, wincing the moment you heard Jungkook's voice sing, having Euphoria as your ringtone. You pick up your phone seeing Taehyung's name across the screen. You reluctantly answer, heart rate speeding up immediately, hearing Tae's voice at the other end and how it sounded so small and frightened.

"Hey (y/n), how are you?"

You scoff loudly into the phone wiping the tears with the sleeve of the hoodie you've been wearing for the past two days, Jungkook's hoodie might you add. You don't know why there is an awkwardness when he speaks, you usually fell easy into a conversation, feeling comfortable with each other. You suppose dating then getting dumped by one of his members would cause awkwardness between you.

"Not good Taehyung. My whole world is crashing down," you play with the sleeve of the hoodie, nerves high, "could you maybe come over?" You hate how nervous you feel asking Taehyung to come over, but you just couldn't be alone anymore.

He was quiet for several seconds before he spoke again, "I don't think that's a good idea (y/n)." You couldn't describe the wrenching gut feeling you had, but you were sure it wasn't a good one.

"Wh-why not?"

Taehyung took a shaky breath, almost as if he were scared to tell you what's next, "The company doesn't think we should see each other for a while." And suddenly you understood why he was scared to tell you.

A new batch of tears welled up in your eyes, falling faster and faster down your already wet face. You couldn't believe what you were hearing, you lost your boyfriend and now you're going to lose your best friend. This had to be the worst week of your life. Taking a deep breath you steady your phone in your hands, determined not to let Taehyung slip past your fingers like Jungkook did.

"No."

There was a short silence on his end before he spoke again, "What do you mean 'no'? (y/n) this isn't something to debate over."

"I'm not letting you leave me. I can't handle that too." Your voice was a ghost of a whisper but Tae heard it, he heard it loud and clear and hated himself he had to put you through this, alone.

He was quiet once more on the other end and for a second there you thought he might reconsider, might convince the company to at least see you once a week or something, anything. You heard a door open and close and muffled voices on the other end, but then you heard a voice you could distinctly recognise anywhere, "Hyung get off the phone we have practice soon and you know Hobi hyung will kill us if we're late."

Jungkook.

"Who are you talking to anyway?"

"I'm really sorry, cupcake, I hope you can forgive me." Was the last thing Taehyung said to you before he hurriedly ended the call. You threw your phone against the wall, shattering it, how dare he use the nickname you loved more than anything? The old childhood nickname he affectionately gave you was now being run through mud in your mind. You felt angry, you felt sad, but most of all you felt betrayed. You had no one by your side anymore. How were you ever going to get through this?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Looking down at your phone you laughed at the new message that you got. Damn was he always this funny or did you never noticed it? Picking your coffee from the table you press it against your lips, swallowing the sweet taste of your beverage.

"(y/n)? Is that you?"

You almost choke on your drink at his voice. You look up from your phone, the tall figure standing in front of your table, a cup of what you can presume is a very sweet vanilla latte knowing he almost always got that at cafes. You hadn't seen him in about a year, maybe a few months past a year and he still looked the same. Still devilishly handsome.

"Oh my God, Jungkook hi!" You smile up at him greeting him enthusiastically. Oddly you feel okay seeing him, there's a slight pang in your chest but nothing like it was before. He seemed a little thrown off at your greeting yet you decided to brush it off.

"Um how have you been?" He clears his throat, trying to sound normal and relaxed.

"Oh I've been good, great actually, been working hard and got a promotion at work." You hear your phone ding again and look down quickly, letting out a chuckle at another text. Looking back up at Jungkook you quickly saw a dash of confusion on his face before it was replaced by curiosity.

He looked down at your phone before looking back up to your face, "That's awesome, so um, what are you doing here? I mean at the cafe." He pointed a finger at the ground to indicate what he meant. You laughed slightly at that, Jungkook was always a dork. "I actually have a date today so I went here to wait for him." You nodded a few times, licking your lips then smacking them together.

Jungkook followed your action of head nods, his tongue sticking out against his cheek.

"Also I'm sorry to hear what happened with you and Jisoo." You offered him a comforting smile.

He stiffed a little, but kept his composure. "It's alright, these things happen." He looked down at his cup, far more interested in looking at it than looking at you.

"You have your date here?"

You raised an eyebrow at him, wondering why he would even ask you that, "Ah no, actually we're going to the movies," there was a doorbell chime, "and here he is now." You grabbed your purse from the other chair, waving your date over and standing up with your own cup in hand.

"R-RapMon hyung?"

"Jungkook hello. Didn't expect to see you here." Namjoon glanced from him to you, offering you that dimpled smile that gave you all sorts of butterflies. You linked your arm under his, moving closer into his touch while Jungkook still looked puzzled.

"When did this happen?" He swallowed hard, almost as the words physically hurt him to say.

Namjoon and you chuckled at the shared memory, "Well we met in a cafe much like this, half a year after you two…." Namjoon stopped, knowing it was a sore subject, for both of you probably. You started filling in after him, "And after that we just got to talking and hanging out and we clicked." You look up at the taller man, standing on your toes to kiss his cheek lightly, not noticing how Jungkook's face twisted into one of sorrow and pain.

You both excused yourselves, wanting to get to the theater as fast as possible to get good seats. When you and Namjoon left the cafe, Jungkook still stood there, looking at the glass door with a broken expression on his face and a broken heart. Now he understood how you felt a year ago.

Broken.

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the-awkward-outlaw · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! I love your works and I was wondering if you could write something about a new "lost soul" saved by the gang and trying hard to fit in. A reserved female reader who secretly develops feelings for Arthur, knowing well he has no interest in getting involved with anybody. A good ol' heart-wrenching, I-will-pine-from-a-distance-and-suffer-in-silence kind of unrequited love. Ending is up to you (but maybe it's a happy one

This one turned out sweet. Arthur’s the biggest softy. That said, FLUFF AHEAD!

Masterlist

Read on AO3

You look around nervously, not sure you’re entirely in the right place. Everything’s changed so quickly, it’s hard to process. Sure, you’ve heard endless tales of gangs and outlaws, living wild and free, but you never knew the gritty details about any of it. Now here you are, living it.

You ended up here with the Van der Linde gang because your life has a funny habit of putting you in the wrong place at the wrong time. You’d been on the train two days ago, and it got robbed by a gang. As they were busy killing the engineer and the conductor and going through everyone’s possessions, a man you’ve come to know to be named as Arthur rode by and killed the bastards. You sank to your knees in fright, afraid you’d be killed too.

As you sobbed into the grass, your hero dismounted and comforted you. When you explained that you had no home, nowhere to go and nothing to return to, Arthur offered you to come with him. You accepted, of course, you just found yourself incapable of saying no. He put you on the back of his horse and rode down south of Blackwater and into a small hideout called Thieves Landing.

You’ve never been here before, your parents told you as a child to avoid the place as though it had the plague. Everyone south of the Upper Montana knew it was where criminals hid and because of its layout, it was hard for the law to take.

It was here that Arthur told you his gang was hiding out in and that you were welcome to stay until you got your life sorted. An older woman named Grimshaw immediately jumped on you and started barking orders, despite you being completely dumbfounded and confused.

It’s been two days since you were brought in, but you’re not entirely convinced you’re fitting in all that well. The gang’s big with at least twenty members. All of them, even the women, have a track record. The only one who’s as innocent is a child named Jack, but the rest have done something to earn them at least a few days in jail, but most have earned even the noose should they ever get caught.

It’s not a comforting idea exactly, but already you can see how tight-knit they all are. There’s a sense of family here, the likes of which you’ve never had the fortune of experiencing. While in the day, Grimshaw barks and even nips, at night she turns pleasant, making sure everyone gets a plate to eat and singing songs around the campfires.

She’s not the only one to let down their hair at night. Most of everyone does, telling stories about things that have happened or singing songs. You especially liked it last night when a young man named Javier sat down and played his guitar, singing in Spanish. Being from down south yourself, you were used to hearing his native tongue though you understood none of the words. It was still pleasant to hear.

“So, how’s you adjustin’?” asks the young girl next to you as you scrub at a shirt in the wash bin with a rather stubborn spot that doesn’t want to come out. She’s got brown hair and she’s wearing a faded purple dress with a rather pretty necklace.

“I… I think I’m okay. But… Mary-Beth, isn’t it?” you say. She nods. “Can I be honest with you?” She nods again. “I really don’t fit in here. Not because you’re criminals and I’m not, it’s just… I have nothing to offer anyone. I don’t know how to steal, shoot a gun. Hell, I can barely ride a horse.”

“And that’s okay,” Mary-Beth says with a small smile. “You can learn how to do those things. I’m more than happy helpin’ ya, and I bet the other gals will too.”

“Not only that, but we can always use another girl,” Grimshaw snarls, stomping over to you both. “Now get to work, both of ya!” She marches away to go bully Tilly.

“Don’t worry about Ms. Grimshaw,” Mary-Beth says when the woman’s out of earshot. “She likes to act tough, and sometimes she can be a little too forceful, but she does care.”

“That’s to be debated,” says Karen, walking over with a repeater in her hand. She must have just finished with guard duty. “That ol’ bat wouldn’t give a damn if we was all on fire, long as we’re workin’.”

Mary-Beth gives a little giggle, but Karen walks off to go and talk with a red-haired man. Because Thieves Landing is so large, you’re still learning the names of the members of the gang. You’ve kept your ears open though, wanting to learn about these people, see how the other side of society works.

Growing up, you never had many friends, always being very shy. At school, you were bullied a lot for reasons you couldn’t understand. Your parents tried to help you but there was little they could do aside from pulling you out of the school and teaching you themselves. They didn’t know much about math or science though, so they taught you what they knew: how to ranch and garden.

When you were about ten, your father got sick and died. A few weeks later, your mother, who had contracted his illness, died too. You ended up at your uncle’s house, but he was such an abusive, angry drunk you just left one day when you were 15. You’ve been on your own since, jumping from one job to the next. You were between them when you were on that train a couple days back, when Arthur found you.

As you sit and work, you smile as you think of your father. He used to tell you many stories, but your favorites were those about gunslingers and outlaws. Something about them seemed romantic and fantastical, the way they represented the idea of freedom, of never being tied down. You never thought you would be incorporated into a gang of them as an adult.

A few hours later and you hear the somewhat familiar voice of the camp cook Pearson shouting that dinner’s ready. You sigh in relief, knowing that dinner signals the end of the day’s work and you can relax. The past two nights you’ve spent alone on your bedroll, being too shy to mingle, but as you stoop to collect your stew, you wonder if you can muster the courage to change that.

Several of the gang has gathered around a large campfire to talk over dinner. There’s an empty seat, but it’s right next to Arthur Morgan. Sure, he’s the man who brought you here, but you feel especially unimportant next to him. He’s a big guy, much taller than yourself, broad, handsome. The girls told you he’s got a very rough exterior but secretly harbors a heart of gold. However, it wasn’t until you found out he holds some of the greatest weight in camp that made you shy around him.

A hand pats you on the back, making you jump a little. Turning, you see Grimshaw.

“Go on, have a seat, dear. You’ve earned it.”

Unable to say no to her, you walk over and take a hesitant seat next to Arthur, hunching down a little. He doesn’t seem to notice as he’s listening to a man named Hosea tell a story about how he’d nearly been busted for robbing a house during a wake but how he’d managed to act his way out of being caught. It’s a rather funny story and as the others laugh appreciatively, you feel yourself relaxing. That is until Hosea’s story ends and he asks you a pointed question.

“How are you settling in, miss?”

You hate being brought out in the spotlight like this and it doesn’t help that Arthur, sitting so close, turns to look at you, his expression neutral.

“Oh, I’m… I’m doing okay, thank you. Mary-Beth said she can teach me how to rob people, so I’m hoping I won’t be so useless to you anymore soon.”

“No one’s complaining about you being useless,” says a man named John, sharpening his knife on a whetstone. “When you start bein’ as useless as Uncle, then we’ll have a problem.”

“Hey, I work!” complains the man in question.

“Really? When was the last time you lifted a finger ‘round here, ol’ man?” Arthur challenges. The group happily begins to bicker, but you’re grateful as it’s pulled their attention off of you.

As the days pass, you begin to hear people in the gang beginning to talk about a big score. A member named Micah came in to bring the idea of a big river boat to the gang’s leader Dutch. From what you can make of Dutch, he’s a clever, calculating man who cares deeply for his family. Mary-Beth and Tilly told you how he and Hosea took both Arthur and John in as their sons despite not being much older themselves. They formed this gang together and it’s stayed strong.

Ever since Micah brought in the potential job, the gang’s been humming with excitement. It seems to be a very big score and will need a lot of help for it to work. You’d like to volunteer, to contribute something, but you know you’re utterly useless right now. Mary-Beth’s only begun to explain the basics of robbing to you. However, this job sounds like it’s to come with a guaranteed gunfight.

The day for the heist arrives and pretty much every man in the gang goes to do it. A few hours later, they return to Thieves Landing bearing bad news. Somehow the law knew the boat was going to be hit and they met the gang with fierce opposition. Poor Jenny, whom you’d just started to get to know, was shot and so was Davey and John. Dutch and Hosea start shouting for everyone to get packed up as the Pinkertons are in pursuit.

Days go by and Thieves Landing is far behind you and the others. The gang has moved north, still trying to shake the Pinkertons off. Jenny passed away two days ago, but no one has been able to bury her as a massive snowstorm moved in shortly after she passed.

Moral is at an all-time low, yours included. You wouldn’t dream of leaving though, these people have become your close friends and even border on something like a family. Grimshaw tries to encourage everyone to stay positive, but it’s clear she doesn’t feel it much either.

Night falls once again as the wagon train goes along a narrow pass, the horses trudging through the thick snow. The weather has stayed horrible for days, dumping the white powder in great heaps. The Pinkertons haven’t been seen in the past two days. Perhaps this means the gang can finally find somewhere to hide. Dutch sent Arthur out a few hours ago to scout, along with John and Micah.

Arthur returns just as Abigail makes note that Davey is nearly dead. He reports that he found a place to shelter and guides the train there. It’s a small town named Colter according to a small sign by the main trail. The gang moves into the largest building but Abigail says Davey’s passed. Soon after, Dutch and Arthur go out to find what else might be around and they end up bringing back a heartbroken woman named Sadie.

Two days go by and the weather’s hardly let up. You stand outside in the freezing, snowy morning. You just need a break from the others for a while. Even though you enjoy most of them, being cooped up in such tight quarters for so long has worn you out. However, you’re already shivering from the cold under all your layers.

“You doin’ okay? Ya look half frozen,” a voice says from behind. You turn and see Arthur, wrapped up in his big blue coat, his face hidden beneath his hat.

“Yeah. Yeah, just need a break. Been a tough few days.”

“It sure has.” Suddenly a fierce blast of wind whistles down the path and Arthur wraps an arm around you as though to protect you from it. As you lack a hat and your head’s covered only by a thin blanket, you bury your head into his chest. He lets you though, but as soon as the wind dies a little you pull away from him, your face red. You blame it on the cold wind.

However, something changes with your view of Arthur. Sure, you’ve seen him comforting most people in the gang and he’s known for being caring and gentle, interested in all movements in the gang. But you were never a receiver of that care until now. You try denying your feelings, saying you’ve just been isolated for too long.

Nearly a week goes by and you’ve tried keeping distance between yourself and Arthur, believing your feelings will cool down with the space. The weather finally breaks and Hosea suggests camping in a new place he knows in the Heartlands. The gang is moved into action finally and the wagon train moves down to it.

It’s a great relief to finally be surrounded by trees and green rather than white and feel the warm sun instead of cold wind. The new camp spot, Horseshoe Overlook, is beautiful. Immediately you’re set to work by Grimshaw, but when night falls, you’re allowed to rest.

You stand on the edge of camp near the cliff, overlooking the river and the canyon. This place is beautiful. You’ve rarely seen this much moving water, being from the desert. Arthur walks over with two bowls of stew.

“Here, noticed you ain’t eaten yet.” He hands you one and you thank him.

The two of you stand together, eating without speaking for a few moments.

“So, now you been with us a while and seen us at our best and worst,” Arthur says, “what you thinkin’ of doing?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean what you plan on doin’? You gonna stay or you thinkin’ of movin’ on? No one would blame you if you decided to leave.”

“Do you… want me to leave?” you say with a pang.

“No. No, far from it. I think you could easily find a place among us. Seems like you already have too. Pretty much everyone here likes ya.”

You blush a little and look away. “I think I wanna stay. I like it here.”

He smiles a little, his blue eyes shining. You feel a surge of desire to hug him, your heart beating a bit faster. “Well, good. Like I said, think you’ll fit in easy.”

He takes your empty plate and heads off, leaving you alone. You turn and watch him, wanting nothing more than to be with him. Part of you wishes he’d come back to you, but he heads off to sit next to John and Hosea at the campfire. You turn back to watch the sunset, trying to push him out of your mind. It won’t do you any favors.

The next morning, you’re sitting with the other girls doing chores. Mary-Beth turns to you. “So, saw you blushing when Arthur said good mornin’ to you.” She gives you a sly look.

“I… I thought I had to sneeze right when he spoke to me,” you lie.

“It’s okay if you like him,” she says consolingly. “To be honest, I think we all developed a little thing for him in the beginning. I did anyways.”

“I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t,” Tilly says. “But, do yourself a favor, Y/N. Move on from him. I ain’t sayin’ that out of selfishness or cruelty, but Arthur’s unavailable.”

“I didn’t know he had someone,” you say sadly.

“Well, he doesn’t anymore, but he can’t seem to move on from her,” Mary-Beth explains.

As if on queue, Arthur walks out of his tent, reading a letter. Susan walks up to him and they exchange words. You hear the name Mary and Susan tells him she never liked her. He says something to her and then heads out.

“And there he goes, off to see her,” Karen says sourly. “She barely has to say his name and he’ll move mountains to see her.”

Your heart sinks even further. You’d just begun to accept the fact that you have some strong feelings for Arthur, but this is a harsh blow. If he’s still attached to this woman, it means he’s definitely not interested in you. It’d be best if you give him up.

Night comes and Arthur’s returned. Once again, he brings you a plate of food as you stand near the cliff. A long silence passes between the two of you, your mind heavy.

“You okay? Awful quiet,” he says.

“I’m doin’ just fine, Arthur, thank you though,” you say somewhat coldly. You mentally make a note to be a little nicer. It’s not his fault you’ve got a crush on him.

“You sure? If ya need to talk, I’m always willin’ to listen. I want ya to be happy.”

God, why does he have to be so sweet yet so unavailable? It’s incredibly frustrating. You turn to him.

“Well, maybe you can help. Have you ever had real strong feelings for someone? Someone you couldn’t be with because you know they’d never want to be with you, and because they’re hung up on someone else?”

He gives you a curious look. “Who you talkin’ about?” His face falls a bit. “It’s John, ain’t it? You got a thing for him, don’t ya?”

Is that envy in his eyes? “J-John? No, Arthur, I don’t have a thing for John. Sure he’s nice and funny, but he’s not my type. Plus I think Abigail would murder anyone who tried anything with him.”

His face lightens up a bit. “I think you’re right there. Well, I don’t know much about relationships. Pretty useless, in fact.”

You smile up at him. “Well, thought I’d ask.”

“Who is this person?” he asks. “Anyone I know?”

“Definitely. He’s… someone in this gang, but like I said, he’s emotionally unavailable. Besides, I wouldn’t stand a chance with him.”

“Ah, don’t sell yourself short.” He sighs a little. “Well, maybe you just need to walk up to this feller, tell him exactly how you feel.”

“Okay. Arthur, I like you.”

“Exactly. Just like that.” He smiles. “See? It ain’t so hard.”

“No, Arthur, you’re not listening to me,” you say, your face beat red. “I said I like you.”

He blinks and straightens up a bit. He looks shocked. Or maybe that’s anger. Fear stings your stomach and you take a step back.

“I… I’m sorry. I was… just practicing.” You turn to walk away, deciding never to be alone with Arthur again. You can’t blame him for being angry either. You wouldn’t like you if you were him.

“Y/N, wait.” His hand’s on your shoulders. “Did you mean it?”

You look down at your feet. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I didn’t choose to like you, and I’m sorry for it. Not because you’re not a good man,” you say hastily at the look on his face. “What I meant is I’m sorry for… me.”

His eyes soften considerably. “Please don’t apologize. Especially for you bein’ yourself. Can I tell you a secret?” He leans in a little and whispers, “I’ve liked ya since that day up in Colter.”

You blush even deeper. “Me too.”

His arms suddenly slide around you, hot and gentle. Your hands are on his shoulders and he leans down, placing his lips on yours. Something flutters in your chest. It’s like a bird is trapped inside, fighting to get out. They’re slightly chapped, but the moment his lips touch yours, the bird settles and gives a satisfied purr. You lean into the kiss, sighing a little.

“Bout time you two finally did somethin’,” Hosea says, walking past. He gives you both a sly smile. “Dutch and I been gettin’ tired of seeing you two gettin’ all dovey eyed when the other wasn’t looking.”

You laugh and put your forehead onto Arthur’s chest, trying to hide your face as Arthur laughs.

“Sorry, Hosea.”

“Nah, you two kids have fun.” He walks off, chuckling a bit. Arthur looks down at you and smiles.

“You wanna go somewhere a little more private? Try that kiss where we won’t be spied on?”

You bite your lip and smile, nodding. Arthur takes your hand and leads you off into the trees. You pin him to a tree and kiss him hard, pressing your body on his. His arms slide up your back and wind into your hair. As the kiss deepens, you wonder where else this night will go.

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #awkward asks

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chain-unchained · 4 years ago

Text

December 17

The rustic twang of country guitar played over the jukebox in the Saloon. Sundays were far from the busiest days for the establishment, but there was always a handful of regulars that would come by, and someone would always plonk a few coins into the machine. The music was never loud enough to make conversation difficult; it was just there as background ambience.

It was a familiar song to Ashe as he stepped in through the door. By this point he’d visited so many times that he knew just about every track on the old machine. And this was one that he remembered fondly; he would often listen to it with his mother. Before the illness.

“Hey, there you are!”

Emily’s smile was a mile wide as she hastened around the counter to greet him. “It’s been forever since you stopped by.”

“Emily!” The hug they shared was mutual. “Sorry, just—I’ve been so busy.”

“No need to apologize. I’m just happy to see you again.” She held him back at arm’s length to study him with a critical eye. “You doing okay now?”

“Ah—” His cheeks flushed, and he looked anywhere but at her. “Yeah. I’m better. Definitely better.”

The smile was half-forced, half-genuine, and 100% embarrassed. It felt so awkward, having so many people ask him how he was doing these last few days. The same kind of awkwardness as standing there while people sang happy birthday.

“I’m glad to hear that. Don’t start pushing yourself too hard again, okay?” She gave his shoulders a squeeze. “You’ve got people you can talk to.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Good.” With another smile she let him go. “Well then, let me show you to the back. Shane’s waiting for you.”

The blush deepened. “He is? Am I late or something?”

“No no. He just got here early. Right this way.”

She led Ashe through the short swinging saloon doors to the left of the room. His heart began to flutter in his chest; it wasn’t their first date, but… this felt different to the gridball game. He didn’t know what to expect.

They made their way down the hall and to the private dining room. A ‘reserved’ sign hung from the hook in the center of the door, which sat slightly ajar. A different song was playing through the crack; it was softer, melodic.

‘Oh no—was I supposed to dress fancier?’

A nervous thought raced through Ashe’s mind as they drew near. The music sounded almost classical, and he couldn’t help but feel like maybe he should have dressed up a bit more.

“Hey, Emily?”

She stopped and turned back to him. “Yeah?”

“Um, is my outfit okay?”

“Hmm…” She observed him again. “Do a little spin for me.”

He did, the anxiety rising at the unreadable expression on her face. It wasn’t like he’d come here in his farming best— dark-washed bootcut jeans, his lavender turtleneck beneath a white sleeveless vest, his good boots—but the insecurity was there. He couldn’t help but doubt.

After a moment, Emily’s face split into another smile. “Very cute—Shane’s going to go crazy.”

“Really?” Ashe’s face lit up at the praise and prediction both. It was a relief for a worry that he knew was unfounded. “Whew… Thank you~”

“Hey, there’s that sunshine smile! I was getting worried I wouldn’t get to see it before winter ends.”

The private room was small, and quaint, styled much the same as the bar area. Paintings decorated the walls, and one of Emily’s own hand-woven rugs adorned the floor, upon which an aged oak table rested. The music was coming from a smaller radio resting atop a matching end table in the corner; candle wall sconces cast a warm and gentle glow upon the red hues of wood and fabric both.

Shane was already there, of course—and Ashe’s face turned several shades of tomato red as his eyes fell upon him. Though his back was to the door, it was clear that he’d cleaned up for tonight. His hair, which he’d been letting grow out, was freshly washed and styled; he wore a well-fitted, plain dark sweater tucked into new jeans, with a black leather belt. He turned his head in response to the door opening—he’d even gone so far as to shave.

“Hey, you made it…”

His own voice trailed off as his eyes fell on Ashe, and there was a moment of silence as they both just stared at each other, somewhat slack-jawed.

“Wow,” Emily looked between the two of them, “you really are made for each other. I’ll go and grab some menus and some drinks to get you started.”

She traipsed out, shutting the door quietly behind her. Shane cleared his throat, his face nearly as red as Ashe’s at that point.

“You, uh… you look good, chickadee.”

“Th-thanks.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Ashe shyly added, “you do too.”

Shane grinned self-consciously. “Heh, you think so? Kinda feels like my gut’s gonna bust through this sweater…”

Ashe tip-toed closer until he was completely leaning against him, and his voice trailed off. “You look amazing,” the farmer mumbled, his face hidden in the fabric of Shane’s chest. “I can’t handle it.”

That was enough to silence Shane’s self-doubt—or at least keep him from vocalizing it further. “Yoba, you’re too cute.” He took the opportunity to steal both a hug and a kiss from his boyfriend, lingering perhaps a bit longer thank he intended to upon his lips. “So… d’you wanna sit down?”

“Y-Yes, please.”

It was with only minor reluctance that Shane stepped away from him to pull one of the chairs out from the table. He gestured for Ashe to sit, and pushed the chair back into place when he did. All the while, he had to fight to keep his hands from shaking. It had been at least a decade since he’d been on a fancy dinner date like this before, let alone with someone he cared so deeply about. He wanted it to be perfect.

By the time he’d taken his own seat opposite Ashe, Emily had returned with glasses of ice water—lemon slices included—and two menus. “Here you go,” she said with another smile. “Take your time, and press the buzzer when you’re ready to order.”

“Thanks, Emily.”

She dipped back out the door again, and for a moment there was silence as they both skimmed the menu. “Order whatever you want,” Shane said, glancing up to see the conflicted look on Ashe’s face. “Don’t worry about prices. It’s my treat.”

“But—”

“No buts.” He grinned. “I can afford to splurge on my favorite dweeb every now and then.”

Ashe hid his blushing pout behind the menu. It was hard to focus on choosing, because every few seconds he couldn’t help peeking over the top to get another look at Shane.

“… What?” Shane caught him staring. “Did I nick myself when I was shaving or something?”

“N-No no—It’s just—” He hid behind the menu again, face redder than it had been before. “I-I never realized how good you look with long hair. Sorry, I’ll stop.”

Now it was Shane’s turn to become a tomato head. “Bud, you’re gonna give me an ego with all these compliments.” He looked through the menu a bit more. To be honest, he was in the mood for pizza, but he wanted to impress Ashe—

“Would you judge me if I said I wanted pizza?”

He lowered the menu to look at him again. There was a meek sort of grin on the farmer’s face, which he was quick to hide once more behind his own.

“Nevermind, I’ll—pick something else.”

“Actually, I was literally just thinking the same thing.” Shane dropped the menu onto the table. “Do you just wanna order a large and split it?”

“Oh my Yoba, yes please.”

So much for a romantic dinner. Shane’s expectations went out the door, and with them the hesitant awkwardness that hung in the air. It was like they both settled back into their skins, and once the 16-inch pie was on the table they dug in. No forks, no plates, just greasy slices in hand and a couple of paper napkins.

“Ahh, I’m in heaven~” Ashe practically melted into his chair. “Sssooo good…”

“Yeah, it’s been awhile since I had one of his pizzas.” A long strand of cheese stretched out from Shane’s mouth to the slice he’d taken a bite from. The sign of a quality cheese pie. “This cheese didn’t come from Hanako, did it?” He joked.

“I wish it did! She’s still just a baby though. I was kind of thinking I might see about getting a full-grown cow in the meantime—sometimes I worry that she’s lonely, being in that big barn all by herself at night.”

“What about Silva?”

“Oh, well… Silva kind of picks on her a bit. I had Robin build her a stable.”

Shane sighed. “Bugaboo, I’m not gonna lie—that horse scares me.”

“I’m not giving her up.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest that—” even though he really thought that was the best idea, “—I just want you to be extra careful with her. Please.”

The plea made Ashe deflate a bit. He picked up a strand of cheese that had fallen and nibbled on it before answering. “I will. Don’t worry, I haven’t tried to ride her yet. And I still really believe that she wouldn’t ever actually hurt me.”

“I sure hope that’s the case.”

Shane helped himself to another slice, hesitating only briefly in contemplation—it was going to be more calories to burn in the gym later—and taking a bite when he decided it was worth it.

After a minute, Ashe spoke again. “I, uh… I saw Dr. Vance yesterday.”

“Oh, that’s why you were gone. I was wondering.” Shane licked a bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to answer, but how’d it go?”

“It went… good.” The farmer began to gently rock back and forth in his chair. “A lot of talking. It was harder than I thought it would be.”

Shane could see that he was getting nervous. Wiping his hand on one of the napkins, he held it out to Ashe across the table; after a moment, Ashe took hold of it. “Yeah, it can be like that sometimes. But it’ll get better. Might not ever be easy, but better.”

“I hope so.” The warmth of Shane’s hand was comforting, and the rocking ceased after a minute. Ashe even managed to smile as he added, “I’m getting really tired of crying my eyes out already.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s part of the process.”

“Did you cry?”

“Oh yeah. More than I’m comfortable admitting, honestly.” He laughed. “So yeah, don’t feel bad about it. It’s different for everyone, and some of us just gotta cry before we can start moving on.”

“Yeah… I guess so.” Ashe shifted in his seat. “… I know I’m the one who brought it up, but… can we talk about something else?”

“Of course. Uhhh…” A stream of air blew past Shane’s lips as he fished around for a different topic. Of course now of all times he was drawing a blank.

“You still haven’t told me what you want for Christmas.”

Shit, that was the one he was hoping to avoid. “Cos I don’t want anything. I’ve already got all that I could ask for.”

“Shane,” Ashe leaned forward a bit, a very serious expression on his face, “I’m gonna get you something. It might as well be something you actually want.”

“Oh! Shit, that reminds me. Would it be okay if Jas hung out at the farm with you tomorrow?”

Ashe blinked. “Uh—of course. Why?”

“Because me and Marnie are gonna get some shopping done in Zuzu. And both Penny and Jodi are gonna be busy, and I feel bad for all the times they babysit her already. We’ll pay you for it, of course.”

“Oh, nonono you won’t.” He shook his head.

“You sure?”

“Yes I’m sure. Use that money to get Jas an extra present.”

“Bud, believe me, she’s gonna have more presents than she knows what to do with.” Shane wiped his hands on his napkin again and took a sip of lemon water. “What about you? You haven’t told me what you want.”

Ashe went quiet. The truth was, what he wanted more than anything was something that he knew he could never get back. But… well, there was one other thing…

“I just don’t want to be alone. That… That’s all…”

This time Shane gently took hold of both hands. “Who says you will be? The Feast lasts all day, and you can hang out at the ranch with us after. Okay? Don’t even worry about that.”

“I-I’ll try.” Ashe drew a shuddering breath. The emotions had utterly blindsided him, but at least he’d managed to keep from crying… again. But he was going to end up with whiplash with how all over the place his emotions were.

“You know, there’s gonna be a big countdown in Zuzu on New Years’ Eve. Would you feel up to going?”

“… Y-Yeah.” He managed a small smile. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 years ago

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But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 5: Don’t Even Think About It]

Hi y’all! I’m so sorry I’ve been gone for so long...finals and job hunting got the best of me. I will be updating more frequently going forward. As always, thank you so much for reading!! 💜😘

Series summary: You are an overwhelmed and disenchanted nurse in Boston, Massachusetts. Queen is an eccentric British rock band you’ve never heard of. But once your fates intertwine in the summer of 1974, none of your lives will ever be the same...

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, very very very little sexual content.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation @bookandband @queen-crue

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

You’re in the crowd at The Rainbow, although you aren’t sure why; this has already happened.

Freddie is skulking across the fog-draped stage as he belts out the chorus of In The Lap Of The Gods...Revisited, all glistening tan skin and teased hair, a pillar of nimble black leather; John is only a silhouette in the mist. Brian looks like something that’s crawled out of a cocoon: leggy and insect-like, the sleeves of his flowing white blouse like a pair of wings. And Roger...Roger’s in the back, of course—“the hardworking one in the back,” he always says—with a glittery black kimono-like shrug hanging loosely off his bare shoulders. He’s drumming feverishly, sprays of Heineken flying off his floor tom, his forehead and blond hair dripping.

“Whoa, whoa, la la la, whoa...

I can see what you want me to be,

But I'm no fool,

It's in the lap of the gods...”

Somehow, as the fog clears, Roger’s eyes find you in the crowd. He grins in that effervescent, blameless way that he does. And now you know for sure that this is a dream; because there’s no chance Roger could see that far without his glasses.

There’s a banging noise coming from somewhere, but it’s muted, distant, splintered like an echo.

Dream Roger is fading away, dissolving as the lights shade to black on the stage. He disappears, and then Freddie does too, and then Brian, and finally John. The crowd you’re standing in is a sea of churning, indistinguishable faces.

The banging grows louder, closer. You can hear a new voice now.

You swim up from unconsciousness and punch into daylight. You’re laying on your back in bed in a small, rustic hotel room; it takes you a second to remember what the world looks like now. It’s not November at the Rainbow Theater. It’s December 11th, and you’re in Rome.

You sit up in bed and turn towards the door. Whoever is out there is knocking so forcefully that the distressed wood rattles on its hinges.

“Hey, Dorothea Dix, wake up!” Freddie is shouting through the door.

You rub your eyes as your feet touch the cool teak floor. The band flew into Rome late last night, and has one full day to burn before their concert on the 12th. You’d pitched the idea of visiting a few museums, the Colosseum, the Pantheon, the Roman Forum, St. Peter's Basilica, maybe even the Baths of Caracalla or the Temple of Venus and Roma; but it had been difficult to get anyone to commit at 2 a.m. when you were all exhausted and dragging luggage into the modest, quite geriatric hotel. Queen may finally have a Top 20 album in the U.S., but the streets aren’t paved with gold just yet.

“Darling, need I remind you that this was all your idea, you simply must wake up this instant—!”

You swing the door open. Freddie is standing in the hallway in a vivid yellow-and-black jacket and white jeans, tall boots, dark hair huge and curly, folded aviator sunglasses peeking out of his pocket.

“Get ready, bitch,” he says, grinning, then slips the sunglass over his dusky eyes. “All those gorgeous marble blokes with their cocks hanging out aren’t going to ogle themselves.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You start with the ruins, then end up at the National Roman Museum after lunch. Brian and Chrissie meander through the halls of cracked marble goddesses and heroes and piecemeal fractions of bodies, their hands intertwined; Chrissie took a few days off work to meet the band in Rome, and she’s glowing with the thrill of being reunited with Bri. Freddie is contemplating the displays, tapping his chin thoughtfully and chatting as John nods along and sketches in his notebook. There’s a photographer scurrying around snapping photos of the band for some magazine, to the vexation of the museum employees. They scowl from the corners of the rooms, their suits pristine and arms crossed, muttering to each other in Italian.

Roger leaps in front of a hulking statue of Perseus and mimics the pose. “What do you think?” he asks you, wielding an invisible spear. “Am I courageous? Divine? A mirror image?”

“You’ll have to work on the hair. And gain like a hundred pounds.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Pounds?!”

“Whoops. Kilos. A lot of kilos. But I think I like you as you are. Can I see your hands?”

Roger falls out of his pose, smiling. “Yes ma’am.” He presents his palms for inspection. The first weeks had been hell for him as his hands were worked into touring shape, repeatedly blistered and worn raw, iced and treated and bandaged by you each night only to be pummeled all over again the next day. Of course, Roger hadn’t described it that way; he shrugged at the blood and swollen knuckles, his eyes already alight with the promise of future shows. That’s just a casualty of fame, love, he’d told you. I’d take it all again and more. The last of his blisters have healed now into discolored callouses, rough whirlpools of memories from cities like Glasgow and Bristol and Helsinki and Munich. “I can get more pounds too, you know. I’ll be swimming in them. I’m gonna buy you a mansion when we get home.”

“Not so fast, blondie.” You graze your thumbs over his rugged palms and release him. Aside from your annoyingly incessant concern for Roger, your job hasn’t proved to be too taxing: there have been sprains, minor lacerations, severe hangovers, some alcohol poisoning, and one case of syphilis that you identified and sent the unfortunate man to a doctor for, all of which afflicted the roadies rather than the band.

“How’s Jo doing?” Chrissie calls over from where she and Brian are scrutinizing a sculpture of Apollo. She tosses Roger a smirk.

“Fine,” he replies briskly. “It was amicable. She understood. Nothing personal, just with the tour and everything we knew it wasn’t going to work out. Bad timing, that’s all.”

“Hm. That’s not exactly how she described it.”

Roger sighs, irritated. “Well, Chris, I really can’t control what she chooses to tell you, can I?”

“Shhhh. Play nice, love,” Brian coos, massaging Chrissie’s shoulders.

Roger pops a cigarette between his lips and moves to light it. A museum employee rushes over, waving his arms frantically. “Per favore, signore, no smoking near the exhibits—!”

“Oh, right, right. Sorry.” Roger tucks the cigarette away, then turns back to you. “Okay, no mansion then. What’s your fancy? Diamonds and gold? Tigers on leashes?”

“A harem of sensual Italian men?” Freddie suggests. Chrissie bursts out laughing.

“I hope not,” Roger says.

“You know what I really want?” you say, eyeing busts of Hadrian and Nero.

“What?” Chrissie asks.

“A camera. A really good one. To document all of this, our adventures. I mean, I know we have...” You wave towards the magazine photographer, who’s mostly snapping shots of Freddie and Roger. “But it would be nice to have my own photos. Carry them around in my wallet, force strangers to look at them, cover my refrigerator with them, all that sentimental stuff. So the minute you kids start making real money, I’d like a nice Canon. Or a Nikon. Or whatever the best camera is.”

“The Canon F-1 is quite good,” the photographer offers.

“Perfect! Clearly, I know nothing about cameras. And will need a hefty instruction manual. But I’m still excited.”

Roger winks. “I believe in you.”

As you all wander into the next room, Freddie spies a grand piano and sprints to it. He slides onto the bench and begins testing the keys. A distraught museum employee appears instantly.

“Signore, please, this is for the museum staff only, please signore!”

“Oh relax, darling, I won’t break it.” He begins experimenting with some light, jazzish melody.

“I love Rome,” you decide as you stroll past the Aphrodite of Menophantos. “Are you sure we can’t stay here forever?”

John frowns as he shades in whatever he’s drawing in his notebook. “It’s too bad we couldn’t make it to Florence.”

Freddie rolls his eyes from the piano. “Deaky, darling, this Dante’s Inferno obsession has got to go. It’s positively morbid.”

“He ends up in paradise,” John protests wryly.

Freddie snorts. “Yes, well, Florence is a three hour drive each way. Next time perhaps. Once we’ve all got private jets and Nurse Nightingale over there has her posh camera.”

“And we’ve acquired trophy wives to pose with us,” Brian jokes. Chrissie squeals and shoves him good-naturedly.

“We could go to the beach,” John proposes.

“A seaside rendezvous?” you say playfully.

Freddie hums and nods as his fingers fly over black and white keys.

“Signore...” the museum employee begs. The photographer circles Freddie and the piano, snapping picture after picture.

“The beach?!” Roger whines. “It’s too cold for that! We can’t swim, we can’t sunbathe practically naked, what’s the point? And we’re checking out that club tonight. The one by the hotel, what’s it called, Fred? El Fuocolio?”

“Il Fuoco,” Freddie corrects, amused.

“Ah. Forgive me for not keeping up with my Italian.”

“We don’t all listen to opera, you know,” you tease Freddie. He peers over at you thoughtfully, then continues playing. “I’ll go to the beach with you, John.”

He almost drops his notebook and pencil. “Will you?”

“Of course. I’ll have fewer opportunities in my life to see the Italian seaside than get tipsy and evade dodgy men at some bar, most likely. Although I will miss seeing your dancing.”

“Aww!” Now Roger is dejected, his huge blue eyes pleading. “You have to come with us.”

“Next time,” you promise him.

“This time.”

“Next time.”

“Fine.” He points at John. “Don’t let her get eaten by a shark or run off with some Italian playboy.”

John grins. “I’ll do my best.”

Two burly security guards arrive and begin shouting at Freddie in Italian. “Oh fine, fine!” he snaps as he stands and abandons the piano. The museum employee beams triumphantly.

“Fred, I think we’ve tormented them enough,” Brian says.

“Bri, can we go to the beach too?” Chrissie asks. “Please?”

“It’ll be chilly.”

“I have a jacket. And I can borrow yours if necessary.”

Brian chuckles. “Okay. We can go. Ostia’s the closest one, I suppose.”

“You’ll love it,” you tell him. “It’ll be like time travelling. You get to stand on the same shore that the ancient Romans did, bury your feet in the same sand, watch the same sunset. That should appeal to an astrophysicist such as yourself.”

“How poetic,” John muses.

Roger comes to you, shrugs off his black leather jacket, drapes it over your violet sweater.

“Roger, don’t—”

“I’ll miss you,” he interrupts, smiling, then presses his lips fleetingly to your forehead.

~~~~~~~~~~

The four of you take a crowded, decidedly unglamorous bus to Ostia and walk the beaches under the fading afternoon sun. It is chilly by the crashing water, and the wind whips across your cheeks forcefully enough to sting; but none of that stops you. Brian and John collect seashells, and Brian retreads all the details of the tour—all the things he wishes he could do over, all the things he wants to change going forward—as John listens, smoking and nodding when appropriate. You and Chrissie kneel in the cool sand and shape castles with your hands, giggle about how messy and lopsided they are, scribble notes in the soft sifting remnants of stone and quartz: Chrissie loves Bri, Buy Sheer Heart Attack today, Queen was here. And you’re thinking about Roger more than you should be, and Chrissie knows it; but she’s not going to say anything about that now.

When the boys come back, Bri sits in the sand next to Chrissie and begins to decorate her castle with the shells he found: scallops and clams and tulip shells and oysters and tiny lightning whelks. She claps and hugs him, leaps into his lap, pulls him in for a kiss.

“This is terribly unfair,” you say, staring morosely at your now even less impressive sandcastle.

John appears beside you and offers a massive pink conch filled with very small, pristine, glossy shells. You gasp and clasp a palm over your heart.

“Really?!”

“Yeah,” he says, puzzled. “Who do you think I picked them for?”

“You’re the best. The absolute best. A treasure. I owe you my life. Wait...” You pick up a thin shard of driftwood and write into the side of your sandcastle: John Deacon, and then a heart encircling it. “You are officially lord of the sandcastle.”

“A prestigious position, surely,” he says, smiling, then passes you the conch. “Go on.”

As you place the shells, he finds a dried bit of seaweed and impales it on the piece of driftwood, then plants the makeshift flag on the tallest tower of the castle.

Brian glances over and shakes his head, his mess of curls shivering. “Chris, love, I fear we’ve been outdone.” Then he nods to the words you and Chrissie carved with your fingertips. “Leaving letters in the sand?”

“Promotional material,” you quip; but you can tell the wheels in Brian’s magnificent mind are whirling.

As the sun sets over the Mediterranean Sea, golden speckles of light floating disembodied on the waves, the four of you get gelato and browse through bookstores and wander down cobblestone streets. And on the bus ride back to the hotel, Brian points out constellations as you hold the conch shell in your lap and doze against John’s shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~

Brian and Chrissie depart to get dinner when you arrive back at the hotel, taking the rare opportunity for a date night. You try to think of a more romantic destination than Rome. Paris? New York? Venice? Probably none of those. You push the images that flood your thoughts away: candlelit meals with violins serenading in the background, the warm cascading glow of streetlights, tossing coins into fountains older than either London or Boston, gazing over the table and into the ensnaring oceanic eyes of the person who won’t be there. Roger.

“Do you think Roger and Fred are back yet?” you ask John in the lobby. He’s still got his notebook in his jacket pocket, but he won’t let you see it.

“I doubt it, but let’s find out.”

You ride the elevator to the band’s floor, still clutching the conch shell, as John fields ideas for dinner.

“Roger’s going to want pizza and beer, but we might be able to get Freddie to go for something more swanky. Actually, he’ll probably order dessert first. There’s a restaurant down the street that I heard has phenomenal tiramisu and lasagna.”

“Oh god. I would kill for a good lasagna.”

“No need for all that,” John says. “We don’t have enough cash for your bail.”

“If they serve lasagna in prison, you can leave me here.”

“But then who would patch up our debaucherous roadies?!”

You laugh as the elevator lurches to a halt and the doors open. “Just call me up in prison and I can talk you through it—”

You step out and turn down the hallway; then all the air vanishes from your lungs. Roger’s fumbling with his key as he tries to get into his room...and pressed between him and the door is a raven-haired, modelesque woman in a short red dress. His eyes are closed, her tongue darting between his lips, his free hand skating up her bare thigh and beneath her dress. And suddenly you’re being dragged back into the elevator, John’s arms locked around your waist. He hits the button for the lobby then reaches for you uncertainly.

“Are you okay—?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m totally fine, I’m...” But for some reason, your throat is burning and your eyes are blurring with tears. You try to blink them away and they drop down your cheeks like rain.

“You’re not,” he realizes softly.

“Goddammit,” you choke out, sobbing.

“Hey, don’t do that,” John pleads. “Please don’t do that, please don’t cry—”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, this is so stupid...” You fan your face and try to wrangle your breathing. The way he was touching her...I can’t forget the way he was touching her. “I am so stupid.”

“You’re not,” John flares. And when he opens his arms you rush into them, burying your face in his jacket as he pulls you closer, drowning you in his warmth. “You’re not stupid,” he says, quietly but severely. “You’re wicked smart and wonderful and perfect, so you’re not allowed to say anything to the contrary. Alright?”

“Okay,” you whisper. And it occurs to you—as your breathing slows, as your tears subside—how incomparably comfortable this feels, homey even.

John clears his throat. “Hey, not to break this up or anything, but you’re sort of stabbing me with the conch shell.”

Incredibly, you laugh as you back away, swiping at your eyes. “Sorry.”

The elevator doors open, and John leads you out into the lobby. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says. “We’re going to go to that restaurant on the corner and I’m going to order a lasagna—”

“John, I don’t think I can eat anything.”

“Doesn’t matter. Did I say you were going to be forced to eat it at gunpoint? No I did not. I’m going to order a lasagna, and if you want some awesome, and if you don’t we’ll just sit and talk. And you can nibble table bread or drink so much wine you forget today ever happened, whatever you want. You make the rules. But we’re going, and I’m ordering lasagna.”

“Okay,” you reply, sniffling, smiling up at him gratefully.

The restaurant is teeming with tourists, and you end up seated at a tiny table near the back with very dim lighting and a roaring fireplace. It’s deliciously hot, burning away your misery; or, at least, making it feel as if it might belong to someone else, as if maybe you heard about it from a friend or in a song, maybe even dreamed it. You take Roger’s leather jacket off and hang it on the back of your chair. When the waiter arrives, John orders for you.

“One lasagna, the biggest one you have, and extra table bread, and uh...” He skims the menu. “Two red wines and a Coke. And a sparkling water. So the lady has a selection.”

“Si, signore. Grazie.”

When the waiter leaves, John lifts off his jacket too, then unbuttons his shirt to his navel. The sweltering glow of the firelight dances across his pale skin in a way that is mysteriously distracting. “Well, it definitely doesn’t feel like December in here.”

“I’m sorry, maybe they could move us—”

“No, that’s alright, I know you like it. And one should be sweating in Southern Italy, don’t you think?” He tears off a hunk of bread when it arrives and plates it for you. The conch shell lays on the table by the salt and pepper shakers, to the visible confusion of the waiter.

“Thank you. For everything, John. Really.”

He gazes at you with those blue-grey eyes that can look like either clouds or steel depending on the occasion. Tonight they are misty, like the froth over waves, impossibly soft. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he says gently. “I don’t know if that helps at all, but I think it should. It doesn’t mean anything to someone like Roger, what you saw tonight.”

You sigh. “I guess it doesn’t. And I’m sorry, I know it’s ridiculous, I know that, and I’m just so frustrated and...and...I get it, I get that I have no right to care about anything Roger does, which is why I feel like such an idiot for reacting this way, but I just...I just...I’m just so...so fucking torn up about it and I’m sick of being surrounded by it all the time and I’m...I’m so...I’m...look, I’m sorry, can you button your shirt or something? That’s very distracting.”

“Oh, it’s distracting, is it?” John asks, grinning.

“Don’t you dare—”

He undoes several more buttons. “How about now, are you sufficiently distracted?”

“John, no!” you wail, laughing.

“I wouldn’t want to do anything to distract you from your tortured inner monologue...” He removes his shirt entirely and tosses it to the floor. “How are you now?”

“Very distracted,” you wheeze.

“Excellent.” He smiles, resting his face in his hands, the firelight flickering over his bare chest and shoulders, reflections of flames in his eyes. “See, you don’t look so sad now.”

“No, I guess I don’t.” You bite into your hunk of bread. But still, the way he was touching her...

John sips red wine and smirks teasingly. “You know...if you ever get tired of the celibate lifestyle...I’m always game.”

You laugh, shaking your head, and open the Coke bottle. “That’s very much appreciated. But I don’t just want sex.”

“I know,” he replies, solemnly now. “You want him.”

“That’s pretty pathetic, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think you’re pathetic at all.” That seems like it must be a lie, but John sounds genuine.

“You’re my best friend, you know,” you tell him. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Certainly not get treated to authentic Italian lasagna.”

You chuckle. “I’m sure that’s the least of your talents. Veronica is a very lucky woman.”

John nods, staring down at the table now, pushing crumbs around with the back of his hand. “If you say so.”

And, in the end, you managed to eat your half of the lasagna after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

When you get back to your hotel room, it’s very late in Italy...which means it’s only early evening in Boston. You pick up the phone and resolve to use the last of your miniscule weekly allowance for a long distance call.

Your mom answers on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Guess where I am right now.”

“Hopefully on a date with that nice Roger boy.”

“Oh my god, Mom.”

She titters pleasantly. “Tell me, dear. Germany? No, no. Spain.”

“Rome.”

“Oh!” she sighs, steeped in nostalgia. “Daddy and I went there on our honeymoon! Ages ago, of course. But it was wonderful, otherworldly. Like getting lost in a fairytale. How do you like it?”

“I love it,” you murmur. “Mom, can I ask you something?”

“Always, dear.”

You twirl the phone cord around your fingers anxiously. “How did you know that Dad was the one?”

“Hm.” She pauses; and you can envision the way she takes a step back and glances up at the ceiling whenever she’s thinking something over. Oh, maybe I do still miss parts of Boston. “Well...you know Daddy wasn’t single when we met. And neither was I.”

“Yeah, I think I remember that part of the story.”

“I’m not sure if I can explain it, dear. Truly. I...” She drifts off, pondering it. Finally, she says: “I’d had plenty of other boyfriends. I’d been interested in other people. And people are all so different, they all have something unique to offer to your life, whether good or evil. But when I met your father...I just felt like I couldn’t live without him. Suddenly nothing else seemed possible if he wasn’t in the picture. Like if he wasn’t there I’d spend the rest of my life missing him. Does that answer your question?”

“It does, yeah.” You close your eyes and feel the dark Mediterranean night air breeze in through the open window. The conch shell has found a temporary home on top of the antique dresser. “I love you, Mom.”

“Aww, I love you too, honey. And you’ll make the right decision, whatever that is.”

You look out into the constellations that Brian introduced to you earlier, Aries and Fornax and Perseus. “I hope so.”

#queen #queen fic #roger taylor fic #but you can never leave fic #but you can never leave series #but you can never leave #queen fanfic #john deacon fic #roger taylor x reader #john deacon x reader

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doomedandstoned · 4 years ago

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Italian Doomers BRETUS Tell Ghostly Tales on New LP, ‘Magharia’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

Artwork by DamianaMerante

Hailing from the City of the Two Seas, Italian doomers BRETUS return with a new album of ghost stories. Longtimers know that Bretus and Doomed & Stoned practically grew up together. Though the band has been active since the turn of the century, our first exposure came with their debut full-length 'In Onirica' (2012) and subsequently we formed a friendship with the Catanzaro doomers that continues to this very day. It's hard to believe they're already over two decades old (okay, 20 years young, if you like). And what do they have to show for it? A handful of LPs, an EP, and a split with fellow Italianos Black Capricorn.

If you're as much a fan of vintage horror movies, H.P. Lovecraft lore, mysticism, and the occult as Zagarus (vox), Ghenes (guitar), Janos (bass), and Striges (drums), there's a whole world of story and sound awaiting your deep dive into the Bretus catalog. Adding to their already excellent discography, a fifth album now reveals itself: 'Magharia' (2021).

I won't spoil my interview with the band (see below) if I tell you that the album concerns, shall we say, several tales of the supernatural variety. An ominous gong is struck to the backdrop of monastic chant as Magharia opens in epic fashion "Celebration of Gloom," a song characterized by a chugging proto-trash tempo, trve metal stylings, and Gothic vocals appropriate to it's subject. It's a rather grim account of a certain sacrilegious priest and his daliences with young women of the church. As a preacher's kid, I've seen this kind of thing play out a hundred times and can assure you these sweeping romances between clergy and laity never end well. In this case, it winds up with a ghoulish rite and a victim's vengeance.

"In the sky lightning strikes...wicked laments rise from the ground." Welcome to "Cursed Island." True to the spirit of the lyrics, this track really let's it all hang out, with quasi operatic vocals that occasionally erupt in maniacal laughter (reminding me vintage Reagers-era Saint Vitus, with its lusty swagger). And why not? This is after all about the mystery that surrounds one of the most haunted islands on earth.

Thus far, the record's been sporting a pretty up-beat pulse, so surely you're ready for some good old fashion doom? "Moonchild's Scream" concerns a albino girl accused of being possessed by the devil for her appearance. One day, she disappears in the dungeons of a castle and legend has it that her cries can still be heard every five years during the Summer Solstice. Doesn't get more doom than that, folks!

After a brief interlude ("Necropass"), we arrive at my favorite track of Magharia. "Nuraghe" concerns the spirit of a woman judged and condemned for a crime she was innocent of still roams among the ancient stones. Boy, the ancients sure did have a hang-up with free-spirited, independent women, didn't they? The song itself is possessed by the spirit of Pentagram in its biting guitar work and rhythmic attack. Love the riffage on this one! Some of it could have been played out just a little more for my taste, like the all-too-brief Soundgardenesque motif at the two-minute mark. It returns a minute later, again in brief. C'mon Ghenes, let your inner Kim Thayil loose! Maybe we can convince them to improv at this point with a bitchin' guitar solo at their next festival appearance. Then again, perhaps this fits artistically with the song, which speaks of obscure "grim dancing bats" and a ghost that haunts through swift shadows passing over glimmers of light. Once again, Zagrus expressive song style comes through to distinguish this as a gem of the genre. I shall be revisiting it on my personal playlist often.

"Headless Ghost" strikes graceful Goatsnake groove as the yarn is spun about the restless and tormented soul of an ancient Roman warrior who has risen from his place of rest. All he wants is the skull that was looted from his place of burial. Give it back to him! "No one will be spared tonight," the lyrics warn, as the song shifts down to a dire doom dirge as the night unveils a strange moon and the wanderings of a cursed soul, seeking his head and not more. "He is living again in this hell."

"The Bridge of Damnation" is one of the creepiest of the record, said to be about "a bridge, a young boy, and his three torturers." The mood is quite dark, with esoteric atmosphere, reverberating vocalizations, guitar and bass trading off notes. Oh, and did I mention this tale from the crypt involves death and resurrection, as well? The riffmaking and drumming are absolutely on point, as is the singing -- which by now in the record I'm not only am accustomed to, but have grown to admire. Another keeper!

"Sinful Nun" winds and grinds as Zagarus croons about the inner torment of a Sister who has never gotten over her beloved, who died under such unspeakably tragic circumstances that she decided to consecrate herself to God in celibacy. However, her vows are in vain as she still pines for her long lost lover. The verses are sung to the accompaniment of a galloping tempo, which seems to represent the fevered anguish of a soul forever stricken by grief and the haunted memories of lost love. This is juxtaposed in the chorus by a cursed riff that seems to speak as the Hand of Fate itself. "Farewell to this life," are the Sinful Nun's final words.

At last, we reach the album's namesake and though "Magharia" is entirely instrumental, it would be a mistake to assume you know what it's going to do. Around the four-minute mark, I had to check and make sure I was listening to the same album, as dark synth busted out a metronomic rhythm, leading to a declamatory section of keyboards to accompany the math-like guitar play and an improvisation of almost creepy seventies-sounding prog, which after its playful fit dissipates suddenly in a bluesy collapse.

Bretus have cooked up a remarkable horror soundtrack that, though it speaks of ancient lore, is very much a fitting backdrop to the unreality of our own times. Fitting somewhere on the stylistic spectrum between Candlemass and Paul Chain, Reverend Bizarre and Cardinals Folly, Margharia may be the band's finest effort to date. Certainly, it rewards repeated listens, and will haunt you for many years to come. Look for the record to drop this weekend (pre-order here), with multiple physical formats releasing via The Swamp Records (compact disc), Burning Coffin Records (cassette), and Overdrive Records (vinyl). Until then, you can stream it all, right now, right here!

Give ear...

Magharia by BRETUS

An Interview with Bretus

What is the concept behind the new album and what themes do you explore?

Musically the new record is most "in your face" than the previous album. Also our approach to the recording was different. We rehearsed and arranged together more than before. The result is an album more raw to us. It is a concept album born around different italian old ghost tales. Some of these is supposed to be legend or myth, who knows.

When did you write it? Was it during the pandemic lockdowns?

We had more ideas about new stuff long before the pandemia arrived. We spent this time working on the pre-production of the tracks.

Can you give us a track-by-track explanation of each song on the album?

For sure!

"Celebration of Gloom" is a strange song because there are many influences in it. Including a solo flute in the middle of the track. However is a very loud and gloomy song.

"Cursed Island" probably is the most rock 'n' roll song of the album. If you know what I mean. Rock in the attitude. Also the first video of the album.

"Moonchild's Scream" is 100% pure Doom with a heavy mid-section.

"Necropass" is like Caronte travelling the damned souls across the Stige River.

"Nuraghe" is a heavy oriented track with a very dark feeling.

"Headless Ghost" has a more stoner trend than the others and in the end there is a psycho riffing.

"The Bridge of Damnation" includes our '80s dark influences into our sound, probably the most haunted track of the album. The story is based upon an old weird story that happened in our native city, Catanzaro.

"Sinful Nun" is like an experiment and neither of us can explain really what it is... ah ah aha! For sure the most heavy track of all.

Finally "Magharia." You cannot believe it but the idea comes from a Who's album, Quadrophenia. Either of us wrote a part of the song. The result is a kind of horror soundtrack.

Magharia by BRETUS

How do you feel that your basic style or approach to song composition has changed since you first started writing songs in the early days?

You already know a lot of things about us, we know you from so long ago! Please don't ask how old we are. (laughs) Basically our approach is the same from the beginning. Of course we listen to a lot of new stuff during these years so every album brings different "colors."

Where are you most looking forward to playing live once pandemic restrictions are eased?

Everywhere! We are angry for live gigs or simply to drink beers with friends.

Follow The Band

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#D&S Debuts #D&S Interviews #D&S Reviews #Bretus #Catanzaro #Italy #doom #metal #doom metal #horror #occult #stoner rock #HeavyBest2021 #Doomed and Stoned

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akp-1327 · 5 years ago

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random drabbles for ajay bhandari x mc

Just some randomness for these marshmallows!

Find the prompts I used on my first dialogue prompts set, << linked here!

Hope you enjoy these and that you’re doing well! <3

Ajay Bhandari x f!MC (Charlotte Parker)

#6 from Fun & Lighthearted ~ “Spider!”:

The lighting in Charlotte’s dressing room was dim as she hastily got ready for the show. Curtain call was in less than an hour and she still had to run through her lines with Rory and warm up. She frantically pinned up her hair in an sleek, elegant bun and applied her stage makeup.

That was when...when...

“Spider!” Charlotte screamed, nearly falling out of her chair as she jumped away from the huge spider that now relaxed on her vanity. Her hands came to her mouth right as she heard loud knocks chime at her door.

“Charlotte! Charlotte, please let me in!” She heard a voice say. She was too shaken up to move to open the door or comprehend who it was, let alone take her eyes off of the spider and risk it jumping or crawling on her.

“It’s open! J-Just come in!” Charlotte stammered, backing up into the wall. Ajay busted into the room and worriedly searched the room, finally meeting her wide eyes.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Ajay asked with a tone of concern. Charlotte nodded, though pointed to her vanity.

“S...S...Spider...” Charlotte stuttered, her cheeks burning red in embarrassment. Ajay followed her gaze and saw a large spider resting on her makeup bag. He held in a laugh as he looked back at her.

“It’s just a little spider, janu. It won’t hurt you,” Ajay said with a teasing smirk, picking up a nearby paper and dumping a cup full of pencils, “but I guess I’ll save you if it scares you that badly.”

Charlotte put a hand to her chest and let out a breath of relief, her heart still racing. She watched as he gently led the spider onto the paper and covered it with the green cup. “Thank you. You’re my knight in shining armor.”

“Anytime.” Ajay said with the spider safely trapped underneath the cup. He was looking back at her with an amused grin across his features. “Now, finish up with your makeup. You don’t have much time before curtain call and I still want to wish you luck.”

Charlotte giggled and lovingly blew him a kiss, watching him walk out of the room. She then took a deep breath and walked back over to her vanity; her movements a bit more controlled and her eyes darting across the area in front of her every so often to make sure no other little “friends” joined her.

#23 from Fun & Lighthearted ~ “Salsa dancing?”:

Prom night had been everything and more for Charlotte so far; the perfect venue, the perfect dress, and by far the best and most handsome date. Her arm was tightly looped through his and her head rested on his green-sleeved arm as they stood to the side, waiting for a song to slow dance to.

“Want something to drink?” Ajay shouted over the loud music blasting from the speakers. She grinned, though the song changed over to a sultry and upbeat melody before she could finish her response. Charlotte’s grin brightened as an idea came to her head.

“Later,” Charlotte said, dragging Ajay onto the dance floor, “but first we’re going to salsa!”

Charlotte started to sway her hips flirtatiously to the beat, her movements skilled and catching Ajay by surprise. His eyes widened as she moved closer, her pace never slowing. His breath stopped as his heart started to race.

“Salsa dancing?” Ajay asked, his eyebrow arching, “I’ve never...um...”

Charlotte bit her bottom lip and moved away from him, bursting out into several seductive twirls that lifted the skirt of her dress to spin around her, its pink and sparkly fabric flowing in the lamplight of the dance floor.

Ajay couldn’t take his eyes off of her, and he didn’t want to.

“That makes it more exciting! It’ll be fun, Ajay!” Charlotte beamed, moving back towards him and taking his hands in hers. “Trust me, okay?” He gave her a small and bashful smile as they started to dance. She rotated their hands in a circular motion and gestured for him to follow her steps.

“I step forward, you step back. You step forward, I step back! It just keeps going!” Charlotte squealed, grinning from ear to ear as Ajay became more comfortable. Their pace quickened as the music grew into a crescendo.

“You’re really good at this, janu!” Ajay laughed, focusing his eyes on her elated expression.

“You can thank my old dance lessons from cheer that I hated,” Charlotte said, continuing to up their pace, “now let’s add in some twirls!”

Charlotte led Ajay through the side steps that set them up for the twirls. It took him a few tries at first, though once he got a good grip on it, he was twirling Charlotte under his arm all around the dance floor; beaming whenever she’d go on her tip toes, despite her heels, to do the same for him.

Their dance caught the attention of several bystanders and they cleared a large circle for them. Charlotte giggled and leaned in to whisper, “Watch this! Get ready to catch me and then do a dip!”

Ajay’s eyes widened with confusion before she twirled him one last time, then let go of his hands. She broke out into a series of complex twirls and several enticing sways of her hips as she moved around the floor. Somewhere along her journey, someone had given her a rose and she had it clasped in her teeth, giving the (now rambunctious) crowd a dazzling smile.

Ajay’s heart could only swell with love as he watched her glide all around the floor, her smile and enthusiasm making him fall for her all over again.

“Ajay! Ready?” Charlotte shouted at him, the rose in her mouth making it hard for her to speak. Ajay beamed and nodded, preparing himself as she ran toward him. She collided with him, though he smoothly led her through a twirl, pulled her close, and finally, placed a hand at the small of her back. He dipped her with ease; low enough that her blonde hair brushed the wooden floor.

“Yes!” Charlotte gasped, though before she could go any further, Ajay pressed a passionate kiss to her lips, making the crowd go wild with applause and cheers. The rose was now clasped in Ajay’s teeth as he lifted her back up with a wicked grin.

“That was amazing.” Ajay grinned. Charlotte took the rose from him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his once more for a deep and tender kiss, overflowing with love.

“You were amazing! You have moves in that uptight body!” Charlotte cheered, holding him tight. The sultry beat slowly fizzled out into another pop song as they left the dance floor to retrieve the drinks that Ajay had mentioned before their show.

Later into the night, the couple danced once more - slower this time - as stars sparkled above them.

#26 from Sweet & Sappy ~ “Can I just snuggle you forever?”

The Bhandari household was uncharacteristically quiet on a chilly, spring evening; save for a frustrated Ajay and a tired Charlotte laying side by side on the soft carpet in the living room, their textbooks and homework materials scattered around them.

Ajay had turned on a random movie that neither of them recognized to provide background noise as they worked on their homework. They’d both been doing their math assignments for the past hour and a half.

Ajay let out an exasperated sigh as he dropped his pencil onto his textbook and whipped off his glasses.

“How do you enjoy doing this stuff? Math is a literal nightmare.” Ajay groaned, rubbing his eyes. Charlotte hummed and nudged his shoulder with hers.

“I find it fun to solve stuff.” Charlotte said, resting her head on his shoulder. “I also find it fun to help you. What’s the trouble?”

Despite himself, he pointed to a problem in his textbook and gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you, math whiz.”

“Of course, babe.” Charlotte kissed his cheek and handed him his glasses, then took his textbook away to examine it for herself. Ajay rested his chin on his hand as he watched her eyes analyze the problem.

“Oh, you’re doing trig stuff! You actually know how to do this, deep down.” Charlotte said with a laugh, sliding his textbook back over and replacing it with her notebook. She started to scribble the problem down and turn it towards him.

“It makes no sense. What formula am I even supposed to use?” Ajay asked, his eyebrows furrowing. Charlotte smiled softly.

“Tangent,” Charlotte said, pointing at the angle, “you already have the opposite and the adjacent side measurements, see?”

Ajay watched and listened as Charlotte led him through the problem, faintly remembering how to solve the problem from class earlier that day. Once they finished and ended up with the correct degree, Ajay moved his homework away and turned to face her.

“I’m done with that headache for now,” Ajay said, leaning towards her, “take a break with me?”

Charlotte gave him a bright grin. “Sure!”

Ajay stood and held out a hand to help her up. Charlotte gratefully took it and let him lead her over to his couch. He glanced back at her, blushed a bit, then laid down on his side. Charlotte giggled as he patted the area in front of him, gesturing for her to lay in front of him.

“Yes! Cuddles!” Charlotte cheered, laying in front of him. Her back pressed against his chest as his arm loosely draped on her waist.

“Mmm,” Ajay hummed, burying his face in her neck, “I’ve been waiting to do this all day.”

Charlotte bit her lip and eased closer to him, trapping him between her body and the cushions of the couch. He didn’t seem to mind; in fact, he was pulling her even closer.

“Can I just snuggle you forever?” Ajay whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her skin. She closed her eyes and found his hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing tightly.

“I’d be very, very happy if you did.” Charlotte said, her tone exposing her sleepiness. Ajay smiled warmly, thoughts of their hopeful future filling his mind.

“You sound tired, janu.” Ajay said softly. After she didn’t give a response, he peeked over and saw that her eyes were closed and that her expression was peaceful. He beamed, pressing a light kiss to her cheek. “Ah, figures; you’re already asleep.”

Ajay held her tighter against his chest and felt her breaths become deeper and slower the longer she slept. He was extremely, positively sure that she was out before he buried his face into her neck again, feeling all of the stress of the rough day melt away.

“I’m in love with you, Charlotte.” He whispered, mostly to himself, because he hadn’t exactly “told” her yet. Only when she was asleep, walking away, or not paying attention would he dare say those three words. “I love you so, so, so much, janu. I can’t even put it into words.”

Her sleeping figure moved slightly, sending a panic over him, though he relaxed as she let out a little mumble. She tended to mumble all the time in her sleep and it was one of the cutest things Ajay had ever witnessed.

Eventually, the gentle rise and fall of her back against his chest was all he could focus on in his sleepy state. He felt his eyes drift closed as well, the movie’s sounds slowly fading away as he fell into the best sleep he’d had in weeks.

#ajay bhandari #ajay bhandari x mc #ajay x mc #high school story class act #hssca #choices stories you play #fluff #i miss them

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blu-joons · 4 years ago

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Stuck In The Elevator ~ Min Yoongi

You smiled politely at the man who was already stood at the back of the elevator as you stepped in, holding on tightly to your bag. You moved to the other side, looking away from his eyes, letting go of several deep breaths as you tried to keep yourself together.

“What floor do you want?” The voice asked, with his hand hovering over the buttons for the different levels of the building. “I’m going to floor number fifteen if that helps.”

“Twenty,” you muttered back to him, although as you said it, you began to doubt whether that was right after all. “I’m looking for the floor that deals with HR, I don’t suppose you know which floor that is, do you?”

“Don’t worry, floor twenty is spot on, no need to worry.”

Your eyes lit up, “perfect, thank you. Floor twenty for me then please.”

As the elevator doors closed, silence descended upon the two of you as you slowly made your way up, eyes focusing on the numbers as they went up one by one. You were calm as you moved, reaching the tenth floor, you were halfway there, until you felt the lift shake.

Your hands instantly reached back to hold onto the rail, feeling your breath hitch when floor eleven didn’t seem to appear. “Don’t worry, this lift has always been a little bit dodgy.”

“Really? Just a little bit?”

You couldn’t believe how calm the guy was in front of you, leaning back against the cold metal as if a jolt in the lift was something he was used to. You tried to act as calm as he did, but as the light flickered above you, you couldn’t hold back the yelp that escaped from you.

“Alright, so maybe the lift is very dodgy, but I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”

“I have a job interview to get to you,” you informed him, struggling to keep yourself calm. “If I don’t get this job, I’m barely going to have the money to keep on living in Korea.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure that the lift will get moving in a minute,” the man tried to comfort you. “I’m Yoongi by the way, just in case we end up being stuck here for a while.”

Your eyes widened in horror, although you could tell he was trying to joke, it only made your heart worse. “Why would you say that? What part of that is supposed to help me?”

“Sorry, just thought I’d brighten the mood. I’ll press the intercom, see what’s going on.”

You stood back as he pressed the button to reach the reception, flinching when you heard a woman’s voice. You listened on in fear as the woman informed Yoongi that they weren’t too sure what was going on, and that the elevator had never normally stopped for this long before whenever it did malfunction.

As he continued to inform her what was going on, the light flickered once again, as the left side of the bar stayed on, the right side cut out, leaving your side of the elevator in darkness. His eyes instantly looked to you, offering you a soft smile.

“Stay calm, I’m sure they’re getting help to us soon enough,” he comforted.

“Help is no good when my interview is ten minutes. Please, just tell them to hurry.”

The mentions of an engineer coming was the first bit of hope you could hold onto as the woman let Yoongi know they were trying their best. However, as he turned the intercom off, you knew it was just going to be a matter of waiting and hoping for the best.

“Why don’t we do something to distract your mind” Yoongi suggested, taking a seat on the elevator floor. “Unless you’d rather just wait in silence?”

Your head shook, slipping your feet out of your heels so that you could sit down on the floor opposite him, keeping your bag close to your side. You stared across at Yoongi, waiting to hear what suggestion he had to try and pass the time.

“I’m guessing by what you said just now, you’ve not been in Korea long,” he noted, “so why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself and what you’re doing here.”

Your head nodded at his observation, “I moved a couple of months ago as an intern, and then the company went bust. That’s why I’m so desperate for the job, to afford my apartment.”

His heart went out to you as you spoke, clearly luck hadn’t been on your side at all. However, as you spoke about your own struggles, he hated how he couldn’t find himself relating.

“What about you?” You then quizzed, “do you work here, or are you maybe a rival for the job?”

His eyes went wide as he realised the sincerity in your voice, quickly realising that you were clueless as to who he was. His face failed to resemble anything familiar to you, leaving you inquisitive to find out more.

“I work here,” he smiled, not wanting to make too big of a deal out of the situation. “I work as a rapper mainly, working on the music that the company produces, you might’ve heard some of my stuff.”

Your smile grew, intrigued by his role. “If I had better phone battery, I’d suggest putting one of your songs on, but I imagine this place isn’t great for signal.”

“It’s terrible,” he chuckled, making himself more comfortable, “but it’s nice not to have to worry about phones for a while and just enjoy having some proper human interaction.”

The two of you continued to get to know each other whilst you waited for help to arrive. Your mind was far too distracted to even notice that your interview time had gone, too fascinated by Yoongi’s stories which he told. After a short while, you heard banging from above the elevator, followed by the call of a deep voice.

Your eyes instantly looked across to Yoongi, noticing how wide his smile was too. “Seems like help is finally on the way,” he chuckled, standing up and calling back to the voice to let him know that the two of you were safe.

“Please, hurry up and get us out of this thing,” you whispered, standing up too, gripping back onto the bar as you had done previously. “I enjoy your company Yoongi, but not this place.”

“Likewise, if my workplace wasn’t so many floors up, there’s no way that I’d ever use this elevator again,” he laughed, “I just hope that you manage to get the job figured out.”

After a little while of waiting, the doors soon opened, causing you both to flinch at the bright lights that entered from the outside. You bent down to pick up your bag, sliding your heels back on as you stepped out of the elevator.

There was still a couple of floors to go until you reached HR, but more than anything, you were relieved to be on actual ground and get even the smallest of glimpses of outside once again.

Once you were settled, you turned back to Yoongi whose eyes were watching you closely. “I mean it, good luck for the job. The stairs are just around on the corner on the left, explain, and I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, muttering a quick thanks to the engineer before following Yoongi’s instructions, turning to the left where you saw a sign for the staircase up.

As you walked, your eyes were drawn to several photos of artists that the company was home too. Your eyes flickered through most of them, however as you reached the end, one face particularly stood out to you.

You took a couple of steps closer to the post, instantly recognising the face. Your eyes went wide when you realised it was Yoongi looking back at you, unrecognisable from the relaxed figure that you’d just bumped into.

Your eyes looked back in the direction of the lift, noticing him stood in the middle of the corridor, keen to make sure you followed the right way. “This is you?” You called out to him.

“Of course, I’ll explain it all one day. As long as you get the job.”

---

Masterlist

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rogueariadne · 4 years ago

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To Have A Villain’s Quirk

SIXTEEN: WELCOME TO THE TEAM

Song: Neon - Jeff Williams

"Begin!" The whole hoard took off, Kaida waiting for the area to clearing a little more. They never said she couldn't use others as stepping stones.

"And we're off to a racing start! How 'bout some color commentary, Mummy Man?" She heard Present Mic say. She stayed in her spot, waiting for the right moment. She didn't hear a response from anyone until he spoke again. "What should we be paying attention to in the early stages of the race?"

"The doorway." Aizawa's muffled voice came through the speakers, the comment turning the camera's attention to the stuffed hallway.

"Hey, hey, what's this? Class 1-A's own Kaida Hiyama is just sitting there? What's she up to?" The man called out, and she could feel the eyes on her. No, just focus. She grinned as she felt the cold air come from the hallway. That's what she was waiting for. "Nope, never mind! There she goes!" Todoroki froze the entire hallway, so smart. But predictable.

Kaida launched herself forward into the iced over area, using her tails and the frozen students as leverage to slide around them. She grinned as she saw the purple haired boy, who was being carried by a couple of others, and wrapped around him specifically to catch his attention. She gave a wink and salute as she propelled herself away from them all, exiting the hallway with a big smile on her face. 'Are you watching mom, dad?'

Her and a couple of the other 1-A students were busting through the front. Her, Kirishima, Yaoyorozu, Bakugo, and even Aoyama. What would you expect from the top first year hero class? Katsuki and Momo called the half and half boy out while Kaida just laughed. Just what she had expected. Luckily, a few others from the class were catching up. She stopped glancing behind her to see Mineta going to try to take down the leading boy, only to be knocked out of the way. She didn't slow down, taking in the sight that was before them. The robots from the exam! Everyone, even Todoroki, had come to a stop, but she wasn't about to stop going. She passed them all up, grinning at the Todoroki as she turned, pushing two tails to the ground and launching herself up into the air.

"And Miss Hiyama takes no time with these villains! Going head on! What a brave soul!" She simply laughed as she twisted around, seeing the first robot heading to attack. One tail swooped out, latching onto its arm and dodging the swipe at her. She swung around the first villain, using the tails to maneuver herself through them, hearing Todoroki's ice freeze the robots.

"Shit!" She shrieked, letting go of the last robot. She landed just a little behind the other. "Nice trick, Todo!" He didn't spare her a glance as they kept running.

"So, you're still here, huh?"

"It'll take a lot more to take me down."

"That's Todoroki from Class 1-A pulling ahead to an early lead with a devastating display! But it looks like Hiyama is still very close behind! Amazing! They're the ones we should watch, it almost seems unfair! Thoughts?" Mic's voice took over again, Aizawa answering, almost sounding bored.

"His attack was both offensive and defensive. While Hiyama is solely focusing on propelling herself forward and catching up to Todoroki."

"No wonder he was let in on recommendations! He'd never even fought those Robo Infernos before, but they didn't stand a chance against his chart-topping moves! And it's no wonder she's keeping up, she was ranked second place in the entrance exams, just after Bakugo! Now! For those of you who thought the first obstacle was easy. Let's see how ya feel about the second one. If they take a spill, they're out! If they wanna pass this test, they'll have to get creative. It's 'The Fall'!"

The pair stumbled upon the first obstacle first, and Kaida faltered a little. She was staring into the depths of the earth with this patchy area. She shook her head. She just needed to do what she has been doing. Swing. So, that's what she did, using her tails to swing with the wires, easily keeping a hold. She had started to block Present Mic out as she focused, taking deep breaths as she continued to launch herself through the course. "Looks like Todoroki and Hiyama are still skating and swinging by easily!"

Back to running beside the candy cane haired boy, they both looked behind to see Bakugo. At least he's finally fired up. She was afraid he really wasn't going to bring his all. The boy was already screaming out insults at the two and she giggled a bit. He really needed to chill out. They both came to a stop, panting as they realized what the next obstacle was. "Mines?!" How clever, those in the lead were basically at a disadvantage here. She could use her tails as legs. It would give her more of an advantage over the ground. She could see where they're all buried. She kept herself raised above the mines, almost landing on one as the ticking time bomb himself flew past her. She could see the two of them fighting in front of her, making her grin. "Maybe you forgot, Katsu, but I'm still here, too." She teased, catching the both boys by surprise as she used her tails to wrap around the boys. Both of their eyes widened and they reached behind to blast and freeze her.

"Not so fast, Red!" He yelled, grabbing hold of the appendage, blasting it while Todoroki froze the other one. But two more tentacles were replacing them. She was right between them, face to face with the leaders when a loud explosion was heard behind them, making them stop as the area lit up pink.

"Incredible! What just happened? Whatever the case, Class 1-A's Izuku Midoriya is suddenly in hot pursuit for first place!" This exclamation sent the girl into a fit of laughs, watching the boy come flying out of the smoke, straight for them.

"You sneaky kid!" She yelled, raising her hand to shield her face from the wind.

"Strike that! The lead is his!" Just as the boy flew over them, Kaida launched herself from the mines that were behind the trio. "And Hiyama isn't gonna let this set back stop her! Stopping the fight for first place with Todoroki and Bakugo, she's in a rush to catch up to Midoriya! And that plot twist! None of them are fighting anymore. They're ALL chasing Midoriya! That's what having a common enemy will do in this competition! This fight is still far from over, though!"

With the three of them back to being neck and neck, Kaida continued to keep launching herself, ignoring the damage it was doing to her tails. This was taking a lot out of her. She didn't know if she was going to make it too much longer. She could see the boy above her, about to land in front of them, she had to think fast. Changing her trajectory, she launched upwards, knowing it would send her back a bit. But if she didn't she'd be in the blast. Just in time, she was out of the way before Midoriya landed on the two boy's shoulders and slammed the metal in front of them. She shook her head at his recklessness, joining them all back on the ground right behind the boy as she tumbled a little. She could run now, she didn't need to worry about dodging. She just needed to stay in place.

"In a stunning move, Midoriya has blasted past his classmates from 1-A! I don't believe it--he cleared that minefield in an instant! Eraser Head, your students are amazing! What the heck are you teaching them?"

"This has nothing to do with me. Each of them is powered by their own drive to succeed."

"There ya have it! Eraser Head is a terrible teacher."

"I'm what?"

"Who would've imagined at the beginning of this race that the climax would be non-stop mega-mix of surprises?"

Mic's loud voice echoed through the entire area, the sounds mixing in her head with the sounds of her pounding feet and racing heart beat. She could see the light at the end of the hallway, black beginning to form around her vision. No, she couldn't go down just yet, she would be out then. She huffed, blinking slowly while trying to keep her breathing steady.

"The first to make it back into the stadium is the first-place winner! Izuku Midoriya is out champion!" Izu did it.. she was so proud of him. Her quirk deactivated as soon as she was out into the stadium, stumbling as she tried to keep herself upright. Kaida looked around, seeing everyone else come running out of the corridor, realization hitting her. She was fourth place. She was in the top five. She grinned brightly, nearly collapsing as she caught her breath, leaning her hands against her knees.

"The contestants are pouring in one after the other! Let's hear some applause for all our competitors as we prepare the results." Several pairs of feet started to pad over to where the girl was, Kaida sure she was on the brink of getting sick, but she'd pull through.

"Kai~!" Ashido's cheery but out of breath voice woke her from her stupor, the maroonette looking up at the group that approached her.

"Wow, you were what? Fourth place? That's amazing. We're lucky we were in the top forty-two." Jirou said, panting a little as she glanced at the blond beside her, him nodding as he bounded over to Mina and Kaida, leaning against the latter for support.

"How were you able to keep up with all of them.. Is super speed apart of your Quirk?" Kaminari whined, his arm wrapped around her shoulder while Mina leaned against her other side.

"It's no fair, some of us aren't built for that." Kaida giggled a little at the two, doing her best to help support them while trying to support herself.

"The first game for the first-years is finally over, and what a game it was!" Ms. Midnight's voice came through the microphone, drawing everyone's attention. "Now, let's take a quick look at the standings, shall we?" Looking at the screens around the stadium, it started going through the rankings, Kaida seeing her face for the fourth place spot. Poor Aoyama wasn't even in the top forty-two, getting forty-three instead, poor boy. "Only the top forty-two will advance to the next round. But don't be too let down if you didn't make the cut! We've prepared other opportunities for you to shine." She didn't like that look Midnight gave them.. "Now the real fun is about to begin. The chance to fully move yourselves into the limelight! Give it your best!" She cracked the whip as the next game was being picked. "Let's see what we have in store for you next. Will your wildest fantasies come to life? What could it be? The waiting is torture. Prepare yourselves... for this!" A cavalry battle? Dammit, she had never done one of those. How would she even be able to help? She'd need to be apart of a good team..

"Allow me to explain. The participants will form teams of two-to-four people as they see fit. In theory, it's basically the same as a regular playground game. But there is one difference. Each player has been assigned a point value based on the results from the obstacle course." Kaida heard Ochaco and Mina talking about the point system, and it made her think. She was in the top five. She would have one of the highest points, which meant Izuku would have the highest point value. "Now then. The point assignments go up by increments of five, starting from the bottom." The R-rated hero went on to explain the system, before calling out the first place's points. "And the point value assigned to the first place contestant is.. ten million!"

"If you take down his team, you'll win the cavalry game, and take the lead by yourself."

"That's right. It's survival of the fittest, with a chance for those at the bottom to overthrow the top!" Kaida glanced left and right, seeing her point value. A hundred and ninety-five points. Not too shabby, Hiyama. "First years! These are the rules that you'll abide by: The game itself will last fifteen minutes. Individual point values will be added together to reach your team total. Everyone will know how much you're worth thanks to your headbands. Swipe as many headbands as you can to raise your team's score." Kaida raised a fist to her mouth, trying to think as Midnight continued on. If she could get on the right team with the right quirks, they should do just fine. "This is going to be rough. You may use your Quirks as much as you like. But there are still rules! Make a team fall on purpose and I'll slap you with a red card. You'll be disqualified! Now, you've got fifteen minutes to build your teams. I recommend you get started." Everyone began chattering while Kaida was lost in thought. She just needed to be with the right people. But who?

"Red! You're on my team, let's go!" Kaida jerked her head up at the angry blond, who was staring at her expectedly. She saw some other students look her way, one violet eyed boy in particular. She looked back at Katsuki, smiling a little as she waved and turned away.

"Sorry, but I'll have to pass." She could hear him nearly blow up from surprise. She really rejected being on his team? She had someone else in mind. She just needed to get to him.

"Ah, Kaida!" Not again. The girl caught a glimpse at Izuku and Ochaco, waving at her and trying to get her attention. She hesitated for a second, staring at them before looking away and continuing on. 'Sorry, Izu.. you might be my friend, but I want to win just as badly.'

"Hey!" She called out, finally getting close enough to the boy, feeling bad she never did learn his name. The purple haired boy raised a brow at her, turning away from Ojiro and the other male he was in a conversation with. They both actually looked really out of it. "I'm sorry, I never caught your name before. I'm Kaida Hiyama."

"..Hitoshi Shinsou." She watched him shove his hands in his pockets, looking disinterested in the conversation. She needed to sell her reason quick.

"Well, Toshi, I think I'd make a great rear defense. Along with Ojiro. You've seen my quirk, so you know what I'm capable of. Let me join your team." She stared him down a minute, him looking back at her, a small smirk forming on his face.

"You were in fourth place, and you want to join us. Why not that ass you're friends with?" He wouldn't take her over just yet. Maybe she could be useful without him using his quirk.

"Because I want to take him down, too. We're rivals for a reason." He chuckled lightly. A fair answer. So, that meant he didn't need to tell her what to do.

"Okay, sure. Welcome to the team."

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