#there’s no kitchen to walk around in a mosh pit!

[griftermp3]

y’all how am i supposed to just be in the same room as ls dunes. i made a powerpoint presentation for my friend going to the concert w me so she would know some lore and i literally got really flustered halfway through and had to walk around my kitchen to calm down

[starlightkun]

⏯ word count: 16.6k ⏯ warnings: general angst around not knowing what you’re doing with your life, the usual cursing ⏯ genre: fluff, suggestive/steamy but no actual smut, strangers to lovers, band au, punk drummer!sungchan, office worker!reader, not really badboy x good girl trope, more like sungchan has tattoos and reader is… a bit boring and hates her job. but she’s trying!, reader is having a quarter life crisis, ft. shotaro/eunseok/wonbin as sungchan’s bandmates, and nct dream 00 line as reader’s normal friends™ ⏯ author’s note: take a shot every time i say ‘tattoos’ in this fic, and you’ll die of alcohol poisoning! ⏯ sequel ⏯ now playing… quarter life – txt | NEED (ooo-eee) – løren | medicine – woz

“If you really want to do something brand new…” Sungchan took your receipt out of your hand, writing on the back of it with a pen that was on the counter. “Make this your thing for tomorrow.”

“You still haven’t told me what you do.”

“Live a little. And bring some friends, yeah? Don’t want you getting lonely in the mosh pit.”

“Y/N’s hit her quarter-life crisis,” Jaemin announced for you as the two of you joined your other friends at dinner.

You groaned and dropped your head in your hands, already regretting telling him your idea.

“24…” Renjun muttered to himself, then said louder, “Hey, life expectancy of 96, not bad.”

“So what is it?” Donghyuck grinned. “A tattoo? Nipple piercings? I can’t see any hair dye or choppy bangs done with kitchen scissors, so—”

“Don’t give her any ideas.” Jaemin shot him a disapproving look.

“So she doesn’t know what her quarter-life crisis is going to be yet? She’s… planning it out?” Jeno asked skeptically.

“No. She’s decided to do one spontaneous and/or new thing every day,” Jaemin explained your idea to the group.

“Oh. That’s not so bad.”

“So you’re in your manic pixie dream girl era… at 24,” Renjun nodded slowly.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, sitting up straighter as you went to defend yourself. “It’s not a… thing. I’m just tired of feeling like my whole life is filler, okay?”

“Main character syndrome,” Donghyuck declared.

“No, I’m not going to expect the entire world to revolve around me and call random people in public NPCs,” you retorted. “I just want something different in my life, alright? You know I’ve never even gotten drunk?”

“24 is not the time to start,” Renjun stated disapprovingly.

“Exactly, we’re not 19. Can’t get blackout and snap back the next day anymore.” Jaemin shook his head.

Donghyuck looked a bit miffed at Jaemin’s advice. “Speak for yourself.”

“I’ve barely been tipsy,” you pointed out.

“So you’ve always had a prefrontal cortex, unlike us. Congrats,” Jeno shrugged. “I don’t think that’s a bad thing?”

“I’m the boring friend, aren’t I?”

“Boring isn’t bad!” Donghyuck tried to reassure you.

“So I am,” you huffed, dropping your cheek into your palm.

“You’re plenty of fun, Y/N,” Jaemin promised, rubbing your arm soothingly.

“If we didn’t like you, and didn’t have fun with you, we wouldn’t hang out with you,” Jeno pointed out, actually sort of making you feel a little better.

“I’m fun like rotting in bed all day is fun.” You knew you were just pouting now, but you were finding it hard to shake your sullen feeling.

“Exactly!” Donghyuck said brightly.

“Shut up!” Jaemin hissed at him, and you heard a sudden yelp as you imagined that Jaemin had kicked your other friend under the table.

“Y/N, do what you need to do.” Renjun leaned forward across the table. “We’re your friends, so here’s the obligatory: don’t die, don’t get maimed, and if you do something illegal, don’t get arrested.”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you guys. I’m not even doing crazy things. Yesterday I walked home instead of taking the subway,” you informed them glumly.

“That’s new!” Jaemin cheered supportively, squeezing your shoulders.

“Yeah, whatever…”

Clutching your tote bag strap tighter to your body, you turned onto a street, trying to ignore the sun that was getting lower in the sky. Surely this way would lead towards your apartment. You’d lived in this city your whole life, you could walk from your work to your home, two places that you went to every single day.

There was a tall man outside one of the shops on this street, and you went to skirt around him on the sidewalk as he swept a few stray leaves and dirt out of a bookstore. Other than him, the street was fairly quiet, many of the stores having already closed up for the day.

“What are you doing?” The young man called out to you before you could fully pass him by.

You pivoted around on your heel, quickly looking around to see if there was anybody else that he could possibly be talking to. But it was definitely just you and him.

He looked about your age, wearing a cream pink long-sleeve button down presumably as part of the store uniform, though you weren’t sure if he really needed to have it buttoned all the way to the top button. It seemed a bit too warm out for that.

“Walking. Why?”

“This is the fourth time you’ve walked by here.” He did a sweeping point to the sidewalk in front of the shop, then leaned against the broom he had been cleaning with. “Wasn’t sure if you might have a particular destination in mind.”

“Fuck! I knew I was going in circles!”

“You’re lost.”

“Yeah, this isn’t my normal way home…”

“And your phone died?” He cocked his head curiously.

“No, I’m trying to get home without using my phone map,” you admitted, looking around for any familiar landmarks.

“Why? That’s what it’s for.”

“It’s… You’ll think it’s stupid. My friends did.”

He shrugged. “Probably. But why does that matter to you? I’m just some guy.”

“I’ve been doing something new every day. Just small things. But if I change enough little things, then everything will have changed.”

The guy was quiet for a beat, looking altogether unimpressed, then asked, “Where do you live?”

“Uh…”

“General area, see if I can give you directions from here.”

“Oh, uhm, if you can get me to the tea shop on Magnolia, I can get myself home from there.”

“Jade Gardens, I know it,” he nodded, then pointed left down the street, in the same direction that you had just come from. “That way, left onto North Oak, right onto Foxtail, another right onto Broad Street, it’ll eventually dead end into Magnolia, keep going until you see the tea shop.”

“Left onto North Oak, right onto Foxtail, right onto Broad,” you recited. “Got it, thank you!”

“Stay safe.” He waved you off, returning to sweeping without seeing if you had gone the way he’d pointed you.

It was Monday that you got lost and were given directions home by the questionably friendly but overall helpful bookstore worker, and the tea shop on Magnolia had been on your mind since. So on Thursday, you decided to stop by after work. You were running low on the green tea that you usually kept in stock at home, and thought that you might pick up something new for yourself.

Opening the door to Jade Gardens that Thursday, you were enveloped by the familiar aromatic smells wafting around the small shop. When you didn’t hear the usual kind voice of the owner, Mrs. Choi, greeting you, you peered around the aisle that you were in to look for her.

“Mrs. Choi?” You called out, also not hearing her TV show that she usually was watching behind the counter between helping customers. You were by the black teas anyway, so you didn’t mind wandering into the next aisle as you looked for any other sign of life in the shop.

“She’s not in,” a voice that was definitely not Mrs. Choi informed you right as you turned the corner into the beginning of the green teas. You could see enough of the man’s profile to recognize him as he stood by some of the shelves in the store. The worker from the bookstore. He was standing over an open cardboard box, a couple tins of tea in his hands.

“Uhm…” You trailed off, blinking at him as you weren’t sure exactly what to say. He placed the tins on the shelf.

“You think I’m stalking you, don’t you?” He said flatly, turning to show you the name badge on his longsleeve teal shirt. It was metallic gold, with the name SUNGCHAN engraved into it. “I work here too. For the past six months.”

“Oh, right.” You relaxed, flashing him a smile. As he went back to restocking and you went back to looking at the tea on the shelves that he wasn’t currently stocking, you commented lightly, “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I work Tuesdays and Thursdays. You ever been here on a Tuesday or a Thursday?”

“No. I always come on Sundays.”

“There you go.” He had emptied the box of product he was restocking from, and carried it into the back. When he reemerged, he stopped behind the register, but engaged you in conversation again, “So is this your new thing for today? Coming on a Thursday instead of Sunday?”

“Yeah.”

“And? Is your whole life different yet?”

“I’ve only been doing this for two weeks…” You replied defensively, looking over at him from the two kinds of green tea that you were debating between.

“Have you done anything new yet?” Sungchan asked, arching an eyebrow.

“That’s the whole point—”

“From what I know, as some guy who doesn’t even know your name, is that you have walked home from work without using the maps on your phone—something you would have done anyway—and gone to a shop that you go to regularly, just on a different day of the week. Have you done anything that you’ve never done before at all?”

“My name is Y/N, by the way.” You bit the inside of your cheek, and grabbed your tea selection. “Ordering a drink I’ve never tried at my usual boba place doesn’t count, does it?”

“You already know the answer, Y/N.”

“The point isn’t to quit my job and travel the world and completely overhaul my life—”

“I thought it was to change everything?”

“If I change enough little things, then—”

“—everything will have changed.” “—everything will have changed.” The two of you finished at the same time, Sungchan putting more emphasis on ‘everything,’ a pointed look on his face.

“I just don’t get how everything is supposed to change by you coming to a tea shop on a different day one time, but still working the same job you hate,” he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“How do you know I hate my job?!” You retorted, bringing your selections up to the counter.

“If you loved it, you wouldn’t be in a crisis about changing your whole life.”

“Do you like your two jobs?”

“They’re fine.” He shrugged, ringing up your purchases.

You handed him your card. “Fine?”

“They’re just my day jobs.”

“And what’s your night job then?”

A smirk grew on his face as he bagged your tins of tea. “Nah.”

“‘Nah?’” You repeated incredulously.

“You’re not doing anything new. No point telling you.”

“If it’s stand-up, I don’t want to know,” you snorted.

“It’s not stand-up.”

“Mm, I don’t know, you’re giving me real stand-up energy right now,” you snipped, gesturing to his entire demeanor. “I’m really glad you haven’t told me, actually, because I can’t control my face when I’m told bad jokes.”

“I don’t do stand-up comedy,” he reiterated with the same calm, self-assured tone, handing you your bag of tea and receipt.

“Considering you’re refusing to tell me, I’m convinced it’s like, open mic nights. Tight fives, not even a full—”

“Not stand-up,” he said again. “But considering how badly you’re begging me to tell you—”

“Pretty sure you’re the one desperately trying to convince me you don’t do stand-up, but—”

“If you really want to do something brand new…” He took your receipt out of your hand, writing on the back of it with a pen that was on the counter. “Make this your thing for tomorrow.”

You accepted the receipt when he held it back out to you. “You still haven’t told me what you do.”

“Live a little. And bring some friends, yeah? Don’t want you getting lonely in the mosh pit.”

Your eyes scanned the address and time he had scrawled on your receipt. “Mosh pit?”

“We’re going to fucking die,” Donghyuck declared from beside you as soon as your group of friends entered the basement of the building that Sungchan had given you the address to. It was already packed with people, dark, and loud.

“Nobody drink anything!” Jaemin hissed, clutching onto your other arm. “Especially Y/N! Getting drunk is one thing, I don’t want getting roofied to be on your bucket list.”

“It’s not, Jaem,” you retorted. “Trust me.”

“Why the fuck are we here again?” Renjun yelled from behind you over the din of the crowd.

“Y/N met some hot guy—Ow!” Donghyuck had gotten cut off by you stomping on his foot.

“Sorry, it’s so crowded in here!” You glared at him. “I didn’t say anything about what he looked like. I needed something new to do for today, this seemed as good an option as any.”

“Okay, well, what the hell is this? Basement party?” Jeno asked, next to Renjun.

“I think it’s a concert?” You couldn’t see anything over the heads of the other people. “He said something about a mosh pit…”

They all exchanged a look.

“We’re going to fucking die,” Donghyuck repeated.

A roaring started up in the crowd, and you looked around in bewilderment to see what had gotten them all excited. In the far corner of the basement, it looked like a band was getting set up to play, two guitarists, a bassist, but it was the drummer that made you do a double take. You couldn’t be quite sure from the distance, the poor lighting, and the fact that the tank top he was wearing exposed two sleeves of tattoos along rather defined arms that you had never previously seen unclothed, but… that might just be Sungchan.

“We need to get closer,” you declared to your friends, yanking Jaemin along with you.

“What?!” Renjun yelped, following you nevertheless.

“Did you forget the part where he apparently said mosh pit?” Donghyuck scrambled after you.

“At least let Jeno be our human shield!” Jaemin pleaded with you.

“Thanks for volunteering me, Jaemin,” Jeno snorted, but willingly took the role, stepping in front of you to clear a path a bit easier than you had been doing on your own.

The five of you stuck out a bit, you noticed. You hadn’t exactly been given a dress code, nor a description of what to expect, so you did unfortunately stick out like a sore thumb among all the black, leather, and more black. It wasn’t that you were wearing a rainbow so much as you were clearly wearing something… uptight in comparison. Corporate. All you had was work clothes, and stuff to go to work dinners in. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out to something even remotely like this. You’d done your best to dress down without wearing pajamas, but it was obvious that you were out of place.

Finally, you got close enough to the band to be able to make out the drummer’s face. He was looking down, making a final adjustment to his instrument, and when he looked back up, he pushed some of his hair out of his eyes. Definitely Sungchan. So this was his night job. Drummer. For just a second, his gaze flicked over the crowd, and you couldn’t be absolutely sure—after all, it was packed in there—but you swore he saw you for a second, surprise on his features for a moment before a cocky smirk overtook it.

One of the guitarists said something, they all had mics, you were pretty sure he was introducing the band or something, but this close to the speakers, all you could do was feel the words in your chest, not hear them with your ears. And when the music actually started, you felt like it was rearranging your brain matter. The crowd didn’t seem to really know the songs, as nobody sang along, but they were having fun nonetheless, dancing, jumping, and headbanging. As you got on your tiptoes to keep peering over Jeno’s shoulder at Sungchan, you found yourself bouncing along to the beat. Someone must have bumped into Renjun, as he stumbled into your back, and you let out a squeak and latched onto Jeno’s shoulders to avoid losing your balance.

“What is going on back there?” Jeno turned around.

You looked back at Renjun as well, who was now squeezing himself in between you and Donghyuck. Just behind and to the side of you, closer to the middle of the crowd, something was going on. Everyone was moving around a lot more, and… shoving each other?

“Mosh pit,” Renjun shook his head.

You kept your grip on Jeno’s shoulders, using them as leverage to stay on your tiptoes as you watched the performance. They had a lot of passion, you couldn’t deny that. You thought that maybe if you could actually parse out more of the melody and words being sung, you might even like their music.

Then it was over after what felt like less than a handful of songs. One of the guitarists seemed to thank the crowd briefly as Sungchan sat and spun one of his drumsticks mindlessly. And then they were done. The guitarists and bassist took their instruments with them as they disappeared into an adjoining room, and Sungchan stood up and took his sticks.

“They’re done, are we done?” Renjun requested.

“Sure, sure,” you agreed, having satiated your curiosity.

Back on the street, everyone let out a simultaneous breath of relief. Your lungs were happy to be inhaling fresh air again, and the sounds of the city streets at night felt quiet in comparison to that basement.

“My ears are ringing,” Jaemin groaned.

“Mine are bleeding,” Donghyuck scoffed.

“They weren’t that bad, Hyuck,” you rolled your eyes.

“Okay, which one was he?” He pointed an accusing finger at you. “Bookstore-slash-tea shop guy. Which one was he?”

“What?”

“He was in the band, wasn’t he? That’s why he invited you, that’s why you’re not agreeing with me right now. No way you actually liked that noise. So? Which one?”

“You’re annoying.”

“Bet he was the bassist,” Renjun took a crack at guessing. “Totally your type, Y/N.”

“I think it was the frontman, he would’ve been the only one shameless enough to beg for girls to come to their shows,” Jaemin retorted.

“Definitely not the drummer, did you see those tattoos? Our Y/N wouldn’t have gone to some random address that a guy like that gave her,” Jeno snickered.

“I’m not prejudiced, assholes,” you replied, a bit miffed when Jaemin and Renjun nodded their heads in agreement at Jeno’s assessment.

Jaemin gently reassured you, “No, of course not. You just… stick to what you know.”

“Says the four guys who were begging to leave. I thought I was supposed to be the boring friend?”

“There’s a difference between being fun and patently stupid,” Renjun snorted. “Going to a random address that some weird guy gives you falls into the second category.”

“I think it was the drummer,” Donghyuck announced, narrowing his eyes at you. “He invited you, didn’t he, Y/N?”

You poked your tongue against the inside of your cheek. “He was wearing longsleeves…”

“Knew it,” he grinned victoriously. “The other guitarist was blonde. Blondes aren’t your type.”

“So I’m predictable even when I’m trying to be unpredictable?” You groaned.

“Uh-huh.”

“We’re still getting food, right?” Jeno asked hopefully.

“Hell yeah,” Donghyuck threw an arm around your neck and shook you around. “On Y/N!”

You elbowed him in the side. “Yes to food, fuck no I’m not paying for you again Hyuck. Freeload off someone else.”

“It’s not freeloading, it’s compensation, for the damage that your boyfriend’s shitty band did to my eardrums.”

“I don’t even know him, you dick.” You shoved him off you this time, inadvertently directly into Renjun, who complained loudly at being collateral damage. “Sorry, Renjun.”

“Push him off a bridge next time, not into me,” he scoffed, straightening his clothes.

“You’ve got to stop letting him rile you up, Y/N,” Jaemin advised you, looping his arm with yours.

“Says the man who was literally threatening to run him over two days ago.”

On Monday, you walked down the street with a particular destination in mind this time. You pushed the door to the bookstore open, making the bell above it ring lightly. The inside smelled like old books and pine.

“Sorry, we’re actually about to…” Sungchan trailed off when he looked up from the register and spotted you.

“Are you closing? I can go,” you offered, already sheepishly backing up towards the exit again.

“No, you can stay. Just turn the closed sign around and flip the lock for me, will you?” He gestured to the door.

You did so, and took a few hesitant steps further into the shop as he went back to closing out the register. You were admittedly staring at him a little, trying to line up the visage of the tattooed drummer you’d seen at the show with the man in a cream pink button-up in front of you, no visible body art in sight. His hair was nicely parted and styled to show some of his forehead; he could even blend in at your office.

“Wasn’t expecting you to actually show up,” Sungchan said, pushing the drawer of the register closed.

You rolled your eyes. “Do I really seem like that much of a drag?”

“You’re wearing a pantsuit.”

“It’s a blazer and slacks! That’s not—” You looked down at your own clothes, cutting yourself off with a huff. “Point taken. From the man wearing a pink button-up.”

“Uniform.” He indicated to the shop around him generally. “I’d wear the short-sleeve option, but I have to look… how’d Mr. Kang put it? Respectable.”

“Mm, of course. I almost didn’t recognize you without the sleeves and with the… sleeves,” you finished awkwardly, trying not to picture his biceps right in that moment.

He chuckled, sitting down on a stool behind the counter. “So who was the guy?”

It took you a second to follow his leap in conversation, and even then, you didn’t quite stick the landing, only able to explain, “The guys were my friends. You told me to bring some, if you’ll recall.”

“I meant the one that you were hanging onto the whole time.”

“I didn’t realize you were watching me the whole time,” you teased, tilting your head.

“You picked a spot right in front of me. Couldn’t help but notice.”

“Jeno is my friend, as I just said. He’s sturdy, I was trying not to fall over.”

Sungchan looked at his phone. “Have you done your new thing for today?”

“By your standards? No.”

He stood up, grabbing a backpack from the ground to sling over his shoulder and jerked his head towards a narrow hallway behind him. “Come on.”

With the voice of Jaemin nagging you in the back of your mind, you followed him. At the end of the hallway was the back door of the bookstore, which led you into the alleyway between rows of shops. Sungchan locked up behind you, then dropped his bag at his feet and opened it.

“Where are we going?” You questioned.

“Food. You haven’t had dinner, have you?” He replied, starting to unbutton his shirt from the collar.

You failed to come up with an answer as he untucked it and slipped one arm out. “What are you doing?”

“Changing my shirt.” He stared back at you, the button up hanging off of one arm. You could see now that the tattoos extended onto his pecs as well. “Turn around if you want.”

Feeling like you were losing some kind of challenge, you turned your back to him, continuing your previous conversation instead. “No, I haven’t eaten.”

“Neither have I.” The zipper on the bag opened.

“But what if I’ve been to the place before?”

“I don’t think you have.” Zipped back up.

“If you told me the name—”

“Ready,” Sungchan declared, stepping up next to you. He was now in a dark shirt that had the logo of what you were sure was another band on it, and a worn leather jacket with an assortment of patches. He ran his fingers through his hair, intentionally shaking it out of the nice style from before and into a more natural, messy state. He took off down the alley, leaving you to follow after him.

“You’re not going to tell me the name of the place we’re going, are you?” You sighed.

“No.”

“What if I have allergies?”

“Do you?”

“…No.”

Sungchan turned down another street. “You left early. You missed the other bands.”

“Didn’t know there were other bands, and my friends were hungry.” You shrugged, opting not to tell him that your friends hated his music and had been begging you to leave. And that you didn’t put up a fight about going.

“Leaving after four songs to get food. Your friends sound lame.”

“They’re fun,” you immediately went to defend them. “I’m the boring one out of us. They’ve at least actually gotten drunk.”

The two of you had reached a crosswalk with the stop hand lit up. You stopped and pressed the button to wait for it to change. Sungchan paused just long enough to look both ways, then took your elbow in a loose grip and pulled you into the empty crosswalk.

“Let’s go.”

“What are you—”

“There’s nobody coming.” His hand slid down your arm to grab your hand as he walked backwards in front of you, gesturing widely with his other arm. “See? Not the end of the world.”

“I’m going to laugh if you trip over the curb behind you,” you informed him mildly, already eyeing the approaching sidewalk.

“If I fall, I’m taking you down with me.” He grinned.

“And you’ll break my fall.”

“Like in every good rom-com.”

“Are we making bets on if you’ll have a first- or second-degree concussion from hitting your head on the pavement?”

Sungchan turned around then, just in time to step up onto the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. He smiled down at you smugly, and you made a small ‘hmph’ sound in the back of your throat. You noted that he didn’t let go of your hand as you kept walking. You didn’t shake him off.

“How far away is this place?” You checked the time on your phone. “I have work in the morning.”

“Not too far. I can’t be out late either. I have practice tonight.”

“You called the bookstore and the tea shop your day jobs, and the band is your night job…”

“Uh-huh.”

“We didn’t have to pay a cover or anything to get in on Friday. How much does your night job actually pay?”

“That one was for fun. And a twelve-pack,” he answered nonchalantly. “Where we are now, a gig is a gig.”

“They paid you in beer and exposure?” You summarized dryly.

“It was just a friend’s basement, not a real concert venue or anything.”

“Oh, underground. Literally.”

He snorted. “You’re hilarious.”

“I try.”

“Maybe you should do stand-up.”

“No thanks, my day job is paying me just fine.”

He clicked his tongue. “And yet you hate it.”

“Your words, not mine.”

“You’ve yet to tell me otherwise.”

You sighed, but unfortunately, you couldn’t outright disagree with him. The two of you turned onto another street, where you bumped up into the back of a line for a food truck. Sungchan stopped you there, letting go of your hand to reach into his jacket and pull out his wallet.

“You got cash on you?” He asked, flicking through the bills in his wallet.

“No, do I need some?” You only had your phone and your credit cards.

“They’re cash only,” he nodded towards the food truck. “It’s fine, I’ll pay.”

“Sungchan, you don’t have to,” you insisted. “We can just eat somewhere else.”

“My idea, you didn’t know, I’ll pay.” He shook his head. The line moved up then, and he urged you forward with a hand on the small of your back. “Unless you think I’m broke because I don’t have some office job that I hate like you.”

“I didn’t say that! But you did just tell me you recently got paid in beer and exposure.”

“And have two other jobs,” he reminded you.

You didn’t outright accept his offer, but didn’t argue anymore. Getting on your tiptoes, you tried to look for a menu over the other customers in line.

“What do they even have?”

“Changes every week. We’ll find out when we order.”

“What if you don’t like what they’re selling this week?”

“What do I keep telling you? Live a little.”

“Fine.” You dropped back down to flat feet with a sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. “How do you know about this place?”

“Couple of my friends run it, when they’re not playing.”

“They’re in a band too?”

“Uh-huh. That’s why it’s only open once a week. They’re performing or rehearsing every other day.” The line moved up again.

“Why have a food truck then? Food trucks run on narrow margins, they can’t be making enough money to cover their living expenses if they only do it once a week.”

“It’s not their day job. Music is.” He pointed to a piece of paper that was taped onto the side of the truck, the handwriting so faded you could barely make it out. Sungchan told you what it said anyway, “All the profits go to a local women’s shelter. And a lot of their ingredients and other stuff is donations, makes the margins a little less narrow.”

When you looked up at him curiously, he simply added, “The most punk thing you can do is help people.”

The two of you were finally at the front of the line, and a man’s head popped into view at the window. With the t-shirt he had on, you could see the tattoos that seemed to cover every inch of skin from his knuckles to his neck, the ink looking well-settled. He had gauges in his ears, the jewelry a bright rainbow of colors, and you couldn’t even count how many other piercings he had in addition to those. He seemed older than yourself and Sungchan, maybe late thirties or even early forties if you had to guess, a few specks of grey peppering his stubble.

He flashed Sungchan a bright smile as soon as he recognized him, deep crow’s feet around his eyes. “Hey, Sungchan! How are you? Sorry we missed your set Friday, SooSoo was up all night with a fever.”

“Don’t worry about it. Is she feeling better?” Sungchan asked.

“Yep, fever finally broke at like three in the morning Saturday, back to her normal self by Sunday.”

“Good to hear.”

“Anyway, let’s get you some food. I’m sure you didn’t bring your girl all the way out here to hear about my sick baby,” the older man chuckled.

Sungchan just laughed along and put in your orders. When the man turned around to help the other worker, a woman, prepare the food, you looked up at him suspiciously.

“Hm?” He had apparently noticed your look. “Oh, sorry, he was talking about his daughter, Yeonsoo. She’s… oh probably six months old now? Real cute.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Here you go.” The man was back at the window, two paper baskets of food in hand.

Sungchan went to grab a few bills out of his wallet. “How much?”

“On the house.”

“Jay, come on. Seriously, man, how much?”

“I’m serious, no charge tonight.” Jay shook his head. “You’ve never brought a date. So say thank you, don’t keep her waiting, and stop holding up my line.”

Sungchan sighed, stuffing the bills he had already grabbed into the tip jar that was on the counter and taking the food. “Thanks, man.”

“Goodnight, you two!” Jay sent you off with a jovial wave. Before you got too far, you could’ve sworn you heard a woman’s voice ask from inside the truck, “Did you say Sungchan had a date with him?”

The drummer handed you a basket of food as you started a meandering pace down the sidewalk. You took a bite to avoid talking about what just happened, despite the fact that it was very much the only thing you were thinking about.

“Oh, that’s really good,” you said, unable to contain your tone of pleasant surprise.

“I wasn’t going to take you somewhere shit for your new thing,” he replied.

“So if I told you that I had already completed my new thing for today, we would’ve gone somewhere with bad food?”

“Well, no, because I wouldn’t have believed you.”

“Oh, of course,” you scoffed.

“You probably would’ve counted going to see me at the bookstore as your something new, right?”

“I’ve never done that before. I don’t know how that doesn’t count.”

“You have talked to me at the bookstore before. When I gave you directions.”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t on purpose. And I didn’t go into the store, and it wasn’t like, a real conversation.”

“Still doesn’t count.”

“And who assigned you to decide if something counts or not? This is my thing.”

“You’re the one listening to me. I’m just some guy, remember? You could’ve told me to fuck off at any point.” He took a big bite of his food, wiping at the stray crumbs around his mouth with the back of his hand. “So either you’re really easy to peer pressure—which I doubt, considering you’ve never even gotten drunk—or you actually kind of agree with me.”

You were silent, scowling down at your rather delicious food.

“Which is it? Want me to fuck off or am I maybe kinda right?”

“Why do you even care?” You questioned in lieu of an answer. “I’m just someone who you gave directions to one time. Why do you care if I actually change my whole life with my stupid little plan?”

“Who said I care?”

“Then what is all this?”

“I’m not trying to be your life coach, Y/N.” Sungchan shrugged, then his features split into a grin. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t want to be along for the ride.”

You stared down at your feet as you thought about it, about how different Sungchan’s life was from yours just from the brief glimpses you’d gotten of it. Looking back up at him, you nodded. “I could probably use some help brainstorming new things…”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

“Hell no.”

Sungchan grabbed your arm before you could turn and walk away from him completely. When he’d texted you the address to meet at, you thought that surely the online maps listing hadn’t been updated recently, and it was actually a restaurant or concert venue, or any other litany of things. But no, you were in fact standing in front of a tattoo shop with Sungchan, as your something new for today.

“Not for you, not for you,” he quickly reassured you. “I’m getting a new one. Have you ever been in a tattoo shop?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, looking at the darkened windows apprehensively. “No…”

“I promise you’ll make it out alive,” he teased, to which you shot him an unamused glare. “Let’s go.”

Inside was surprisingly quiet. Rock music played over the speakers at a low volume, and there was already one artist set up with a client, the tattoo gun buzzing as she worked on a large piece on their calf. But really, you’d been in libraries that were louder. Sungchan guided you over to the front desk with a hand on your back, the man behind it already standing up to greet him.

“Sungchan, hey!” The guy beamed, reaching out to shake Sungchan’s free hand. He was younger, around your age, maybe a few years older, with a patchwork sleeve of dozens of colorful, bold tattoos along his arms.

“Hey, Johnny,” Sungchan shook his hand. “How are you?”

“Just got back from doing guest slots out of town, so I’m happy to get back in the groove of my usual shop.” Johnny’s twinkling eyes then focused on you. “And who’s this?”

“This is Y/N.” Sungchan seemed to smoothly sidestep mentioning who you were in relation to him. “You don’t mind if she hangs out during my appointment, right? One guest?”

“Not at all.” The artist then picked up a tablet from the counter. “Let me show you what I’ve got drawn up, hm?”

You peered around Sungchan curiously as they went over the design. It was a black and grey circle of flowers, leaves, thorns, and branches all interwoven together. A few birds hovered along the outside of it. In the corner of the canvas that the sketch was on, you could see the reference photos that Johnny had used, of an old porcelain plate that looked like it belonged in your grandmother’s china cabinet, not on a punk drummer's skin.

“It’s great, man. You nailed it,” Sungchan gave his approval.

“And for placement, you said your back, right?”

“Yeah, I was thinking left shoulder blade?” He shook off his jacket, grabbed the collar of his tank top and took it off in one go. Both him and Johnny moved around so Sungchan could see his own back in the full-length mirror propped up on a nearby wall.

“If you fill up the rest of your back in the future, you’ll have an odd hole in the middle of that shoulder from the center of this tattoo,” Johnny pointed out, tracing where the gap would be on Sungchan’s otherwise bare skin with his tablet stylus. “Unless you were to add something in the middle of this design later on. Depending on the size we do now, that might be difficult.”

“That’s a couple options. What else you think? Upper middle?”

“Yeah, centering it will look good, whether or not you fill the rest of your back, and even if you leave the middle of the ring empty,” Johnny agreed.

“Center it is then.”

“How big are you thinking?” Johnny held his hands up parallel to each other at the top of Sungchan’s spine. “This? A little bigger? I wouldn’t go any smaller or you’ll lose detail.”

“Bigger.”

Johnny moved his bottom hand down. “Hm?”

“Yeah, about that much?”

“I’ll print a couple sizes and we’ll see how it looks.”

As Johnny sat back at the desk to print out the stencils, you walked over to Sungchan, keeping your eyes on his face.

“Whose plate is that?” You asked curiously.

“How do you know I didn’t just find it on the internet and like the design?” He tilted his head.

“The cottagecore vibes really don’t match the rest of your work.”

He looked down at his own forearms and laughed. “Okay, fair. It’s my grandmother’s.”

“Hm.” You couldn’t help but smile fondly at the idea.

Johnny returned then with a couple different stencil sizes, and he and Sungchan went back to the mirror. After determining the size of the design, the area was prepped, and the stencil applied. You watched with interest as the design was transferred from the paper to Sungchan’s skin in purple ink.

“Go check that in the mirror,” Johnny instructed.

Sungchan stood back up from where he had laid down for the application, using a second mirror in his hand to look at it closer. He motioned with his head for you to join him. “What do you think? Is it centered?”

You got up from the stool that you had been given to walk over to the mirror as well, standing behind Sungchan to evaluate the placement of the stencil. “Stand up straight. And straighten out your shoulders, you know you slouch?”

Johnny snickered from his seat.

Squinting one eye closed, then the other, you finally gave a short nod. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“That’s the best you can hope for with her, Johnny,” Sungchan joked, returning to the padded table to lay down. “‘Fine.’”

You rolled your eyes, but took your seat on the side opposite from the tattoo artist anyway.

“High praise. Let’s do it,” Johnny grinned.

As Johnny got to work, you watched the first few strokes of his tattoo gun with interest, as the ink was deposited into Sungchan’s skin.

“You have any tattoos, Y/N?” Johnny asked, not looking up from his work.

“No,” you replied. Looking at Sungchan’s face next, which was mostly concealed by his arms and the pillow, he didn’t have any outward expression of pain. “Does it… hurt?”

The both of them chuckled, and you tried not to feel patronized, then Sungchan answered, “You ever been scratched by a cat?”

“Yeah…”

“It’s like that, but worse, and continuously.”

“Doesn’t sound pleasant.”

“It’s worse if you’re by bone,” Johnny added. “Or other sensitive areas.”

“Again, doesn’t sound pleasant.”

“An hour or so of unpleasantness in exchange for a lifetime of a cool tattoo,” Sungchan said in a tone of voice that made you think he would’ve shrugged if it weren’t for the tattoo gun currently on his upper back. “Easy trade-off if you ask me.”

“So how did you two meet?” Johnny’s voice didn’t carry any judgment, if anything he almost sounded amused.

“She came by the bookshop,” Sungchan answered simply. “You know, one of my day jobs.”

“Now that makes sense. No offense, Y/N, but you seem much more like a bookstore and coffee shops kind of girl than a basement mosh pit regular.”

You nodded slowly. “None taken… What you see is what you get with me.”

“Oh, she’s been trying new things,” Sungchan chuckled. “She’s been to a show.”

“And? What’d you think?” Johnny looked up at you eagerly.

You were a bit caught off-guard. Sungchan hadn’t even asked you if you liked his band’s performance. He’d commented on the fact that you’d showed up, who you were with, and that you left without seeing the other bands perform. But he never asked if you liked it.

“It was different for me,” you admitted. “Good different. I had fun.”

“Yeah, they’ve got a lot of heart, don’t they?” You could see the tug of Johnny’s smile at the corner of his mouth.

At the end of the appointment, Sungchan had one new tattoo and you were hungry. After paying Johnny and giving the artist your goodbyes, the two of you stepped back out onto the sidewalk in front of the tattoo parlor. It was dark out already, and you looked up at the moon, just past the streetlamp shining down on you.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Sungchan declared. “Dinner?”

“Sure,” you agreed. “But, I pick. I’ve already done my one new thing for today, and I’m craving fries.”

“Hard to argue with that.”

The place you had in mind was only a few blocks away from Johnny’s tattoo shop. As soon as you walked in, however, you wanted to turn back around. But you were craving fries and had already been spotted. Jeno perked up curiously from behind the counter, giving you a friendly wave. Honestly, you should’ve considered this as a possibility when you brought Sungchan into his place of work. You smiled back as you stepped up to the register.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted you brightly, clearly interested in who you had with you, but not outright asking as his gaze strayed over to Sungchan.

“Hey, Jeno,” you said. “I didn’t realize you were working tonight.”

“Coworker got sick, I picked up a shift,” he explained. “So what can I get you? Your usual?”

“Just the fries and milkshake.” You then pointed to Sungchan with your thumb. “And whatever he wants. I’m paying.”

“Y/N—” Sungchan was clearly about to argue.

“You got it last time. Kind of.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “And they take card here. So order.”

He held his hands up. “Alright, alright.”

Picking a table in the corner as far from the cash register as you could get, you waited for Jeno to call your order number out as usual. Except this time he brought the food right out to your table on a tray. You eyed him suspiciously as he walked over.

“Here’s your food,” he smiled brightly at the both of you, taking the food off the tray to set the individual items in front of you.

“Right, thanks, Jeno,” you said. When he was still standing there after he was done, you looked at him more pointedly, “I’m not tipping you again if that’s what you’re waiting for. Goodbye, Jeno.”

“Enjoy your meal!” He took off back behind the counter.

Sungchan watched him for a moment before turning back to his food. “He was at the show.”

“Yeah, he was.”

“Your sturdy friend.”

“Yup.” You grabbed your first fry.

“The show, that reminds me—” Sungchan stopped in the middle of his sentence, sandwich halfway up to his mouth. “Uh, I think your friend just took a picture of us.”

Your phone buzzed then, and you checked the notification from your lockscreen, letting out a deep sigh. “He definitely did.”

[jeno: attached image]

[jeno: ⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️]

“Hold on, sorry,” you apologized as you unlocked your phone to properly open the message.

As soon as you started typing a scathing text about privacy, another text came through.

[jeno: FUCK WRONG GROUP CHAT]

[you: wtf do you assholes have a gc without me in it??]

You looked over at the register, shooting Jeno a glare as he was very obviously trying not to look at you. His entire face, ears, and neck were visibly pink from the other side of the restaurant.

[jeno: it was to plan your surprise party last year!]

[jaem: Y/N ON A DATE CONFIRMED???????]

[renjunnie: jeno you’re an idiot]

[hyuck: wait jeno take another picture of his face im trying to see smth]

A large group of teenagers entered then, and Jeno had to quickly put his phone away to take their orders.

Sungchan had been quietly eating his food the whole time, and raised an eyebrow as you put your phone down with a groan. “Everything alright?”

“Sorry about that…” You let out another sigh. “So what you were saying? The show?”

“Oh, I’m glad you liked the set.” He looked almost self-conscious as he spoke, a small smile on his face as he ran a hand through his hair. “You hadn’t said anything about whether or not you actually liked the show, so I figured it might not have been your thing, you know? Or, you at least told Johnny you liked it…”

“You didn’t ask.”

“Didn’t want to seem like I was fishing for compliments.”

“I had fun,” you assured him, grabbing another fry. “I’m still surprised you could even see me. It was packed in there.”

“You were easy to spot,” he teased.

“You didn’t exactly give me a dress code.”

“If I did, would you have been able to dress for it?”

You pursed your lips as you thought for a moment, then relented, “…No.”

He shrugged off his jacket and offered you the garment. “Here, so you’ll blend in better next time.”

You accepted it, already giddy at the idea of a ‘next time.’ “Then how will you spot me?”

“I think I’ll manage.”

[jeno: attached image]

[jeno: no need to see his face, hyuck. its definitely the drummer from the basement]

[hyuck: fuckin knew it]

[jaem: are we SURE those are the same tattoos?? maybe y/n knows another guy with sleeves???]

[renjunnie: still the same gc, dumbasses]

[you: jeno don’t be a weirdo challenge FAILED]

[jeno: definitely the same guy, jaemin]

[you: im gonna get you fired lee jeno]

[jeno: my rent :( ]

[hyuck: y/n out here trying to SILENCE independent investigative journalists and whistleblowers i see 🫵]

[you: OR i was trying to eat in peace and meanwhile you guys are having your weekly ‘being the most obnoxious guy ever’ competition and somehow jeno is winning this time]

[jeno: :(( ]

[jaem: you were on a DATE with drummer guy and didnt tell us???]

[you: omfg because it wasn’t a date? im allowed to hang out with people who aren’t you four]

[jaem: no youre not?]

[hyuck: since when?]

[renjunnie: and since when do you know people who aren’t us lmao]

[you: im gonna block all of you]

[jeno: :'( ]

Thursday night and you were back in the basement. This time you didn’t bring any of your friends, not wanting to subject them to an experience that they clearly hadn’t enjoyed last time, and also to save yourself from having to explain why exactly you were back in the basement again and wearing Sungchan’s leather jacket. Due to the oppressive body heat around you, you just had it draped over your shoulders, but made sure to grab either side and hold it tight to not lose it as you maneuvered through the crowd. You unfortunately barely had time to run home and grab the jacket on your way here, as your boss kept your whole team late after hours today working on an urgent deadline. You were still wearing your work clothes; you didn’t trust yourself to change quickly without freaking out over what to wear and ending up missing Sungchan’s short set.

Just as you had wormed your way into a good enough spot towards the front and near the drumset, the band walked out from the adjoining room, waving to everyone. It was easy to spot Sungchan, not only because he was the tallest, but because he wasn’t even wearing a shirt this time, as opposed to the others, who were all wearing a tank top or t-shirt of some sort. His gaze was very clearly searching the crowd for something, and stopped as soon as it landed on you. You gave him a small wave, and he smiled back as he headed to his spot.

You weren’t sure if they had set up the speakers differently this time, if your ears were just used to the volume now, or if you were positioned better than before, but you could actually understand what the frontman was saying as he introduced the band.

“Hey! How is everyone?” His voice was cheerful, and you couldn’t help but laugh as the crowd cheered back. “First, uh, big thanks as always to our buddy Anton for having us. Second, if you don’t know us, that’s fine, nobody does.”

Everyone let out a unanimous round of chuckles, and the frontman was smiling too.

“Anyway, we are Roses for Eyes. I’m Shotaro, that’s Wonbin—” He pointed to the other guitarist, then the bassist, “—That’s Eunseok over there—” and finally Sungchan, “—And we’ve got Sungchan on the drums. And we’re supposed to be performing for you guys, not reading you our non-existent Wikipedia page. Here’s the first one, ‘Lonely as Mars,’ hope you all like it.”

From the first kick of the bass drum, you couldn’t take your eyes off Sungchan. The music reverberated through your chest, and this time you could hear their voices, and the words they were singing. They were good, you decided, and you liked it. But your focus never left the drummer. He had the same relaxed, easy-going smirk on his face as the last time he played, arms flexing with each hit of his sticks.

The set simultaneously felt like ten years and ten seconds. It was a blur, and before you knew it, Shotaro was once again speaking into the mic to give the crowd another thank you and goodnight. He, Eunseok, and Wonbin took their instruments with them. Sungchan tucked his drumsticks into the back pocket of his jeans as he stood up and followed his bandmates. With no friends urging you to leave, and what certainly seemed like an infinitely long list of reasons to stick around, you stayed put exactly where you were. Exactly where Sungchan knew you were.

The next band had just come out when you felt a hand grab your arm. Turning around, you knew who exactly that hand would belong to. Sungchan had found a shirt somewhere between performing and now, a tank top that didn’t cover much more than before. And despite him having just been performing a few moments ago, nobody in the crowd seemed to notice him, all their focus on the next act.

“You did good!” You had to shout over the music of the band currently performing.

He bent down to talk right into your ear. “It’s loud over here.”

You let him guide you to a corner further back from the crowd with an arm around your shoulders. There were a few other people back there, either smoking, making out, or both. You rested your back against the wall, looking up at Sungchan, who leaned over you with his hand on the wall next to your head. You opened your mouth, about to repeat what you had said out on the floor.

“Fuck, you look so hot in my jacket,” Sungchan groaned, sufficiently wiping all previous trains of thought from your brain. His fingers messed with the zipper teeth of one side, eyes scanning your whole frame.

“I feel a bit silly wearing it with the pantsuit, but I got hung up at work and didn’t want to be late…” You trailed off, noticing that his gaze was definitely now on your mouth. Tilting your head, you asked teasingly, “Sungchan, are you flirting with me?”

“Have been for like three weeks now, thanks for noticing.”

“Unfortunately, we can’t count this as my something new. I’ve been to one of your sets before, at this exact basement,” you sighed wistfully, latching onto his free arm and pulling him even closer to you.

“Mm, good point.” His hand grabbed your waist. “I think we can come up with something to do tonight that you haven’t done before.”

“I think I’ve got one.”

“Oh, here I thought I was the ideas guy?”

You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pulling his mouth down to yours. Sungchan let out another low sound against your lips, grip on your waist tightening as he pushed you back into the wall as hard as you were pulling him down with you. He dropped from leaning on his hand to his forearm, caging you in closer. Your hand that wasn’t tangled in his hair was shamelessly feeling up the muscles of his arm and shoulder. When he softly sank his teeth into your bottom lip, you couldn’t help but dig your fingernails into his tricep in surprise, pushing your hips up against his insistently.

“Fuck, Sungchan,” you panted against his mouth when he pulled back for a brief moment of air, his thigh now wedged between yours.

“God, you’re so—” He pressed his lips to yours again, hand at the small of your back to pull you as close to him as possible. If you thought you were warm before packed in the crowd, you were in a stifling heat now, pinned between Sungchan’s body and the wall. He broke the kiss, asking between deep breaths, “Can—Can I take you home?”

“What about the other bands?” You giggled, lips ghosting over his as you spoke.

“Fuck the other bands,” he replied immediately. “As soon I saw you out in the crowd wearing my jacket, could barely focus on the set because you looked so good.”

“Yes, Sungchan.” You kissed him again. “You can take me home.”

As soon as Sungchan’s front door was shut, he had you pressed up against it again. You pulled at his flimsy tank top as his tongue slipped past your lips. Finally, he gave in to your persistent hands and let you pull it off him.

“Honestly, don’t even know why you bother with shirts at this point,” you scoffed, throwing it off towards the side somewhere.

“With how much I’ve spent on tattoos? I agree,” he chuckled, cupping your cheek to pull your mouth to his again.

Still attached to each other, you’d only succeeded at getting Sungchan’s belt unbuckled by the time you made it to his bedroom. Before you could unbutton his pants, however, he stepped back from you, familiar teasing glint in his eyes.

“Well this isn’t very fair, don’t you think?” He gestured between his half-dressed state and your fully dressed self.

“I thought you liked me in your jacket?” You taunted, wrapping the garment tighter around yourself.

“Which is why you’ve got to let me take it off you.” He put his hands together in a pleading motion. “And the pantsuit…”

“Mm, alright.” You dropped your hands from the jacket.

He circled behind you, hovering close to remove his leather jacket from your shoulders, pressing kisses to your neck as he did so. With him no longer blocking the rest of his bedroom from your view, you couldn’t help but be a little surprised at the presence of one thing.

“You know, I was mentally prepared for you to not have a bedframe,” you commented as he took off your blazer next.

“You got mattress-on-the-ground vibes from me and still came home with me?” Sungchan asked incredulously, letting out a breathy laugh. His deft fingers started unbuttoning your blouse next. “I think I’m flattered? And you’ve got to raise your standards.”

You turned around to face him, feeling the smirk on your face as you replied, “Let’s see how high we can raise those standards, hm?”

“Is that a challenge or what?” Sungchan laughed again, wasting no time in attaching his lips and teeth to your neck, dropping your blouse off your shoulders and to the floor.

When the garish blaring of your work alarm came, you reached over to the right to blindly grab your phone off your nightstand. Instead, your hand hit what felt like someone’s face, and you jolted up in bed as they did as well, already swearing.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Sungchan was holding his eye. “What the hell was that for? That’s not my alarm.”

Blinking a couple times to orient yourself first, you then jerked over to grab your phone off the floor on your left side. Sungchan may have had a bedframe, but he did only have one nightstand. You quickly turned off your alarm and fell back onto the mattress. You weren’t going to be able to go back to sleep, having been sufficiently scared awake, but you needed a second to catch your breath.

“Work alarm…” You explained belatedly, in case that wasn’t apparent.

Sungchan made a grunt of acknowledgement, dropping his hand from his face as he laid back down as well. He rolled over towards you, slinging an arm around your waist and burying his face in your shoulder. You stared up at his ceiling, feeling his warm breaths washing over the skin of your arm.

“Mars isn’t lonely,” you blurted out into his still-dark room.

“What?” He mumbled into your shoulder.

“It’s got two moons.”

Sungchan shifted around, propping his head up with his other hand to be able to talk. “Yes… Phobos and Deimos. Named for the Greek gods of fear and dread, respectively.”

“So to be lonely as Mars… with fear and dread as your only companions.”

“That was the idea, when we wrote it.” He brushed hair back from your face. “Don’t tell me the title of one of our songs kept you up all night.”

“No, was just kind of in the back of my mind.” You felt a sudden prickling along your skin as his hand fell to your arm, fingers playing with the sleeve hem of the t-shirt you were wearing—his. Sitting up out of his grasp, you pushed the covers off of you. “I have to get ready for work.”

Sungchan wordlessly watched you gather up your clothes from the floor and get dressed. When you went into the adjoining bathroom to check the tuck of your shirt into your pants and make other adjustments, he followed, leaning in the doorway with a troubled look on his face.

“Am I just something new, Y/N?” He asked bluntly, arms crossed over his chest.

“Am I just entertainment?” You immediately fired back, trying to smooth out a wrinkle that your blouse had acquired from sitting crumpled on the floor all night.

“What? Why would you think that?” He seemed genuinely confused.

“‘I don’t care. I just want to be along for the ride.’” You paraphrased what he said when he agreed to help you with your plan. “Am I just entertainment?”

His features softened. “No, you’re not entertainment.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, shoulders falling as they lost the tension they’d just held. “No, Sungchan, you’re not just something new.”

He walked over to you with a wide grin on his face, cupping your cheek and pressing his lips to yours. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss too, giving him one more peck before turning back to fixing your attire in the mirror. There was nothing you could do right now about the wrinkles, but you could at least attempt something with your hair.

Sungchan stepped behind you, resting his hands on your hips and pulling you back into him. He placed a few lazy kisses along your neck, murmuring, “I think the pantsuit is growing on me, actually.”

“Then why are you trying to take it off me?” You questioned, grabbing his hand that had been reaching for your blouse buttons again.

“Because I like what’s under it better.”

“Nice try. I have work.” You spun out of his arms, heading for his bedroom door.

Two steps into the hall, you knew something was wrong. There were other voices in Sungchan’s apartment, which stopped when they saw you. As soon as your eyes registered the three men in the living room, you skittered backwards back into Sungchan’s room again.

Practically slamming his door closed behind you, you didn’t let him get whatever surprised statement he had out of his mouth, as you hissed, “Sungchan! Why is your whole fucking band out there?”

“Probably because your work alarm woke them up too,” he laughed, which turned into a yawn as he stretched his arms over his head. “They’re not really early birds…”

“Why are they here?”

“They live here?”

In your rush to get into Sungchan’s bedroom last night, you had somehow missed any signs of three other people living here. You didn’t even hear them come home last night, and you weren’t exactly… quiet yourself. Definitely not three roommates quiet.

“Oh my god…” You sunk down against the door, shaking your head. “I’m just going to stay in here and die, I think.”

“I thought you had work?” Sungchan pointed out smugly.

“Ugh…” You groaned, covering your face with your hands.

“Y/N, they’ve already seen you. Here, I’ll walk you out. Will that help?” He offered, pulling on a shirt and his leather jacket.

“Fine, I’m gonna be late if I stay any longer.”

He held a hand out to you, and you placed yours in it for him to pull you to your feet. “Let’s go.”

The chatter that had started up again in your absence died down as soon as the bedroom door opened. Sure enough, the other three members of Roses for Eyes were sprawled out across the living room exactly where you’d left them. Shotaro was sideways in an armchair, Switch in hand as his thumbs moved over the controls quickly. Eunseok was sleepily eating a bowl of cereal on the couch, while Wonbin didn’t actually look awake, slumped against Eunseok’s shoulder with his eyes closed.

“Morning, guys,” Sungchan nodded to them as you walked by, still ushering you to the door.

Eunseok wordlessly held his hand out palm-up towards the armchair, and you saw Shotaro smack a few bills down into it.

At the front door, you were just ready to leave. Patting Sungchan’s arm, you gave him a nod and hushed, “Bye.”

Turning to grab the door handle, you heard Sungchan’s voice, nowhere near the whisper yours was.

“Baby, you almost forgot—” Sungchan stopped you, grabbing your hand and spinning you back around.

The sudden pet name made your skin burn. “What is it, Sungchan? My phone?” You started patting your pockets.

He took off the leather jacket that he just put on, putting it squarely on your shoulders. “Oh, and—” He cradled your face with two hands, kissing you.

It was short, sweet, and made your knees feel like jelly. When he’d pulled away, still holding your face, you whispered in the small space between you, “I’m going to be late.”

“Have a good day at work.” He smiled, letting you go and opening the door for you.

With a sigh, Eunseok gave the money back to Shotaro.

You weren’t late that morning, thankfully, but your mind was still in the stratosphere as you bustled around the breakroom making yourself coffee. You’d left Sungchan’s jacket hanging off the back of your chair; it wasn’t exactly in dress code for your office.

“Morning, Y/N,” Renjun said through a yawn, shuffling into the breakroom as well. He paused as he seemed to be taking in your clothes. “Am I crazy or did you wear that yesterday?”

“The only thing worse than an outfit repeater is an outfit remember-er,” you jested back.

“No, I mean like…” He got closer, rubbing his eyes as he peered at your blouse. “You didn’t wash them. They’re all wrinkled and—You got laid.”

“Or I need to do laundry.”

He pointed to your neck. “Hickey.”

“Damn, you caught me breaking my undying vow of chastity—oh wait,” you retorted sarcastically.

He held his hands up. “Hey, no slut-shaming here. Love that for you. One question?”

“What?”

“Was it drummer guy?”

You looked around the breakroom as you stirred sugar into your coffee. “…Yes.”

Renjun chuckled and grabbed a coffee mug. “Something new every day…”

“Why can’t you just get the food delivered?” You complained, pulling Sungchan’s blankets tighter around you as the bed grew cold without him in there with you.

He hopped on one foot as he pulled a shoe on. “Because the delivery charge is as much as the food is, baby. And it’s just around the block.”

You huffed dramatically, watching him start searching the sheets for his phone. He secured it in his hand victoriously, tucking it in his back pocket.

“You could come with me, you know,” he pointed out, mischievous hands already reaching for the covers and pulling them down, revealing your bare legs to the cold air conditioning. “But you’d have to put pants on.”

You yanked the blankets back over you. “I’ll wait.”

He snickered, leaning down to press his lips to yours. “Be back in a few.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sighed, kissing him again.

He dropped one more peck to your forehead before standing up straight and heading out, shutting his door behind him. You snuggled back under the covers, pulling the blanket up over your shoulders as you tried to enjoy the fleeting warmth left over as you scrolled on your phone. Sungchan had only been gone for a few minutes when you heard the front door open again. You perked up with interest. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d be back soon. Then there were a couple light knocks on the bedroom door. Not Sungchan. One of his bandmates must have come home.

You scrambled to throw the sheets off you and grab a pair of your shorts from Sungchan’s floor, putting your legs through them as you stumbled towards the door. Opening it just enough to peer out, you saw Wonbin on the other side, a plastic grocery bag in his hand. He didn’t seem surprised to see you at all.

“…Hi?” You greeted him hesitantly. You had been seeing Sungchan for a couple weeks now, and had caught glimpses of his roommates around his apartment, but had yet to say much more than the occasional ‘morning’ or ‘night’ or ‘hey’ in passing.

Wonbin held up the plastic bag. “Can you help me dye my hair?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” You looked down at what you were wearing, one of Sungchan’s black t-shirts. “What color? Should I change? Like, is it bleach?”

“Black. That’s fine.” He turned around, walking back down the hall.

You followed him as he opened another one of the doors, this one leading to a bathroom. As he prepped the dye, you read the pamphlet of instructions carefully.

“I’ll do the mixing,” he interrupted your deep focus. “I just can’t see the back of my head.”

“Oh. Okay.” You set the directions down on the counter next to the bottles. “I’ve never done this before… Don’t want to ruin your hair.”

He shrugged, handing you a pair of gloves. “If you miss a spot, we’ll just do it again.”

After Wonbin mixed up the dye, he sat on the edge of the tub for you to stand over him and start applying it to his hair. As you worked the dark dye into his blonde hair, you watched his soft waves straighten out.

“I liked the blonde curls,” you commented, moving onto the next section.

“Me too.” He flicked through his music library on his phone. “Time for something new, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” you smiled to yourself, adding more dye.

“What music do you like?”

“Oh, put on whatever you want. I’m trying to broaden my horizons.”

He wordlessly selected a song, a soft guitar melody coming through the speakers. It was so different from the music that you’d heard them perform, your hands slowed as you listened thoughtfully.

“Is that why you’re dating Sungchan?” Wonbin’s question caught you off-guard.

“What?” You parted his hair, double-checking that you had gotten every bit of blonde in that section.

“You’re broadening your horizons.” He picked at his nail polish that was already chipped. “Is that why you’re dating Sungchan?”

“Something like that.” Satisfied that you had fully saturated that area, you went to the next one. “I also just like him.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Why? Because we’re so different?”

“No, because he’s lame.”

You laughed right as you had started squeezing more dye out, missing his head as the liquid dripped right down the back of his neck instead. Wonbin hissed in surprise, shoulders jumping.

“Oh! Sorry!” You were still laughing as you grabbed the end of the towel that was around his shoulders, wiping at the stray hair dye.

Shotaro came home soon after that, joining the two of you in the bathroom, hopping up on the bathroom counter to watch you apply the hair dye. He showed off his new nose ring that he just got, and tsked when he saw Wonbin’s chipped nail polish.

“We’re gonna have to redo that, Wonbin,” the frontman shook his head. “After Y/N’s done with your hair.”

“Once it’s applied, it’s got to sit for thirty minutes,” you recalled the instructions. “Will that be long enough?”

“Plenty.”

You were a little more than halfway done with Wonbin’s hair when Sungchan finally got back.

“Wonbin? Taro? You guys here?” He called out into the apartment. “Y/N’s here too by the—”

He’d poked his head into the bathroom then, brown paper bag of food in hand. You gave him a wave with your hair dye-covered, gloved hand.

“Hi, Sungchan,” you smiled. “That was more than a few minutes.”

“Clearly,” he gestured to the scene in front of him. “I leave you for like twelve minutes and my bandmates adopt you.”

“We can eat once I finish applying Wonbin’s hair dye.”

“Sure.”

“What’d you get?” Shotaro leaned over towards the bag with interest.

“Only four extra crab rangoons. Fight over them however you want.” Sungchan pulled out a smaller bag from within the takeout bag.

Wonbin and Shotaro locked eyes.

“None for Eunseok?” Shotaro proposed.

Wonbin nodded minutely, as much as he could with some of his hair still in your hands. The front door slammed closed then, and they both groaned.

“I smell chemicals!” Eunseok yelled out. “What is it this time, Wonbin? Purple? Red? Both?”

The bassist appeared in the doorway behind Sungchan, peeking over his shoulder at everyone. “Oh hey, Y/N.”

“Hi, Eunseok.” You nodded to him, applying more dye.

“Shotaro, are those crab rangoons you’re hiding behind your back?”

A random Sunday afternoon found you at Sungchan’s apartment, as you seemed to be most days now. If you weren’t at work, at one of his gigs, or with your own friends, it was a safe bet that you could be found there.

He opened the door for you, pecking your cheek in greeting, “Hi, baby.”

“I know what we’re doing today,” you blurted out, before you could lose your nerve. “My something new.”

He tilted his head curiously. “And? What is it?”

You took a deep breath. “I’m going to get my ears pierced. Second lobe piercings, I already have the first done. I’ve been wanting to do it for like forever, but I just… haven’t. It’s allowed at my work, I checked the employee handbook, and asked someone from HR on Friday to be extra sure.”

Sungchan beamed at you. “Hell yeah. We can use Shotaro’s piercer, unless you’ve already looked someone up?”

“Whoever Shotaro goes to will be fine.”

Wonbin was taking a nap on the couch in the afternoon sunlight, and you walked past him to get to the hall where Shotaro and Eunseok’s rooms were. Shotaro’s door was ajar already, and Sungchan pushed it open the rest of the way. The frontman was laid out on his bed upside down, his feet kicked up on the wall as he lazily plucked out a melody on an acoustic guitar. Eunseok was in there too, scrawling away at a notebook at the guitarist’s desk.

“Who do you go to for your piercings?” Sungchan didn’t give either of them so much as a hello.

Shotaro craned his neck to look over at the two of you. “Huh? Oh, uh, Sid, at Black Cat in downtown. Why? What are you getting?”

“Not for me,” Sungchan informed him happily, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

Eunseok’s head snapped up from where he had been focused on his notebook, and Shotaro set his instrument aside to roll over and fully face you.

“Y/N?!” Shotaro’s jaw dropped in delight. “What are you getting?”

“Ah, just my second lobes…” you muttered self-consciously, hands instinctively feeling at the jewelry that you already had in your existing piercings. You pushed further into Sungchan’s side to hide your face from them, especially when the bassist muttered a ‘woah’ at this revelation.

“Sid taking walk-ins today?” Sungchan asked.

“She should be. You know what? I’ll call her right now.” Shotaro eagerly brought out his phone.

After he confirmed that Sid was, in fact, taking walk-ins, Sungchan went to get changed as Eunseok and Shotaro put shoes on as well, ushering you towards the front door. All the commotion woke Wonbin up, as he sleepily lifted his head up and rubbed one of his eyes, watching the four of you.

“Where are you guys going?” Wonbin squinted against the sun.

“Y/N’s getting pierced!” Shotaro announced brightly.

“I’m coming.”

At Black Cat, which you learned was a tattoo and piercing shop, you met with Sid, a young woman who was no older than you, and told her what you wanted. She nodded, looking at your ears for just a second.

“Easy. How old were you when you got the first ones done?” She asked, pulling out a tray of jewelry from under the counter she was standing behind.

“Thirteen maybe? I know it was done with one of those piercing guns…” You admitted sheepishly.

“We don’t use those here.” She shook her head. “Injures the tissue too much. I’ll be using a needle, should take like half a second on each side. I’ll explain everything back at the station where I can show you all the tools.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“I’ll give you a minute to pick your jewelry while I prep the station.” With that, she walked towards the back of the shop.

Everyone huddled around while you browsed through the options, seeming to have their own input. You finally settled on a pair of studs with small diamonds in them, not too outlandish; you’d be able to easily match them with the rest of your jewelry and any outfits you wore to work easily while the piercings healed.

“You nervous?” Sungchan murmured, rubbing your back as Shotaro and Wonbin wandered over towards the other end of the clear case of jewelry, looking at industrial piercings. Eunseok flipped through a book of flash tattoo options.

You shook your head. “No. Excited.”

“So you’re not gonna need to hold my hand?”

“I didn’t say that…”

As Sid walked back over, the others crowded around you excitedly again.

“Do you all really need to be here? It’s not that big of a deal…” You muttered, a bit embarrassed at how hyped they were over you just getting a couple ear piercings.

“I’m with Y/N on this one. Only you can come back.” She pointed at Sungchan. “The rest of you will have to wait up front.”

Sitting on the padded chair at Sid’s station, she walked you through each step and the tools she’d be using first, then marked where the piercings would go on your ears.

“Check the placement.” She handed you a handheld mirror.

You appraised them, then looked up at Sungchan. “What do you think? Even?”

“Sit up straight. And straighten out your shoulders, did you know you slouch?” He teased, grabbing your shoulders and straightening them out for you.

You glared up at him, but fixed your posture nevertheless.

“They look good, baby,” he approved, squeezing your arm.

Sungchan stood off to your side, holding your hand as Sid got ready on the on the first ear.

“Alright. One, two—” At the pinch, you squeezed Sungchan’s hand tighter, face screwing up in surprise.

She moved to the other side. “Next. One, two—” Pinch. “All done.”

“Wooh!” The other three cheered from up front, pumping their fists and jumping up and down.

“Fuck yeah, Y/N!” Eunseok yelled out.

“Baby’s first body mod!” Shotaro pretended to wipe a tear from under his eye. “They grow up so fast…”

“So pretty, baby,” Sungchan kissed your cheek, a wide grin on his face when he pulled back. He wiped at the single actual tear that had spilled over from your own eye. “So proud of you.”

Your face hurt from how much you were smiling, more than your ears did.

“Y/N!” Jaemin stood up from the table as soon as he saw you, pulling you in for a hug. The two of you were meeting up on your respective lunch breaks at a café equidistant from your workplaces.

“Hi Jaem—Ow!” You hissed as his head bumped into your ear.

“What? What’s wrong?” He pulled back, clearly worried.

“It’s nothing, sorry.” You cradled the wounded ear, giving him a reassuring smile. “I finally got my second lobes done the other day and they’re still tender.”

“Let me see!”

You tucked your hair behind your ears to show off the small diamonds. “Just some studs…”

“Cool. They look good.” He was still smiling as the two of you sat down. “What made you want to do that?”

“I’ve been talking about it for a while.”

“Yeah, I know. What made you finally get them?”

“Something spontaneous or new every day, remember?”

“Well, I’m happy you finally did it. Seems your little quarter life crisis is actually working, huh?”

“Sungchan’s been helping me,” you acknowledged, watching his face carefully.

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “The drummer guy?”

“Yeah, I’ve been seeing him...” You sat forward, lacing your hands together in front of you on the table. “Speaking of—Dinner tomorrow, I figured I could bring him? You guys could all meet?”

Jaemin rubbed the back of his neck, tone turning remorseful. “Damn, Y/N, I wish you’d told me sooner. I already made the reservation for five people.”

“You can’t call back and change it to six?”

“Limited space.”

“There’s not a lot of five-person tables. Wouldn’t they be putting us at one that seats six anyway?”

“If I change it, we’ll be bumped to the bottom of the list again.”

“Oh. That’s alright, another time,” you acquiesced as your waiter came over, handing you menus.

“Another time,” your friend agreed.

You were in the ‘green room’ of Anton’s basement, which was actually the laundry alcove that had a few chairs set up for the acts to sit and wait before they went on. All of Roses for Eyes were back there, chatting as the time for their set to start got closer.

“You know what I’m craving?” Sungchan hummed in your ear.

“What is that?” You turned to look at him out of the corner of your vision from your current position on his lap.

“Fries from that place where your sturdy friend works.”

“He has a name,” you laughed, pinching his forearm. “Do you want to go get some after this? They’re open late.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“After the day I had at work, I’ve earned a milkshake,” you sighed, leaning back against him.

Sungchan wrapped his arms around your waist, and you could hear the frown in his voice as he asked, “What happened, baby?”

“You’re about to go on, I’ll tell you later,” you promised. “Just my boss—”

“Yo! Roses!” Anton poked his head into the room just then. “Two minutes! Let’s go!”

You got up from Sungchan’s lap as the others started grabbing their instruments. “I should go grab a spot.”

“Okay…” He cupped your cheek to bring your mouth to his. “See you in a minute, baby.”

“See you.”

You picked your way through the crowd until you found a group of familiar faces: Anton, and two more regulars and friends of Roses for Eyes, Sohee and Seunghan. When the band still hadn’t come out after a few minutes, you got on your tiptoes to look over the crowd towards the green room.

“Wonder what’s keeping them?” You mused, dropping back onto flat feet again.

“Oh, Jay and Hayoung popped in there right after you left,” Anton explained. “Said they wanted to talk to them.”

“I thought they already left,” Seunghan commented.

“No, their tour starts in a couple weeks, I think,” Sohee explained. “Or at least, the tickets I have aren’t until next month.”

“Is that for the Venue:Hell show?”

“Yeah, are you going?”

“Waiting to get paid then I’ll buy my ticket.”

“Anton and I have an extra,” Sohee offered. “He was going to bring that girl he was seeing, but we all know how that worked out.”

“No need to rub it in my face,” Anton grumbled as the other two simultaneously snickered and tried to comfort him. He then turned to you. “Where’d Sungchan find you, anyway?”

“Oh, uh, I got lost and asked him for directions at the bookstore he works at,” you answered, knowing that wasn’t going to help your friend very much.

“You’re useless to me.”

You laughed and patted his back. “I’m sorry, Anton. Maybe instead of trying to find someone the same way Sungchan and I met, you should just try meeting different people. Sungchan could tell that I wasn’t into this kind of stuff at all when we met, and still tried anyway.”

“Alright, got any pantsuit-wearing friends you can set me up with?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

It was then that Roses for Eyes finally started walking out, Sungchan at the front. They seemed to be even more energetic than usual during their set, and you could feel it radiate out through the whole room. You couldn’t stop jumping, dancing, and singing along to the songs that you had finally learned the lyrics to.

When they were done, Shotaro gave their usual thank-you and goodbye before leaving. By the time the next act was starting their first song, Roses for Eyes had joined the rest of you in the crowd.

“You guys did so good!” You praised them, squeezing Shotaro’s forearm as you wrapped your other arm around Sungchan’s waist. “Like, I think that was like the best set I’ve ever seen!”

“Thanks, baby,” Sungchan laughed breathlessly, kissing your temple and pulling you even closer with an arm around your shoulders. “You looked like you were having a good time.”

“She’s right, you guys had a lot of energy up there,” Seunghan complimented them as well.

“What did Hayoung and Jay want, by the way?” Anton asked. “They kept you guys for a while.”

The band exchanged uncertain looks, Eunseok, Wonbin, and Shotaro looking to Sungchan as if waiting for his cue.

He shrugged and squeezed your shoulder. “Just dropping by before they go on tour, you know?”

The rest of Roses for Eyes declined accompanying you and Sungchan for your midnight snack, so it was just the two of you squished into the same side of a booth, Sungchan taking sips from your milkshake as you stole fries from his plate.

“Tell me about work,” he prompted you, nudging your leg with his.

“Oh, God, it was just… long,” you groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “Felt like it would never end. My boss put off starting his part of this project until literally the day before our deadline to send it to the VP, which meant I had to rush to finalize everything. Meanwhile, he was breathing down my neck the whole time about the deadline! Like! Dude, I fucking know! We wouldn’t be cutting it so close if he had done his part earlier!”

“That’s really inconsiderate.” Sungchan frowned, rubbing your back. “I’m sorry, baby, that sounds really stressful.”

“But we got it submitted, so that’s all that matters, I guess,” you sighed. “You were right, Sungchan. I hate my job.”

His hand stilled on your back, just resting there as you sat in the wake of your admission.

“You remember my friends from the food truck?” He asked, abruptly changing topics.

“Yeah, Jay and Hayoung.”

“Well, we actually got an offer to open for their band on tour,” he told you, voice pitching up with excitement. That must’ve been what they were discussing before their set tonight. “It’ll be for a couple months.”

“Oh… congrats. I know this is big for you guys. Have fun.” You smiled, trying to hide the sudden emptiness inside you as you tried to imagine what your days would look like without Sungchan or the rest of his bandmates for two whole months. “When do you leave?”

“Next Saturday. Their original opener dropped out, it was last-minute.”

“Oh. I’ll see you when you get back, then.” You then paused, your mind suddenly changing directions and racing with other thoughts of why he might want to be telling you this. He was a drummer in a band going on their first tour, maybe he’d want the full rockstar experience. “Unless this was something else…”

His eyes widened as he shook his head fervently. “I’m not—I mean, I won’t ask you to wait for me if you want to get on with your life while I’m gone, but I would wait for you.”

“Why not?” You furrowed your brow thoughtfully.

“What?”

“Why wouldn’t you ask me to wait for you? You want me to ask you to wait, but you won’t ask me.”

“Because I’m about to ask you for something even bigger than to wait two months for me to come back.” He grabbed your hand, holding it tight.

“What…?”

“Come with me.”

“What?!” You blinked, for a moment unsure that you had even heard him right.

“On tour. Come with me,” he repeated, as sincere, eager, and genuine as he was in everything.

You immediately stammered out, “Sungchan, I’d have to quit my job—”

“And then when we get back, you can find one that you actually like.”

“If I can even get one.”

“This is exactly what you’ve been trying to do, Y/N. Something new every day.” He was sandwiching your hand between both of his now. “Please, just think about it?”

“Alright, what are you moping about?” Renjun asked, pushing an already-opened beer into your hand as he walked by.

The five of you were over at Jeno and Jaemin’s place for a movie, pizza, and beer night, and the first movie hadn’t even been started yet. As usual, you were an open book to your friends.

“Sungchan’s band is going on tour. For two months,” you told them glumly before bringing the bottle to your lips. “They leave Saturday.”

“They have enough fans to do that?” Donghyuck snorted, picking up a slice of pizza.

“They’re opening for another band.”

“Aw, I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Y/N,” Jaemin went to comfort you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

You tapped a fingernail against the glass bottle in your hands. “He asked me to go with him.”

“Does he think you can just quit your job for two months and come back and your boss will rehire you?” Renjun retorted. “This guy lives another world, sounds like you dodged a bullet.”

“You’re considering it.” Donghyuck pointed at you knowingly. “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have brought up that he asked you until after he was long gone.”

You were quiet, looking down at your slice of pizza.

“Are you?” Jeno asked.

“I mean, I’ve been trying to do something different every day—”

“Woahwoahwoah! Seriously?!” Renjun cut you off, waving his hands wildly.

“I have enough in my savings to cover my rent and stuff while I’m gone, plus a few months after I get back while I look for a new job—”

“Holy shit you’re like, serious about this,” Jeno breathed out, blinking in surprise.

Jaemin took over, “When we joked about you having a quarter life crisis, we didn’t mean for you to actually do something like quit your job and go run off to join your punk boyfriend that you barely know on his dirtbag boyband’s tour for months.”

“We kind of figured you seeing this guy was already pushing your limits…” Renjun added.

“Gee, thanks.” You rolled your eyes. “You thought I was—What? Getting it out of my system? Then I’d settle down with a guy who’s as boring as I am?”

“When you phrase it like that—”

“You guys don’t even know Sungchan.” You cut Jaemin off, getting to your feet to face them all as your skin pricked with anger.

“Do you? You’ve been seeing him for like a month.” Jaemin gestured to you pointedly.

“Three. But thanks for proving my point so well,” you snapped. “You haven’t even tried to get to know him! You don’t like his music, fine, I wouldn’t expect you to go back to a show. But you haven’t invited him anywhere and you somehow always have an excuse when I invite you guys to something with him. None of you have even really met him. Not even Jeno from that one time, so don’t try to start that.”

They all seemed to be at a loss for words, looking at each other as if waiting for someone else to say the right thing.

“Y/N, come on…” Jaemin tried again, but trailed off at your furious glare.

“I’m going,” you declared, grabbing your phone from the coffee table. “Unless any of you plan on getting your heads out of your asses in the next five seconds.”

They were quiet again, and you took that as your answer, storming out of the apartment.

“Oh hey.” Eunseok’s face held mild surprise when he opened the door for you. “Sungchan said you weren’t coming over today.”

“Is he here?” You were still agitated from what just happened with your friends.

“In his room.” The bassist stepped back to let you in.

You passed by Wonbin and Shotaro in the living room, a game paused on their TV. They gave you greetings as you walked by, and you tossed a hello back over your shoulder. Sungchan’s door opened before you even got to it, confusion on his features when he saw you there.

“Hey, I thought I heard your voice.” He watched you as you stomped past him into his room. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, baby, but I thought you were hanging out with your friends tonight. What are you doing here?”

“I’m pissed at them.”

“What happened?” He sat down on his bed as you paced angrily in front of him.

“I was trying to tell them about the tour.” You gestured between the two of you. “You know, bouncing ideas off them or whatever. My mind was pretty much made up, I just needed to talk it through. And they couldn’t even be happy for you, or actually listen to me! They just called you a dirtbag and patronized me like a dumb child. Apparently, they’ve just been waiting for me to dump you and settle down with some boring guy that’s better for someone boring like me! They’ve been refusing to meet you, I mean, I can’t believe they think they somehow know anything about if you’re good for me or not.”

Sungchan had been listening patiently while you ranted, and when it seemed like you had come to a stopping point, he asked, “They really said all that?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Pretty much?” He repeated knowingly.

You put your hands on your hips. “They called you guys a dirtbag boyband. And said I was ‘pushing my limits’ by seeing you.”

“‘Dirtbag boyband,’” Sungchan repeated with a laugh. “Yeah, I like that.”

“Of course you think it’s funny.”

“That part? Yeah, I do,” he snickered, holding a hand out towards you. When you had reluctantly put yours in it, he pulled you closer, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “The part where they’re being super judgmental and treating you like you can’t make your own decisions? No, I don’t think that’s funny.”

You took a deep breath, already beginning to calm down a little as he continued working soothing circles into your skin.

“You said your mind was made up? Mostly?” Sungchan asked tentatively, eyes focused on your intertwined hands.

“I want to go with you,” you said, watching his head snap up to look at you, his face hopeful. “On the tour. I fucking hate my job and I love you.”

Sungchan’s eyes went wide as he gazed up at you. Then he was yanking you down into his arms, and you let out an embarrassing ‘eep!’ as you threw your arms around his shoulders, trying to find some stability in your sudden change in orientation. He held you tightly, burying his face in your neck. You could feel his smile against your skin.

“I love you too,” he murmured, pulling back to cup your cheek. He was grinning. “I love you.”

Your skin got warmer as you realized exactly what you’d said, but you couldn’t take it back now. You’d said it, you meant it, it was true, and you wanted to say it again.

“I love you.” You repeated, feeling a smile creep across your face.

Sungchan leaned up to kiss you, cradling the back of your head as he pressed his lips to yours. You kissed him back, tangling your fingers in his hair as you pressed even closer to him.

Your phone started buzzing relentlessly in your back pocket then, and you let out an annoyed groan into Sungchan’s mouth. You broke apart just enough to pull out your phone and look at the screen, fully intending on declining the call. Then you saw the caller ID and paused.

“Who is it?” Sungchan asked, kissing along your jaw.

“Jeno.” You continued staring at the screen.

He drew back. “You should answer it.”

“Sungchan—”

“Just see what he wants. Might be important.”

You sighed, and hit the accept button. “What?”

“You picked up! Great!” Jeno sounded genuinely shocked. “Uhm, will you come back?”

“So you guys can continue belittling my life choices? Pass.”

“No, no, so we can all talk. Actually talk this time.”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you sized up your options: staying here with Sungchan, or going back to that unpleasant atmosphere. Seemed like a pretty obvious choice to you.

“Jaemin will apologize,” Jeno added. “He wants to apologize, uh, to you.”

“Why didn’t he call me then?” You asked dryly.

“He didn’t think you’d pick up if he called.”

“I wasn’t going to pick up your call either,” you informed him. “Sungchan said I should hear you out.”

“Oh. You’re with him right now.”

“I’ll come back,” you stated. “But I’m bringing Sungchan.”

You would be feeling awkward right now if you weren’t so pissed off. As soon as Jaemin had opened the door and you saw his face, you just got pissed off all over again. The only thing keeping you here and mostly civil was Sungchan.

“This is Renjun, Jeno, Donghyuck, and Jaemin,” you blandly pointed out all your friends for Sungchan’s sake.

“Hi, Sungchan, dirtbag boyfriend,” Sungchan introduced himself with a broad smile, making the first move to shake all their hands.

Jaemin looked at you incredulously. “Y/N, you told him—”

“They’re your words, Jaemin. Now eat. them.” You said through gritted teeth, arms crossed over your chest firmly.

“I didn’t call you a dirtbag,” Jaemin tried to explain himself to Sungchan.

“Just his band,” Renjun pointed out helpfully.

“I thought it was funny,” Sungchan told him with a chuckle, stepping back to wrap an arm around your shoulders. “Y/N, not so much.”

“Well, she has no sense of humor, as I’m sure you know,” Donghyuck teased.

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t introduce you guys for you to all pick on me.”

“I think you’ve got a great sense of humor, baby,” your boyfriend reassured you, squeezing your arm.

“So do you have like, a tour bus or something?” Jaemin asked.

“We’ve got a van,” Sungchan told them proudly. “We won’t be sleeping in it or anything, we’ll get hotels.”

“How many tattoos do you have?” Donghyuck flopped back into his armchair.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Jaemin rounded on him.

He shrugged. “Nothing. Just curious.”

“I’ve lost count,” Sungchan answered candidly.

“Cool.”

“Y/N mentioned you worked at a bookstore and a tea shop as well,” Jeno said. “Are they cool with you uh, going so suddenly?”

“I’m a part-timer. My bosses at both places knew what I actually wanted to do when I started,” he explained. “If they still have a spot for me when we get back, that’d be nice, but I don’t expect it.”

“So, are you going to be quitting tomorrow, Y/N?” Renjun’s voice held no judgment, just curiosity.

You nodded. “Yeah. I fucking hate that place.”

“Good. I could tell.”

“When do you guys leave? This week?” Jeno asked.

“Saturday,” Sungchan confirmed. “We’ll be popping back over here in a few weeks for a show at Venue:Hell, though.”

“Are there tickets… left?” Jaemin rubbed the back of his neck. “To the show in town?”

“You want to go?” You blurted out, a little dumbfounded.

“Totally, man.” Sungchan was absolutely beaming. “I’ll get you guys some.”

Donghyuck raised his beer to him before tipping it back. “Hell yeah.”

Later that night, tucked under Sungchan’s covers and curled up in his arms, your fingertips traced the lines of his tattoos as you were slowly lulled closer and closer to sleep.

“Thank you, Sungchan,” you said aloud into the darkness.

“Mm? For what, baby?” He questioned sleepily, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“For not giving up on me. Even if you were just tagging along for the ride at the beginning, I would’ve just given up on my stupid little idea to cure my quarter life crisis if I didn’t have someone else doing it with me,” you admitted.

“Thank you for not telling me to fuck off when you had every right to,” he chuckled, tangling his legs with yours. “I love you, baby.”

You turned your head to kiss his hair. “I love you too, Sungchan.”

⏯ sequel

⤷ masterlist

[incorrectbatfam]

Not sure if you’ve heard of the ‘dad reflex’ where dads just save their small children from imminent harm (usually because the child is still learning how gravity works or just completely unaware of the world around them). I know Bruce technically doesn’t get the bat kids young but either way his batdad reflex has to be off the charts. What are his best dad reflexes? (They can be smol kids or cannon ages whatever sparks your creative juices most!)

Thank you💙💙

They're at someone else's gala and 27-year-old grown-ass Dick is swinging from a giant chandelier in an atrium 3 stories high when it gives out and Bruce "Wine drunk and raving about his kids" Wayne, who hears the tiny snap across the room, stops mid-conversation, grabs a steak knife, slashes a curtain, and swings from the balcony in like fuckin' Tarzan to grab him in the span of 5 seconds before 300 pounds of metal and glass come crashing down

Tim gets mosh pit tickets for his favorite band and Bruce goes with him because Bernard got caught up in something last minute, and after hours of waiting outside, they make it all the way to the front where, on the last song, Bruce's dad senses tingle in time to shield Tim from a malfunctioning confetti cannon all while glaring at the crew in a way that guarantees someone's about to lose their job

In a recon mission gone sideways, Bruce and Steph are taking on some goons at the harbor when one of them knocks her into the water, and without hesitation he throws aside the person he's fighting, dives into the freezing waves, and gives her his rebreather, holding his breath for what seems like forever until they resurface, and despite the ache in his lungs the next morning, it's worth it when he watches her turn waffles into a breakfast burrito

Duke's driving the Batmobile while Bruce is in the passenger's seat walking him through all the controls, and they're listening to the scanner and joking about their last mission when, just before an intersection, Bruce suddenly grabs the wheel and swerves, and before Duke can say anything a semi truck plows through the exact spot where they would've been

Cass tries to cook one day while Bruce is sitting at the bar doing some work, and he forgot what she was making, but all he knows is one minute he's answering an email and the next he's sprinting across the kitchen and sweeping her out of the way right before the pressure cooker explodes—and afterwards he doesn't let her clean up because everything is still scalding hot

The middle school holds a fundraiser at the petting zoo, and everything's going great until someone forgets to turn off their flash and the whole enclosure descends into chaos, and all Bruce cares about is scooping Damian up before a bull rams into the fence he was sitting on—then he makes eye contact with Clark, who just did the exact same with Jon

Against orders, Jason pursues a lead that brings him right to the Joker's doorstep. Dazed and disarmed, he doesn't realize what's happening until a long metallic scrape renders him frozen as those moments replay in his mind, and he thinks this is how the universe wants him to go out. Then he hears a swoosh and a click. Jason opens his eyes to Batman pointing a gun at the Joker, his silence sending a clear message: no more chances.

BONUS: Teenage Bruce tried to sneak out the window and Alfred was at the bottom ready to catch him

[shingekinosimpson]

You Had Me At B Minor: Chapter 5

Chp 1 | Chp 2 | Chp 3 | Chp 4

Pairing: Jean Kirschtein x Marco Bodt

Other relationships: Reibert, Springles, Historia x Ymir, Levi x Hange, a smidge of Jearmin

Rating: Mature

Summary: Jean's band needs a new bass player. Cue freckled Jesus.

Warnings/tags: Long fic, slow burn, Jean POV, friends to lovers, British AU with cannon locations, northern Jean, Unsigned band AU, nonbinary Armin, I promise there will be smut eventually! drinking, mentions of death, descriptions of domestic violence, panic attacks, see start of each chapter for more specific trigger warnings

************************************

Trigger warnings: Alcohol

Put your arms around somebody else And don't punish yourself, punish yourself The truth is like blood underneath your fingernails You don't wanna hurt yourself, hurt yourself By looking too closely

Connie and I finish at the bar around seven and rock up at Eren’s place a little after half eight. There’s always plenty of staff to work Saturdays so we usually get the evenings to ourselves.

I bang too hard on the door and it makes the side of my hand throb. Connie gives me a wary side-glance. I’ve been in an irritable mood all day. At first I put it down to lack of sleep. Usually I’m out like a light, but I couldn’t settle last night, tossing and turning every five minutes in a futile search for a comfortable position.

However, as the day drew on, I started to feel more and more ropey. Not hungover exactly (I didn’t drink that much) but definitely a tad worse for wear. I blame mixing my drinks. Or maybe I need to remember that I’m twenty fucking four and can’t expect the luxury of hangover-free nights out anymore. The thought makes me scowl as I wait for someone to answer the door. It sounds like there’s already quite a few people inside, so I don’t know what’s taking so fucking long.

“S’up dickholes!” Eren yells swinging the door open.

“Hey man!” Connie lifts Eren off the floor with a hug that practically squeezes the life out of him.

“Alright cockgobbler?” I grumble.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it Jean,” Eren wheezes, still held aloft by Connie.

I respond with an eye-roll.

“What the fuck happened to your face Con?”

“A demented elbow in a mosh pit is what happened!” Connie squeaks, putting Eren down as his weedy arms finally give up.

The bruising is nowhere near as bad as I was expecting, just a bit of purple splodging under one eye.

“We the last one’s here?” he asks.

He sounds completely nonchalant, but I know better. He’s trying to find out if Sasha’s here yet.

“Yeah, pretty much everyone’s here except you two. C’mon get yourselves a drink.”

Pretty much everyone. Does that include Marco?

I don’t see him as I enter the kitchen and sling my bag of beer on the counter. Armin, Historia and Mikasa are quick to greet us with enthusiastic ‘hi’s and hugs. I don’t know everyone I can see, but I recognise a couple of guys from Eren’s work chatting on breakfast stools. Oluo and Gunther I think they’re called.

I crack open two bottles for me and Connie and head into the living room to see if Marco’s here. He isn’t, but Sasha is, chatting rather cosily on the sofa with a hunky blonde dude Eren works with. Already anticipating a bad reaction, I turn to push Connie back into the kitchen but he’s already seen.

Shit.

The cheeky smile and bright eyes snap into a furrowed brow and tight mouth. Sasha’s eyes lock onto us and she practically leaps across the sofa to get some distance between her and…I wanna say Eld? She gets to her feet and walks over, though she looks a bit unsteady, slightly tipsy already. Eld puffs out an exasperated breath and joins a serious looking girl on the adjacent sofa. I’ve met her once before. She's doing a PhD with Armin. I’m sure she's called Annie.

“Hey!” Sasha says with a too-big smile, her cheeks flushed, though I can’t tell if it’s embarrassment or alcohol related.

I sense Connie tensing up beside me. He forces out a quiet, “…Hey.”

Christ this is so fucking awkward. “Hey…” Say something. “Err…” Seriously, anything! “…You, err…you been here long?” What the fuck kind of dumbass question is that!?

“Err…yeah I guess. Mikasa and Armin picked me up and we were the first ones here. You guys been at work?”

Connie says nothing. He doesn’t even look at us. Just sips his beer and scowls. Sasha and I waffle on about nothing in particular for a few more minutes before she speaks directly to him, trying (and failing) to drag him into the conversation.

“You okay Connie? Your face looks a little bruised. What happened?”

“ ’M fine. Mosh pit. I’m going to get another drink.”

He stomps back into the kitchen. I don’t try to stop him. The others can deal with his shitty mood for a bit. God knows I’ll be bearing the brunt of it at home later. I tentatively turn back to Sasha, who let’s out a long breath.

“Well that went well,” she deadpans. I can’t help the little snort that escapes me.

“Listen don’t worry about it. His dad’s been a bit ill and he’s had to work extra shifts so he's not been himself this week,” I half-lie.

Christ, she’s barely been back five minutes and you’re already slipping into your old role of mediator between these two!

“What’s new with you anyway? You and the girls make it home in one piece the other night?” I tease.

“Oi!” she reprimands, punching me in the arm and by miracle of miracles, I manage to lighten the mood.

We grab the now vacant sofa and laugh about everything that happened the other night at the bar. It’s funny how easily we fall back into the rhythm of our friendship, as though she’s never been away. Historia joins us with three amazing looking cocktails she’s whipped up for us.

“Oh my god, you absolute goddess,” I gush grabbing one from her.

My irritable mood dissipates a little more with each delicious sip. I should be cautious about drinking given how shitty I’ve felt all day, but my devilish side tells me that the solution is more alcohol. Hair of the dog and all that.

Fuck it. Let’s get fucking fucked!

We’re just getting up to get more drinks when Eren comes bounding into the room.

“Beer pong bitches! Get your asses in the kitchen!”

The fucker’s so excited he throws poor Historia over his shoulder with one arm and drags Sasha by the other.

“Waaaah! Eren!” Historia wails, but she’s laughing her head off all the way to the kitchen, even more so when Sasha smacks her playfully on the butt.

Mikasa and a tall, freckled girl I don’t know are just finishing setting up some cups on the central counter when we walk in, a measure of cheap beer in each one. Eren instructs us to split into three teams.

I groan inwardly when Sasha ends up on a team with Historia, Gunther and Eld. I don’t even need to look at Connie, I can feel the daggers he’s throwing both of them. Mikasa and the freckled girl (who it turns out is Mikasa’s friend, Ymir, from work) team up with me, Armin and Connie, leaving Annie with Eren and his other work mates.

Sasha’s team beat Eren’s in the first round so then it’s our team vs Eren’s. Annie’s amazing but the rest of them keep throwing too hard. It doesn’t take us long to claim victory, knocking them out of the game entirely. The final round will be our team vs Sasha’s, though everyone’s had their fair share of shitty beer by now. This should be interesting!

“Shit!!” I miss my first shot against Historia, who takes great delight landing hers straight after.

I knock back the beer with a grimace.

“That’s right take your medicine bitch!” she shouts, dancing on the spot and pointing at me.

“Oh it is fucking ON now,” I retort, my fiercely competitive streak running riot.

Historia, along with the rest of her team mates soon start to look worried though. Mikasa and Ymir are fucking bad-asses, landing their shots with deadly accuracy, even after drinking two cups apiece from the last round. I’m so fucking glad they’re on my team! Although it doesn’t save me from having to knock back two more cups of beer, each of my competitors hitting (in my opinion) extremely lucky shots. I loudly blame Historia’s cocktail for my shitty performance, swearing blind that she’s drugged me.

“You fucking wish Kirschtein!” she laughs.

Sasha’s tipsy demeanour, on the other hand, only seems to improve her game. She even manages to bounce the ball off FOUR fucking rims before landing it smack in the middle cup. Her team mates practically piss themselves with excitement, grabbing and hugging her. I just shout and scream curses.

Shit no! We need to win!

Eventually we’re a cup a piece. It all comes down to the skill of the next two players…and it’s Connie vs Eld.

Eld’s up first.

Destroy this motherfucker Connie.

We all stare him down as he arrogantly cricks his neck and stretches his shoulders.

C’mon Con. Wipe that stupid smirk off his fucking face.

He rolls the ball between his fingers, closes his fist and kisses it for good luck.

Miss miss fucking miss!

Stooping slightly, any bravado vanishes from his face, replaced with intense concentration as he lines up the shot. He’s taking this as seriously as I am. With a flick of his wrist he releases the ball, opting for a bounce shot instead of aiming straight at the target. He goes too hard and it bounces high in the air. Everyone collectively draws in a sharp breath, holding it while we wait to see where it will land.

It drops, bounces off one side of the rim, then the other, before bouncing off the table together.

“YES! FUCKING YES!” I scream.

Eld has his head in his hands as his team mates groan and curse. It all comes down to Connie now.

We all start with words of encouragement and prayers to the beer pong gods.

“C’mon Con!” I bark, massaging his shoulders.

They’re taut beneath my fingers and I know he means business. He’s not looking at Eld, instead staring intently at the lone cup before him. I half expect it to spontaneously combust the way he’s glaring at it.

Without breaking focus, he holds his hand out to the side, squeezing the ball when Armin obligingly drops it into his palm. He hunches down, then changes his mind and stands tall. His hand lunges forward a few times without relinquishing the ball.

One…two…release!

It soars across the table and lands with an elegant ‘plop’ in the centre of the cup. There’s a brief moment of silence before we erupt into hysterical screams, no-one quite believing it. Ymir sinks to her knees with a cry of affirmation, Armin and Mikasa grab each other screaming in triumph and I wrap my arms around Connie’s middle, hoisting him up and screeching along with my teammates.

“YES CON! YOU BEAUTIFUL MOTHER FUCKER YES!!” I’m so happy I could cry.

Eren bounds over to join in the love too. Then we all childishly turn to the defeated team and heckle them rotten. We’re so loud that I almost miss the doorbell ringing.

“Was that the door?” asks Eren.

“I’ll get it!” Armin shouts chirpily, letting go of Mikasa.

I chuckle to myself as I watch them skip merrily down the hallway; Armin always gets giddy when they’ve had a drink.

I turn back to Connie, my face sore from yelling and grinning. I expect to find him beaming at me, but he’s narrowing his eyes again as he watches Sasha give Eld a conciliatory hug.

Well his good mood lasted for all of five seconds.

I open two more of our beers and shove the bottle in his hand to distract him, clinking mine against his.

“My fucking hero,” I say with a stupid smile on my face.

He begrudgingly returns it.

I’m just wondering who’s at the door, but then I hear him and I know instantly. How can it be that I recognise Marco by voice alone when we’ve barely known each other a week? The thought doesn’t sit comfortably with me. I don’t want to dwell on the reason why. Then I remember who he’s bringing along and my soaring high from beer pong comes plummeting back down to Earth.

“You’ve just missed out on beer pong! Can I get you guys a drink?” Armin asks walking into the kitchen with Marco close behind.

“Yeah a beer please,” Marco replies.

Another guy follows him into the room.

So this is Marco’s boyfriend.

He’s shorter than Marco, though his weird hairdo adds a couple of extra inches. It’s a reddish-brown. Short, but a bit longer on the top and flicking in all sorts of crazy directions. I didn’t realise ‘poorly constructed bird’s nest’ was a trend right now.

Alright curb it with the bitchiness Kirschtein. You don’t even know the guy.

“What do you want Floch?”

Floch! What kind of dumbass name is that?

Said the boy with the French name who can’t speak a fucking word of it.

Fair point.

He glances in my direction but pays me no attention, unlike Marco who comes bounding over straight away like an excited Labrador.

“Hey!” He’s so fucking cute. Sorry, what?

I mistakenly open my arms for a hug but he stops short, so I cover by setting my drink down on the counter.

For fuck’s sake. Why are you such a dweeb?

“Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah good thanks. Oh this is my friend Floch.”

Friend? Not so official then.

“Floch this is Jean - one of the guys from the band I told you about.”

Knowing that Marco thinks enough of me to tell his boyfriend, makes me way happier than it should do. Floch offers me a hand.

“Nice to meet you John.”

Mother. Fucker.

“It’s JEAN,” I correct through gritted teeth, squeezing his hand.

Floch’s eyes flash almost imperceptibly. Marco’s dart nervously between the two of us. I decide to play nicely for his sake.

“Nice to meet you too. D’you guys need a drink?”

“Oh I think Armin’s just-”

“Armin certainly is! Here you go!”

As if on cue, Armin’s face pops between the two them, a beer in each hand.

“Thanks,” Marco says politely, while Floch just takes his and starts swigging.

He could just be nervous but it seems kind of rude.

“You guys had a good night?” asks Armin, moving to the other side of Marco.

Marco talks animatedly about their date night, which consisted of a restaurant serving ‘the best Thai food I’ve ever had’ and a trashy horror movie.

“You should’ve heard this guy scream,” Floch laughs. “It’s a good job I was there to hold his hand.”

Definitely not just friends then.

“Hey, you jumped just as much as I did!” Marco laughs, giving him a playful shove.

His hand lingers on his arm just a fraction longer than necessary, long fingers trailing lightly down Floch’s sleeve before settling back at his side again.

“S’cuse me,” I mutter brushing past Armin to get another drink.

I notice them give me a quizzical look out the corner of my eye (nothing gets passed you Armin) but purposely keep my head down, not wanting to invite a conversation about it.

Beer isn’t cutting it anymore. I need something stronger. My hand lands on a near-full bottle of Sailor Jerry’s. Yep. That’ll do. I grip the neck and drag it towards me. I can hear Connie behind me saying hi to Marco and introducing him to Mikasa and Historia. I mix myself a drink - half coke, half rum – and take a sip. It burns the shit out of my throat but it’s a welcome distraction from the clenching in my chest.

“Hey,” says a gentle voice. I turn to face Armin. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine. You okay?” I say to deflect further questioning.

“You sure?”

Shit.

“Yeah totally fine,” I reply with what I hope is a believable smile and then quickly cover it by taking a sip of my drink.

We both turn and slouch against the kitchen bench, facing the others.

“Marco’s friend seems nice.”

“Boyfriend,” I say too sharply.

“Oh. I thought so but I wasn’t sure.”

Liar. You of all people would’ve picked up on that in two seconds flat.

“Yeah…”

Sasha’s introducing herself now. The corners of Marco’s eyes crease with laughter when she enthusiastically asks him if he’s Italian.

“Sort of actually. My grandmother was from Italy,” he replies.

“What really?” Floch cuts in. “Well that explains the amazing rigatoni you made the other night.”

“Yeah it’s a Bodt family recipe.”

“Jeez Italian blood and he can cook. Why haven’t you introduced us sooner Connie?” Historia jibes playfully.

Everyone chuckles, but the way Floch snakes his arm around Marco’s waist doesn’t go unnoticed. Not by me at least.

“You want another drink?” I say to Armin, mainly so I have an excuse to turn around and keep my hands busy.

“Oh. No thanks. I think I need to pace myself a bit after beer po-”

“Naaah c’mon, have a Sailor Jerry’s with me. It’s really fucking good.”

Please. Any excuse not to turn back round.

“Alright,” they relent. “Just don’t make it very strong…I said not strong!”

“It’s not strong! That’s a normal measurement! I do work in a bar y’know,” I say, adding the coke and nudging Armin cheekily in the shoulder.

“You’ll put Springer’s out of business if you keep giving out measurements like that!” they smirk, shoving me back with their hip.

We fall into our own little conversation away from the others and have a proper catch up on everything – their PhD, my upcoming training, how Armin’s Grandpa is doing, my mam, Connie, Mikasa, anything and everything. It’s nice. I don’t get to talk much with just Armin anymore. Not like we used to anyway. And having their cute face to focus on helps me forget the others are even there...

“Oh god don’t ask this guy!”

...until Floch’s obnoxious voice diverts my attention.

“He works with toddlers for a living. I’m surprised he can even form full sentences!”

It’s a joke. It’s obviously a joke and everyone laughs, Marco included. But, when I notice him scratch the back of his neck, my blood boils. I know Marco can be sensitive about his job. He worries about people’s reactions and being judged for it. I’ve only known Marco six days and I know that already, so why the fuck doesn’t his boyfriend? He’s just using Marco’s job for a cheap laugh and putting him down in the process. And in front of his fucking friends no less. Unspoken rage prickles beneath my skin and I bite my lip. Floch smiles, apparently pleased with his little joke.

I will come over there and wipe that fucking grin off your stupid fucking face you dick.

I might be over-reacting and reading way too much into it but I can’t help it.

“Wanna go sit down?” Armin asks eyeing me warily.

“Sure.” I down the rest of my drink and quickly make another one.

Armin’s face twists when I make it half and half again, but they know better than to say anything. I follow them towards the living room door and I may or may not accidentally stumble into Floch on my way.

“Oops! Sorry mate,” I cover, patting him on the back (though smacking might be a more accurate description).

“S’alright bro no problem.”

I’m not your bro, you stupid ugly birdsnestofahairdoslymotherfucker!!

Look, I know.

I know I’m being childish but I’m too tipsy to care at this point and I decide to let my mind indulge in its unfounded hostility. Plus, convincing myself Floch is an arsehole is preferable to acknowledging what’s actually bothering me right now. I stubbornly push that thought away and look for another distraction.

I find it when I enter the living room, though it’s certainly not one I was expecting.

“What is this, a fucking hairdressers!?”

Eren and Historia are sat on the floor in front of the sofa with Mikasa and Ymir behind them, braiding their hair.

“You’re just jealous because your hair is nowhere near as fabulous as ours,” Historia replies smugly, sticking her tongue out at me.

I’m still tense from the conversation in the kitchen, but I can’t help softening a little at that. I give her a lop-sided grin before drawing in a long, steadying breath and let it out slowly as I settle into the chair opposite them with Armin. Watching them, I feel better already. The warm feeling I had earlier returns and dampens my anger.

I love that we still do childish shit like this. We’re all technically ‘adults’ now, with rent to pay and jobs to go to but we’re still just kids deep down. I know I am anyway. Fuck living up to my parent’s standards of married by 21, kids by 25 and happily ever fucking after. Didn’t work out so well for them did it? These people right here are all the commitment I need in my life. These ridiculous, infuriating, fierce, incredible, beautiful people.

Jesus, you get so sentimental when you’re drunk.

“Make my braid like Armin’s Mikasa! I need a twinsies selfie with them!” Eren says.

“Fuck me,” I snort. “How much have you had Jaeger?”

He replies with a giddy laugh.

I’ll take that to mean ‘a lot’ then!

“Ymir make mine like that too! Then we can have a triplet selfie! Eren can be the brown filling in our blonde sandwich.”

“Ooooh! Like Nutella!” Eren says seriously, like he’s just said something incredibly profound.

“Errrr,” Ymir starts, glancing between Mikasa’s progress and the back of Historia’s head. “Okay...sure.”

I zone out as I watch Mikasa’s quick fingers at work. I love having my hair played with.

Why isn’t mine long enough to braid! I pout.

“Okay done.”

The words have barely left Mikasa’s mouth when Armin dives onto the floor for the aforementioned ‘twinsies selfie’.

“You guys are ridiculous,” I laugh, watching the ludicrous faces they pull.

“Ridiculously adorable?” Armin grins.

“You wish.”

Eren takes no notice, already busy uploading the picture to Instagram.

“Aaaaaaaaand…hashtag gay nerds!” Eren cries, flipping his phone round to show Armin.

I splutter mid-sip. Mikasa and Historia both crack up at the combo of Eren’s comment and me making a dick of myself.

“C’mon Ymir,” Historia giggles. “Get a move on! I wanna be a gay nerd too!”

“Okay okay just, err…gimme a second.”

Her face is frowning in concentration. I’m not sure what the hell Ymir’s been doing this whole time, but Historia’s hair looks nothing like Eren’s. I think Historia senses she’s been lumbered with the dud hairdresser.

“Ymir, I know we’ve just met so don’t take this the wrong way…but do you have any fucking idea what you’re doing?”

Mikasa snickers as her and Ymir exchange complicit glances.

“Sorry sweetheart. I just wanted an excuse to get you between my legs.”

Historia’s jaw practically hits the floor and I lose it. Eren and Armin screech out a long ‘Haaaah!’ pointing at Historia’s stunned expression. Once I’ve caught my breath back, I lean forward to hi-five Ymir, tears starting to stream down my face. Where has this girl been all my life? Even Historia has to start laughing, though she can’t quite erase the shock from her face.

“Sorry,” she eventually responds. “but you need to be a bit better with your hands to get me between your legs.”

Jesus Christ, this just keeps getting better. Ymir isn’t fazed in the slightest, giving Historia a wink and a sly grin.

“Move over Jaeger,” Historia says as she plants herself in front of Mikasa.

“What the hell are you idiots screaming about?” Sasha chirps bounding into the living room with Marco in tow.

She’s dragging the poor guy along by the hand like she’s known him all her life. He’s smiling but he also looks vaguely terrified, eyes-wide as he staggers to keep up with Sasha. I expect Floch to follow close behind but he doesn’t materialise.

Sasha gasps dramatically when she see’s Armin, Eren and Historia’s hair. “Oh my god I love it! Me next Mikasa me next!”

She let’s go of Marco and squishes herself next to Historia. He looks at Eren and Armin, who are busy messing around with Snapchat filters, and then his eyes settle on me. I fidget a little in my seat to compensate for the somersaults in my stomach. He smiles broadly as he walks over to me and perches on the arm of the chair I’m sitting in.

“Alright?” he asks casually.

Our height difference brings my eyes directly level with his bicep and I’m so close to him, I can see a cluster of five freckles nestled on the inside of his arm.

“Here mate!” I jump up far too quickly, so quick he visibly flinches. “Sit yourself down,” I say gesturing to the chair.

“What? No no! I’m fine hones-”

“Nah c’mon you’re making me feel like a midget,” I cut him off, already using my hip to push him off the arm of the chair.

“Alright,” he chuckles, settling into the now vacant space.

Okay this is better. I don’t feel so claustrophobic now.

“Where’s Floch? Have we scared him off already?”

Please say yes.

“Ha, no he’s just outside on the phone.”

“Oh.”

Bit late to be getting a phone call.

“So, did you and the ‘touchy feelies’ get home okay last night?”

“Yeah but we got so lost because of my directions! I don’t drive so I only really know the bus route home and…”

I swear I am listening to begin with, but the rum really starts to kick in and my focus becomes hazy as I look down at him. I remember noticing how long his eyelashes were last night and my eyes are drawn to them again. They flick around animatedly as he tells his story, framing the deep sparkle of his warm eyes perfectly.

I zone back in when I’m needed. He asks if I know the canal. I hum in acknowledgement and he continues. One hand moves around as he mimes Bert’s sister trying to do a ‘million-point turn’ in a tiny alley way, but it’s his other hand that really distracts me. The one he’s left on his drink, playing with it absentmindedly, long fingers gently stroking up and down the glass.

“So yeah, I don’t think she’ll be offering me a lift again anytime soon. How ‘bout you and Connie? I noticed his bruise isn’t too bad.”

Crap. Time to stop daydreaming.

“Y-yeah fine thanks. We just jumped in a taxi. Thanks again for letting me tag along by the way. I had a really good night.”

“Yeah of course!” He smiles so wide his eyes crinkle. Another somersault flutters up to my sternum. “Like I said, I don’t know how I would’ve coped on my own with those two so I’m really glad you were there.”

He smiles softly and takes a sip of his drink. His tongue darts out over his bottom lip to catch a stray droplet and my gaze stops dead. It’s slightly bigger than the top lip, curvier too. The skin looks so soft but firm at the same time, like it would push back fervently if I-

“Hey!”

My eyes snap up and see Floch, hopping onto the opposite arm of the chair. He drapes one of his legs over Marco’s knee as he hands him a fresh drink. My warm, fuzzy feeling evaporates.

“Oh thanks!” Marco replies happily.

His eyes crinkle again as he smiles at his boyfriend and I have to look away. The room quietens as the ‘braidy bunch’ stagger into the kitchen to top up their drinks.

“Oh Jean I meant to ask. Will you guys be free on Tuesday? I really want to get an extra practise in before the gig.”

“Well Connie and I usually work on Tuesday nights but I think his dad is giving him the night off to make up for the extra shifts this week. Eren is usually free on a Tuesday too. You’ll just have to manage without me I’m afraid.”

“When’s your first gig again?” asks Floch.

“Friday,” Marco says anxiously.

“That soon? You sure you’ll be ready?”

Wow. Way to be fucking supportive arse face!

Careful Kirschtein. Reign it in.

I’m about to snap ‘of course he’ll be fucking ready!’ but think better of it and decide it’s safer to address Marco directly.

I’m about to snap ‘of course he’ll be fucking ready!’ but think better of it and decide it’s safer to address Marco directly.

“You’ll be fine Marco. You did great on Thursday and you’ve got two practices between now and Friday. Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah. I’m sure you’ll do great,” Floch states, his voice slightly firmer. There’s tension in the air now that I pray Marco doesn’t notice. “Where you guys playing again?”

Marco starts explaining where Springer’s is (as best as he can) but is quickly interrupted by thundering footsteps and a face that looks capable of murder.

“Jean Kirschtein!” Sasha storms towards me and lifts a bottle of Sailor Jerry’s up to my face. Shit. “Did you drink half of this?”

“Maybe…?” I say, giving her my best ‘adorable scamp’ face but anticipating a violent reaction.

“Want some more?” she barks, her face still livid.

Needless to say, I am confused.

“Erm…sure?” I stammer, scared she’s about to crack the bottle over my head.

“Right then!” she grabs me by the wrist and drags me over to the sofa.

Only then do I notice the two shot glasses in her other hand. She slams them down on the coffee table and wrenches the top off the bottle like she’s trying to strangle it. Her face is still burning with anger, so much so that the shots she pours slosh all over the table. I just sit there, stunned, watching the whole performance and wondering where the hell this is going.

She hands me a shot, clinks the glass too hard and yells, “Fucking cheers!” before throwing it down her neck.

I tentatively do the same with mine and then wait to see what the hell’s going to happen next.

“I have a question for you Jean Kirschtein!” she says grabbing the bottle as she starts the ritual again. “Why, pray tell me, does your gender feel the need to play silly childish games instead of just acting like a fucking adult?”

Marco and Floch take that as their cue to slip out of the room. I stare at her agog, “I…I’m sorry?”

“Yeah! So you fucking should be! Cheers!” she knocks back a second shot. “Like if you have something to say, just fucking say it you know? You’ve got a mouth. You’ve supposedly got a brain. So how about you try putting those two things together and fucking talk to me instead of all this bullshit!?”

And with that, she slumps back onto the sofa with a loud huff.

Okay. She’s clearly not talking about me.

Connie, what the shit have you done now?

“Okay, first of all,” I say, taking one of her hands in mine. “On behalf of my gender, I apologise. We are fucking idiots. Secondly, because we are fucking idiots, talking is not our forte. We are much better at acting crazy in the hopes that amazing women like you will be able to see through our bullshit and figure out what we really mean.”

She starts rubbing the back of my hand with her thumb.

“And third of all,” I lower my voice to make sure only she can hear, “whatever Connie’s done to make you this angry, I’d bet my life he feels a million times worse than you do right now knowing he’s upset you.”

It all comes out kind of slurred and I really hope that doesn’t make it seem less sincere.

“Why are we still like this Jean?” she says softly, still stroking my hand. “Me and Con. We’re not kids anymore so why are we still acting like it? I thought we would’ve grown up a bit by now. I thought things would be different when I came back, that we could be different, but nothings changed. Why can’t we just be adults about this?”

“Sasha, we’re at a house party, you’ve got your hair braided to match your friends and we’re both smashed on Sailor Jerry’s. What the hell gave you the idea that we could be adults?” I smile.

“Shut up Jean you know what I mean!” she laughs, leaning forward to slap my arm. “Ugh, actually I don’t even know what I mean anymore. You know what I mean?”

“W-what?” I laugh.

Then she laughs too and before long we’ve both totally cracked up into drunken giggles, clutching our bellies and rolling around on the sofa like idiots.

“I’ve missed you Jean!” she wheezes in between gasping breaths and the odd giggly aftershock.

“I’ve missed you too.”

And I really have, though I don’t realise just how much until now. I know I’m drunk, but I really do love Sasha. Yes, with her there’s always ‘Connie drama’, but she really knows how to make me laugh and she has a big heart.

We’re not the only ones giggling, I notice. Mikasa and Historia have just came scurrying in with matching mischievous smiles. They head straight to the TV, skidding down onto their knees and fiddling about with something I can’t see. Sasha and I exchange confused looks.

“What the hell are you two doing?” she asks.

Historia throws her a devilish grin and grabs the TV remote. When she switches it on I groan dramatically. Sasha on the other hand is so excited she leaps up and starts jumping up and down on the sofa.

“Oh my god are you freakin’ serious!? I haven’t played Just Dance in ages!”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, already anticipating how bad these dance moves are going to be.

“C’mon Jean dance with me!” Sasha yells tugging at my arm. I remain firmly planted on the sofa.

“Neeeeewwwwp!”

“Aw please!”

“I would but I’m afraid my moves are so sweet I’ll just make you look bad Sash!”

“Oh whatever Kirschtein!” she huffs throwing my arm back at me.

A few more people, no doubt wondering what the hell is drowning out Eren’s Spotify playlist, stick their heads round the door to see what the fuss is and pile into the room. Armin bounds over to join Sasha in selecting the first track. Ymir and Eld fill a couple of empty seats and sit back like they’re waiting for a show to begin.

Christ, do they want friggin' popcorn too?

“Fuck yesss!!” Eren screams with his arms in the air when he enters the room and realises what’s going on.

I can’t help but snicker.

This guy’s fucking wasted.

Marco soon returns with that big smile of his, followed by Floch and Connie, who appear to be having a rather animated discussion about something.

Whatever. At least talking to Floch will keep him out of Sasha's way before he does any more damage.

They head over to join me on the sofa. Marco, I’m glad to say, opts to sit right next to me and Floch is delegated to the opposite end next to Connie.

"What the hell are those two arguing about?" I ask.

"Oh, they're debating who’d be in their ultimate band. You just missed a pretty heated discussion on who was a better front man out of Freddie Mercury and Robert Plant."

"Are you actually serious!?" Connie suddenly cries, laughing exasperatedly.

Marco and I just look at him, waiting for an explanation.

"This guy would rather have Phil Collins on drums than Jon Bonham!" he says in disbelief, thumbing in Floch's direction.

"What!? Mate are you brain dead?"

It comes out sharper than I had intended, so I cover it with a laugh.

Seriously though is this kid actually fucking brain dead??

"Phil Collins is really underrated as a drummer!" argues Floch.

Connie now has his head in his hands. "You cannot sit there and tell me Phil Collins is a better drummer than Jon Bonham. You just can't!"

"Oh everybody says Jon Bonham is the best drummer," Floch says rolling his eyes.

"Because he is!" Connie and I both say in unison.

This fucking guy. It's like he's going out of his way to be different in some weird attempt to appear more interesting.

"I'm telling you, Phil Collins is underappreciated. The guy's got skills."

"If that were true," I argue, "the Tarzan soundtrack would've been a hell of a lot more interesting!"

"Hey don't be knocking Tarzan!" Marco jibes, playfully elbowing me in the side.

Connie doesn’t even react to my comment, continuing to argue with Floch about the (non-existent) merits of Genesis.

Then in a quiet voice Marco adds, "He was my first boy crush."

I splutter and snort so loud and so unattractively that the people squished on the adjacent sofa cock their heads at me. Marco starts giggling at my reaction. I think he might finally be drunk. Connie pays no attention, passionately discussing guitar players now, but Floch is only half listening, narrowing his eyes at my and Marco's little exchange. It shouldn't make me happy but it does.

I excuse myself to go for a piss and make myself another drink. After two rather sizable measures of Sailor Jerry’s I decide to be sensible (I must be getting old) and pour myself a small amount of the Jack Daniels I brought.

“Hey,” a gentle voice says behind me. Marco. I feel heat rising up the back of my neck.

“H-Hey!” I stutter. “D’you want some Jack Daniels?”

“Oh, yeah thanks! I said I’d get a drink for Floch. Is it okay if I make two?”

I wonder whether I can spit in Floch’s without Marco noticing?

“Yeah ‘course.”

“Thanks. I’ve left those two arguing about bass players now. I couldn’t get a word in edgeways.”

“What, they had an amazing bass player sat next to them and neither of them thought to ask your opinion?”

He smiles sweetly at the compliment and looks away.

“Yeah well, they’re pretty engrossed in their Lemmy vs Peter Hook conversation.”

“So whose side are you on then? Lemmy or Hook?”

“Neither. Flea all the way.”

“I fucking love Flea. Good choice. Alright then, what about the rest of your band? Who would you have on drums?”

“Dave Grohl.”

“Interesting. Front man?”

“Billy Corgan.”

“Ooooh not Cobain?”

“I mean if I could have two he’d definitely be the other one but Smashing Pumpkins are my favourite band so I gotta go with Corgan.”

“Fair enough. And guitarist?”

“George Harrison.”

“Oh!”

“What?” he smiles, curious at my reaction.

“I mean, I'm completely on board with George Harrison. I just assumed you’d have someone from the 90s like the rest of your band.”

“I do love the 90s. Like, I know I was born then, but if I could go back in time that’s definitely where I’d go. Seattle grunge scene, classic Lollapalooza, BritPop. All that.”

Part of me is kind of mad at Marco. He could’ve told me he was really into Van Halen and Journey, but no. He had to tell me about his amazing taste in music and love for 90s alternative bands. Like I needed another reason to like him.

“How ‘bout you? Where would you travel back to?” he asks.

“Hmm. I don’t think I could choose one decade. I’d probably want to see a bit of everything from each one. Although my favourite bands are Deftones, Nirvana and Pumpkins so maybe I would join you in the 90s.”

“Oh! Cool. Well, if I ever invent time travel it’s a date,” he says grabbing his drinks.

I hang back a step so he doesn’t see me blush.

We head back into the living room to resume watching our friends make dickheads of themselves. I have to say, watching Eren and Armin (with matching braids no less) dance in unison to Nicki Minaj’s Starships might be the campest thing I’ve ever seen, though Ymir and Historia doing the YMCA give them a run for their money.

Nearly everyone gets dragged up by Sasha, Mikasa or Historia at some point. Even I give into Sasha’s pleas eventually. Though in my opinion, we fucking NAIL the routine for Timber, even if I do collapse in a fit of giggles when she jumps on my back.

After a while, everyone is worn out and slumped around the living room. But when Eren bursts in holding two acoustic guitars, a new wave of energy seems to ripple through us all. He thrusts one into my hand and we perch ourselves on two stools, dragged in from the kitchen, at the front of the room.

After a bit of tuning, he grins at me. “Blister?” is all he says, and I smile back nodding.

If I had to choose a song that was ‘our song' it would definitely be Blister in the Sun. It was the first song we bonded over back when we were learning how to be each other's friend. Connie had recently passed his test and we were out for a drive when it came on the radio. It turned out Eren loved it as much as I did. Whenever I hear it now, I picture both of us in Connie’s back seat, loudly singing our hearts out and finger drumming.

I count us in and we start playing. Most people quickly pick up on the song and join in with the chorus, while Connie enthusiastically bangs out the beat on the coffee table. I have to laugh at how drunk Eren is, hitting the odd bum note and adding in over the top flourishes to certain chords. It’s imperfectly brilliant in an odd sort of way, like watching At the Drive in live or something.

Fleetwood Mac gets a suitably drunken sing-a-long next, before we play some classic Kinks and Last Night by The Strokes. I’m in the mood for something heavier and suggest Celebrity Skin, which I follow with Nirvana’s Sliver. Eren and I sing/scream a bit too enthusiastically and my throat is ragged by the end of it. I decide we all need something more laid-back now, if for no other reason than to give my voice a rest. Although it does have a certain sexy roughness to it now if I do say so myself!

I glance around the room as I grab a quick swig of my JD & coke and my eyes fall on Marco, chatting to Mikasa and Historia. He laughs at something Historia says and the way his eyes squint as he rocks back in his seat is so genuine and carefree.

I know what I want to play next.

I start tapping out a beat on the body of the guitar. The chatter around me grows a little quieter and I start strumming the opening bars of 1979. I watch as Marco stops to look up, instantly recognising that I’m playing the Pumpkins. My face splits into a goofy grin but I don’t care. I don’t care if he knows it’s for him. I want him to know.

Eren and Connie join in, giving the song more presence, and I swear it’s as though an invisible blanket of calm settles over us all. Everyone singing along quietly with serene expressions and smiling gently.

Floch comes back in and sits on the arm of the sofa next to Marco, who’s so lost in the song (I’m happy to say), he jumps a little when Floch brushes against him. My eyes are drawn to them again when I notice Floch’s arm snaking around Marco’s shoulders and I know I should look away but I don’t, too eager to see how Marco reacts.

I really wish I had.

Just as Marco looks up to give Floch a smile, Floch tugs him forward by his shirt and ducks his head down for a kiss. Marco’s eyes go wide at first, clearly caught off-guard, but then he just melts into it, his eyes fluttering closed while his hand comes up to rest on his boyfriend’s waist.

It’s like a stinging slap in the face and the shock of it makes my hands stutter on the fret board for a moment. I stare straight down and try to concentrate on what note comes next but honestly, I want nothing more than for this fucking song to be over. It's ruined now. I just wanted this song to remind Marco of…well, it doesn’t fucking matter anymore because now all he’ll think of is the time Floch kissed him so sweetly it made his head spin.

I speed up towards the end of the song and finish with a loud strum. Thank fuck it's over. I curse my eyes for flitting up again, knowing fine well I’m going to see something I don’t want to. Their lips are no longer locked together but the way they’re both gazing at each other is somehow worse and I wonder how my neck and ears can burn so intensely when icy shards are settling in my stomach.

“Here Con you take over for a bit,” I say thrusting the guitar in Connie’s direction, purposely not making eye contact.

Connie might be a few fries short of a Happy Meal but he always knows when somethings up and I don’t want to get into things with him that I haven’t even processed myself yet. I sway a little on my feet as I head to the kitchen, but I feel stone cold sober. My buzz is gone, and I desperately need to sink into oblivion.

Annie and Armin are chatting at one side of the kitchen when I enter. I give them a polite smile and am so grateful when they carry on their conversation instead of engaging me in a new one. Grabbing a tumbler, I pour myself some Jack Daniels. No longer seeing the point of mixers I take a straight sip and try to concentrate on the sharp burn it creates at the back of my throat.

My forehead starts pulsing and I take some deep breaths to prevent it becoming an all out throb, but the sharp fluorescent lights in here are doing me no favours. Connie and Eren have stopped playing and the sound of chatter in the next room grows louder. A bass line starts thumping as the music is turned back up again. The vibration of it makes my skin crawl and my head’s getting worse.

I take another sip but it does nothing. The sound of laughter wafting in from the living sounds more like screeching and my head hammers with the sharpness of it. I need a moment alone. I gulp down the remainder of my drink. Staggering out the kitchen, I head straight for the end of the hallway and open the door to Marlowe’s room, which I suppose is now the spare room.

I flick the light on and wince at how bright it is. There’s no lampshade, just a lone bulb casting a hideous white glare onto everything. I fumble about with a bedside lamp and smack the light back off as quick as I can.

It’s a bit weird seeing the bed made up but then I figure Eren must’ve done it in case anyone wants to crash. I could simply sit on said bed (like a normal person) but I don’t, opting to sit on the floor and wedge myself between the side of the bed and the radiator. Well, I say wedge, there’s just enough room to stretch my legs out. I quickly retract them, however, and bring my knees up to my chest. I find it helps my breathing and my head isn’t pounding anymore, although now it’s swimming. Shit. I am really fucking drunk.

Part of me wants to just sit here and think about absolutely nothing, but Marco and Floch keep flashing in front of my eyes and I know it’s no use. I need to be honest with myself.

Almost hugging Marco, my disproportionate and fervent hatred of Floch, purposely playing the Pumpkins, my reaction to that kiss.

No denying it son, you have a major case of the hots for Marco.

I take a deep steadying breath and let it out slowly.

Okay. It's okay. You’ve had crushes before and they never last long. You just need to ride this one out like all the others. A few weeks of subtle eye-banging and extra masturbation to get it out of your system and you'll be fine.

It’s true, the only people I’ve ever fell hard for were Mikasa and Hitch. Everyone else has been a mere flash in the pan. Even my infatuation with Armin lasted less than a month. Granted, the fact that Marco has an absolute bell-end of a boyfriend is gonna make this harder but I'll get through it. Yep. Wait it out. Good plan. And in the meantime…

“Ugh…” I groan, resting my head on my knees. “I am so fucked.”

The door creaks open behind me and I hear soft footsteps padding across the floor. I don’t need to turn my head, I already know who it is.

“Hey Armin.”

“Hey! What you hiding in here for?” they ask slumping down onto the floor next to me.

“Just had a bit of a headache is all. It’s getting better though.”

“Nawww,” they coo.

A hand wraps gently around my shoulders before coaxing my head down to rest on their shoulder. I hum contentedly as they start playing with my hair and let my eyes drift closed.

“Hmm. Thanks Armin.”

“No problem. You sure it’s just your headache bothering you?”

You already know the answer to that.

No point insulting them by lying. Armin can always see through it anyway.

“Yeah I’m okay. Just…Do you ever, like…worry about being alone?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like…that you’ll never find someone and even if you did it would eventually turn to shit anyway. That we're all destined to be lonely.”

Jesus I am definitely shitfaced.

“Hmm. Yeah. A lot actually.”

“Really?” I say, looking up at them as best I can without moving my head.

They continue stroking my hair, their cheek resting on the side of my head.

“Yeah of course. I think everyone does you know? It’s scary not knowing what your life is going to turn out like and who you’ll have to share it with. But..”

They lift their head and look down at me.

“Just because it doesn’t work out for some people Jean, doesn’t mean you’re destined to repeat their mistakes.”

They always get straight to the heart of the problem. My parents never found lasting happiness = maybe I never will either.

I sit up now and look at them earnestly. Their hand falls from my hair but stays on my shoulder.

“So what do you do in the meantime? Like, how do you not worry about it?”

It’s unfair of me to ask, to expect them to have all the answers, but Armin’s always been so wise, like my own little personal Buddha.

They sigh and gaze wistfully at nothing in particular, thinking about what they want to say.

“There’s no easy answer Jean. I think you just have to put yourself in the hands of the universe and see where it takes you. It probably sounds cliché to say ‘stay positive’ but if you go through life assuming you’ll never find someone then you probably won’t. I just try to be open to the idea without fixating on it. Live in the moment, you know?”

How do they always do this? Even when they’re telling me things that I kind of know already, they still manage to make me feel a million times better.

I smile softly, “Yeah I guess you’re right.”

“Don’t worry about things you don’t already know. You can’t predict the future so don’t try. And anyway, you’ll never be alone with us bunch of misfits around to drive you crazy,” they laugh. “And you’ll always have me whether you like it or not.”

“Yeah, right back at you.”

I don’t realise just how far I’ve leaned in towards them until my eyes lock onto the starburst pattern of their pale blue irises. I know I should stop, but I keep falling forward. Armin does the same, and the way their eyes flit down to my lips doesn’t go unnoticed. The hand they’ve left on my shoulder grips fractionally tighter. I let my eyes close and continue falling until I find what I’m searching for.

My lips find theirs and I kiss them, softly, barely there, before pulling back. I expect that to be it, for Armin to shift away from me and laugh awkwardly but they don’t. They move forward and kiss me back, firmly. I let my eyes drift closed and focus on their soft lips, their delicate nose brushing my cheek. The hand on my shoulder slides up to caress the back of my head, as I let my fingertips ghost up the side of their arm. I cup Armin’s face and kiss them back more fervently.

I lick softly over Armin's bottom lip and feel their breathing quicken. There’s the taste of something sweet and sharp on their lips. I chase it, sliding my tongue into their mouth, earning me the tiniest little hum. I quickly sink into a fog of escapism and relish every moment. I can feel myself getting pulled deeper with every swipe of Armin’s tongue, but with it, the knowledge that if I allow myself to come to my senses – even for just a second – the spell will be broken.

No, not yet. Sink with me Armin. Stay with me a little longer.

They tug gently on my shaggy undercut and I can’t help the soft moan that tumbles from my lips onto theirs. I let my fingers trail from Armin’s face down to their waist and grip firmly, before moving again to their thigh. I knead the firm flesh with my thumb as I plummet, deeper and deeper into the soft heat of our kiss. My hand shifts, sliding up closer, closer still, almost up to-

“Jean wait,” Armin pants, pulling away from me.

The spell is broken.

They don’t have to say anything else, I know it’s over, but I listen anyway. “If this is what you need I’m here, but…I get the feeling that, this isn’t really what you want?”

Trust Armin to know me better than I know myself. I could play along with my heart instead of my head, convince myself that I really do want this, but my head wins out in the end. Armin’s right. This isn’t what I want, I’m just searching for a distraction after realising I’m most definitely lusting after Marco.

Hang on, what was that? I stop and process what they’ve just said to me - ‘If this is what you need I’m here’.

Fuck. Was I really just about to throw myself at Armin for the sake of needing a ‘distraction’? With no regard for their feelings or how it could affect things between us?

Christ. When did you become such a self-absorbed fucking shit?

The realisation that I just came so close to using Armin for my own selfish reasons knocks me sick. What the fuck was I thinking?

“Fuck, Armin I…shit,” I don’t even know what to say. I just put my head in my hands.

“Hey! Jean c’mon it’s okay.”

Arrgggh!! No, you’re making them feel bad! They haven’t done anything wrong!

“No, Armin it’s not okay.” I look directly at them. “I am so fucking sorry.”

There’s not a single hint of anger or disappointment in their face when they look at me. They just smile.

“Jean there’s nothing to be sorry for, alright? We’re just a bit drunk. If anything, I’m more shocked it’s taken us this long to have a drunken kiss. Two hot friends who’ve known each other for how many years? I’m offended it’s taken you this long to make a move,” they joke nudging me in the shoulder.

“I don’t deserve you Armin.”

I don’t. I really don’t. I could’ve royally fucked up our friendship just now and they’re letting me off the hook. Not only that but they’re still making me feel better, painting a smile back on my unworthy face.

“Sure you do. C’mon let’s go see what the others are up to. You know how dangerous it is to leave them unsupervised for too long.”

“Yeah. Yeah okay.”

I let Armin help me to my feet, like so many times before, and squeeze their hand in an unspoken vow to never allow myself to do something so stupid ever again.

[googleitlol]

My Beloved: Ch. 4

Duplication

"I'm so confused." I grumbled, my head slamming onto the table. "My thoughts are mushy, I need tea and I'm too lazy to go to the harbour."

Pigsy's footsteps approached the table, and I heard the man take a seat. "What's bothering you?" He asked, leaning his arm on the table.

I looked up at my friend. "Okay, so I've been going with MK to Flower Fruit Mountain, right? Well, whenever I go, Monkey King is nice to me."

"...Is that not good?" Pigsy frowned, seeming a bit confused.

I shook my head. "No, I mean— he's a good guy, yeah. He's been helping MK a lot, it's just... it feels like he's overly nice to me. Like he's going out of his way to be extra friendly and it's kind of freaking me out." I explained, feeling drained just by thinking about it.

"His teaching style is definitely... interesting... but the way he acts around me versus MK is really different and I don't know why." I sighed, my friend putting a hand on my back in reassurance.

He patted my back a bit. "It's not because he, I don't know, likes you a bit?" He inquired, making me shake my head.

"It's not simp nice, more like, 'being on my best behaviour' nice." I elaborated, looking down at my hands resting on the table.

I let out a sigh. "I think... I think Monkey King knows something about me. Something pre-amnesia but he hasn't outright said anything."

"So you think he's hiding something about your past?" Pigsy grumbled, seeming irritated in my place.

I shrugged. "Maybe, I'm still not sure. It's not like the past matters that much, I know that! But I still can't help but feel a smidge of curiosity and I don't know how to ask him."

Pigsy crossed his arms. "That's easy. If you ever want someone to talk, the first thing you gotta do is give them a good meal."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah?"

"Of course! The food gives them a false sense of security. You make their belly feel all warm and nice, then bam! They're ready to spill their guts out to you." He explained, making me smile.

"Do their guts spill with the truth or all the food you just gave them?" I smirked , making the pig growl.

He grimaced, walking back into the kitchen. "I try givin' advice, and they never listen."

"Wait, Pigsy, I'm sorry! It was a joke." I got up, following after him. Not a moment after did MK walk in, a tired smile plastered onto his face.

I sighed at the sight. "Okay, Pigsy, I'm heading up now with MK. See you tomorrow."

"Night." He called from the kitchen as I greeted my friend, the two of us heading back upstairs.

I opened the door for my little brother, the boy stretching his arms with a tired yawn. As of recently, the boy had fallen into a bit of a routine. An exhausting routine, at that.

Every day he would train with his mentor, deliver noodles for Pigsy, paint Sandy's boat and return home just in time to party the night away with Mei. In conclusion, he was not resting.

Aware of who would soon be arriving to drag the boy's soul away, I stood over him with crossed arms. "Bed. Now."

"What?" He frowned, his surprise giving him a quick burst of energy.

"You've lost too much sleep recently so you're going to bed now." I told him, my voice stern. "And if Mei comes through that door wanting to go to the arcade, you're telling her you need the sleep."

MK rolled his eyes. "What about you? You joined us at every party we've gone to this week— you even got the security guards to join the mosh pit last night!"

"And being the life of the party has been draining, so I'm recovering tonight by going to bed early." I smirked, thinking back to how the three of us started a conga line throughout the entire dance floor. Good times.

MK looked away. "But what if Mei is just by herself then?"

I watched his face lower and I shook my head. He had such a big heart. "It's okay to focus on your needs, too, MK. You don't have to please everyone when you're barely holding it together."

"Hey, I am perfectly togeth..." The boy yawned loudly. "...together." I raised an unimpressed brow, one hundred percent convinced. Before I could lecture him any further, however, there was a knock at the door.

He looked at me. And I looked at him. And he looked at me. And I looked at him. And he looked at me. And I looked at him.

He beat me to the door.

"Hey, Mei! Ready to party, let's go!" He laughed a little too loud, taking his friend's arm and sprinting away from the apartment.

I chased them to the door. "MK! Uuugh, you're such a— UUUGGGHHHH!" Whatever! He can be sleep deprived. When he's out delivering noodles and falls asleep at the wheel, I'll be able to tell him 'I told you so' at the hospital once he crashes.

With the kids gone, I had the place to myself. There wasn't much else to do but go to sleep early, catch up on the rest I very much needed...

It was quiet in the apartment without MK. Which was fine, really. But looking around my home, all alone, there wasn't much to stop that aching feeling in my chest from creeping in. Yeah, I just needed to sleep, that way it won't feel as bad.

Then there was a knock at the fire escape.

Looking out, I was surprised to find Monkey King. After making eye contact, he opened up the window. "Sup? Forgot to give you this earlier." He tossed my daily plum for me to catch, making me reach out quickly to catch it.

The aching in my chest slowly dissipated. "Oh, thanks." I hummed, a little surprised by his sudden visit.

Monkey King nodded, looking back out over the city. "Yup, guess I'll see you tomorrow..."

"Wait!" I reached for his arm, the monkey looking down at me with wide eyes. This was a perfect opportunity. "I wanted to ask about something, maybe you could help me with?"

Monkey King cocked his head to the side. "Like what?"

"Uh, back at the Weather Station, I made, like, your staff. It wasn't really your staff, it was all white, like— a, uh...." I struggled to remember what Red Son had called it.

"A False Staff?" I gave the king a surprised look at his words, not missing the hint of something else in his voice, I couldn't exactly tell what it was yet.

I nodded nonetheless. "Yeah, exactly. But I haven't been able to do it again."

The simian frowned, leaning on the railing of the fire escape while I stepped out with him. "I'm assuming this thing was summoned during a fight, right?" He furrowed his brows when I nodded.

"Hmm... you've seen my staff in action before, maybe an adrenaline boost from the fight is what activated the power?" He theorized, sitting cross legged while balancing on his tail.

I nodded in thought, I guess that's what happened. "But I've been in a bunch of fights and that's never happened before, it was only with the staff."

"Well, my staff isn't like other weapons." The monkey smirked. "It'd make sense that you wanted one of your own."

I raised a brow. "Ha ha." A chill ran through the air, making my arms wrap around myself to preserve any heat I could. My eyes trailed up to the roof of the building, and I smirked.

"I'm getting an idea."

Curious, Monkey King followed me to the roof. I peered over the edge, my smirk growing. "All I need is an adrenaline rush, right?"

The monkey frowned. "Don't tell me you're gonna..."

"I'm gonna do it."

"Of course you are."

I sprinted off the building, jumping off the edge and landing flat on my face. Monkey King laughed out loudly at my expense, and I slowly looked up to see him falling back from amusement.

After taking a few moments for him to calm down, the simian floated down to me on his somersault cloud. "It's not much of a rush when you know heights can't kill you."

"Yeah, I noticed." I grumbled, annoyed with my failure.

The simian shook his head a little and helped me up onto my feet, his eyes focusing on the ring on my finger before taking me back up to the fire escape. "I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually."

He turned to leave, and I knew I needed to act fast. "Uh, Monkey King!"

He looked back at me, eyebrow raised. "MK went out to go party with Mei, would you be okay with hanging out for a bit?" At my request, his eyes widened by only a smidge.

Monkey King chuckled nervously, not something you heard often from the Great Sage. "I don't know, I don't wanna bother you anymore at home."

"Come on, just for a little?" I pushed, smiling warmly at the monkey.

He looked down, his eyes shifting to find anything that wasn't me before meeting my eyes again. "I mean, I guess I could. For a little bit."

"Nice." I grinned, pulling him back into the apartment. He stumbled in, standing up to his full height and looking around awkwardly. I'm not sure if he's ever really been in our living room before.

As he scanned the apartment, I stepped into the tiny kitchen. "I can make some food if you want, maybe we can watch some TV."

Monkey King quickly waved his hands. "Oh, no need for food. I think there's a marathon on right now, though. One for Monkey King: The Animated Series." He quickly hopped onto the couch, turning on the cable.

I watched with a small frown, looking down at the stove. "Maybe some popcorn, then?"

"Sounds good." Okay, maybe popcorn could work.

Shoving a pack into the microwave, I sat on the couch in preparation for the snacks to be done popping. While we waited, I cut the plum he had brought in half, handing the simian a piece before taking a bite of my own.

"You know, I'm an executive producer for this show." He leaned back as the microwave beeped.

I rolled my eyes a little at the comment. "Of course you are, makes sense."

He nodded, his usual smugness beginning to show as I gave him a bowl before munching on my own. "I gave my character's VA a couple of tips too, some material to pull inspiration from." He pulled a strand of hair from his head, tossing it into the air.

The hair became a stack of notecards for me to catch. With a slight frown, I read over each of them. "No way... MK got his catchphrase from you, too?!"

That made him laugh. "Here comes... Monkey King!" He said it, nearly in time with his animated double on the screen. "I used to say it all the time in fights. It always annoyed everyone else, though."

"Unbelievable." I scoffed, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. A yawn escaped my tired lips, and I quickly covered my mouth. "Sorry."

Monkey King raised an eyebrow. "I'm not that boring, am I?"

"No, of course not! I'm just a little tired." I explained.

"If you're tired, why'd you ask me to hang out?" The monkey furrowed his brows, making me gulp.

I chuckled a bit. "Is it bad to have just wanted to hang out?" I shrugged, leaning my head back on the couch.

"...I guess not."

We grew quiet after that, paying attention to the show. The episodes flew by, making us laugh at some parts, others making us lean on the edge of our seats.

During the scene with Tang Sanzang and the queen from the women’s kingdom, my poor attempt at delaying another yawn failed. Monkey King glanced at me with a sigh. "Alright, I think it's time I left..."

"No! I'm just cold!" I argued, getting up abruptly. "I just get sleepy when I'm cold. Do you want a blanket? I'm getting us blankets." I quickly ran to the hall closet, grabbing both a thicker and thinner blanket for Monkey King and myself.

MK preferred the thicker more heavy blankets, but they made me uncomfortable, so I had some thinner ones for myself. "There. Here you go." I handed the blanket to Monkey King, who smiled a bit as he wrapped himself into the fabric hug.

I sat next to him, laying the blanket over me lightly. The monkey deadpanned. "That's keeping you warm enough?"

"Yes..." I frowned, hugging myself under the covers.

Monkey King rolled his eyes. "Here, use the one that you gave me. It'll keep you warm."

"No, it's fine." I shook my head. "I prefer this one." The monkey casted me with a confused look before shrugging and turning back to the TV.

After a while, I looked back at him. How do I bring it up? Should I wait for a commercial break? Maybe until he finishes the popcorn. He needs a full stomach or something, right?

My eyes grew heavy as I continued to plot. Maybe the end of the episode would be better. While the theme song of the next episode plays I can bring up something subtly. Maybe ask how he knew about the whole False Weapon thing...

~~~~

The Monkey King jumped a little as he felt a head slide onto his shoulder. Looking down, a small smile etched onto his face as he saw his friend had fallen asleep. She snored softly, making him chuckle. This was all so nice. Being able to spend time together again, and not as a bird. It was nice... but it was wrong.

...What was he thinking? Staying up late binging shows like it was okay. It wasn't. He knew it wasn't. Visiting her in his bird form was enough, it was as close as he had to get. Why did she have to follow MK to the mountain?!

The monkey clenched his fist, his eyes shut tight as he thought back to those days. The Brotherhood, his old friends... everything went wrong the day she left.

He wanted to keep his distance from the girl. Stay an arms-length away so he could make sure she was okay and not have to get mixed up in her new life. Now look at where he was. He didn't deserve to be her friend again.

With a sigh, Wukong turned off the TV, scooping the girl into his arms and carrying her to her room. There were days he considered telling her everything. Their old friendship, their old friends, her old... whatever they were, bleh.

But looking at her now, sleeping peacefully in her home, the home she made for herself, he couldn't do that to her. Learning the truth would only leave her with more stress. She was content now, with her new friends. Besides, who knew how she'd react if he told her the truth.

No, he'd keep the secret. Ignorance is bliss, and the longer she stayed ignorant, the happier she'd be. The longer she'd stay his friend, his oldest friend that has yet to hate him.

That's how it would stay.

~~~~

When I stirred from my sleep, there was a plum on my nightstand. Blinking the remains of drowsiness from my eyes, the previous night returned to me. With a groan, I rolled over to smother my face into my pillow. I was so preoccupied with how to ask Monkey King about what he knows, I fell asleep!

Not much to do now, I guess. Taking the plum, I got ready for the day. I had really slept in, it was nearly 11:30 once I had woken up. By the time I got into the kitchen to make breakfast, a surprising sight awaited me. MK was standing over the stove, the delicious aroma of jian bing filling the apartment.

The scene left me stunned. "MK? What are you doing, kid?"

My voice alerted the boy, who smiled at my presence. "Hey, sis! I made your favourite." I walked over to see the boy was doing a fairly decent job with the food, it surprised me. MK wasn't a bad cook, but he wasn't the greatest either.

"Aren't you going to be late for your shift?" I frowned while the boy put the breakfast into a dish for me.

"I got the day off." He explained, guiding me by my shoulders to our table. "You were right, I should be taking my rest more seriously. So I thought we could spend the day together."

My heart melted from his little smile. "Aww, MK, that sounds wonderful. We can have a pyjama day!"

"PYJAMA DAY!" He shouted, jumping into the air and making me laugh. The day was spent lazing around, versing each other in gaming tournaments, me kicking his butt in Monkey Mech, and doing some art together.

Having a day to ourselves felt nice. It was years ago since we had enough time to do stuff like this, back when MK was still in primary school and hadn't started working yet. Even then, he was so creative in everything he did. Whether it was painting, colouring, writing his own Monkey King stories, his creativity always shone.

...Maybe I could find some of those old Monkey King fanfics. It'd be funny to read them to the legend himself, probably inflate his ego even more while embarrassing my poor little brother. Sometimes a little teasing was necessary, it was amusing too.

The day came and went in a flash, and I was slowly lulled to sleep on the couch, MK already passed out with his head falling off the couch and his legs in the air. The house was a mess now but we could just clean it in the morning. Today was a lazy day, we could go back to work and stuff tomorrow.

The next morning, I woke before my brother. It was relatively early, so I began cleaning up the mess from our previous day to get ready for the rest of the morning. Monkey King flew by with his daily plum, and after eating it together I began making breakfast for MK and I.

He was still passed out on the couch. The boy wasn't still this tired, was he? We just spent a full day relaxing, we even went to bed early and everything. He had to get up for work.

"C'mon, kid." I shook his shoulders lightly, which only prompted him to snore. "Seriously, you have to get to work."

The boy grumbled, struggling out of my hands and turning over on the couch. "I got the day off."

"Again?" I laughed. There was no way, I could barely believe when Pigsy gave him the day off yesterday, but two? Inconceivable. In no possible case would Pigsy ever give two consecutive days off. "Nice try, now get off your lazy butt and get going."

"Nooooooo..." He groaned as I began to pull him off the couch. Said couch potato grabbed onto the furniture in an attempt to stay there.

I tugged at his legs. "You have to go to work, MK! You're gonna give Pigsy heart failure."

Then, to make me doubt whether or not I was still sleeping, MK bursted into the house. But MK was on the couch? But MK was at the door? But MK was on the couch??

And he was half-bald???

In a panic, the balding MK waved his arms around and the other poofed away— he turned into hair?! What the hell?! "What in the flying fu—"

"Sorry, Li!" The only remaining MK scrambled to apologize as he began to explain how he discovered how to make clones.

His rambling made me nod. "Mystic monkey business?"

"Mystic monkey business." He nodded, making me sigh. Of course. "How many did you make?"

The blank stare he gave me told me enough. That, and half the hair he no longer had. Good thing I knew someone who could get us a wig.

~~~~

Once the rest of the clones were dealt with, Mei joined MK and I back at the apartment. It was still a mess, just like how we left it. "What do you feel like watching?" Mei asked from the kitchen as MK sat back on the couch.

"Oh! What about Monkey King: The Animated Series?" He chirped, looking back to us as I joined him and took a seat.

I shook my head at the suggestion. "I binged half of it with Monkey King a few nights ago."

MK struck me with the most offended stare I've ever seen. "Monkey King was here? In our apartment?! And you didn't tell me!!!?"

"Funny, if you listened to me and took the night off from partying, you might've been able to join us." I leaned back on the couch with a grin. It was fun to see him act like this. Did I sometimes feel a little evil teasing him like this? Yes, but it was oh-so-worth it.

The boy groaned, falling to his side dramatically. "Did you at least make sure the apartment was all clean and stuff?"

"MK, my sweet forgetful child." I fixed him with a deadpan look, raising a single brow. "Monkey King's here every morning."

The apartment was quiet for a moment, the boy fixing me with a blank stare. "...Oh, yeah. I forgot."

His admittance had gotten Mei to cackle, myself laughing at his reaction. He was just so... ugh! I would protect him at all costs, he's just too pure. I reached over to pat the boy on the head. "Never change, kid. Never change." MK made a fuss as he swatted my hand away from him.

Even if the MK I spent my day with yesterday was a clone, it was still MK. With how busy things have gotten, I was happy I could take some time to be with him more. He seemed so happy with all the changes in our lives as of late, but I was content to spend time like how we would before all this mystic monkey business started.

...Monkey King. If it was really important, he'd say something, right? Whatever it was that he was keeping to himself, it probably didn't matter that much anymore. I'm a different person now, and I have everything I need.

My curiosity could remain unsatisfied, I don't need to know.

Word Count: 3871

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[storiesbyrhi]

Yes pls to part 2.

- Metallica anon 🤟🏼

Ask and ye shall receive. This is also for @delusionalsunsets who also green-lit the second part.

No warnings. Just more vibes.

Drabble 002 (part 2) (here's part 1) 869 words

When you got home after school on Friday, you half expected to be grounded by your dad for having even a vague connection to Eddie Munson. However, you walked into the kitchen to find him sitting at the table with Eddie’s uncle.

“Hey, kid,” your dad greeted. “Heard you’re going to Metallica after all?”

You asked no questions, only offering a fountain of thank yous, and an offer to get them fresh beers from the garage fridge.

It took you all night, then all Saturday morning to pick an outfit. You psyched yourself out by trying to find something you thought Eddie would be into. In the end, you just went with clothes that felt comfortable and made you feel like you.

“You look… real cute,” Eddie said when you answered the door at midday, on the dot.

“Cute?” you repeated, looking down.

“Is cute bad? ‘Cause I got a whole vocabulary of words,”

“Save it, Munson,” your dad said, coming to the door. “Wayne’s a good man. I’m trusting his word here. I want you guys home straight after the show,”

“Yes, sir. Heavy metal and nothin’ else. Swear to god,” Eddie replied, almost standing to attention.

After a hug goodbye, you were following Eddie to his van. He opened the door for you, laughing when you pulled a face.

“I told you. I’m a gentleman.”

The drive to the city was long, a couple of hours at least, but it went by fast. Eddie had a slew of questions for you, and when your nerves settled, you for him. He was easy to talk to. Fun to get to know. A joy to be around.

Eddie knew a good burger joint, and paid for your meal despite your objections. As the waitress walked away from the table with a good tip, Eddie leaned across it and wiped sauce off the corner of your mouth. You watched him suck it from his thumb and felt short of breath.

The line was already around the block for Metallica, but both you and Eddie were buzzing with energy, high off the atmosphere. The sun set and the doors were opened. Eddie took your hand as he navigated the crowds, asking how far into the mosh you felt comfortable being.

For the first few songs Eddie was by your side, but as the crowd grew more chaotic, he pulled you to stand in front of him. You were safe in his arms, the pressure of him behind you a grounding force.

“You good?” he yelled in your ear, yet it still sounded like a whisper against the stadium’s speakers.

He kept doing, kept asking if you were good, and is this okay, and do you need anything. He was like a personal assistant, bodyguard, and boyfriend all at once.

Metallica were amazing. So fucking cool and loud and fast and everything you could have imagined and more. But it wasn’t the men on stage that were the true object of your adoration.

With only a song or two to go, Eddie took hold of your shoulders and turned you on the spot. He pulled you close, and asked, “You want a better view, babe?”

Babe. Babe was much better than cute.

On the same wavelength, you nodded and climbed onto Eddie’s shoulders when he knelt. Suddenly, you were above the mosh pit and absolutely soaring. You were in musical awe and emotional heaven and quite definitely madly in love.

Eddie kept his promise; you were returned to your home, coming straight from the show. It was late, or early, depending on how you looked at it. Your dad brewed chamomile tea, let Eddie stay for a cup. The recount of your night, spilling from your mouth at a hundred miles an hour, was amusing but ultimately your dad knocked on the kitchen table twice and went upstairs.

You walked Eddie to the door when you’d exhausted all possible conversation points. Yawning, you leaned on the door frame and smiled at him.

“You’re a mess,” he whispered, ruffling your knotted hair. “It’s hot.”

You laughed and pushed him playfully, but he caught your hand and planted a kiss on top.

“Thank you,” you said. “For tonight. Sucks for Jeff, but good for me,”

“Jeff?”

“Grounded… Couldn’t come… Spare… ticket…” you reminded him, confused at his confusion.

“Oh!” Eddie exclaimed. “Yeah. Sure,”

“What did he get grounded for anyway?”

The hesitation was a dead fucking giveaway and Eddie could tell by the stupid grin on your face that you’d figured it out.

“You lied? Why?” you said laughing.

Eddie was blushing, but it was undetectable, the night was dark and the light from inside the house had an orange hue.

“Oh, you know… Trying to be cool… casual…” Eddie shrugged.

“You were shy!”

“Shhhhh,” he shushed, pulling you into a hug.

You giggled and looked up at him. “Don’t be shy. Like you said, we have things in common.”

Eddie thought on your words, then leaned down and kissed you. It was gentle until you kissed back, then it wasn’t. It was exactly what you wanted.

“Liiiiiike, liking each other?” Eddie guessed.

“Like liking each other,” you said, smiling so hard it hurt.

[lovetorn]

jealousy is a disease [roommate!dream au]

pairing: dream x f!reader

summary: dream drags you to a frat party and gets 'annoyed' ;)

w/c: 0.7k

warnings: one curse word :P

a/n: ooo something's brewing under the surface lmao asdfghjkl

roommate!dream masterlist

—

The party is in full swing. At one of the frat houses, you've been here for 4 hours and everybody is comfortably buzzed. The party was organised by the football team, celebrating their recent win against the West Virginia Wolves. You had been dragged here by your roommate, Dream, who is, in fact, a part of the football team. You lost sight of him hours ago, choosing to stick with his best friend, Sapnap, who decided to stay by your side because he doesn’t like how the other football players look at you.

‘Pursuit of Happiness’ echoes throughout the house and everybody gathers in the middle of the living room where the make-shift dance floor lays. You snatch Sapnap’s cup from his hand and place it next to yours on the counter. Grabbing Sapnap’s hand, you pull him into the middle of the growing mosh pit. He shakes his head, declining, but then you lift your arm to spin him around. Sapnap never really dances at parties, and you’re making it your mission to change that.

You let go of his hand and in sync, you both watch as the whole crowd starts jumping when the beat drops. Reaching to grasp both of Sapnap’s hands, you join in, screaming in joy when he starts dancing. His cheeks are flushed red and his smile is bright and you can’t help but laugh at his sudden change in mood.

You don’t hear your name being called, or anything for that matter, and continue dancing with Sapnap until the song comes to a close. By the end, you’re sweaty and your feet hurt, so you let Sapnap go see his other friends and make your way to the kitchen to get another drink.

As you’re pouring lemonade into a cup, your name is called from the kitchen door and you turn to see Dream. Your face lights up at the sight of him.

“Where did you go? I haven’t seen you for hours,” You say, walking over to him. Dream stands in the doorway, leaning on the frame with his arms crossed. He looks irritated, but you choose against asking him about it.

“Have fun dancing with Sap?” He asks, tilting his head. You expect him to smile, but he doesn’t. The kitchen is empty since everybody moved to the living room, so there's no hiding the very obvious tension.

You squint at him and take a step forward. “I did, Dream. You should’ve been there.” Your cup is heavy in your hand as you take a sip, watching him over the edge.

Dream keeps eye contact with you and pokes his tongue into the inside of his cheek. Your heart skips a beat at the sight, but you swallow your drink and then shrug.

“Jealousy is a disease, Dream,” You giggle when you see his eyes widen. He unfolds his arms and walks closer.

“You know that’s not how I meant it—” Dream starts, but he quickly cuts himself off when he sees you holding your hand out.

“Dream, would you like to dance with me?” You smile. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you shake your hand impatiently when he takes a while to respond.

“Uh, yes?”

You reach over and grasp his hand. Placing your drink on the counter, you pull him towards the living room. ‘Maneater’ plays in the large space and the crowd are throwing cups and alcohol is going everywhere and you can’t wait to be in the middle of it—with Dream. Especially when you know he’s going to be close to you. Why do you want that so badly?

The song is slower than the one with Sapnap, so you alter your dancing to fit with the song. You throw your arms up and wiggle your hips to the music; all while singing to the song. Dream bites the inside of his cheek at the sight of you, grabs your waist, and pulls you towards him, hips flush against one another.

You're surprised by his boldness and snake your arms around his neck, resting your head on his shoulder. The room is too dark to see the pink blush on his cheeks, but you know it's there. You feel Dream toy with the fabric of your dress and you wonder what they feel like against your skin.

Dream smirks as he sways your hips with his—a very platonic way to dance with your roommate—and you only pull away when you feel Dream tense under your touch. You guess he’s just realised the position you’re in. He swiftly apologises in your ear and leaves you alone in the crowd.

You stand frozen in the middle of the floor, your mood flattening. You don’t want to be here anymore. But, then you shake your head. He’s your roommate, for fuck’s sake, why are you so disappointed?

You don’t think about it any longer and decide to find Sapnap again.

[ahtsumu]

[12:10 AM] “CHUG, CHUG, CHUG, CHUG––”

smiling humourlessly, you slip out of what you can only call the mosh pit inside bokuto koutarou’s living room and into the (hopefully empty) kitchen. the pounding bass and sounds of drunken revelry water down into dull thuds and muffled shouts as the kitchen door closes behind you. you toss your cup of vodka and pink lemonade into the trash bin.

“having fun?” a voice asks from a stool at the kitchen island. sakusa kiyoomi’s dark irises watch you closely.

you chuckle and settle into the chair across from his. “no.” you fold your arms over the marble top and rest your cheek on your forearms. 

“that’s dirty,” sakusa notes, staring at the space your arms occupy.

“i’m tired and a little drunk.” you pause, then add, “and it’s too loud in the living room. people are getting really drunk and spilling things everywhere, falling over on each other. it’s so gross.”

sakusa lets out a contemplative hum. “that is pretty gross,” he mutters. he takes a look at your heavy eyelids and disheveled clothes and instinctively reaches for the keys in his jacket pocket. if you stay here in that state, who knows what’ll happen to you?

“do you wanna go home? i’ll drive you,” he offers. you look up and blink in surprise.

“oh, um, yeah. thank you, sakusa.”

the raven-haired man nods before sliding off his seat, gesturing with his head for you to follow him.

sakusa kiyoomi plays jazz in the car–– the kind you’d hear at nightclubs if you’d been alive in the 1920s, you imagine. you study him with slightly blurred vision as he drives steadily down the highway from bokutou’s penthouse suite to your place. his sharp eyes never once leave the road. his posture is impeccable. his slender fingers grip the steering wheel with the perfect amount of control.

“you’re kind of a perfectionist, have you realised?” it slips out from your mouth without you even noticing.

perhaps if his mask was off you’d see the corner of his lip twitch up. “i have,” he replies smoothly.

“and how do you feel about that?”

sakusa blinks. he’s never been asked that before. “how do i feel about being a perfectionist?” he repeats slowly. you can see the gears turning in his head as he contemplates an answer, but his eyes still remain glued to the road. “i feel good about it. you can never regret doing things right.”

“even if it’s boring?”

he lets out an amused chuckle. “sometimes boring is what you need. boring is also driving you home safely right now, so you better watch that pretty mouth of yours.”

your history with sakusa isn’t the longest but it sure is colourful. there’s the first time you met–– ironically, at another msby afterparty. atsumu’d spun you around in so many drunken circles that it was inevitable you’d crash into something. that something, however, happened to be sakusa. you apologised again and again for knocking his champagne all over his fancy italian leather shoes, but sakusa doesn’t really remember much of that. he only remembers your number that you added into his phone, begging for him to send you the cleaning bill later. he never sent the bill. he still knows your number by heart.

and there’s the second time you met. hinata had invited you and at least thirty other people to disneyland for his birthday. as the redhead and the rest of the group frolicked through the amusement park, you and sakusa ended up strolling along with your hands in your pockets, chit-chatting about this and that, sitting together on every ride. and when he sat out on splash mountain, you sat out with him. it was the least you could do, since that bastard never sent you the bill for cleaning his shoes. but maybe you chose to sit with him because he made you laugh harder than anyone else had that day.

and then there’s the third time. at one of the msby games. you’d worn meian’s jersey to the game they played against the thunderbirds and something about that made sakusa feel inexplicably bothered. “are you dating our captain?” he’d asked, finding you after the game had ended. you’d only laughed and, honestly, sakusa can’t remember exactly what you said–– only that you’d said no. because at that, he finally felt the discomfort in his stomach settle. what that meant, though, he couldn’t figure out then.

sakusa pulls up outside your place and switches off the engine before letting his eyes fall on your sleeping figure. 

he thinks he knows what it means now.

“are you sure you don’t wanna come in for water or something?” you ask, leaning against the archway of your front door. sakusa stands in front of you with his hands in his pockets.

“i’m fine, thanks.”

“thank you again for driving me home.”

“my pleasure.”

and a moment passes where neither of you know what to say but want desperately to keep the conversation going, so you just stare at each other as if that can act like gravity and pull the other into your orbit.

but you’re a little drunk and you’re not sure if it’s the work of a feeling or the alcohol itself, so you reach for his neck and guide your lips to his mask. and you press a gentle kiss to where the corner of his mouth should be.

“goodnight, sakusa. drive safe, won’t you?”

sakusa blinks, frozen on your front porch. blood rushes to his ears and suddenly he feels lightheaded–– almost like he’s on cloud nine. he thanks god that the mask is covering his burning cheeks because he’s sure you’d say something about that if you could see them (not that he even minds anymore; you could tell him anything right now and he’d thank you for it). 

and right after he says “sweet dreams” and right before he walks back to his car, he tells you, “kiyoomi. you can call me kiyoomi.”

[katsukikitten]

WARNING 18+ BIRB NOT BIRB SMUT! Band AU, harem collab. In which reader meets her favorite faceless singer. Little over 3k

Sweat trickles down your spine as your favorite song is blasted from the large speakers. Fog from the stage lingers just above your head as you feel as if you were in a dream. The setting is surreal especially since you actually managed to WIN those rare radio tickets to see a band in concert. And not just any band, your favorite fucking bad.  

TOKYO MOB

The band consisted of four people, Bakugou Katsuki, the drummer who was angrier than any person you'd ever seen wearing nothing but skinny black jeans and a perpetual frown. Jiro, so cool and sleek in anything she wore as she tore up her guitar as side vocals. Then there was Denki, funny, cute even, on the bass with his electric blonde hair and killer smile. Lastly there was "Dark Shadow", the lead vocalist. 

No one knew his real name or what he looked like, he chose to wear a headpiece in the shape of a raven or crow. You loved him, even without knowing his face. 

He was so fit, strong arms and deadly abs that could be seen from beneath his cut off band tee crop top, much like you were wearing now. His voice was soothing as a bird's song, whether he was screaming or singing. The sound so uniquely beautiful it brought tears to your eyes the first time you heard it. And standing here with nothing but a small barricade and stage separating the two of you was a dream made in heaven. 

He sings your favorite song, looking out into the crowd, body drenched in sweat from the high energy show as he jumps to the beat. He pauses to hit a long note and while the guitar riffs he looks into the VIP section. You swear you feel as if he is looking dead at you. The next few lyrics are packed full with emotion as he gets onto his knee, one hand holding the microphone while the other gently floats towards outstretched hands. 

"I've been looking for youuuu, I just need to find youuuuu and when I do, when I do I'll dress you in my band teee and make youuuu~"

But it's yours that his fingers brush, intertwining his fingers with yours as tears prick your eyes. 

"Mine. Forever miiinee~" 

The world stops, his silky voice smoothing over your skin before it erupts in goose flesh, he holds on to your hand as he sings the chorus again. The screaming people around you fade away as you hear nothing but his sultry voice. 

As if he were serenading you in the kitchen of your home. 

"I've been looking for youuuu, I just need to find youuuuu and when I do, when I do I'll dress you in my band teee and make youuuu~"

"Mine. Forever miiinee~"

He squeezes your hand as he finishes the note, releasing your hand slowly before starting to stand. The music begins to fade as he huffs, trying to catch his breath before looking over the band. He sees that ever might need just a second more to take in some water so he brings the mic close to his face as he shouts. 

"Are we having a good time tonight?!" 

The crowd erupts into a scream, so loud you can barely hear the one tearing up your throat. 

"I can't fucking hear you, extras!" Bakugou shouts into his own mic. The sold out stadium shakes rivaling the bass of the sound system as they all play off random notes and beats. When the deafening roar becomes a hushed, dull roar Bakugou sets the beat, Jiro and Denki join in as their most popular song begins to bump through the speakers. The song sets a heavy, hype beat that can get anyone to bang their head to. You start along with them, booze lighting up your system and causing you to ignore the charged air around you  

Some of the bystanders, some of the women especially were jealous of the fact that you were holding hands with none other than the DARK SHADOW. 

"Stupid bitch." They murmur amongst themselves, "Let's really fuck her up." 

One says before shoving her unsuspecting and overly excitable boyfriend into another guy while shouting. 

"MOSH PIT!" The crowd follows suit, putting you in the thick of it. Normally you could handle a little mosh, staying on the fringes to avoid too much damage but being in the center was beginning to spell trouble. The world spun as body after body began to slam into you, turning you this way and that before someone begins to take advantage of the situation. A sleazy guy you had hoped to avoid "falls" into you, rough palms grabbing a handful of your ass, beneath your skirt. A yelp lost to the crowd leaves your lips, tears burning in your eyes as this man set out to ruin what was possibly the highlight of your life. 

He was going to ruin it with his disgusting cigarette breath, lips sloppily kissing at your throat as he moved the two of you closer to the barricade. His fingers dig into your ass, spreading your cheeks as he shouts into your ear. 

"These fishnets for me slut?" He slurs, chuckling as he presses your back into the cool biting metal, "Love the crop top baby, do you got a bra on underneath?" 

A sob threatens to rack through your body as your elated high quickly turns into stomach churning nausea. Desperately you look up to the stage, anything to distract you from the fingers that try to venture between your thighs, while the other rips at your favorite top.

Tokoyami jumps, stopping to adjust his feet for steady ground to do the screaming part of the song, he glances down into the crowd, silently looking for you. The woman who made his heart flutter for the first time in years and when he sees your face tilted up towards him with fear and pain twisting your features he loses his cool. 

"Fucking stop!" He shouts, the lyrics gone for now as the music abruptly stops, the man holding you startles as the light follows Dark Shadow's accusing finger. He is illuminated by the stage light as bystanders rip him from you, he punches one guy and makes a run for it. 

 "Aye yo security. Get this asshole!" Dark Shadow shouts, leaning down for your now outstretched arms. Pulling you on stage with ease as his fingers flutter over your shoulders and sides for injuries.

"You okay my sparrow?" He coos softly and you nod, and he guides you towards the back of the stage, leaving the two front members to appease the excited crowd. He presses a cold water bottle to your hand before pulling up a chair a few feet from the drum kit. 

"Stay by Bakugou okay? He'll take care of you." He wipes some sweat from your face before squeezing the nape of your neck. Bakugou glares your way with mixed emotions before doing his show starting beat to get the crowd jumping. 

"Anyone else wanna act like a fucking douche?" Denki asks, walking up and down the front of the stage waiting for Tokoyami to return to the forefront. 

"NOOOOO!" The crowd shouts, Denki offers a cheeky smile before adding. 

"That's my good fans!" He blows a kiss to the crowd and the screams fly up an octave. 

"Alright let's start this shit from the top!" Jiro shouts, letting out some hypnotic notes before looking towards Tokoyami. 

"Actually, let's give them a sample of the new album. Let's give them a tease. Do you wanna be teased?" He asks the crowd aiming the mic towards them as if he needed to. 

"SHOW US! TEASE US!" The crowd chants before Tokoyami looks towards his band members. 

"I dunno do they deserve it?" Bakugou prodes and the audience lets out a dejected whine. 

"Promise to behave?" Jiro teases and the crowd collectively screams out desperately "YES!"

"Well keep your hands to yourself and listen up cause you're only gonna hear it this once til it drops!" Tokoyami shouts before Jiro starts playing that hypnotic sound, shortly after Denki joins in. Bakugou twisting his drumstick as he waits for his cue impatiently. Dark Shadow takes in a deep breath before singing the haunting first lines of their new song. 

"What do you do, when it's stalking after yoouuu? What do you say when it's just a breath awaaay~? Coming closer and you can't seem to get awaaaaay?" 

"Always watching, always loooomming-" 

Bakugou slams his sticks down hard onto the kit, foot tapping the bass drum at an alarming speed as everything seems to be hitting a climax. 

"WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN ITS COMING FROM INSIDE OF YOU? WHAT DO YOU SAY WHEN IT SHARES YOUR NAAAAME? 

WHEN YOU CAN'T HIDE THE DEMON THAT'S LURKING INSIDE!" 

The last line he screams and the crowd is overcome with emotion. The height of the music and the new song that the band pours their hearts into, sends the crowd into a frenzy. Sweat dripping from everyone as their black shirts dampen around their collars. 

The song the crowd wanted to last forever comes to an end and you find yourself standing to scream, tears in your eyes.

"That was amazing!" Curling your fingers into a fist, Dark Shadow turns back to see you, out of the millions of people there tonight, in that moment he could only hear you.  

"Well I think we gave them a good show huh?" Denki asks into the mic, Bakugou drums a heavy beat as he shouts. 

"FUCK YEA WE DID!" 

"HAVE A GOOD NIGHT!!" The band members shout in unison before waving and slowly backing off stage. Tokoyami rushes towards you, hand slipping around your natural waist as he guides you into the darkened stage towards his dressing room. Your heart is racing in your ears as the silence becomes deafening. Being this close to Dark Shadow you couldn't help but notice the little cushion that keeps his helmet from damaging his throat and the intoxicating smell that rolls off of him like a cool breeze. He smells like cedar and pine at twilight while the wind brings with it the threat of snow. 

You shiver despite the warmth of his touch. Swallowing the lump in your throat you force your tongue to cooperate as he steps in front of his door politely opening it for you. His small silver chains clink from the motion.

"You must be tired, are you sure you want...company?" If you could see his face you imagined he'd be smiling. Pressing his hand at the small of your back to urge you inside. 

"I'm sure." He walks in, waiting for you to follow before he slumps onto a worn leather arm chair. Your platform converse move on their own as you cross the threshold of the room, closing the door behind you. 

"Lock it, would you sparrow?" All you can do is nod as you turn the lock until you hear a soft click. He gestures for you to sit on the couch beside him before his broad hands go towards his helmet. 

The blood rushes from your face as a moment of honor and horror wage war in your gut, pulling your heart down towards your feet. 

"Wait!" You shout, startling both of you and you feel heat rise into your cheeks and throat, "I don't want you to feel obligated to take it off. We can just...talk." 

Nervously you fidget with the hem of your skirt, thinking he was going to kick you out for being so lame. 

Boring. 

He stands and you flinch before he sits beside you on the love seat. If you could see his eyes you wondered if they were sparkling. His winter woods smell tickles your nose and you smile. 

"I'd love to just talk. But first." He must notice your ripped shirt as he stands again. Rummaging through his suitcase to find the first edition band tee ever made for TOKYO MOB.

"I couldn't!" You half shout and then squeak, "I shouldn't" 

"I insist." He says softly placing it on your lap before giving you his toned back. The cropped tee he wears shows off the dimples in his lower back that has you thinking of what it would look like while those hips piston into you. Quickly you toss your ripped shirt aside and slip his over your head, relishing the present smell, heart stirring.

"It's safe." You say softly and he turns around taking the seat beside you again. 

After a small awkward silence the two of you begin to talk, the conversation coming easy as you gushed over his voice and where you went to college when he asked. Him wanting to know more about your life and the night ended up being about you instead of him for once and it was nice. 

Nice to not have someone prying or clawing at his neck to find out just who he was and what he looked like, suddenly heat rushes to his pants. His hand comes to rest on your knee just below the hem of your skirt, ringed fingers sliding beneath the black fabric. You swallow, looking into the face of the bird mask and softly speak. 

"How- how would we kiss?" It feels stupid, embarrassing that you would even think that. He kills the light by the love seat flooding the room in total darkness before he takes off his helmet with a clatter. 

"Like this." His lips are by your ear now sending ecstacy through your body in the form of a spine tingling shudder. He kisses at your lobe working his way down your throat and then up to your jaw, avoiding your lips as he tastes every inch of you he can. His damp hair tickles your nose as he moves you to him, hovering over you as he kisses the plane of your stomach beneath his lifted shirt. 

"You look damn good in my shirt baby." He trails his tongue up your sternum causing you to moan, he smirks against the bone before sucking at the supple skin of your breast. Choosing them for his canvas to paint in blacks and blues that you would soon come to wish would last a life time. His free hand twists your nipple, pulling it as he scrapes his teeth against your other. Tongue flicking against the sensitive nub another moan escapes your lips as he plays with you for what feels like hours. He doesn't even go to touch your aching cunt until you're covered in a sheen of sweat. Begging for his hands to move lower as your vision spots in the dark from his sensual touch alone. Your own hands explore up his defined abs and torso occasionally catching the cool metal of his chains, this time you decide to pull him into a kiss. Your lips touching his for the first time all night and you feel like a live wire. Hungrily and aggressively trying to devour him as you feel music dancing through your blood, humming in your bones, he groans amplifying the feeling as his clothed hard on presses into your core. His tongue swipes over yours and the thought of not even knowing what he looks like arches your back into his touch. 

Finally he flips your skirt up, his fingers venturing between your thighs and when he finds no fabric and the satisfying sound of your slick he bucks his hips, biting at your breasts. 

"So wet sparrow…." His voice is soft breath and a little desperate causing your cunt to clench. He circles your clit until you're crying, his fingers occasionally checking for a stream of tears. When he feels the droplets on your face he chuckles shoving his fingers knuckle deep going agonizingly slow until you're fluttering around his thick curled digits. You cum hard and he whispers praises in your ear, several times as your body shakes and you think you won't be able to make it through the night. 

"Ready for my cock babe?" He asks gently swiping his thumb over your swollen and heavily abused clit. You perk right up, ready for the finale silently thanking the gods for a band members stamina. You notice him shaking as he leans down for a kiss, his stomach sweaty and sticking to yours. You fist his hair, pulling him back just a bit. 

"You'll be okay?" You can just make out the gleam of his teeth from his smirk before his voice comes out as pure sinful husk. 

"The question is, will you sweet sparrow?" 

Too stunned to answer he swallows your silence with a kiss before he sheaths himself inside you. Relishing the moan in his mouth and the fluttering of your velvet walls as they adjust to him. You were so wet, so ready for him as he slowly rocked his hips. Your half wish from earlier coming true as your hands fly to the dimples of his lower back, trying to urge him to quicken his pace but he keeps it languid, deadly. Each stroke hitting with purpose. The head of his cock hitting that cushy spot as his pelvis snapped against your clit. The sensation sends you into a never ending moan. Each gasp his stage name as he marks you as his, nails raking down your arms as he praises. 

"Such a nice pussy you have. Taking me so fucking well." He lingers by your ear, his tone the opposite of his lustful words. Your own nails claw down his back in viscous lines as he keeps you on the edge. The coil, steady and tight as you feel the pressure in your stomach growing. He can feel how tightly you're squeezing him and how your thighs are locked around his waist. He press his fingers into your stomach as his thumb swipes over your clit, his hips snapping faster and faster as he waits for what he hopes is coming. The pressure becomes too much he overstimulates your body, shaking as you cry out. 

"I can't, I can't…" 

"You can, just for me. Don't be shy, cum for me baby." His deep voice sends a chill through your body, you go rigid, quiet before your body jerks and releases a clear liquid onto his pelvis and cock. Shaking as he fucks your through it before his voice comes out strained as you milk him. 

"Imma cum baby, where do you want it?" 

"In me, I promise I have an IUD just fucking cum Dark Shadow!" You gasp and he obeys, adding to your pleasant after shocks, filling you to the brim with his hot seed with a husky grunt. He collapses onto you fixing your shirt before he gently withdraws, keeping his face to your chest as your fingers find his hair. You try not to let your thoughts wander and as if he could read your mind. 

"I promise you, you're the only one who's made me do that." He kisses your throat gently before his hand searches for your free one, interlacing his fingers with yours before he hums. Slowly singing you to sleep. You welcome the feeling as exhaustion blankets you in darkness.

"Uh miss." The voice comes as a shock as a large man tries to wake you from a distance. You startle, grabbing at blankets to cover yourself although you're fully clothed.  

"Hate to wake you miss but we're locking up. The venue is closed and the band is…" Although he looks a brute he clearly has some sort of heart. Unable to say what you know.  

"Gone." Tears burn your eyes as you think of how stupid you were. To ever think you were special enough to be anything more than a groupie. A note sits on the bedside table. 

"Should we cross paths again, Sparrow. I'll make you forever mine" 

The note blurs as you recognize the lyrics to the song. You look down at his band tee and wonder if your favorite song was more of a gimmick to pick up fans than some fated promise. 

And so life moves on.

You can only tell that time has passed from the fading color of your bruises. Slowly they melt from a cold bluish black into cool greens and warm dotted yellows. You sigh, looking in the mirror before you head towards your room for clothes.  Finally mustering up the courage to wear that stupid band tee he gave you again. It still smells faintly of him, of the winter woods suspended in forever twilight. Of musk from your sweat and his. You fight back the tears as you remind yourself you just put on mascara, finally choosing to participate in a social life after having your heart broken for being a fool. You decided to get ready sooner rather than later, otherwise you would have backed out from the plans and mopped around the house. You figured some coffee would help kill the time as you lace up your converse thinking of your favorite shop. You head out and walk leisurely to the cafe off the beaten path of downtown.  The street is full but not overly so as people browse the shopping district of the huge city you call home. Everyone fades into the background until your eye catches against a handsome man, dressed in tastefully torn black jeans, and an onyx turtleneck. You would be concerned for his attire in this weather if he wasn't so damn handsome. You must catch his eye as well as his face instantly lights up when he makes eye contact. He beats you to the cafe door, holding it open for you with ringed fingers like a gentleman waiting for you to enter. The gesture feels familiar causing your heart to squeeze in your chest, feeling trapped beneath your too small rib cage. As you walk past him you think you smell something familiar. 

Like cedar and pine, dancing on a snowy wind as the sun sets the world on fire. 

Your world on fire as you grip at the front of Dark Shadow's shirt trying not to cry. You just wanted your fucking macchiato and to move on with your life. You had lived every fan's dream of sleeping with your favorite band member. Tasting Dark Shadow's blackberry mouth. Shouldn't that be enough? 

Your aching heart said otherwise. 

Suddenly warmth is behind you, radiating off of a thick body as the handsome man bends over to put his profile to your ear. Goose flesh prickles your skin in late August as he says with a voice that drapes you in sinful black silk.

"You look damn good in my shirt, sparrow." 

[s1ater]

the end of us. eli moskowitz x reader

summary 📣: in which a couple of months after reader and hawk’s messy breakup, they meet again up at a party for another eventful interaction

warning/s 🚫: angst, swearing, no good ending, unrealistic high school party, toxic relationship

slater’s note 🗯: honestly not my best work but i’ll be checking my messages and inbox again to start writing for those, also join my taglist :)

you had heard it from other people before you heard it from him.

and it was like a kick in the ass, to be told “i told you so” by all your friends and all of his friends and basically everyone in the goddamn high school because they really did all know. 

he kissed another girl, maybe even slept with her, you weren’t sure but it all got swept up into a wind of rumors to the point you didn’t know what to think or what to believe but by the way he ended things, you knew something unfaithful was done. 

you didn’t remember how it begun either, when he broke up with you. you didn't remember his first words or his last or your own but he remembered them, he remembered the painful, bitter words that you uttered before leaving, ‘how was i such an idiot, to believe that you, out of all people, could ever love me’.

it hurt him, watching you walk away, getting into your car and driving away with tears running down your face. he hadn’t intended it to be like that, to end it so roughly out into a shaky cliff, but it had just slipped out from his hands. 

it was months later, you healed slowly with late nights of no sleep and peps talks from your friends with many buckets of ice cream and fast food taking over half your diet, but you had slowly fell back into your schedule before eli. 

it was hard, but it happened. 

and months later, miguel had offered you a ride. a ride you knew you shouldn’t have accepted.

“y/n, party, friday night? i’ll give you a ride?” “miguel,” you had turned, your hand on the handle of your car door, giving him a slightly amused, pointed look, “i don’t party.”

“yeah, i know,” he returned the expression, his eyebrows raised but lips slightly turned up into a smile, “eli wouldn't come to parties for weeks just to prove his loyalties to you-”  you had gotten into the car so fast, rolling your eyes at the mention of eli, it was like poison, setting your mind off into hurt as well as annoyance. all those moments for nothing, just a complete waste. 

“no- y/n, come on,” he plead, quickly stopping your car door from closing, “i didn’t mean to, i just- it just slipped out, okay? you should still come with.”

you frowned, narrowing your brows up at him, “who’s going to be there?”

“anyone you want.”

it took a lot of convincing before the two of you reached an agreement, you’d be the one driving and he’d have to bring robby just so you would go to the party. and once friday arrived you found yourself in a car full of two boys who were already pregaming. 

the party took place at some upperclassman’s house that did karate with them. you weren’t so sure it was a good idea to pull up, especially to a seniors house, who knows what could go down, but miguel had to remind you that half the school basically worshipped him, including the seniors, so if anything bad happened, he wouldn’t be one to mess with.

the house was booming with loud music that you could hear outside, even through the car as you put it in park across the street. you weren’t sure how it wasn’t shut down already from how easy it was to hear the loud ridiculous rap music blaring from the considerably big house.

you glanced over to robby and miguel who stumbled out of the car already giggling for no reason making you roll your eyes despite the amusement you found in the situation.

it was going to be a long night.

once you entered through the front door a waft of booze found it’s way up your nose making you wince, taking a minute to process what was going on.

kegs were noticeably everywhere in sight, red solo cups littered the whole room if not in someone’s hand, and a “bar” was set up onto the kitchen island along with boxes of pizza and half full bowls of chips.

you blinked a couple of times before nodding in content, yeah, it looked like a classic senior party. bright flashing lights from those cheap LED fans you could buy at the dollar store with teenage girls dancing ridiculously trying to draw some attention or just having genuine fun, people yelling from the backyard where there was pool like in every LA home, just genuine loudness. 

“have a drink!” robby slung his arm around your shoulders, holding a red solo cup close to your face, alcohol flaring up your nostrils, causing you to slightly wince, shying away before tuning back to grab the plastic cup. 

“have fun, y/n, you never have fun,” he pushes off of you after a final nob. you watched him waddle off into the crowd of sweaty bodies. 

you smiled lightly, taking another sip from the cheap cup, nodding off the drink that was slowly making its way down your throat despite how fast you tried to swallow, “yeah, i’ll try.”

it wasn’t long before moon found you, a grim smile on her face for she was already five shot of vodka deep into drunkenness. she shoved you onto the dance floor after getting a couple shots down into your own gut, becoming tipsy and giddy, your body practically vibrating in excitement. 

you felt on top of the world till a hand gripped your slender shoulder, pulling you away from the practical mosh pit of teen bodies. you couldn’t exactly process the movement taken over your body until you became face to face with the infamous boy you used to be in love with. 

“didn't exactly expect to see you here, y/n.”

you were absolutely dumbfounded to see a boy who had ignored you for months after a messy break up (not that you weren’t ignoring him as well) now confront you face to face. 

“fuck,” you groaned, “not really surprised to see you.”

he scoffed, “kind of hurt you say that.”

“since when are you affected by anything i say?”

“what?”

“you heard me.”

and then silence as he stared deeply to your core. you could see the rage and hurt that slowly built up in his eyes. his stare intensified, like he could just go off on you, like you were the one in the wrong, but he held it all in, allowing it to build up in his chest. 

“you promised,” you stuttered, voice wispy and caught up in the back of your throat like you were about to break down from all the memories that had begun to fill your mind like balloons, “you broke me and you promised... so much, you promised me that i was anything but like those others girls, that it would be different, and i believed you because you said it over and over.”

“y/n, i-”

“fuck you,” you reached over to smack his chest but he caught your arm quickly. 

“y/n,” he said in a stern tone, practically begging you to listen, “i would have done anything for you.”

your facial features dropped even further into despair. it was absolutely ridiculous to have to hear the words that had just came from his mouth. 

you scowled, trying to hide the hurt that was swirled in your pupils, but it wasn’t successful with how his faced dropped, trying to figure out why that would hurt you. 

“you asshole,” you yanked your wrist from grip, “you didn't do anything but fuck jessica karol and half the other girls in our grade not even seconds after we broke up.”

hurt. silence. shock. 

“why’re you even talking to me?” “y/n, i-” he paused, trying to find words to form, but he couldn’t with the lump forming in his throat from all your words that stung him hard, “i just- i just miss you.” “you miss me?” “yes.”

“what gives you the right to just waltz back into my life after all the pain you’ve caused me? after all that you did-”

“y/n, i got scared,” he said quickly, “y/n, baby, please, i love you, you know i love you, i didn’t want to do anything to hurt you.”

he took a stop closer, making you sway on your feet, hesitant whether you should stay in place or move backwards. 

“i got scared. i got scared because you know that i don’t make promises, and i didn’t want to break any of mine to you.”

“so you fucked another girl?” “baby,” he whispered, his hands reaching both sides of your face, his palms warm as he pushed your cheeks together, “i love you, i never want to hurt you, please.”

it was overwhelming. everything. with how close he stood and the heavy amounts of liquor coating the inside of his mouth and his hands clutching you carefully and tightly, wanting to pull you closer into something you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of. 

overwhelming, yes, that’s what it all was, but pulling away was hard, making your heat freeze up in cold and pain, but you knew if he was able to hurt you once, he’d be able to do it again, just as easy.

“no.”

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[lennoxstone]

maggie lindemann & she/her / female ‷ watch out , lennox stone has crash-landed into roswell !! they look twenty-four years old and celebrate their birthday on october 30th . they are from dallas, texas, reside in tripp’s trailer park and are currently working as a photographer. one thing you should know about them is she can be very stubborn and intense. 

tw: death, foster care, mental illness, drugs, child abandonment, neglect, suicide, self harm, blood

Full Name: Eleanor ‘Lennox’ Stone

Age: 24

Birthday: October 30, 1996

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Pronouns: She/her

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio

Siblings: Two brothers; 12 years old and 1 year old, from the family that wants to adopt her

Mental Illnesses: Bipolar II Disorder

Occupation: Bassist for Graveyard, freelance boudoir photographer

x

Eleanor Stone, who later renamed herself Lennox Stone, was born in Dallas, Texas to a drug addict. She was very clingy with her mother and had intense separation anxiety, likely due to her mother leaving her alone as early as five years old for one, sometimes two nights, in a row. When she was alone, she’d play the little keyboard in her bedroom, familiarizing herself with the notes eventually and teaching herself, later, to play keyboard. Ellie, her mother called her at that age, slept in her bed with her at night, and her mother believed that Ellie played the card really well of being ‘scared’ to do things by herself, when in actuality, Eleanor was scared. Did she sometimes manipulate because of that? Yes. But at her core was deeply ingrained fear that her mother would leave her forever. The only thing she knew about her father was that he was dead. She only found out in her young teenage years that he took his life, and was an alcoholic, after looking him up and meeting up with a living relative. 

One night, Eleanor’s mother had an accidental overdose and showed up with Eleanor at her side at the neighbor’s doorstep. Her mother proceeded to have a seizure right there, with the seven year old girl looking on. The neighbors called an ambulance and they arrived, a social worker meeting them at the hospital. Several calls to CPS had already been made due to strange behavior going on with Eleanor’s mother, and she’d seen people come in and question her mother. Nothing came of it then, but this was the final call. 

She believed for a long time that she was wrongly ripped from her mother at a young age, but it was only later that she came to have feelings of hate for her biological mother. Seven years old and withdrawn, she was mute for a year at her foster home. She said nothing to her foster mom, but would talk at school and to the therapists and to her foster dad. She manipulated him often, and ignored her new mom completely. Truthfully it was too painful to have a new mom. She told the therapist everything was fine. Nonetheless, her foster parents gave her up, and she went on to her second home at eight and a half years old. She stayed with them for three years. At nine, she would cut her wrists just to feel something. Her foster parents believed it was an act of manipulation, but it wasn’t at all. This time, she responded to therapy and stopped cutting her wrists for the most part, though she sometimes does even to this day when things are really bad. At ten, she had night terrors and would wake up screaming horrifically. She had moments where she would stare emptily, or just stop talking mid-sentence, and it scared both of her foster parents. Again, manipulation or acting--’faking’-- was suspected. She was later diagnosed with depression and reactive attachment disorder. 

At eleven, she got into her parents’ liquor cabinet and in a fit of rage smashed all the bottles, cutting her feet accidentally as she tried to leave the kitchen, and her parents found her, horrified, blood and glass all over the floor. She, luckily, didn’t have an infection when they rushed her to the hospital with nasty cuts and open wounds all over her feet and knees. 

She would scream out for her mom at night, and when her foster mom came to her side, Eleanor pushed her aside and screamed in her face. She said, “Fuck you! You aren’t my real mom!” They frequently cried at night, at wits end with this child who they had welcomed in their home who wouldn’t bond with them. They finally came to think that they weren’t suited to be her parents, and it was with a heavy heart that they stopped being her parents and she went on to the next home. 

Eleven and a half, she found a permanent home--well, permanent until she aged out of the foster system at sixteen, and decided instead of staying with them, she’d start her life somewhere else, and picked a random place. While the time lasted, anyway, it was for the first time that Eleanor was able to bond with a foster family. They had a cat that she loved and a baby boy. So, why, did they want her? Well, they told her---because they had lost a child a few years ago, and they felt something when they first saw Eleanor. They felt that they intensely wanted to give her a good home. 

She thrived with them for the first couple of years, getting involved in music, fine tuning her skills on the keyboard, and branching out to other instruments, feeling like she was finally good at something, even had a natural talent for it. 

She began getting into alcohol and smoking marijuana at fourteen. They found it in her room and questioned her about it, not upset at all, very gentle. It was due to their gentle parenting that she decided to quit what she herself even believed was acting out. At least in that way. She still went out at night a lot without telling anybody, just needing to escape. She would mostly walk by herself, but she had one good guy friend, Matthew, who would be awake whenever she called. Eleanor fell in love with him and he fell in love with her. They were together for two years. During that time span she had found out the truth about her father, that he had been an alcoholic and had ended his life. She had enough of Texas. Her parents assured her she had a place with them for as long as and whenever she wanted it, but she left without a proper goodbye. She called them a month later to let them know where she was. She was staying at a friend’s house (someone she’d met and partied with upon landing in Roswell--they knew each other a week before she moved from her motel into their apartment.) She and the other female quickly began a romance, full of drama. She began questioning a lot about herself. Playing around with her identity. Who she was. What she liked. What she believed. But mostly, she was reckless, restless, and impulsive. 

Seventeen, she changed her name unofficially from Eleanor to Lennox, left her girlfriend, and became apart of a group who were forming a band, moving back and forth from place to place. She’d become even more musical, and it had become a discipline for her, even; it was the one thing she felt like she was good at, and she took it seriously. It was and is really the only way she can express herself. And she loves the bass guitar, and can also play drums and piano. She felt like it was a good release for her anger. It was then that she found Cyrus, and the two formed a toxic relationship, almost always fighting. She had genuine feelings for him and probably still does, but the relationship wasn’t healthy in nearly any sort of way, and she didn’t feel she could handle that kind of thing anyway. Even though inside she hated being alone, felt this gaping hole in her heart when she was, that gaping hole didn’t take long--that emptiness didn’t take long--before it swallowed her whole again, even when she was right there in someone’s arms. Maybe the echoes of her childhood catching up with her?

She’s a tortured soul, feels like she’s lived way longer than her twenty-four years, and the “accidental deaths” that happened when the band was hanging around in mosh pits utterly ruined her. She beats herself up for it everyday, even if it couldn’t have been her fault. She still asks herself, is it my fault in someway, indirectly? She misses Cyrus. Now using music to get to him, even going off on her own and creating a hauntingly angry solo song that was leaked accidentally, showcasing her talent in a way that no one had quite seen before--who knew she could sing, or play the piano so well. And just when they’re working on creating their fifth album. But she was always known, even in childhood, to cause problems. And she did so in Graveyard. Frequently. Acting out, not showing up to meetings, or showing up late, or high. Lennox spends a lot of her days doing drugs and drinking alcohol, finds difficulty in getting through most days without them in some form, and she’s definitely rebellious, even aggressive at times. But underneath all of that is a scared inner child that actually feels things very deeply and loves intensely. In the past year she’s gotten into boudoir photography, and has found she’s decently good at it. She’s managed to accumulate clients, enough that she can afford living at the trailer park. Her foster family moved to Roswell a year ago, after their son was born (a happy surprise), after communicating with Lennox through phone calls and webcam for several years. They’ve just asked her if she’d be okay with them adopting her, even though it seems to her that it’s pointless at her age. Her sleep schedule is shit, as she often finds herself wandering around at night, not able to shut off her mind, thinking about running away and starting her life over someplace else. But she never does it. At least, not yet. The urge to run away in every area of her life is always so strong. 

[wvttvk]

are u up? — Jeff Wittek

a/n: just a random horny thing I wrote last night, idk lol. smut&language warning. lmk what ya think. 2.1k words. (( are u up? pt2 ))

Fuck.

Your eyes shot open, meeting only the darkness of the bedroom. You were definitely awake now. You sat up in the love sac, rubbing your eyes as they adjusted to the darkness of the room. You immediately noticed the layer of sweat coating your body. You felt uncomfortably flustered, a feeling you were familiar with. As you fought to get out of the blanket you had become entangled in, you climbed out from the giant bean bag you’d fallen asleep in.

Through a crack in the curtains you could just barely see the moonlight casting the fainted sliver of light into the bedroom. It was Natalie’s room, you remembered; memories of a long night flooding your brain. It had turned from a day of shooting for the vlog to a night of drinking at David’s house. The group was exhausted and therefore were drinking like monsters, a drunken mosh pit of hormonal friends grinding on each other. It was probably one of your favorite nights.

Through the darkness you saw Natalie and Corinna in the bed, their bodies forming a V, their legs intertwined to a point. You smiled from the cuteness but also in relief that you hadn’t gotten extremely horny in bed while next to your friends. You stood from the floor, and grabbed a pair of socks from the drawer next to you. You needed to get out of the room, you needed water and maybe some fresh air. You needed a release.

Adorned in a big t-shirt and cheeky underwear, you slid out the room, your phone in hand. Once out of the room you crept into the kitchen, seeing that none of the group were sleeping out on the main couch. You thought to yourself that Jeff, Zane, and Todd were most likely sleeping in the studio or in Dave’s room, so you continued to the kitchen. After making it to the sink with only one injury; a horribly painful stubbed toe, that you reacted to in what you had deemed an impressive manner—only whisper-yelling “fuck” at a moderate volume. As far as you were concerned you were successful in your escape to the kitchen undetected by your sleeping friends.

You leaned against the counter, turning on the cold water. The coolness of the water against your burning skin felt so nice, your hands rubbing against your forehead, cheeks and neck. What had you been dreaming? Even now, you shifted your thighs against each other in hopes to ease the pressure. Your screen lit up next to you.

A message from Jeff. You hated to admit it but damn at the sight of his name you felt the heat in your cheeks begin to bloom. He was sexy, everyone knew it. However, he knew as well as you did, that as a member of the friend group, sex among the friends has shown to be a true road to disaster. So when Todd had drunkenly exposed Jeff for admitting you were hot, you made a decision: you sure as hell didn’t want any drama. Therefore, he was a forbidden fruit. Something that you can look at all you want, but can’t touch. So you tried to steer clear of Jeff. Always keeping him at arm's length, friendly but not too personal. And that worked fine for you.

Opening the text, you felt your heart begin to race again.

are u up?

It was such a simple text but god were you excited to see his name on your phone at 4:34 in the morning. You responded a quick yes before you could talk yourself back to Natalie's room.

You leaned against the counter, your hands scooping your hair to pull into a ponytail. You could feel the hair at the base of your back that had been matted with sweat. The cold of the counter felt good on your lower back through the thin shirt and you let your head fall on your shoulders, the tiredness letting your eyelids flutter closed in resting.

“Hey.”

His voice sliced through the silence around us and my eyes shot open at the shock.

“Holy—What the fuck, Jeff.” You whisper-shouted across the kitchen island, you hand raising to rest on your heart. “You scared me. I didn’t even hear you...” you trailed off, watching as he casually walked through the kitchen grabbing two water bottles and continuing to stand adjacent to you. His arm reached across the empty space, a water in hand. You reached out to grab it, mumbling a thank you. From such a slight interaction you felt your body react to his proximity.

You hated how attracted you were to him, how his slightest move sparked such a chemical reaction from you. Your eyes were glued to his. The warm brown of his eyes looked so beautiful in the light of the moon. His lips were moving but you didn’t hear what they said, you were too locked in on how his eyes raced across your face, occasionally dropping to glance at your body so quickly, you had almost missed it completely.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm” you snapped back to reality, “what did you say?” He took a step closer and your heartbeat dropped to between your thighs. Your legs just slightly shifted tighter and as much as you hoped he hadn’t, Jeff noticed. His eyes dropped lower, rising again to land on your eyes. A smirk was just ghosting his lips and you knew he knew. You just hoped he wouldn’t talk about it.

“I asked, why are you up?” The words had tumbled so gracefully from his lips, the syllables dragging as he shifted in your space. He moved just slightly closer to where you were leaning. There was no way to create distance without noticeably running away from him.

“Oh, I couldn’t sleep, I needed to get some water. And you?” You countered trying to make innocent conversation but Jeff was feeling playful.

“You didn’t get water till I got here.” His face no longer trying to hide the smirk spreading across his lips.

“I was just—whatever,” you rolled your eyes, your cheeks were warm and you knew he was teasing you now. “Why are you up Jeff?” You asked, your arms crossing in front of you.

“Same as you…” he began. When his eyes dropped from yours again, you realized your clothes—or lack of clothes you were wearing. You released your arms trying to remain nonchalant as Jeff visibly checked you out. You cleared your throat again. Your mouth was dry and you know that you were wet, you needed to get out of this damn kitchen.

With the silence and the intensity of Jeff’s stare, you needed a quick escape. So you straightened yourself to Jeff, “Alright well I’m going back to bed...”

You had just barely taken a step into your escape when Jeff’s hand reached out to touch your side. The heat of his palm was against your stomach and his long fingers just skimmed the curb of your waist, he just slightly moved you back to your prior position leaning against the counter, only now his hand was against the thin fabric of your shirt.

He stepped closer, he was completely in your space, his right hand against the left side of your abdomen, trapping you against the counter. He felt so much taller now, his shoulders turning down for him to move his face next to yours.

Your breathing was noticeably uneven as his nose brushed against your jaw, his hot breath rushing along your neck and collar bones. You took in a sharp inhale as you felt the tips of his fingers toy with the bottom of your t-shirt, his fingers skimming across the skin above your underwear.

“I thought you couldn’t sleep.” His lips were at the shell of your ears as he questioned you, his index finger tracing back and forth against the lining of your underwear. It was so hard for you to fight a moan as well as fight the urge to move your hand between your thighs. You couldn’t speak, really. This all was becoming so much, you were horny and you couldn’t sleep, this is not what you had in mind as a way to calm down.

Before you could muster an answer he moved his hand to cup you through your panties. He finally was able to conjure a vocal gasp from you, your hand rising to hold on to his bicep. His face pulled back to look at you, his eyes now dark and filled with something new. “Hmm?” He asked again, the playfulness in his tone clear as he knew you were quite literally putty in his hands.

“I-“ you didn’t even know what to say. He had begun using his middle finger to apply pressure to your center through the thin fabric of your underwear, his teasing was too much. He felt how wet you were, he knew he won, but he needed to hear you say it. You let out what sounded like frustrated whine as you caved. “Please, Jeff.”

He didn’t tease you much longer, with a victorious smile his lips pressed hungrily against yours. His tongue pushed its way into your mouth, brushing against yours in the most delicious way. But you needed more, and you caught his lip between your teeth. Just enough for him to hiss in shock, his eyes reigniting with a fire that matched yours.

His hand that had been cupping you rose to your face, his thumb brushing your lips before pushing into your mouth. Your lips closed around his thumb and your tongue grazed it as he retracted it from your mouth, a raspy and quiet moan sneaking out from Jeff’s mouth.

His smile was dark and confident as he let his hand fall to its previous spot, this time skillfully slipping into the fabric and feeling you for the first time. You let out a moan as his fingers traced against your slit, his thumb finding its way to your clit.

Your moans were muffled into his free hand as he thrusted his digits in and out of you. It was an alteration of lazily connecting your lips and Jeff kissing against your neck, his voice coming out in pants against your skin, sending shockwaves running through you. As his beard pricked your neck in the most beautiful way, and you dug your fingers into his arm, you were euphoric.

“S’good, Y/N.” He spoke against the skin of your collarbones. “C’mon, babe.” You knew you were close, your body was needing a release. With Jeff’s free hand sneaking under your shirt to your hardened nipples, you couldn’t hold out any longer. You came undone with his fingers still inside of you. He was holding most of your weight against the counter and your lips found his. He swallowed your moans and his thumb continued circling your clit as you rode the high.

Your forehead rested on his chest. It was rising and falling beneath you; you could feel his fingers still in you. You leaned off of him as his hand snakes out of your underwear. Looking at his face now, you were bright red. His eyes stayed locked on yours as he lifted his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them. You were shocked at how forward he was and it made the pressure begin to rebuild in the pit of your stomach.

His eyes closed if only for a moment, and you heard him hum from behind his closed mouth. He pulled his fingers from his mouth, his dark eyes burning into yours again. You didn’t know what to say. You were beyond flustered. Before you could do anything, Jeff looped his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a final kiss. Jeff took control of the kiss, making sure that you could taste yourself on his tongue.

He pulled away and you noticed his erection. You stepped forward, your lips pulling into a smirk, ready and almost excited to return the favor but Jeff stopped you. His hand wrapping around your wrist before you could feel his toned chest. Before your insecurities could question why, he spoke, letting his hand rest along your jaw, his thumb brushing against your swollen lips.

“Next time. Now you owe me one.” He said it with a smirk, walking around you. His hand quickly smacked your butt as he passed you, and you let out an airy gasp. Your whole body felt electric. His head turned back to you and he was already smiling, “Goodnight, Y/N.” He rounded the corner with a wink, and he was gone.

“Fuck.”

[lunacrow-writes]

Messing With The Brothers- Solomon

Words-1659

Solomon and MC get into mischief and mess with the seven brothers

Solomon and MC laid in bed, talking about the human world and all its wonders.  They laid on their sides, legs intertwined and holding hands. This was a normal thing for the couple. Whenever one of them got homesick, they would cuddle and talk about their homeland. Tonight they were talking about it out of boredom.

Solomon got an idea. “We should mess with the brothers! Like prank them or confuse them with human slang.”  

MC gasped, sitting up to grab their human phone from the nightstand. They searched up old vines. Solomon sat up and leaned his head on MC’s shoulder.  They made a list of different ideas before getting up and running over to the House of Lamentation. 

“Who should we start with?” MC whispered as Solomon quietly shut the door behind them.  He glanced towards the door to the kitchen.

“Let’s see who's in the kitchen.” They crept forward and peered into the kitchen. Beelzebub set out snacks from the cabinets and fridge onto the counter. Solomon raised a hand just as Beel started reaching for a bag of chips. The chips started moving away from the demon. His eyebrows scrunched in confusion. Solomon kept moving the bag away from him. It flew across the kitchen. Beel chased after it. MC laughed as the sorcerer dangled the bag right above the demon’s head before snatching it away just as he started reaching for it. 

Beelzebub turned into his demon form, growling frustrated. Solomon raised his other hand. MC watched as the rest of the food raised. Beelzebub glared at the floating food. With a flick of a wrist, the food came flying towards the demon. As Beelzebub shouted, trying to catch the food, Solomon pulled MC away from the scene, pulling them up to their room. 

The two burst out laughing as soon as the door shut. 

“That was great,” MC exclaimed. Solomon held onto them so he didn’t fall over from laughing.

“Alright who’s next?” Solomon asked after they calmed down. MC thought.

“Mammon!” The two walked out of the room and ran into Levi.  “Hey, Levi. Have you seen Mammon?”

“He’s in his room, I believe.” The otaku mumbled before heading into his room. The two humans ran to Mammon’s room and slowly crept open the door. He was playing a game on his Wii. The two ran in and started bouncing around, running into Mammon. 

“MOSH PIT!” MC yelled as the two backed into either side of Mammon.

“Hey! Quit it out you two! What ya think your doin’?” They kept knocking into the demon. Soon Mammon fell over, dropping the remote and losing his game. The two ran out of his room laughing, shutting the door to his room. 

“We should get Belphie next,” Solomon said in between laughter. They walked over to the twin’s room. Belphie was passed on on his bed, on his stomach and his head off to one side. 

“We should draw on his face,” MC whispered. 

“What though? We need to think of something that makes up for the lame prank.” 

MC pouted. “Why are you calling my prank lame?”

Solomon chuckled and pecked MC’s lips. “Sorry babe. It is though.” 

“Fine. No more kisses for you.” MC walked over and grabbed a marker off Belphie’s desk. 

Solomon scoffed. “Fine then.” 

He watched as MC started writing on the sleeping demon’s forehead. ‘ I heart Lucifer’ 

MC drew smaller hearts around the bigger heart. Solomon stifled a laugh before taking the marker from MC. ‘Mammon is the best brother.’ Was written on his cheek. 

They drew smiley faces on his other cheek. MC put the marker back where they found it before exiting. 

“I have an idea for Lucifer but I want to leave him for last,” MC smirked at their boyfriend. 

“Okay. Next target?”

“We have Satan, Levi and… ASMO!” Solomon smirked.

“Asmo it is.” They two entered the lusty demon’s room. Water running could be heard from the bathroom. He was taking a bath. The two snuck forward. As they got closer, Asmo’s soft singing could be heard. 

“What should we do? I don’t want to see anything so what can we do from out here?” MC whispered. 

“I can turn the water into slime or goop.” 

MC nodded and ran over to Asmo’s vainty. They grabbed an unused lipstick and uncapped it. Solomon watched curiously as they leaned over the desk and started writing on the mirror.

‘My body is a temple. Open day and night to everyone.’

He had to stifle a laugh when he read what MC wrote. They placed the lipstick back before nodding to Solomon. He opened the door a crack and concentrated on the water. With a snap of his fingers, the water turned to greenish brown goop. Amso let out an ear piercing scream. The two heard him stand up as they booked it out of his room. They found themselves in Levi’s room for shelter as Lucifer’s footsteps approached Asmo’s room. 

They looked over at the otaku. He was engrossed in playing a game. His headphones prevented him from hearing any noise. They walked up behind him. He didn’t notice.

“LEVI!” MC shouted, grabbing his shoulders. The demon stiffened, throwing his control in the air. A loud shriek come from his mouth. 

“What the hell MC!” Levi ripped off his headphones. 

“What crack-a-lacking, Levi?” Solomon asked. Levi looked at him confused.

“Hey, slap me some skin, buddy.” MC held out their hand. The demon’s eyes glanced from MC’s face to their hand. 

“Listen, sugar-” Leviathan did a double take.

“Did you just call me sugar?”

“We just want to know why the chicken crossed the road, okay?”

“More importantly, why does everyone question him when he does?” Levi looked between the two, confusion all over his face. They struggled to keep back the laughter.

“Hey, brolevi, we got beat feet.” Solomon jabbed a thumb towards the door. 

“We’ll let you get back to your game, dudester.” They calmly walked out. Solomon stopped in the doorway. 

“Don’t forget, an apple a day keeps the mortician away.” 

MC started choking on air. Solomon quickly shut the door before dragging MC away. They were red with laughter and from the lack of oxygen. MC gasped, trying to get as much air in before they started coughing again.

“That was awesome,” they croaked. Solomon patted their back.

“It was. You alright?” MC nodded, calming down. 

“Time to get Satan.” They walked to the library where the fourth eldest was. They stood outside, trying to figure out what to do.

“Let's head to his room and mess with his books.” MC whispered before leaning in to glance at the blond. Solomon chuckled.

“He is going to be pissed.”

“We can blame it on Mammon.” 

They ran off to Satan’s room. Entering, the dodge the piles of books and papers on the floor. 

“Okay, let switch piles around.” They started moving books and papers out of their place.

“Lets just rearrange the entire room,” Solomon suggested.  

MC shrugged. “Why not.” They started switching the furniture around as quickly as possible. The bed was moved to the other side of the room along with the chair. 

MC wiped their brow as Solomon finished placing the last pile of papers on the desk. 

“We should get out of here before Satan returns.” We walked out of the room and softly closed the door just as Satan opened the library door. We moved away from his room as quickly as we could. 

Solomon pinned MC up against the wall with one arm, placing his lips on theirs as Satan turned to head towards his room. 

“Can you two not make out by my room? Go to MC’s room and do that.” Satan asked, scrunching his nose in disgust as he approached.

“No, it's not as fun,” MC stated, pulling away from their boyfriend. Satan scoffed and opened up his door. Solomon moved away from MC so they could make a quick escape. 

“What the actual fuck? Satan exclaimed when he saw his room. 

“GOTCHA,” Solomon shouted as the two ran away. 

“SOLOMON, MC! GET BACK HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!” Satan roared, chasing after them. 

“Dinner is ready!” Lucifer yelled from the bottom of the stairs. MC and Solomon raced down the stairs, jumping down the last few. Satan pounded after them.

“Why are you running? Why are you running?” MC shouted back at Satan. Lucifer raised an eyebrow. The two ran past him and towards the dining room. 

“Beelzebub, save us!” MC yelled, hiding behind the tall demon.

“No.”

Satan ran into the room. “Come here you two.” 

“NO!” Solomon and MC yelled. Mammon walked in.

“Are you fighting them too? Cause they made me lose my game.”

Leviathan walked in after him. “Same here. They scared the shit out of me.” 

Solomon and MC slowly backed away from the group.

Beelzebub looked at the two. “Was that you guys messing with me and the food earlier?” 

MC laughed sheepishly. “No…” 

Asmodeus ran into the room. “WHOEVER MESSED WITH MY BATH AND WROTE ON MY MIRROR IS GOING TO PAY! MY SKIN IS STAINED AND SO IS MY MIRROR!” 

Solomon and MC exchanged looks. Belphie walked in rubbing his eyes, tiredly.

 “Whats with all the racket?” The other brothers gasped when they saw his face. Lucifer pulled out his phone and opened the camera, handing it to his youngest brother.

“Look at your face.” 

Belphie screamed. “WHO DID THIS?” 

“MC, we have to get Lucifer and then get out of here or we’re dead meat. I can port us back to my dorm,” Solomon whispered. MC nodded. Everyone stared at Belphies face as the two snuck up. 

“What did they do to you, Lucifer?” Mammon asked. Lucifer smirked.

“Nothing.” 

“Yet. VIBE CHECK!” Solomon and MC yelled, smacking the oldest on the ass before Solomon teleported them back to his dorm.

Lucifer stiffened. “GET BACK HERE YOU TWO!”

[spookysquish13]

THE START

The Start Author Note: Hi guys! Im Morph. I wanted to try my hand in some writing. I didn't know where to start with JJ and saw someone wanted Pop Punk JJ. Pop Punk used to be my life and felt that this was actually meant to be. -- This seems shorter then what I wanted, but I didnt know where to stop or start or any of it.

*ps. i got locked out of my old account and am reposting my works.*

The start "I swear to fucking god Chris, I'll turn this fucking car aroundShut the fuck up" beach boy mccafferty WARNINGS: Drug use, moving, mosh pit, circle pit, blood

After years of hard work things changed drastically in the last few months. You were moving to the outer banks. You found an apartment and an old good friend from way back when, who's lived there for some time is going to help you get your bearings.

---

You spent all day with your friend, Charlie, helping you unpack and decorating a bit. You moved into a decent 2 bedroom apartment. It has a nice sized living room, your tv stand is a long 9 shelf cubed bookshelf, which allowed room for your movie collection with room to grow. There is a little patio in the back with a grill, and a cute little kitchen with a pantry out-cove.

There is enough room for some people to comfortably stay over while having space to move around. Nothing spectacular but good enough to call a new home.

In the bedroom you have the regular pinterest decor, headboard and footboard with lights wrapped around the spindles. In the second room you have a futon and a little record player corner, with some old records you found at thrift stores on the wall. In the living room you put out a polaroid camera so when people come in you can take their pictures. A way to remember some memories. You took a picture with Charlie when she received a text. While you are hanging the picture on the wall where the camera is located, Charlie screams and runs into your room looking through your closet.

"WE are going to a show tonight!" Charlie says trying to pick out outfits for herself and for you. She tells you to go shower after moving in this heat you need to be fresh for the concert.

---

You settle on a state champs t-shirt that you bleach tye dyed yourself tucked into ripped jean shorts with black matte doc martens. Doing your hair in space buns because they are freaking cute, and minimal makeup. Winged eyeliner, mascara and some liquid lipstick.

Charlie comes out of the bathroom running around gathering her stuff as she tells you that our ride is here. In the old van you see many heads already in the back. Charlie climbs into the passenger side and the side door slides open for you to get in. Charlie introduces you to the driver, Kie and points behind her saying that the two boy's names were Pope and JJ. Pope was studying from some book and JJ was finishing rolling a joint.

Pope looks up from his book and offers you his hand. "pleased to meet you" "Same here" You shake the boys hand and chuckle at him trying to read in the dark.

You offer your hand to JJ but shuffles around trying to do a two handed task with only one hand. You apologize and he ends up giving you the typical dude-bro sup nod, which you return. JJ tries to offer the blunt to the entire car, pope refusing, saying something keeping a channel clear? Clean? Kie said no because she's driving, Charlie says no thank you but you say yes and you could see the surprise on JJ's face.

When you get there you have to buy tickets at the front booth. Kie bought the boys their tickets and you bought Charlie's for all of her help.

You didn't plan on sticking together, so you push through the crowd and you go up to the point of were the mosh pit would eventually start. To your surprise everyone followed you through. Once the main band came on the pit opened and you felt the freedom you were desperate to feel after this move. It was good to be in the pit, no one knew names and no one really paid attention to faces. You could be anyone you wanted to be during this time. How you looked while dancing didn't matter, there was some guys on the floor scooting around pretending to be in a row boat. You felt safe even though there was nothing but chaos. People were always polite and looked out for girls in the pit. During one of the heavier songs there was a circle pit opening and you started to run. You lost footing, clumsy as always, but there were veiny tan arms around your waste as soon as you started falling.

"I got you" JJ tries to not yell too loud in your ear. Where his hands were, your skin immediately turned into fire. It felt like his hands were burning into your skin. You have never felt such electricity from another being ever before. You were speechless, as you two just met. You could just nod in response.

After the song ended, you went to get a water, not being in a concert for a while took more out of you than you expected. You saw JJ coming up next to you, and you shout make it two. You pay for the waters and he walks to go outside, making sure you are following him.

"Hey, Y/N, right?" JJ asks after drinking almost half of the water bottle at once. "Thank you very much for the water"

"It was the least I could do, you saved me from being boot mush." You chuckled at yourself, couldn't you at-least try to sound cooler.

"I heard you just moved here, Charlie is a good friend of Kie, Charlie is a good friend of yours, by proximity you are close with Kie. I protect my friends." there was a darkness in JJ's eyes, a different shade than before. The color did something to your heart but shook the feeling off. You just met this boy, take it easy. In this light you could see his lip had a scab on it, which was now bleeding.

"Hey, did that happen in there?" You point to your lip as he goes to swipe his own.

"Fuck, no, it just opened back up. Im tougher then that a circle pit isn't going to make me bleed" JJ chuckles and rolls his eyes, flexing his muscles through a grey long sleeve t-shirt. Which is he now using the hem as a napkin to brush some blood away.

"Lets head back" JJ nods to the entrance doors, holding one for you.

You knew you would follow this man named JJ anywhere and you just met him. You wanted to know where JJ got that busted lip from. You wanted to know more about this group. The way JJ talked about his group, it felt like it could be the family you have always wanted.

What else could come with this move? This might have been the best choice you have ever made in your entire life.

[jellyroom]

How they would react to seeing their 4'10 s/I blasting heavy metal while backing a cake (this is something I do often and my friends find it hilarious)

How they would react to their short s/o playing heavy metal while baking~

Lucifer

He would probably be a little surprised but nothing crazy. He definitely would have though you listened to softer music but over all doesn’t kind as long as you don’t blare the music to loud. Will probably leave a kiss on your cheek as he walks by.

Mammon

He will be very surprised but in a good way. Will 100% act like a crackhead and headbang to ever song that plays and will have you do it with him. He may even start his own “mosh pit” by jumping around and punching the air. Please don’t get distracted by him while baking.

Asmo

As soon as he walks in he’s either walking out or changing the music. He’s not a fan of metal at all and it’s not that he hates that you listen to it he just feel it will bring him down if he listens to it. He will find you adorbale though.

Satan

He will find it adorbale and will help you bake as well to the best of his ability’s. He will definitely turn the music up just to bother Lucifer. He may play some songs he likes himself

Leviathan

I don’t think he will be effected either way. You allow him to be himself so why should he judge you? He will give your music a chance and may even get into some of the songs.

Beelzebub

He went into the kitchen expecting to find a snack but when he seen you baking while listening to Heavy metal he walked up behind you and hugged you from behind. He didn’t care what you listen to but, hearing you softly sing along with the music was his favorite thing, other than you baking.

Belphigor

He would find it absolutely adorable and would probably just sit down somewhere in the kitchen while you bake and the two of you can just jam out. He may even suggest songs for you both to listen to. 

Diavolo

He would laugh and then sit on the counter near you and sit their smiling while watching you bake and may even try to help since he’s never done just before.

Barbatos

He will be surprised but find it adorable, he will definitely help you bake no matter what and will help you clean up after it. He may know some of the songs so he will hum along with them.

Solomon

He will 100% love it. He may be a little surprised at first that you listen to heavy metal but overall worn mind it. I don’t think Angel eyes by New Year’s Day is metal but I could be wrong but he would definitely slow dance to you with it or even the song Contemptress by Motionless in white.

Simeon

Is definitely surprised, he’s not aginst the music but he’s not fond of it either. Seeing you listen to it will be the only reason he will listen to it willingly most times.

[mka1098]

She Wears the Crown of the School and Key of My Heart - A Percabeth Percy Jackson One-shot Fanfiction Story

Want to have the story read out loud for you ? 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZnJmrjvaXpo&list=PL_yqxljCzSpIEMPBUYLmUcUnPmSOtc2aN&index=5 

Annabeth Chase. She was the queen of the school no doubt. And she just happened to be Percy Jackson's childhood crush from grade 2. She moved here, sophomore year, and in one year, she had everyone wrapped around her finger. Luke, the popular boy that was set for Yale, Drew the old It girl who lost her status and can't move a muscle again the new queen, Piper, her first friend at the school and now her maiden in waiting. Everyone was hooked on her. First the new girl, now the most popular girl in school. She most certainly had Percy Jackson under her spell. Even as a young 7-year-old, Percy was bewitched. And now, ten years later. He still was. 

"Dude stop staring at her," Grover told his best friend who was watching the queen spin around and around on the dance floor with her king. Her jr prom king. 

"She's so beautiful," Percy said dreamily. 

"Yeah, you say so all the time." Grover rolled his eyes. "I'm going to go talk to my girlfriend over there." The ginger announced and left his smitten friend to just stare. Percy admired her dress, it was simple yet elegant, even amongst this mosh pit of students. 

"It's probably bad to still be in love with the same girl that you've not been dating for 10 years," Percy muttered to himself and moved to the drinks table to snatch a soda. He found the basket of soda's and grabbed the coke. 

Only for another hand to be placed on top of his. And said hand had a french manicure. And remarkably familiar infinity bracelet. 

"Sorry, did you want it?" A fruity voice spoke to him. Percy's eyes went wide and he turned to look at the blonde who had spoken. She had heels on but still, she was a ways shorter than him. Percy stood at 6'3, Annabeth at most was 5'11 with heels. His mouth didn't move and nor did his brain. He was captivated by the beauty in front of him. Her princess curls were twisted up in an updo, with hair framing her face perfectly. Her grey eyes were still strikingly gorgeous, even in the low lighting. Her lips were painted a pink color, like an innocent little princess but the cat eyeliner said that she cut like a queen. 

"Uh, do you still want it?" She said awkwardly. Percy slowly shook his head. She nodded and was about to walk away when without thinking, Percy grabbed her arm. 

"Wait." He said. She looked at him confused. 

"Yes?" She asked. "We know each other!" He said. Annabeth opened her mouth and then closed it before saying a word. 

"...yes." She looked at him suspiciously but Percy broke out into a grin. 

"You know who I am!?" 

"You just said we knew each other."

"yeah, but like do you know my name?"

“Uh, yes Percy I do. Do, uh, you know mine?"

"Yeah!" 

This was a very weird and awkward conversation. But Percy's lovesick brain didn't compute that. At least it wouldn't for a while longer. If you have him maybe 3 more days, it'd catch up and he'd freak out over it.

"Uh, is there anything else you wanted to tell me?" Annabeth smiled politely but it was clear she didn't know what was happening with this conversation. 

"We were in second grade together." Percy gushed out. Annebeth's lips pressed into a tight line. 

"Well, yeah we're in the same grade." She said slowly. Percy shook his head. "No, we were in the same class." Annabeth's eyebrows crinkled together before her face lit up and she snapped her fingers and clapped once. 

"Oh! Percy! I remember now! You gave me this bracelet." She held up the arm Percy was still ahold of. 

"Oh sorry." He let go sheepishly. Annabeth just laughed. \"You're fine." She was all eased up now. "I forgot about 2nd grade, well everything but this here." The blonde twisted her wrist around. 

"Congrats on the crown." Percy pointed to the plastic crown in her hair. Annabeth reached up and touched it. "Oh, yeah thanks." She smiled at him. 

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" A voice yelled and Annabeth and Percy both turned to face the sound, which was coming towards them. "I knew you were cheating on me!" Luke roared. Annebth's mouth dropped. 

"I- what! I am not." She yelled back. The place went quiet, even the music stopped. 

"You were holding his hand!" Luke yelled back. Annabeth growled. "He was holding my wrist because he recognized the bracelet." She defended herself. 

Percy wanted to die. Was he causing the perfect couple to fight? Yes, yes he was. Great going Jackson. 

"How?!"

"He gave it to me!"

"Oh so now you're accepting gifts from your side dude?"

"Oh my god, WE WERE SEVEN WHEN HE GAVE IT TO ME!"

"And you kept it?!"

"Yes! A gift from a friend."

"I know you're cheating on me."

"I AM NOT!"

Luke snarled at Percy. Percy only looked at him, they were close in height so it was a battle of not looking away. "I'm not anything like that to her," Percy stated. Luke rolled his eyes. "Yeah sure like I believe that. If you're going to be like that, I will too." He growled. 

The Blonde boy's eyes caught onto the nearest girl that wasn't Annabeth and pulled her to him and started furiously making out with the girl. Said girl screamed and pulled away, kicking him in a sensitive spot. Annabeth had no choice but to watch the scene of her boyfriend accusing her of infidelity and then doing it himself. The other girl started screaming at him and slapped him in the face. "And for the record. Annie was loyal to you. You are a pig." The other girl stormed away and no one in the either place spoke. 

"It's over," Annabeth said softly. "I never cheated on you nor thought of it. But if you don't believe me and think it's okay to do it back and kiss a girl without her consent, and still think I'll stay with you, you are crazy." The Blonde queen of the school spun on her heel and walked out the door. 3 seconds passed and Percy ran out after her, hearing the shouts at Luke and lots of soda spilling onto the floor. Odds were the people were protecting the queen, punishing Luke. Percy looked around the area and found the girl walking somewhere. 

"Annabeth." He called, making her turn around. She looked at him sadly. Percy frowned, Annabeth should never be sad it didn't suit her.

"He didn't believe me." Her voice was barely audible, it was clear she was holding back tears. Percy wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. "He didn't believe me." She said again, he felt water hit his shoulder. Her tears were quiet, just quiet and painful. After a minute the water stopped. She weakly clung to his arms.

"Do you want to away from here?" He asked gently. She nodded and Percy led her to his car and opened the door for her to get in. 

His mom was working late so she wasn't home to question why he was bringing home a crying girl. Annabeth took of her heels and sat down at the couch. Percy went to the kitchen and grabbed 2 ice cream cones. Coming back to the main room, he handed her one and she took it gratefully. 

"Thank you." She said softly. 

"Are your parents expecting you at 12?" Percy asked her. She shook her head. 

"No, I was supposed to stay at Luke's," Annabeth said quietly. Percy nodded, wishing he hadn't said that. After a minute of silence, Annabeth laughed humorlessly. "I never thought I'd be that girl crying in her prom dress." A hand reached up and touched the crown. "Or, I guess the crying prom queen." She laughed hollowly. 

Despite what was going on, Percy couldn't help but admire her dress. It was a light blue color, his favorite color. Mermaid style, it hugged her body and flared out at the bottom. It was off the shoulder and was clearly something a princess would wear. 

"I didn't cheat on him. Not with you. Not with anyone else." Annabeth said softly. Percy nodded his head. 

"You would never. He was a fool to not listen." He said. Annabeth laughed humorlessly and looked up and then back at him. 

"I should have known that would happen. He's always been crazy jealous and asks me about all my male friends." She took a bite of ice cream. "I brought it upon myself didn't I." Her voice was weak, small, fragile. Things Annabeth was not.

 Percy shook his head in disagreement. "No, you just cared for him enough to look past the flaws." Annabeth smiled at him. 

"Thank you. For just getting me out of there. Sorry, I'm invading and running your night." The blonde said shyly. She was not doing such things. "It's okay, I wasn't doing much." He told her. Percy looked at the TV and then back at her. 

"Wanna watch a movie?" He asked. She nodded her head. "Sure."

They put on a funny movie, but soon realized that it was much more fun to do commentary on it. Then they realized it was even more fun to just talk and ignore the movie. Percy told her about his life in high school and things he could remember from grade 2. Annabeth laughed at his stories and told him about her adventures with friends. 

"Really? That was you and Leo?" She laughed. Percy nodded his head. "That was so funny!" Percy was so happy to make her laugh after a night like this had occurred. "Thanks for cheering me up and helping," Annabeth said when her laughter died down. She had a smile this time on her pretty face. Percy tried to act nonchalantly but it probably wasn't working. "This makes us friends now... I think... are we?" She looked so hopefully, like a little owl with those big eyes. 

"Of course!" Percy said with a grin. Even without the cute eyes he would have said the same thing. They were friends now. 

And for the next 3 months, they became closer and closer. He helped her with the breakup, the school had done right by their queen and Luke was no more a beloved king amongst villagers. He was now the lowest of the lows, like dirt or a mouse everyone drove away. The feeling Percy had had since age 7, only grew and grew till he was sure he was completely in love with this girl. It came down to the end of the year party, set at the beach and the entire 11th grade had come out and was planning to have a blast together. Percy was planning to tell Annabeth how he felt, after some 10 or 11 years. 

"Wise girl! My mom made cookies, come help me!" Percy called Annabeth while standing by his car. 

"On my way." She said from the other line. Annabeth did come up to Percy's very blue car. 

"I'll grab these two boxes... and then run away." She laughed before printing away with said boxes. 

"HEY!" Percy yelled after her, locking his car and following her across the beach. 

"Hey Reyna, here the cookies." He smiled at their class president and he and Annabeth stacked the boxes. 

"Hey wise girl. Wanna go for a beach walk?"

That's how they ended up in a secluded part of the beach, not private, just less public. It had lots of palm trees around it and the water was clear as can be, no people or sea creatures to be found. Annabeth had excitedly taken off her coverup and got into the water. Percy tried not to faint from seeing her in a swimsuit. He didn't like her just for her body, but she was a very attractive person. 

"Too slow?" She called out to him. Percy dramatically put his hand to his head and stumbled back. He was a swimmer for goodness sake and a pretty good one. Taking off his shirt he dived into the water after her and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her down to the sand. He let go soon enough so she could get on her feet but her pouty face was too adorable for Percy to say anything too. 

In all honestly, Percy's felt his face warm up, even in cool water by touching her. He ran a hand through his black hair and prayed that she didn't notice the redness splashed on his cheeks. Annabeth's sly face on was on and before he knew it, she ran at him and knocked him on his back, her landing and laughing on top of him. Oh, there's the red. Percy's face was so hot you could probably grill on them. 

"Annabeth." Percy started seriously. The blonde stopped her giggling and corked her head, a sign she was listening. "I have to tell you something." Percy took a deep breath and sat up, Annabeth did so too, sitting next to him on the sand. 

"I li-"

He was cut off by Annabeth's lips on his. The words fizzled out when his brained realized it. Annabeth tasted like lemon drops and vanilla cake. Percy had kissed girls before but this one with Annebth, it was gentle and sweet. It was perfect. Just like her.  

After a few seconds, she pulled apart, but not straying too far. "You may be a seaweed brain and oblivious as ever but it doesn't I am. I've been waiting months for you to finally tell me." She laughed and it sounded like music to Percy's ears. 

"Dang, so I could have kissed you months ago?" He joked. The blonde rolled her eyes. 

"Yeah, you could have. Like since prom." Annabeth told him. Percy looked at her unconvinced. 

"Oh don't give me that look. I kept your bracelet for 10 years. I liked you then and I like you now." She tapped his nose. Percy sputtered. Wait, 10 years ago? 

"Yes," Annabeth said as if she could read his mind, but she was probably just reading his facial expression. 

"I'm kind of glad I waited though. This is the perfect place to kiss you." Percy said after a minute of trying to compute. Annabeth laughed and leaned her head on his shoulder. 

It was a romance over ten years in the making. Finally set off on a night where Annabeth Chase, Queen of the school, and Percy Jackson, a mere villager came together. She had the crown of the school, the prom queen's crown atop her head. But a special monumental, the gift he had given her years ago, the key to his heart and gift to his love, a bracelet on her wrist. And now his heart was in her hands. Whether she decided to squeeze it into dust or protect it at all cost didn't matter. 

Percy Jackson had given his everything to the queen. 

And.

Annabeth Chase gave her everything to the new king.