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nothing-but-dreamy · 4 years ago

Text

CATCH ME IF YOU CAN!

Pairing: DEV. CONNOR X FEM!ANDROID!READER (yn - your name)

Words: 2.686

Warning: steamy situation; small cursing

A thief had been running through Detroit, broke into random villas and robbed jewellery, money and other small valuable things. Hank and Connor were assigned to this case because the first crime scene showed signs of an android being the suspect. There were no fingerprints, the alarm systems were methodically hacked and witnesses were sure to have seen an unknown android around their neighbourhoods right before the break-in.

The two investigators got a description of the thief which fitted to a former GL200, a female security android named YN. You differed from the usual form of this type of android because you got described with a bright, red hair color and your uniform got changed to elegantly clothes at day and tight fitting catsuits by night. Usually, Connor had expected that such a striking android would attract more attention but for him and Hank, it was very difficult to catch you. Mostly, because you were … very good.

Now, two weeks after your first raid, Connor felt some kind of satisfaction as he locked his handcuffs around your wrists. Two long weeks, Connor and Hank were chasing you and it always looked as if you were two steps ahead of the cops. No matter what the two men did, you were able to escape every single time. Not one single trap they had laid out for you was enough to arrest you.

During this case, Connor had seen you several times fleeing from the crime scenes with a mocking grin on your lips to taunt him. He had run after you each time he saw you but he was never able to get even close to you. Once you were even jumping from a roof to escape him. As Connor thought you might be dead because of the height of the building, he saw you climbing through a window of a building on the other side, smooth like a cat. You turned over to him to wave with a triumphantly smirk on your lips before you bowed slightly to disappear then into the darkness of the abandoned building.

You were able to make him doubt himself and his skills as a cop. How was it possible for you to slip through his hands every single time? But now, this had changed. After another hunt, Connor was finally able to catch you. And to hear the clicking sound of the metal around your small arms was like music in his ears. While Hank gave you the typical police speech, your attention was just with Connor who brought you over to a car of a waiting police officer.

“Congratulations, you have finally caught me, Connor. I’m proud of you.”, you said teasingly. Connor was surprised that you knew his name but he tried to stay unaffected to your comment. He opened the back door of the car and helped you go in. Connor gave the officer instructions but your eyes were still glued just at him. Connor was confused by the smirk on your lips. After all, you got caught by the police. There was no room to … smirk.

***

Back in the police station, you got brought into a free cell by Hank. He ignored no matter how often you asked for Connor. For several hours, you stayed alone in the cell waiting for what might happen. After a while, one by one, the lights in the office turned off and you knew you were alone for the night. So, you did what you always did when you were alone: you started to sing. It was a soft song with a melodically tune. You had found it in the database and after you had heard it, you already loved it.

“Stop singing.”, Connor called out through the empty and half dark office. Your voice was nice and melodically. The song you sang was beautiful and it interfered with his concentration.

“Oh, you’re still here, Connor? I thought I would be all alone.”, you called back. Connor heard the smile and true surprise vibrating in your voice. As Connor stayed silent, you tried to get his attention again.

“Then, please, come to me.”, you begged.

“Why? You want to confess, finally?”, Connor asked with a grin that was even audible in his voice.

“No, but I’m feeling lonely. And I don’t like to be alone.”, you admitted with an acted sadness. Connor closed his eyes and counted to five how Hank had teached him to do whenever he felt overwhelmed by some kind of situation. This tactic should clear his mind to stay calm … most of the time, Gavin was the trigger. This time, he had to stay cautious because you were very smart. As he reached ‘five’, Connor stood up from his desk and walked over to the cell where you were lying on the bed playing with one of your shiny strands of hair. Your matte black catsuit let not much room for any fantasies and you knew how to present yourself.

“Spend some time with me, please.”, you begged pouting as you saw Connor slowly approaching. Connor stepped to the glass and looked down at you.

“You’re a criminal.”

“And? Even criminals can feel alone.”, you replied with a cute tilt of your head to one side as you sat up.

“So, you’re not denying what you did then? You agree that you’re a thief?”

“You’ve caught me in a villa which wasn’t mine. So, I barely can deny I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”, you answered grinning.

“And the other robberies?”, Connor asked, trying to trick you to make a confession. Slowly, you stood up to step closer to the glass which separated you two from each other. You shook your hair so it was falling dramatically over your back. It was an impressive sight, like liquid fire, Connor had to admit.

“Come in this cell and spend some time with me, please. Maybe, I will tell you what you want to know.”, you said seductively before you gnawed on your lower lip, your eyes still connected with his gold-flecked brown ones as you looked through your lashes at him. Connor’s eyes darted quickly down to your full lips and back to your eyes. It was a fast move but you had noticed it.

Connor knew exactly what you tried. You used your appearance to flirt with him to get what you wanted. Maybe he could use this knowledge to get what he wanted from you instead: the confession about the thefts from the last two weeks to close this case. Prepared with the purpose not to fall for your tricks, Connor opened the cell door with his artificial hand and stepped into the room as the door slid open. To show your good intentions, you stayed where you were: leaning against the glass wall innocently. Connor stayed on the opposite wall, leant against it with his back and crossed his arms over his chest to observe you.

“So, I am here. You wanted to talk, so talk.”, Connor said calmly.

“No, I didn’t want to talk. I said I didn’t want to be alone.”, you corrected him with a smirk.

“You know, YN, why aren’t you just telling me the truth, huh? I promise you will feel better after it.”, Connor said serious. He was confused as he saw your grin getting bigger.

“Oh, Connor, is it possible that you’re concerned about my well-being?��, you asked while pushing yourself from the glass.

“No, I’m just concerned about the case.”, Connor answered serious. Very slowly, you walked over to him.

“You know, you’re very sexy when you’re so serious.”, you said with a low and lascivious voice.

“Stop flirting, YN. Now, it’s not the right time.”, Connor said, watching you coming closer to him. Your red hair was falling in thick waves over your shoulders and bounced slightly with every step.

“The time is always right when you meet someone you like. Especially you should know that, Connor.”

“What are you talking about?”, Connor asked and tried to keep the confusion out of his voice. It wasn’t working. You heard it nevertheless. Slowly, you approached him step by step until you stood close in front of him. Just his crossed arms kept you from stepping even closer.

“Come on, don’t act like that. I know you like me. I saw it whenever you were chasing me.”, you said low with a lust filled voice. Slowly, you entangled Connor’s arms, so you were able to let your hands dance slowly over the fabric of his jacket while you still looked into his eyes.

“I don’t know what you mean, YN.”, Connor said and tried to sound serious but even he heard that his voice betrayed him. You chuckled about it and the grin stayed on your lips as you moved your hands teasingly slowly underneath the jacket. Your fingertips roamed over his chest, down his stomach and to the belt. Connor watched your moves closely and he knew he had to stop you but he couldn’t. Your glance was hypnotizing while the touch of your small hands had a perfect pressure on his body. Everything had an unknown effect on him and … unfortunately, he had to admit that he liked it.

“You sure?”, you asked teasingly, your fingers, already back on their way up along his body. You reached the knot of his tie to open it, “I mean, I saw you, Connor. Everytime, I saw how you looked at me. Even now, in this cell, you think about how my lips might be tasting.”, you whispered seductively. With each word, you had slowly opened the buttons of his suit shirt and now, you laid your hands on his bare chest. Everything inside of him screamed that he should run but he couldn’t.

You were right and he hated it. He had thought about you in a not case relevant way. That he wasn’t saying anything or moving was for you the sign that you were right and so, you continued. With appreciative moves, you stroked over his chest, over his neck and to his face to cup it while you got on your tiptoes to reach his lips where you stopped just inches away.

“You want to kiss me? Then do it-”, you breathed before you got stopped with Connor’s lips crashing on yours for a hungry kiss. You were surprised about his force and hunger, so you stumbled back but Connor snaked his arms around your middle to pull you close against his body while you clawed your hands into his open suit shirt. You recovered quickly and so, Connor let go of you so he could bury his hands into your long, soft hair. The kiss became more passionate with hands everywhere and bringing each other as close as possible to feel each other. Connor muttered your name breathlessly and you even started to moan sensually. You never had expected him to be such a great kisser. He was skilled and knew what he had to do to make you swoon.

With your fingers digging into his brown, tousled hair, you broke the kiss and Connor looked confused at you. You grinned while you stroked with your thumb teasingly over his perfect lips. You stepped back, to create a little space between you two. Your hand reached to the rim of your catsuit where the zipper was. With a very slow and teasingly move, your fingers closed around it to open it slowly. Connor stared at you, his brown eyes becoming darker as he realized what you were about to do.

Connor was so distracted by your glance, your lips and the moves of your swaying hips that he didn’t realize that you were still stepping away from him and then, it was too late. Everything happened very fast. You did one more step which triggered the door to slid open. You slipped through it and laid your hand on the palm scanner to hack it within one second. For you, no problem. As Connor reached the glass door, cursing and all, it was closing tightly in front of him and he slammed his hands violently against it with a thud sound.

“Open the door!”, Connor demanded, punching against the material. You leant against the door from the other side while you closed the zipper again.

“No. Look, I can’t. You have to understand me. I don’t do any harm. I’m just stealing from the rich. And I want to continue with that.”, you explained. The raging expression on Conner’s face let you smirk, “But where would be the fun without you chasing me?”

“So, what? Getting yourself caught was part of your plan the whole time?”

“Yes.”, you admitted with a nod.

“Why?”

You turned over to look him into the eyes. Even if he was mad at you, he was extremely sexy. You still saw passion and lust blazing in his dark eyes. You had awoken something inside of him and he couldn’t deny the effect you had on him.

“I wanted to meet you, Connor. I was dreaming about kissing you for a long time, like you did. And you have to admit that we’re good together. I’m already hungry for more.”, you said low while you stepped back. Connor slammed his hands against the door once again.

“Let me out!”, he grunted but you shook your head.

“No. Catch me again and we can continue where we have stopped.”, you said with a wink before you walked down the hallway.

“YN! Come back!”, Connor screamed, he couldn’t even see you anymore.

“I will see you later, sweetheart.”

“YN!”, Connor screamed, “YN, god damnit!”, he called out and slammed his fist one more time against the door but he knew that you wouldn’t come back. He heard the fading sound of your clicking high heels.

***

As Hank entered the DPD the next morning, he got greeted by laughter. Gavin was the loudest of a group of cops which stood near the cells. Connor was nowhere to be seen and so, Hank closed up to the group to check what was going on.

“You two are the best cops in the whole fucking world. You have my biggest respect. looser.”, Gavin said, teasingly grinning, started to laugh loudly again and disappeared in the kitchen. The others also dispersed after Gavin was gone. Hank, still confused, walked along the empty cells and stopped frowning as he reached the first cell. The cell where he had put you in. With crossed arms, he leant against the glass wall with his shoulder and looked down at Connor who sat on the bank. With his elbows placed on his knees, Connor had buried his face into his hands and didn’t look up. His suit shirt was still unbuttoned and his tie hung loosely around his neck while his hair was tousled.

"She had fooled you, right?", Hank asked. It wasn’t a real question rather a statement.

"Yeah...", Connor admitted low, nodding slowly.

“Don’t worry, you’re not the first guy who got tricked by a woman.”, Hank tried to reassure the android. Hank had to bite back a grin. Just the idea was kinda funny for him.

“Maybe. But I promise you, I will catch her again!”, Connor said and looked up. He walked to the door Hank had opened for Connor to get out of the cell finally.

“She won’t be in the city any longer. I’m sure she will be miles away by now.”, Hank said but Connor looked at him and shook his head.

“No, I’m sure we will see her again. And then, I will be prepared.”, Connor said with a lopsided smirk and a determined expression. Hank saw something in his partner’s eyes that he understood as the thrill of the chase. Maybe it was just the wish to pay it back to you but it also could be something else. Something more … personally.

Now, where Connor had tasted you, finding you again had become his new mission.

And he always accomplished his mission.

#dbh connor #dbh #connor dbh #dbh connor x reader #dbh rk800 #dbh fanfic #detroit become human #fandom #fanfic #fanfiction #steamy #x reader #writing

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goldenagewebnovel · 3 years ago

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Volume 1 Prologue

Virtual Reality.

The ever sought after paradise for everyone who loves video games.

The first virtual reality developments came in the beginning of the century, but they were all based on external hardware. Awkward remotes and gloves, bulky goggles. The hardware became smaller, sleeker, more immersive over time. But in the end, all they were was an entertaining trick — limited by what it could show and who could even physically use it.

They brought the player closer to the screen then ever before. But they could never bridge the gap between the real world and the game. The true holy grail of gaming would lie in fully immersive virtual reality; that would take you to the very edge of the screen, and then pull you inside. To wake up inside your favorite game, whenever you wanted. It was the dream that could never be.

And then came the Digital Mind Project.

A private think tank based in the city of Seattle. They gathered the world’s best programers, neurologists, biologists, and psychologists. After working for over a decade, they did it. They mapped and named every possible neural pathway in the human brain and explained it’s function. They created the first complete, digital model of the mind, and it could think like one.

Overnight, the processing speed of all technology in the world skyrocketed. Data could be processed faster and more efficiently then ever imagined. Brain diseases that seemed incurable now had mapped explanations and accessible cures.

The digital and physical revolution that resulted led some people to question where the limit really was. If you can put the human mind in a machine, couldn’t it work the other way around?

Countries, governments, armies, corporations — they all fought to develop and control this untouched potential. But the leaders of the Digital Mind Project had decided to join the race, and, just like before, they won. They developed a full scanning pod, that only required a user to sit in it. The pod would sync to the electric signals of the nerves pathways and, upon triggering sleep, allowed the person to fully connect to the machine.

They sold the design for the pods to every business that could afford it, all at the same time. In the middle of the 21st century the age of Virtual Reality had truly begun.

The first games to come out were… disappointing, to say the least. Barely more then tech demos. Allowing the player to get a unique experience but hardly qualifying as a true game. A rushed attempt at formatting a classic MMORPG as the VR game, Fields of Fighting, was a disaster. It was riddled with horribly coded AI, clunky, unnatural movements, invisible walls everywhere that could physically trap players by accident. It was unplayable.

All the technology you could ever need for VR was available, but game designers were struggling to catch up. They had to learn to think and create in a whole new dimension. The old techniques wouldn’t cut it.

That learning curve led to a drought in Full VR games. Most companies stuck to their tried and true dimension of game design, and if people were lucky they might see a halfway decent Full VR game release once or twice a year.

Then, without any warning, two of the biggest games to hit the market were released in the same year.

The first was a sprawling, open world RPG called, Record of the Ancients. Set in the fantasy genre, this was a single player game that offered its players absolute freedom of choice to explore the world and affect it however they wanted. The game held its own share of bugs and the occasional empty plain or lack of detail, but there was nothing else like it.

The second game was a massive multiplayer sci-fi battle called, Solar Forge. Players could freely participate in large scale, solar system spanning battles. Anything from piloting a ship, to organizing a galactic cruiser, to dropping into and storming an enemy vessel with your squad. Two teams ranging anywhere from 50 to 300 participants all fighting a space war to decide a victor. The largest scale fights could even span days, and a lot of people became addicted to acting as a space marine.

These two games sold more then anyone dared to dream, proving just how unique Full VR gaming could really be. They also set the trend for how these games would be approached. Either broad, if shallow, experiences in a large environment or the chance for rich world building but in a very narrow and strict environment. No one would even attempt to make up for the failed promises made by the flopped Fields of Fighting experience.

Things stayed this way for over a decade. New games came and fell, but Record of the Ancients and Solar Forge remained on top.

One day, without any big press releases or industry fanfare, a new game started putting up commercials and advertisement. It promised to revolutionize Full VR and offer an experience greater then any of it’s predecessors. Deeper, more detailed worlds. No restrictions on player freedom. An MMORPG that could support millions of players across the world, all at the same time.

These claims were so preposterously huge that no one believed it. Especially because they were being made by a brand new games company called Aurum Productions, that no one had even heard of before.

But the ads kept coming.

And once people started looking into the game, and more specifically, Aurum Productions, they learned that this new game had some shocking secret weapons going for it. The founder of Aurum Productions was a man named Mike Wirth, one of the former lead programers of the Digital Mind Project. He had brought a gift for this new game: a new piece of technology called, Player Perception Tuning (PPT).

In order to allow the most robust, flexible, and realistic experience possible a machine alone couldn’t cut it. Instead, PPT allows the players own brain, already synced with their pod, to process the game’s data for them on the spot.

Instead of having to code every aspect of the game to recreate reality, they instead offer the brain a very convincing framework of reality, and allow the individual brain to fill in all the pieces. Instead of realism, the programers were going for impressionism.

What they got was more realistic then any game ever made before it.

Since every player was acting as their own processor, it made it much easier to have everyone play at once. Since they only had to design the framework, the game team at Aurum had that much more freedom to create a real, enriched world.

In the summer of the year 2076, the groundbreaking Full VR, fantasy MMORPG, Golden Age, released.

__________________________________

In the void of space, above an endless fog, floats an island of gold and riches. There are artifacts, weapons, and sculptures — all crafted from precious metals and rare gems. Priceless artworks and fine clothing are lazily scattered about. The ground is made up of gold bars and golden coins. They drip from the bottom of the island into the void of the fog, but the island never grows smaller.

At the center of the island, purple strands of energy gather together to construct a humanoid wireframe.

From nowhere and everywhere at once, the Overvoice of the game speaks.

Hello, would you like to customize your character, or would you like a randomly generated one?

A voice from the wireframe responds.

“I’d like to customize.”

Very well.

From all over the island, wisps of light gather together to form a giant ball of light in front of the wireframe.

First, please select what race you would like your character to be. You can chose from Human, Dwarf, Orc, or Elf. You may also choose a ratio, of two of the previously mentioned.

“Human.”

Very well.

Some of the light gets shaved away, scattering into space. The ball of light has now roughly taken the size and shape of a human.

Please select what sex you would like your character to be.

“Um, I’ll take male for me.”

Very well.

Barely any light is shaved away but the figure of light now resembles a blank human male.

Please select your body type.

“How about we go with svelte but athletic. Like a martial artist kind of build, maybe?”

Very well.

This time, more light is shaved away and the figure now resembles a fit, athletic human man.

Would you like to move on to face sculpting, body sculpting, or voice sculpting next?

“You know what, just have everything else look like my real body.”

Very well.

Light flew away from the human figure in spirals of light until everything burst out. In the place of the light was a tan skinned, human man. The body was still athletic, decently tall, had long sideburns, stubble on it’s chin, gray eyes, and streaks of gray hair at the temples and the front. It had on a set of cotton pants and a cotton shirt, tied down by a coarse rope, and simple leather shoes. The body stared lifelessly at the wireframe in front of it.

In front of the wireframe, a hologram of a keyboard appeared.

Please spell the name of your character.

The wireframe reached out with a hand and pressed: D, 0, n. And hit enter.

Please pronounce how to say the name of your character.

“You pronounce it like you would for an Italian mob boss. Or like the dawn of a new day.”

Very well. Please step forward into your character to initiate syncing.

The wireframe took clumsy steps towards the human body in front of it. On contact, the purple lines of energy that made up the wireframe fused into the human body.

I could suddenly feel everything. The clothes against my skin. The shifting, hard coins that made up the ground under my feet. The cool breeze that started to blow across my face.

In front of my eyes I could see that the endless sky of space, littered with stars and streaks of purple throughout. Streams of the gold coins that made up the island were flowing off the edges. They were dispersing the fog.

In front of the island was a floating circular flat world. Absolutely huge, it took up my whole vision. There were three distinct continents in the center of the wide ocean.

The one on the left was made of sweeping mountain ranges and floating islands, that looked like they were made of gemstones.

The one on the bottom was a giant archipelago, made up of countless, rich islands.

The one on the right had sprawling green fields and verdant forests and crystal blue lakes.

The edge of the world had a misty, thick fog all around it, but I could see waterfalls flowing into the void of space underneath. The sun was bright and lit up everything beautifully. I could hear rising orchestral music playing from somewhere. From nowhere and everywhere at once, the Overvoice of the game spoke to me.

Welcome, to the world of Golden Age, D0n.

I felt like I could stare at that sight forever.

But I didn’t have that chance. Suddenly the ground began to rumble under my feet. The streams of gold flowing off the side rushed forward, and huge swaths of the island began to break off.

Eventually, the whole island destabilized, falling to the planet below. I went with it. As I was falling among columns of gold and treasure, I heard the Overvoice again.

Due to your region of origin, you will be starting in the Plains Continent. Below, you will enter the Tutorial Village. There, we have provided class instructors, resources, and all the knowledge you will need to explore the game. Have fun.

The ground was getting closer and closer. I could no longer see the edge of the world. Below me was an impossibly thick cloud.

All of the gold around me started to dissolve into particles of light.

I was in the middle of an uncontrollable free fall. The wind was rushing past me so fast it was whipping at my clothes and shoving my hair away. My eyes were tearing up from the force of it.

I felt a wide smile, that showed all my teeth, spread across my face.

It was time to play the game.

#Volume 1 #Story

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m00nlitknight · 5 years ago

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some misc bowers gang hcs

henry.

absolutely fucking loves country music. in modern day terms, he knows ( and sings! ) every word to big green tractor whenever possible

yeehaw accent.

almost every cd and cassette he has are gifts from vic and belch

there are two reasons he doesn’t have a lisence:

1. butch never took him to get his permit, so belch took him like once

2. his eyesight prevented him from being able to see the street signs and he got frustrated and left

he hasn’t gone back because he’s embarrassed and patrick is fucking relentless

doesn’t watch much tv? butch throws fits when he turns it on and it isn’t on something he wants, so sometimes the house is out of a tv entirely

likes gunsmoke, hogan’s heroes, the flinstones, and M*A*S*H, though

drinks so much beer. So Much. thinks he’s manly ( ew )

other then that he prefers water, actually

very easy to rile up, obviously

bare minimum at school! his grades show it. trust me when i say it; you do not want to be his partner.

wants to get out of derry but doesn’t know how.

belch.

more of a bluegrass guy tbh

listents to rock and metal / guitar-heavy music more primarily. metallica, black sabbath, led zeppelin, etc.

helps henry learn to drive, albeit illegally

amy isn’t his only form of transportation. he has two other cars, and changes the insurance around for when he needs them

the other two are a truck and an economy-friendly car

his mother leaves a very big imprint on his life which he translates to his friendships / aka. he’s a mother hen

can and will cook food and be a place for henry to stay for the night

honestly, has taught the other three a lot from things like driving to basic table manners. they didnt retain much.

one of the kinder of the four, but still has a very prickly outside to anyone else outside of the gang

watches the news sometimes

really likes apple and orange juice

watches the news more often then anything else, when he’s by himself. otherwise, henry typically gets control of the tv

wears his heart on his sleeve around his friends. quite possibly the most sensitive, if it weren’t for henry’s outbursts.

does okay at school, but he puts in work as the years go on. torn on wanting to get out of derry and not get out of derry. probably the type to look back at hs as his ‘best years’

way, way too loyal.

patrick.

doesn’t give a shit about much of anything

but he likes music ( sometimes )

listens to anything and everything ( surprisingly, when he’s in the mood for it ), especially if someone else with him doesn’t like it

made himself a fake i.d., so he usually gets the liquor

got his permit revoked because he was caught buzzed and pulled over. also drive soley by himself.

got his mom’s car impounded because of that.

technically grounded for his entire life but just Does Not Listen

smokes any kind of cigarette thrown his way; he’s not picky

but he’s very picky with his food and television.

prefers cartoons ( look at me and tell me he wouldn’t love rick and morty. ) and non-nutritious foods like mac n cheese, frozen pizza, chicken nuggets, etc

what the Fuck is a vegetable?

surprising he doesn’t have scurvy yet

sometimes he tries his hand at poetry. and lyric writing.

never sees the light of day bc he uses it as kindling.

same with his homework!

school is a complete waste of time to him

very little to no aspirations. probably voted ‘most likely to become a crytpid’ at school. doesn’t give a shit about getting out of derry

vic.

this boy feels nothing or entirely too much, but keeps it bottled up

once belch played country music while all four were cramped into the cab of his truck.

vic nearly launched himself out the window to throw himself into a lake.

basically; fucking hates country music

he’s the one patrick likes to fuck with most so naturally, patrick plays most songs he does’t enjoy

as for what he enjoys; he likes anything with a quick beat and catchy tune

has a lisence, but doesn’t have a car. once belch let him drive amy and henry threw a fit because he didn’t want to sit in the back. ( he did )

eats the cleanest, prefers drinking water. but, drinks alcohol socially

listens to the radio more then watches tv, honestly

when he sees something he thinks his friends would like he either steals it, or depending on the price and place, buys it

the most sociable to people outside of the gang. not very hard to do, though

puts in little work at school, naturally does pretty well. quite possibly on an honor roll?

has aspirations to do something like be a lawyer. really wants to get out of derry.

#bowers gang fanfiction #writing.txt #patrick hockstetter x reader #henry bowers x reader #belch huggins x reader #vic criss x reader #bowers gang imagine #bowers gang headcanons #long post

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 4 years ago

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If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Thirty Two

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

November 4th, 1993

Emile swallowed and shifted on his feet as his mom looked him over. He must have been quite the sight, covered head to toe in dirt and blood. To be fair, Sully had started the fight, but something told him that Mom wouldn’t want to hear that right now. Sully had started it, but Emile had finished it. By shoving Sully into the side of the building, which happened to be where the metal gutter was, landing Sully with a concussion.

Finally, his mom took a breath. Emile knew this lecture was going to be long, but he didn’t know exactly how long it might be, and that’s where the real fear kicked in. He hoped he’d have time for dinner before bed, but judging by the look Mom was giving him, his odds weren’t very high.

May 26th, 2001

Emile finally left his room when his dad called up that it was time for lunch. He walked down the stairs to find Remy resolutely not looking at him as he sat at the table with a plate of meatballs with some sauce Emile couldn’t identify, and rice on the side. Emile sat down next to him tentatively, where another plate was waiting. Remy didn’t acknowledge him.

His mom and dad came in with plates of their own, his mom said grace, and they all started to eat. Remy went for the rice first, but Emile was curious and immediately halved a meatball, skewering it and humming in surprise. The olive oil brought a depth of flavor to the meatballs that he had never tasted before! “The olive oil was a good call, Rem,” Emile said. “I’m super impressed.”

Remy’s eyes flickered over to him for half a second. “You mean that?”

“Yeah! I’ve never had the meatballs taste like this before, and it’s absolutely delicious.”

Remy’s smile at that was small, and shy, but completely genuine. He wasn’t putting up a front, or playing up his emotions. He was genuinely pleased. And in Emile’s mind, he definitely should be. “It’s been forever since I’ve cooked,” Remy admitted. “I missed it.”

“Well, if this is what you can do with simple ingredients, we’ll have to invest in real food more often,” Emile said. “This is, without a doubt, the best meal I’ve had in months.”

“Emile!” Remy laughed, cheeks flaming red. “You’re gonna embarrass me!”

Emile shrugged and said, “Well, I’m just sharing my opinion,” before backing off and going back to eating.

The atmosphere in the room was slightly less tense after that, though no one really said much, aside from the occasional praise to Remy about improving the recipe. Remy ducked his head with a blush every time, but Emile could see that he really enjoyed the end result of his experiment. It got Emile thinking. Remy would make an excellent cook at a restaurant, or he could probably make new mixes for coffee at the smaller chain, if his managers let him. But food service seemed to be where Remy excelled. He knew a lot about business and math, but he enjoyed cooking. He tucked that thought away for later. He was sure he could make sense out of a half-baked idea at some point in the future.

“So, Remy, do you want to tell us a little about yourself?” Mom asked. “Obviously, you’re a wonderful cook, but outside that.”

Remy shrugged. “I mean, I kinda like sports. Not to the point where I’d be called a sports nut, but it passes the time, and it’s fun to play and to watch. I’ve read some...novels, and books, but uh...my biggest hobby by far has to be...uh...comics. Like, DC, Marvel, anything in between, indie companies, I love them all.”

“Oh, that’s nice!” Mom said. “Do you think you like comics as much as Emile likes cartoons?”

“I’m not sure if anyone could like anything as much as Emile likes cartoons,” Remy laughed. “But yeah, I’m pretty enthusiastic about them.”

“Who’s your favorite superhero? You can’t like comics without having some kind of favorite superhero. Or perhaps a supervillain?” Dad asked.

“How about an antihero?” Remy shot back. “Deadpool is by far my favorite comic series. Anything with Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy comes in second, and first for everything DC, but Deadpool takes the cake.”

“He’s tried to explain the timelines to me, but I can’t keep up with them,” Emile said with a shake of his head. “It’s too confusing.”

“You just lack the ability to apply ret-conning,” Remy informed him. “That makes understanding timelines so much easier.”

Emile and Remy fell into banter about whether or not cartoons or comics were better that had them both laughing by the end of lunch. Everyone put their dishes in the kitchen to be washed later and Dad asked, “Do you boys want to do anything in particular? If you want, we can always go to the community center for a game of basketball or something similar.”

“Uh...if you don’t mind, Mister Thomas, I’d like to talk to Emile alone a minute, first,” Remy said.

Emile’s hair stood on end as his dad nodded. “If I hear shouting, I will come over to break it up,” he said. “You both are mature enough that I hope it won’t be a problem.”

That unspoken behave may as well have been written on a neon sign to Emile. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Remy led him upstairs, back to Emile’s room. Remy closed the door behind him softly and hissed, “How many times do I have to tell you, Emile, I don’t like you talking smack about my family!”

“It was a knee-jerk response,” Emile said, crossing his arms.

“The first sentence might have been. The rest certainly wasn’t,” Remy snarled.

“Well, what do you want me to do? Lie to your face and tell you I believe you when you say your parents will change?” Emile challenged. “Look, Rem, I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re setting yourself up to be hurt again putting that hope in your parents!”

“Yeah?” Remy asked. “You’re so certain they’re going to fail me, huh?”

“Every person I’ve ever met who has acted like your mother did never changed their tune. I’m speaking from experience, Remy! I don’t want you to get hurt anymore!”

“They can change!” Remy exclaimed. “They took Vanessa and Toby and I on trips when we were little, and they were doting and caring to all of us at one point or another. They have good in them, Emile! They have good days! They can get more good days if they only put in the effort!”

“Is it worth it, though?” Emile asked. “You’re ripping at the seams, a thread that’s slowly unravelling into insanity. You know your parents weren’t good to you, Rem. You’ve been over this with me and with Kim. But do you know what Kim might not have told you?”

“What?” Remy asked.

“Any good days that they had do not negate the bad days and the hell they put you through most of the time. If you believe they can be good? Then great. Let them prove it to you. Don’t force them to do anything, don’t be the one to reach out first. Make sure that they know you’re serious, you won’t back down, you’re your own person.” Emile shook his head. “You’re making excuses for them and putting all your eggs in one basket. What happens if they don’t come around?”

“They will,” Remy said with certainty.

“But what if they don’t? What happens if they only accept you to a point? They say that you can be who you want in terms of a job, but you can’t be gay, or you can’t have certain people as your friends? There’s always something with those types, Rem. Something will always keep them from being happy.”

Remy’s fists were shaking at his sides. He brought up a hand and Emile flinched, but Remy just pointed. “You know that you can act like a real ass, Emile? It’s not just me who has my moments, or my months!”

Emile took a deep breath, remembering his mother’s words about being gentle. “Remy, I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, holding his hands up. “I’m trying to be realistic, and I know you don’t like it when I sugarcoat things.”

“You talk about my family like they’re all scum,” Remy said. “Well not all of them are that bad, or bad at all! Toby’s the one who gave me ‘the talk’ when I told him I was gay! Vanessa always snuck me snacks if I was banished to my room for however long and I might have missed a meal! Nate and Magenta are angels! Not all my family is my parents, Emile, and even my parents have the potential to change!”

“But it’s only potential, Rem. I don’t want you taking all your hopes and putting it on potential. I don’t want your mom to keep stalking you. I don’t want your parents to ship you off to the military. I don’t want you getting hurt. I just...I can’t find the pretty words to explain why something won’t work!” Emile exclaimed. “I know it can’t work, but you disagree, and I can’t figure out how to get you to see it from my side!”

“I have seen it from your side!” Remy exclaimed. “I saw it from your side on Thanksgiving. When my mom came to me at work. When I put all my hopes on you and moved in with you. But you have extreme, visceral reactions whenever my family gets brought up that make me feel sick to my stomach. They’re not bad people, Emile!”

“They’re bad parents,” Emile insisted. “And bad grandparents. Your cousins and Vanessa are mostly off the hook for now, and Toby was never on it, but your parents? And grandparents? And the aunts and uncles who wouldn’t stand in your corner when you needed it? They’re hurting you, whether intentional or not, actively or passively. And I don’t want to see you hurt!” Emile’s eyes were clouding with tears. “I love you, you idiot! I don’t want to see you hurt!”

“But you hurt me too! When you say my family is evil and my parents are bad and toxic, that hurts me too! Because I want to believe that my family can be good! And you refuse to give them that chance!” Remy hugged own torso. “Maybe I give them too much of a chance, but you definitely give them too little. I could change, why couldn’t they?”

“Rem...” Emile trailed off. “You didn’t change. They tried to change you and you resisted, and you put up walls and fronts around yourself to get their approval, but you were always a kind, caring person at heart. That’s you. And they...they aren’t.”

Remy scowled at him.

Emile shook his head. “I’m sorry, Rem. But I can’t...this is one thing I can’t sugarcoat even if I wanted to. You deserve to know that your parents were hurting you. Are hurting you, even now.”

Remy crossed his arms. “So, what, I’m just supposed to go through life without parents? Without family? Without a safety net? Just free fall the second my mental health takes a dive and crash onto the pavement below?”

“No,” Emile said. “You can borrow my parents and family if you need. You have me, and Clara, and Theo, and Xavier, and all of our mutual friends as a safety net. The second your mental health takes a dive we’ll be there to support you in any way we’re able to.”

Remy kept his arms crossed, eyes growing glassy with tears. “But what if I don’t want you? What if I don’t want them? What if...what if all I really want is my parents there for me? My mother supporting my decisions, and my father praising my hard work?! What if I want that?!”

The last word was shouted at max volume, and Emile could hear his dad rushing up the steps. Emile swallowed. “Well, Rem...you can’t always get what you want.”

Remy’s face darkened and he bellowed, “Screw you!” just as Emile’s dad rushed in. “You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t go to for help! Maybe I want to reconcile with my parents! Maybe you’re the one being controlling and demanding! You’re the one who’s hurting me, not them!”

“Okay, okay, break it up!” Dad yelled, stepping between them. “Remy, why don’t you go downstairs? I’m sure my wife can help you with whatever you might need at the moment. She has a much gentler touch,” the last part was said with a pointed glance at Emile. “It’s my turn to talk to Emile, now, for a minute.”

The look Emile was getting spoke volumes. He was in massive trouble. Remy huffed and left the room, and Emile braced himself for perhaps the sternest talking-to he would ever have in his life as his stomach sank.

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

Text

1183

survey by xflirtykaosx

Alphabetti Spaghetti (1/3)

And we will fall in love with shooting stars. - A

Have you ever seen an Aardvark? I don’t think so.

Were you ever abandoned in a public place as a child? Where? Abandoned is a pretty harsh word lol. My parents did like playing pranks on me and hide whenever I’d get distracted at the grocery or department store. They’d let me get nervous or even tear up for a bit until showing up again.

What accent do you have? I guess just your standard Filipino English accent that’s common among people who were able to take up English studies. I don’t really know how to describe it.

Is there someone in your family addicted to something? What is it? I don’t think so.

Have you ever been under general anaesthetic? What were you having done? I think so? When I had a tooth extraction done on me two years ago I was told I was going to be injected with anaesthesia, but I didn’t feel as if anything changed throughout the procedure. Either my dentist told me fake news lol or he’s just really good at his job for me to not notice anything.

How do you show the ones you love affection? It depends on the person. Around my friends, I know I’ve had taken a liking to them once I start getting especially talkative with them. For people I have even deeper relationships with, I like...buying them gifts, I guess. Getting them things that remind me of them. I would also bend over backwards to do nice deeds for them, like driving them to their destination even if I find it far.

Are you more passive or aggressive? I tend to be very passive aggressive in the way I deal with things.

Do you like the band Aha!? Not in particular.

Do you know anyone called Aidan? What are they like? Nope.

Ever heard of the band Ajax? No but I know that’s a brand of like cleaner or something. That’s close enough to ‘band’ haha.

Do you know anyone called Akash? I don’t either.

Do the sound of fire alarms scare you? They would obviously be scary if it rang for a real reason. Who wouldn’t freak out over a fire?

Do you live in America? If so, which state? If visited, where'd you go? No, and I’ve never visited either. I’d love to take a trip to cities like New York, New Orleans, Portland, and Chicago one of these days.

Have you ever had an ant infestation in your house? Only when there’s food left out accidentally.

Aora - did I spell that correctly? I don’t even know what you’re referring to, so I can’t tell you if you’ve spelled whatever it is right.

Do you have a preference in Apple? What type do you prefer? I don’t quite get this question - like a preference within Apple products? I mean, a phone and a laptop are essentials for me, and generally I do prefer having an iPhone and Macbook over other brands; but I can live without an iPad, an Apple Watch, iMac, Apple Pen, etc...if this is what you mean.

Are you an Aquarian? Is anyone in your family/your partner/best friend? ...You mean Aquarius? No. I don’t believe in astrology nor pay attention to zodiac signs either, so I wouldn’t be able to name Aquariuses that I know right off the bat.

Have you ever worn any type of armor? Which type? I don’t think I’ve ever had to, no.

Do you use the word ass a lot? Kinda, but it’s usually part of a longer word, i.e. asshole, asshat, deadass, etc.

Have you or your family had an attorney? What for? Not to my knowledge.

Is your car/family’s car an automatic gear or manual? Automatic.

Are you interested in aviation, piloting and aircrafts? Just the slightest bit. I would love to learn how to fly a plane, and I would be willing to pay for lessons. It’s just the type of activity that’s super hard to squeeze into an already-hectic schedule of mine.

What was the last award you recieved for? A academic distinction in college.

Axl Rose - like or dislike? Like, but I’m nowhere near a passionate fan. I just don’t have any reasons to actively dislike him.

Do you like air being spelt ayre or ayer in rap or hiphop or is it nasty? I don’t care.

Is the sky outside Azure? If not, what shade is it? No, it’s pitch black.

Belle amour (we've been here before). - B

Do you call anyone baby? Is it sweet or an overrated name for affection? Just my dogs. I find it sweet; it’s my preferred term of endearment if in a relationship.

Bby - does this shortened version bug you? No; my friends and I use this with each other.

Do you know what BC in terms of time stands for? Before Christ, but I prefer using BCE.

BDf - For or against? I don’t know what this is referring to.

Do you prefer beach breaks, city breaks or winter breaks? Why? Beach breaks. Winter break is an immediate cross-out since we don’t even have winter; and I already live and work in an urban area as it is. Beaches are my way to go if I want to escape life for a bit and completely unwind.

Do you spell out boyfriend properly or put bf in texts/online? I can use either depending on what I feel like typing out. It’s not that serious haha.

Do you know what bg is short for? Upon reading this question I immediately thought ‘background,’ but if this question had another meaning in mind I wouldn’t be aware of it.

Do you know anyone with the last name Bhays? No.

Have you ever been bird watching? What did you see? No, doesn’t sound like my kind of hobby.

Do you like Bjork? Not in particular, but just like the Axl Rose question I don’t have anything against her either.

What does this read: bk 2moz miss u lyk fk. Doesn't this text speak annoy? No one types like this anymore at least among people I know, but I imagine it would lowkey bother me a bit.

Do you like BMWs? They’re whatever. I don’t pay attention to cars much.

What is the nearest book to you called? How many times have you read it? There aren’t any books here up on the rooftop.

BnQ - gone there? What did you buy? Idk what that is.

Are you more brainy or brave? I wanna say brainy, if anything? I’m pretty jumpy lol.

Did you like the BSBs (Backstreet Boys) as a kid? How about now? No, I’m a little too young for that generation of artists and groups.

Burgers, Hot Dogs or Salads at a Barbecue? We don’t really practice ~barbecues~ here. But at Filipino parties I would usually flock to lumpia and fried chicken, hehe.

Do you have a Byro? No, because I also don’t know what that is.

Cold eyes and filthy lies all leave me petrified. - C

Do you have a Cactus (Cacti)? No, I don’t like plans.

Do you know what a CCTV is? Yes...?

How many CDs are in the room you are currently in? None where I am right now but I have all of Beyoncé’s albums save for Lemonade in my bedroom. I also have Paramore’s self-titled album and Hayley Williams’ Petals For Armor. My CD collection is about to experience a revival because of BTS, though. My plan to get all versions of all their albums is rock solid, lmao.

What's your favourite cereal brand? Cookie Crisps.

Do you like children's TV shows still? Which one(s)? I’ll revisit an episode or two of shows I watched as a kid at a given time for old times’ sake, but I don’t regularly watch children’s TV shows anymore. I haven’t for a very long time.

Cinnamon - Yum or Yuck? I’m actually kind of in the middle about it. I feel like too many desserts have been banking on cinnamon, so the taste of it can be a little tiring. It’s delicious if I haven’t had it for a while, though.

Do you know anyone with the initials and or name CJ? Quite the opposite; I know PLENTY of JCs, even my sister is one. I know one or two CJs but that’s it.

Have you ever met a self professed clairvoyant? What did they do/say? No.

Do you watch CNN News? What's your prefered news channel/show? I don’t tune into the channel but every once in a while I will encounter a CNN link on social media that I’d actually click on and read through. As for preferred news sources, I don’t have one as there are matters to criticize about 99% of them lol; but I am most likely to trust articles I from AP or Reuters. Just things you pick up as a journalism student.

How many cousins do you have? I have 9 first cousins. I lose count by the time I try to go beyond that since I don’t even know all of my dad’s cousins, which makes it hard to track who my second cousins are.

Do you still draw with crayons? When was the last time you did? Drew what? I don’t remember anymore.

Do you know what a CSS feed is? What is it? I’m familiar with the term but never bothered to learn about what it is.

Do you like cycling/biking? What type of bike do you have? ...I don’t even know how to ride a bike.

Do you really like it, is it is it wicked. - D

What is the most dangerous animal you've petted/held? I can’t decide between snake or crocodile.

Do you like Death Metal? If so, which band(s)? I wouldn’t say I do.

Did you ever keep a diary/journal? I did a million attempts to keep a diary when I was younger, but I was never able to keep up with any of them and I ended up having 4598358395 notebooks with one or two entries each at most. Having a Tumblr page for surveys has so far been my most successful streak at keeping some type of journal.

Do you prefer small, medium, large or no dogs? I prefer all dogs.

Do you know what DP stands for in porn? Yes.

Have you ever dressed up as a celebrity for a party/Halloween? I went as my favorite female wrestler once. I wouldn’t strictly call her a celebrity, but she’s a very well-known personality in the wrestling industry so she’s popular in that right.

DS or Wii? Why? Wii. I was able to make more memories with it.

Does dust make you sneeze or cough? Sneeze, usually.

How many DVDs do you have all together? Idk, I don’t buy DVDs anymore.

Do you dye your hair regularly, sometimes or never? I’ve never done it.

Every love lies sometimes . . . - E

What's something you refuse to eat? Most fruits.

Don't you think the word ebb is so pretty? I’m neutral about it. I don’t use it a lot.

Do you like Chocolate Eclairs? I love eclairs in general haha. Chocolate eclairs in particular sound delicious.

Ever tried edible paper? Yeah, with the White Rabbit candy.

Eevee - pretty name or too Pokemon-y? Definitely very Pokemon-y.

Do you sometimes mix up the spellings/meanings of affection and defection? Erm, no? They have completely different spellings and meanings, so I personally have never switched them up.

Do you have a big ego, low self esteem or somewhere in between? I think I’m somewhere in between. I’m insecure about some things about myself, but I don’t really put myself down 24/7. I feel like that would put such a strain on my mental health, which I certainly would never need.

What Element does your starsign fall under? I think earth? My co-workers were just discussing this last Friday, but I couldn’t really butt in since I can’t bring myself to care about astrology. I know they mentioned Taurus being an earth sign though.

Do you show your emotions easily and freely or hide them? Depends...I can do either depending on the situation.

What is your favourite form of entertainment? Korean reality shows are quickly becoming a favorite of mine at the moment. I also like compilation videos on YouTube.

What will they write on your epitaph? I’ve honestly hadn’t put much thought into this yet, and I don’t plan to anytime soon. It just seems like a super grave thing to think about lol.

Estimate/guess what number we are on now? Maybe 60s or 70s?

Do you know basic social etiquette? I mean etiquette will always differ per country or culture, so what is basic in other countries might not be here, and vice versa. I think it’s hard to measure.

Does your country use the Euro, Great British Pound, Dollar or other? Other.

Do you still get excited on Christmas Eve? Yes. Mostly for the free food and the opportunity to see relatives I really only ever see every December 24.

What animal/creature that is extinct do you wish wasn't? Those that went extinct from human activity.

What colour eyes do your parents have? Black/dark brown.

#survey #surveys

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gukptune · 6 years ago

Text

user: 95mochibuns → jimin

↠ Pairing: jimin x reader

↠ Genre: camboy!au, streamer!reader, smut

↠ Warnings: explicit language, cute but dangerous jimin, masturbation, teasing, edging, more of a clean smut

↠ Words: 3.3k

↠ Plot Summary: not much could be said about a camboy who gets himself into trouble with a streamer he admires.

↠ a/n: possibly a part 1 of 2. This has been sitting in my draft for a long time. Hope you enjoy it, it’s not GREAT but it’s cute. Second part will be much better!

Frustrated, infuriated and annoyed, all these words meant the same thing but they’re the only things that crossed your mind but of course you couldn’t show it not right now.

“Honestly, I knew this game was difficult and no, I will not wear the chicken hat. Never,” you announced, your voice coming right back at your from your mic to your headphones.

Keeping that quick witted and mischievous persona that all your viewers came to you for.

Comments rolled in with tips and tricks but of course most of them weren’t helpful, your eyes were automatically glancing over the sexual comments and what not, saying shit like your aspirated groans and whines at the game was hot.

Then a tip rolled in and that wasn’t normal by any means, your tips were of high price ― 20 for a tip was just ridiculous but it stopped a lot of stupid kids commenting. You had loads of subscribers and make a lot from this yet streaming and gaming wasn’t your job. You didn’t want to make it seem that way either because you were still in the end a student.

The tip popped up with your tip icon, blinking with the sender’s icon ― a bunny?

“All these kids commenting that you suck should fucking stop commenting anonymously like the fucking *shilantropussies* they are.”

You were looking at the sender as you chuckled, “Exactly, jbunnyjeon.”

Of course it was nice to point out people’s names when they tipped because funny enough most of the tippers live for that shit. You were streaming one of the less popular games mostly so you could play it because well you don’t stream for other people but for yourself.

Playing Metal Gear Solid could’ve been a mistake, since this game was a drag in time and effort. Yet, a whole lot of male viewers loved seeing girls play ‘manly’ games, whatever.

“Anyways, I still don’t get why we need this guy with us but I got him,” you commentate as your character, snake, hauled your capture onto the back of your horse.

Finally, you got past the stupid robot.

“Congrats :( that part took me *days* ― legit was about to kill myself.”

A comment by a fellow streamer, it popped up larger than most since you both were mutuals.

“Jeez, you fucking suck Tae,” You teased, imagining his reaction to everyone seeing how you played better than him. Since, he was a self proclaimed pro-gamer.

You leaned back in your chair, watching yourself on the screen to your left through the cutscene. Seeing all the comments which made you chuckle and respond to some through text. You weren’t one to talk through cutscenes at all.

As things seemingly were going smoothly a buzz through you phone made you groan, if someone was fricking texting you at 9 pm you were about to kill them because there were multiple and they were loud.

Out of frame of the viewers you flipped your phone over, it immediately unlocks and you scroll to see the notification.

95mochibuns is going live!

95mochibuns is going live in 10 minutes!

Your eyebrows furrowed as your eyes lock at the time. It was really 9 but fucking 9:50.

95mochibuns announcement!

Hey guys! A spontaneous live coming up, something special - feeling horny and fucking hard. Hope you can all join me tonight!

Entry is at 10 on the dot, only those who click in time can view. Testing out something new, maybe you guys will like it. I’ll be able to see your comments easier since it’s exclusive and limited.

Did I mention there’s only 35 slots, :) I love you all.

Oh fucking hell. Were you really going to drop your stream to watch his. Were you going to pretend to have a great reason to stop the stream now, lie to your audience to watch this camboy jack himself off.

Fuck yes.

Letting out a cough, you turned back to face the camera as your phone slips up into your hand, “Urgh, hey guys― I think I’m getting tired.”

"I’m so going to have nightmares about this game tonight, hope you all enjoyed,” you smiled softly, giving your audience the best worn out expression you could. Waving your hand at the camera, seeing comments of those saying ‘goodnight’, or saddened emojis and you know the typical ‘don’t go’ or some mean comments.

Winking at the camera before you shot hearts, “Thank you so much for tuning in on tonights stream! Metal Gear Solid Ep. 24! See you all, next time. Much love!”

Clicking off you let out a sigh, stretching out your back and feeling the cracks moaning at the release. Shit, you’ve been sitting in the same spot for hours, your back was killing you. Twisting and turning trying to pull out all the cracks and tightness you peered at the time on your desktop.

9:54 it was. You had 6 minutes to get on his page and wait, you knew it was going to be war and you were going to be refreshing like your life depended on it.

On the cam website and app, called ‘weheartcam’, it was one of the best in your opinion. The website only took amateurs and didn’t take companies or businesses streaming on their site, only independent streamers, how lovely.

Though Jimin, 95mochibuns, was one of the most popular boys apart of this camboy trio. Made up of himself and his two friends, though you only watched Jimin― something about him makes you just drool.

His fluffy blonde hair, muscular thighs, ripped body- fuck, he was just a korean boy who knew his ways around people of all countries. His english was amazing, he slips his native tongue every now and then, making him even hotter.

95mochibuns is going live in 5 minutes!

Holy―fricken―fuck. Was it anxiety, you were going to cry if you didn’t get to watch. You ended your stream for this boy, you felt like you were trying to get concert tickets or something.

You clicked on the bookmarked page you had favourited, that directed you right to his page.

On the videos page, you propped your leg up hugging a knee close to your chest to get comfortable.

Seeing his array of very explicit thumbnails, of which one of them was blurry― for tonight. Plastered over the image, ‘Coming Soon’. Oh yes, he was going to be coming in many ways.

Here you are, playing the waiting game. Being a well traverse streamer of course you internet connection was legit and you had faith in yourself... as much faith you could have when you know at least ten thousand people would want to be watching. He gets at least millions on each of his streams and well whenever there was a live he had more than a hundred thousand watching when it’s on. Though, there were the occasional people who joined instantly and that was the ten thousand super fans.

You wouldn’t say you were a super fan, you didn’t really have a fan page just a random one you used to comment and tip Jimin. You didn’t like all his posts on instagram... you always a bit busy. But well, you’ll have to try― at least.

9:58, nine―fucking―fifty eight. Hearts racing, in the spur of suspense. Your eyes were burning a whole into the clock as your finger on your mouse hovered over the video. Did this seem like you were being too much, no, fuck no.

Time blinks away as you finger immediately taps on the video when it game on. Being delighted by the cute face of Jimin himself, smiling at the camera as he watches the number of streamers go up. Each of the streamers were tagged with a number, you were number 26, fantastic.

Which always made you question how the hell did anyone have better connection that you, especially when you’re pretty sure you pressed right on the dot. Some sort of wizardry bullshit, or bots of course. Yet, these kinds of streams were only for members, of which you definitely were.

You laughed, thinking of the thumbnail he had. He must’ve posed for it in the same outfit before he started the stream.

“Hey guys!” Jimin flashed his ultra pure smile.

Fluffing up his hair as he seduces his viewers through the camera, “Slots are full, hmm, I’m glad you’re all here.”

They way he speaks is husky, breathy, his eyes were dim and blinking more often. He even moans, holy fuck. He was laid back on a couch, from what you could see. The lights were more dimmed now, neon lights peaking from his left shining on his face.

He must’ve had what you think was the television on, as it was flashing against his face. His camera was still, must’ve been on a tripod.

“Yea, I’ve been busy―argh, sorry for the lack of stream this week. I was actually going to go to sleep, it’s really late here,” he speaks casually, smiling at the camera as he reads through the messages― the non-spamming one. You weren’t commenting though, you were more distracted by what he was doing.

He was wearing a dark sweater, his right shoulder was flexing. Maybe it was your gamer instincts to notice everything, observe everything. He was not just sitting around.

You felt ridiculous, were you actually imaging. No one else was pointing out his erratic breathing, for flustered cheeks. Everyone was asking him what he was doing today, how his day was― innocent things.

Opting to do it yourself you began to type.

peachbubbles: you’re cute when you’re blushing ;’)

Which apparently catches his eye as the side of his lip curls into a smirk, he chuckles patting the back of his nape, “Hmm, you’re observant, huh?”

“Peachy,” he winks at the camera. You felt awfully exposed at that moment, it was clear he was directing that to you.

He made you squirm and blush from the mere look on his face and the way he speaks. This was more than a stupid crush, you’ve been watching him for years and hell, he’s changed since the beginning. He’s so much more confident with himself now.

Since he’s noticed you, but doesn’t really know who you are you commented again.

peachbubbles: why don’t you show us what’s going on downstairs? <3

He seemed to see your comment again, which was easy to spot as yours mentioned a completely different topic from everyone else’s occasional ‘i love you’.

He shook his head humorously, “Downstairs,” hissing through his teeth, “You’re too smart, unlike most of the fans here. You actually think― with your head.”

He grins, reaching forward to the camera, making your heart race from how close he was, it felt realistic from your huge screen. He zooms out.

Your breathing hitches when he pulled back and relaxes on the couch. Everyone’s reaction was well, pretty similar to yours.

He has his legs sprawled out wide, his sweatpants pushed down. His hand fisting his own cock, he bites his lip reading all the lewd comments. Pulling at his balls with his other hand.

“I’d give you a prize if I could, darling,” He teases, flashing his perfect smile again.

His eyes perked around reading the comments, he picked out one in particular to read out.

“Ah... You’re all wondering why I chose to do this random stream, uhm, honestly. This may come as a surprise but I don’t think it is,” He pauses, mumbling a few words, cocking his head back and forth, “I got hella turned on watching, uhm, one of my favourite gamers.”

“She’s pretty hot, she was aggravated by this game, ugh, it’s pretty fucking cute,” you had a sense of jealousy, he was jerking off to the thought of a hot gamer he’s watched, fuck, she was be hot as fuck.

“Anyways, sadly, she had to end her stream before I could jack off to her,” sad indeed, though of course you felt kind of relieved that you won’t be watching your ultimate crush jacking off to some gamer that could be your rival.

If anything, you had just came off your stream.. right? Hell no, Jimin wouldn’t possibly be referring to you, no.

His face was now redder than it was before, he must’ve read the comments spilling with assumptions that he was dating them, having a crush and etc.

“She’s a great gamer! You might know her, she just passed a huge robot level on this game...” as if time had stopped, you awaited what he had to say. Holy fuck, maybe he was talking about you.

“Metal gear solid? Is it? I don’t know much about games like that but it seems cool, I mainly watch those streams for her,” he explained, rubbing his face shyly, “I don’t even watch the gameplay, just her face.”

“Fuck, that sounds creepy doesn’t it? It doesn’t? Thank god,” he sighed, relieved that most of his fans commented how they’d be grateful as fuck if he’d jack off to them.

Jimin leans into the camera, as if he’s whispering and telling a secret, “Hmm, I nut to her nearly everyday.”

He chuckles, leaning back onto the bedframe. His eyes reading through the comments before he playfully huffed.

“Her name? You guys want me to expose her? Hell no!”

He chuckles with an amused tone, shaking his head, “Well, if anything maybe you guys will like her more than me.”

Damn. You don’t even know how to feel anymore, knowing that your ultimate crush is getting himself off with the imagery of you―you. You didn’t know if you should say something, hell no, if you did you’d get attacked by his raging fans.

God, look at him though. His eyes half shut, euphorically pulling at his balls and jerking himself off― you got so wet just staring at his face, not to mention the sight of his thickened cock in his hands.

Then rolls the comments.

parkhearts: you’re famous! slide in her dms, maybe you’ll get to slide in elsewhere too

babymochi: omg, get together! I ship.

bunbuns: She’s cute, omg, I watch her. Didn’t think she’d be his type, she’s so... cunning haha

iloveprkjm: She’d totes dom him honestly.

jiminsgirl: she’s not even that cute wth are y’all on

Jimin must’ve caught those comments because he sighs, stopping himself for a second as he responds, “She’s way too good for me. But hey, ‘bunbuns’. I’m pretty cunning too, that makes her and I compatible right?”

“And yea. She seems like a total bad girl, and yes, ‘iloveparkjm’ thank you, she could totally pull off a dom look and well I’d let her choke me any day.”

Your breath hitches. His tone was so serious, he wasn’t even laughing it off. He was just grinning like the cute ass he was, knowing well enough that whatever he said made everyone cream their pants.

And cue the thirsty comments.

itsjustpark: i’d let him choke me to death

berrychu: imagine sub jimin tied up though...

perkie: i’m so jealous

chimsgirl: here comes the thirsts and the jellys

More and more comments scrolled their way rapidly down the screen, Jimin’s facial expression was the same as yours―shocked but not surprised. He knew what he said and what would happen, god he loved the attention.

“You guys! Relax, it’s not like she knows I exist,” He laughed, before eyeing the camera and smirking, “I won’t cheat on you guys.”

Did you just cringe? Probably, god he said things that made all his girls die and squirm. You could probably feel the same as them but at the moment all you could think about was the fact that he just told the world he jerked off to you― indirectly but some fans caught on.

jiminsbitch: you guys could make a sex tape... that’d be pretty hot, ____’s hella hot.

heartsforhim: so it is ______

jiminsmine: _____? who’s this hoe

honeybuns: holy fuck imagine seeing him fuck someone.

perkie: i bet minnie knows the motions of the ocean ;)

You god damned imagined the same thing. Shit, you got off on him too. What’s to stop you from actually messaging him... his fans or your pride.

“Geez, guys please focus on me and not your imagination of me right now,” Jimin teased, still going at himself.

Pushing your ridiculous thoughts away you focused on the now.

peachbubbles: i’m sure she’d love for you to fuck her

Jimin’s eyebrow quirked at your comment. What, he saw it through the floods of other comments, that’s ridiculous.

“Welcome back from the dead peachy, thought you left,” He said, grinning to the camera as sweat begins to trial down his face.

You continued typing to him.

peachbubbles: are you close~

Jimin hummed, “Close enough.”

He read your comment again, it wasn’t just a coincidence then. You didn’t understand. Maybe you didn’t see other people commenting the same thing.

You began to type something else, maybe something he would do― at least that could solidify if he was actually focusing on your comment.

peachbubbles: i’d love to see you with a cockring

He didn’t respond. Maybe it was too forward or weird... maybe some guys didn’t like using toys. God, why’d you just ask him that, it’s kind of personal right. It’s definitely more daring, maybe he’s just weirded out or just didn’t see it.

He stares down at his cock, slick and wet. Pursing his lips and biting them as he nears his end.

“You know, I’ve never considered getting one,” He says, not looking back at the camera, “Also, aren’t cock rings more of a thing couples use.”

“Pleasures the girl as well as yourself,” Oh christ, why is he doing this to you.

He does enough by just looking into the camera as if it was a real person. His moans and whimpers, he was so shameless with sex and it was glorious. He tugs and rubs himself so well, quick yet stable. His forearms flexed all the way even though his hands were gently touching himself.

Then you could hear his quiet mumbling, “Maybe, ____, likes cockrings.” Chuckling to himself as he shakes his head.

Jimin smirks out of the blue, changing the pace, “Urh, I’m gonna cum. Fuck―uh.” He’s leaking. It’s hot, wet and sexy.

He always wore the most sultry expression, his one eye half shut and the other completely. Trying his best to look at the camera as if it was a person, whilst his head jerks back in pleasure at his release. His white thick cum creaming out of his cock, all over his hands and thighs, with a name lingering on his lips.

“_____, shit― I fucking h-hope she knows I exist. I’d fuck her―so hard,” his breathing was erratic, he groans through his words, “I’ll take your advice guys―”

He chuckled, “I’ll text her.”

He was going to... to text her― that her was you. Oh god, what are you suppose to do. Play it cool, no way, that’s just fake. Tell him that you’ve been watching him all this time and would love for him to fuck you so hard, no way, that’s just pathetic.

Jimin cocks the camera back up to his face, with a knowing grin― a knowing grin that all his fans fucked themselves to him.

“I’ll see you guys in the next stream, wish me luck,” He smiled boyishly, before pointing a finger at the camera, “And please, do not send her hate or I will hate you.”

“Goodnight!” He waves towards the camera as the stream ends.

You mindlessly waved back. He seemed very serious about texting you―too serious, maybe he’s just playing with your emotions, you as in the fans. He loved causing a storm, though he wouldn’t bring attention to someone so... mindlessly.

Leaning back in your chair, fuck, you didn’t even get off. Rolling your eyes before tapping exit on his page. Getting your ass back onto twitter and reading the comments from your fans as always. Pretending that whatever just happened, never happened.

And then as the world seemed calm and happy.

A buzz killed the air. You furrowed your eyebrows, looking over to your side at your silenced phone. A message? God, who is it.

There wasn’t much you thought about, probably your friends begging you to go out with them for a fun night.

Peering over at the lit up screen your breath comes to a stop at the name. Instead of being your friend wanting to party and hang out―

parkjimin: heyyy~

It was him. Right, maybe you’ll just die.

c. 2019

#park jimin scenario #park jimin smut #park jimin imagine #park jimin #jimin #bts smut #bts scenario #bts imagine

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theonewiththefanfics · 6 years ago

Text

Starved (one-shot)

Synopsys: The Reader is a touchy-feely kind of a person and when she joins the Avengers nothing changes. Apart from the fact that Bucky Barnes is so touch starved, he craves for the soft feel of her skin against his and is over the moon she treats him the same way she treats everybody else. Yet one day she simply stops, and he doesn’t know why.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: SMUT, angst, fluuuuf

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex (wrap it up you guys), nothing else, as I can remember, Bucky feelin a bit down.

Word count: 3209

“Everyone, this is Y/N. Y/N this is everyone.” Bucky’s eyes snapped up. Behind Steve stood a young woman, eyes shining brightly as she scanned the faces of the Avengers. He’d known that there would be an addition to the team and the man was terrified. It was hard enough for him to communicate with people who he somewhat knew, but now a complete stranger would enter his world and the super soldier would have to get to know them. “Tony, but you already knew that,” the billionaire extended a hand and the girl grasped it, a smirk making its way onto her features. “The guy whose money I’ll be spending. Noice.” One by one the members of the team introduced themselves, easily striking up a conversation with Y/N. Bucky was the last one to go. “I’m Bucky,” his rough palm clasped around her smaller one and for a second it was like electricity shot through them. “Shit, sorry!” her hands were over her mouth as Bucky’s metal arm went limp. Because electricity had shot through his body and fried the wires in the appendage. The Winter Soldier looked at it, trying to move it, but it wouldn’t budge. “What just happened?” “I- uhh- umm. I sorta control electricity and everything like that, ya know, lightning and stuff… I- it wasn’t my intention, to, umm, do that… yeah.” She was flustered, blood making its way up her neck and to her cheeks, embarrassment evident on her hot-feeling face. But Bucky couldn’t care less about the arm. He couldn’t take his gaze away from the girl. How she fidgeted with a ring that sat snugly on her left pointer finger, how the Y/H/C glowed in the setting evening sun, but most importantly- he was entranced and very surprised with how at ease he felt with her. “So, I guess high fives are out of the question,” he smiled shyly at the girl, trying to alleviate the mood and take her off the edge. And it worked. She cracked a smirk of her own and shook her head, shoulders dropping in relief. “I’m more of a hugs kind of a person anyways.”

Bucky’s smile doubled. He’d never felt this free in front of a stranger, so when Tony clasped his palm onto the man’s shoulder he visibly flinched being brought out of the warm bubble. “I think we need to look at that arm of yours, Manchurian Candidate.” But the super soldier didn’t want to. He didn’t care that now it was a useless piece of metal hanging off from his left side, making him lean down quite heavily. Y/N had touched him without a second to spare, she hadn’t cared about who he had been, what the man had done, but most importantly she seemed to actually like him and was happy to meet the guy. They had even joked. The only thing Bucky wanted to do was keep talking to her and get to know their newest addition. “Yo, Barnes and Noble!” Tony hollered down the hall. “You two gramps coming?” Steve let out an exasperated sigh before smiling down at Y/N. “You gonna be okay?” As an answer, the woman gave him two thumbs up before being whisked away by a very excited Peter Parker, who was totally enamoured by her powers and wanted to know more. An hour later Bucky came back in the common room with a bashful smile on his face, eyes instantly scanning the area to find his new source of light. It was like two magnets pulled to one another as Y/N immediately turned her head to face the man, grinning widely while standing up. “Sorry again. About the arm,” she gestured the appendage and put both hands in her back pockets, rocking on the heels of her feet like a teenager who was talking to their crush. In an instant, Bucky’s heart melted at how genuine she was. “It’s fine,” he waved her off. “Was due for an upgrade anyway.” It was Steve’s slap on his best friend’s shoulders that took them out of the sweet moment. “Jesus, punk! You’ll give an old man heart attack.” The snort Y/N let out was the most adorable sound Bucky had ever heard and he swore if life continued to be so nice to him, he would think he was dead and in heaven. “Don’t try and pull the senior card on me. We’re practically the same age,” Steve shot Y/N a wink and the girl rolled her eyes. “Any particular reason you disturbed a lovely conversation I was having?” a well-groomed eyebrow rose up as she crossed her arms. “Actually, two things- every Friday there is a mandatory movie night- no excuses. And two- in two months you’ll have your first mission.” “Yay to the first one and tell me more to the second one,” Y/N jutted out an elbow for Cap and humouring her, he linked his through as they both skipped together to sit down in front of the TV.

*** Bucky was over the moon of having found someone who couldn’t care less about his past. Someone who knew what had happened to him, what he had done, yet nevertheless did not judge. There were no harsh words thrown his way from Y/N, she didn’t flinch whenever the super soldier somehow bumped against her with the metal arm, nor did she recoil when it wove around her midsection to pull her body more comfortably against his during the Friday hangouts. And so more and more he got comfortable with the girl, more and more he started to trust the woman. That was great especially when they got sent on the mission together. It was her first and one of Bucky’s numerous, but still, every time he went out on a battlefield, it felt like a brand new start. The gunshots were suddenly too loud as were the screams and yells, but he had to tune them out, had to do his duty. Yet with Y/N on the field, it seemed to be a lot easier than normal. He knew he had her back and she had his, no matter what. But then a particular episode had rushed to his mind; Bucky felt his body freeze at the thought of agony, at the thought of going back to HYDRA of being captured he almost passed out. The mission was brutal and horrific, and they came onto the jet completely exhausted, the ex-soldier even more so than usual. But Y/N came to the rescue. She instantly sat down in his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered sweet nothings into his ears, Bucky’s own arms clutching onto the girl like she was the last lifeline he had. That is how Steve first saw them, curled into one another when the plane landed back in the tower. The silver-armed man whispered a small ‘hi’ and rushed off to his own quarters to wash off the dread and grime from himself. Y/N was just about to do the same before the Captain pulled at her wrist, willing her to stop. “You should be a bit more careful around him.” Her eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?” “He’s been through a lot and Bucky… he puts on a brave face, but his mind isn’t still fully healed. He’s been doing great in therapy, but touch is a different thing. I know, you’re an affectionate person, I get it, but maybe could you tone it down a bit with him? It brings back bad memories of his, sometimes when he goes to sleep if people aren’t careful around him, he gets night terrors. So, uh, yeah….” Y/N stood there, eyes wide with concern, but most of all embarrassment that she had been so misinformed. “I- I didn’t know, I’m sorry, Steve. I’ll, yeah, I’ll just keep my hands away.” He gave her a grateful smile and nodded. “He really likes you though. I haven’t seen him smile so much. But sometimes he needs to take things slow. Lord knows that jerk doesn’t realise what is good for him.” With a small smile, Y/N nodded and took in the Captain’s advice. Slowly her morning hugs with Bucky ceased to exist, instead, she just gave him a wave and put his breakfast in front of the man. Then she stopped cuddling up to the ex-assassin during their movie nights rather she sat down onto the ground between Peter, MJ and Ned who had become a core part of the Avenger’s friend group. And any time Y/N pulled away from the man, thinking she was helping him get better, Bucky grew worse and worse. His nightmares came back full swing, body covered a layer in cold sweat that made his skin stick uncomfortably to the sheets. Dark circles appeared under his eyes and they only became deeper as days passed without a single touch from Y/N. Bucky was desperate to know what he did wrong. He blamed himself; vicious thoughts told him he had scared her away, been too pushy, she had grown to hate him for what he’d done as the Winter Soldier, so as he did before- the Avenger retreated into himself. His smiles were fake at best and any time Y/N came into the room, he yearned to be closer, to have her fingers play with his, to melt in the feel of her combing through his hair or fall asleep listening to the steady beats of her heart. What was worse, another type of desire had started to plague Bucky- he had fallen in love with the Y/E/C eyed beauty wishing to be with her in every sense of the way whilst a sea of confusion and hurt stretched between them. It was a bad night for the man. His mind played horrible tricks on him, making Bucky relive the pain once more as he sat in the HYDRA chair, metal clasping around his head as wave after wave of pure torment rippled through his skin and nerves, taking away his identity and morphing him into the organization’s beloved puppet. Then suddenly a soft touch appeared on his left shoulder. He turned to look at who was there but saw nothing. And then- a sweet, sweet voice. The sound of an angel beckoning towards the light. So, he followed. With a gasp, Bucky woke up, sweat dripping down his body and dampening the already wet sheets. It was a struggle to open his eyes, but when he did, the man saw Y/N sitting by his side, a warm palm settled on his shoulder and worry written all across those beautiful features. “You’re alright,” the girl cooed, bringing Bucky’s breathing back to normal. “You’re safe. In the tower. With me.” He could only nod along, lungs still struggling to work, but he just focused on her, how she felt, how her chest rose and fell, how alive and real she was and that the bad things had only been a nightmare. “Thank you,” Bucky choked out. Y/N’s palm went to cradle his cheek and he leaned into the sensation. “Any time.” They stayed like that for a moment before her Y/E/C eyes went wide and she jumped up, recoiled from the man as if he was a poisonous snake. “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I, fuck, I forgot.” Bucky just sat there, blue orbs trained on Y/N who had so carelessly touched him. So softly, so tenderly it set his skin ablaze. But not with the fire of pain, but something deeper. She had once again opened up a void in him that needed desperate filling. And Bucky knew only she could do it. “Don’t,” he grasped Y/N’s wrist as she tried to move away. “Please, don’t leave.” “I’m sorry, Buck, I real-“ “Why are you so afraid to touch me?” he whispered out. “What?” “Please,” his tone was pleading, desperate. “When we first met you didn’t care about my metal arm, nor the real one. What happened? Did- did I do something?” Y/N sighed, sitting down with a very visible wince of her face. Gently she laid his vibranium hand in her lap and intertwined their fingers. “After that mission, Steve and I talked. He told me that you don’t like it when people touch you without permission. That bad memories can resurface. I didn’t want to be the reason you get pushed back in your recovery because I’m a touchy-feely kind of a person.” Bucky threw his head back in frustration and held on tighter to Y/N’s palm. “You’re not setting me back. Not- not one bit. I’ve,” he huffed a breath before gathering the swirling thoughts and laying out everything that was on his heart. “I’ve never felt so safe around anyone as I do with you. And yes, that includes me remembering how you completely destroyed my arm with one touch of your palm, but… you make me feel validated, you make me feel like I have a reason to stay… a reason to keep on living. That maybe someday strangers won’t run to the other side of the street just because I’m walking there. That maybe I do deserve a second chance… redemption… maybe I do deserve to be loved...” His gaze was piercing as Y/N listened to every word that slipped past his mouth with bated breath. She was so overwhelmed by Bucky’s sincerity that she acted on impulse and leaned in to kiss him. It lasted only a second before the girl drew back, afraid to have overstepped a boundary, but the other Avenger wasn’t as inclined to let it end so easily. A cold palm settled on the nape of her neck and drew Y/N’s lips down back to his. He felt her fingers weave through his long hair and tug in places, eliciting a deep, guttural moan which she eagerly swallowed. “Where do you want me to touch?” her voice was soft, but it shook Bucky to his core like an earthquake as she spoke. “What?” Gently straddling his lap, Y/N leaned to brush her lips against his ears. “Where do you want me to touch you?” And all he could do was moan a desperate ‘everywhere’ before crashing his lips against hers in a passion filled kiss. Neither noticed when or how they lost their clothes, but it was her tender naked skin gliding across his when Bucky snapped out of the hypnotic trance. Her warm hand had grasped softly around his member and she laid little kisses to his hipbones. “Tell me what you want, Buck,” she whispered kissing up his shaft, feeling him twitch in her hand, but only a strangled moan came from his lips. “I need words, honey.” “Mouth,” he managed to get out while physically restraining himself from just thrusting his hips and making Y/N take him all in. “Please.” His breathing became more and more ragged with every second their eyes kept locked on one another. That was until it seemed like she had enough with the teasing and the girl leaned down swiping her tongue up the underside of his cock in a broad stroke. Bucky groaned, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his arms gave out and he flopped to the bed on his back. Every sensation was amplified to the tenths. It was like his nerves had gone haywire the same way his arm had, only this time with pleasure. His hips instinctively went up, pleading for Y/N to take more of him, to do more, to bring his release closer as it built up, clouding his mind and wiping out any coherent thought. “So close,” Bucky whimpered out ready to completely submit to the pleasure when Y/N drew back. The man jumped up in a sitting posting only to be met by the woman crawling onto his lap once more. “I want you now,” there was an animalistic note in her voice that Bucky simply couldn’t not obey. She was already so wet that simply sliding up and down his shaft covered him completely in her slick. Y/N dropped her head to the crook of his neck, sighing out before the breath got stuck in her throat when Bucky, gave a little snap of his hips and entered her completely. Once more the cerulean eyes rolled back, and he had to hold off from exploding. The girl’s mouth had already done wonders to him, brought him to the edge of heaven, but the feeling of being completely surrounded by Y/N in every sense of the word was a fantasy come true. “Move, Bucky. Please, move,” the super soldier felt her hot breath against his shoulder and so he did. A low moan reverberated through her chest and into his body. It was perfect, so perfect. They moved in sync and as much as he wanted to simply slam into the girl, to throw them in oblivion, Bucky took his time sliding in and out of her as she did with the kisses her lips scattered all across his body before moving back to his lips. He couldn’t get enough of her nor did he think he would ever be able to reach that satisfaction. “Bucky!” The way his name slipped from Y/N’s mouth, jaw hanging open spurred on his actions even more. Both his hands had settled on the woman’s hips, but now they slid to her back, grabbing two handfuls of her butt and rolling her more into him, making her clit rub against his pelvic bone. Bucky could feel her muscles start to contract, the inevitable rush of pleasure that would ripple through her was approaching and at that point, he completely forgot it had started out with her taking care of him. Now it was only Y/N and how he needed for her to break, wanted to see her shatter as he gave himself away to her. And she did. With a desperate whine, her orgasm finally crashed down onto the girl and pulled Bucky with it. He could faintly note Y/N's nails digging sharply into his taut back muscles, but all he saw was galaxies and starts and all he felt was love and safety. Y/N trembled in Bucky’s grasp, his arms pulling her much smaller body close to his, head hidden in the crook of his neck. He left exhausted kisses all from her collarbone to the shell of her ear and down to the top of her breast. The man was just about to pass out, the Avenger’s smaller frame safely by his side when she spoke. “If this is where me touching you leads… you can bet I’ll be attached to you like a leech.” A genuine laugh that stemmed deep from within, rumbling like thunder across the sky encased Y/N in its warm embrace. “If you hadn’t listened to Steve and his stupid advice this could’ve happened a lot sooner.” “Hey!” Y/N gently slapped his bicep. “I thought I was doing more harm than good. And he is your best friend, been through thick and thin with you. Why would I not trust him?” “He means well… but he’s wrong about what I need.” Y/E/C eyes finally met his once more. “And what is that.” “You.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take): @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @pizzarollpatrol @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx@nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn @projectxhappiness @callmebucky-doll @coal000 @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken @sophiealiice @raquelbc2003 @watch-out-for-thorns @potentially-kinetic @thatonegirljessy99 @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611 @horrorx570ximagines @the-nargles-made-me-do-it @pooslie @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass

A/N: I’ve been gone for a while and I don’t know when the uploading schedule will get consistent but thank you for bearing with me as it is. Uni is a lot and the assignments are coming like crazy, so I hope you can stick it out with me :)

Also, I saw Hamilton and it was fucking amazing!!!!!!!

P.S. tell me what you think :)

P.S.S. if you wanna be tagged in future works or have any requests, please drop a message :)

P.S.S.S. please don’t repost without credit :)

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idonthaveanaccent · 5 years ago

Text

Just a little rambling and then a few bands I really like and you should totally check out, so expand it if you wanna see them :)

I know this isn’t a normal update, I just have to talk about this with someone.

Music is a vital part of everyday life for me. Everything I do has a backtrack. If I’m not watching a show in my room, I have to have music playing. When I write I have headphones in, blasting music, like right now. To go to sleep and sleep easily I have to play music, ever since I was young I’ve done it. I can’t remember not falling asleep without music playing. Music even helps inspire what I write.

Point is, I love music.

However, I am extremely uncomfortable with sharing my music. My freshman year I was made fun of the type of music I listen to, which has evolved a bit in the 3-4 years since that time, however it hasn’t ventured too far.

When I was eleven my parents gave me a windows phone with no sim card, but it had a music app. They downloaded a bunch of child friendly songs and it was the first time I could control what I listened to. Before I had an old MP3 which was filled with Disney songs, Anamaniacs tunes, and ABBA’s Golden Hits. I can sing all them by heart, dances are a fun time for me. Now, I could look up songs.

My best friend was into the alternative scene as her sister is six years older than us and as such had a more ‘adult’ music sense. She introduced me to the classic bands, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! At the Disco, etc. I loved their music, we’d listen to it on the bus to middle school. However, as time went on, I began expanding my music taste. I got into My Three Days Grace, Shinedown, and other similar bands. Then, Freshman year came.

I remember the moment clear as day. I was working on my photography notebook the week before finals like the dumbass I was am, with Pandora open and listening to one of the many radios. Then, a song came on. It was by a band I hadn’t heard of before. It was called Bad Company, and the band was called Five Finger Death Punch. Now, little fourteen year old me was a little shocked by the name but the song wasn’t unlike anything I’d heard before. I decided I liked that song and favorited it.

A little while later more of their songs began popping up, but they were a little different. Heavier. Angrier. And I loved it. I don’t know what it was about the gruff vocals or pounding drum beats or glorious guitar solos, but I was hooked. I then moved onto Spotify and listened to their albums, headbanging all the way. This was my first experience with Metal, and you better believe I was a fan.

As time went on I explored more bands. Alesana, Asking Alexandria, Crown the Empire, A Day to Remember, Halestorm, Ghost, etc. I tried showing people my favorite bands but they made fun of my music taste, mimicking their screams whenever I looked up. It was disheartening, and I never wanted to share it again. Not until I knew they were okay with it. I had people tell me they were scared of that music, and asked me to never play it in front of them. You can see how that would make me never want to tell anyone about it, right? Well, I kept it to myself, electing to share music with only a few people, one being my friend. She always jokes about how she showed me Fall Out Boy and all them and then lost me along the way.

During Junior year I discovered even more bands, including one of my favorites, Ice Nine Kills. Amazing band, you should definitely check them out, but the advertising comes later. My music taste also diversified a little and I began listening to softer bands, like grandson and The Ghost Club.

Now, to the main show. My recent music taste.

It all began with one Instagram video. A meme video that really isn’t all that funny. I was actually just looking through what I saved and it happened to be in a really small folder, so I clicked it. Here is the exact video

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by positive memes (@positive_and_negative_memes) on Feb 23, 2019 at 6:14pm PST

So I was interested the song and band and decided to look them up. What I found was simply...amazing.

Okay, here comes the advertising of my favorite bands :)

I. Gloryhammer

The first Power Metal band I discovered and still my favorite. Here’s how Gloryhammer describes themselves:

“And lo, Planet Earth had been destroyed by the Hootsman, with an explosion so powerful it ripped a hole in the very fabric of spacetime. And yet, Zargothrax was still not defeated, for he managed to use his last shreds of power to escape through the dimensional rift. Vowing to defeat the evil sorcerer, Angus McFife XIII followed him into the portal, with no idea where it might lead…“

That may seem confusing, and it is, but trust me, when I tell you a bit more, it will all make sense.

So Gloryhammer is one of the best bands I have ever heard before. Their concept is absolute gold and is the only of its kind I’ve seen before. Basically, every single one of their songs tells a story of the Land of Fife. The Lead singer (Thomas Winkler) is Prince Angus McFife (the 1st and 13th), keyboard/backing vocals (Christopher Bowes) is the Evil Sorcerer Zargothrax, guitar/backing vocals (Paul Templing) is Sir Proletiues, leader of the warriors of Crail, drums (Ben Turk) is the Ancient Hermit Ralathor, and last but never least is bass/backing vocals (James Cartwright), the Mighty Hootsman!

Each album follows a part in the epic saga, with three in total. The first album tells the story of the original Angus McFife the I whereas the next two follow his ancestor, Anguc McFife XIII. I don't want to give too much spoilers but let's just say that all three are filled with so much creativity and twists that it’s like listening to a movie! I cant even express how if you are looking for something to listen to that has dragons, goblin kings, evil sorcerers, hammers, and space, then this is the band for you!

I am going to put one song by them down because you can only have five and I’m big mad about it.

Gloryhammer - Legends from Beyond the Galactic Terrorvortex

youtube

So yeah, that’s band numero uno!

II. Sabaton

What is there to say about Sabaton that hasn’t already been said...

Unlike Gloryhammer, Sabaton is older, formed in the nineties. Here’s what they say about themselves on their website:

“In the nearly two decades since their launch, Swedish metallers Sabaton have carved out a reputation as one of the hardest working bands in the business – gaining a legion of loyal fans across the globe, delivering eight highly-rated studio albums (including two certified platinum-sellers), and scoring multiple industry award wins and nominations… not to mention launching their own annual festival and cruise.

Combining soaring power riffs with vocalist Joakim Brodén’s instantly-recognisable gruff baritone, the band refuses to be simply slotted into a genre. Fans need only know them as Sabaton: the heavy metal band that sings of real life wars and the people who played a part in them – of gruelling campaigns and dazzling acts of bravery, of magnificent victories and touching personal struggles – true stories more fantastic than any fiction,”

Sabaton is, as they stated, a band dedicated to sharing stories of true battles throughout history. On their website they even have a whole calendar dedicated to historic events, so you can see what happened in history on whatever day you’d like!

As a huge history geek, this band is amazing. I would watch the World War documentary series before I went to bed in middle school because I thought all of that stuff was so interesting. If I didn’t love writing and English as much as I do then I’d go into a career where history was involved. They were actually a part of my Spotify Wrapped this year where I explored 27 of their songs, listened to six of their albums, and spent over 39 hours listening to just them this year.

Unlike what I did before, I am just going to showcase three of my favorite songs by them because they have way too many albums and I’m sad to say I didn’t listen to all of them.

The Lost Battalion - The Last Stand

youtube

Now, onto the third band and a good one too!

III. Powerwolf

I’m not a religious person, I grew up being taught all that stuff but I consider myself to be more agnostic rather than Christian or any of that stuff. But, if there’s one religious thing I don’t mind bumping its the Priests of Metal, Powerwolf! Here's what they have to say about themselves:

“After spilling gallons of blood and fighting tirelessly, after only two albums with Napalm Powerwolf shot straight to the pole position of the official German album charts (and another album made it into the top three!). After selling out venue after venue and thrilling bigger and bigger hordes of fans, the time is right for a new chapter: The Sacrament Of Sin which offers eleven metal psalms forged for all eternity!

Powerwolf entered Fascination Street Studios in Örebrö, Sweden starting in January 2018 to work on their seventh manifesto together with renowned producer Jens Bogren (Opeth, Arch Enemy, Amon Amarth). The result is brimming with the Germans` trademark sound, and yet the band have recorded their boldest and most adventurous album to date! ‘Where the wild wolves have gone‘ even marks the first ballad in Powerwolf history – whereas ‘Nightside of Siberia‘ does the exact opposite and turns out to be one of the heaviest tunes the fivepiece have ever written. ‘Incense And Iron‘ simply MUST be part of every future setlist with its folky nature and anthemic catchiness; and epic single ‘Fire & Forgive‘ brilliantly melts infectious melodies into timeless, heavy shredding. The Sacrament Of Sin overwhelms both with sophisticated songwriting and sheer aggression – and proves once more why Powerwolf are the one and only true high priests of heavy metal!,”

The band is made up of vocalist Karsten Brill as "Attila Dorn", lead guitarist Benjamin Buss as "Matthew Greywolf", bassist/rhythm guitarist David Vogt as "Charles Greywolf", keyboardist Christian Jost as "Falk Maria Schlegel" and drummer Roel van Helden.

They’re really awesome and here’s my favorite song by them.

Army of the Night - Blessed and Possessed

youtube

Now onto the fourth band ;)...

IV. Brothers of Metal

Oh boy, if you thought the bands might’ve mellowed out a little then you are sorely unprepared for this glorious group...

When I was younger I was one of those Percy Jackson kids, but my love for mythology started long before I read one of those books. As I grew older I expanded my knowledge, moving away from Greek and Roman and into Norse and other mythologies. You can imagine my joy when I found Brothers of Metal. They have no Wikipedia or website so here’s what Spotify says about them:

“BROTHERS OF METAL consist of eight powerful Viking warriors that originates from the glorious kingdom of Falun, far up in the north. Falun is a mighty town that lies within the dark iron woods where only true metal warriors reside. BROTHERS OF METAL are known to most as the strongest metal band in the nine realms.

Before time, our eight warriors would travel through the realms and protect the good folk against evil. It was one of those nights that the legacy of metal was born. They came home from some pretty intense giant slaying and felt the common urge for mead and entertainment. The mead was generously flowing from the teats of Heidrun, but the music was really bad. The warriors took what instruments they could find and started playing, thus they wrote their first song Son of Odin, creating a tribute hymn to the strongest god they knew.

The mortals of the kingdom was so impressed with the music that they couldn't get enough, our warriors looked at each other and so a band was formed. Together they swor an oath to keep the flames of true metal burning and to continue to play until the earthlings had worthy entertainment of their own, it's yet to come,”

They haven’t released a ton of music when compared to the bands I listed before them, but they are absolutely amazing! All their music videos make me chuckle and when I watch Q&A’s they’ve posted they feel so down to earth that a person whos probably a decade younger than them if not less/more can relate to them. All their music has to do with Norse Mythology, but here’s my favorite music video yet:

The Mead Song - Prophecy of Ragnarök

youtube

And yeah, that’s it!

I hope you all weren't too bored and I hope you at least somewhat enjoyed this. It feels good to talk about my favorite bands. I’d love to put more videos in but Tumblr won’t let you so I guess we’re stuck with only one per band. I planned on doing three each but I guess that’s dead in the water.

Oh well.

If you like any of this music/band honestly just reach out and talk to me, I love chatting about music. I don’t know a ton about the logistics or anything like that but we can share bands or songs or whatever. I sound really lonely which is true but please don’t feel shy.

See you all later!

-Paige

#music #metal #power metal #gloryhammer #sabaton #powerwolf #brothers of metal #the last battalion sabaton #army of the night powerwolf #gloryhammer gloryhammer #the mead song brothers of metal #rambling

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gildedcrown · 5 years ago

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Repost it, do not reblog.

CHARACTER: Raihan Anand-Knightley

tagged by : @pcstwick

tagging : steal it from meeeee

— basics.

▸ is your muse tall / short / average ? Raihan stands at a whopping 6’8”, which is quite a bit above average. He definitely appreciates the high standing doorways that litter Hamerlocke Castle. You can bet that he hits his head more than a few times in normal hanging doorways. It’s honestly why he wears the headband, it helps soften the blow.

▸ are they okay with their height ? At first, Raihan actually really hated it. He got made fun of for being the short kid in elementary school and then hit a huge growth spurt when entering high school. To which he got made fun of again for being so tall. It probably wasn’t until his last year of high school that he was finally comfortable with his height. Which, coincidentally, lines up with when he got the position as the next gym leader to Hammerlocke.

▸ what’s their hair like ? So! Raihan’s hair style is a dreadlock ponytail with a faded side shave most of the time. As an Afro-Asian, he does have textured hair when he doesn’t have the dreadlocks and his hair texture is a 3C hair type! He’s probably had the dreadlocks for about two or three years now. Currently, Raihan is growing it out so that he can cut the dreads off to go back to his natural hair. When he first started his gym leader position, Raihan used to just wear his natural hair in a ponytail with a headband.

▸ do they spend a lot of time on their hair / grooming ? Yeah, I would say so! Raihan doesn’t have to do much in terms of his hair, but he does have a routine he follows. He has to be in public a lot of the time and it’s expected of a gym leader to look a certain way. I would say he’s pretty average in terms of time, though it just kind of depends on the day.

▸ does your muse care about their appearance / what others think ? Oh absolutely. Raihan is very conscious of his appearance and what others think of him. While he’s not self-conscious about the way he looks, he is hyper aware that he has to look presentable to the public and look good while doing it.

— preferences.

▸ indoors or outdoors ? Outdoors, he loves spending time out in Hammerlocke Hills just strolling or laying around in the grass. Not to mention all times he takes Flygon out for a spin, he loves being outdoors. ▸ rain or sunshine ? Sunshine! He enjoys feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin. ▸ forest or beach ? Both, he enjoys any good old time exploring the forest, but he will never turn down a day at the beach. ▸ precious metals or gems ? So I’m probably going to say precious metals here. I think Raihan likes a lot of gemstones and thinks all of them are very pleasing to the eye, but there’s just something very esthetically pleasing about the precious metals that he likes. Especially as earrings. ▸ flowers or perfumes ? Flowers! He’s not a big fan of perfumes. ▸ personality or appearance ? Personality. He’s not one to really judge on appearances, though it is something he’s conscious about for himself. ▸ being alone or being in a crowd ? Both in moderation. ▸ order or anarchy ? Order. ▸ painful truths or white lies ? Painful truths! ▸ science or magic ? Science for sure. ▸ peace or conflict ? A little bit of both. He doesn’t think one can exist without the other. ▸ night or day ? Night for sure! He enjoys looking at the stars at night. ▸ dusk or dawn ? Dusk! He enjoys watching the colors of the sunset fade into the night from the parapets of Hammerlocke Castle. ▸ warmth or cold ? Warmth. He can get pretty grumpy when he’s too cold. Raihan does not enjoy the winters in Galar to say the least. ▸ many acquaintances or a few close friends ? A few close friends. ▸ reading or playing a game ? Raihan prefers to listen to audio books, so playing a game!

— questionnaire.

▸ what are some of your muse’s bad habits ? I think his worst one is being self-deprecating. He doesn’t give himself nearly enough credit as he should. Putting himself down for the sake of others or just in a joking manner. Raihan has always had self esteem problems ever since he was a kid, and that has definitely followed into adulthood to say the least.

▸ has your muse lost anyone close to them ? how has it affected them ? Raihan hasn’t really had any significant losses like that in his life. His grandparents are all extremely healthy and take good care of themselves. He hasn’t lost any Pokemon either, so there isn’t anything he could really amount that kind of loss to.

▸ what are some fond memories your muse has ? Probably the ones surrounding his family. Following his grandfather around the Vault like a little shadow, his grandmother teaching him how to bake. His mum, Alex, showing him how to Pokemon battle for the first time. Watching his Trapinch hatch from his egg. Any time that was spent with his sisters and going out and doing stuff with them. His other mum, Varshika, teaching him how to speak in other languages. His family is very important to him, they helped him through a lot of rough patches in his life and he couldn’t be more thankful for them.

▸ is it easy for your muse to kill ? No. He doesn’t think he should be someone’s judge and executioner. Even if he thinks that someone is the scum of the earth, he can’t make the conscious decision to decide someone’s fate like that.

▸ what’s it like when your muse breaks down ? It’s. Pretty bad. Raihan has a really good poker face, so it’s really hard to tell if he’s having a bad day or genuinely about to break down. Unless you’re someone who’s really close to him and knows all of his tells. He becomes distant, gives only one word answers or is very curt in his responses. When he finally breaks down, it’s usually in the form of just sitting in the dark somewhere curled up in a ball hugging a pillow for some kind of comfort.

▸ is your muse capable of trusting someone with their life ? Raihan doesn’t trust people very easily. And if he does, it’s someone who he is very close to. I think the four people he would trust with his life are his apprentices and Leon.

▸ what’s your muse like when they’re in love ? Raihan is very indulgent when he’s in love. Not only that, but he’s extremely affectionate to his partner, whether it be a simple kiss or cuddling. He’s also very likely to dote on his partner, giving them little gifts and spoiling them whenever he’s able to (see: Leon). There’s not much that will stop him from giving his partner anything they ask, it’s basically his kryptonite. Raihan is also very in tune with his partner? He’ll be able to tell easily if they’re feeling off, or if they had a bad day.

#♔ headcanons . ( raihan )#this was fun to do!#i'm probably gonna save this and do it for another one of my characters :thinking:#♔ queen of queues . ( queue )

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hot-tae-with-suga · 6 years ago

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This Looks Bad || 1

Summary: Taehyung and I were just horsing around, but someone took a picture, and now everyone thinks I’m cheating on my boyfriend Namjoon with one of his best friends. Which I’m not, because I don’t (let myself) think of Tae that way. And neither does Namjoon. Right?

Reader (1st person unnamed femme OC)/Namjoon/Taehyung

Idol AU

36.2K total || Rated M || Part 2 | Part 3 (final) | AO3 || Masterlist

Genre: fluff / smut / angst with happy ending || Warnings: Misunderstandings, Failure to Communicate, Bisexual characters, Threesome (in later parts), Smut (in later parts)

Originally Posted 2019-03-25

Thank you so so so much to my editor S, and my wonderful betas from the JAG discord (L, V, and D)

DOI (Day of Incident)

Balancing my laptop on the arm of a couch with my legs curled up under myself to avoid accidentally flashing someone (because my very sparkly cocktail dress was very short) was not exactly how I’d imagined I’d be writing my thesis for my doctorate. Nevertheless, my boyfriend Namjoon had asked me to accompany him to this event with some music types from Japan, and I was nothing if not a dutiful partner.

I’d been proper arm candy for the first hour, but my Japanese skills barely stretched past nodding and smiling when Namjoon did. He saw that it was starting to wear on me, so he reminded me that my laptop was still in the overnight bag he’d packed if I wanted to go get some work done. I’d kissed him on the cheek and quietly made my escape. The stylists and coordi-noonas had wandered off to the loading dock for a smoke break, or were busy in other parts of the building, so I had the place to myself for at least half an hour before I even heard anyone else.

Voices carried down the hall, but I tuned them out until someone opened the door and strode through. I looked up to see who it was, smiling when I saw Taehyung, Namjoon’s group member I was closest to. He was followed by a pretty young woman who he was speaking to about some style of art, from the few words I caught before he greeted me.

“Hey Charlotte Bronte,” he joked. “Are you hiding from the guests of honour, too?” The woman looked confused, which was rather unsurprising given Taehyung’s habit of calling me by author’s names whenever he caught me writing. Which, at the current stage in my thesis project, was pretty much all the time.

I nodded and stood, quickly bowing to the woman he hadn’t yet introduced. “Yeah, I could only understand about two out of every ten words, so Joon sent me down here.” I quickly saved the work I’d been in the middle of and closed my computer. “If you need the room or anything, I can take off, though.” Maybe not the most subtle approach, but I’d never want to be accused of cockblocking one of my best friends. If Tae was desperate enough to drag this woman to the green room in the middle of an event, I wasn’t going to get in the way of him getting some. It was hard enough to date as an idol, so they tended to take every opportunity they could if they found someone they liked.

Taehyung shook his head. “No, I’m just getting changed a bit early because it will be way too crowded once everyone is back here,” he said, moving to grab his carefully labeled stage wear from the rack in the middle of the room. “Plus, everyone out there was boring, except Park Jiyoo,” he nodded toward his companion. “We were discussing art and photography. She is a curator at a gallery in Ilsan.”

I bowed again in her direction. “Hello Park Jiyoo, I’m-”

She cut me off. “I know who you are,” she said softly. “You’re Kim Namjoon’s girlfriend.”

I chuckled and nodded. “Among other things. I’m hiding out back here to work on my thesis project, feels like it’s all I do these days.”

“Joon-hyung got a smart girl,” Tae commented from behind the folding privacy screen at the back of the room. The hanger clinked against the metal frame as he hooked it over the edge. “Cause he’s a smart boy. They’re a matched set.”

“So are you looking for your match then, Taehyungie?” I teased. Even if he wasn’t bringing Jiyoo back here to hook up right this moment, I’d be a poor friend if I didn’t at least try to play wingman. “So we need to find you a goofball with little-to-no sense of personal space?” Jiyoo giggled at that.

Taehyung stuck his head around the side of the screen, obviously unbuttoning his while dress shirt. “Don’t listen to Ms. Smart Ass, she is cruel and knows nothing.” He ducked back behind the screen again, and I could hear the sound of his belt slithering out of the loops of his pants before it came flying over the top to drape over the screen. I grabbed the belt, sliding it between my hands and then folding it in half.

“Which basically means I know everything,” I told Jiyoo triumphantly. I snapped the belt against itself, the sharp noise making Tae jump and Jiyoo squeak. “But I will admit I can indeed be cruel, to boys who deserve it.”

Tae stepped around the screen, his shirt hanging completely open and off one shoulder, gathering at his elbow, while he held up his unbuttoned pants with one fist. His eyes narrowed at me.

“Give me back the belt, noona,” he warned. I giggled and held the belt behind my back, shaking my head. “The stylists have already warned me about losing costume pieces, I don’t want to get in any more trouble.”

I shook my head again, backing up as he stepped forward. The game of keep away was familiar, reminding me of nights of drinking in the dorm or playing around after a concert as the adrenaline faded. “Nuh-uh, it makes such a fun noise. I think I’d like to use it to scare Namjoon later,” I teased.

Tae took a couple long steps towards me, gaining ground quickly since his legs were to much longer than my own. “I don’t care what kinky shit you and hyung get up to, do it with someone else’s belt!”

I stepped backwards to escape the approaching man, but I’d reached the edge of the room, where a series of tables and mirrors had been set up for makeup and hair, and Tae was in front of me before I could divert course. He reached around me with his free hand, but I twisted and bent to keep the belt out of his reach. Frustrated, he dropped the hand holding his pants up, letting them fall to the floor so he could use both arms to grab for the accessory. I was laughing, switching it from one hand to the other, trying to keep it from him even though I knew that with his superior wing span he’d pin me eventually.

That’s when we saw the flash of light.

Both of us turned to see Park Jiyoo with her phone out, the camera lens pointed at the two of us, with a look of guilty embarrassment on her face. I looked down and saw what she had been taking a picture of: a half-naked Taehyung practically groping me.

“What the hell, Jiyoo-ssi?” Tae asked sharply, and the woman looked panicked. She spun around and ran for the door, both Taehyung and I close behind her.

Tae was slowed down by his loosened pants, which had fallen around his ankles, so I was the one to slide out of the green room in my stockinged feet and shout at security to stop Jiyoo. I watched her try to evade them for a few moments, but it was a narrow hallway and they were big guys, so it wasn’t long before they caught her and took her to the venue security office.

I followed, speaking to the guard in charge. “She was backstage with us, and she took an unauthorized photo, of V,” I used his stage name, trying to impress upon them the seriousness of the matter. I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. I was used to being photographed when I was out with Namjoon, but this had been a private moment between friends, and I knew the situation we were in would look incredibly suggestive, even though it had been mostly innocent.

Namjoon, Taehyung and the other members were such a big part of my life now, they acted so normal, that it was easy to forget how careful they had to be with the people around them. Sometimes that nice young woman they were talking about art with wasn’t able to be trusted with their privacy. It was a wonder they ever let anyone outside their own industry in.

Venue security turned the situation over to Big Hit’s security team, who directed me to wait nearby in case they had any questions. Taehyung found me shortly thereafter, having re-dressed himself and then wandering a bit to find the security office. He wrapped his arms around me and I leaned into him, soaking up any comfort he could offer. The other members happened to file past on their way to prepare for the performance, Namjoon breaking off to join us when he noticed we weren’t where he expected.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked, immediately opening his arms and pulling me close when I extracted myself from Tae and approached him. “What’s wrong, baby? You look worried.”

Taehyung’s large hand rubbed across my back where it wasn’t covered by Joon’s arms. “There was a woman, a fan maybe? I don’t know. Someone I brought back to the green room with me when I was getting changed, she ended up taking a picture of noona and me while we were goofing off. Who knows, maybe more than one,” he explained softly.

“So what?” Namjoon sounded confused. “So she got some backstage pictures? It’s not like our relationship is a secret, so what’s the issue?”

“The pictures will look bad, Joon-ah,” I mumbled into his chest where my face was still pressed. Leaning back, I added, “Tae and I...We were in a kind of compromising position.”

Tae sighed and elaborated, “I was in the middle of getting changed, noona and I were goofing around like usual. We’ll just hope they can delete the photos off the phone and send her on her way.”

Just as he said it, their head of security stepped into the hall and approached us, while one of the venue security lead Jiyoo in the opposite direction, toward the back exit. “I’m afraid I have some bad news,” the security head lead with. “She sent a couple of pictures into a group chat before they grabbed her. One of the ones that got out…” He shrugged and looked sympathetic. “Let’s say its not flattering. I’ll contact head office, they’re going to want to get ahead of the storm that’s coming.”

***

I’d been more than a little worried that the commotion might have thrown off their performance, but all the members had been doing this for too long to let a little incident like that bleed through. I’d heard tales of shows on tour that they had performed hurt, sick, and heartbroken; one little kerfuffle with a rogue fan wasn’t going to shake them.

After the event, Namjoon came back with me to my place, as we’d planned beforehand. We’d been instructed by management not to look on our SNS or any gossip sites, management would get a handle on what was happening and didn’t want us to be unnecessarily stressed. I explained to Namjoon exactly what happened in the room, every single detail at least three times, but I still wouldn’t know how bad it was until I saw the picture.

I could only imagine the worst, though, remembering that Tae was practically shirtless, his pants around his knees, pinning me to the table with his hips and reaching around me with both his arms. My dress was so short it had ridden up high on my thighs, I’d had to pull it down before running after the girl. I’d remembered more details each time I described it to Namjoon, repeating it often enough for him to accuse me of trying to turn him on with it.

I stamped my foot and crossed my arms, pouting at him. “Kim Namjoon, this is serious! I don’t want you to think I’d ever do something like that to you,” I whined. “I just want, like, full disclosure. I don’t want you to be surprised.” He moved in front of me, putting his hands on my shoulders.

“I know baby, I know you’d never cheat, that’s why I’m not worried. I trust you, and not only that, but I trust my members. Sure, Jungkook has issues keeping his hands off his hyung’s things, and I’ve seen the way some of them look at you when they think I won’t notice, but they are my family. Closer than, even, and more loyal,”Namjoon said. He chuckled to himself, adding, “And if it was going to be any of them to try something with my girl, it’d never be Taehyung.” He ran his hands down my arms and pulled me closer.

“Hmm?” I asked. “Why?” The way he’d said that last bit struck me as weird.

He looked down at me, mumbling, “I told you, I trust you.”

“Why are you so sure of Taehyung out of all of them though? Because he’s your roommate? Am I so far out of his type that he’d never be attracted to me?” Something occurred to me, and I gasped. “Is he gay?” I started to backpedal, aware of how that could sound. “I mean, its fine if he is, of course, I’d just never had any idea, and I thought he’d had a girlfriend before-”

“Babe,” Namjoon interrupted my spiral into incoherent rambling. “Tae likes girls, and I’m sure he thinks you’re very cute. Just trust me when I say that Taehyung would never think of doing something like that to me.” He bent to give me a gentle kiss that quickly turned into something hotter.

Namjoon picked me up, not breaking our kiss, and set me on the back of my couch, his arms still around me to keep me stable. “Now,” he started. “All of your talk about this potentially naughty picture kinda got me all worked up. Were you like this?” His hands on my hips slid the dress I still wore up a little further, and he pressed himself between my legs. Evidence of just how ‘worked up’ I’d gotten him tented his pants, and I moaned feeling it against my thigh.

He kissed me again, lips sliding against mine until I pulled back enough to point out, “Yeah, just like this. But Tae was wearing way less clothes.” Namjoon laughed, shrugging off his jacket and helping me with the buttons of his shirt.

1 Day P.I (Post Incident)

The next morning I accompanied Namjoon back to the Big Hit offices, which photographers captured since they were waiting for us outside my apartment building. I wasn’t even sure how they had found out where I lived, but apparently they were motivated enough to do so and caught us by surprise. Namjoon held my hand as we walked as quickly as possible toward the car the company had sent for us, hiding behind sunglasses and masks as best we could. It took at least ten minutes longer than normal to get to the offices due to the circuitous route we had to take. Once we finally arrived and rushed inside, I thought we were safe.

I hadn’t taken the other members into account though, and we were greeted with whistles and applause as we entered the conference room.

“Taehyungie-hyung, your new girlfriend is here!,” Jungkook shouted, despite the face that Tae was just two seats away from him. Taehyung lunged to slap their maknae upside the head, and Jungkook rolled away from him in his chair, rubbing the spot he’d been hit.

“How bad is it?,” I asked the room. “We haven’t looked yet.” Jin whistled, the note falling at the end, and I knew it had to be pretty bad.

“Our managers will be back in a minute,” Taehyung said, and stood to approach us with a tablet in his hand, offering it to us. Namjoon grabbed it from him, frantically scrolling up to see the picture that was the subject of the string of comments on the screen. He hissed when it finally came into view and angled the tablet so I could see.

It was a worst case scenario. The picture was cropped so you couldn’t see that Tae’s pants were technically still on (though who knows why that fact was so important to me), the way the shot was angled made it look like my arm was wrapping around his far side, and worst of all, our faces were only inches apart. I groaned and sank to the floor in a squat, wrapping my arms around my knees.

“Babe, babe, it’s gonna be okay,” Namjoon crouched down next to me, patting me on the back. Tae sank down on my other side, rubbing my arm to comfort me.

“ARMYs are going to hate me, Joon!” I cried into my arms. “I’m going to be a villain in their eyes, like from a drama!” I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, but I managed to keep them from falling. “Tae-ah, you’re going to catch so much hate, too!”

Before he could answer there as a noise at the door as the managers returned, all looking very serious. The three of us stood up, and I ran my hands over my cheeks to make sure they were dry. Namjoon put his arm around my shoulders and I leaned into him.

“We’ve made a statement on Namjoon’s behalf, that the picture was a private moment that was taken out of context, captured by an over enthusiastic fan who was in an unauthorized area,” Manager Sejin told us, with a sharp look at Taehyung. I had a feeling he’d be getting in trouble for bringing someone “backstage” without clearing it with management. Sejin continued, “It’s a start, but we will need to do more to stay clear of a major scandal.”

I was a little worried about what exactly “more” entailed.

***

Sejin’s “more” turned out to be a complete media blackout, at least on my part. I had to take all of my SNS accounts private, or deactivate them, and I wouldn’t be able to attend any events or even be seen in public with any of the band until this all blew over. The last part would be easy enough, with Namjoon needing to concentrate on finishing their new album and my own thesis due date looming, we weren’t going to be going out together a lot anyway.

Big Hit and the group would also be making an effort to emphasize that everything was fine on their end, lots of content with Namjoon and Taehyung together on their SNS to show there was no tension between them and reassure the fans.

“I hate this,” Namjoon said, his arms wrapped around me as we sat on the couch in his studio. We’d retreated there after the meeting with the managers, to get the last bit of time together we would have for a while.

I nodded. “Me too,” I agreed. “But, we’ll make it through this, right? Its not like we were going to see each other a lot in the next few weeks anyway, with our own obligations we’ll be so busy.” I twisted in his arms to be able to see his face. “We’ll text and call and FaceTime.”

Namjoon smiled. “You gonna tune in to my vlive when I get bored in the middle of the night and can’t just come over to bug you?” he teased. I blushed.

“I always do,” I reminded him. I stretched to kiss his cheek softly. “I’m gonna miss your face.” He pulled me up so that my face was even with his.

“I’m gonna miss your everything,” he said, and returned the kiss, on my lips. “Gonna have to figure out a way to sneak out, like when we were first dating. Or maybe we should sneak you in.”

I smiled against his mouth. “Mmm, every girl’s dream, being snuck in like a dirty secret to fuck in your shared room,” I joked.

Namjoon chuckled and kissed me again. “I’m sure Taehyung won’t mind, since he’s the one who got us in this mess.”

I smacked him playfully. “Don’t blame Tae!” I admonished him. “It’s my fault, too, I was the one who stole his belt. I shouldn’t have been teasing him like we do at the dorm.”

“You didn’t bring some outsider into our space,” he argued. “And Tae will be forgiven much faster than you will be.” His tone was light, but there was a bit of annoyance or even anger behind it.

“Don’t, Joon-ah.” I spoke softly, still curled up against him. “He’s your dongsaeng, don’t go there.” I leaned down and pressed a kiss to his neck. “Let’s not talk about that, it’s the last time we’ll be together for a while. I’m gonna miss this, being with you like this.” His head fell back, giving me room to trail kisses down toward his collarbone, exposed by the tank top he was wearing. I couldn’t help but lick along the ridge of bone, dipping my tongue into the hollow by his throat.

Namjoon groaned and pulled his arms from between us so he could lift me by the hips, turning me and settling me back down so that I was straddling his legs. I rolled my hips against him and celebrated the moan the move drew from him with a nibble on his earlobe. His large hands slid up over my waist and started pushing my shirt up, pulling it over my head. He threw it to the floor, his hands back on me as he claimed my mouth.

Our kisses grew heated, no longer about enjoying the last moments we had together and instead building toward something more. My hands were fisted in Namjoon’s hair, holding his head at the perfect angle for me to dominate our kiss. One of his hands had slid under the waistband of my pants, gripping the skin at my hip, and the other was fumbling with my bra strap when the door opened behind me.

I shrieked and looked frantically for my shirt, but Namjoon had thrown it to the other side of the narrow room. Instead I curled my body in toward my boyfriend, only showing my bare back to our unexpected visitor. Namjoon leaned to one side, keeping an arm around me so I didn’t fall off, and grabbed a zippered hoodie from the back of his chair, wrapping it around me.

“What the hell, Tae?” Namjoon bit out.

Taehyung stood by the door with his hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he was apologizing. “I just came to tell you that security is ready to take noona back to her place.”

I sighed and dropped my forehead to Namjoon;s chest, and he squeezed me close for a moment. “Of course it had to be Taehyung, didn’t it?” he murmured, close enough so that only I could hear. I barked a laugh, earning a look from Taehyung that I didn’t acknowledge.

I stood up, zipping up Namjoon’s hoodie so that I could reach up my back to refasten my bra where he had managed to undo one hook. Joon stood up behind me, grabbing my arms and holding them, making me arch forward awkwardly. “Hey!,” I objected, but he just leaned down and kissed the spot where my neck meets my shoulder, sucking long enough that I knew I’d see a mark there in the morning. I let it happen, forgetting myself in the moment and relaxing back in to him.

Namjoon finally pulled back, and I could hear the smile in his voice as he declared, “There. Mine.” His oddly possessive comment made me turn to look at him, but instead of looking down at me, his head was turned toward Taehyung.

I pulled away from him and grabbed my abandoned shirt off the floor, balling it up and shoving it into one of the oversized pockets of the hoodie. “I’m keeping this, by the way,” I told Namjoon, grabbing my purse as well.

He whined, “But it’s my favourite! I’ll get cold.”

I returned to him and reached up to pat him on the head. “It smells like you, so I like it. You have plenty of other sweaters.”

He hugged me again, and gave me a fond little kiss on the forehead. “You’re lucky I love you,” he warned me.

I nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

***

That night we chatted on the phone. We didn’t usually need to talk again when we’d seen each other throughout the day, we weren’t that kind of couple. The events of the day, though, had left us both feeling a little more needy than normal.

“So, how was your day?” Namjoon asked, his usual conversation opener. I was sitting on my bed with my laptop open in front of me, going through my SNS accounts. I couldn’t resist posting one last picture to my twitter feed before making it private, knowing ARMYs would take a screenshot before it disappeared. It was a shot I’d taken a couple a weeks earlier, we were laying in bed after we’d woken up, and he was holding my hand up to his mouth to kiss it. His expressive eyes stared at me through the screen and I felt like I could still feel the love that had overwhelmed me at that moment. I’d captioned it simply, ‘Steadfast’, needing to make my loyalties known when the world was going to make a lot of assumptions about things they didn’t know. Namjoon and I were in it for the long haul, we would remain steady through this storm.

“What, before or after I was told I wasn’t allowed to see my boyfriend or some of my best friends for weeks?” I replied, though I immediately regretted how passive agressive my words sounded. “Any day I get to see you is better than one I don’t, though,” I added to help soften them.

“I know, the whole situation is fucked up,” he agreed. “But I have total faith in us, we can get through this.” We lapsed into silence, neither of us wanting to burden the other with complaints about a situation we were both stuck in.

“Oh,” I remembered something I wanted to ask. “What was with your little possessive act in the studio today, with Tae? I felt like you were marking your territory or something.”

“Ah,” he said, suddenly sounding shy. “I was just realizing that people might assume we’d broken up or something. Got a little over enthusiastic.”

He hadn’t really answered my question about Taehyung, but I let it go. “I’m not a possession, Joon-ah. Even if someone were to think I’m single, I am perfectly capable of telling them I’m not.”

Namjoon sighed. “I’m sorry, babe. This whole thing is messing with me.” I stayed silent for a beat, waiting for him to add something more. “And I won’t do it again.”

“Thank you,” I replied. “I’m not looking forward to wearing turtlenecks for the next week.” Again we fell silent, unsure that there was anything more to say.

“I love you.” Namjoon’s sudden declaration wasn’t rare, but it was exactly what I needed to hear.

“I love you, too.”

Silence fell between us. It was a comfortable one, though, borne of having shared everything we needed to and merely enjoying each other’s presence, even on the phone.

“We should probably get to bed, though,” I finally said.

“Uh huh,” he mumbled noncommittally, which meant that instead of going to bed, he was going to stay in his studio for a few more hours at least. Usually I would nag at him about getting enough sleep, but I figured he might need the cathartic release that music brought him.

5 days P.I.

“Joon-ah, what does 《bros be-pore hoes》mean?” I asked, knowing I was likely mispronouncing the English phrase. My English was pretty good when it came to academic subjects, but idioms still escaped me.

“What now?” Namjoon asked. We were on the phone again, our nightly ritual of the last several days, to compliment the steady conversation in texts we exchanged throughout the day. Last night he’d initiated a video call during our talk, apparently hearing my voice had made him really miss me in a certain way, and he wanted to show me the evidence. I’d never really been one for phone sex before, but it had at least taken the edge off. It was something I was going to have to get used to before their next extended world tour, at least.

I scrolled through the replies to the latest picture in the group’s feed, a candid shot of RM and V eating noodles. I had to separate them in my head, the men I knew and their stage personalities that they shared with the world, it was the only way to stop me from going off on the people in comments lusting after my man.

“There’s this hashtag people keep using, I know I’m mispronouncing it,” I clarified. “What does it mean?”

“ 《Bros be-pore-》-” he stopped midway, then said it again with what I could only assume was the correct English pronunciation. “Oh, 《bros before hoes》. It’s a rhyme in English. It’s about choosing your brother over-,” he coughed. “About choosing your brother over a woman.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t keep the disappointment out of my voice. “So they think you’ve forgiven Taehyung and chosen him over me.”

“Babe…” I could hear his bed shifting, he was moving around in his helpless frustration. “It was a long shot that they’d believe our statement, you know that. This is the best case scenario right now: they aren’t losing faith in Bangtan and fearing we’re going to break up. We just have to wait until this blows over, or some other scandal takes its place.”

I knew he was right, but it still hurt to hear him say that the best case scenario was having his fans call me an adulteress. I tried to keep quiet, but a hiccuping sob escaped me, making Namjoon curse.

“Babe, I don’t want you to be alone right now. I’m gonna find a disguise or something and come over,” he muttered.

“No, please, I’m fine,” I tried to convince him. “I’ll be okay.” My voice was as shaky as my insides felt.

“I’ll be there in like 20 minutes, tops,” was the last thing he said before hanging up.

6 days P.I.

I’d fallen asleep in Namjoon’s arms after crying my heart out the night before, and barely remembered him tucking me in to bed before sneaking back to the dorm. I’d awoken feeling better, more secure in our relationship and more confident than ever that we were going to be able to see this through to the other side.

Then I checked my phone. It turns out that my boyfriend was super smart, but be could also be a gigantic idiot.

“Joon, how could you?” I hissed into my phone. I was alone in my office at the university, no one to hear me, but I knew he was surrounded by people on his end and didn’t want them to head me screaming at him.

“I didn’t even think! I grabbed a hat and coat that weren’t mine that would fit!” he explained.

“Yeah, but you grabbed Taehyung’s coat, Namjoon. His Gucci coat! And you’re of a similar enough build that it’s easy enough to mistake you in the dark!” I wasn’t even sure when or where the photographers had caught him, only that the news sites were splashed with the image of a tall man with a very distinctive coat at my apartment complex in the middle of the night.

“You didn’t notice either,” Namjoon pointed out.

I ground my teeth. “I was emotionally distressed,” I bit out. “And now people think that Tae snuck over here to see me last night, and that you’re a fool to have forgiven him.

“I’ll fix it,” he promised, hanging up without even a ‘goodbye’. Or an ‘I love you’.

8 days P.I.

“Buying all the members copies of Tae’s coat wasn’t exactly how I imagined you’d fix things, Joon,” I said a couple of days later.

“Now they can’t say for certain who it was,” Namjoon said with pride in his voice.

“Yeah,” I signed. “Now I could be fucking any member of BTS.”

Namjoon scoffed at the idea. “Not any of them, I’m several centimeters taller than most of them.”

“You’re taller than Tae, and they still confused you,” I pointed out.

“I’m sorry.”

11 days P.I.

“Do you think Yoongi would start dating that girl for us?” I asked.

Namjoon mumbled, “Sorry, what?” He was distracted again. He was distracted a lot during our nightly phone calls these days. Working on the album, writing songs, and collaborating with both his members and other producers kept him busy.

“That idol singer he made a song for. If he started dating her, it would at least be something else for people to focus on,” I explained.

He sighed. “I don’t think he’d do it, but you can ask.”

16 days P.I.

It’s the first day we don’t talk.

I told myself we were both busy, I’d forgotten until it was too late to call. But so did he.

It hurt more than I wanted to admit.

20 days P.I.

The managers had decided it was safe enough for me to come visit Namjoon at the dorms. He hadn’t mentioned anything about it when we’d talked, but he texted me that morning to come over in the afternoon and to be cautious.

As the day went on, the data I was supposed to be analyzing was going blurry in front of my eyes. I couldn’t concentrate any longer.

I was leaving straight from the university to minimize the chances of someone seeing or following me, though the crowd camping outside my building had pretty much dispersed. After weeks of no nighttime visitors and my going nowhere except to the school and to run exceedingly boring errands, they’d mostly given up. Still, I had the taxi drop me off several blocks from the dorm, and donned a hat, sunglasses, and a mask before I got out.

Security was waiting for me at the private entrance and I slipped inside, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I made my way to the boy’s dorm and hesitated before I barged in like I used to. It felt weird being there, probably because things had begun to feel increasingly weird between Namjoon and I.

Seokjin looked surprised when he opened the door after I rang the bell, whether it was due to my bothering to ring or that he was surprised to see me at all, I wasn’t sure. Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook were all relaxing in the common area, Jimin on his phone while Tae watched Jungkook play Overwatch on his laptop, but they looked up in sync when I came padding around the corner. Jimin and Jungkook both jumped up to give me a hug, and Tae waved from the couch. I could see the hesitation on his face, and it broke my heart a little that he decided not to come hug me like he usually did, but I understood why.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Jungkook said. “Rapmonnie has been an asshole!” I laughed.

“So, I’m here for your benefit, not Namjoon’s?” I joked.

“Yes!” Jimin insisted. The boys sat back down, and I leaned on the arm of the couch, not intending to stay and chat for long. “He’s been super grouchy. That’s why Yoongi-hyung asked if you could come visit.”

The happy feeling I’d felt building inside me, that Namjoon had wanted to see me, had asked the managers if there was any way I could come visit, suddenly left in a rush. “Oh,” I said simply. Unsure what to do now, since Namjoon obviously wasn’t eagerly awaiting my visit as I’d assumed, I slid off the arm and into the couch, pulling my purse into my lap. My coat was still on, since I’d planned on heading to the studio to hang out with Namjoon after dropping off my stuff but now...

“Aren’t you going to go see him?” Taehyung asked softly.

I shrugged. “He knows I’m here.” At least, he knew I was planning on coming to visit after our texts this morning. “He told me to come to the dorm. I’m sure he’ll come back when he wants a break.”

Taehyung shrugged and turned back to Jungkook’s screen. I settled in, shrugging off my warm jacket and laying my legs along the couch, not quite reaching Tae at the other end. I watched Jungkook play for a little while, but my mind wasn’t on the game. Part of me kind of wanted to leave, to see if Namjoon would even notice that I hadn’t come over, but I dismissed that as too petty. Not that I wasn’t already being petty by not going to the studio, but I knew he would come back to the dorm at some point.

I felt useless, just starting off into space, so I pulled out my phone and started re-reading through some of the data analysis for my thesis project. I had to switch apps back and forth in order to make some notes, which was getting annoying, so I asked Taehyung if I could borrow the tablet sitting beside him to email myself some points to include in my own analysis.

“What are you doing?” Jimin asked, looking up from his phone.

I scoffed. “Boring math stuff,” I replied, my eyes darting from one screen to the other as I typed a short sentence about a possible bias in the data.

Jungkook took an interest and exited the lobby he was in, getting up and crouching behind me so he could see my screen. “What’s with all the dots?” he asked.

I laughed mirthlessly. “I’ve graphed all the data points from my research. In an ideal world, they are all supposed to fall between here-” I pointed to a spot on the graph, “-and here, in an even spread.”

“But a bunch are all together there at the end,” he commented.

“Yep,” I confirmed. “Which means either my data is incomplete, or there is a bias that we haven’t accounted for.” I let my head fall back so I could look at Jungkook upside down. “Which means I need to find it or find more data to include in the analysis.”

“Aish,” he muttered, bracing his arm on the couch beside my head and leaning his chin on it. “It’s all just dots on the screen to me. You’re so smart, noona.”

Footsteps sounded behind us and we both twisted to see who had come in, since we hadn’t heard the door.

It was Namjoon. Of course the first time I see him in weeks, I’m sprawled out on the couch having an intimate looking conversation with his friend while another had grabbed my feet out of habit and was giving me a massage, a fact I hadn’t even noticed in my concentration.

“Hyung, look who came to visit!” Jungkook said, bouncing to his feet.

“Hey,” Namjoon greeted us all collectively. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his oversized knit cardigan, horn rimmed glasses framing his eyes, and a black ball cap pulled down over his blonde hair. After so many weeks not seeing him, he looked like a wet dream.

“I came back to see if anybody wanted to go grab some food with me,” he continued. Silence hung in the room. I tried to tell myself that he’d just forgotten that I couldn’t go out with them, but their silence proved that everyone else had managed to remember.

Seokjin cleared his throat and stepped up next to Namjoon. “How about the four of us go grab something and bring it back here,” he suggested. “Give you two a moment to yourselves?” I met Jin’s eyes, thanking him silently.

I’d never seen the lot of them scramble so quickly to get out the door.

I had stood up while they were all running around, sticking next to the couch, my hands in the back pockets of my jeans. Once the room cleared and we heard the front door close, I looked up at Namjoon and approached him slowly.

“Hey stranger,” I said, and went to wrap my arms around his waist, but he stepped back. I frowned in confusion. “Joon-ah, what’s wrong?”

He reached down and grabbed something from the floor next to my purse, the hoodie I’d stolen and brought back to return in his hand. “Is this it? Because if you’re here to break up with me, I don’t want to draw this out.”

“What?” My confusion only grew, now that he was speaking nonsense.

“You’re returning my shit, you didn’t come down to the studio or even tell me you were here, you’re- you’re fucking flirting with Jungkook!” he rambled, his voice getting heated. “Just do it, already!”

I couldn’t help the edge in my voice, an automatic response to the aggression in his. “I can’t believe you,” I growled. “I’m here, I snuck over here just to see you, because I thought you wanted me, that you needed to see me. I brought your favourite hoodie because it doesn’t smell much like you anymore because I’ve been wearing it for weeks and I wanted to trade you for another one. But I get here and find out that it wasn’t even you who wanted me here, it was fucking Yoongi who asked, because you’re being as asshole to all of them.” I crossed my arms over my chest, huffing at him. “And I’m not flirting with Kookie! He asked me what my thesis is about! And as far as I know, you are the only man in existence who finds my discussing statistical analysis sexy.”

I watched his face soften as I spoke. “Babe, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’ve just been so busy-”

“I’ve been busy too, Namjoon,” I pointed out, my righteous anger not yet slaked. Now it was my turn to step back and avoid his embrace. “And I didn’t pull away like you did. Don’t try and pretend this is just about today.” Frustrated tears fell down my face, and I was helpless to stop them; pretty much any strong emotion made me cry. “This doesn’t exactly bode well for the future of our relationship, does it? Because after you’re done this album, then it’s weeks of promotions, and then your world tour. And it’ll be even harder if I take the job in Busan!”

I hadn’t meant to tell him like this. The offer from a university near my hometown I’d received a couple days previous had been weighing on me and I’d been looking for a chance to tell him about it.

Namjoon froze, his face contorting again. “Busan? You’re moving back to Busan?”

I let my arms curl around my abdomen, feeling very small and sick to my stomach. “My thesis advisor sent part of my draft to a colleague at the university there, and he offered me a job,” I explained. “I haven’t decided anything, and it wouldn’t be until after graduation, but…”

Namjoon scoffed. “Well, good luck with that. You think Tae- or-or- Jungkook would be any better than I am at long distance?” His stutter when he got angry was something I’d never seen directed at me before. “Good luck with that,” he repeated.

“Why the fuck do you keep thinking that I’d leave you and start dating one of them?” my voice had finally risen enough to be called a shout. “They are my friends. How many times do you need to hear it? I’m not interested in dating any of the other members!”

“Because I know you’re attracted to them!” Namjoon shouted back. “You told me, back before we started dating, before I confessed, that you thought every one of us was attractive.”

“But I’m not in love with them, you idiot, I’m in love with you! You’re impossible sometimes, you know that?” I threw my hands up, grabbing my purse and sweater off the couch. “Talk about a double standard. You work with some of the most attractive women in the world, I have to sit there and watch you actively flirt with them on camera, and you smile and give them that look-” I gripped the strap of my bag and shook it in his face. “But I trust you to know the difference between casual attraction and wanting to pursue a relationship, and to come home to me.” A sob wracked my body, the tears coming all at once and my throat constricting painfully. “I trust you. But if you can’t trust me the same way, then there’s no point to this, I guess it’s over.”

I tried to move around him, heading for the door, but he stopped me by wrapping his arms around me. “Please, don’t go,” he begged softly. I felt his body shake with sobs to match mine, though he was better at keeping them quiet. “Don’t leave me like this, please. I can do better.”

“What more do you want from me, Namjoon?” I asked, not moving as tears fell down my face. I was afraid to move, to look at him, not knowing what I would see on his face.

He spun me around, sinking to his knees in front of me. “I see now how I’ve fucked up,” he admitted, his voice muffled by my shirt where he pressed his face into my soft abdomen. “I guess I just got too far into my own head, and I lashed out at you, and I just miss you so goddamn much it hurts.”

I let my things fall to the floor and wrapped my arms around his head. “I miss you, too. It’s been breaking my heart, feeling like you’re pulling away from me.” I felt him turn his face up toward me and looked down to meet his eyes. “This doesn’t work without that trust, Namjoon. I can’t keep doing this.”

“Please,” he choked out a sob, rubbing his face against me again. “Let me try again, I can make it up to you. I can do better, I swear. We can be better together, just don’t leave me.”

“Can we be better?” I asked, more to myself than to him. “We have no idea when things will get back to our normal, this could go on for months.” My heart was breaking even though I knew I had to say the words. “And even then, I’m still busy, you’re still busy, and you’re going to be travelling for extended periods. And who knows where I’ll end up working.” I swallowed, trying to keep my voice even. “Should we just- just cut our losses now?”

“No no no,” Namjoon chanted. “Don’t give up on us, on me. Please.” He stood up, and I let my arms fall back to my sides. I looked up into his face and saw the pain spilling out of his eyes.

I’d spent the last days wondering if he’d been distant because he didn’t love me anymore, that he’d stopped caring when I wasn’t constantly there to remind him. The tortured expression on his face made those worries seem ridiculous. His love for me, his enduring affection and care, was plain as day.

“I don’t want to,” I whispered. “I don’t want to give up, I mean.” I leaned into him and hugged him around the waist. “I love you too much to give up.”

He returned my embrace, one of his hands reaching up to cup my head, tangling in my hair. We stood there for several minutes, each lost in our own thoughts, but so grateful to simply be in each other’s arms.

I finally pulled back and sniffled, wiping the back of my hand across one cheek. Namjoon’s strong hands cupped my face, this thumbs wiping away the rest of the tears. Once that was done, he leaned down and gave me the sweetest kiss on my mouth, just a soft brush of his lips on mine.

We heard a door close down the hall and turned to see Yoongi walking in from his room. “Thank fuck,” he cursed, seeing us embracing. “I was afraid I’d be coming out to see you alone and crying after the shouting, but looks like you’ve made up. Are you going to stop biting my head off now?” Namjoon laughed softly at his hyung’s question.

“Thank you, Yooni-ssi,” I said, turning to him. “I hear you’re the reason I was allowed to visit.”

Yoongi shrugged. “He was unbearable, and you said you missed him,” he brushed off my thanks.

“You were talking to Yoongi-hyung?” Namjoon sounded surprised. Doubt crept into my mind, wondering if his newly revealed irrational jealousy was going to make for another fight.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “I texted him a few days ago to ask if he’d start a scandal to take the spotlight off of us. And he asked how I was doing.”

Namjoon laughed. “I didn’t think you were actually going to ask him!” he admitted.

I bit my lower lip, knowing I needed to be upfront. If Namjoon was going to take issue with me contacting my friends just because they were guys, I needed to know as soon as possible. “A few of the other members texted me, too, asking how I was handling things. I thought they were just being sweet, but now I think they might have been worrying over you.” I met his eyes, looking for any clue as to how he’d react. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

Namjoon pulled me close again, placing a kiss on my temple. “It’s fine, you don’t have to tell me about your friends texting you.”

Wanting to make myself clear, I added, “You don’t have a problem with us being friends, do you?”

Namjoon looked me in the face again. “Of course not. What did you think, I was going to ask you to cut them off? Imagine Jimin if you just suddenly stopped being friends with him. It would break his little heart.” He smiled at me. “I’m sorry my stupid jealous freakout has you doubting your own friendships. I just- I guess I’m not all that good at long distance after being able to be with you for so long. That’s on me, though, something I have to work on for myself. Because I do trust you, implicitly. I swear I do.” I felt like that wasn’t the whole story, not the root of the problem anyway, but it was enough for me, for now.

My boyfriend leaned down to kiss me again, this time a little harder, more like he usually did when he was just saying hi. I let my lips fall open as his tongue swept inside to meet my own. He moaned a little into my mouth, pressing his body closer until we heard someone clearing their throat.

“Ah hmm,” Yoongi coughed very deliberately from where he sat on one of the couches, staring at his phone. “Are you done? Cause the guys want to know if its safe to come in with the food, and I’m hungry.”

***

I leaned back in my chair, resting my hands on my over-full belly and sinking into the comforting feeling of Namjoon’s arm around my shoulders. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel like a relief to be back here, hanging out with all of them again. Namjoon especially, of course, but I missed the camaraderie of the whole group as well.

“Do you want to come back to the studio with me?” Namjoon asked as he pushed his chair back from the takeout container covered table and stood. “I can play you what I’ve got so far.” I nodded and moved to stand up as well, knowing that ‘listening to what he’s got’ was code for some time alone, which we both needed and knew we weren’t likely to get if we stayed at the dorm.

“Hyung, can we hear too?” Jimin asked, rushing to stand with us. Taehyung and Jungkook both jumped up as well, though the maknae was still bent in half, shovelling another bite of noodles into his mouth. “You’ve been such a bear, we’ve kind of been afraid to ask.”

Namjoon leaned into me and groaned, but I could see the dimple in his cheek, so he was smiling at their antics. It warmed my heart, that he was willing to indulge them even though he knew they were using me as a buffer. “Fine,” he sighed for dramatic effect, his smile gone when he straightened to look at them. “It’s still pretty rough, though.”

Even rough, the little snippets he played for us held a lot of promise. The three boys were obviously as into it as I was, asking Namjoon to play some parts over and over and throwing out ideas of their own. He’d been working with other writers and producers, as usual, but I felt like I was starting to recognize the spin he put on each piece of music.

“And Taehyung already laid down vocals for this one,” Namjoon reached around me and clicked to open a new file on his computer, the smooth notes filtering through the speakers. He pulled his arms back around my waist, holding me tight on his lap, a position so easy and familiar it was hard to believe we’d been fighting at all.

Taehyung’s voice filled the room, the deep soulful tone sliding around the melody, and I smiled. “Oh my goodness, Tae!” I gushed. “Your voice is absolutely- It’s like, toe-curling!”

Namjoon chuckled behind me. “Don’t you usually call his voice panty melting?” he asked, loud enough for the others to hear over the music, much to my shame.

I blushed. “I didn’t think that phrase was entirely appropriate, given the circumstances,” I muttered, and they all laughed quickly before quieting down to listen to the rest of the song. Taehyung’s haunting voice was lamenting a love he could not have, purely due to circumstances out of their control. Tears sprung to my eyes, and I leaned back to ask Namjoon, “You wrote this one, didn’t you?”

He nodded, and added, “Taehyung helped with the melody and some of the lyrics. Not sure this one is going on the album, but maybe we’ll release it on soundcloud or something.”

I snuggled further into his lap, pulling his arm around me until he squeezed me so tight I could barely breathe. The combination of the sweet lyrics and Tae’s voice were only making that time alone with Namjoon more urgent. “Do you think I could spend the night?” I asked softly. “Ask Taehyung to pile in with one of the others, just for tonight?”

I felt Namjoon smile, since I couldn’t see him. “I dunno, baby, I think Taehyung might not mind watching,” he said, louder than I had been, deliberately making it so the boys could hear.

Jimin started laughing so hard, he curled into a ball and rolled sideways on the couch, bumping into Taehyung beside him. Tae’s face coloured and he looked pointedly at the floor as Jungkook giggled and slapped his knee.

I rolled my eyes. “Ugh, Joon-ah, don’t be such a pervert,” I admonished him. “Come on, isn’t it time you took me to bed?” I knew that would get a reaction, and it did, everyone laughing at my intentional hypocrisy.

“Aish, noona, I never thought you’d be so cold,” Jungkook said. When I shot him a confused look, he continued, “You get turned on by Taehyung, and then you kick him out of his own room to bang Namjoon-hyung.”

I laughed at his analysis. “Or, my lovely boyfriend wrote a song for me, which he got his friend to sing because he knows how much I love his friend’s voice,” I argued. “Really, it’s Joon-ah who is using Tae as foreplay.”

The guys laughed at that and Namjoon grumbled, telling everybody to get out, and we all made our way back to the dorm. No one said anything, but I saw Taehyung duck into Kookie’s room as everyone headed off to bed.

***

Despite how tiring our day had been, both physically and emotionally, neither Namjoon nor I wanted to fall asleep quite yet. We’d fucked as soon as the door to his room closed, all rough hands and hard mouths, then cuddled for a while and made love a second time. Namjoon had ducked out to get a washcloth to clean ourselves up with before we fell asleep, but he hadn’t waited long enough for the water to warm up, so I yelped when the cold cloth first made contact with my cum streaked thigh.

“Sorry, babe,” he said, moving quickly so as to minimize the amount of time I had to deal with it. I sucked in a breath when he swiped over my swollen labia, and he grinned. “A bit sensitive, hmm?”

“Just a bit,” I confirmed, and pushed his hand away when he moved to shock me again. He dropped the cloth to the floor, and I tried to see where it landed so I wouldn’t step on it in the morning, but he flopped on top of me before I could spot it. “You should really hang that up or something,” I pointed out.

“Mmm,” he hummed against my throat where he’d nestled his head. “Missed this.”

“What, squishing me to death?” I asked, slowly shoving him until he rolled onto the other side of me, but he pulled me with him so I was lying half on top of him. “You just missed sex,” I accused, trying to play it off like a joke, but I still worried that’s all he wanted me for.

Namjoon shook his head. “Nope, I’m sure it’s you,” he asserted. He kissed my neck softly, then pulled his head back, voice turning all serious. “Babe, can I tell you something? Promise not to get mad?”

My heart dropped, sure he was going to confess to something awful like cheating on me. We’d been apart for weeks, and I knew the sexual frustration would have been getting to him as much as it did to me, and he had no shortage of opportunities. I swallowed thickly, hoping my voice wouldn’t betray my inner turmoil. “Sure.”

“See…” he started, and my heart rate increased, terrified of what was to come. “For a long time, Taehyung and I have had this kind of friends-with-benefits arrangement-” My brain short circuited, not understanding what I was hearing. I was expecting something, something like an intern he made out with, but he’s suddenly confessing to some past relationship with Taehyung? His roommate and fellow band member, Taehyung, who everyone thought I was cheating on Namjoon with? I didn’t even know he was into guys, like at all. Namjoon was still talking though, so I tried to catch back up. “-So when he offered I kinda freaked out and he didn’t mean anything by it cause he thought it’d be cool, and I swear I didn’t fuck him.”

I turned on my side so I was facing him. “Okay, slow down. You and Tae have...a past?” He nodded. “A romantic one?” He twisted his mouth and brought his hand closer to our faces and tited it back in forth, meaning kind of. “Okay, not quite romantic, but sexual?” Another nod.

This time the feeling in the pit of my stomach wasn’t dread or fear, but something molten I felt to my core. Namjoon smirked when he saw the way my pupils reacted. I tried to push aside the flash of lust that had hit me at the thought of my boyfriend and his group member together in that way. “So, sorry, what happened with Tae?”

“Whenever we’re both between relationships and feeling horny we, you know, help each other out,” Namjoon explained unnecessarily.

I shook my head. “No no, I get that part. What happened the other day that Tae didn’t mean anything by cause he thought it was cool? I kinda lost the thread of what you were saying in the middle there,” I admitted, which made him smile even wider.

“Uh huh,” he leered at me as he said it. “So Taehyung saw that I was...shall we say I was struggling with being away from you for so long, and he thought I might need some relief of a sexual nature. And he offered by, uh, kinda waking me up with his mouth. Like, on my dick.”

I listened to him struggle to give me details, and the images his words brought to mind were some of the most erotic things I’d ever imagined. I glanced around at the bed we were lying on, imagining Joon splayed out across it like he usually was when he had the bed to himself, morning wood tenting the soft grey sweatpants he used as pyjamas. Taehyung, sliding out of the bed on the other side of the room and approaching Namjoon’s bed slowly, pulling down Joon’s pants to free his erection and sliding that wicked looking tongue of his from base to tip. I knew from experience that would be enough to wake Namjoon, but in my little fantasy Tae didn’t stop, crouched over my boyfriend and taking him deep into his throat a few times before Namjoon’s hand fell to the back of his head and Joon arched up into the younger man’s mouth…

“Well now, isn’t that interesting,” real life Namjoon said quietly. I snapped my head up to meet his eyes, falling into his all too perceptive gaze. “You like that, don’t you?” He slipped his firm thigh between my knees and pressed upwards. “Here I thought you’d be pissed, or need me to convince you that I didn’t take him up on his offer, which I didn’t, and that he knew now that it wasn’t something I’d be welcoming since you and I are together, which he does. Instead, I think you want me to tell you more.”

His thigh was high enough to press against my core, and I rocked against it. Namjoon hissed. “Baby, you’re soaking again. I can feel it on my leg. We just got cleaned up for bed, but you’re such a dirty girl, aren’t you?” he said into my ear, his voice low and gravelly, which wasn’t helping my level of arousal. I moaned and twisted my head to kiss him again just as a sliver of light fell across the opposite wall and the door creaked open. Namjoon grabbed a blanket and quickly pulled it over our entwined bodies.

Taehyung walked into the room slowly, glancing around in the dark to detect any possible movement, trying not to disturb us while he thought we were sleeping. After he stumbled over something on the floor, it was too dark to see what, Namjoon took pity on him. “It’s okay, Tae, we aren’t asleep yet.”

“Oh, sorry,” Tae whispered. “I can go back, I was just getting tired and it sounded like you guys had, uh, finished…”

“We were just falling asleep, Taehyung,” I reassured him. “Go to bed if you want.”

“Mmm, are you sure, babe?” Namjoon teased me. “We were just talking about what happened with Tae and I the other morning, and you were getting all hot and bothered.”

Taehyung coughed. “I’m sorry, what? You- you told her?” I wished there had been enough light to see the expression on his face, to see the shock that as so evident in his voice.

“Yeah, don’t worry, she’s kind of really into the idea,” Namjoon laughed until I struck his arm lightly. I didn’t want Tae to know I’d been fantasizing about him fucking my boyfriend and get all awkward with me.

“No, we are just going to go to sleep, you’re safe to stay,” I assured the younger man. Namjoon rocked forward, the thigh still between my own pressing against my centre, so I shoved him back. “And if you don’t stop that, my love, I’ll go find somewhere else to sleep, and you can sleep alone.”

25 days P.I.

“Come on, babe, please?” Namjoon begged. I sighed, knowing I shouldn’t give in but wishing I could.

Things between us had been better since I’d been to visit a few days earlier, back to the nightly phone call and endless string of texts. Now he was asking if he could come by my place for a quick visit, and being whiney about it.

“I have a deadline, Joon-ah,” I reminded him for what felt like the twelfth time in the five minutes we’d been on the phone. “I need to work through the edits from my advisor before I submit my final draft, and after that I need to start preparing for my defense.”

“I promised I won’t stay too long,” he argued. “I’ll even bring some of the guys with me so we have chaperones. We’ll bring dinner and we can all eat together. I know you probably haven’t been taking time to eat properly…” I looked at my messy kitchen, counters piled with bowls of half-eaten ramyeon eaten hastily in front of my computer, knowing he was right. Namjoon’s voice dropped as he added, “I don’t want to go so long without seeing you again. I don’t want us to end up doubting each other again.”

Of course he knew exactly how to pull at my heartstrings. “Fine,” I acquiesced, as he knew I would. “But only for a little bit.”

I really should have known better. Namjoon showed up with Taehyung (“the others were all busy”), dressed so stylishly in their ripped jeans and designer shirts that I wondered if they’d just come off a photo shoot, and filled my coffee table with the boxes of food they’d brought. Once we’d eaten, he’d insisted there’d be no harm in them staying to watch a movie while I continued to work. He just wanted to hold me, he claimed, so I settled in to his lap with my computer and ignored the movie on screen. I was so engrossed in my work that I didn’t even notice when the first movie ended and they started a second, but it was one of my favourites, so eventually I closed my work and settled back into Namjoon.

After a few moments of my leaning across him, Namjoon shifted so that he was sitting sideways on the couch, his legs on either side of me so he could pull me more firmly into his lap. I wiggled back against him and he let out a low groan, slipping his hand up under my shirt to splay across my stomach.

“Uh, Joon-ah, don’t be gross in front of Tae,” I chided him, but wiggled back again, wanting to punish him a little bit for staying longer than he’d promised.

Namjoon swatted at my thigh with his free hand. “Sit still, then!” he returned. “I wouldn’t have been gross if you weren’t being dirty.”

I gasped for dramatic effect and twisted to look him in the face. “How exactly am I being dirty? I’m just getting comfortable.”

Namjoon scoffed. “Yeah, you’re comfortably grinding on my dick.” The hand on my abdomen slid up high enough slip unter the wire of my bra and graze at the underside of my breast, causing me to wiggle yet again. “You’re killing me here, babe!”

I stopped, remembering we weren’t alone, and looked over at Taehyung to make sure he wasn’t about to run away in embarrassment. To my surprise, he met my gaze and smiled. “It’s okay,” he assured me. “Nothing I haven’t heard or seen before.” I blushed, but smiled my thanks and grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch, throwing it over Namjoon and I for a little more privacy if he decided to pull my shirt up again.

By the end of the second movie, Namjoon was snoring behind me and Tae could barely keep his eyes open. “Okay, guys, you’ve been here longer than you said you would, time to head home,” I said, loud enough to startle them both. Taehyung groaned, and Namjoon hugged me tighter, pulling me back into his lap.

“Babe, it’s too late,” he complained. “Can’t we just crash here?”

I muttered, “How did I not see this coming?” but still freed myself from Namjoon’s arms and went to the closet to grab an extra pillow and some blankets. “Here, Taehyung,” I said, dropping them on the couch. “The couch is comfy enough that I fall asleep on it all the time.” I helped Namjoon to stand and pulled him behind me to my bedroom.

We had settled down, ready to fall back asleep when we heard my couch scrape against the floor as if someone was moving it around. It finally stopped, but we listened to bare feet padding down the short hall to my closed door.

“Noona?” Taehyung asked through the door. He said something else, but it was muffled.

“What?” Namjoon asked. “Open the door, we can’t hear you.” Taehyung did as ordered, but stood in the doorway, not stepping into the room.

“Do you have an air mattress, or some more blankets or something? I’m too tall to fit on the couch,” he said.

I shook my head. “Sorry, I don’t really.” Tae nodded and reached for the door to close it again.

“Just-” Namjoon said with a sigh. “Come join us,” he offered. “We should have enough room.”

My eyes widened in shock, and I turned back to look at Joon’s face. Was he serious? I knew he was used to sharing a bed with Tae, but I certainly wasn’t. Did he really want to spend the night sandwiched between his past and current lovers? I may have found the idea of the two of them together that way...intriguing, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to lay next to them while they snuggled or something. I certainly wasn’t a fan of having the situation sprung on me like this.

I couldn’t exactly deny him after the offer had been made, though, so I scooted back toward the edge of the bed to make room for Taehyung on Namjoon’s other side. Joon grabbed me, though, and started pulling the both of us the other way. “You know I’d overheat if I was between the two of you,” he explained, and I felt the bed sink behind me as Tae climbed in. “You good?” Joon asked once we were all settled in.

“Yeah, sure,” I promised bravely. Tae and I had technically fallen asleep together before, but there was a big difference between falling asleep against each other on the couch at the dorm and sleeping in bed together on purpose.

“You know,” Namjoon began with a smirk. “If you get too hot, you can always take off your pyjamas. Neither of us will mind.”

“Hyung!” This time it was Taehyung scolding him. “This is awkward enough without you making it worse.”

I kicked my way out from underneath the blankets, sitting up to crawl out of the bed. “I’ll just go sleep on the couch, I’ve done it before,” I grumbled, trying not to let emotion creep into my voice. I’d nearly made it to the end of the bed before a strong arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me back. To my surprise, it was Taehyung who held me to him, not my boyfriend.

“Ignore hyung, he’s being an asshole,” Tae said, his mouth right next to my ear. I hoped he couldn’t feel the shiver that coursed through my body; I really wasn’t exaggerating the effect his voice had on me. “It’s just like passing out on the couch together, no big deal.” He had a point, our relationship had always been heavy on skinship and it had never bothered me before.

As if to further convince me, Taehyung started humming softly, some tuneless notes that turned into the melody of the song I’d heard at the studio, the one he and Namjoon had written for me. My body was still tingling from his voice, so I closed my eyes and slowed my breathing, hoping I’d drift off.

I must have looked convincing, because once the song was over, Tae started whispering at Namjoon. “What the fuck are you trying to pull, hyung?” His voice was harsh despite his attempts to keep quiet.

“Don’t act all innocent, I know you still like her,” Namjoon answered, his voice almost teasing and heavy with sleep. It seems Tae’s lullaby had worked on Joon as well. “Seen the way you watch her when she isn’t looking, use every excuse to touch her and hold her close. That picture, the scandal...I don’t know how she doesn’t see how bad you want her, it’s all over your face.”

“Hyung,” Tae whined. “So you just want to torture me? Force us closer to punish me for wanting her, or is this retaliation for interrupting you the other night?”

Namjoon chuckled. “No, nothing like that.”

“Then what, hyung?”

Namjoon was silent for a few moments, long enough that I was tempted to open my eyes to check if he’d fallen asleep mid conversation. Finally he spoke, but his words gave me no comfort. “Look at her, curled up with you in an instant, when I’m right in front of her. She was looking at you the same way, Taetae, in that picture. She wants you too, I’m pretty sure.”

I felt more than heard Tae’s sharply indrawn breath; he had pulled me right up against him and his arms tightened around me even further in his moment of shock. I had to will myself to remain relaxed, knowing that if I even stiffened they would realize I was awake, and I’d lose out on hearing the rest of this conversation they were having.

“I would never, hyung! Noona wouldn’t- She’s your girl, Joon-hyung,” Taehyung stumbled through the words, clearly at a loss for what to say to Namjoon’s revelation.

I wouldn’t have known what to say, either. My mind was racing, overwhelmed with new information and things to consider. Was he right? Did I really have a crush or something on Tae? He was probably my best friend, and I adored him to pieces, but I had been into Namjoon from the moment we met, head-over-heels in love for a couple of years now. Sure, Taehyung was attractive, but so were all the other members, and no one could fault me for enjoying the view. But I couldn’t deny that my relationship with Taehyung was different from the rest of the guys, we were closer and hung out together more, and were more cuddly, but I figured Tae was just like that with everybody. Unless that touchyness was a manifestation of some kind of feelings for me…

“She is, for now. Doesn’t have to stay that way,” Namjoon said softly, and my racing mind ground to a halt.

Next (Part 2)

#bts fic #namjoon x reader #taehyung x reader #namjoon x reader x taehyung #ipurpleunet #my fic #bts smut #namjoon scenario #taehyung scenario #idol au #bangtan smut #namjoon au #taehyung au #bangtan x reader #namjoon fic #taehyung fic #bts au #bts au fanfic #fic: this looks bad

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alphawave-writes · 5 years ago

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Sigrold week 2019 Prompt 5) Stories and songs

Synopsis: Cabaret!AU. Siebren is a famous Dutch cabaret artist and Harold is the struggling novelist who comes to all his shows. Harold goes to get inspiration from Siebren, but perhaps the reverse might also be true.

Read it here or check it out on AO3. Support me by buying me a ko-fi. Commission slots are still open!

Harold doesn’t drink. He really doesn’t, but the cabaret seems to be the perfect fodder for his imagination. He probably stands out a fair bit from the usual crowd, working away on his computer, typing away at his story instead of paying attention to the performances. Or at least he’s trying to type away at his story, but so far, he’s been having a serious case of mental block. He has ideas, so many ideas, but he’s unable to articulate them into words on the screen.

It was his agent’s idea that he writes a romance novel. His last novel got incredible reviews for the way he romanticized space and the stars, and his agent convinced him that his true calling was in romance novels, not sci-fi. In the end, it’s not much of a difference from his regular writing style. Less worldbuilding and more character-building. That’s what his agent said at least. But he is staring at the few words he’s written for the last month now, inspiration just out of his grasp.

He didn’t choose to do a romance novel because his agent told him to, he did it because he wants to. His normal process is to write from the most climactic moment and build from there. He’s got the mental image perfectly in his head. The two main characters, after being separated for so long, find each other on a rainy night. They’re exhausted, their barriers finally coming down after years and years of denying themselves the truth, and now that they are here, they have to speak what’s on their mind.

“Your eyes are like the stars,” Harry whispers. “Shining, shimmering, glittering for me.”

It’s the first line Harold’s written for this story, and he’s still unsatisfied with it. It sounds cliché and utterly cheesy, but he can’t think of a better way to start the scene. Every day he looks at it and wonders how can he change it. Every day it remains untouched, only to annoy him the next day.

It’s easy to talk romance when it comes to stars and space because Harold loves them dearly, whereas he’s never felt true romance for another human being before. It’s easy to see the beauty in them, the tragedy and the ache and the warmth they bring. Everybody talks about the beauty of humans, but no one talks about the beauty of the unknown but Harold himself.

Well, there is only one person, and that man will be performing tonight. Siebren de Kuiper, world renowned Dutch cabaret artist, is probably in the building right now, getting ready for his performance. He has such a wonderful ability for portraying multiple characters in the same song, with a massive vocal and emotional range in his performances. He can act, he can dance, but by far he is at his best when he is singing his heart, just him alone with a microphone and a piano, crooning for the universe.

“Here for Siebren again?” Chao asks.

Harold turns to face the waitress and laughs politely. “No, no. Just here for the atmosphere and the inspiration. And of course, to see your face again.”

“You say all that, but we both know you don’t mean it.” She peers over his shoulder, glancing at the computer screen. She frowns. “This is the same as yesterday.”

“I know,” Harold sighs, adjusting his glasses. It’s another uncomfortable reminder of how many times he’s come here, but at least the owner has been so kind as of late to let him come in for free now. It’s not Horizon theater with Harold Winston, they said and meant with all their heart. He promised in turn a free copy of his new book, whenever it comes out.

If it comes out.

“Come on, you gotta try something different. Order a drink, dance a little, live a little.” Chao leans in conspiratorially. “I can hook you up with some one-on-one time with Siebren if you ask.”

The last one is tempting, he can’t but admit as his cheeks flush. It’s no secret that he admires Siebren, and not completely for his artistic ability. “T-thanks, but no thanks,” Siebren says nervously. “I’m a stranger, a-and I shouldn’t intrude on him.”

“Come on, don’t be shy. I tell you, he’s a real sweetheart once you get to meet him.”

“I think his songs make it apparent he’s not as tough as his exterior suggests,” Harold chuckles.

“Oh no, he’s tough, but he’s also a sweetheart. Just depends on if he likes you or not. And something tells me you’re in his good books,” Chao smirks.

“Really?” Harold says sardonically.

“Let’s just say you both have a lot more in common than you think.” With a wave she flits off back to the bar, ready for the onslaught of pre-show drink orders to come in. He tries to ponder on her strange words but makes the decision to ignore it. Siebren is a performer, destined for the spotlight, and Harold’s just a struggling novelist hiding in the shadows. It’s an idol crush, Harold tells himself. Nothing more will come from it. It’s just better to admire from afar like he’s always done.

When he hears the familiar roll of the metal wheels on the tiny wooden stage, he instinctively closes the lid of his computer and turns to the stage. The Master of Ceremonies is smiling brightly as always, a little bit chipper today than yesterday. Probably because Harold knows they have a date with a cute omnic woman later tonight. He hopes that relationship goes well.

“It’s your all-time favourite. The star of the show. The harnesser of the harness. The universe at his fingertips. Ladies and gentleman, you’ve been waiting very patiently so please put your hands and appendages together for Siebren de Kuiper!”

Siebren walks up behind the MC and does a short bow. He’s wearing a standard suit with a swallowtail jacket, perfectly tailored to his body, not a crease to be seen on his clothes. His hair is short and greying, the dramatic lighting highlighting his sunken cheeks and creased forehead, but he is tall and he is large and he is larger-than life. He takes a seat on the piano, opens the lid with a loud creak, and with a flourish, removes the white gloves over his hands.

The crowd is silent, save for the odd clink of cutlery on plates. All eyes are on Siebren de Kuiper as he places his fingers on the keys. He plays a chord, clears his throat, then turns his attention to the crowd like they are just an after-thought. His expression is serious but not harsh. Harold knows over time his face will become kinder and softer as his performance goes on, which is why he’s surprised when Siebren smiles all of a sudden. Is it just his imagination, or is Siebren looking at him?

Siebren taps on the microphone, the static filling the room before quieting. The crowd is quiet. His lips curl up into a smile.

“Ladies and gentleman, thank you for coming. Tonight, I have a special song, fresh off the presses.”

Murmurs rise in the audience. Near the bar, Harold can see the owner and the bartenders talking in furtive whispers, gesticulating wildly. This isn’t planned, he realizes.

“I must profess, I have been single for a long while now, but I’ve filled that void with you, my darling audience.” Someone wolf-whistles, eliciting a sheepish laugh from Siebren’s lips. “Thank you for the enthusiasm. At least one of us is excited for tonight.” Quiet chuckles erupts from the crowd. “No, I am still single, but there is one among you who has been my inspiration of late. I have not spoken to you, but I have seen you, and I have heard you, and your words have inspired this song that I shall sing to you all tonight.”

Siebren clears his throat again, resting his fingers on the keys for a moment before playing. It’s a smooth, jazzy backing tune, embellished with tiny artistic flourishes to show off his ability. As he lands on a chord, his voice is deep,

Your eyes are like the stars

Shining, shimmering, glittering, for me

And although you may be so far

I’ve come along to see you

It takes all of Harold’s willpower to not jump from his seat. That’s the dialogue he’s writing for his novel. It can’t be that the one to inspire Siebren is…it can’t be him…it just can’t be. There’s no way.

Take hold of my hand

Sweaty, sticky, clammy, from you

I am sure that you understand

I just can’t stand to be away.

Siebren keeps glancing at the crowd but Harold knows that he’s actually glancing directly to him. How can it be that just from Siebren’s eyes, he hears so many unspoken words. It’s such a pleading look, as if to say “look at what I have made. This is for you. I did this for you”. It’s so touching and beautiful. But…why? Why would Siebren go to such effort for a stranger?

Oh, I know we’ve only met,

But I won’t leave this place content

Until my universe is made of me and you.

When Siebren finishes his song, the crowd stands and claps. Only Harold remains sitting, tears staining his eyes, throat tightening painfully. Siebren stands from the piano and bows, his eyes never leaving Harold’s. He gives a sympathetic smile and then a mouthed “find me after the show” and then he continues on his performance.

For once, Harold can’t concentrate on Siebren’s performance. When it’s over, he rushes to the backstage area and searches for Siebren’s room. When he finally finds it, he knocks three times. His nerves are rattled, his hands are shaking, but adrenaline is pumping through his body. He needs answers. He needs clarification. He needs to know. Why, why, why?

Siebren opens the door. Soon as he sees Harold, his expression softens immediately into a shy smile. “You must be Harold Winston.”

“A-and you’re Siebren de Kuiper. Not…that I didn’t know that before. I did. I’ve seen a lot of your performances.” Harold stops to take a breath to centre himself. Siebren is tall from the stage, but it’s somehow more terrifying up close. “S-sorry. I, uh…I’m here about the…song?”

“I-I realised that it’s technically plagiarism. I mean, I did write the melody, but the words are all yours. But they’re beautiful words and I’ve been stuck on song ideas for so long and when I read them they just suddenly flowed into me and…” Siebren blushes. “I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”

“I think we both are,” Harold chuckles nervously. He glances down at Siebren’s feet and stays silent for several seconds.

Harold can feel Siebren’s gaze on his body and his cheeks get red. Chao wasn’t wrong, Siebren is a sweetheart, but even so, there’s something about the air that tells him that Siebren doesn’t normally behave this way. Harold’s certainly never this clumsy with his words before. Is that what it’s like to meet your idol crush? This overwhelming, intense heat in his chest? What is Siebren feeling right now?

Harold gulps. “It’s a…good song,”

“You liked it?” Siebren asks.

He nods. “Truth be told, I didn’t like it when I first wrote it. But hearing it in your song makes it sound…I don’t know, better? More suitable?”

“I did tweak it a bit, I’ll admit, but I’m sure you’ve noticed that.”

“I did. It’s good.”

“I’m glad,” Siebren says softly.

There’s something so intense about the ocean blue of Siebren’s eyes. Harold doesn’t notice them from the stage, but they’re so big and so welcoming, like he can just dive in to the crystal waters and swim for all eternity.

“I…actually am glad you are here, because I want to proposition you.” Harold’s eyes widen. “P-propose an idea. Not proposition. English isn’t my strong…” he grunts. “L-look, in the coming months, I am preparing to go on a tour across the country, and I need material. What little I have seen from you has already been enough to inspire me to create one song, so I can’t begin to imagine how much more will come from me if we worked together.”

Harold lets out a breath he doesn’t know he’s been holding. For one brief moment he thinks he won’t mind if Siebren actually propositions him, but he will not voice that out loud. Not in a million years. “Y-you’re saying you…want me to work for you?”

“As a songwriter, yes. O-or a regular writer for my performances.” Siebren smiles bashfully. “I’ve…I’ve read your Universe sings series religiously. If you can replicate even just 1% of that, I know you will be a perfect fit for my work.”

“I…I’m not musical though. I mean…” Harold adjusts his glasses nervously. “Are you sure?”

“I am sure,” Siebren says. “But I understand if you refuse. I do not want to pressure you. I understand this will be quite different to what you’re used to.”

It sounds too good to be true. A chance to work alongside his idol, making some money, creating songs and performances that will be performed to hundreds and thousands. The two of them will be together, meeting each other every day, discussing ideas, laughing over jokes, touching each other’s hands, sliding their fingers down their chests.

Harold turns his head away, blushing at his thoughts. Siebren frowns. “Is that a…no?”

Heat creeps up his cheeks and flood his veins. His breathing goes erratic. His eyes are taking in that strong chin and large frame and beautiful lips. This is love, Harold realizes. Is this what his characters feel like?

Harold takes a shuddery breath as he offers his hand. “I’ll…I accept.”

Siebren grins as he excitedly shakes Harold’s hand back. There’s electricity to his touch, zapping him in all the most pleasurable spots in his body. He feels like his knees are going to give out any second. “This is great. This is perfect, I…this is a pleasure, Mr. Winston.”

“Harold,” he clarifies. “Just…call me Harold.”

“Only if you call me Siebren.”

It’s all for the sake of his novel, Harold tells himself over and over that night as he types furiously into his computer. He’s not doing it to feel that pleasurable feeling again. He’s not doing it so he can be close to Siebren. They’re just feeding off each other, giving each other inspiration.

This is not love, Harold fools himself over and over again, knowing deep in his heart that this is very much love.

#Overwatch #Sigrold #Sigroldweek #Sigroldweek2019 #Sigma #Siebren de Kuiper #Harold Winston #This is basically Moulin Rouge the film but less sexy #I've got so many AUs for these two it's not funny #Siebren: *sings a song that he plagiarised from Harold*#Harold: I can't NOT fuck him

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mad-hatter-ison · 6 years ago

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Sillyvision Presents Resurrected from the Blotter

A Bendy AU by me: Mad-Hatter-ison. All rightfully belong to theMeatly and Joey Drew Studios

Bg Note: Hi guys, well this be the first time I posted about my own Bendy story. I am planning to make an art comic version of this, for now I am typing the story. This may be the introduction/prologue, but I hope you guys love it.

Introduction

Many of you heard of the tale of a hero fighting against a ferocious monster who torture people til death because it can. Many of you also witness battle after battle of which will gain victory or defeat.

But what if the hero is tired of fighting? What if the hero doesn't want to be a hero? What if the beast doesn't want to continue its fate of hurting others and rather helping and live at peace with them? What if there's no hero nor villian?

However even with that playing a part, this story isn't about them. This twisted fantasy of monsters, sorcerers, and demons circling around to pounce is about me...

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Madison," I looked up from my computer desk to see my boss standing towards me, "I know you have a lot to cover, but you're already over your shift, do you think it's best to get ready to head home?"

I turn back to my computer screen of a ton of tech paperwork and piles of accounting invoices, then back at her, "I think I need a longer shift, ma'm. I need to get everything sorted out after the new year."

"I will think about it," my boss sighed, "But head home and get some rest over the weekend." I sighed back and got up, packing my bag and tying my blue scarf around my neck. I waved good bye to some of the co workers in the Accounting office, clocked out the shift time with a card, then left the building and towards my car on a very cloudy day.

I look up at the building and sigh once again as I opened the car door; I knew I could've just head home and relax for the rest of the day, but I just couldn't. Of course overworking is unhealthy, but whenever there's a file on my desk or if I ever think of an idea to draw or sketch, I'm always determined I get them done towards the end of the day or the week.

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

I started the car, turn on some music on my phone, and drove home. After I set foot inside of my home, I can see my mom preparing her make-up for a sport event. "I'm home, Mom." I spoke.

She turned and smiled, "Welcome back, sweetie. How was work?" I replied, "Well, the tech and new year paperwork are trying to kill me."

I place my work bag on an office desk as I heard my mother spoke, "Well, I'm sure you'll get them done, you are a hard working young lady." "Yeah, a hard working lady who's trying to get everything done and will not stop til everything is done." I spoke with my eyes rolled.

"Madison," I heard my mom walked to me, "I know it's difficult, but there's no need to stress yourself, it isn't healthy." "I'm trying, but no matter how I tried, it just kept growing and I couldn't keep up." I spoke as I can hear my dad walking downstairs.

"Hey dad." I changed the subject. "Hey there Madi," He replied as he ruffled my dark brown hair, "How was work?" "Madison is stressing out." My mom interrupted as I tried to cover my issue.

"Madison, I know this job can be stressful and you need to get everything done, it happens to the best of us," my dad said, "But your boss is nice enough to make sure you work and relax at the same time."

I looked down, knowing he could be right; but it's difficult trying to get eveything done because I always feared of getting fired or being a failure to both of my parents.

In a while I see them heading towards the door as my mother said, "Are you sure you won't come see the game?" "I'm sure mom, I can handle this." I replied. After one more hug from my mom, I watched their car drove off, leaving me at home.

I spent almost an hour watching old time cartoon films, jealous for the fact they can get everything done no problem and survive a fatal injury without leaving a scratch or a consequence.

Part of me just wish my life can be more convenient as the cartoons I watched.

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It was not too long when my stomach started growling and remembered there's barely anything to make; so I turned off the tv, grabbed my bag and keys to lock my front door, then head back to the car to drive towards the nearest grocery store.

It was already starting to downpour as I finished shopping and the traffic became busier and busier like working bees. I groaned, knowing there has to be a quickest way home than being stuck in sea of cars for the rest of the evening. So I checked a GPS on my phone and found the quickest way back.

Following the directions, I ended up driving towards the smaller part of the suburban area where everything is surrounded by trees and nature. But as I drive, I see a flash with a boom sound as lightning strikes a nearby tree, causing it to fall and blocked my way. I was hoping to stop the car, but as I stomped on the break it was already too late.

Despite the rain, I got out of the car and see the upper right of it was damaged by the tree. I sigh and reached for my phone inside the car to call my parents, but I noticed the low battery signal flashing at me. I panicked because it isn't safe to wait inside the car to let my phone charge and I can't wait outside in the freezing rain. “At least, there has to be a place I can wait out the storm...”

Just my luck there it was, a one story house with the lights on inside. I grabbed my bag and groceries and raced towards the front door.

I knocked and rang the door bell, but no reply. I tried to knock once more, but felt the door opening on itself. I peeked inside and saw no one's here, no sign of the owner. I wanted to stay there, but the wind and rain were both pushing harder that I didn't have a choice, but to jump inside.

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I looked around the building and everything looked old fashion from the box television to the old movie posters. I looked up one of them and tilt my head in curiosity, Bendy in Little Devil Darling.

“Who's Bendy?” I thought as I stared at the old poster of a gloved hand.

I looked around again to find the owner of the building, calling out for any sign for them, but no reply again. However as I looked around, I begin seeing some drawings on a desk and pictures of what appears to be two gentleman with a drawing of a character at the middle.

One man has brown eyes and dark brown hair in a ponytail, while his friend has blue eyes, dark navy hair, and glasses. I looked at the character in curiosity, showing what appears to be a round demon with a white bow-tie and gloves, grinning from ear to ear.

I shook my head a bit and went back to feast my eyes on the sketches the owner done. I raised a brow when I thought that they were some of the most bizarre ones I ever witnessed.

One was a woman with horns and half of her face was scribbled up, the second involves a dog who looked ten times human size and monstrous, third and fourth have two strange men , one has a camera head and the other was wearing some kind of mask; and for what caught my attention the most was the same cartoon demon from the picture, but taller, leaner, and ooze covered his face that turn his innocent looking smile menacingly.

I decided the best to ignore and not ask about the drawings and explore a bit until I find the owner of this curious home. Even if I chose to ignore, the images of the four bizarre beings were stuck in my thoughts.

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I then saw an outlet on the kitchen counter close to the wall and with relief, I pulled out my phone charger connected to my phone and plugged it in to see it charging. That was when I noticed the thing behind me.

I turned around and saw something big, metallic rectangle shaped poking out from one room across the kitchen. With all the curiosity I have, I walked towards the room to take a closer look.

What I saw was some kind of machine or contraption iced with stains and rust. It all came with a spout, a pump, and what appears to be a leaking container with a label spelled 'Ink.'

I knelt down to study the decade old machine, only for my hand to feel something cold and wet. I looked up and noticed my left hand touched the top of the machine that is flooded with the flowing container.

I shivered and got up while walking across the room again towards the kitchen sink to wash it off. But despite being wet and there for a few seconds, the ink barely comes off, not even a little. I kept trying to scrub it off, even with a sponge, but no avail.

I was about to panic, but then I begin to hear such a strange sound...whistling... Not like some train or metal whistle, but someone whistling a happy tune, coming through a door between the kitchen and the back room with the machine.

"That got to be the owner!" I thought again.

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

I walked towards the door and knock on the door while listening to the tune. However it wasn't getting louder towards the door, more going back and becoming silent as if he didn't hear me.

Without a second thought, I opened the door and look inside a very dark hallway instead of what suppose to be the backyard or a garage.

I looked around and held my bag tightly after taking a breath then walk inside the dark hall in hopes of finding the owner.

Little do I figure that as soon as I step inside that dark hallway, what leads out will immediately change my life forever more...

#Batim #Bendy au #Bendy and the Ink Machine #introduction #Batim au #Resurrected from the Blotter

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thechocoboos · 6 years ago

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may I request a modern AU in which the chocobros go on a good old fashion American roadtrip in the Regalia? and if they did, who would ultimately win control over their summer roadtripping playlist? thanks!

Hey there!!! Thanks so much for your request, I really loved writing it omgHope you guys enjoy reading this, and look forward to a new hc list shortly!!!

HC: The Bros on a Roadtrip

It was all Prompto’s idea, he suggested it one night at a bar

“Omg omg guys we should go on a roadtrip!” -Prompto

“Maybe… sounds like it would be cool…” -Noctis

“Yeah, could be fun. Camping in the great outdoors by night, cruisin the countryside by day…” -Gladio

They didn’t listen to what Ignis said about it (something logical and realistic, but the other bros said fuuuck that)

So they went on a roadtrip, giving Regis a mild heads up one day and driving off

Now. Let’s talk music…

Prompto, cause he’s in the passenger seat, decides most of it, as Ignis usually doesn’t care

So, they get stuck with either pop or indie stuff

Noctis doesn’t care too much; he’s usually asleep

Gladio sometimes cares, but he usually gets some time with the aux cord (he plays classic rock and metal music btw)

Ignis… Ignis rarely gives any fucks about what’s playing, so he lets Prom have a field day with music, but… if he doesn’t like a song or what’s playing… You bet your ass he will snatch that aux cord and play some smooth jazz or classical music for the next three hours (he says it’s to cleanse his palette)

So basically, Prom chooses the songs, but Ignis has the most power over music choice

And in saying that, Prompto also made five different playlists for the roadtrip: One with Gladio’s fave music, one with his own, one with ignis’ faves, and one with Noct’s faves, then one with random ass, typical summer-y montage type songs

He likes to switch up which one is playing

Ignis sometimes turns his nose up at some of the shadier diners they stop at along the way, but if the others beg enough he’ll eat there anyways

The bros camp most of the nights, and just like ingame, Iggy cooks (the camping idea was pretty much forced upon all of them by Gladio)

Ignis doesn’t like to let Noct ever see the map ‘cause then he’d make them stop at every body of water to go fishing and they’d never get anywhere

Prompto also doesn’t get to do too much navigator stuff, ‘cause he always gets turned around or distracted, making Ignis miss turns and go the wrong way allll the time

So, Gladdy is the official navigator

He’s so good at reading maps that he can do it upside down and backwards and every which way (he also takes them through the scenic routes so he deserves a gold star or somethin’)

Don’t get me wrong tho, he does mess up

Once he fell asleep with the map on his face and Ignis didn’t realize until they were an hour out of their way

Prompto has them stop at EVERY roadside attraction and takes so many pictures that he has to bring extra storage for them

His favorite attraction are the really dumb ones, like The World’s Biggest Ball of Twine, The Biggest Santa, the Jimmy Carter Peanut Statue, etc

He also loves the big attractions, like The Grand Canyon (even though he almost fell in while trying to take a good picture)

He also has them stop at any super pretty areas for pictures too

Ignis started saying no whenever Prompto asked to pull over, so now he always asks Noct (Noct can never say no to Prompto)

Oh, and in case you were wondering… Bathroom breaks. See here for more details.

Ignis is the one driving 90 percent of the time

Whenever he gets super tired, he lets Noct drive but Ignis always feels regret afterwards (Noct sometimes likes to brake check them if no other cars are around)

They let Prompto drive once, but that was the biggest mistake of all. He stopped every five mins for pictures, and at one point got so distracted by the scenery that he ran them off the road

So yeah

Prom doesn’t drive anymore

Gladio, on the other hand, outright refuses to drive (even though he has his license)

They stop for every meal because Ignis does not allow food in the precious Regalia

Speaking of the Regalia, they’re 90% sure they’re not supposed to take it on long trips or anything but… Noctis swear it’ll be fine

Noctis has to call his dad every night (Ignis always calls Regis behind Noct’s back to give him a truthful report)

Gladio has to call Iris every night too (his calls last at least half an hour, and it’s mainly him “mmhmm”ing at the stuff Iris tells him)

Sometimes Gladio gets a call from Iris during the day too, but usually it’s asking something small like, “Hey, Gladio, can I borrow your romance books?”

Normally, she’d want to text him instead, but Gladio hates texting, so she just calls

Speaking of calling family… Prompto tried to call his adopted parents to tell them about his trip (multiple times might I add), but they never answered the phone or called back after he left messages, so he just stopped trying

He gets kinda lonely seeing the other bros on the phone each evening (when they have signal, that is), but tries to hide it all the time

Noct noticed. He told Prompto to give Cor a call for him, “Let ‘em know what we’ve been up to…”

So he did. And then he did it again. And again. And soon, Prompto was calling Cor every other evening when the other bros’ called their families.

At first, Cor was confused and a little annoyed, but he had a liking for that kid, so he listened and talked to Prompto with no problem. Soon, he legit looked forward to hearing from Prompto’s calls and missed him when there were none. Cor tried to pretend that he didn’t feel like a dad to Prompto, but he started calling Prompto “son” in the end, anyways (Prompto may have accidentally called Cor “dad” or “pops” a few times, too)

Prompto likes to take his shoes off in the car and prop his feet up on the dash, but Ignis will stop the car and lecture him if he does

Noctis also takes his mismatched boots off, but his feet stink so he usually keeps them on…

Gladio doesn’t like to take his shoes off, but if he ever does, the stench would probably kill an entire ecosystem

Noctis has the worst roadtrip hygiene (he showers like, three times a week?)

Ignis? You bet that boi has some dry shampoo, some extra water for washing up, three different kinds of soaps… He’s all set. He will not go a single day looking or smelling like shit, mark my words

Prompto borrows Ignis’ soap here and there and he defo showers whenever he has the chance, but otherwise he just lives with insecurities about hygiene and hides his greasy hair with a beanie when they don’t have access to showers

Gladio is good with either. He’ll shower when he needs to, but he doesn’t let the grime get to him, like ever (“If our ancestors can live in the woods without a shower, so can I.”)

Ignis packs snacks and pulls the car over for snacktimes (he can’t have anyone going hungry on his watch!)

Sometimes Prompto will crank on some grand ole tunes that they all know and they’ll just cruise down the highway screaming lyrics (even Ignis will tap his hands to the beat and mouth the words with a dumb smile on his dumb, perfect face) and Prompto will take pics and it’s just such an A E S T H E T I C

Also Prom and Noct wear each other’s clothes sometimes when they can’t be fucked to grab their own (Gladio and Ignis are too specific in sizing to be able to wear the other bros’ clothes)

Prompto LIVeS for roadside diner food omfg

His stomach gives him hell for it and he’ll complain about gas or bloating but he can’t stop eating the greasy fries and overstuffed burgers

Ignis is disgusted by it all but he still eats it for the “original road trip experience” as he says (we all know you’re a slut for crap food sometimes, too, Ignis)

Prompto started collected cool looking rocks from each place they stopped at. Soon, his bag was too heavy to tote around and the bros were sick of hauling around heavy ass bags during camp, so he was forced to give him his collection (tho Ignis swore it was due to the ant infestation one rock caused but Prompto says otherwise)

Gladio, tho, he collects flowers. I know, surprising. He presses them between the pages of his books and plans on making a scrapbook (also surprising) with photos of them at the places they found the flowers pasted next to the pressed flowers themselves (he also presses extras to give to Iris, bless)

ANyways

They didn’t get proper permission to do this, they fought over sleeping arrangements and showers, and they argued over music sometimes, too

But in the end, they made memories that would last a lifetime and they began feeling like a weird lil family anyways

#ffxv #prompto argentum #noctis lucis caelum #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #final fantasy xv #ffxv ignis #ffxv gladio #ffxv noctis #ffxv prompto #prompto #Gladio #ignis #noctis

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grimelords · 7 years ago

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My March playlist is finished and posted on time for once! Please enjoy three and a half hours of my new and old favourite music. A lot of post-hardcore, country of a few different flavours and a thirteen second long song that goes beep beep boop. Enjoy.

Old Money - Omar Rodriguez-Lopez: Who among you will join me on my podcast ‘Omar Podriguez-Locast’ where we discuss one of Omar Rodriguez’s 60+ insane solo albums every week and grow gradually infuriated with the very existence of each other until listeners are just tuning in each week for the episode where one of us finally snaps and attacks the other with a microphone?

America’s Most Blunted - Madvillain: It’s weird that this song about the wild and wacky world of jazz cigarettes opens up with a Steve Reich sample before moving into some real Reefer Madness type lameness at the end. Songs from so long before any type of legalisation are so lame like 'recent research shows that it’s not so darn harmful!’. This song is still very good though. I only found out that Lord Quas was just Madlib recently but I really respect the idea of having a rap alter-ego that’s just you with a pitch pedal.

Love My Way - The Psychedelic Furs: An underrated part of Call Me By Your Name is when Armie Hammer hears this song playing from a car and sprints over to dance with a woman who looks like she’s doing the monster mash.

Seven Stop Hold Restart - Bear Vs. Shark: Despite their bad name Bear Vs. Shark are a very good band and the best lyric in this song is when he says 'I am nine years old with short legs and arms.’ What I like about this song, and this band, is that the screaming is not the sort of affected scream-singing of a lot of their contemporaries it’s just a stocky guy absolutely yelling his guts out, which I appreciate.

Turncoat Revolution - Hot Cross: I think that’s close to what I like so much about Hot Cross too, I’ve never listened to Saetia either (the other band this guy sings for) but maybe I should because I just love this guy’s voice. The central hammery riff is so appealing to me but my favourite part of this song is the ending where the three chords just shrink away as the whole thing mellows down, it feels like realising you’ve been mad at something that happened in a dream this whole time.

Mag11 P82 - Venetian Snares and Daniel Lanois: Venetian Snares is apparently doing an album with Daniel Lanois who produced a bunch of U2 albums so my dream of a Bono/Venetian Snares team up is one step closer to reality. I like collaborations like this where you can very clearly tell who did what part. It’s hard to mistake when and how Venetian Snares is involved in a song a lot of the time. I really like this team up because freeing Snares from any kind of melodic responsibility allows Lanois to give the song a huge amount of space, unprecedented in a Snares song where the melody is often just as frantic as the rest of it.

Cornflake Girl - Tori Amos: Do you remember when Tori Amos had that album called American Doll Posse where she was doing a bunch of characters or something and it’s got one of the worst covers of all time in my opinion and I think about it a lot. Had a song called Big Wheel on it that I get stuck in my head a lot. But this isn’t that song so never mind! I was thinking about the production on this song, and how crazy it is to have whistling as a big part of your song while avoiding having everyone think of it as 'that whistling song’. All the instrumentation on this is great, the mandolin and acoustic next to each other making a huge bed for the piano to move under, then the harpsichord sounding keyboard and the guest vocal near the end, there’s just so much happening I love it.

The Field That Touches My House And Yours - Sarah Louise: This is probably the upcoming album I’m most excited about right now. Sarah Louise (who’s one half of House And Land who I’ve posted about before) is pulling a real James Blake by releasing a lot of amazing instrumental music and then suddenly revealing she’s an absolutely incredible singer and songwriter as well.

Jezebel - The Drones: The Drones have a lot of good songs about how it’s the end of the world and we’re all fucked and we’re all gonna die but this is one of my favourites. The sort of wide ranging scientific nihilism of an opening line like 'strontium 90, removed from milk’ really sets the tone for the rest of this song as it lays out every war like an ongoing nightmare that you have no option but to participate in as your body and the earth turn to muck in their wake.

How Sweet It Is - Karen Dalton: Everyone always talks about Karen Dalton as this mercurial folk phenomenon but I really love her second album where she just does standards with a full band. Hearing her bring her insane, complete chaos sense of rhythm to these regular-ass songs is such a delight to me. The way she just swoops in on the first line with absolutely no regard for whatever else is going on really cracks me up. That the song has backing vocalists for the chorus just makes it better, I imagine them singing while glancing at each other with panicked eyes as she just wildly darts around the microphone and sings absolutely whenever.

Bang Bang - Vanilla Fudge: Pitchfork had some video about the origins of heavy metal and I lasted about ten seconds becuase they mentioned a 60s psychedelic metal forerunner named Vanilla Fudge and my brain went 'funy’ so I looked them up instead. This song is a nightmare I absolutely love it, there’s simply not enough organs around anymore. The organ sounds absolutely immense and balanced against their cursed harmonies it sounds even bigger, what a jam.

Ride For Me (feat. Young Thug & 24 Hrs) - A-Trak and Falcons: Young Thug has finally brought back his insane Harambe voice and I for one couldn’t be happier. I have no idea who 24hrs is but he for real sounds like when Justin Beiber first came out so that’s a thrill.

Space Song - Beach House: This might be the platonic ideal of a Beach House song, it’s just beautiful and I don’t think I really have anything more to say about it. Beach House put out two albums in 2015, they put out the on that this song is on and then like three weeks later they surprise released another one and I was so shocked by the deluge of content that I have never listened to the second one. A powerful lesson for Beach House.

Anna - Will Butler: This song is so good I have no recollection of what the rest of the album sounds like, I just listen to this song over and over and over. Every part is good. The brass, the 'ba ba ba’s, they way he says 'you Got to get Mo-nay’, the piano breaks that sound like he’s just slamming it with flat hands. What a gift.

Hawkmoon 269 - U2: Here’s the straight up truth that nobody wants to hear: Rattle And Hum is U2’s best album. It’s literally just The Joshua Tree except better. It’s every bad instinct of U2 turned up to 11, which is what makes it good. He mentions preachers like twenty times on this album and there’s a gospel choir on two songs, it’s all happening all the time.

Silver And Gold - U2: Here also, is the straight truth: this is U2’s best song. A proper straight up political song about a specific idea, incredible instrumentation and Bono realising halfway through his speech that the crowd unfortunately does not care about Desmond Tutu’s request for economic sanctions against South Africa.

Hunting For Witches - Bloc Party: Post 9/11 war on terror indie is such a good genre. Kele’s always been a bit of a lame-o and he’s really on display here but when the instrumentation bangs like this it’s forgivable. Bloc Party have always seemed like a band where absolutely everyone is pulling their weight and doing the most in every single song and this is a good example. The drums! Matt Tong deserves a trophy!

All Of The Lights - Kanye West: I literally remember where I was the first time I heard the drums in this song, that’s how good it was. I can’t believe I only just found out that every single famous person features on this song. I thought it was just Rhianna but it turns out it’s La Roux in the 'fast cars shooting stars’ bit, Cudi in the 'getting mine’ bit, and fucking Fergie in the 'unemployment line’ part PLUS Elton John and Alicia Keys in the outro? This song is ridiculous. It’s almost a shame that such an incredible song in every aspect features some of Kanye’s most boneheaded verses but I suppose that’s what I love about him.

Let’s Hear It For The Boy - Deniece Williams: I’d like to invite you all now to stand and give a round of applause for my dipshit miser boyfriend that dresses like shit and can’t sing, I love him. I love this song a lot because I feel like she’s talking about me. This is a great song that’s right at the top of my long list of potential wrestling entrance themes.

Hey! - The Go! Team: I was premature when I said that new Go Team album wasn’t that great because it is in actuality very very good. This song would make a good wrestling theme too now that I think of it.

Monument - Royksopp & Robyn: I put the T.I.E. version of this song on my list last month and that prompted me to give the original another listen because it’s honestly just as good in a totally opposite direction. A long bit of space-jazz instead of a monolith threatening to crush you.

Merrymaking At My Place - Calvin Harris: My friend sent me this song and said it reminded him of Mother! which is very funny in my opinion. Loads of people come to my house, they take stuff inside of my house, and smoke stuff outside of my house, lots of people at my front door, lots of people in my front door, trying to get into my house. At my place [leaning into the mic] Baby. [panicked] Baby at my place.

Precious Lord (Take My Hand) (Parts 1 & 2) - Aretha Franklin: I was searching spotify for a good version of The Day Is Past And Gone and ended up finding this Aretha Franklin album that is absolutely incredible. It turns out it’s her first ever recording from when she was 14, which is mind boggling. It sounds like it was recorded from the back row of the church so it has this incredible amount of space to it and she just completely fills it with immense power. Even her piano playing is amazing. The whole thing is just an astonishing piece of music.

Big Iron - Marty Robbins: I was camping this month and thinking about country music, and so this and the next few songs are the result of that. I think Taylor Swift should not only pivot back to county for her next album but pivot back to this kind of cowboy story-song country. She should, in fact, just cover this song. This is The cowboy album and I feel like Marty Robbins may have been the most American man that ever lived, he used the money he made from cowboy songs to finance a NASCAR career.

Country Dumb - Josh T. Pearson: I spent a long time on the fence about Josh T. Pearson because music like this always raises the question of authenticity. He sort of feels like the country version of Nick Cave to me, straining for a very very authentic thing but in actuality a Berlin art boy. The main difference between Pearson and Cave though is that Pearson is actually very good. So I reconcile it by telling myself he’s a sort of Lana Del Rey character singer or something like that. This song is so great and I especially like his guitar style of letting the words lead and the guitar follow, where the lyrics are at the forefront and every part of the music is purely in support of them.

Angel From Montgomery - John Prine: I’m so glad that John Prine is enjoying a bit of a late life resurgence in popularity among the Youth right now because he really deserves it. He feels like the songwriter that every songwriter loves but nobody else has ever heard of. I love this song, it feels like it was custom built to be some 70 year old country woman’s 'Hurt’.

Bogota Affair - Kid Creole And The Coconuts: A good and tropical song about getting cucked on an island and absolutely loving it.

Mientras La Veo Sonar - Rx Bandits: I figured out the reason I like this song and it’s honestly just that it sounds like watered down Mars Volta and I’ll take all of that you’ve got.

Joan, I’m Disappearing - City Calm Down: The way the first line of this song is an unexpected anacrusis makes me laugh cause it feels like the guy from The National just suddenly stepping into your room and collapsing into a seat to complain. I absolutely love this song, I’ve been listening to it on repeat. It’s melodically brilliant in the chorus, it just keeps giving, and structurally it never gets boring by just getting bigger and expanding the entire time to this huge emotional outpouring. I love the lyrics to this song because they’re so pathetic, which sounds like a strange and cruel thing to say but it’s true. It’s such a specific misguided melodramatic plea for a childish love that went on for too long and it’s just so heartbreaking and pathetic, and when it’s turned up to the emotional peak it’s believable and you sympathise. I wish this song went for five minutes more.

Footsteps - Dardanelles: This album was the critical darling of Australian music in 2006 and then this band just totally disappeared and I couldn’t find it for a long time before someone added it to spotify last year and now all their songs have <1000 plays. Very mysterious. I go through stages of being totally obsessed with this song, every part of it is just my favourite kind of pretentious art rock shit. 'This trail of breadcrumbs below your feet whispers like muscle cars on heat’? That’s good lyrics!

Queen Majesty - Techniques: I heard this song late at night when I was listening to ABC RN to fall asleep and some old guy was explaining how rocksteady was better than reggae and now I agree with him.

Opal (Four Tet Remix) - Bicep: The way this song builds around the central strong chords is just incredible, it’s a really simple motif and the way it comes back and sits foundationally through the whole piece. I love in the later half how the extra off-time melodies that seem to have no relation at all to the just come swooping through and almost destabilise the whole thing before those strong strong chords come through again. Also I have a strong suspicion that the snare sound in this is just Four Tet slapping his desk which I respect.

Jesus Came To My Birthday Party - The Middle East: I can’t overstate how much this song is directly wired to my brain stem. It is just perfect. This song is so simple but it feels like it came from another dimension to impart wisdom to me. It honestly makes me feel crazy. This whole album feels like the long lost brother of In The Aeroplane Over The Sea thematically and it really deserves a similar spot in the canon in my opinion. Please listen to it.

Eden - Talk Talk: The dynamics in the guitar playing is what really gets me in this song. The huge crescendo where it feels like the sound is being pulled apart from the inside dissipating to steam as soon as the groove kicks in. I don’t know, there’s not much to be said about Spirit Of Eden that hasn’t already been said, it’s transcendental music. It’s cliched but this is great driving music, music to space out and think about the universe to.

Outlaw Blues - Queens Of The Stone Age: What a treat to suddenly discover that one of my favourite bands has covered my favourite Bob Dylan song and done a great job of it too!

No Condition Is Permanent - Marijata: Ok this is embarrassing but the way I found out about this song was some goober on the overwatch subreddit had made playlists for every hero (Torbjorn’s was all electo-swing and pirate metal so who knows what the fuck was going on) and this and the next song were both on the Doomfist playlist, which was a lot of 70s afro-funk and highlife music which personally isn’t really telling the full story of Doomfist but that’s a whole other post. Anyway this song is great, and I’m glad I listened to this whole dumb-ass playlist to find it. I have a real affinity for songs like that that feel like the recording only ended cause they ran out of tape or the singer collapsed from exhaustion. This song could go for another 20 minutes and I’d only love it more.

Love And Death - Ebo Taylor: The groove of the drums in this song and the melodies of the horns are just hypnotising, and combined with the lyrics this feels like some very dark magic that I completely love. The guitar is really amazing in this as well actually, especially the solo where he switches back and forth between jazz soloing and just frantically strumming open chords.

Automatic (12" Version) - The Pointer Sisters: Huge fan of the extremely powerful megaman synth that comes in about halfway through this song and just charges the whole place up. I love how rich and deep her voice is, how it’s built on by the harmonies in the prechorus and then unleashed in the chorus. I also love how simple the chorus is, it doesn’t overshadow the rest of the song and the verses are just as good which is exactly what you want from a long mix like this. Huge fan of the deep guy’s voice just saying 'au-to-ma-tic’ during the fade out too, give that guy some more to do.

White Girl - Soul Coughing: Lyrically most Soul Coughing songs sound like somewhere between echolalia and reading out every street sign that you see, which is very appealing to me because that’s essentially how I communicate, but this one feels like a dire warning about an approaching conqueror. Also the ending of this song make me laugh because it’s the same as at the end of New Noise by Refused where he just screams 'THE NEW BEAT’ over and over and over after the instruments have all finished and in my eyes that’s a very very funny thing to do with the phrase 'white girl’.

Tone Tone Tone & Tone Tone Two - Shuta Hasunuma and U-zhaan: This album feels like some real Tiny Mix Tapes-core; a collaboration between two Japanese composers - a found object orchestra composer and a tabla player but against all odds it’s actually good. Unfortunately my favourite part of it is this 13 second piece of music that sounds like the brand ID for a very high-end podcast network.

I Won’t Be Found - The Tallest Man On Earth: I listened to this song eight times in a row and sang along the whole time on my drive home from work the other day. His voice is so uniquely good, a cowboy yodel with a slight swedish accent. I’m hooked right from when he sings 'morning’ as 'morning-AH’.

Now U Got Me Hooked - A.A.L: I can’t get over how good this new Nicolas Jaar side project album is. It’s just wall to wall bangers, a perfect party album. I love the really raw sound of a lot of the drums in this song; the huge clap that’s on the edge of being over-distorted mixed with a huge rumbling kick blowing out the low frequency that eventually cleans up and brings the sample back in and almost eliminates the bass entirely before it drops again and the sequence starts over. I love how long a lot of the songs on this album are, every idea is given so much room to completely stretch out.

Ride - Lana Del Rey: I saw Lana live last night and as soon as the first notes of this song played the girl in front of me absolutely screamed 'BITCH!!’ and I felt a real kinship with her. I really think this might be my favourite song of hers. It makes me so emotional every time and I can’t even pinpoint why. The way she sings 'fucking crazy’ the huge, sweeping chorus. It’s just amazing, I love her so much! Bitch!!

listen here

#playlists

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slusheeduck · 7 years ago

Text

Here’s @lancendydreamer‘s prize for the giveaway contest! She wanted a fic and drawing of alive!Hector and dead!Miguel, so I went completely overboard and wrote a whole sort-of, kind-of Reverse!AU-type story.

(I also took some inspiration from her really neat AU!! You should check it out!!)

Some notes under the cut, as well as the monster fic itself.

NOTES:

Takes place in 1918

This is my first ever attempt at any sort of Reverse!AU, so it’s pretty simplistic. It’s more “fun adventure with a guy and a dead kid” rather than “centuries-old family drama and learning that sometimes your heroes are terrible, terrible people who murder your great-great-grandpa.” Some bits are a little glossed over, so yanno, if anyone else wants to elaborate PLEASE be my guest!

The guitar belongs to Chicharron. This isn’t ever mentioned, I just died when I thought about it and you all need to know.

This was a lot of fun to write, so have some fun reading it!

“So then maybe…C to an E?” Héctor strummed the line curiously, ignoring the irritated looks from the other passengers of the train car. He grimaced. “Hm. Well, what do you think, amigo?”

Ernesto let out a long sigh. “My friend, anything you put out will be perfect.” Despite his easy smile, Héctor could hear the strain in his friend’s voice. And, honestly, he couldn’t blame him. It’d been weeks since Héctor had come up with anything halfway decent, and he was practically panicking every time he picked up his songbook. Normally, his head was full of songs—too many to write—but now, whenever he opened up to a blank page, there was just…nothing. No music, no lyrics. His brain was as empty as the page.

He suspected part of it, at least, was due to the intense schedule Ernesto had for them now that they were a little more than complete unknowns. For nearly a year now, their lives had been travel, sleep, and performing; nearly every other day, they were piled on a train and headed from one end of México to the other. At first, it’d been thrilling—the people, the cities, the music!—but now, Héctor found, there was very little time for actual living, and that was where the songs came from.

So he’d had the bright idea of going home.

Ernesto had fought tooth and nail against going back to Santa Cecilia. It was a nothing town, he’d complained, and they’d both outgrown it. But, Héctor argued back, there was the annual talent show on Día de Muertos, and wouldn’t it be something if Santa Cecilia’s two favorite sons came back with a brand new song?

That argument didn’t work. What did work was when he mentioned that homecomings made for really great inspiration for songwriting, and if he didn’t get something written soon, they could kiss their dreams of fame goodbye. So here they were on the train, following Héctor’s perfect plan.

Or, well, it would be if Héctor could actually come up with a song for the show.

Going off of his C to E idea, he plucked out a simple tune, then groaned. “No, no, no. None of it’s working.”

Ernesto sent him an unimpressed look. “I understand that you’ve been having trouble with this, Héctor, but maybe you could have come up with something before the train ride? That might have saved you some stress.”

Héctor shrugged. “I thought I might work well under pressure.”

“You constantly fall apart under pressure. Remember the show in Morelia?”

“All right, but that was…”

“Or that time in the cantina? You know, with the dog?”

“Now that doesn’t cou—”

“Or when Marisol asked—”

“Okay. Okay! I don’t do well under pressure, esta claro!” He huffed as he looked down at the beaten guitar in his hands, then got to his feet. “I need some air. I’ll be back.”

Ernesto looked up at him. “Be careful. I don’t need you falling off the train before we even get to Santa Cecilia.”

Héctor gave him a vague wave in acknowledgement as he walked to the back of the car and through the one after it. He sucked in a breath as he opened the door to the back platform, shoes clanging slightly on the metal floor and hair whipping wildly in the wind. He eyed the opening suspiciously—a little rope was the only thing closing it off—and nestled himself against the opposite corner of the railing, squeezing his hip against it to stay steady as he started plucking out the tune he’d been working on.

Come on, come on. Why was nothing coming to him? He was surrounded by inspiration: the people on the train, the towns zipping past, traveling back home—there was absolutely no excuse for him to keep drawing a blank.

He threw his hand off his guitar with an irritated pah before dragging it down his face. Maybe he’d really run dry. Por Dios, wouldn’t that be tragic? Héctor Rivera, barely twenty years old and already with his best days behind him. If that were really the case, he’d be better off—

“Ay!”

The train hit a bump on the track, and Héctor was practically thrown into the air. His free hand tried to grip the railing, but his fingertips slid off the cold metal. Ah, but he managed to keep upright…until the train hit a sharp curve. He yelped as his feet slid on the metal floor, pitching him toward the opening in the railing.

He faintly heard the crash of wood on metal as he let go of his guitar, but his brain was purely focused on not falling off the train as he managed to grab a hold of the railing at the last moment. The train straightened out, and Héctor stood up with a high-pitched little laugh. Ave María Purísma, that could have been bad. He let out a breath as he leaned against the railing. Well, hopefully his guitar wasn’t too worse for the…

Wait.

Where was his guitar?

He looked up with wide eyes at the track. It couldn’t have…No no no! He let out a cry of dismay as he saw it just off the tracks, quickly getting smaller as the train pulled ahead. It must have slid out during the turn. Was there an emergency brake or something he could…He yelped and gripped the railing again as they hit another turn.

And just like that, the guitar was gone.

He stood very still for a long moment, slack-jawed and knuckles white from gripping the railing so hard. Oh no. No no no no nooo nonono. This was…this was probably the worst possible thing to happen. He stood for a few moments longer, brain fizzling until it finally burst into full-panic mode and he launched himself back into the train car.

“Ernesto!”

Ernesto jumped up as Héctor nearly toppled into the seat. “Héctor, are y—”

“I-I lost my guitar! It fell of the train!”

“Your…guitar fe—”

“I know, I know! But…but we can make it work! We can! I just…look, if I could play your guitar and you sing…”

“And how are we going to pull that off?” Ernesto interrupted sharply, eyes blazing with frustration. “All our songs need two guitars. Dios mio, Héctor, I knew you could be completely tonto sometimes but this? This is—”

“I know it’s bad! A-a-and I’ll make it right, okay? Just…look, I can change the arrangement and…”

“With what time?! Santa Cecilia’s the next stop!”

“What?!”

Héctor threw himself over Ernesto to look out the window, biting back some words not fit for a crowded train carriage. He knew these houses; Santa Cecilia was less than five minutes away.

“Mmmmokay! Okayokay, I’ll fix this. I’ll fix this.” Héctor pushed himself back up and grabbed his sombrero from the seat. He jammed it on his head as the train started to slow. “Meet me in the Plaza! I’ll have a guitar soon, I swear!” he called over his shoulder as he headed to the carriage’s door. As the train lurched into the station, he hopped off the steps light as anything and bolted right into Santa Cecilia.

Ayy, it’d been a long time since he’d been back here, but if he remembered right, the Perez’s should still have a music shop right around…

Two yelps rang out in the street as Héctor tripped. He pulled himself up, rubbing his cheek, then turned to see what had tripped him. A mostly hairless dog with entirely too much tongue looked up at him balefully. He quickly pat the dog’s head before getting back to his feet.

“Apologizes, perrito, but I’m in a hurry. I need to find…” He started to turn, then gave a bright grin. “The music store!”

Oh, God was smiling on him today. He’d pay all the money he had on him if needed; a guitar for the talent show was worth every single peso he had. Which…wasn’t much, but still. He loped up to the entrance, still grinning, and pulled the door open.

Well, he tried to. It was locked fast.

He backed away with wide eyes, just now noticing the “Cerrado” sign in the window. Closed? Closed?! Nooo, no no no! It couldn’t be closed!

He let his head fall back with a groan. Actually, of course it would be closed. It was Día de Muertos, everything would be closed. But…maybe they had just closed? And they would feel very, very terrible for the poor man outside—with no family to go to tonight!—and let him buy a guitar? It was worth a try, at least.

He rapped his knuckles against the door until they stung, calling out, “Señor Perez! It’s Héctor! I know you’ve missed me! I just need a guitar, I’ll pay anything you’d like for one! I really will this time!”

He stood there, knocking and calling, for several minutes, but nobody came. He finally banged his head against the door with a groan, not even bothering to catch his sombrero as it fell off his head. This was hopeless. He couldn’t buy a guitar, and he knew musicians too well to even pretend someone would loan him theirs. He was completely out of options.

He glanced behind him as he heard a bark. There was that dog again, tail wagging and tongue lolling out as he looked up at Héctor. Despite himself, he laughed a bit and shook his head.

“You know, I don’t think you’re too bright, pélon. Most dogs wouldn’t like the guy that tripped over them.”

The dog barked again, then became suddenly preoccupied with Héctor’s hat, sniffing it intently. Héctor laughed.

“Well, at least you’re willing to—oyé!” he called as the dog picked up his hat and bolted. Héctor sprinted after him. It was bad enough to have to go back to Ernesto without a guitar, but with his charro suit in shambles? Ernesto would kill him for that.

Héctor kept close to the dog, but Pélon here was awfully slippery. He wound through all of Santa Cecilia, managing to keep just out of Héctor’s reach. Every now and again he’d look back at Héctor, tail wagging, and give a muffled bark. Of course, this was a game to this dumb dog; he didn’t realize Héctor’s livelihood was on the line.

Finally (and fittingly), they bolted through the cemetery gates, just barely dodging the families starting to trickle in. The dog seemed to get finally tired of the chase, and he just stopped. Héctor barely skidded to a stop before tripping over him again, and he quickly reached forward to snatch the sombrero away, only for Pélon to jump out of the way, hat in mouth and tail wagging furiously. Mierda. He stood up straight, looking around for something, anything, to get him to let go of the hat. Ah, someone had left some chicharrón on this grave. Surely the very nice soul this belonged to wouldn’t mind…

Oh.

His eyes widened as he caught sight of it. An absolutely beautiful guitar sparkled up at him, orange light from nearby candles glinting off the white, polished wood. On the headboard, a skull grinned up at him.

He was saved.

His hands immediately went toward it, but he stopped himself. This seemed…like maybe not a good idea. After all, if this guitar was left out tonight, that meant it was an offering. And a fairly pricy one at that. But…well, it wasn’t like this person would need it. They were dead! Surely they wouldn’t mind him borrowing it for an hour at most.

He pressed his lips together hard, peering down at the etching on the gravestone. Unreadable in this light. He swallowed as he looked at the guitar again.

“Ah…perdóname…but, look, I really need to borrow this guitar,” he whispered. “It’s just for a little bit, just for the talent show. You know, the one in the Plaza? It’s…I’ve had no inspiration lately, but I think this’ll help. I…I really need tonight to go well. And I’ll bring it right back the moment we’re done performing.” He looked away. “Uh, if you knew me when you were alive, I could see why you might not believe me. But I’ll keep my word this time. I will, swear on my life.”

He gave the grave a hopeful smile, then picked up the guitar. Oh, it was lovely. He ran his hand over the smooth wood, then smiled as he lifted his hand to give an experimental strum. He was stopped, though, by a muffled whine behind him. He turned, then sighed. Ah, right, the dog still had his hat.

“I’m gonna need that, pélon,” he said, leaning down to grab the sombrero. The dog leapt back, whining again. Nope, still playing apparently. Héctor stood up with a huff, then glanced back down at the grave. Well…the owner didn’t seem to mind him borrowing the guitar…surely they could spare a teeny, tiny bit of their chicharrón.

He broke off a bit of one of the chunks, then whistled. “Hey, perrito! Look!”

The dog looked up, immediately aware that Héctor was holding food. He dropped the hat, drool already dripping from his mouth, and when Héctor threw it, he scrambled so quickly that he kept falling over himself. Heh. All things considered, it was a shame to say goodbye to his new friend, but the plaza beckoned. Héctor picked up his sombrero—a little drooly, but otherwise not too worse for the wear—and set it on his head before looking back down at the guitar. He took a breath, then shut his eyes and played a quick rift on it.

Beautiful. Even the wind thought so, gusting over him as the notes faded. He laughed as he opened his eyes. If that wasn’t a sign that borrowing the guitar was a good idea, he didn’t know what w—

Wait.

The cemetery seemed…fuller than before. But something was strange about the new arrivals. Héctor squinted at one family, then sucked in a gasp.

He was never particularly good at being religious, but what he saw made him cross himself immediately. He must be crazy. Or dreaming. There was no way the graveyard could be full of…

Skeletons?

Héctor stared in shock at the dozens of skeletons milling about the cemetery, easy as anything. Most of them seemed to be in their Sunday best, staying close to groups of family members and acting as if this weren’t completely unnatural. Where had they even come from? Why hadn’t he seen them come in?

Why wasn’t anyone else freaking out?

As a man walked by, he quickly ran up to him. “Oyé! Do you see them? Is it just me?” The man ignored him. “I’m serious! Don’t you see all the…there are skeletons! Everywhere!” The man didn’t even glance at him. Was he deaf? “Hey, listen to—” Héctor reached forward to grab the man’s arm, only to gape in shock as his hand went right through his arm. He tried to grab at it again, and again, but his hand kept passing through.

No, nooo, nonono. This couldn’t be happening. He…he must have hit his head hard when he tripped over the dog. He must be having some sort of…trauma-induced nightmare. He couldn’t be invisible.

As if to prove him wrong, a couple walked right through him. A sick feeling coursed through Héctor at the sensation, and he dropped the guitar as he tried to stay upright. He shook his head as he leaned against a tombstone, breathing hard. This couldn’t be real. It could not be real.

“Ah, señor? Are you all right?” came a soft voice from behind him.

Por Dios, finally someone could see him. He swallowed down the last of the nausea as he stood up.

“I…I don’t know. But I think…” He turned to face the woman who’d spoken…and was met by a concerned-looking skull.

They both screamed.

He scrambled back from the woman, crashing into someone behind him. He whirled as he heard the man’s irritated groan as his bones clattered to the ground.

“Why don’t you watch where—” His skull started to snap, but he gasped as he saw Héctor. “You’re alive!”

The man’s exclamation turned all the nearby skulls right toward Héctor. He froze in fear as they came closer. As one skeleton reached out toward him, his brain broke out into a full panic, and he bolted away. He kept running, feet sliding in soft dirt but barely managing to keep himself upright, until he found a secluded part of the cemetery and weakly dropped down behind a tombstone. He peeked over it, watching with wide eyes as skeletons made their merry way through the graveyard and picked up spirit versions of the offerings left to them. He dropped back down again.

Okay.

This was absolutely the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

He covered his face, pressing the heel of his hand against his mouth so he could let out a muffled scream. What was he supposed to do?! He didn’t even know how he’d ended up this way, so how could he—

He cried out in alarm as something wet slid along his cheek. He looked up in terror, only to see the little pélon dog back at his side, tail wagging and grinning as if everything were just fine. Héctor stared at him, then cautiously pat his head. His hand didn’t go through him.

“So you can still see me, pélon,” he said, voice shaking. “I…what do I do?”

He didn’t expect the dog to answer, of course. But, when the silly thing sat up straight and looked very pointedly off to the side before getting up…well, it wasn’t like Héctor had any better options but to follow him.

“Wait up, pélon!” he called as the dog broke into a run. He scrambled after him, barely keeping up, only to nearly trip over him for the third time that night as the dog came to a dead stop. “Stop doing that,” he said, though the words came out more panicked than frustrated. “Look, I need to find a way…to…”

He trailed off as he looked up in front of them. Instead of a forgotten corner of the graveyard, a huge bridge made of…leaves? Flowers? No, marigolds—stretched out in front of them. Skeletons were walking back and forth across it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Was…he supposed to cross? Was he dead? No, no, he couldn’t be dead. There must be a better way to…

He jumped as the dog broke out into a run, heading straight for the bridge.

“Pélon!” Without thinking, Héctor ran out onto the bridge, only stopping when he realized he was walking on flowers. He slowed, staring down in wonder at the petals holding him up. They…were petals, right? He leaned down to scoop up a handful of them, watching with wide eyes as they fell between his fingers. Despite everything—or, maybe because of it—he let out a little laugh, throwing up the remaining petals. He really was walking on flowers!

He found the dog rolling around contentedly up ahead. He barked back at Héctor, then jumped up and kept trotting along. He…seemed to know where he was going? More than Héctor did, at least, so it couldn’t hurt to follow him.

As he walked, he heard a family on his left gasp. Ah, right. He…stuck out. He pulled down the left side of his sombrero with a grimace. There, maybe…

“Santa Maria!” came a cry on his right.

With a huff, he pulled down both sides of his hat as he continued along the bridge. There had to be some skeleton over here that knew how to get him back to normal. Of course, that’s assuming that this flower bridge ever…ended…

His footsteps slowed as bright lights came over the horizon, then stopped and stared, open-mouthed at what laid ahead. At first glance, it looked like a city, but Héctor had never seen anything so…so beautiful. Lights as far as the eye could see! Every color imaginable! Fantastical animals of all sizes, shapes, and colors swooping through the air!

Well, if this is what happened after you die, maybe staying wouldn’t be so bad.

He shook his head. No, no. He wasn’t dead. He refused to believe that. And besides, even if he were, Ernesto would find a way to kill him beyond the grave for ditching him. Now if he could just…

“Ah! Perdóname,” he said as he walked into a skeleton. The skeleton turned, smiling, only to gasp as he saw Héctor’s face. That was…getting less surprising, actually, so he ignored it and peeked around the skeleton. Looked like a line of some kind, maybe a toll or something? Who’d’ve thought you’d have to wait in line after you died? Well, at the very least, he’d be able to talk to someone who knew what was going on.

“Anything to declare?” he heard the man behind the counter ask the family in front of him, to which they eagerly showed off their offerings. Huh. He watched them walk through after they were signed off, then took off his hat as he walked up to the window.

“Welcome back! Anything to…” The cheerful guard trailed off as he saw Héctor, who gave him a hopeful smile and a shrug.

“I…might have a few things to declare.”

The skeleton stared at him for several seconds. Then, with a shaking hand, he pulled out a radio.

“Vasquez? I-I’m going to need an escort to the Department of Family Reunions.”

“Well, looks like you’re cursed.”

“What?!”

The skeleton on the other side of the desk shrugged as she looked over a ledger. “Well, this isn’t exactly a common occurrence, so I’m only able to go off of previous reports. But generally, the living who wind up on this side of the bridge are cursed, usually by disrespecting the dead.” She raised her browridge as she looked up at Héctor. “Did you happen to disrespect the dead?”

“No!”

“You didn’t desecrate any graves?”

“Dios mio, you think I’m a monster?”

“Didn’t steal any offerings?”

“I…” He trailed off, grimacing, then looked back at the skeleton. “Well, I-I asked permission!”

“Hmm?”

Héctor squirmed a bit in his seat. “Well, I did for the guitar. And it was just the tiniest bit of chicharrón for Pélon over here.” He gestured down to the dog, still by his side and contentedly gnawing on his own leg. Héctor shook his head. “Look, I’ll go and apologize to whoever that guitar belongs to. Then I can go back, right?”

“It doesn’t work like that, señor.”

“What.”

The skeleton pulled out another ledger, flipping through it with a sigh. “When the living get involved with the dead, it takes a tie between our worlds to send them back.” Héctor stared blankly at her, and she rolled her eyes. “Familia. You need a family member to give you their blessing to go home.” She peered at Héctor curiously. “And you need it soon. As in, tonight soon.”

“Why?”

The skeleton nodded down at Héctor’s hand. He frowned, then glanced down and gasped. His pointer finger, as well as the tips of his thumb and middle finger, was turning skeletal. He stared in horror as he twitched it, bones moving as easily as the skeleton’s in front of him.

“Wh-why…”

“Living people aren’t meant to be here. If you don’t get uncursed by sunrise, you’re stuck here. And…how old are you, señor?”

“Seventeen?”

“Ah. Yes, and if that’s the case, then you’re probably going to be charged with disturbing the peace, defacing of property, and theft.”

“What?!”

“Well, you are old enough to…” The skeleton’s sockets widened as Héctor jumped up to his feet and leaned over the desk.

“You’re telling me that I’m going to die and THEN go to jail for picking up some chicharrón?!”

The skeleton gave a thin smile. “Well, not if I can help it.” She got to her feet. “The Department of Family Reunions is specially equipped for situations like this. Now, what was your name again?”

“Héctor Rivera.”

“Rivera, Rivera…here we go! Now, who do you leave on your ofrenda?”

“I…” Héctor grimaced. “I don’t leave anyone on the ofrenda.”

The skeleton’s eyes widened. “What?!” Héctor shrugged helplessly. The skeleton huffed. “All right, then maybe we could go by names.” As Héctor looked away, the skeleton stared at him. “You don’t know anyone’s name?”

“Hey, if you know an orphanage that keeps family trees for the kids dropped there, I’d be glad to hear it,” Héctor shot back.

The skeleton pressed a hand to her skull, muttering what sounded like a prayer to herself. After a moment, she looked Héctor dead in the eyes as she reached to the filing cabinet and opened up three extremely full drawers.

“You see these? These are all the deceased with the last name Rivera. And, since you haven’t kept track of your ancestors, we’re going to have to go through every one.”

Héctor gaped. “But…but I only have until sunrise!”

“Then we’re going to have to start now.”

Héctor swallowed as she took out a stack of folders. There was no way they’d get through all of these in one night. He looked up at the skeleton, then took a breath before putting on his most charming smile as he leaned forward.

“Look,” he said, lowering his voice. “I don’t like mentioning this, but I’m actually a very famous mariachi. So…if there’s anyway we could speed up this process, my fans would really like—”

He trailed off as there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” the agent said, then groaned as the door opened. An officer stepped inside, holding onto the arm of a very small skeleton. “Again, Miguel?”

The skeleton boy gave an embarrassed grin. “Hola, Señora Estevez.”

“He tried to slip past us at the gate again.”

“I figured.” The agent pressed her hand to her skull again. “Look, I’m dealing with this very famous living mariachi—” Héctor frowned at the way she said that, though he glanced back as he heard the boy suck in a gasp. His eyes were wide and starry as he stared, and Héctor gave him an awkward little wave back. “—and have to focus on getting him home.” She sighed and added, “Just…keep him here at the station. And keep an eye on him; he’s slippery.”

The officer nodded, then guided the boy out. Héctor watched them leave, only to jump as the agent dropped another stack of files on her desk.

“I’m sure you’ve heard that death is the great equalizer, Señor Rivera,” she said dryly. “So, no matter how famous you are, you still have to follow our rules. It’s time to get reading.”

This was hopeless.

They’d been reading through files for nearly an hour now, and they weren’t even halfway through the first cabinet of Riveras. Héctor pushed away the file, then looked down at his hands. All of his fingers were skeletal now, and the skin of his palms were just starting to disappear. This was taking too long. He huffed, then pushed himself up to his feet and headed to the door.

“Señor Rivera? Where are you going?” Agent Estevez asked. He quickly turned and gave her a weary smile.

“Con permiso, I just need to clear my head. I’ll be right back,” he said. She frowned back at him.

“Be sure not to leave the building, señor,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously. He rolled his eyes.

“Where would I even go?” he muttered as he exited the door. The dog followed close to him, then caught what was apparently a very nice scent and wandered the opposite direction. He groaned. “Pélon. I could really do without you wandering…” He trailed off as he caught up to the dog, peeking in as he heard two familiar voices through the cracked-open door. Curious, he peeked inside as well.

“All right, paperwork’s done.” The officer stamped a stack of papers, then sighed as he looked up at the skeleton boy sitting across from him. “Miguel, you need to stop running off like that. There’s a reason you’re at the home.”

The boy—Miguel, apparently—gave a huff and a shrug.

“It’s not so bad there,” the officer tried again.

“Except that I have family. You just won’t help me,” Miguel muttered, sinking down in his seat.

“Look, if we ever get—I don’t know—face scanners that can tell you who your family is, you’ll be the first to know. But the information you have is too little for us to worth with. It’s safer for you to stay there.”

Miguel rolled his eyes, huffing as he propped his chin in his hand. He looked up, and his eyes widened as he saw Héctor. Héctor froze up, and for a moment they merely stared at each other.

“Well, one of the sisters will be here in a little bit to pick you up, so just wait here for a little while longer, okay, niño?”

“Uh…” Miguel finally broke his gaze from Héctor, glancing down. Héctor looked down as well, sucking in a breath as Pélon started to nudge his head inside with a big, dopey grin. He grit his teeth as he tried to pull the dog away from the door.

“What is all that—?” the officer started to ask, but looked up in alarm Miguel suddenly threw himself into a coughing fit. “Ay, niño, you okay?”

“F-fine…” Miguel peeked up, giving a little nod to tell Héctor to go. Huh, nice kid. With a bit of effort, he managed to drag the dog away from the door and make his way down the hall.

Now, back to the problem at hand (He grimaced at the accidental pun as he looked down at his skeletal fingers.) At the rate they were going, they wouldn’t even be halfway through all the files by the time sunrise came. And that? That wasn’t good. There had to be another way to break this stupid cu—

“Are you really a famous mariachi?”

Héctor jumped at the question, whirling around to see Miguel standing right behind him. He blinked a few times, then smiled.

“Of course I am. Part of the amazing duo Ernesto y Héctor.” He held out his hand to shake. “I’m the Héctor half.”

Miguel’s starry expression dimmed a bit, and he frowned slightly. “I haven’t heard of you.”

“We’re a big deal in the living world. Hundreds of shows a year, tons of fans. But, you know, we’re…we’re just starting out. From what I understand, it’ll take a little while for us to catch on over here.”

Miguel nodded, then glanced over his shoulder for the guard before he looked up at Héctor with a smile. “Then I think we can help each other,” he whispered.

“Wha—” Héctor was cut off as Miguel quickly pulled him into a phone booth, shutting the door tightly before fixing his eyes on Héctor’s.

“They’re not going to be able to help you out there,” he said, nodding toward the door. “I’ve tried for years to find my family, and I’m still sent off to the home every time. It’s all paperwork this and filing that.” Miguel pulled a face, then smiled up at Héctor. “What you need is to actually meet people. And I know a lot of people. At least one of them should know you!”

Héctor sent him a frown. “Seems like a long shot, kid.”

Miguel matched his frown, then nodded at Héctor’s hands. “You got any better ideas?”

Héctor grimaced, then let out a long sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. On one hand, he was as good as dead if he stayed here. On the other…how much safer was trusting some random kid who might know where some of his family was?

Well…anything was better than sitting around and watching himself become a skeleton.

“Mmmokay. But I’ve got a really tight deadline, chamaco, so…”

“I can work with that!” Miguel shot him a bright smile, then stood up on his tiptoes to peek out the booth’s window. “Getting out’s gonna be hard, but I’ve managed to sneak out with worse. Okay…vámonos!”

Miguel grabbed Héctor’s arm and pushed the door open, tugging him out as a large group of skeletons walked past. The dog, who’d been stuck outside the booth whining at them, ran after them, nearly tripping over himself with excitement. Héctor shushed him as they kept close to the group, which only prompted him to bark. The officer that had been holding Miguel bolted around the corner at the noise, and he gasped.

“Miguel!” Miguel and Héctor turned, wide-eyed, as they heard him. “El Vivo?!”

Both gave the officer an awkward smile, then Miguel tugged Héctor after him with a whispered, “Run!”

Héctor did not need to be told twice, and soon enough they were running through the crowded department, dodging families and ducking around officers before they could notice who they were.

“Was this your plan?” Héctor asked as they rounded a corner and bolted to the door.

“I didn’t have a plan!”

“You said you’ve sneaked out with worse!”

“Well, yeah, when I haven’t had a tall living guy with me!” Miguel tugged Héctor out the door, the dog just barely managing to squeeze out with them. “Here, they’ll lose us in the crowd!”

They dove into a large group of revelers, sticking close to them. Héctor ducked down a bit, glancing back toward the station and grimacing as a whole group of officers poured out. He tugged his sombrero tighter over his head as they made their way deeper into the plaza. “Not to put any pressure on you, chamaco, but now would be a really good time to have some sort of plan.” He looked up just in time to see Miguel pick a marigold from a nearby planter. “Something besides picking flowers would be good.”

“Relax. I have…well, I have the first part of a plan.” Miguel tucked the marigold into his pocket, then turned back to look at him with a smile. “We need to take care of that whole being alive thing.”

“You’re really sure you can’t do anything about your ears?”

“I don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve had ears, but they’re not something you can just make invisible.”

“Especially not yours.”

“Hey.”

“Pff, sorry.” Miguel finished painting a grin on Héctor’s face, then squinted at him appraisingly. “I think you’re good. I mean, your nose is still pretty big, and there’s the whole ear thing, but if no one gets close...”

They’d found a secluded alleyway to hide out in for the moment, and Miguel, armed with two tins of shoe polish (“The only way the nuns let me out on Dia de Muertos is if they think I’m working.”), had gone to town making Héctor’s face as skeletal as his hands. He tossed the tins aside, and Héctor did his best to hide his ears with his hair as the dog started sniffing at the tins.

“Hey, Pélon, don’t…” Too late. He was already licking at the tin, only to whine and shake his head once he tasted the shoe polish. Miguel laughed, giving the dog’s head a sympathetic rub.

“Your alebrije’s kinda dumb,” he said, laughing again as the dog started licking his face.

“You think Pélon here’s an alebrije? Seriously?”

Miguel wrapped his arms around the dog’s neck. “I mean, he followed you here, right? That sounds like a spirit animal.”

Héctor shook his head and pulled his sombrero on to keep his hair down. “I think it takes him a while to catch on to things. He’ll probably figure out that he wound up here tomorrow.” He smiled at Miguel’s snort, then leaned forward and looked at the boy seriously. “All right, so…you’re gonna help me out with this whole family thing?”

“Yep.” Miguel smiled as he pulled out the crumpled marigold in his pocket. “A blessing on one of these, and you’re back home.”

“Bueno.” Héctor pressed his lips together, arching an eyebrow. “So what’s in it for you?”

“You’re gonna do the same for me.”

Héctor blinked, and he laughed before he could stop himself. “You’re funny, chamaco. But seriously, what do you want from me?”

Miguel puffed out a breath. “I am serious.” At Héctor’s doubtful look, he sighed. “The whole thing with this place is that it runs on memories. The memories of the living are what keep us from fading, and it’s what brings us back home on Día de Muertos. Photos on the ofrenda are what lets us go back over the Marigold Bridge.” He let go of the dog to stick his hands the pockets of his faded red coat. “But it works the opposite way, too. The memories from your life are what they use to get you in the system. If you don’t have that…” He shrugged. “Well, if you’re a kid, you wind up in a home.”

Héctor’s brows drew together. “You don’t remember your life?”

Miguel shook his head. “The last thing I remember is waking up here. And when I tried to cross the first time, they told me I didn’t have a photo on an ofrenda. So I have nothing to go on. Well, except for this…” From his pocket, he pulled out an old, worn photo and held it up. Héctor took it and looked over it curiously. It looked like a class photo, with a row of ten boys lined in front of the school house. Miguel tapped on a boy off to the left, one cheek dimpling with a stifled smile.

“That’s me. See? My hair’s the same, and I have a freckle where I have this mark,” he said, tapping the swirled green circle on his upper jaw, then looked up at Héctor with bright eyes. “And since you’re famous, you can bring this back and get the word out! And then next year I can find my family on Día de Muertos!”

Héctor swallowed. Oh. That was…a heavy order. How many people had he and Ernesto played for in the past year? A hundred, maybe two? Definitely not famous enough for Miguel’s plan. He looked down at the photo again, then took a breath.

“Look, Miguel, I’m not really…” He looked up at Miguel. The boy’s eyes were bright as he looked back at Héctor, every hope of getting back to his family clear on his skull. Héctor pressed his lips together, then carefully folded the photo and tucked it into the pocket of his charro jacket. “I’m not…really sure how this whole ofrenda thing works.” He put on a smile as he leaned forward. “But by the time the next Día de Muertos comes around, all of México will know that a kid named Miguel needs to find his family.”

“Qué excelente!” Miguel jumped up to his feet with a grin. “Okay, but we’ve gotta move. You don’t have too long before sunrise, and we’ve got a lot of people to talk to.”

For a kid, Miguel had quite a lot of friends in odd places. Granted, he’d apparently been dead for a while (“Twenty…twenty-five years? I think? No, this is my twenty-third Día de Muertos.”), and Héctor had to admit, the kid was charming as anything. They wound their way through what felt like a dozen separate neighborhoods, each with at least one friend of Miguel’s hanging around.

“This is my friend, Héctor. He doesn’t remember his family either, but he’s a really famous mariachi! Do you remember him?” was asked over and over, but with no results aside from an increasing discomfort whenever Miguel called him famous. (At one point, Miguel suggested that Pélon could probably sniff out Héctor’s family. They spent a few minutes following him, only to have to pull him away from a pan dulce cart. That idea was scrapped pretty quickly.)

Eventually, they found their way to a huge plaza. Héctor’s eyes widened as he saw what had to have been thousands of people surrounding the stage at the far end, cheering at a very enthusiastic banda group. He let out a quick breath, glancing down at his hands. Fully skeletal now, with his wrist bones just showing beneath his sleeves.

He took a deep breath—he wasn’t panicked, but it was still worrying to be losing so much skin so fast—and set his hand on Miguel’s shoulder before he launched into the square. “This isn’t working,” he said bluntly. “There’s no way we can talk to every single person here before sunrise.”

“I-I bet if we move really fast, we could…” At Héctor’s disbelieving look, Miguel sighed. “I know,” he admitted. “But it’s not like we can ask everyone at once!”

Héctor pressed his lips together, then glanced toward the stage. A smile twitched at his lips.

“Actually, I think we can.” He looked down at Miguel, giving him a grin. “Just follow my lead, Miguelito, and we’ll both be on our way back home.”

“And it’s mi hermanito’s very first time performing. And we just need the guitar for one song, that’s all!” Héctor gave the skeletal duo he’d approached a hopeful smile; over his shoulder, Miguel copied it.

“Por favor?” he added. “It won’t be as good as seeing our parents, but it’d really make our night.”

The duo glanced at each other, then sighed. After a moment, one of them held up his guitar.

“Be careful with it, muchachos,” he said gruffly. Héctor and Miguel exchanged a grin.

“Por supuesto!” Héctor set Miguel down to take the guitar. “We’ll be back with it as soon as we’re done! Gracias, señores!” He nodded for Miguel to follow him, moving a little quicker as he heard one of the duo say, “Didn’t it look like that guy had a nose?”

Miguel looked up at Héctor excitedly as they walked to a secluded corner of the backstage area. “So are you going to play your most famous song?” he asked, pulling himself up to sit on a box as Héctor tuned the guitar. “They’ll definitely know who you are if you do that!”

Héctor just held back a grimace as that sick feeling returned. “Look, chamaco, don’t…don’t be disappointed if we’re not swarmed by fans, okay? I don’t think Ernesto y Héctor…” He froze suddenly, eyes wide. Oh. He didn’t have Ernesto here with him. Dios, when was the last time he performed by himself? Had he ever? He could play, sure, but his best performances came from the way he played off someone else.

“What about Ernesto y Héctor?”

Héctor looked up as Miguel’s question broke through his thoughts, and a wide smile started to spread across his face as a brilliant idea hit him. “I don’t think Ernesto y Héctor will mean much to the people here; I told you we haven’t caught on down here. Miguel y Héctor, though, that’s different.” His grin widened at the shocked look on Miguel’s face as he took off his sombrero. “After all, I did say it was mi hermanito’s very first time performing,” he added as he set the hat on Miguel’s head.

“What?!” Miguel pushed the hat up to look at Héctor with panicked eyes. Oh. That was…not the reaction he was expecting. “Bu-but I’ve never performed! I don’t even know any songs!”

Héctor sent him a disbelieving look. “I know for a fact that there are hundreds of dead revolucionarios out there in that plaza alone. You had to have heard at least a corrido or two.” His eyes widened as Miguel shrugged. “You haven’t?”

“We’re only allowed to sing hymns at the home!”

“No one’s going to listen if we play a hymn!” Héctor sucked in a breath and shook his head, then looked up at Miguel. He let out the breath he’d been holding and leaned forward. “Think back, chamaco. Are there any songs you can remember?”

Miguel’s browbone furrowed, and his skull screwed up slightly as he thought. He opened his eyes after a moment, expression soft. “There’s…one I can remember.”

Héctor grinned. “Allà vamos, Miguelito! If you can sing it for me, I can figure out—”

“No!”

Héctor blinked. “No?”

Miguel drew into himself slightly as he looked down at his knees. “That one’s special. I…it doesn’t feel right to perform it.”

Héctor looked at the boy for a moment. Well…he could understand that. He certainly had some songs that were too special to perform, even if Ernesto insisted otherwise. He let out a breath, then reached to his inside pocket. There was Miguel’s photo, and just behind it…there. He puffed out a breath as he opened up the notebook. He was still bored with what he’d written, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He grimaced a bit; most had been written for two guitars, but there had to be one…aha!

“All right, chamaco, it’s time for your first experience as a real músico.” He sat down beside Miguel on the box, holding up the notebook. “Which means we’re gonna learn this song in ten minutes or less.”

Miguel looked up at Héctor with wide eyes, then took a deep breath and put on his most determined face as he nodded. “Okay.”

Héctor had prepared for the worst, but Miguel was a surprisingly quick study. His timing was spot-on, and he carried a tune far better than Héctor could. This could actually work. And it was…fun? By their second time running through the song, Miguel was relaxed and already playing off of Héctor like they’d known each other forever. This was going to be perfect.

Until the stagehand told them that they were up next, and Miguel completely froze up.

“Hey, Miguelito?” Héctor set a hand on Miguel’s shoulder, prompting a gasp from him before he quickly shook his head.

“I can’t…I…”

Héctor’s eyes widened, and he swallowed hard. Okay. Two options here: He could go out alone and hope he did well enough to garner some attention (but not enough for people to realize he wasn’t actually dead).

Or…he could help Miguel out.

“Don’t talk like that, chamaco, you’re a natural. All you need to do is loosen up.” Héctor grinned at Miguel as he shook out his long limbs. He gave the boy a nod; Miguel gave him a dubious look before shaking out his own limbs with a rattle. “There we go! Now, give me your best grito.”

“My best grito?”

“You know, a shout. You’re what, twelve? You definitely know how to yell.” Miguel gave him a shrug. “It’s just like this!” Héctor wasted no time in letting out a whoop that turned several skulls toward them. He ignored them, grinning at Miguel. “Now you!”

Miguel stared at him, but sucked in a breath and let out…the most pathetic noise Héctor had ever heard. He grimaced.

“Uh, try again, chamaco.”

Miguel took another breath and let out an equally strangled noise. Héctor stared, then gave him a thumbs up. Ave María Purísma, at least the kid was cute.

As if he could hear that thought, Miguel looked even less-reassured than he had pre-grito. Héctor grimaced again, then snapped to get Miguel’s attention. “Hey, Miguel, look at me.” When he did, he gave him a smile. “It’s gonna be fine up there, okay? We’ll just have some fun like we did a few minutes ago.”

“But your blessing…”

“Doesn’t matter. Not right now. Right now, we’re músicos, and we’re gonna make sure that every skeleton out there knows that.” He gave him a grin and another thumbs up. “Suena bien?”

Miguel looked up at him, then took a breath and nodded. Héctor put a hand on his bony shoulder and led them up onto the stage as the emcee called, “And now, Miguel y Héctor!”

Héctor gave the crowd his biggest grin, then glanced down at Miguel, who looked shell-shocked. The kid still had stage-fright. What did he do? Ernesto would turn on that de la Cruz charm and hide the boy—that’d happened their very first show, after all—but…well, that wasn’t Héctor’s forte. So really, there was only one option.

Miguel turned in alarm at the loud grito that Héctor let out, but he smiled a bit at his little nod. He took the deepest breath he could, then let out a grito that was just as loud, bouncing off the buildings surrounding the plaza and sending a surprised murmur through the crowd. Héctor took that as his cue to start playing, fingers dancing quickly over the frets, and he looked up with a bright smile as Miguel jumped in like he hadn’t been scared stiff a moment ago.

“Señoras y señores, buenas tardes, buenas noches

Buenas tardes, buenas noches, señoritas y señores…”

Miguel carried the song exceptionally well, dancing around Héctor with a bright grin as he sang. Héctor played back, harmonizing where he could and matching the kid’s energy as he played the hardest he had in a while. Ay, it’d been so long since performing had been a joy instead of a chore; when was the last time he and Ernesto danced around the stage like this?

All too soon, the song came to an end with a prolonged rift from Héctor and one last grito from Miguel, and they both looked out with wide eyes as the crowd went wild. Héctor was the first to break from the spell, and he gave Miguel a wide grin as he ruffled his hair.

“What’d I tell you, chamaco? You’re a real músico now.”

Miguel blinked, then sent him a big grin back. He blinked, then whispered, “Let them know who you are.”

Ah, right. Héctor nodded, then turned back to the crowd and called out, “Gracias, damas y caballeros! We’re Miguel y Héctor, Santa Cecilia’s two favorite sons!”

There was another cheer from the crowd, but Héctor caught a strange look on Miguel’s face.

“Santa Cecilia?” he asked slowly, eyes focused on something very far away. Héctor half-smiled.

“Sorry to drag you into my hometown, but it was easier than…”

“No. I-I’ve heard of it. I just…” He looked up in alarm as the emcee ran onstage.

“Damas y caballeros, we’ve got an emergency alert. Be on the lookout for a living man…”

And that was their cue to leave. Before the emcee could give so much as a description, Héctor grabbed Miguel’s arm and bolted off the stage quick enough for his sombrero to fly off the boy’s head. The dog, who’d been howling off-stage, eagerly ran after them.

“Wait, your hat—”

“They can keep it!”

“Well, you can’t lead! You don’t know where we—” Miguel gasped. Héctor glanced back at him, then looked up. Several alebrijes flew overhead—but then, they’d been doing that all night. Miguel picked up his pace, jumping ahead of Héctor and dragging him behind. “Come on!”

“What? They’re just spirit animals, right?”

“Yeah, but those ones…” Miguel pointed up at the ones above them, which seemed to be very focused on them. “…belong to officers!”

As if on cue, a massive alebrije that seemed to be a mix of an eagle and a lizard swooped down toward them. Both Miguel and Héctor let out a cry of fright, picking up their pace and sprinting ahead.

“This way!” Miguel threw himself forward, bringing Héctor down with him into into a dry canal. They tumbled down the side, the dog rolling down with them, and Miguel just barely dragged Héctor up to pull him beneath a bridge. They huddled together beneath it, both breathing hard as they waited for the alebrije to give up. The beak just peaked below the top, clicking curiously. A large claw reached under; Héctor automatically threw his arm in front of Miguel as they took a step back. But they were too deep underneath. The alebrije let out a frustrated shriek, and, after a few terrifying moments, they finally heard the heavy flap of wings. Héctor lowered his arm, heart still pounding in his chest as he shook slightly.

“Is that…normal?”

Miguel let out a breath; he didn’t look quite as frightened as Héctor, but still shaken. “They use them as trackers, sometimes. Normally they’re not that big.” He let out a long breath. “They won’t hurt you.”

“You didn’t think of saying that first?!”

“I was focused on not getting dragged back to the station!” Miguel argued back.

They both huffed and turned away from each other; Héctor’s heart was still hammering. Well. Being angry wouldn’t solve anything. He let out a shaking breath, then turned back to Miguel.

“You said you knew Santa Cecilia?”

Miguel glanced back at him, then pressed his lips together. “I…I think someone I know lived there.”

Héctor’s eyes widened, and he walked up to Miguel with a hopeful smile. “Really? Can we go see them?” His brows creased as Miguel’s expression darkened. “What?”

Miguel looked away, then took a deep breath. “You swear you’ll find my family when you get home?”

“Of course, chamaco. I’ll start spreading the word the minute I get back.”

Miguel swallowed hard, then nodded. “Okay. Follow me.”

“Can you go any faster?”

“Listen, chamaco, it’s gonna be really hard to get back to the Land of the Living if I die of a broken neck.” Héctor wavered a bit as he made his way down to the next ledge of the bridge. “Besides, I’ve got my second stolen guitar of the night on my back. That’s a big burden to carry.”

Miguel had led the way through a winding maze of side streets and semi-climbable ledges. Half the time, he let himself fall down a decent way just to gather his bones back easy as anything. Héctor…did not have that luxury, which left him picking his way down some very steep wall reliefs. There was an easier way, Miguel explained on the way, but that’d be crawling with officers and alebrijes looking for a living man and a dead boy. This was the way he took when he wanted to be sneaky.

It took all off two seconds after Miguel announced they had arrived for Héctor to realize what he was looking at. The stark building with a crucifix on the outside told him exactly where they were.

“So this is the orphanage you stay at,” he said bluntly, looking it over. Miguel shrugged.

“I mean, we’re not really orphans. Most of us have parents, they’re just still alive. Or…we can’t remember them. And it’s…” Miguel trailed off as Héctor shook his head.

“Is it run by nuns?”

“Well, yeah…”

“And is it full of kids that no one knows what to do with?”

“Yes…”

“Then that’s an orphanage. Believe me, I have experience with that.” Héctor took a breath, adjusting the guitar strap on his shoulder. “So who in here’s from Santa Cecilia?”

Miguel was suddenly very preoccupied with patting Pélon’s head. Finally, he sucked in a breath. “Sister Maria Rafaela,” he whispered.

Héctor could feel the blood drain from his face. Oh, no. “S-Sister Maria Rafaela?”

Miguel’s eyes widened. “You know her?”

Héctor automatically rubbed his bony knuckles with a grimace. “You don’t forget being on the end of her punishments.”

Miguel huffed. “Well, maybe if I’m with you, she won’t…”

“Miguel!”

They both looked up, and a skeletal nun marched straight toward them. Miguel started to give a smile and a little wave.

“Hola, Sis—” He yelped as she grabbed his arm tightly, pulling him away before Héctor could stop her and disregarding the dog’s growls.

“Every year you do this,” she scolded harshly, grip tight enough that Miguel couldn’t wriggle out of it. “And you would think that punishment would be enough to stop you, but you’re a stubborn little…”

A memory of belts cracking against skin flashed in Héctor’s head, and he quickly stepped forward. “It’s my fault he’s out this year, Sister. I-I just arrived and I wanted to spend the night with my tío.”

Sister Maria Rafaela looked up and frowned at him. “And who are…” She trailed off as she looked over him; Héctor made sure to keep his face directly facing her as he gave her an awkward smile. “Héctor?!”

“Hola, Sister. You know, you still look great.”

Miguel forgotten, Sister Maria Rafaela took a step toward Héctor, who shuffled back. “I knew you’d get yourself into this sort of trouble,” she hissed. “Is your friend here, too?”

“Oh, no, Ernesto’s…he’s fine. But, ah, listen, Sister, while I’m here…” As Sister Maria Rafaela kept trying to inspect him more closely, Héctor kept skittering away. “…my Tío Miguel brought up the best idea…” He stepped beside Miguel, resting a hand on the boy’s head as they both leaned away. “…and we thought you might know where my family ended up.”

Sister Maria Rafaela frowned hard at him, then started to reach for Miguel again. Without thinking, Héctor hoisted him up onto his shoulders, out of the nun’s grasp. She huffed.

“Ungrateful schemers, the both of you,” she said sharply. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but I’m having no part of it.”

Héctor swallowed. “Sister, please. If you have any idea where…”

“And how am I supposed to know that?” she asked sharply. “We take care of the children left to us. There are no questions asked!”

“But Santa Cecilia was so small, you had to—”

“I don’t know, Héctor,” she said crisply. “Now, give that child back or…” She trailed off, suddenly, eyes fixed on Héctor’s cheek. She took a quick breath, then let it out. “I need to make a call,” she said simply, then turned and went back inside.

Both Miguel and Héctor blinked at her sudden shift, and Héctor glanced up at Miguel before bringing him down from his shoulders. “Probably too optimistic to think she’s remembered a long-lost relative of mine?”

“Definitely too opt—” Miguel looked up and gasped, eyes locked right on the same spot Sister Maria Rafaela had been looking. Héctor’s brow creased.

“What? Are we too late?” he asked, automatically reaching up to touch his cheek. He froze as he felt warm skin instead of shoe polish. But he’d been so careful! How had he…His eyes widened as he caught the long streak of white on Miguel’s knee. Oh. When he’d put Miguel on his shoulders…

“We need to go.” Miguel’s voice was barely a whisper. “Maybe we can smooth it out? O-or I can try and get more polish and—” He was cut off by Héctor yelping when a bony finger and thumb pinched his ear hard.

“This is a low I never expected from you,” she hissed at him. “Dragging a poor little boy along in your schemes. You dese—Ay!”

Héctor’s ear was released, and he just caught Miguel slamming his foot down on Sister Maria Rafaela’s foot.

“He’s not dragging me along, he’s helping me find my family!” he shouted, then looked up at Héctor. “Come on! If we run, we can still…”

KA-CRAWWW!

Both Miguel and Héctor scrambled back at the cry, once again face to face with the alebrije from earlier. Its beak clicked menacingly at them. Héctor glanced up at the bird, then down at Miguel. He sucked in a breath, then pushed Miguel away from him before letting out a loud grito.

The alebrije’s head shot over to him, slitted pupils widening, and he bolted in the opposite direction. Well, by this point, he was going to die anyway. Might as well let Miguel get away while he could. He was keeping away fairly well, and then…

Pélon tripped him.

Héctor tripped and skidded, but before he could pick himself up, strong talons wrapped around his arm. The alebrije gave a triumphant caw before starting to flap away. As if realizing that he’d done wrong, the dog whined before jumping into action. He grabbed a hold of Héctor’s sleeve and tried to tug him back, unaware that he was being lifted up as well. But he was too heavy for the stitching, and before Héctor could grab for him, the sleeves completely ripped off, revealing one fully-skeletal arm and sending Pélon back to the ground, barking worriedly the whole way.

Héctor tried his best to twist around. Where was Miguel? Had he managed to get away? He caught sight of the red coat, weaving quickly through the abandoned streets below. That was good. The kid would be safe. He’d manage to—

Héctor’s stomach flipped as the alebrije swooped down, and he cried out as its other claw wrapped around Miguel’s arm. The boy struggled, but it was no use; the alebrije held fast. Miguel went limp, looking up at Héctor with wide eyes as the alebrije swooped and dove its way back to the station. This was it. The sun would be rising soon, and they’d be locked away in the last place they wanted to be. Héctor went limp as well, though he frowned as he caught sight of a dark opening beneath them, with something glinting at the bottom. Was that…water? If it was…

He looked up at Miguel. “I have a really terrible idea!” he shouted.

“What?”

Instead of answering, Héctor sucked in a breath and threw his legs back. His arm twisted painfully, but with a bit of effort, he managed to swing his lower body up enough to slam one of his feet into the alebrije’s soft belly.

It gave a shriek before automatically dropping the two. Both screamed as they plummeted down. Despite it being Héctor’s idea, he shut his eyes and braced himself. If he was wrong about that pit…well, he was already dying, but this way would be a lot more painful.

The air was knocked out of him the moment he hit the water, bubbling out of his mouth as he tumbled below. He hit the silt below, completely convinced the fall killed him. It was only when he gasped in a lungful of air once he resurfaced that he figured he must not be dead just yet. He coughed several times, then looked around.

“Hey, chamaco?” he called hoarsely as he paddled to shore. “Miguel!”

“Héctor?” As Héctor stepped onto the shore, he nearly topped back into the water as Miguel threw his arms around him, bones rattling. He looked down with wide eyes as the boy sniffled.

“I’m sorry,” Miguel mumbled against his chest. “I thought it could work. I thought we’d both get home.”

Héctor let out a breath, setting a hand on Miguel’s head. “Hey, hey, it’s all right, chamaco.”

“No, it’s not!” Miguel pushed himself back, brown eyes sharp as he looked up at Héctor. “It’s my fault that you can’t go back to your fans and that I won’t ever see Mamá Coco again and—"

“Who?”

“Mamá Coco.” Miguel looked away. “She’s…she’s all I remember from before I died. We’d sing together.”

Héctor’s face softened as he put two and two together. “So the song you didn’t want to sing…?”

Miguel nodded, his palm quickly scraping against his cheekbone. “It was ours.” He took a quick breath as he sat down at the edge of the water. “I do-don’t even know if she’s alive or dead. But…but if I could just find her, somewhere, I-I know I’d be home.”

Héctor looked down at Miguel for a long moment, aware, suddenly, of the second stolen guitar still strapped to his back. He pulled it off quietly, then—after making sure it was in one piece—he sank down beside Miguel.

“Can you play?”

Miguel peeked up. “What?”

“Can you play? I didn’t ask earlier.”

Miguel swallowed. “Just a little bit.”

“That’s all you need.” He held out the guitar. “A bit of music helps bad situations feel a little better. That’s what I’ve learned, at least.”

Miguel looked down at the guitar, then up at Héctor. Very carefully, he took the guitar and flipped it around, strumming experimentally at the strings. After a few moments, the strumming settled into a simple tune, with a very soft voice accompanying it.

“Remember me

Though I have to say goodbye

Remember me

Don’t let it make you cry

For even if I’m far away

I hold you in my heart

I sing a secret song to you

each night we are apart

Remember me

Though I have to travel far

Remember me

Each time you hear a sad guitar

Know that I’m with you

The only way that I can be

Until you’re in my arms again

Remember me…”

Héctor listened raptly as Miguel sang, the quiet tune seeming to fill the whole cenote. His heart lurched, and he tucked his chin against his knees. This poor kid. All he wanted was to get home, and Héctor had him running on a wild goose chase because he hadn’t thought to tell the truth. He looked up as he felt a small weight lean against his side.

“I’m sorry, Héctor,” Miguel said quietly. “Your fans will pro—”

“I’m not famous, Miguel.”

“What?”

Héctor shut his eyes and let out a breath. “When I said I was famous? That was…it was a lie. I’m just…” His newly-bony shoulders sagged. “I’m just a nobody from Santa Cecilia. That’s it. I’m sorry.”

He glanced down at Miguel, who stared back at him.

“So…when you said you’d find my family…”

“That I meant,” he said firmly. “I…I don’t know how successful I would’ve been. But I would’ve told everyone I met about a great músico named Miguel who needed to find his family.” He rubbed his cheek awkwardly, feeling the barest resistance before bone scraped against bone. Almost sunrise then. He sighed. “Well, when I get out from a century in jail, I’ll spring you from the orphanage.”

“Really?”

“Por supuesto.” He managed a small laugh. “I may be a lying, sorry excuse of a mariachi, but Héctor Rivera never lets kids…” He trailed off at the strange look that crossed Miguel’s face. “What?”

“Rivera…? That’s…my last name,” Miguel said slowly. Héctor blinked.

“You don’t think…no, it can’t. You know how many Riveras there are here?”

“You know how many Miguel Riveras there are?” Miguel asked, then shook his head. “It’s probably a coincidence.”

Héctor nodded. “Has to be, chamaco.” He stood up. “Morning’s almost here, and we’ve got to find our way out of this pit.” He stood up straight, then let out a loud grito that bounced off the walls of the pit. “Someone should’ve heard that. Hey, chamaco, maybe if we both…” He turned to look at Miguel, who pulled something from his pocket. Héctor tilted his head, then smiled a bit at the soggy marigold in his hands.

“Look, Miguelito, that’s a sweet thought, but there’s no way…”

“Héctor.” Miguel said his name curiously, and both their eyes widened as the petals lit up. Héctor took a step back.

“Miguel, I…I can’t leave you here. Besides…” He looked up as he heard a howl. “Ah! Pélon found us!” He grinned as he saw the dog’s goofy face, then automatically froze up as he heard a deafening KA-CRAAAWW!! “And…he has friends.”

“Then we have to move fast!” Miguel put on a determined face as he held up one of the marigold petals. “Héctor, I give you my blessing to go home.” The marigold petal glowed bright as anything, and Héctor’s heartbeat—which he could feel fading away like the rest of his skin—pounded in his ribs.

“Chamaco, I don’t want you to be alone again. Just let me—”

Miguel cut him off with a small smile. “Just remember me, Héctor.” Before Héctor could protest, the petal was pressed against his chest, and he was swept away in a waterfall of glowing orange flowers.

Héctor was sure he was dead.

There was no other way to account for how awful he felt, facedown in the dirt of the graveyard, as the sun rose slowly in the east. It took a few moments for him to push himself up, too tired and aching to even think about the fact he was missing a sleeve from his charro suit. He blinked for a few moments, then sat up straight. Had he made it in time? Had Miguel been too late? He quickly patted himself down, then let out a loud laugh of joy as he saw normal, non-skeletal hands. He was safe! He was back home!

And Miguel…was not. And he wouldn’t be until his family could find him.

“Just remember me.”

Well, the answer of what he should do next was pretty obvious.

The beautiful, awful white guitar was still laid out on the grave in front of him. He hesitated, then glanced up at the tombstone.

“It’s not for me. It’s for my family,” he whispered, reaching out for it. He wrapped his hands around the guitar’s neck, eyes shut, and waited a moment. Then he peeked open his eyes and let out a long sigh of relief when he saw his hands keep the skin on. “Gracias!”

And just like that—dirty, exhausted, carrying a guitar that wasn’t his—Héctor ran all the way back to the Plaza.

He knew he needed to go as soon as possible, but his stomach sank as he saw how few people were out this early. Still, maybe he…

“Dios mio, where have you been?”

Strong arms gripped Héctor’s shoulders, and he was whirled around to face Ernesto. His friend’s face seemed torn between relief and anger…ah, but that didn’t matter. Miguel needed him. He shook his head.

“I’ll explain later, it’s a long story. Right now, I need to get to the mira—”

“You look half-dead! And your charro suit…”

“I’ll fix it! Later. First I…” He tugged himself away from Ernesto’s grasp and ran straight to the middle of the square. Before Ernesto could stop him, he hopped up onto the mirador, looking out at the square. A few stragglers who’d had too much fun the night before were napping here and there, a few mamas out doing some early morning shopping…he’d missed his chance. No one would hear him.

Héctor sucked in a breath and stood up straight. Well, he’d make sure he heard them. He’d play and play until everyone in Santa Cecilia listened. He started with a loud rift, the notes carrying through the sleepy plaza. A few of the revelers woke up, and a few of the mamas paused. From the corner of his eye, he could see Ernesto being torn between wanting to pull him down and not wanting to attach himself to the crazed, dirty young man in the center of the plaza.

The tune slowed, to a simple little strumming; something easily playable for a kid just learning how to play. He swallowed, shutting his eyes as he opened his mouth.

“Remember me

Though I have to say goodbye

Remember me

Don’t let it make you cry…”

He did his best to keep his voice steady and clear. Someone here had to know what had happened. Someone had to know this song.

He opened his eyes as he held out the last note, voice wavering as the scene in front of him looked exactly the same. There were a few eyes on him, yes, but nothing that suggested anyone recognized the song. His shoulders sagged, and he swallowed as his fingers stilled on the guitar. He glanced around once more, then, exhaustion and disappointment overwhelming him, he dropped down onto the mirador’s steps.

It had been a stupid idea. Of course it wouldn’t work. But…he’d hoped…

“Perdonamé, señor…but where did you hear that song?”

Héctor looked up wearily, brow furrowing as he met the sharp brown eyes of an older woman, looking at him suspiciously. It couldn’t be…ah, but there’d already been one happy coincidence tonight. Why not try for two?

“Are you Coco?” he asked softly. Her eyes widened.

“I…no, I’m not her,” she said, a little breathless. “I’m her daughter, Elena.” Her eyes narrowed. “Look, I don’t know what kind of tonterías this is, but…” She was cut off as Héctor jumped to his feet.

“Then you know Miguel!”

Elena went silent, face slackening in shock. She looked away. “How could you know…”

“He’s my family! Look, it’s…it’s a really, really long story, but…but I have a photo of him! For the ofrenda! And I promised I’d get it to you, so…” He reached into his jacket pocket, ready to pull out the photo. But…nothing was there. “I…I swear, he gave it…I had…” He searched all of his pockets. He didn’t lose it in the fall, right? No, he would have seen it. So then why…

Oh.

Oh no, he hadn’t even thought.

The photo had been a spirit copy.

Héctor froze in place, eyes stinging. He’d come so close. He’d almost gotten Miguel back home. He gasped in a breath as a hand lightly rested on his arm.

“You said Miguel was family?” Elena asked gently.

Héctor nodded mutely. If he so much as opened his mouth, he knew all that would come out would be a frustrated sob. Elena pat his arm, nodding a bit.

“Then why don’t you come with me, mijo? I think there’s some things that need to be discussed.”

“You know, chamaco, you’re a tough guy to find.”

A year had passed since Héctor’s jaunt to the Land of the Dead, and surprisingly, not much had changed. He and Ernesto were still touring, of course, a little more known than they’d been a year ago, but nowhere near household names. Now, though, he had no shortage of inspirations for songs. He was scribbling constantly—songs about life, songs about death, songs about family—so the trip back to Santa Cecilia wasn’t for inspiration this time.

This time, it was for family.

He’d gotten the whole story of Miguel’s death last year, when Elena had brought him home and grilled him about the song. The schoolhouse just outside of the school had been caught in a landslide years ago during the rainy season; the students and their teacher were killed near-instantly. Elena had taken comfort knowing that Miguel likely had no idea what hit him (which was probably true, Héctor realized with an uncomfortable twist in his stomach, and explained the lack of memory), but even after all this time, the area was still prone to flash floods. A few of the remains had been pulled out, but most were left behind—Miguel’s included.

But, with a lot of digging, a lot of help, and some frightfully good timing, Héctor Rivera made sure that changed. And so this year, he proudly set a photo—a little dirty and water-damaged, but still clear—on the Rivera family ofrenda. He smiled as he looked at the little boy with one dimple in his cheek.

“But we got you here, Miguelito,” he said to the photo. “Hopefully you like your new place; Tía Elena said they were able to make room next to Mamá Coco for you. I hope you were able to find her before now—I know the Department’s a mess, but if she’s anything like Tía Elena, she wouldn’t rest until she found you.”

He grinned before pointing to himself. “And speaking of family, you’ve got yourself a new primo. Well. I guess we’ve always been primos, but it’s acknowledged now. Apparently she had no idea my wayward mother—she used some, ah, more colorful language—dropped me off at the orphanage. It was after most of the family packed up shop and moved after the landslide. Too much pain in Santa Cecilia, I guess.”

He glanced up out the window. “Looks like it’s just about sunset, chamaco. I’ll come visit after the talent show—heh, if I don’t end up stealing another guitar—so I’ll meet you in the graveyard.” He stood up straight, looking over the ofrenda before giving a small smile to the photo again.

“And before I forget…welcome home, Miguel. Told you I’d get you back.”

#coco fic #reverse au #Some bits are a little simplistic and I apologize for that #I maybe shouldn't have tried to do a whole AU in one go but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#Your girl slush doesn't do things by halves #Also disclaimer nuns are generally really nice ladies and I love them #Sister Maria Rafaela is an outlier and should not be counted

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