#“why does taylor have wings” mind your business

[a-random-warrior]

Day 20 of drawing ships I like for pride month

Taylor x Charise ! Another ship I like but don't know the name of

[Requests are closed (sorryy)]

[itsthewritergal]

I was worried - Odd One Out part 4 - Weasley!Reader x D.M

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 

Draco had searched the castle, high and low. Every single place Y/N and him had found last year, yet she wasn’t anywhere to be found. Draco didn’t expect to find her in the Common Room, he cursed himself silently as it now seemed so obvious that she was here. She stood by the large windows looking out into the depths of the Black Lake, she really loved the views from the Common Room.  She’d even persuaded Draco and the others to move the nicest sofa over so that she could watch the lake as they spoke. Draco of course wasn’t very happy about it all, but once Y/N asked he gave in instantly, somehow she had wormed her way underneath his skin, much to his friends amusement of course. Draco slowed once he realised she wasn’t alone, there were a few first years gathered around the window next to her, her voice rung through the common room

“And on the sunny days the sun shines through the window and it casts this beautiful light all through the room” She said with a kind smile, Draco grinned as he remembered the words he had spoken to her on her first night

“But the Gryffindor’s said we were bad” One first year said

“They said we’re with You Know Who” Another added

“Well they’re wrong” Taylor said with a pitiful smile at Y/N

“Completely wrong, you chose your own path. And here you can be anyone you want” She said ignoring the look from her friend, Y/N’s eyes landed on Draco who stood leaning against the wall with a goofy look on his face. She grinned at him then turned back to the first years

“Anyone?” One asked “Anyone at all” Y/N said “You know when I got sorted last year I begged the hat to change its mind. But the hat knows best, I’ve made friends who I know I’ll have for life now. And i wouldn’t change it for the world” She grinned

“Y/N?” a girl said “You’re a Weasley, what do your family think of you being a Slytherin?” She asked, Draco knew there was no malice behind the words but he saw how they cut through Y/N’s facade for a moment

“They know this is the best place for me” She said with a faltering smile

“Last one to the dorms is a slimy frog” Taylor said quickly bursting into a run towards the dorms. The first years laughing behind her. Y/N was left alone. Her attention turned to Draco who moved closer to her,

“I thought they were my lines” He smirked

“Shove off, I was only comforting them” She said

“The hat should have put you in Hufflepuff you’re so soft” He laughed as he pulled her down onto the sofa with him, she landed on his lap with a huff

“You’re an idiot” She said clambering off of him and placing her next to him with her feet laying on his lap

“I’m an idiot that’s been looking around the castle for you” He said, the worry appearing back on his face

“Why would you do that?” Y/n said

“Cause I was worried about you” Draco said gently

“I’m fine” She said tiredly

“You don’t have to lie to me” He said brushing a strand of hair from her face

“I’m used to it, I’ve had it all summer” She said quietly fiddling with her fingers, Draco placed his hand on top of hers stopping her from pulling at the skin around her nails.

“You’re staying with me then next summer” He said firmly

“I couldn’t do that to your family that’s not fair” “Mother loves you, it would be an honour” He chuckled

“ooh already getting an invite to the manor, where have I gone wrong” Blaise laughed as he landed heavily on the sofa

“You don’t look like Y/N” Crabbe laughed

“That’s enough” Draco snapped, he caught the way Crabbe looked at Y/N and it made his skin crawl. Y/N shifted in her seat

“I’m going to go to bed, I’ll see you guys in the morning” She hummed tiredly

“Night” Draco said with a smile.

— — — — —

Y/N had heard about the Buckbeak incident, it had been all over the school by lunch. Typical Draco she thought making a mountain out of nothing, Pansy had apparently been doting on him all morning in the hospital wing, Y/N was sure Draco loved all that. She told herself not to be jealous, that she and Draco were only friends and he saw her as only a friend, but the thought of Pansy all over him made her angry. Really angry. She walked into the Great Hall for dinner with a scowl on her face, she had lied to her friend and said it was because of her bad grade in potions which was partly true; Snape had been particularly rude and horrid to Y/N today. Her scowl deepened when she saw Pansy sitting with Draco with her arm around her shoulder, and Draco’s arm in a sling. Y/N sat a few seats away from Draco, who tried to get her attention as she sat down. Y/N noticed the looks she got from Draco and her other friends but she decided to ignore them.

“Does it hurt terribly Draco?” Pansy doted on him, Draco replied but Y/N didn’t bother to listen. Instead she pushed her plate a little away from her and walked out of the great hall, she heard some whispers, but that was nothing new to her. She was a Slytherin Weasley having people talk about her was practically her birthright. The Slytherin common room was practically empty, with a few students getting ready to head to dinner. Y/N sat herself down on her favourite sofa, and settled her mind on getting her potions work done.

“Missed you at dinner” Crabbe said sitting down next to her, Y/N looked around for Draco, Crabbe and Goyle had always given her the creeps. Y/N didn’t respond “Come on Y/N, talk to me” He begged, the tone made her skin crawl,

“I’m busy” She said simply, she had hoped Crabbe would get the message, Draco would have noticed the fear in her voice, but he wasn’t here

“Do you not like me then?” Crabbe said, Y/N left Crabbe on the sofa and sat herself down at one of the desks at the side of the room, Much to her disappointment Crabbe followed her and sat opposite her

“I can help you with your homework” he offered

“You’re bad at potions, so no thank you” She said with a tight smile “I Can still help” He argued

“No” She shut him down, turning her eyes back down to the work in front of her, only for her leg to get kicked by the boy in front of her “What?” She asked scowling at Crabbe “Why don’t you like me?” He asked “You should go out with me then i’d show you” He said

“Don’t you understand what no means?” Y/N snapped,

“woah Y/N” Blaise said walking into the common room, with Draco and Pansy following “You alright?” He asked

“He won’t leave me alone” She snapped angrily, feeling her emotions bubble up at the sight of her friends

“That’s not true” Crabbe argued “She was leading me on”

“Why don’t we go on a walk?” Draco asked Y/N

“No thanks, it seems like you’ve got your hands full with Pansy” She snapped turning on her heel and storming off to the dorms.

— — — — —

Y/N was up early, sitting in the common room already dressed for the school day ahead. She watched the giant squid as it swam up and down past the windows. Her fingers played with the frayed edges of her knitted jumper, it reminded her of home. She didn’t feel a home at Hogwarts this year, the sofa dipped next to her pulling her out of her thoughts.

“You’re up early” Draco said gently

“Yeah” She said not once looking at him, she didn’t want to or need to. Although the sling caught the corner of her eye, she wasn’t going to dote on him as well

“Crabbe was out of order, I’ve sorted him out” Draco said draping his good arm across the sofa behind Y/N

“I was handling it” she snapped

“I was only trying to help Y/N” Draco replied

“Right well I should go and sort out my books for the day” Y/N knew it was a bad lie but nothing else had come to mind

“Have I done soemthing?” Draco said impatiently

“No Draco you haven’t” She said not daring to look at him, scared that she would break apart

“Clearly I have because You’ve been avoiding me” Draco snapped “I’ve noticed, ever since yesterday you’ve barely said two words to me”

“You’re making things up Draco” She replied turning with a scowl plastered on her face “Y/N,” he said seriously “has someone said something?” “It’s nothing” She said gently

“I know you too well for that to work” Draco said taking a step towards her, he towered over her. She hadn’t noticed just how much he had grown before

“I don’t like it” She said quietly

“I’m going to need more than that darling” he said

“I don’t like seeing Pansy all over you, she’s acting like you’re hers. It’s pathetic” She snapped

“You know what Pansy is like darling, pay no attention to her” Draco said “I don’t” She defended herself

“There’s something else Y/N, I know there is” he said gently coaxing her back towards the sofa

“Last night when Crabbe was being weird with me, I couldn’t do anything. I felt so powerless, I didn’t like it” She said

“I won’t let anything like that happen to you again. I promise” Draco said

“Does your arm hurt badly?” Y/N asked gently her fingers brushing over the sling

“not really, I just wanted to see how much homework I can avoid doing” He chuckled, not admitting how much he adored watching Y/N gently touch his hand,

“Nothing’s going to happen to Buckbeak right?” she asked

“No, I don’t want anything to happen to him. It’s why I haven’t told my parents yet” Draco said gently “Promise you’ll try and stop them if they do anything”  She said gently

Draco brushed her face with his good hand. A smile graced his lips,

“I promise”

Taglist :)

@whitewineandpizzapuffs

@planet-naptune

@thefandomplace

@sebby-staan

@witch-and-a-half

@nojamsonmytoast

@seanh-boredom

@wanniiieeee

@louweasleymalfoy

Odd one out taglist

@loxbbg

[delacyrose224]

Gold Rush

-Pairing: drummer!Jungkook x reader, with a side of guitarist!Jin x OC

-Premise: You were never one for rushing into relationships, but what happens when you meet a certain blue-haired drummer?

-Genre: rock band!AU, some fluff but also some angst

-Word Count: 8.1k

-Author's Note: This is based on the song 'gold rush' by the one and only Taylor Swift! It will still make sense if you don't know the song, but you'll find some fun Easter egg references if you do know it. Also, fun fact: this is the first fic I've written since high school...do with that what you will.

“Come...on!” Margot grunts as she tugs on your arm. You literally have no idea why you’ve agreed to this night out-it’s Tuesday, you have work in the morning, you’re already tired and the night hasn’t even started.

“I’m coming,” you mutter begrudgingly, as you step carefully in your heeled boots down very narrow steps into what looks like a very seedy bar. The Dynasty. You walk in the door, and instantly try to retreat-it’s tiny, the floor is sticky with who knows what, and it’s packed. More like The Die Nasty...this could not be further from your comfort zone.

Margot, meanwhile, could not look more excited. She’s been talking about this concert for weeks now. You can’t even remember the name of the band, that’s how not your scene this is. Margot steers you towards the bar. “What do you want? My treat, since I made you come out on a work night just to be my wing woman.”

You scrunch up your nose in disbelief. Her wing woman? Has she seen you? You’re the most awkward person alive around men, especially cute men. Plus, it doesn’t help that you barely had time to throw on an Eagles t-shirt with a pair of jeans, and your hair has frizzed out from the light drizzle of rain that started on the walk over. “A Malibu with coke works,” you say, adding, “And make it a double!” at her retreating back.

You turn and scour the packed room for an empty booth, table, anything. Your eyes finally land on a tiny two person booth in an awkward corner of the room. Margot may not be able to see the band perfectly from here, but at least you’ll have seats. “A drink for my best friend in the whole entire world!!” Margot smiles brightly as she brings your beverages over to the table. “Do you think Jin will notice me? I tried to look cute, but not try too hard, y’know?” She smoothes down the front of her blouse nervously. You immediately have a witty retort ready to go, but you don’t have the heart to say it when you look up and see how fidgety she is. “Mar-if he doesn’t notice you, he’s an idiot,” you smile kindly.

The show isn’t due to start for another 30-45 minutes, so you spend that time chatting with Margot about work, life, and everything in between. She’s convinced that if she can just get Jin to notice her, that she’ll be able to introduce you to one of his bandmates, and then you can go on double dates (or something like that). “Mar, do you really think tortured artists go on double dates? I really can’t see it,” you snort into your drink. Let alone a guy in a band being interested in you, you’re about as boring and straitlaced as they come. You lose track of time as you continue the conversation, and the alcohol is certainly making you less annoyed that you’re here.

“They’re starting, they’re starting!” Margot squeals, gripping your arm. “Really?” You try to twist around in your seat to see, but before you get very far, you’re being dragged out into the space right in front of the stage. You’re not quite front row, but you’re awfully close-too close for your own liking, if you’re being honest.

“Margot…” you hiss, trying to get her attention, but all hope is lost. Her eyes are glued to the small stage, waiting for the man she’s deemed to be the love of her life to walk out and pick up his guitar. You give up after a while, huffing and crossing your arms to show your displeasure. A few girls around you give you a sidelong glance, seemingly judging you for being upset at a concert. How dare you? After staring at you for what they deem to be an appropriate amount of time, they go back to their own conversations, which you’re able to overhear due to your close proximity.

“Were you at the last show? They’ve improved SO much since they started, I love them!!” one yells a little too loudly, while her friend nods enthusiastically.

“Have you heard that Jungkook dyed his hair blue?! He was hot before, but now…” the girl can’t even seem to finish her sentence, she’s so overcome by the ‘hotness’ of this Jungkook guy, whoever he is.

As soon as his name is mentioned, you suddenly seem to overhear it multiple times in the conversations surrounding you while the band’s crew finishes setting up for them. You lean over to ask Margot what the heck the deal is with Jungkook, but just as you open your mouth to begin talking, a loud strumming blasts from the speakers on the edge of the stage, and you mouth ‘nevermind’ and step back to where you were.

A tall, broad shouldered man steps out of the shadows at the back of the stage to deafening screams, his guitar already strapped across his chest. He lifts up a hand in greeting, and steps up to one of the mics set up. “Thank you all for coming out! We hope you have a great time tonight!” He blows a kiss to the crowd (to more deafening screams). Margot looks like she might faint-this must be Jin.

Next to walk out is a sullen looking guy, shorter and smaller than the first. He walks to the side of the stage opposite of you, and picks up a bass. Forget Jin, forget Jungkook (whichever one he turns out to be), you like this guy. Sure, he’s cute or whatever, but he literally looks like he wants to be anywhere but where he’s currently at. “Same, dude, same,” you mutter to yourself under your breath. One of the girls from earlier must have overheard you again, because she turns and gives you a weird look. The multiple Malibu and cokes you had earlier give you the courage to tell her to mind her own business and leave you alone, but just as you begin to lean forward, the loudest screams yet erupt from the crowd. You immediately clench your hands over your ears (which you realize looks ridiculous at a concert) and turn to look at what’s caused the reaction.

Over the heads of the people in front of you, you see a mop of almost neon blue hair making its way to the drum set, but the rest of him is obscured as he swiftly walks across the stage. This must be that Jungkook guy those girls were talking about earlier. His hair looks like a blueberry as far as you’re concerned, and you still don’t understand what the fuss is about.

He settles behind his kit, and as the people in front of you move slightly, you catch a glimpse of Jungkook. His blueberry hair falls around his face in waves, and his nose is scrunched up because of the giant grin on his face, clearly ecstatic to start the show. Okay, he was cute. Cuter than bass guy and Jin (though you’d never utter that sentence out loud to Margot for fear of losing your life). Still, he’s just another guy in a band, right?

Jin starts the opening chords to the first song to deafening cheers, bass guy starting to play shortly after, and Jungkook having the time of his life on the drums. After a long intro, you hear a smooth voice with a tinge of rasp come through the mic. It instantly feels like your bones have turned to jelly, and you want to melt into a puddle (in the best way). However, you are confused. You’re staring at Jin, who is immersed in his playing, sweat already starting to drip from his brow from being under bright lights. His mouth isn’t moving. Why? He’s the lead singer. Are you imagining the lyrics you’re hearing right now?

You lean over to Margot, who’s conveniently also looking at Jin, albeit for a completely different reason. “Why isn’t the lead singer doing anything?” you shout over the music. “Huh?” she screams back, unable to clearly make out what you’re saying. “I said, why isn’t Jin singing?!” you yell.

Margot looks over to you, mirroring the confusion on your own face. “Look!” she points towards the back of the stage. There you see Jungkook, not only playing the drums, but also singing lead vocals in one of most attractive voices you’ve ever heard. Not only that, but he’s somehow managed to keep that scrunched nose smile from earlier on his face while doing it. So THAT’S what all the fuss about Jungkook was over. Just as your brain makes the connection between it being his singing coming through the speakers, he makes eye contact with you and his smile seems to grow even bigger, his eyes sparkling with delight.

Oh, you’re in big trouble.

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

The rest of the concert seems to go by in a blur. You have no idea how many songs the group does, you are so caught up in watching Jungkook perform...he clearly has talent, but you can tell he’s in love with what he’s doing. Even when sweat makes his hair start to stick to his forehead, he merely gives his head a shake (sort of like a dog), and keeps going with that wide smile on his face. It certainly doesn’t help that it feels like at least every other song, he’s making eye contact with you somehow-even though you’re not front row, even though his drum kit is at the back of the stage. Surely you’re making that up. He’s just a good performer, right? He makes all the girls feel like this, like he’s performing just for them.

As Jin strums out the final notes of the last song, you shake your head to clear your thoughts. This is dumb, you had too much to drink, and you were distracted by a cute guy who has a pretty voice. That’s all.

As the song dies out, you turn to your best friend. “Margot, you ready to go? I’m tired.” What you’ve failed to notice is that your best friend has disappeared while you’ve been wrapped up in your own thoughts. Did she go to the bathroom? Had she gotten more drunk while you were busy swooning (no, NOT swooning) over a certain blue-haired drummer? Just as you’re about to start panicking, you see her as the group of fans in front of you starts to disperse...and she’s talking TO JIN.

He’s sitting on the edge of the stage, long legs dangling off the front, head tilted back laughing at something Margot has said. His laugh doesn’t quite seem to fit him-it’s loud and squeaky, kind of like a windshield wiper dragging itself across the front of a car. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out his guitar pick, and goes to hand it to your friend. Simultaneously, he leans in and gives her a kiss on the cheek. Other girls that are around you, hanging back in hopes of meeting the boys, are clearly fuming at the action and some even stomp off.

On one hand, you are excited for Margot-she’s gotten the attention of the man she’s been talking about nonstop for days. On the other hand, you also want to leave-love is gross and you have no time for it. Since you can’t abandon your friend in a seedy bar with a man she hardly knows, you settle for the next best thing-your fifth (you think?) drink of the night.

“A Malibu and coke please,” you ask the bartender while sliding cash across the counter. You know you’ll regret the alcohol running through your system in the morning, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care enough to stop. You pick up the drink, filled to the brim, and turn quickly to go hide in your booth from the beginning of the night. Surely Margot will come find you when she’s done talking, right? Just as you turn, someone walking the opposite way bumps elbows with you with enough force to cause half your drink to slosh down the front of your shirt and onto the floor.

“Oh wow, I am so sorry! I should have been paying more attention-let me get some napkins for you!” says some unknown male voice. You’re too busy mourning over your half spilled drink that you’d just paid too much for to reply. Suddenly, there’s napkins thrust into your hand, and you look up.

It’s Jungkook.

He’s even more attractive up close, if that’s even possible. He’s sweaty, but somehow makes it look good-his longer hair is swept back into a little blue half bun, his eyeliner is smudged, and he’s down to his white undershirt with ripped jeans. The dim lights of the bar are reflecting off both his earrings and what looks like the stars in his eyes.

“Um...are you okay? I can go get you a new shirt to change into-wait here!” Before you have the chance to form any words, he jogs off towards the stage where he has a conversation with the bassist. The bassist doesn’t look happy about what Jungkook says, but Jungkook still goes to the back of the stage, and comes back with a black piece of fabric in his hands.

“Yoongi’s pissed because these aren’t even ready to be sold, but whatever. Just think of it as an exclusive sneak peek or something,” Jungkook says as he hands the shirt to you. You accidentally brush your hand across his as you take what he’s handing you, and you feel like you might burst into flames with the way your insides feel like they’ve become molten lava.

You unfold the shirt to see that it’s got song lyrics written across it in dripping graffiti font, along with their signatures. The realization suddenly hits you that you still have not said a single word to the man standing in front of you.

“Y-Yoongi?” you stammer out. You hate how much you sound like a high schooler asking their crush to prom. “Oh yeah, that’s our bassist. The one who looks like he’d literally rather be anywhere else than playing with Jin and me,” Jungkook chuckles. “He’s really a softy underneath it all, but don’t tell him I said that.”

You laugh, though you feel like it sounds a little too forced and a little too loud. Your assumption seems to be right, as you see Jungkook raise one eyebrow.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I really am sorry I made you spill your drink.” He genuinely looks worried. About you. What universe are you even living in right now?

“I’m fine, really. Thanks for the t-shirt, you didn’t have to do that,” you mumble softly.

“It’s the least I could do for a pretty girl whose Eagles tee I ruined, don’t worry about it. Yoongi will get over it.”

Jungkook smiles that same smile he seemed to throw your way throughout the concert, nose scrunching up, eyes sparkling. It feels like you’ve been thrown overboard into the ocean in the middle of a storm. You can’t get your bearings, the waves keep throwing you under, and you’re disoriented. The only light is coming from the stars in his eyes. Surely this man who could date anyone he wanted to did not just call you pretty, as casually as he might have mentioned the weather outside?

You’re shaken out of your reverie as Margot and Jin approach the two of you. “JK, my man, sorry I took so long-I was too busy being enchanted by this lovely lady,” Jin smiles, and you can see that Margot is beaming with happiness. You’re glad someone’s night has gone well.

“No problem, I was just talking to...” Jungkook suddenly looks lost, realizing he doesn’t know your name.

“Y/N.” you blurt out. Margot looks at you strangely, but is distracted once Jungkook begins talking again.

“Yeah, I bumped into her and made her spill her drink, so I gave her one of our shirts and we were just chatting.” He smiles gently at you and your heart does a somersault.

“Nice to meet you. You must be cool if you’re friends with this one,” Jin nudges Margot with his shoulder. How long have the two of them been able to talk for, for him to know you’re friends? You’ll definitely need a debrief on the walk home.

You speak to Jin with much more ease and control than you can manage with Jungkook. “I like to think I’m cool,” you grin. At this, Jungkook smirks.

“She’s the best!” Margot chirps, clearly still a little drunk. Jin chuckles and puts an arm around her shoulders.

“Well, pretty girl, JK and I need to go help Yoongi with getting everything put up in our van. It was lovely to meet you,” he drops his arm from around her shoulders, only to pick up her hand in his and kisses her knuckles promptly. Margot giggles. “I’d love to take you out sometime.” She nods enthusiastically.

“It was nice to meet you too,” Jungkook leans in to half-whisper in your ear. When did he get that close?! You nod with a small smile in his direction-that’s all you can seem to manage when that drowning in the ocean feeling suddenly returns.

He and Jin turn to leave, and you go to your booth, making sure you didn’t leave anything behind before the whole drink-spilling fiasco happened. Seeing that you have everything, you turn to find Margot, only to see Jungkook whispering in her ear across the room and laughing.

Your heart drops. You were right all along-he does treat all the girls like this, like they’re special to him.

Margot comes up to you shortly after. “You ready to go?” you ask quietly.

“Yep!” she smiles, and drags you out of The Dynasty by the hand. The entire walk home, all she can talk about is Jin-how cute he is, how funny he is, how talented he is, and oh, did she mention how cute he is? You nod and smile in all the right places in her story. You are happy for Margot, but you can’t help comparing what she’s telling you with your interactions with Jungkook. You had acted like an idiot, and there was no way he was interested in you on any level. Plus, he clearly thought that your best friend was worth flirting with after Jin helped him escape your awkward conversation.

You shake your head to clear it as you reach your apartment building. Margot bids you farewell at the second floor, while you continue your trudge up the stairs to the fourth floor. You key into your apartment, throwing your keys into a bowl and heading for your bedroom.

Makeup off, pjs on, you’ve just finished washing your face when you look at yourself in the mirror. “Boys are dumb, and love is stupid,” you say to yourself, not sure if you actually believe what you’re saying. As you dry your face, you hear the sound of your phone receiving a text. Margot, no doubt, still waxing poetic about how she can’t believe that Jin wants to take her out on a date.

You slide into bed and turn off your lamp, grabbing your phone to set an alarm for the morning and to tell Margot that you’ll talk some more tomorrow during lunch.

Unknown Number

2:37 AM: Hey, it’s Jungkook!...I hope you don’t mind, I got your number from Margot. thanks for coming out to the show tonight, I hope you had a good time!! if you didn’t, you don’t have to wear the shirt I gave you, that would be weird for you to wear it if you hated our music…

2:41 AM: anyway, I just wanted to apologize again for making you spill your drink. Usually I’m not that clumsy, I guess I was distracted. You should come hang out with the band before our next show on Friday! only if you want. let me know...or don’t. Whatever you want.

2:45 AM: Can you tell I’m nervous? haha

2:46 AM: usually i’m not like this, but you’re really pretty and you seem cool. ANYWAY. I hope you hang out with us-bring Margot too, Jin would like that. I hope you got home safe and i hope i see you soon :)

You stare in disbelief at your phone. Jungkook just texted you. Jungkook just texted you FOUR TIMES IN A ROW. Good thing you are much less awkward via text, mostly because you have time to think out what to say. You can’t help the giant grin that forms on your face as you type out a reply.

2:50 AM: I made it home, thanks for checking in...I can’t turn down a good band shirt, so I’ll definitely be wearing it. Maybe I’ll wear it if we hang out, you’ll have to wait and see!

You place your phone on the nightstand and turn over to get comfortable. Maybe Margot wasn’t the only one who had a good night after all.

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

Three days later, you’re staring at your phone sitting on your desk. “Can you not?” Margot huffs from beside you, rolling over in her desk chair. “Just freaking text JK and tell him we’re coming to hang out with the band,” she rolls her eyes and lets out a huge sigh.

“Margot, can you not? Stop being so loud, we’re at work,” you hiss. Margot looks slightly taken aback at your comment, and then swiftly rolls back to her own desk.

You’ll deal with her hurt feelings later. For now, you go back to staring at Jungkook’s text that is boring a hole in your brain...he sent it about six hours ago, and you still haven’t replied.

Jungkook

8:53 AM: Morning! I know it’s kinda early, but i figured you might be at work already. You and Margot coming by later? Jin will cook for us! i think i can manage some cookies too, just don’t judge if they don’t taste as good as jin’s cooking...i swear he was a chef in a past life. You like chocolate chip?

You’d had brief text conversations each day since you met, nothing too crazy. Even so, you still can’t help but feel like your brain is freezing over, ceasing all functioning momentarily every time a text comes in from him. Margot is right, you just need to text him back already.

3:30 PM: Make it snickerdoodle and I’m there.

Jungkook immediately sends back a reply, overeagerly filled with emojis, their apartment address, and instructions to come over at 6. For a drummer in a rock band, he is surprisingly silly, kind, and warm. You’re not sure what you expected from him, but it wasn’t this.

The rest of the work day goes quickly, your mind preoccupied with what’s in store for you at the boys’ apartment. As soon as you and Margot step outside your office, her eyes are glued to her phone. “Hey, Margot...I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I just don’t know what this...thing...is with Jungkook, and I’m stressed. Not an excuse, but you didn’t deserve me being rude,” you say in a small voice.

“Girl, I forgave you like ten minutes after you said it, it’s whatever. Look at this!” She shoves her phone under your nose, and you examine what she’s trying to get you to look at. Pictures of food? You’re confused.

“What is it?” you ask. “Our dinner, silly! Jinnie’s making us pasta carbonara with homemade breadsticks!” Your mouth involuntarily starts watering at even the mention of food. Homemade bread? Jungkook must not have been kidding about Jin’s cooking.

“Look look look, your boyfriend is making us snickerdoodle cookies too-how sweet!” Margot gives you a sly smile, and you can immediately feel heat radiating off your cheeks.

“He’s not my boyfriend! He’s just-whatever! He’s not even interested in me like that, he hasn’t asked me out or anything. Not like someone I know,” you attempt to distract her by bringing up her date with Jin (it had literally happened the day after meeting him, and he’d set up a second one for the weekend-you couldn’t help but be impressed). Even though you’re flustered, you still can’t stop the warmth spreading through you. Yes, embarrassment. But also Jungkook was making snickerdoodle cookies like you asked.

“Boyfriend or not, we’re here!” Margot singsongs as you walk through the front doors of an apartment building, and step into an elevator, pressing the button for floor seven.

There’s a loud pinging sound as you step out, and Margot knocks on the door directly across from the elevator. You hear clanging sounds, alongside shuffling and male voices indistinctly talking. The door swings open to reveal Jin in a pink apron.

“Hey pretty girl,” his eyes light up when he sees Margot standing in the doorway, and he immediately bends down to kiss the top of her head. Margot is positively beaming, and looks up at him like he’s her entire world.

You clear your throat awkwardly. “Oh hey, y/n,” Jin smiles warmly at you. “Jungkook’s excited to see you, he hasn’t stopped talking about you coming over since he started making those cookies.” Jin winks as your eyes grow wide.

“HYUNG!!” you hear Jungkook bellow from you assume the kitchen. As you all walk into the apartment, you can see him glaring at Jin.

“What? I’m just telling the truth, nothing wrong with that-right, Margot?”

“Right,” your best friend grins.

“Not you too, M. Why do I put up with this torture?” Jungkook pouts in your direction, blue strands of hair falling messily in his face. You can see he’s also wearing an apron, black-but with lots of flour stains.

You walk closer to the kitchen and lean on the counter that separates it from the living room. You may be nervous as ever, but maybe if you fake confidence, things will feel better.

“Oh, I dunno, maybe because he’s one of your best friends and bandmates? Because maybe it is the truth?” you grin cheekily.

Jungkook’s doe eyes go even wider than you thought possible, and it looks like he may drop the mixing bowl he has in his hands.

“Weren’t you excited I was coming over, Kook? I can leave if you want…” you step into the kitchen with him, reaching forward and gently pushing a loose strand of hair out of his face. You swear he leans into your touch, and it feels like electricity is coursing through your veins.

“I-I mean, of course I was! I invited you over, didn’t I? Of course I want you here.” Jungkook has a fierce blush creeping up his neck towards his face, and he looks like he wants to sink through the floor.

A deep chuckle resounds from the corner of the living room, and you turn around to see Yoongi smirking at the two of you from an armchair. “Can we eat now, please? As much as I love seeing the two of you absolutely not know how to function like normal human beings...I’m hungry.”

Jin uses this opportunity to sweep into the kitchen, grabbing his pasta off the stovetop and bringing it to the center of the dining room table. Margot brings the breadsticks over and places them down as well. You each take a seat, Yoongi sitting at one end of the table, Jin and Margot on one side, you and Jungkook on the other. Dinner unfolds in a relatively normal fashion, mostly silent because everyone is so hungry. Jungkook may have actually been underselling Jin’s cooking ability, because you’re not sure when the last time you had pasta this good was.

Just as you’re finishing up, the timer on the oven beeps, signaling that Jungkook’s cookies are done. He hops up out of his seat to grab the pan out of the oven. A few seconds later, you hear a loud expletive and a metallic clang. “Kook?” you call, already walking towards the kitchen. As you round the corner, you see him holding his hand under the faucet, water streaming over what looks like a nasty burn.

“Kook!” you exclaim, swiftly moving towards him, peeking around him to see the injury. “What happened?”

Jungkook turns around, seemingly just noticing your presence. He gives you a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing. The pan started slipping out of my hand, so I went to grab it with my other hand to steady it. I just happened to forget I was only wearing one oven mitt.” He forlornly looks behind the two of you. You follow his gaze to see that most of the cookies have fallen on the floor, save for three. “I just wanted the cookies to be perfect.” His lower lip juts out as he begins to pout, staring at the cookies littering the floor.

“Jungkook, look at me.” His eyes raise from the floor to your own. “The fact that you even made any cookies at all is very sweet-pun intended. It’s the effort that counts. That, and making sure you don’t have permanent burn damage.” You reach out for his wrist and delicately turn his hand to look at it. It’s angry looking, but you can tell it will heal pretty easily (you may have suffered several cookie-related burns yourself in your day). “Just make sure you put ointment on this a couple times a day for about a week, and you should be fine.” You shoot him a soft smile, which he returns.

“What are you, a doctor?” he asks.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you reply, grinning widely.

“Yah, why do you have to be so difficult? Here I am, trying to be nice, trying to get to know you more, and this is what I get in return,” he gripes, but there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Hmm...I dunno, Kook. I think you like it when I’m contrarian,” you giggle, turning to leave the kitchen. Before you can move through the door frame, Jungkook moves in front of you. You look up at him confused. He leans in close, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers.

“...maybe I do. But next time I see you, you should actually wear the shirt I gave you.”

He winks, leaves the kitchen, and leaves you to wonder what the heck just happened.

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

Your sporadic texts with Jungkook have turned into one long, continuous conversation over the past few weeks. It feels like you talk about everything, but also nothing. He remains somewhat a mystery, though you know this is because you’re still keeping him at arm’s length.

Jungkook is too good for you, you’ve decided. He’s cute, funny, charming, and talented. Everyone is in love with him for good reason. Every time he makes eye contact with you, his smile lights up his entire face. That smile has you falling faster than you’d like, and it isn’t a pleasant feeling. A cloudlike floating down to Earth? Try hurtling through the atmosphere like an asteroid determined to destroy the planet. You haven’t hit the ground yet, but you’re not sure if you’ll be able to properly recover once you do.

Kook

4:23 PM: Come with me to the beach this weekend! You need a break from work, and i need a break from the morons i live with...don’t tell them i said that. I need to work on song stuff too, but i’d like some company :)

Your chest constricts at his latest message. Is this a date? He hasn’t asked you on one before, but this feels suspiciously date-esque. But he’s working on band stuff, so maybe he really just wants company. You shoot off a quick text in the affirmative before you can think much harder about it. Jungkook immediately sends back a slew of emojis, as well as telling you he’ll pick you up at 8AM on Saturday to drive the two of you down to the coast.

The next two days go by in a blur. Before you know it, you’re standing in front of your closet Saturday morning, wondering what to wear on your not-date. It’s not quite summer yet, so you know the two of you aren’t wearing bathing suits (not to mention that would have been a whole other crisis to work through-being half naked in front of a very attractive man on a maybe-date? Absolutely not). You quickly put on a pair of jean shorts, and smile as you grab their band tee and slide it over your head. You still hadn’t worn it in front of Jungkook. You finish off with french tucking the shirt, sliding on sandals and wearing a simple gold necklace with your first initial on it-you didn’t want to be too fancy.

You make yourself a cup of tea to pass time waiting for Jungkook to arrive. Halfway through drinking it, there’s a knock on the door. You hastily place your mug on the coffee table, grab your bag, and open the door to find Jungkook leaning against the doorframe.

He lights up upon seeing you, his doe eyes widening when he notices your outfit. “You’re finally wearing it! I thought I was gonna have to bribe you or something,” he smiles.

“Let’s go, dork,” you reply, shutting your door behind you and making sure it’s locked.

Jungkook leads you outside to his car, opening the door for you. “After you, m’lady.” You roll your eyes, but not without laughing at his antics. He slides into the driver’s side and starts the car. “Off we go!”

The car ride is comfortably silent-probably because it’s still early in the morning, neither of you are completely coherent yet. The hum of the road beneath the car combined with the radio playing in the background puts you at ease. You can swear you keep seeing Jungkook look at you from your peripheral vision, but maybe you’re imagining things. You settle for looking out the window at the passing scenery, which honestly is beautiful-you should get out of the city more.

After about 10 minutes, you glance over to the driver’s side, only to make complete eye contact with Jungkook. “Kook, why do you keep looking at me?” His eyes widen, and now you know you weren’t imagining things earlier.

“Oh, uh...I-I’m just glad you decided to come. Yeah. And um, you look really good in my shirt.” You can see his ears reddening as he says this, and all of a sudden, you’re looking at anywhere but him.

There’s an awkward pause for a few moments, and then suddenly that molten lava feeling from a few weeks ago at the concert is back. You whip your head back towards Jungkook so fast, you think you might injure your neck. He has reached his hand across the console to where yours sits on your thigh, and as you watch, he intertwines your fingers with his. It feels like an out-of-body experience, where you’re watching yourself from above. Is this really happening? You glance up at Jungkook’s face with wild eyes, and he meets you with a steady smile. Not only is the molten lava feeling back, but it’s brought along the storm in the ocean feeling as well. Only this time, Jungkook is there to be the lighthouse that leads you back home.

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

The rest of the drive is peaceful. Jungkook continues to hold your hand the rest of the way to the beach, shooting you smiles every time you look over at him. You’re so mesmerized, you don’t even realize that you’ve parked until he lets go.

He immediately rushes over to open your door after getting out of the car, and then proceeds to pop the trunk open and grabs a cooler and a picnic basket.

“Kook, what is all this?” your eyes widen in surprise.

“Please, like I was going to take you to the beach and not pack a picnic. We have to eat, don’t we? I got those weird sparkling waters you like too.”

Your response is to grab the picnic basket out of his hand and immediately intertwine your fingers again with his free hand. Jungkook looks like his face might split in half with how big his smile is.

“You like it?” he asks with a hint of uncertainty.

“I love it.”

The two of you walk hand in hand down the beach quite a ways before you find what Jungkook deems the ‘perfect spot’. “And what exactly makes it perfect?” you peer up at him.

“Easy-one, we’re snagging the last free shaded spot,” he points at the umbrella stuck in the sand, “and two-it’s far enough away from other people that I can work on songs without a ton of noise distracting me.”

“Are you sure I won’t distract you?” you frown slightly, worried that he won’t get any work done.

“You’re never a distraction, you’re an inspiration.” He winks conspiratorially at you, and chuckles at the flustered look on your face. He sets the cooler down under the umbrella and looks over at you. “There’s a blanket in the picnic basket, can you get it out? As much as I love the beach, I don’t really want to find sand in my shorts for the next month.”

You set the basket down next to the cooler, open the lid, and pull out a bright blue blanket. Jungkook takes one side, you take the other, and you unfold it and place it lightly on the sand. He immediately plops down on one side of the blanket and reaches his hand up toward you, motioning for you to take hold. As soon as you do, he yanks a little too hard, and you careen sideways onto the blanket and into his side. “Well, that’s one way to sit down I guess,” you laugh at his appalled face.

“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to pull that hard…” his brow furrows in worry.

“I’m good, weirdo. Great, even.” You reach into the cooler, pull out a sparkling water (key lime, your favorite), and pull the book you always keep in your bag out. You lay out on the blanket, propped up on your elbows, and begin to read. Jungkook lays down beside you in a similar position, pulling a small notebook out of his back pocket and starts scribbling.

You sit in this position for a couple of hours, silently working, occasionally catching each others’ eyes and smiling when you do. Suddenly there’s a loud rumbling beside you. You laugh. “Hungry, Kook?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he laughs, sits up and reaches over to pull the picnic basket closer to the two of you.

“What’s on the menu?” you peer over as he starts to pull plastic containers out.

“Gimbap. Simple, easy, and delicious.” He hands you one of the containers as he pulls out a second for himself.

“Did you make this yourself?” you ask, mouth half-full. He nods. “Delicious,” you concede through your mouthful. He grins.

“Maybe I could actually cook for you sometime. Without burning my hand on cookies, that is.”

“I’d like that,” you shyly respond, eyes firmly locked on the plastic container of gimbap in your lap.

“It’s a date, then.” Your eyes shoot up to meet his, and you can see dimples forming alongside his smile. You can’t help but smile back.

After eating, the two of you go back to your previous positions-you reading, him working on song lyrics in his notebook. This time, though, after about 30 minutes you start to get restless. Looking over at Jungkook, you notice he keeps shoving his hair behind his ears as it falls in his face while he’s writing. You rummage through your bag for a hair tie, and scoot over closer to him. He raises an eyebrow in curiosity at you, and you just lean over and gently start pulling his hair back for him into a half bun that matches the way his hair looked the night you first met.

“Better?” you ask quietly, running your fingers absentmindedly through the hair at the nape of his neck that’s too short for the bun. He looks up at you, awestruck.

“Everything is better with you,” he whispers. You’re not sure if he knows he’s said this out loud. He suddenly sits up on the blanket, flipping through the pages of his notebook he’s been working in. He stops about halfway through. “Can you look over these lyrics? I’m not sure they’re quite right, I need a second opinion.”

You look down at the page and see lyrics scribbled in Jungkook’s messy handwriting.

“I wish you were right here, right now”

“This mad, mad love makes you come running”

“See your face, hear my voice in the dark”

Different versions of these lyrics are scattered across the page, certain words changed, scribbled out, and moved around within phrases. As your eyes scan the page, they land on one final line etched out on the bottom of the page. No scribbles, no changes-it simply reads:

“I wish you knew that I’ll never forget you as long as I live.”

“This is really good, Kook! It’s so much different than the music the band’s done before, how’d you come up with this?” You’re genuinely curious, this almost seems more like a ballad compared to the band’s usual upbeat tunes.

Jungkook looks at you warmly. “I’ve had new inspiration lately, that’s all.” You suddenly notice that he’s way closer to you than he was when you started looking over his notes...he’s sitting directly in front of you now.

You feel frozen as you see him stealing glances at your lips while his face inches closer. Is he going to kiss you? He’s going to kiss you. Oh my gosh, JUNGKOOK IS GOING TO KISS YOU.

As his lips meet your own, the molten lava turns into an erupting volcano. You feel hot and tingly all over, and Jungkook is assaulting your senses in every way possible. You can smell his cologne, feel the softness of his lips, taste his mint chapstick, hear the satisfied hum that gets caught in his throat as your lips collide. Even though your eyes are closed, the vision of Jungkook leaning in to kiss you is seared into the backs of your eyelids.

The kiss is over far sooner than you’d like. As Jungkook retreats, he doesn’t go far, instead leaning his forehead against yours, gazing at you longingly. The stars in his eyes have become a full blown galaxy, and you can’t look away. Still recovering from the kiss, Jungkook breathily laughs.

“You make me want to write all the love songs in the world.”

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

Margot is tugging insistently on your arm. “Hello? HELLO? Is there anyone in there?” she taps the side of your head. When you don’t respond, she grabs you by both shoulders and gives you a shake.

The room comes back into focus and you look over at your best friend with eyes still lightly glazed over. “Huh?”

“I said, it’s intermission...are you enjoying the show? You certainly seemed distracted by Jungkook-I saw him smile at you,” she grins. “Jin made eye contact with me a couple of times, he even winked!” she gushes, continuing to talk about how hot she thinks he is.

Your stomach feels like it’s dropped completely out of your body, and your throat has gone dry.

“Hey...you okay?” Margot notices that you still seem slightly out of it.

“Yeah, yeah...I just...need another drink, that’s all,” you manage to choke out, turning on your heel and heading straight to the bar. While the bartender works on your drink, you run through everything in your head. The texts...the dinner at the boys’ apartment...the beach. The kiss. None of it was real, was it? What was wrong with you?

You take the drink that’s slid across to you and head outside to a side alley beside the bar. No one’s there, everyone has gone to the bathroom or to refill their drinks while waiting on the band to return. You let out a deep sigh, leaning against the brick wall and running your hands through your hair, making it even frizzier than when the night started. At least it isn’t raining anymore, you think to yourself.

You return to the question Margot had asked you-are you okay? You’re not sure. You’d apparently made eye contact with Jungkook, a man you had never spoken to, and imagined a whole entire relationship with him in the span of half the band’s setlist. Are you that desperate for a man? Apparently. You let out a deep sigh, replaying the scenarios you had created in your head. Once your brain reaches the kiss again, you find yourself getting teary-eyed at how sweet Jungkook had been...in your head. You feel a tear escape, and you quickly swipe it away.

Taking a steadying breath, you push yourself off the wall and move towards the door to head back into the bar. As you reach for the handle, the door swings open and hits you in the shoulder, turning you slightly to the side and spilling your drink on your shirt and the cobblestones of the alley.

“...again?!” you mutter, looking down at your ruined shirt.

“Um...are you okay? I can go get you a new shirt to change into-wait here!” you hear a male’s voice, but as you look up, the bar door is already closing again as he’s gone inside.

A minute later, the door is swinging open again to reveal none other than Jungkook-hair in a half bun, eyeliner smudged, and in a white undershirt and ripped jeans. Just like in your imagination.

He reaches out to you with a black t-shirt in his hand. “Yoongi’s pissed because these aren’t even ready to be sold, but whatever. Just think of it as an exclusive sneak peek or something,” he parrots your imagined scenario you had played in your head moments ago.

“Thanks,” you say as you take the shirt, unfolding it to see the familiar graffiti design.

“It’s the least I could do for a pretty girl whose Eagles tee I ruined, don’t worry about it. Yoongi will get over it.” Jungkook smiles at you the same way he did during the first half of the show. One thing your brain got right are the stars in his eyes sparkling at you, which makes you smile back at him.

“Hey, I need to get back to make sure we’re ready for the second half of the show, but it was nice to meet you. You should hang back after the show-Jin thinks your friend is cute, and he was talking about inviting her to come grab food with us when we’re done. Yoongi can’t come and I don’t want to be a third wheel. Come hang out with us and save me from dying of awkwardness?” he looks at you shyly, his rock star persona melting away completely.

“I’ll think about it,” you tease, turning away and heading back into The Dynasty. Jungkook is left wide eyed in your wake, smiling as he turns to head towards the backstage door.

You meet up with Margot again after changing into your new shirt. The crowd has started to gather in anticipation of the second half of the show. “Hey Mar, let’s move all the way up,” you motion at the space in front of the stage.

“Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?” Margot gapes at you in disbelief, but follows your lead as you weave through the crowd to get to front stage center. You shrug goodnaturedly and just smile as an answer.

A moment later, Jin, Yoongi and Jungkook come from backstage to get in place for the second half of their set. You can see Jungkook scanning the crowd, brows slightly furrowed. You give a small wave, which catches his attention, and his nose scrunches in a smile as he sends an enthusiastic wave back. ‘I like your shirt’ he mouths at you as he settles behind his drum kit, winking as he does so. You can feel the heat creeping onto your cheeks as a bar employee strides across the stage to the mic and the crowd starts cheering.

“Give it up again for Gold Rush!”

[sunshineandcybertronians]

It’s Nice to Have a Friend - (Secret Solenoid) TFP Starscream x reader

Word count: 5,599

Warnings: none

A/n: This is my Secret Solenoid gift to @sheabeeprime. This ended up way longer than I meant it to be. The ideas for what I could do just kept piling up and I decided to do all of them. And in true Scarlet fashion, I named this after a Taylor Swift song.

~

The view was amazing from where you sat on the edge of a cliff. Staring at the amazing view ahead of you. The wind in your face and hair. Just you, your thoughts, and the giant robot on your left.

Yeah, you honestly had no idea why Starscream decided to sit with you. And no idea why he always came to your home to pick you up when he was hunting for energon. Maybe he just needed company? Whatever the reason, an opportunity like this was too cool to pass down. So you tagged along whenever you were free. Which sometimes meant having to tell him you were busy or why you weren’t home when he came last. Though it was amazing how he would avoid being seen.

You didn’t know much about him. All you knew was that he was grumpy, had a huge ego, and his ex co-workers sucked.

You bit your lip. Today was the only chance for you to ask this. You pushed a strand of hair that flew in your face.

His helm faced forward, but his optics were on you. “What is it, human?”

“Hmmm?” You looked up at him as innocently as you could manage.

“’I know you were going to ask me something. Just ask me and get it over with.”

“Well,” you began, “There’s this parade going on…”

“And?” he raised one of his large eyebrows.

“It’s celebrating all the different countries in the world.”

“So?”

“I was thinking we could go?” You shrugged and gave a strained smile.

“No.” He immediately shot down the idea.

“But you could learn all about different human cultures.”

“Why would I want to learn about other humans anyway?”

“Wouldn’t simply knowing those kinds of things get you ahead of, and make you more knowledgeable than, the Decepticons?” you asked nonchalantly.

“Hah! You think saying that will make me go?” A look of amused triumph was on his face, but you could see the metaphorical cogs turning in his helm. He soon let out an angry and reluctant hum. “But I suppose I could take some of my precious time to come to your… ‘celebration of opposing humans’.” He waved his servo.

You let out a laugh. “We aren’t enemies or any like that just because we’re from other countries. Yeah, there can be some wars, but we’re mostly allies.”

Starscream gave you a perplexed look with his head tilted. Eventually, he just huffed and turned away, mumbling, “That doesn’t even make sense.”

You examined him, then shrugged. “Okay. But whether or not it makes sense to you, I’m honored you’ll bestow your presence upon the parade.”

He considered your words and, once he processed that it was praise, he puffed out his chassis with his helm held high.

There was a bit of trial and error in figuring out how to get there. You didn’t have exact coordinates and Starscream didn’t know where it was. Finally, you both decided on a method. You would give him directions while looking at a map on your phone. Once you steer him in the general area, you should be able to see the parade from the air. Upon this decision, Starscream jumped off the cliff to perform a flawless, midair transformation. He soared back up to meet you, showing off a few spins, and opened the cockpit for you to get in.

You eagerly got in and he took off. He shot through the sky like a comet, reaching up through a puffy white cloud, which resulted in a huge smile on your face. There was something amazing about being that high above the ground. Clouds stretching out made it feel like a new, hidden world.

“Which way?”

“Oh, right!”

 It was strange how people appeared so small from up above. The whole event would probably have seemed grander from the ground, but you weren’t going to pass up the opportunity to see it from the air. Especially with a giant robot.

“Wow. Look at it,” you commented. Suddenly, the rule of ‘if I can see you, you can see me’ came to mind. “Uh, are they going to find it suspicious that a jet is just floating here?”

“You tell me.”

You thought for only a second. “Definitely.”

Starscream maneuvered himself into a cloud, enclosing around him as though it were just a hologram. The nose poked out and there was a thin layer of cloud over the glass off the cockpit.

“You can still see, right?” he inquired.

“Yep. Thanks.”

You leaned back comfortably. The view was amazing. However the wonder slowly wore off and the silence began pricking at you. You almost wished for him to start complaining, or asking you questions, or for a radio. Though you doubted that he would enjoy human music. Or would he? Maybe you should try introducing some to him, but which genre?

“So what’s going on?” Starscream’s question brought you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, well people representing each country are walking in their group with a flag of that country. Like Italy, over there. They invented pizza!” You sat straight and pointed.

“What now?”

“Pizza, it’s a type of food that has cheese and tomato sauce an-“

“Nevermind. I don’t want to hear about the things you fleshies consume.” You thought you felt his alt mode shudder.

“Hey, if you were human, you would like it too,” you said. You fought the feeling of being offended that was taking over your thoughts.

“Then thank Primus I’m not.”

“Whatever.”  You crossed your arms and slouched back. “… But we do need to eat to survive you know.”

He hummed in reluctant consideration. “I suppose you’re right.”

Some time passed as you continued to sit there. Occasionally you would comment on a ‘country’ that was passing by. Sometimes he would ask about one. It was surprising how much your mind blanked out when you tried to talk about a country. You would have assumed that you wouldn’t have this problem considering you grew up on Earth.

A white flag with a circle and black lines on the corners caught your eye. You couldn't see the details from so far away, but you knew the circle was a blue and red yin yang. "Oh! That's the flag for South Korea."

"South? That sounds more like a location than a faction."

"Faction? What? Well, yes, it's a location. A location with its own government and own way of doing things. Like how you're a cybertronian. Because you're from Cybertron? Were you thinking about it like that? Factions?"

He hovered slightly higher then fell back into place. "How was I supposed to know? Cybertron had one government and leader. Much simpler."

"Hmmm." You considered the thought. "That's either really nice or there was a lot of corruption."

"Oh, you bet there was corruption. But does that mean there's a north, whatever it's called?"

"Korea. And yes, there's a North Korea. It split into north and south a while ago. North Korea has a dictator and isn't a place you want to go."

“What kinds of governments does each of these ‘countries’ have?” He asked.

“Well, the USA is a Democratic Republic. And there’s also socialism in some places, and at some point I think Russia was communist? Why can’t I remember anything?” You cursed yourself.

“Remind me why there isn’t one large government and leaders over the whole Earth?”

“That would be hard to do. A lot of people just wouldn’t agree to that. One of the reasons being that people want their own way of doing things. Since all of these countries formed on their own, having them all agree on giving up their own leadership to have a universal government is nearly impossible. There will always be someone who disagrees on how to run things.”

“It would be easier if someone just conquered the Earth.”

“You think people haven’t tried? There’ve been quite a bit of attempts, like Napoleon, but they all failed in the end. It’s a big place and people fight back.”

Another silence fell upon you both. You bit your lip as you scanned over the parade again.

"There's Japan. They have anime," you said.

Starscream finally lost his patience. “I’m not learning anything of use here! I’m just sitting here watching humans walk! The most informative bit was what you told me about North Kaon!"

"North Korea."

"Whatever it was! You expect me to remember all of these names?”

“Well, at least you can get an idea of what each country is like.”

“Admit it, you just told me to go because you wanted to come.”

“Maybe,” your voice rose an octave higher.

He scoffed.

“But,” you added, sitting up, “I did genuinely want to see it with you and show you a little more of Earth.”

“Why would I want to stay here even longer?!”

“I didn’t say that.” You looked at the gauges softly as if it were his face.

“Ah,” there was a nervous stutter present in his voice, “right.”

“Why did you come to Earth if you hate it so much?”

“It’s one of the last locations where we can find even scraps of energon. And you’ve come along to aid me enough times to know it’s important,” he said.

“It’s one of the only things you do.” You recollected everytime you were with him.

“Because ever since leaving the Decepticons ranks, I no longer have access to our storage or equipment to effectively find it. But I promise you, if it weren’t for Cybertron becoming a desert wasteland during the war, I would have never come to this mud ball.”

“Well. Even if you really wanna get back to cybertron, I’m glad I met you. And that I got to experience your awesome flying skills.” You tugged on a strand of your hair and ran your fingers through it.

There was  a brief silence.

“I mean, of course you would… How much longer did you want to see the parade?”

“Maybe a half an hour.”

“Hmmm. I’m going to be sore after hovering in the same spot for so long.”

“I could always rub your wings later if you want,” you offered.

“And let your grubby, little, fleshie hands on my magnificent wings? I think not.”

“Okay.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “It was just an idea.”

For a few more moments, neither of you said anything.

“Would you like to see a demonstration of my aerobatic skills later?”

“Actually, I would.”

A comfortable pause fell upon you.

“…Would you like to go down there?” he offered. He tipped his nose ever-so-slightly to the ground.

“Nah.” You leaned back in your seat with a smile. “I like it up here with you.”

 It had been two months and six days since you last saw him.

Yes, you were counting and had no idea why. Maybe he finally got tired of your fleshie self and left. Maybe you should have seen it coming with how much he disliked humans. Maybe you annoyed him so much that he decided to never see you again without a word.

Yet, when you truly thought about it, it didn’t make sense. He seemed to enjoy being with you, even if he never showed it outright. He was always the one who decided to bring you along when hunting for energon. Even when he was a giant robot, and clearly had some sort of prejudice against humans, it felt as though he still treated you as an equal to some degree.

But maybe he truly did get tired of you.

You stood by your window. The sun had dipped below the horizon and the last ghosts of light had faded away into darkness. You stood in your sweat pants and baggy t-shirt. Your hair was brushed and you were ready to relax. A warm cup of hot chocolate was in your hands, the warmth seeping into your skin. You stared into the cup, thinking of nothing in particular when you blinked at a sudden light.

Your eyes instinctively followed the light. Outside the window, hovering just above the ground, was a large, greenish blue, swirling vortex. You stepped back, but promptly leaned closer for a better look. It didn’t seem to be pulling anything into it. It seemed gentle, yet powerful. You would have found it beautiful if your mind weren’t preoccupied with confusion.

Something seemed to appear inside of it. It was tall, and metal and--!

You nearly dropped your glass mug. After placing it safely to the side, you grabbed a jacket and rushed out the door. You raced to where you saw the portal as fast as your feet would carry you. It was still there when you reached it. Starscream held a device in his hands and his red optics searched the area, as if looking for something.

“Starscream!” You ran up to him, nearly in tears. “Where were you? You’ve been gone forever!”

His optics avoided your eyes. “Well, I…” His mouth pushed into a thin frown. “I lost my T-cog.”

“You’re what now?”

“T-cog! It’s what allows cybertronians to transform.”

Your current expression dropped as it finally dawned on you. The reason he had suddenly disappeared. Then you remembered that there were other people nearby.

“Why don’t we go back through your portal thing and talk about it there?” You began to jog into the portal.

“Ground bridge.”

“Whatever it is.”

You ran while he walked in. The fact that the ground seemed to be made of swirling energy, though it felt completely solid, messed you up. You being smaller didn’t help either. You were running and still falling behind. After a half a minute, Starscream turned around to pick you up and carry you through.

A flash filled your vision and you had to blink several times to adjust to the dark, new area. The walls, ceiling, and floor were made entirely of metal. The only light source came from a dim glow from an foreign, alien screen. It was clear from the dust that no one had been there in a long time. The scale was so large that you felt confident that this was something cybertronians built.

The portal behind you shrunk until it vanished. Starscream lowered you down onto the ground. As soon as your feet hit the floor, you dashed to Starscream’s foot to give him the biggest hug you could.

“I missed you,” you mumbled. Of course, he might have not heard it if it weren’t for nearly every surface being made of metal, causing an echo.

His posture went rigid. He began to reach down to pat your head, then pulled his hand away. He stayed like that without moving a servo the whole time you hugged him.

“Ah… Me too.”

You let go. The cold of the living metal still lingered on you.

“Where have you been? How did…?” You stared up at him.

“I came across some other humans,” he began as he walked over for something to sit on. He helped you up onto it and you sat next to him. “I tried to asist them in building a cybertronian. I believed that they would allow me to keep energon I allowed them to find.” He stared at the floor the entire time.

Your eyes stayed locked on his glowing optics. “Build a cybertronian? Wait, if that was what happened, how did you lose your T thing?”

“I-They needed a t-cog in order to build a cybertronian. The one they already acquired was lost and they decided to take mine instead.” He almost seemed to curl up at the last words.

This settled on your mind like a ton of bricks. You didn’t say a word. Suddenly the room felt very heavy. The silence was like a suffocating blanket that you couldn’t seem to push off. You swallowed.

“They took… it? But, you could have fought them off easi-“

“They shot me with some sort of stun mechanism then proceeded to rip me open to take it!” His talons clenched into fists before him.

Once again, you couldn’t speak.

“Why is it that the first humans I meet, other than you, are no better than the Decepticons?”

“… Because some people can just be like that. Just like humans have potential for both good and harm, it seems like cybertronians are the same in that way.” You stared at the ground. “So… You can’t transform anymore?”

“No.”

“And that’s why you couldn’t fly back to me?”

“Not until I found the Harbinger and a portable ground bridge.”

You nodded. You pulled your legs to your chest and stared off into nothing. “That must stink. Not being able to fly.”

“It’s been terrible! How do humans survive like this?” He lifted his fists to his face.  His eyebrows, or whatever they were called, dug into his optics.

You shrugged. “We’re just used to it.”

The metaphorical blanket came back onto you, but somewhat more comfortably. Somewhat. You both continued to sit.

“… Are you upset about my not being able to transform?” Starscream cut through the silence. Almost so softly that you could hardly believe he was the one who said it.

“Huh? Well, yes,” you let go of your legs, “because you’re upset. I know how much you love flying!”

“But what about you?”

“Me?” You pointed to yourself.

“Yes!”

“I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“How do you feel about me not being able to transform?!” He stood up and spun on his heels to face you. His wings stuck up on point.

“Well,” you thought for a second, “I did enjoy flying, but it honestly doesn’t matter too much to me if you can turn into a jet or not. I’m just happy you came back.”

“Oh.” The frustrated expression fell from his face and he looked away. In any direction except at you.

“What’s wrong?” You straightened your back as if it would help you see what was up.

“Nothing, I think. I had simply thought that you only liked me because of my flight capabilities.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because Megatron only kept me alive because I was useful? It was always like that on Cybertron, and with those other humans. Once I become useless, I’m tossed away.”

You felt your heart twisted and your blood boiling. “I hate people who are like that. Forget them. They aren’t worth your time. I’m glad their out of your life.” You stood up. “And to me, as long as we get to hang out, I’m good.”

Starscream tilted his head. “You truly don’t make any sense.”

You shrugged. “The best people in life are free.”

“Huh?”

“People who don’t expect anything in return,” you elaborated. “They care and love you unconditionally.”

“I don’t believe anyone like that exists.”

“They exist. And so do I.” You confidently stared up at him.

His gaze darted between you and away from you. He took a few steps back, as if you were a mysterious creature that could become hostile or blow up any second. Eventually, he gave in to a beautiful, natural smile. And the room suddenly seemed brighter.

 “So, Starscream, I was thinking…” You walked into the room.

“If it’s anything about making a giant s’more again, I’m not interested.”

“No.”

Starscream had been feeling down, pun not intended, about losing his t-cog. You had cleared out two days in your schedule to have a sleepover with him. He had surprised you when you jokingly offered for him to brush your hair and he accepted. He also tried to braid it when you taught him how. It was surprisingly well done, considering the size of his talons, but still sloppy. You had to remind him that he wasn’t a failure at braiding. While laying in your sleeping bag and bundle of blankets you brought for the occasion, an idea came to you.

“I was thinking,” you continued, “that since you’ve been down about not being able to,” Starscream gave you the stink eye, “you know. So I decided it would be fun to do something similar to that one day with the parade.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I can’t fly you to another one.”

“No, not that. I mean that there’s this scout group doing a world presentation or whatever near where I live. They’re going to have cardboard stands set up for each country they researched about.”

“I really don’t think you’ve thought this through,” Starscream sighed, “I do not think these, or any, humans would react well to seeing a cybertronian.”

“I’ve already figured that out!” You bounced on your toes. “I’ll be carrying a camera that will stream video to you over here. That way you can see it without having to be there! And I have some earbuds so I can start a call with you and be able to hear and answer back if you have any questions.”

“Will the humans be suspicious about you speaking to no one?”

“Nope! They’ll just assume I’m on a call with someone, which technically isn’t wrong. So what do you say?”

 “Okay. So you can still see the video feed, right?” you asked while readjusting the camera on your hat.

“Yes, now stop shaking around!” Starscream’s voice came through your earbud. You swore that you would go deaf if this lasted too long.

“Okay,” you mumbled.

The sky was overcast. You walked into the building along with families that had come to see the scouts’ projects. There were tons of tables and three paneled boards lined up. People wandered around. They would stop to read, then turn and walk to the next one that caught their eye. It was clear which groups were family because they would greatly compliment the child’s work.

You figured you needed to start somewhere. It was a stange feeling to be there when you didn’t know anyone, even if the event was open to the public.

“Are we just going to stare?”

This snapped you out of your daze. You blinked for a second. Right, you weren’t alone. You had Starscream.

“Right,” you said and stepped forward.

You walked along the rows, glancing over them until one caught your eye. “France,” you said while pointing to the printed out flag, making sure your finger could be seen by the camera. “It’s in Europe. The capital is Paris. The population is 66 million.” You read off of it. You walked over to another. “Germany. It’s also in Europe. You know, maybe this whole row is European countries. Anyway, capital’s Berlin. Population is 83 million. Their currency is euros.”

“Ironic how these give more information than you did that other day.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes. Ironic.” You walked a few more steps and stopped. “Some place named Estonia. The flag looks cool.”

“It’s three lines of color, like the other ones.”

“I like the colors.”

“There’s a lot of writing and pictures on each report,” Starscream commented. “Did each of these children research, find the information, and organize it in a presentable way?”

“Yes?” your voice came out as more of a question.

“Impressive.”

You smiled. “Some kids don’t do scouts, but they end up doing things similar with science fairs in school. They’ll do experiments or research, and they they have to make a presentation about it, like a vinegar volcano.”

“A volcano?!”

“No, it can’t do anything dangerous.”

“Then what’s the point? I wouldn’t call that science.”

“It’s simple science that kids are able to do. You know, since they’re kids?”

You noticed one of the parents staring at you and you gave an apologetic look while moving your hair to point at your earbud. You continued walking and eyeing some of the posters to read to Starscream. You had gotten to the Asia section and did your best to pick out something to show him.

“And see? The rainbow bridge.” You pointed.

“Huh? Oh, yes. Very nice,” he said absent mindedly.

You quirked an eyebrow up, but eventually shrugged. He was probably getting bored with all of this. A part of you was beginning to wonder why you thought this was a good idea. This thought detracted you from the sounds surrounding you. You suddenly felt cold and like something was hitting you?

You looked around and suddenly noticed that the fire alarm had gone off. Loud beeps filled the room. Everyone was trying to get out. Kids looked in all directions in confusion. Adults tried to keep them calm and safely head out. Your clothes were beginning to dampen. Instead of trying to get out, your first instinct was to get out of the sprinkler. You crawled under a table and peeked out.

The last few people were almost through the door. That’s when you decided it was time for you to go, but something caught your eye. Something in one of the upper windows that lined the wall near the ceiling. Starscream? His red optics stared down at you and he signaled for you to stay there, along with whispering to you through your earbud. You were confused, but you hid under the table once more.

You waited until the water stopped pouring. Once it was over, you pulled yourself out and to your feet. You glanced around. That was rather sudden. And now there were puddles all over the floor.

A loud rattling echoed in the room.

You turned to see the large door, the kind you would see in a garage, at the back of the room open up. The temperature of the room changed to match outside. Starscream held the door up with a mischievous smirk. You took your earbud out.

“What did you do?”

“I may have gotten bored simply watching through a screen and decided to come. And I may have possibly started a fire, opened a window, and held it next to one of those fire alarms.” His grin grew with each word.

“Really?” You asked rhetorically with your hands on your hips. But you couldn’t help but crack a smile yourself.

“What? I was bored.” He shrugged and waved a hand.

You shook your head with a laugh. “Whatever.”

Starscream ducked in. He had to stay bent down to order to fit. You moved out of his way was he came in.

“So, you were actually interested in this?” you questioned.

“I thought it would be better to see it in person with you.”

“Yeah, but some fire trucks or someone else is going to eventually come back here and see you.”

“Hmm.” He looked back. “I see. But one look for a nanoklick couldn’t hurt. I just did all of this so I could see it anyway.”

“Okay.” You shrugged. “Just hurry.”

After his wing nicked the roof when he tried to straighten himself, he quickly realized that it was easier for him to be on his knees. As he got down on his knees, you helped direct him down in the small free space between the tables. The legs skidding against the floor echoed through the room and made you jump. You were surprised he was even trying to do this when he could barely fit between the rows.

He had to lean in close to get good look of the displays. He would occasionally ask you the meaning of a word he didn’t know. You had to admit, it was more fun to have him there in person. Unfortunately you couldn’t enjoy this for fear of being seen. You constantly looked over your shoulder.

Eventually your paranoia dropped by a few notches. Though, by then Starscream had gotten tired of being crammed in a small space and probably noticed your concern. It was awkward getting to the garage door, between him being unable to move much and him blocking you. But you made your way out.

He lifted the door and ducked under and out. You followed when you noticed him freeze. Confused, you followed his gaze. Your blood went cold and you felt as if your mind was being squeezed into a box.

Staring up at Starscream was what looked to be a five year old child. The little boy was alone, probably wandered off, and had an orange jacket and hat. His expression twisted into disbelief then fear. Your heart rate quickened when you saw his face wobbling.

“Scrap,” you let out as you both turn the other way in panic.

Starscream closed the door with a loud bang that sent a shiver up your spine. You didn’t noticed what Starstream was doing behind you, since you were already running on instinct. When he came into your field of vision again, he was twisting on one foot to regain balance and lifted up the remote ground bridge device. In his panic, he hesitated on which button to click, but quickly pressed it once he remembered.

“Is it a good idea to open it up in here?” you questioned as the piece of cybertronian technology swirled and grew before you.

“I would have preferred a larger space, but I don’t believe we have much of a choice.”

He scooped you up and pulled you through. Like always, you blinked when a flash filled your vision. The air suddenly changed and you were back on the Harbinger as the ground bridge closed behind you. When he held you to the ground and you finally collected yourself enough to jump off, you realized that three of the cardboard presentations had managed to come through along with you and Starscream.

You stood there. “Well, that was interesting.”

“One shouldn’t cause any problems, right?” He looked to you before his eyes darted back to where the ground bridge was.

“That was a kid. They won’t believe him. They might look around, but after seeing no giant robot, they’ll dismiss it.”

“That’s good to hear.” Starscream groaned and held his shoulder. “That made all of my joints stiff. And the tip of my wing caught on the top of that door.” He glanced at his wing with a slight pout on his face.

You stared up at him, taking a moment to consider your words before you were unable to take them back. “… Would you like it if I massaged your wings?”

His optics widened and darted around the area. “Fine,” you could barely hear in the midst of low grumbles.

You blinked twice before fully processing what that meant. As you were trying to figure out how to even reach his wings, he held out his hand. You stepped onto it and he carried you to a table or whatever it was. It was too large for you to tell exactly. You carefully got off of his hand and he sat with his wings facing you.

You sat with your legs hanging off the edge. Your hands reached out to his wings. He readjusted himself so you didn’t have to lean forward in order to touch them. Your fingers shook. You hesitated. Finally, your hand laid flat on it. It was cold. You didn’t know what you expected. It was basically like touching a regular piece of metal. You weren’t sure what you were expecting. But somehow it felt different. Maybe because he had trusted you to touch it. You began rubbing it soothingly. You prayed that you weren’t doing anything wrong.

He hummed as you rubbed patterns onto it. Although you were sure he could barely feel it, you saw him relaxing. There was silence for several minutes.

“Why are you so kind?” he said.

“Huh?” You did your best to peek around to look at his face.

“How can humans be like this? At least you and the ones you talk about. Those small humans, no matter how well they proformed with their research, were praised. And how can other humans get along well enough to be allies despite having separate territories and governments? How can anyone do anything for someone else without expected anything in return.” He turned his helm to you. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“No?” You tilted your head in confusion. “I just wanted to because it was the nice thing to do?”

“How? Why?” He turned his whole body, leaving your hands floating in the air. “Why are you always so nice to me? Has it ever occurred to you that you would get nothing in return? Especially from a grounded Decepticon defect?”

“I’m not looking for anything in return,” you started calmly. “I might get to learn about cybertronians, and do some cool things with you. And I get to spend time with you. I get that in exchange, but I’m not expecting anything more. Can you please accept that there are some people who are just nice? Who actually like you and want what’s best for you?”

His face twisted, as if about to argue. But paused, like he had never considered that before. He opened his mouth again, but closed it again, when no words would come out.

He eventually sighed. “I suppose I’ll simply have to trust you,” he said softly. He stared at you closely. “Your hair dried.”  

You suddenly remembered it had been wet from the sprinklers. He reached out and touched your hair, letting it fall on his talons.  Then he flinched back. “Uh… apologies.”

You reached out to pull his finger close to you and hug it. “It’s okay.” You smiled. “I like it.”

Starscream appeared shocked by this, but relaxed and smiled. A genuine smile.

[claudiasjeancregg]

and when you’re close (i feel like coming undone)

a west wing high school au, dedicated to @singingaboutwishingx and @thxngam for being supportive of this random piece! this is in no way finished, but i wanted to post what i have so far. don’t hate me if it sucks. title from taylor swift’s untouchable.

It didn’t happen like it would in the movies. They didn’t collide in a busy hallway with stars in their eyes, they didn’t form a spontaneous friendship before slowly realizing the depth of their feelings for each other, and they didn’t have the epic kiss during prom. Their hallway was a dusty classroom that the school newspaper had taken over, the spontaneous friendship was an uneasy partnership on the penultimate issue of the semester, and their prom was a party CJ threw to celebrate the semester finally ending. But, in the end, it was the same.

Josh had left the party, drunk on three shitty beers, accompanied by Sam and Donna as they planned how to get him home without getting them all grounded until way after college. Donna’s parents were still under the impression that their firecracker of a daughter was an innocent Midwestern girl, so she had to get home before the rest of them. Her sober state would ordinarily make her designated driver, if it weren’t for the fact that she still didn’t have her license. CJ couldn’t imagine being that young. They probably weren’t the best influences on someone who wasn’t legally allowed to drive, but it wasn’t like Donna gave a shit. She brought half of her mom’s vodka supply to the party without being asked, handing them to CJ with a nervous smile.

“Wow. So Midwestern hospitality really does live on in every generation,” CJ said with a smirk. She took one look at Donna’s nervous face and enveloped her in a hug. The younger girl seemed to let out a breath as she stepped inside.

Toby grabbed the vodka from CJ’s hands without asking, adding it to the pile of alcohol they had amassed. She stared at him.

“If it was $4 for each beer and $2 for each shot, more than 50 people, we made at least 300 bucks.” His fingers hadn’t stopped moving, tapping incessantly against his dark jeans.

“I spent—“

“60 for the beers and 20 for the stuff in the shots, I know. I haven’t even counted entrance fees.” Toby gave her what could almost be described as a smile, and her stomach dropped out like she was on a roller coaster ride.

CJ mentally shook herself— “Uh, I can count it by myself.”

“I don’t mind,” he said with an unusually earnest look in his eyes.

She moved next to Toby. They started to count the money, working in sync without needing to talk at all.

And then he stopped. Toby stopped, and turned to look at her.

“What?” CJ asked without turning, keeping her hands busy as a way to stop her mind.

“I- I think about you.” He turned to her, slowly covering her hands with his and looking at her. It felt like he was staring into her soul. “I think about you all the time, and I don’t know why, but I don’t want it to stop. You’re amazing, CJ. Not just at writing, or being Editor-In-Chief, but just at everything. You walk into a room and it’s like... I don’t know. It’s like everything stops. You make everything better.”

Her hands were stilled, now, and her mind was running at full speed.

Toby’s eyes were dark, dark like he was hiding a sky full of secrets like bright stars in his mind. God, he was beautiful. She’d never thought about a guy like that, especially not one in high school, but it was the only word that fit.

“Are you planning on telling me about your perverted fantasies or should I just assume—“

“No! Jesus, CJ.”

“You’re Jewish,” she quipped. She couldn’t stop smiling.

“Yeah, that doesn’t mean- never mind. I, it’s just not like that. Not that I don’t, God, look at you!”

“Toby.” CJ stared at him with an amused smirk. It wasn’t often that he was so... un-Toby. His sentences were ordinarily succinct and his voice sullen, but not right now. Right now, she was the one at a loss for words. But she had to say something, didn’t she?

“Start over. Say, say that again.”

“What?” She moved closer to him, the air between them crackling like an electric field.

“Say it again,” she whispered, placing a hand on his cheek. It was rough, like he had forgotten to shave before coming to the party.

“I think about you.”

CJ kissed him.

She grabbed Toby by the collar with her other hand and pulled him in, kissing him like all her problems could go away as long as their lips were touching. And for a moment, they did. His hands wrapped around her hips, pulling her closer and closer and closer until she could feel his heart beating. They were electric. She could feel it in every touch, every time he kissed her neck and she couldn’t help but gasp. And he didn’t seem to care— if anything, that spurred him on. She could taste the beer in his lips, could feel the calluses on his hand from years of writing. His hand slid underneath her black shirt, the one that awarded her a disapproving side-eye from her stepmom hours before. It felt like a distant memory, now. Toby splayed his fingers across her back and her breath suddenly disappeared.

How had she never noticed how good he was? How solid he felt under her touch, like she could put her weight on him and he would carry it— carry her— without hesitation; how he looked at her like she was a masterpiece instead of someone’s absentminded sketch. She was beautiful in his eyes. Somehow, she was perfect in his eyes. And to her, so was he. Toby was the road less traveled, the ground unbroken underneath her touch, someone who hadn’t yet learned her flaws and figured out exactly how to use them against her. He was good to her, and that was so refreshing. God, an hour ago she would have never imagined she would be making out with Toby Ziegler in her kitchen. She smiled, then, and he paused.

“What?” His voice was velvet in her ears, and it scared her how much she wanted him to keep talking.

“I just—“ she shook her head. “I’m glad you’re here,” CJ admitted. It felt stupid to say, but she did it anyway.

And Toby pulled her in, kissing her like she was a flower that bloomed under his touch. She felt the ghost of a kiss on her throat, and couldn’t help the giggle that came out. It was just so unlike him— the Toby that she knew, the one who yelled at Sam and terrified all the freshmen, was painfully hard to reconcile with the one touching her right now.

“Shut up,” he groused.

That did it. She cracked up— head thrown back, the perfect picture of a girl way too old to be this young.

Toby gave her a minute. He wasn’t offended by the laughter, like another guy might have been. Like other guys had been. That was CJ, that was how she was.

He lifted her up, carrying her onto the counter, and she gasped against his lips. As much as this could backfire tomorrow, she knew the truth as well as she knew her time. She wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

Getaway Car

Summary: Reader finally explains some things to Dean and enlists him to help them with it.

TW/CW: Dean Winchester x Reader. Angst.  

Requested?: Yes, a lovely Anon said, “Could I request a Dean x reader based off of the song Getaway Car by Taylor Swift??”

Word Count: 1,372

A/N: This one kicks off with a flashback which will be italicized. This is also probably not what you had in mind but this is all I could come up with. I’m sorry if it’s shit. Requests are open and as always love to all!

Prompt: Getaway Car by Taylor Swift

[A/N: I know I’ve used this gif before buuuut I like it so here it is again lol]

Your POV

    A group of bodyguards tear off after us as Bela and I take off running across the alley way to the parking deck where she says our getaway car is waiting. She leads me to a sleek, black, Chevy Impala and climbs into the passenger seat, I climb into the backseat and yell at the guy in the driver’s seat, “Go, go, go!” The guy peels out of the parking deck and I don’t bother to look back as we put distance between us and that building.

    Finally, after several hours, we stop at a bar where Bela and I have a car waiting which I go to get in but she heads for the bar, “I need food and a drink before we head out.”

    I sigh and follow after her as do the two guys to which the Chevy Impala belongs to. Once inside the dim light of the noisy bar, I make myself comfortable at a high-top table and am soon joined by the two guys and Bela after they put in orders at the bar. Bela takes a seat on my right and hands me a drink. I take a sip as the shorter of the two guys takes a seat to my left and the other sits across from me. Bela clears her throat, “I suppose introductions are in order. (Y/n), these are the Winchester brothers, Dean,” she motions to the one sat on my left, “and Sam,” finishing by motioning to the one across from me.

    I nod, “Nice to meet you. You guys hunters too?”

    They both nod and Sam answers, “Family business.” I nod in understanding as Sam and Bela drop into a conversation about some nerdy subject but Dean seems rather interested in me even though he’s pretending to pay attention to what Bela and Sam are discussing.  

    Sometime later, after the food has been delivered, thankfully Bela ordered me a nice, big, juicy burger, and we’ve eaten most of it Bela drops from her stool to go hustle in poker and Sam dips out to the car, mentioning something about grabbing a book for Bela. This leaves Dean and I alone. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice him watching me. I wipe my mouth and swallow the fries in my mouth, “What?”

    He shrugs, “Nothing, just wondering.”

    “About?” I inquire before tossing a couple more fries into my mouth.

    “How you and Bela met and why you still hang around her,” he replies, “She betrayed us pretty soon after we first met her.”

    I laugh, “She’s my cousin and she doesn’t have anyone else. It’s kind of hard to get rid of her.” He nods as he goes back to his food.

    The rest of that night, he and I spent getting to know a little more about each other and somewhere along the way, I found myself way too interested in him. That’s when I decided that I would leave tomorrow morning with Bela and pray that I’d never run into him again. Unfortunately, Bela had other ideas. When she later returned to the table, she announced that Sam had found the four of us a case and we’d be going with them the next morning.  

    I suppose that in retrospect, I should thank her. She set into motion one of the wildest rides I’ve ever been on. Dean and I grew pretty close over the span of just a couple of weeks and by the time Bela decided it was time to part ways from the Winchester brothers, I stayed behind with my boyfriend, Dean. All of that, however, led us to where we are now. I’ve just gotten back from a case a few days ago that I took on my own without telling the guys. It’s not the first time either. Every now and then I get uncomfortable being so close to them and I have to dip out for some time to myself.

    Mine and Dean’s relationship hasn’t been smooth sailing but it’s been manageable. The first few times I left without saying anything aside from a note that I’d be back soon and was on a case, he shook it off pretty quick but the more cases I took by myself, the longer it would take for him to shake it. I’ve realized that once again, my fear of letting anyone get too close has caused me to push him too far away. He’s hasn’t said a word to me since I got back from my case three days ago. I make my way to his room and knock softly on the door. He opens the door but quickly turns his back to me and sits down on the bed. “Dean, I-” I try to explain but he interupts me.

    “If you want to leave just leave. You can’t keep coming and going like this,” he doesn’t even look at me but I can hear it in his voice that he’s hurt.

    “That’s not it. I-” I begin trying to explain again.

    “Then what is it? Do you have another boyfriend that you have to tend to or something?” he asks heatedly.

    “Damn it, will you let me talk?” I respond in frustration, “I don’t have another boyfriend. I just get claustrophobic sometimes. It’s hard for me to withstand being as close with someone as I am with you for very long because my gut always tries to tell me that it’s about to blow up in my face.”

    “So, you’re saying I smother you,” he scoffs, “I get it I guess I just love you too much. That’s fine I’ll just stop that then.” There’s a strong tone of sarcasm and a tinge of spite in his words.

    “What the hell did you expect, Dean? You should’ve known from the jump that I have issues. Hell, the first time we ever saw each other, you were driving the freaking getaway car. Does anyone in our line of work ever actually manage to have healthy relationships and decent mental health?” I ramble, “I can’t help that nothing in my life has ever been good and permanent. I’m just conditioned to expect the worst.”

    “You don’t seem to be trying to change that conditioning. Am I not worth it?” he spouts back.

    I huff as I take a seat on the other side of the bed with my back to him, “Dean, I’m trying. I really am. Most of the time when I’m away I’m thinking of ways to fix this. I just never can come up with anything solid or that works because I just repeat the freaking cycle a few weeks later.” By now, I’m struggling to hold back tears. I really do want to try to make this work. I love him too much to just give up but it’s proving hard to do it alone. I know I’m hurting him and that makes me hurt worse because I can’t seem to do anything about it. “I can’t do it alone, Dean. If you still want me to stay then I need your help,” I whisper.

    He sighs and I feel the bed shift as he gets up and makes his way over to kneel in front of me, “I’m sorry. I should’ve said something sooner and been more cooperative about it. I just couldn’t help but think the worst.” I refuse to look him in eye and stare at my hands as he wraps them in his own, “Let’s start by communicating, okay? From now on when you need a breather just let me know so I can give you some space.” I nod and he lets go of one of my hands to raise my chin so that I am looking at him. “I love you. I’m right here and I’ll do whatever you need me to do to help you fix this.” I nod so he stands and pulls me up with him to wrap me in a hug. Maybe I can do it this time. I really want to get to where I don’t have to take breathers so much but that’s going to take some time. I’m just happy to have his help now.

Masterlist

Taglist: @emiijemii​ @akshi8278​ @deandaydreaming​ @castiels-majestic-wings​ @desimarie12​ 

[kimberly-spirits13]

Spirit (October 5)

Pairing: Tim Drake x reader

Synopsis: You and Tim are on a field trip, wandering around a new museum in France showcasing all of the great battles of WWI including some naval battles and ships. The only issue is that with being the child of Constantine, you start seeing things that most wouldn’t including the ghost of a lost lover still searching for his other half. (I honestly just made up this museum so don’t come at me for it not being geographically correct or even real cause it isn’t lol) (It’s also lowkey inspired by “Epiphany” by Taylor Swift)

Warnings: War death, mentions of the dead

Word Count: 1286

           Being the child of John Constantine was never easy. Especially not with balancing an education, demons, ghosts, myths, really anything paranormal, and just trying to have a normal teenage life. The only thing that really made it normal was that you had a wonderful boyfriend, what made it unnormal once more was that he was number one: the son of a billionaire and number two: Red Robin.

           Right now, you were walking through a museum hand in hand with Tim, learning of the naval battles of World War 1. You were very familiar with the history of most battles in recent war times. Major battles at least. It was something that you had taken interest in especially seeing as you were in places like this often and sometimes some of the things that you see wouldn’t make sense without prior more extensive knowledge of the past.

           Things started normally, you walked in and got with your class before heading into the halls of the museum. As these kinds of places typically are, it was dimly lit with holograms and lit images on the walls. You knew that something was probably going to happen, and as a result held closely to Tim. Not that he didn’t mind, it just worried him that you were nervous.

           “You good Y/N/N?” Tim asked as you rounded a corner into the naval battles wing. Outside was a memorial with scrap pieces of boats that were found in wreckage. You two were headed there next. Tim walked around, you following as he looked at all of the pictures of the ships. Tim was actually also interested in the battles and history as much as you. Just has it was exciting for you to see, he was having a blast. Hopefully, he wasn’t also noticing the strange people walking around in uniforms from the war.

           “Tim are you ready to go outside now?” You asked seeing someone that was bloodied from battle stager across the floor of the room, through one of the walls that led into the memorial room of the soldiers who died. Tim nodded and opened the door for you as the two of you walked out, your hair blowing around in the wind.

           You didn’t dress exactly like your father, you were however glad that long jackets were something that you had taken a liking to since your time traveling with him, even if they weren’t always trench- coats. Looking around, you didn’t see very many people, just a few lingering souls here and there, trapped wandering the field of scrap metal. Walking ahead, you didn’t notice how quiet it was until Tim pointed it out.

           “This isn’t exactly a place of restfulness Timmy.” You said, “Not at all.”

           “You’re seeing the people now?” He asked raising a brow, “We can always head back to the main part.”

           You walked towards a marker of a ship, watching the field and those moving around it, coat blowing in the wind. It was a striking resemblance to John whether you cared to admit it or not.

           “That isn’t necessary Tim.” You replied, “No one on either side is causing any trouble for once.”

           You walked ahead once more, stopping at a battleship part that seemed to be smaller and staggeringly hard to notice between the rest. You kneeled down at it, touching the material to inspect it.

           “There’s something so terribly sad attached to this.” You said softly, “Like an unmatched promise waiting to be fulfilled.”

           “What do you think the promise was?” Tim asked starting to walk beside you.

           “Promise to a distant lover it seems.” You stopped to think, “A promise to return or even- bloody hell!”

           “What?” Tim yelled as you launched yourself backwards, scrambling away from the marker.

           “You can’t scare me like that mate! Some of us aren’t as human as we look after all.” You said to something that he couldn’t see.

           “Oh Timmy, sorry, old Fred here just gave me a scare.” You said before chanting something that let Tim be able to see what you were seeing.

           “Y/N, what is this?” He whispered frantically in your ear.

           “Oh, pipe down Timmy, it’s just a spirit.” You rolled your eyes, giving your hand out to shake with the spirit.

           “You come from a powerful man, don’t you?” The soldier asked, “Someone of great magical and spiritual influence in realms unseen to the living man.”

           “I do indeed.” “Now, tell me, why the bloody hell are you still here?”

           “Your question I cannot answer myself.” The man said handing you a tarnished letter, “Read and see.”

           You opened the delicate piece of paper and started reading it for yourself. Tim wasn’t able to understand since things that were old and in a more ... dead realm, were not something that normal people could read. Your boyfriend, as remarkable as he is, was not exempt from this but you were teaching him the readings.

           A somber look fell over your face as you read further into the letter. It was from a lover in Britain, waiting for his return. This return however, would never come to be. Fred, a younger soldier in the war was killed by sniper fire upon storming an island in one of the battles.

           “And your lover?” You asked.

           “They await my return standing in the kitchen window, somberly looking over the shore, searching for my ship. P-please tell them where I am.”

           “You got that mate.” You turned to Tim, “This is going to take a minute, if you’d like to leave you’re welcome to love. I’m not sure what’s going to happen.”

           “I’ll stay.” He said noticing the uncertainty in your voice, “I’ll just be out of your way.”

           You got into a stance that was easier to hold the spell and created the map that your father uses when locating people. The one turn around here is that this person is certainly dead now and navigating this kind of thing without tipping unwanted guests off is difficult. Eventually, you did manage to locate the lost lover.

           “Florence?” You heard the spirit say reaching into the portal that you had created.

           “Please hurry into there before I have to close this.” You said after seeing what was happening.

           “Thank you.” The spirit said before walking in and leaving.

           As usual, the memories of the deaths and days before their deaths came into your mind making you stumble back from the intensity, Tim catching you.

           “Florence died of shock after hearing the news, they couldn’t take the news of their fiancé dying in battle. All I can see is the doctors running around her, her mother reaching for her hand under the plastic. Then... nothing.”  You said catching your breath, “Fred from a sniper on higher ground. The first time he was hit, it was a graze. Nothing too serious. He persisted through the bodies and fallen men drenching the field.”

           Tim didn’t say anything, he was too busy processing what he was hearing and what he had seen.

           “I don’t know why this was given to me, but there’s more like him, or at least, there’s more dead wandering around here.”

           You looked down at your phone that had buzzed the same time as Tim’s alerting you that it was time to head back to the main entrance.

           “You see this every day?” He asked bewildered.

           “Almost.” You answered taking his hand, “It’s something that I’m used to but you Timmy,” You ran you hand over his eyes clearing him of the spell, “You don’t need to see anymore.” “Especially inside of that place.”

Does anyone know of somewhere that lists all of Constantine’s spells from Justice League Dark DCAU?

[songtoyou]

PRomance - Part One

Paring: Chris Evans x Famous Reader

Rating: PG

Word Count: 1,436

Warnings: Slight mention and jabs at Hiddleswift.

Description: Chris needs some good press. He convinces one of his closest friends to partake in a PRomance. 

A/N: This idea came to me one night. It is pure fiction as I do not know what Chris believes when it comes to politics and policy issues. 

I do not permit my work to be to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Note: Updated for grammar and punctuation edits.

When it comes to overseeing a celeb’s image, implementing public relation arrangements can help manage the release and spread of information about a celebrity. Establishing a “PROmance” with another star is not about love but creating a higher and stronger profile towards the media and public. However, one has to be careful when entering into at PROmance. Fans and the media will be able to detect if it is all for show. The key to any successful PROmance is not to overplay or underplay one’s hand. Just look at how bad Hiddleswift turned out. While that pair made a lot of sense on paper, the way the two went about their “coupling” was too public and too staged. There was no balance when it came to Hiddleswift. They were also in your face with the paparazzi catching their first kiss, to meeting the parents, along with their romantic getaway to Rome. Does anyone remember the 4th of July pics at Taylor’s Rhode Island beach home? Tom still is not able to live that down with his ‘I Heart TS’ tank top.

If Chris were to partake in a PROmance, he and his team would have to make sure there would be no cracks showing. Chris was no stranger to using PR to help provide a cleaner image for himself. Thankfully, being attached to Marvel and Captain America had improved his image. He was no longer viewed as the playboy who got kicked out of a club. Now Chris was considered “family-friendly.”

On the one hand, Chris was excited to move on to the next chapter of his career. On the other hand, with his Marvel contracted complete, Chris no longer had the cushion of the company’s PR machine. He still had so much to do and achieve in his life. Chris always liked his freedom and being able to come and go whenever and wherever he pleased.

Since the beginning of his new venture with A Starting Point, Chris was able to garner press for the project, particularly about which politicians he interviewed for the website. When certain politicians posted pictures on their social media with Chris, some fans were upset. They did not like that Chris was giving politicians like Senators Ted Cruz and Marsha Blackburn or Congressman Dan Crenshaw publicity and allowing them to share their ultra-right-wing policies. Chris was getting called out left and right on Twitter. He was worried ASP was already in jeopardy before people had the chance to see what the website was supposed to accomplish. The backlash was pretty harsh that not even a cute picture of Dodge could help calm the storm.

Chris knew partaking in a PROmance was a quick way to divert the negative attention he received onto something else for fans to focus on and talk about on social media. With his PR representative, Megan, at his side, the two looked over a list of potential actresses willing to partake in this arrangement.

“It’s too bad Ana is already in a PR relationship with Affleck,” Chris teased. “She’d been a good choice since I already know her. Plus, we had surprisingly good chemistry on the press tour for Knives Out.”

“Yeah, Ana would have been a good pick. But what about her?” suggested Megan as she held up a picture of Lily James. “She’s pretty and played Cinderella in the live-action version. You’d have yourself a Disney princess. Captain America and Cinderella. The headlines practically write themselves.”

Chris thought about it as he looked at Lily’s picture. She was pretty but did not know anything about her. It was too much of a gamble to start a PR relationship with someone he did not know.

“In this day and age of social media, fans want something that comes off more transparent and honest. I don’t know this girl, and the fans will see right through it as they did with Lily Collins. Plus, another Lily? Really? No, I need someone who the fans are used to being around me and who won’t hassle her or make her feel intimidated. She needs to have a higher profile than me. That way, fans won’t accuse her of using me for fame. I think I have to go with Y/N.”

“Y/N! Really? Do you honestly think she would accept? She doesn’t normally do PROmances. Plus, you guys are close friends. Wouldn’t it be weird?” asked Megan.

“No, it shouldn’t be weird. Why would it be weird? Some fans ship us together.”

“It’s just… you two…have always had this ‘will they, won’t they’ vibe. It is weird how you would want to pursue a PROmance with Y/N and not a true romance. Am I wrong?” Megan raised another question.

“You aren’t wrong. But Y/N is one of my best friends. I know she will be there for me if I need and for this situation, I need her. I can make the call to Y/N personally,” Chris suggested, to which Megan agreed. She was not going to press the issue of her client’s harboring feelings for one of his closest friends.

But for Chris, this was business, and Y/N would understand. He sent her a quick text asking if she was available to FaceTime him. When a message from Y/N popped, Chris accepted.

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked him.

“Hi. Nothing much. I just wanted to say hi and see how you were doing.”

“Everything is going well. I have been busy with the talk show, which has been amazing. I’m surprised it has been a pretty easy transition from scripted television to the new daytime talk show host on the scene,” you shared with Chris.

He was not surprised that you were succeeding in your new venture. You had a personality that was likable and relatable. People enjoyed watching you. That was why you had been successful for so many years.

 “How about you? How are you holding up?” you asked, and Chris could not hold back his sigh.

“Oh…I’m doing alright.”

“What’s with that sigh?”

“Look, I am going to propose something to you, and…first and foremost…please know that I love and respect you. I would never pressure you to do anything you aren’t comfortable doing. But please know that what I am about to ask is because I desperately need your help,” Chris explained.

You felt your stomach drop at how sullen Chris was being. Your mind went straight to the worse scenario.

“Chris,” you spoke up and added, “Is Everything okay? You’re not like, sick, are you? You don’t need a kidney or anything, right?”

“What! No!” Chris then barked out a laugh. “I’m not dying, Y/N. Good Lord! Your mind sometimes…”

“Well, freaking eh man. You scared me there for a second,” you laughed. You were glad that it was not anything too serious.

“Okay, I’m just going to say it,” Chris began and quickly added, “I need you to partake in a…PROmance with me.”

There was a blank look on your face.

“First of all, what the hell is a PROmance?” you inquired skeptically.

“PROmance…it’s an amalgamation of PR and romance,” Chris clarified.

“Okay. Second, why are you still doing the PR dating bullshit? They never end up well. Hello, do I need to remind you of Hiddleswift.”

“Y/N, I would not ask you for this if I didn’t seriously need your help. It’s just a few outings here and there. We control the narrative. There won’t be any cracks for the fans or the media to see. We’ll be subtle about this situation. Alright? I need something else to distract everyone from the bad press ASP has been getting lately. Stepping out with you, a person people genuinely like, that will help take the edge of things.”

You could not hold back a groan. It was not like you were not prone to PR ploys in the past. You just made sure to steer clear of PR couplings as they never interested you and were a waste of time. However, Chris was one of your best friends, and you could tell he needed support. If it were a few outings with some assigned paparazzi tailing you both, then it would not be the worst thing in the world. As Chris said, you both would be in control of the narrative.

With a sigh, you told Chris, “Okay, I’ll do it. Let’s hope; for both of our sakes, this doesn’t end in a disaster. Both of our reputations and credibility are on the line.”

“We’re not going to fuck this up. We’re going to be smart about this whole thing. You have nothing to worry about, Y/N. I got you.”

[cxhnow]

Growing Up With Chloe x Halle

The Bailey sisters on why they didn’t switch up overnight — the world just caught up to their speed.

On their 2018 debut album The Kids Are Alright and on Freeform’s Grown-ish, a 19- and 17-year-old Chloe and Halle Bailey sang “Watch out world, I’m grown now.” So you’ll have to forgive them for acting out a little on their new sophomore record — they warned us. While Ungodly Hour might sound like a pivot to the grown ‘n’ sexy side of R&B similar to plenty of their peers, trading TKAA’s colorful doodles for chrome angel wings and skin-tight latex, they’re really just living the same truths they preached up and down TKAA: Own your insecurities, work hard, don’t get distracted by drama. “When we created this album, we said, Okay, we want to show all the different sides and layers of us,” Chloe tells me, sitting side by side with her sister, over Zoom from their family home in Los Angeles. “We don’t just want to show this one side. A lot of people still think we’re teenagers.”

Now 22 and 20, the former child stars are ready to explore the topics they’ve been singing about since they were kids making covers on YouTube, the ones that landed them a record deal with music royalty before they were old enough to vote. The new album calls out former flings, seethes with jealousy, and apologizes when necessary. Lyrics like “It’s four o’clock / you sendin’ me too many pictures of your …” and “No drama, no baby mamas” immediately started dating rumors online, roping in their Grown-ish co-star Diggy Simmons. While most fans are having fun with it, those a little, um, outside of the Baileys’ age demographic are still struggling (try to get through this Breakfast Club questioning without cringing). In case you missed it: They no longer have to change Beyoncé lyrics from “You showed your ass” to “You showed your butt” — on “Do It,” they proudly sing “I’m a bad girl, shake a li’l ass.” Alongside all the perks of growing up, the album makes sure to normalize the struggles, too.

When the coronavirus pandemic sent Halle home to L.A. from The Little Mermaid rehearsals in London, their house (complete with mom, dad, and younger brother, Branson) became their album rollout headquarters. One of the few albums to not be pushed due to the coronavirus, Ungodly Hour was originally planned for June 5, but the deaths of George Floyd in Minnesota, Breonna Taylor in Kentucky, and far too many others across the country, created a moment that Chloe and Halle felt they couldn’t ignore. They pushed the album one week, to June 12, and continued to use their platform to share petitions, funds, and awareness, while also personally signing petitions and making donations. As both an escape and work, they’ve been focusing their energy on the album, diving into elaborate DIY remote performances and mashing up songs, but making sure to leave Sundays for rest. After a busy weekend tearing up the BET Awards and Global Citizen virtual stages, channeling Aaliyah in one performance and going full rock and roll in the other, they’ll be back on Instagram Live this Thursday for Ungodly Hour Tea Time, where they often chill out in Snuggies, try to remember what day of quarantine it is, and update their supporters on their lives.

How has it been, emotionally, to have to sing and dance while all of this turmoil is happening? Halle Bailey: Emotionally, what’s keeping us afloat is music and feeling better through the art. I think that’s why we love music so much because even though we create it and we sing it, we use it as our healer, too. Everything going on really makes you reflect. But we’re young black women, this hasn’t been anything new to us. Our community has known about this for a very long time, and it’s constantly upsetting. But what I’m appreciating about technology and social media is that our voices can’t be silenced anymore. And the things that they used to try to hide, they can’t any longer. We’re seeing these injustices happen over video, and [so is] the rest of the world who’s usually ignorant to the racism that’s been underlying in this community. They’re seeing it and they’re upset as well. So it’s good because change can only happen when we’re all working towards a common goal. I can’t wait to see what comes out of this.

I feel like every time we have one of these moments where everyone is just mourning so publicly in such a communal way, there’s also music that uplifts us. Talk me through deciding to postpone the album.

HB:  During the height of the George Floyd protests, emotionally, we just were not right to release a project. Our little brother and our father — when we see a video of George Floyd getting killed in the street, we think that could be them tomorrow. And we wanted to shine the light on what needs to be seen. That George Floyd video, Breonna Taylor, all of the other brothers and sisters that we have lost to police brutality — that is what needed to be at the forefront and what still needs to be at the forefront.

And when The Kids Are Alright came out that was right around March for Our Lives, the Women’s March was happening. How does this moment compare for you?

Chloe Bailey: Wow, now that I’m thinking about it, this time, it feels a bit more like change is really going to happen. Around The Kids Are Alright, we went to the March for Our Lives and we were around that incredible energy; it was really positive and uplifting because we were all banding together. But for some reason, this time right now … I feel like we have the entire world’s attention. Actual change is going to come out of what’s been happening. So, it feels the same but different, right?

HB: Yeah, I definitely think this one feels more massive. Feels like, Okay, maybe we’re getting somewhere this time. Maybe it won’t just go away a week after all of this is over, you know?

In the early stages of Ungodly Hour, did you go in wanting it to be something that showcased your maturity? Or did that come out as you were going with it?

HB: We absolutely knew that we wanted it to showcase our growth, the evolution of us into young women. Because I feel like The Kids Are Alright was very much us finding ourselves and that project took three years to make. So with that length, you can kind of go through and see like, Oh, wow, they must have been really shifting through and figuring out what’s wrong and what’s right. So, for this project, it was like, Yes, we are here. We are now grown women. I’m 20. My sister’s about to be 22 this week.

CB: Hey!

HB: So we took that and we were just like, Let’s show who we’ve become. And let’s show the side of us that people don’t see whether it’s the naughtier side of us or the insecure side of us, or the part that picks every single thing apart about ourselves out. We wanted to show all the layers of us as young women, once you kind of know who you are, but also you’re still learning.

You’ll never be a finished product.

CB: Never, constantly evolving. And that’s the goal.

There have always been glimpses at your boss-bitch attitudes, hints of it in your music and on Grown-ish. Do you ever get the sense that you’re waiting for the industry and fans to sort of open their eyes and catch up to where you’re at?

CB: I’m not gonna lie, there are some moments. And I remember when we were even creating this album we were putting a certain pressure on ourselves. Because we were thinking, What do we want the world to hear from us? What do we think the world wants us to sound like? What would make people become more receptive to us? I remember we were creating for, like, one to two months in that mind-set, and we were creating some of the worst music we ever have.

HB: Yeah, it was. It was trash.

CB: It was because we weren’t creating from our hearts. We weren’t being honest with ourselves, and as a musician, you gotta be vulnerable and share that true part of yourself or the music isn’t going to be very good. Once we threw that out the window and said, You know what, let’s create a good body of art, the album continued to write itself. But that main lesson for us was never change yourself; the world will catch up to you when it’s ready. I feel like they’re kinda ready now for this project. It’s older and more mature than The Kids Are Alright because we’re older and more mature than who we were when we created that.

In making a more vulnerable album, were you nervous about expanding your image in that way? Was there anything that you debated not including or things that didn’t make the cut?

HB: Wow, so, I will say that our parents kind of had a hard time … well, not a hard time, but just like opening their eyes to the fact that, Okay, these are the topics that we’ve decided to talk about. This is what’s happening. It was really fun for us to watch them. I completely understand how they feel because, you know, we’ve been just little babies to them and now we’re growing and they’re hearing [about] certain things that we’ve been through, or that we just wrote in the music. They have been like, “Oh, okay, so that’s that.”

Fans tweet collabs at you all the time, but what’s your actual approach to choosing who you work with? (Ungodly Hour features just two major collaborations: Swae Lee on “Catch Up” and the title track with Disclosure.)

CB: Definitely we have to be fans of them, number one. Even though we make music, we are such big music fans and music lovers. Two, we have to feel like the person can sonically fit the song. We don’t want to throw just anyone on a song just because they have a big name, which is really cool too. It’s really great to get big features. But it’s so funny because we have a big wish list of who we hear on which songs and some people bite, some people don’t. It’s always fun to see what the end result will be. And I know we’ll start putting out remixes and stuff soon, which will be fun.

HB: It’s very interesting because it’s hard during the creative process. You kind of have to open yourself up to somebody you do not know when you make music; it’s a part of your heart that you’re sharing. So, it’s a very intimate thing to do with a stranger. Which is why with my sister it’s really easy. But when it comes to us working with new people, we gravitate towards the ones who have very open spirits and souls, nice people.

Chloe, would you ever produce for other artists?

CB: Absolutely, 1,000 percent. That would be so much fun. I would be getting out of my comfort zone, because the only person who I can comfortably produce in front of is my sister and blast it loud over the speakers. Whenever we have other sessions with other producers and we’re collaborating, I’ll put my headphones in, I won’t blast it on the aux with theirs. I have my little computer on my lap because I like using weird sounds and samples and chopping them up in a weird way. Sometimes it’s trial and error, so I don’t want people to hear my mistakes.

HB: She’s amazing and she should just blast it everywhere she goes, okay?

CB: I would definitely love, love, love to do that.

Yes, we want to hear you everywhere! So, when shelter in place started, you guys very flawlessly transitioned to doing these home covers and incredible remote performances. What’s the process of coming up with these concepts, especially the more elaborate ones?

HB: Oh my gosh, it’s really just a bunch of play. When we’re coming up with concepts, our creative director Andrew Makadsi is really amazing at seeing our vision for the songs before we actually perform them live. It’s been really interesting and exciting to have new songs to play with. But as far as the covers, you know, those are easy. We can do those in our sleep; we just love singing other people’s songs.

How long does it take to pull together a remote performance like the Today show one for example?

CB: Our amazing creative director came up with that and it took him a day. He just kept sending us a bunch of references and photo ideas he thought of and we picked the backdrop we wanted. The song arrangement, because we always like to switch it up every time, takes —

HB: Like a day.

CB: It takes us like ten minutes to arrange the songs. But then we took some of the choreography [by Kendra Bracy and Ashanti Ledon] that we learned during the music video shoot, and we added new choreography ourselves for the Today show performance. We were like on the floor and stuff — we did that the night before we filmed it. That took us like 30 minutes because we wanted to make sure the moves weren’t awkward because we’re not choreographers, so we would prop up our iPhone and that would be our little dance-studio mirror.

You guys are really doing it by yourselves in quarantine. So, what’s the tennis court situation? Has that always been there?

HB: Yeah, it has actually, we just haven’t really used it. I mean, we’ve been where we live for about two years now. We never really thought to use it until quarantine happened ‘cause we always go somewhere else to shoot performances. That’s been a beautiful evolution — using what we have. We feel so blessed to just be able to do what we love and also do it somewhere nice.

The tennis court performances have been life-giving.

CB: It’s been so useful, from the at-home photo shoots we have to do and then the performances, like I’m so grateful. We don’t actually know how to play tennis, but there are basketball hoops on each side so our little brother Branson’s usually out there. So, when we do have to do these things, I feel bad because he’s always out there shooting hoops, but he’s like, “Okay, you can have it for two hours …” [x]

[benhardyisdaddy]

cherry

MASTERLIST 

(hope you all like this sksksk WHY CANT I UPLOAD GIFS OR PICS TO THESE POSTS IM SO MAD UGH also there’s not so much smut, just mostly implied lol) 

Word Count: 3,104

WARNING: prostitution

The windy streets of New York could almost be too much on a freezing night like this. Although you wish nothing more than to be back at your apartment, with some warm pajamas on and some hot cocoa in your hand - this was your job. You were allowed to wear a coat, but pants or long skirts were prohibited. You currently had on a tight black dress that barely covered your butt. 

You thanked yourself for opting for the pair of black knee high boots you were currently wearing. Your hair hair was perfectly done as so was your makeup. You looked like something that came right out of the movie Pretty Woman. You were pleased with your appearance and knew that you would get some high paying clients. At this point, you didn’t care if they paid decent or not - you just wanted to go somewhere warm for a while.

“Fuckin’ freezin’ out here. They tryna kill us?” asks your good friend Gina. 

Gina was her real name, but everyone called her Bambi, especially her clients. She has big doe like eyes, so the name fits her perfectly. Your nickname for your clients was Cherry, due to your signature bright red lipstick you would wear. Gina worked on these streets a lot longer than you. She took you under her wing when you first started and immediately since then you’ve been best friends - now roommates. 

“I know. I can’t feel my hands.” you say, your voice trembling. 

Your nose was ice cold and your eyes were burning from the harsh wind. You were looking around and spot a man parked in a nice SUV just across the road. He looked older and was staring directly at you. When you made eye contact with him, he looks nervous as he gets out of the car and makes his way across the semi busy road. It was your time to shine. 

“Hi, baby.” you purr as he walks up and looks around nervously. 

Gina watches the man and winks as he looks over to her. He gulps hard and reaches for his wallet in his back pocket. 

“I, uh…” he starts as he opens it up. “I only got 20.” he tells you.

You’ve been told to never accept a 20 or lower. It was one of the rules. 

“Sorry, baby. I’m worth more than that, don’t you think?” you ask with a wink.

The man’s face gets red as he’s embarrassed. His jaw tenses as he looks to Gina then back to you. 

“She took a 20 last time. Why can’t you?” 

You’re shocked for a moment as you turn to look at her. She looks irritated as she shakes her head no and walks up. 

“I’ve never seen you in my life, pal. Now cough up some more or leave my girl alone.” she spats. 

The man then gets irritated and reaches forward to grab your arm. Gina shouts out as you use your small clutch and start smacking him with it. Just then, you hear a shout and watch as an older man with a white beard hurries up and shoves the man back until he’s fallen onto the ground. 

“Piss off!” he shouts as the man scrambles to get back to his car. 

The older man looks to you and his eyes can’t help but look you up and down, slightly taken aback by your clothing choice. 

“Are you alright?” he asks sincere. 

You can’t break away from his blue eyes. This man was at least forty or plus years older than you, yet you were almost drawn to him. 

“Thank you.” you tell him in your fake seductive voice. “Anything I can do to repay you?” you purr as you bite your lip and walk closer to him. 

The man smiles sweetly as he realizes what you’re line of work is. He looks to the corner of the road and then back to you. 

“Let me buy you a cup of coffee, yeah? You must be freezing.” he says as he looks back down to your bare legs. 

You were freezing. Hypothermia would kick in at any moment you thought. You look back to Gina and watch as she’s talking to one of her regulars. You look to the man and smile slightly. 

“If that’s what you want.” 

***

“Men can be such dogs.” he says as he orders two hot coffees. 

The coffee shop is warm and inviting. You look beyond out of place as people stare at you. Women roll their eyes and men practically drool, but everyone whispers. You didn’t fit in at such a nice place like this. You were an outcast. 

“That’s an understatement.” you laugh as you both sit down in a small booth in the far back corner. 

The man watches as you peer around the cafe. 

“I’m Roger.” he says as he holds out his hand - a hand that you can spot tattoos on.

You stare at it for a moment and then back to him before reaching out as well.

“Cherry.” you say, using your fake name. 

Roger looks half shocked by the fake name choice. 

“Is it because of your lips?” he asks as someone brings the coffee to your table. 

You raise a brow and smirk as you lean closer, allowing your cleavage to be exposed and push against the table for him to see - which he clearly does. 

“You like my lips, Roger?” you purr. “I can show you exactly what they can do.” 

Roger’s taking a sip of his coffee as he chokes a bit and coughs. You just continue to smirk as you lean back against the booth chair. 

“Do you like what you do?” he randomly asks, causing your smile to fall. 

You weren’t expecting a question like that. You’re taken aback as you awkwardly laugh and then just shrug. 

“Bit personal, don’t you think?” you ask, not knowing how to answer. 

Roger understands and nods his head. 

“Listen, would you like to keep me company for dinner at my hotel? I’m here in the city all alone and could use the company. I’ll pay hourly if you want.”

Okay, you’ve never been asked that before. You were mind blown by the sincerity behind that question. 

“Are you trying to murder me?” you ask as you lean forward, your eyebrows knitted together. 

Roger’s eyes open wide for a moment before he laughs. 

“I didn’t think inviting a beautiful girl back to my place for dinner would come across as me wanting to murder you, but I reassure you, no. I’m not.” 

He has a sense of humor. You like that. You smile slightly and then nod as you stand up fast, grabbing your coffee. 

“Alright, I’m starving.” is all you say before walking ahead of him and outside. 

Roger jumps up and hurriedly places his money on the table and rushes after you. 

***

“You’re willing to pay me hourly to just… Spend the evening with you?” 

You’re in the passenger side of his vehicle as he drives through town. His car’s a sports car that you knew cost thousands. Something you always dreamed of having.

“I’m sure other man pay more for worse things.” he teases back, causing you to agree and laugh. 

“Alright,” he starts as he pulls in. “Here we are.” 

You look up the hotel and your face falls. Your eyes are wide and your mouth’s hung open. 

“Holy shit!” you say loudly. “You’re staying at the Four Seasons? Do you know how much this place costs a night?!” you ask completely dumbfounded. 

Roger just laughs and nods as he parks his car in front of the building as valet rush to open the door from him and you. 

“I would hope I’d know. I am the one paying for it.” 

Your door opens up and as you step out, the valet men are staring at you. A woman walks by with a small child holding her hand. The second she sees you, she makes a disgusted face and promptly places her hand over his eyes and hurries inside.

“You go on inside and get warm. I just have to fill out some paperwork for valet.” 

You’re still in shock as you nod and slowly make your way inside. The lobby was huge and beautiful, more beautiful than you had imagined. It was clean and brightly lit as people were dressed up from head to toe. A woman at the front desk watches as you enter and her sweet smile falls into an annoyed one. 

“Ma’am?” she asks as she walks away from her desk and up to you.  

You look to her fast and smile. 

“Ma’am, may I help you with something? Are you lost?” 

Your smile falls as your cheeks turn red. 

“Not lost.” you say back. “Waiting for someone.” 

“Do you have a room with us?” she asks with a snarky tone. 

She knew exactly what your answer would be. 

“Um, no, but-”

“Well then I’m gonna have to ask you to leave the building. We just cleaned the floors.” she says with the rudest smile you’ve ever seen. 

“Excuse me?” you ask, your voice echoing. “I’ll clean these damn floors with your face-” 

Just then, Roger is behind you with his hand on your lower back. You stop talking, but are glaring at the woman. Her face shows that she's frightened from the threat you had just made and you didn’t care. 

“She’s with me.” he says fast. “I didn’t realize that’s how this place treats guests. You should be beyond embarrassed.” he says angry. 

“Oh, Mr. Taylor! I am so, so sorry!” 

She keeps trying to talk to him as he rolls his eyes and walks away with his hand still on your back. You look back to the woman and smile sarcastically while mouthing ‘bye’ and waving your hand. The two of you make it to the elevator and wait for it to open. Once inside, you lean against the wall and close your eyes, sighing to yourself. 

“I’m sorry about that.” he says softly. 

You look to him and smile while shaking your head. 

“Not your fault. I’m use to it. Trust me.” 

Roger wants to say so much more to you, but he doesn’t as the doors open up once more. You all walk out and you follow him to his room. He opens the door and in you walk. Once again, your mouth falls open. The room he’s in is like a small house. There’s a living room, a bedroom, a kitchen, two bathrooms and a built in sauna.

“Wow,” you whisper as he shuts the door behind him. 

The bedroom portion is connected to the living as it sits there wide open. You smirk to yourself as you walk over and crawl onto the bed, laying on your side. You eye Roger as he watches you with a faint smile on his lips. 

“Wanna join me?” you ask. 

He smiles even more as he turns around and walks away. 

“Want a drink?” he asks, ignoring your question.

You’re confused as to why he’s not completely melting at your tricks. You roll your eyes and nod. 

“Sure. Whatever you’re having.” 

He brings back a drink and you both sip on it for a moment before he speaks up. 

“You never answered my question from earlier.” 

You look up confused. 

“Do you like what you do?” 

You tense your jaw as a smirk fills your face. You place your drink down and slowly make your way over to him. Roger gulps hard as he lowers his drink and watches you. You press yourself against him and fiddle with the black tie he’s wearing. 

“I’m sure you’d like what I do.” you purr. “How about you make the most out of that money you’re spending, huh?” 

As you’re saying this, your hands are down at his belt buckle and slowly undoing it. Roger’s hand reaches down and stops them. You look to him utterly confused. 

“That’s really not why I invited you here.” he says softly. “When I saw you, before I knew what it is you… do, I wanted to meet you. Talk to you. Get to know you.”

Your heart melts as he explains everything to you. You remove your hands and take a step back - your eyes never leaving his. 

“You really don’t want anything?” you ask softly. 

“I really don’t.” he says back sweetly. 

You’re both quiet for a moment as you walk back to the couch in the living room and lean against it.

“No.” you say, confusing Roger. “No, I don’t like what I do. It makes you feel like less of a human the more you do it and now… I don’t who I am anymore. I put on this persona of Cherry and… It’s like I get lost in it.” 

Roger’s surprised that you actually had opened up to him - a complete stranger.

“Why do you keep doing it?” he asks, walking closer to you. 

“Because… Because I work for someone and they would be beyond pissed off if I left. I’m too scared I suppose.” 

Roger walks all the way up to you as you take in a deep, shaky breath. Something about him took your breath away. You look up and stare into his eyes as he does the same. 

“You’re a very beautiful girl.” he whispers. “Let me help you.” 

As he says those words, the wall you had built was put back up. You were angry as you stood up straight. 

“I’m not a charity for you to feel bad for!” you spat at him. “I don’t need your pity help!” 

You go to walk around him, but not before he grabs your wrist and pulls you back to him. Without thinking, you lean forward and kiss him. His hand’s cupping your face as you moan against him. The kiss was slow and sweet, the opposite of what you’re used to. Roger was taking his time with you. He hadn’t even been the one to start the kiss - you had. After several more moments, you both lean away to catch your breath. 

“I’m sorry.” he whispers. “I wasn’t planning on that happening.” 

You just smile and shake your head. 

“That one’s on the house.” you tease, causing him to laugh. “Kiss me again.” you whisper. 

He listens as his lips are back on yours. This was the first time in a very, very long time that someone had actually wanted to kiss you and not because they paid you to. The whole mood was different from previous hookups and it made this warm feeling in your belly spark up. Being wanted and not tossed to the curb afterwards was a good feeling and you didn’t want this to end. 

“We’re not on the clock anymore.” you sigh against his lips. 

Roger’s hands were perched on your hips as he squeezes. You had began slowly walking backwards towards his bed. He stops and leans away, slightly shocked. 

“Not on the clock?” he asks. 

“I don’t want your money.” you tell him. “Right now, just you.” 

Roger smiles and resumes him kissing you until you’re all the way to his bed. The back of your legs hit it and you fall backwards. You laugh loudly as Roger stares down at you - admiring you. This was also a first. In the eyes of every man you’ve been with was lust, but with him, it was different. Lust was nonexistent and replaced by something you weren’t sure of. What you were sure of was that, when the morning comes, you’d be tangled with Roger in bed.

***

You were right. 

The sun attempted to shine through Roger’s hotel’s curtains. Your limbs were tangled up as your naked bodies pressed together. Roger hums as he begins to wake up and squirm around, causing you to do the same. You stretch and yawn as you look up to a sleepy Rog. His hair was crazy, but he looked none the less gorgeous. You couldn’t help but smile. 

“Good morning.” you whisper. 

“Mmm, good morning.” he whispers back. 

“Sleep okay?” you ask as you sit up on your elbow. 

“Like a baby.” he teases. “How about you?” 

“Well,” you start with a smirk. “From what I can remember, we didn’t do that much sleeping.” 

Roger smiles and raises his brows as he nods his head. 

“For an old man, I’m surprised I could stay up that late.” he teases. 

You have a serious look on your face as you bring your finger to his mouth and cover it. 

“Don’t call yourself that. Understood?” you ask seriously. 

Roger can’t help but smile as he nods. 

“Yes, ma’am.” he jokes, causing you to laugh. 

Your smile faintly falls as you look down and think. 

“Were you serious about helping me, you know, get out of this?” you ask. 

Roger knows exactly what you’re referring to. 

“Cross my heart.” he tells you as he sits up as well.

He makes a x motion over his heart as you laugh and bite your lip. 

“Cross my heart.” you whisper as you make the same x motion. 

Roger stared at you with the crinkling of his blue eyes. You smile and suddenly think about Gina and how worried she must be. You sit up fast and search for your outfit that was thrown across the floor. 

“I should really be going.” you say sadly. “My roommate probably has all of New York looking for me.” 

Roger gets up from bed and dresses quickly with you. 

“Wish you didn’t have to leave.” he admits, causing you to look at him and smile. 

“Don’t think this is the last of me you’ll see.” you tease. “But next time, it’ll be double.” 

Roger smirks and walks up to you and places his hands on your hips.

“Oh will it?” he asks. “I’d pay anything to see you again.” 

You bite your lip as you smile and lean in to kiss him one last time. 

“I put my number next to your bed.” you tell him as you walk away towards the door. 

You open it up just as he calls out for you. 

“I still don’t know your name!” 

You turn around and watch as he anxiously waits. 

“Y/n.” you tell him with a smile and then you’re gone. 

You were confused about what had replaced the look of lust, something you had been so used to seeing, in Roger's eyes. You just didn’t know that eventually you would understand that look like the back of your hand. 

Love. 

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[the-girl-from-number-4-blog]

I Read the News Today, Oh Boy

Roger Taylor x Reader

On the subject of artifice

Word Count: 7k! (concise? what does that mean?)

(i feel so so so bad that it’s taken me so long to post. also this was a request from @fairlysuitehearts a long long time ago, which makes me feel even worse for putting off - i wanted to get the story down! and it’s probably still shit, but i hope you like it anyway)

“THIS JUST IN: Y/N AND ROGER TAYLOR SHARING NOT-SO-SECRET GLANCES AT ALBUM RELEASE PARTY: PUBLIC DECLARATION SOON?

Y/N L/N and Roger Taylor were seen together at the celebration of the release of rock band Queen’s fifth album, A Day at the Races. 

The couple arrived together and were reportedly seen holding hands as they left the vehicle. Sources say they remained close throughout the night, and.....”

As you read the latest article in the gossip column, you grumbled lowly to yourself, shaking your head. The nerve of these journalists was preposterous and, quite frankly, impressive. You could never bear to be so invasive of another’s privacy, and even if you could, you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to display such little shame. 

“What’s the matter?” Roger Taylor himself, the man who (rumor has it!) you’ve been dating for about a year (when will they reveal their obvious relationship?), asked you as he entered the recording studio. 

You sighed, tossing the magazine onto the coffee table. “They keep publishing this shit, but they’re just pulling it out of their arses for how much truth there is.”

He approached you, peering over your shoulder to look at the discarded tabloid. “So I see we were quite intimate at the party last week,” he chuckled. “I feel like that’s something you should have told me, Y/N. Why’d I have to find out this way?”

You backed into him purposefully, knocking him just enough off balance to allow you to spin around and face him. “Roger, seriously, this is ridiculous. How can you take this as a joke?”

You and Roger were not in any relationship. You were the band’s assistant and very close friend, but never anything more. You expected, when you took a job with one of the most promising figures in the music industry, that there would be a certain degree of unwanted publicity - but never to this degree, with such little veracity. 

“Nobody believes this stuff, you know,” he dismissed. “Can’t see why you let it get to you.”

You let out a frustrated huff. “You don’t get it. I’m getting calls every night from my family, just begging for details about our relationship - which, might I add, I simply cannot seem to convince them is entirely fabricated! You can’t tell me nobody believes it.”

“It’ll die down eventually,” he waved his hand. “Won’t be too long.”

He obviously didn’t understand how this was affecting you. It wasn’t the same with him; so what if people think he’s got a girlfriend? It gives him more publicity, and the groupies at his concerts certainly didn’t care that he already has a girl waiting (which he didn’t, but who were they to know that?)

You, on the other hand, were blacklisted from any other major music production company. After the entire debacle started, you’d looked into getting a job somewhere else (secretly, of course, as you were sure the boys would protest), just so the rumors would stop - but you were now known throughout the industry as the girl who shagged Roger Taylor to keep a position. 

You eyed Roger carefully. He really didn’t know how this impacted your career. He didn’t know to what extent this grounded you to Queen (not that you wanted to leave, per se, but it was always nice to have options), or how much of a bother it was that your mother wouldn’t talk to you anymore, since you’ve been “lying” about your love life for a year. 

You knew that something needed to change; you just didn’t know what. 

It was a chilly January morning, when the sun was hidden behind the heavy London clouds. The coffee holder in your arms warmed your hands a bit, but it was still too cold to be comfortable. 

Roger walked beside you, holding the second half of the order. It was Roger’s turn to get coffee for the rest of them at the studio, and since you usually didn’t go for caffeine but felt particularly drowsy that morning, you decided to tag along. He didn’t look nearly as cold as you, which was maddening. 

For all that it annoyed you to constantly be thrown into the limelight for your completely fictitious relationship with him, you quite enjoyed spending time with Roger. He was a charismatic man; when he was happy, which was often, his enthusiasm for life radiated from him, and permeated your own skin, making you feel the same way. He was a great pick-me-up, a natural and (probably not) unaddictive stimulant. 

Roger looked around as the two of you crossed the street, and you wouldn’t normally notice something so commonplace that, except he kept tossing his head back in the same direction. 

“What is it?” you asked.

He leaned in close to you. Speaking soft whispers into your ears, he sent warm breath which flirted against your neck like the wings of a hummingbird, sending a cascade of shivers down your spine and making the cold seem suddenly a touch more bearable. 

“Don’t look, but there’s a woman with a camera back over to your right.” They were the words of an urgent conspirator, and you knew immediately what he meant. 

You fought the urge to find that woman - who was undoubtedly a journalist, ready to publish her photographs right above some scandalous story detailing your imagined romance - and give her a piece of your mind, and maybe a bit more. “Let’s just hurry,” you grit your teeth and said. 

You’re not entirely sure what purpose it served, but Roger shifted the hold of his drinks to one hand and threw his other arm around your shoulders, as if to guide you back to the studio, to shield you from the capture of the photographer’s lens. You didn’t quite see the need, but you were thankful for the added warmth. 

When you got back to the studio, the others swarmed like bees to get their coffee. It amazed you that such an unpredictable and uncontrollable bunch as they could be made to heel so easily with just the scent of caffeine. 

“Oh, John, this one’s yours - and, wait, no, Brian, don’t take that one; it’s Freddie’s - okay, here, I think that’s all sorted.” You smiled at the boys as you apportioned their drinks, then grabbed yours from Roger. “Thanks.”

“No problem, love,” he said. The pet name didn’t really register; he usually used terms of endearment like “love” and “honey” when talking to you, or (you assumed) to most girls. 

The boys settled into their spots in the sitting area and ingested enough coffee to be fully alert for the proceedings before they all got down to business. Their latest album, just released, was on the shelves, and they had only to wait for the royalties, and to schedule a tour for the album in the coming months. Now was just their period of unwinding; they could never just leave the studio so abruptly, lest they lose all sense of direction and end up wasting all of their off-time, so they had to ween off gently. 

They took this opportunity to discuss tour dates. “I think that March would be a good time to start,” Brian proposed. “It’s only a couple months away, but it’ll give us all time to wind down before we head off.”

You nodded. “That sounds like good timing.”

Freddie turned to look at you. “So are you actually going to come on this one?”

You had always found ways to avoid them before; the constant travelling never seemed like something you wanted to do, since you didn’t know the band to well until now. When you first started your stint as assistant, you wanted to be strictly that, and nothing more. But, now that you could easily call them all friends after this last album, you reconsidered. “Never said that,” you sipped your coffee. “Just that it sounds like a good plan.”

Roger shook his head. “Ah, ah, no. You don’t have a say unless you agree to come with us. We need our assistant.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not your only assistant, you know. And besides, attending tours isn’t strictly in my job description.”

He shrugged. “It could be. We could change it and I know you wouldn’t quit.”

Yeah, wouldn’t, or couldn’t? you thought to yourself, but otherwise let the matter rest. 

“WHEN WILL THEY GO PUBLIC? ROGER TAYLOR AND Y/N L/N SEEN AGAIN!

Above is a view of the lovebirds taking a morning stroll to their studio, huddling together for warmth. These repeated sightings beg the question of when....”

You didn’t even read any farther. It infuriated you to no end, how blatant these lies were - and any repudiation or disaffirmation you could make would be seen as “the Lady doth protest too much, methinks” to the eyes of the journalists and the public. 

You began to pace around the studio. The rest of the boys and the technicians hadn’t arrived yet - you were usually first anyway, taking it upon yourself to both open in the morning and close in the evening, and to get the heater up and running before Freddie got there and complained. 

It would never sit well with you that these journalists wouldn’t stop. You did nothing out of the ordinary, and it was still feeding the fire. You couldn’t hold a civil conversation with your mother or siblings, and you’ve avoided talking to your friends from uni because you were sure they’d be even worse. You really hoped Roger appreciated how much you went through just to work for his band. 

The door swung forward with a loud creek and Roger stepped in, finding you furiously paving a hole in the floor. “G’morning,” he said, somewhat confused, but taking it in stride nonetheless. He knew that you’d tell him what bothered you if he needed to know. 

Which he most certainly did need to know. 

“Roger, this needs to stop. At this rate, I’ll be in hiding by next month - and even then, they’ll probably say I’ve gone on holiday to hide a pregnancy.”

You thrusted the new edition of the paper into his face, making him grab it and squint, trying to make out what it said without his glasses. 

He looked at the picture. It was the two of you from behind, taken by the photographer that morning the two of you got coffee together. It just so happened to be the moment when he had leaned in close, as if whispering sweet nothings in your ear. 

A wretched thought ran through your mind: did Roger, knowing that a reporter trailed behind them, lean in to purposely bait them into believing this lie? To give them more evidence? 

“Roger,” you said slowly, carefully, “did you plan this?” He looked sharply up at you. “Do you still think this is some great joke?”

“God, no, Y/N!” He was outraged. “I didn’t think that would be - okay, maybe I just didn’t think. I needed to tell you and I was afraid she’d overhear and take that as some invitation to approach. I swear, I didn’t want her to get that picture.”

You eyed him critically, and you could tell he was hurt by your accusations. In your defense, he always was a practical joker; and, sometimes, he didn’t exactly grasp the concept of boundaries. “Sorry,” you shook your head. “This is just really stressful. I know you’re not doing this on purpose. You wouldn’t.”

His expression softened. “Hey,” he said, coming closer to rub comforting circles onto your back. “It’ll turn out all right, okay? I promise.”

Looking at him, you really wanted to trust what he said. Everything he did was with the utmost sincerity; he truly believed that this could be made right. You weren’t so confident.

The two of you stood for a while like that, each in quiet contemplation over how to handle this great problem. The hand on your back stopped moving, but rested there, providing a much appreciated pressure; it reminded you that, even though it was Roger’s fault you were in this predicament, you weren’t alone.

“You know,” he said slowly, as if anticipating a rebuttal. This didn’t bode well for what he had to say. “The press won’t stop their theories until one or both of us is out of the public eye – which definitely won’t happen anytime soon – or until something happens.”

You tilted your head. “I don’t follow you. Wouldn’t something happening just make them more rabid?”

He shrugged. “Of course, to begin with. But then it’s old news, after it all dies down. Think about it. We give them what they want – say, for a month or so – and they get the full story. You and I, lovers, dating, whatever they want to call it. But eventually, it’ll just become old news. Neither of us can just step down, so we have to give them what they want – what the public wants – until they get fed up with it.”

It almost, almost made sense. “But, Roger, I’m not sure that would work. And besides, we aren’t actually dating, in case you didn’t know.”

He grinned. “And we wouldn’t have to be. We could pretend, just out in public, to be a bit closer than we really are. That’s all it would take.”

You crossed your arms and thought. Could it really work? Roger had admittedly been in the papers longer than you had; he’d probably know with more certainty what the press is likely to do. A part of you didn’t want to trust that he was right, simply because you yourself weren’t sure, but another part of you knew that it may be your best bet.

You would have a fake boyfriend.

“Well,” you said reluctantly. “What exactly would we have to do?”

He settled onto the couch, and you could tell that this would be an in-depth discussion. Well, it would have to be, you figured, so you sat and faced him.

“It would look to everyone as though we were dating,” he said. He watched you, as if trying to gauge your reaction – did he expect you to overreact? If he did, then he should have been there for the very first published story, not now. Now, you weren’t exactly immune, but you could handle it better.

“But we won’t be,” you clarified.

“No, of course not,” he said. “But I’m willing to bet that we’d be pretty good actors.”

And so you drew up specifics. There were certain things you’d have to make sure you do, if either of you suspect that there’s a reporter anywhere near. An arm around the shoulder was the sign that someone was close, so you knew when to really lay it on thick; but other than that, any time that you were out in public, just to be sure, you’d give each other random kisses on the cheek (which you did as friends, anyway) and hold each other’s hands (which would only be slightly uncomfortable.

“What about kissing?” Roger asked.

You were quick to respond. “Not on the lips,” you said. That was something you were certain of – you didn’t want to kiss somebody for show. It was too intimate an activity for you to fake. “Never.”

He whistled. “Never, okay,” he said, and made a note of it. “I suppose they’ll just have to do without kissing, then. May take a bit longer, though.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to be that obvious so suddenly,” you reasoned.

“Maybe we do, though,” he said. “That’s the sort of thing that they would eat up – they wouldn’t think it’s too sudden or anything, especially since they’re expecting it.”

You shook your head. “No kissing,” you repeated.

“If you’re sure,” he let the matter drop. “A couple more things. You don’t have a boyfriend, right?”

Usually, when someone asked you this question, it was with a highly judgmental tone: you can’t get a boyfriend, right? Though you knew that Roger’s question in no way had the same inflection, the memory of answering so many times before brought a slight blush to your cheeks. “Nope.”

“Well, that’s good, then. ‘Cause it would be hard to pretend to date if either of us is going off with someone else. I know I’ll stop seeing girls, too.”

You laughed. “Is that possible?”

“Time will tell,” he said with faux solemnity. “Just one last thing – the end of this whole deal.”

“Will we need to have a public breakup?” That, you figured, might be easier than pretending to date in the first place.

His eyes widened. “No, no! The opposite, really. The whole point is to get the attention of the press, then to lose it. Let them forget, and just stop after a while. We can’t do any sort of public breakup; that’ll just bring up another mess.”

You felt a bit dumb; his plan made perfect sense. He must have been able to see your embarrassed expression.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. You’re not used to this stuff.”

You leaned back and sighed. “And I never want to be.”

You tell Freddie, Brian, and John later that day, once they all get to the studio. It’s something you can’t hide from them; and even if you could, it would be a terribly great betrayal, and you and Roger respected them too much to let that happen.

You couldn’t tell anybody else, though. Your mother believed that you were getting serious with him – not that you were on speaking terms with her yet, though. Your roommate even believed the publications, despite having seen no proof herself.

It wasn’t as hard as you had feared it would be, pretending to love Roger. That was probably because you did love him, just in a different way. You were completely comfortable holding his hand or leaning against him as you walked down the sidewalk. And he didn’t make it awkward, either; he took it naturally, like this was supposed to happen, and everything that happened before – or, rather, everything that didn’t happen before – seemed wrong.

The first time you really had to act the part in public was their first album gig at a stadium in London, before the tour was really planned out. You’d helped them set up their equipment and directed a few of the handymen who did the heavy lifting; such was your job. You did whatever was needed in the moment.

After the work was done and the band was in place, you took your usual spot off to the side of the stage to watch them perform. You let yourself go away with the music; you were incredibly lucky to find work with a band that was sounded good, with members who were fun to be around. The concert gave you time to really appreciate how good you had it, as opposed to how it may have been.

And though the newspapers hadn’t stopped, they weren’t not bothering you nearly as much anymore. You credit this largely to the fact that you expect the influx of theories and rumors. It’s proof that your – well, Roger’s – plan worked.

After the band stopped, the crowd milled around and chattered about the gig, how successful it was. Because of course Queen was a great hit. You’d never seen them with an audience not entirely captivated, including yourself.

As you waited for things to quiet down, you felt a warm pressure against your back, and an arm closed around your waist in a secure embrace. You could tell by the smell, of all things, that it was Roger.

“Hey,” you greeted, slightly surprised.

He rested his head on your shoulder and turned to face you. Through the corner of your eye, you saw him smirking.

“This is going to be some perfect publicity, love,” he whispered lowly, and you hadn’t realized how close he was to you until he spoke, and his lips brushed against the tender skin of your neck.

You couldn’t suppress the shiver that racked your body. “God, Rog, you need to stop that!” You made sure to say it lowly, and with a laugh at your lips, but part of you was serious.

“What, you ticklish?”

You were about to say yes, but the words died in your throat as Roger’s fingers splayed against the flat of your stomach, threatening to move. “Don’t you dare,” you said.

He chuckled, and just the vibration of that put you on edge. “I won’t,” he said, “if you turn around and kiss me.” This time, it was the words themselves that made you shiver. He could feel your rebuttal coming on. “Or, at least, pretend to. For the camera.”

He spun you around, and you let him. He locked onto your eyes. “Trust me?”

You smiled slowly. “Why not?”

There was a very good reason why not, in fact.

He brought a hand up to cup your cheek, and you knew – thought – that he would use it to block the fact that you wouldn’t really touch lips from the camera, which you suspected was somewhere in the crowd.

But instead of bringing his face so close to yours that you could almost touch, he pressed his lips to yours in a sudden and firm kiss.

The one hand on your cheek and the other on your waist, while neither forceful nor demanding, grounded you and stopped any hope you had of movement. You probably couldn’t have moved, anyway; your body was frozen in a shock that was a mixture of anger and excitation.

At first, it was just a firm, constant pressure. The only thing about it that made you feel like it was a kiss was the pure knowledge of what it was.

Then he started moving.

The pressure wasn’t so constant anymore. He caressed you and tilted his head, then swept his tongue against your closed lips. It was quite unlike anything you had felt before. The shock of sensation made you gasp ever so slightly, but it was enough to grant him entrance.

This, you knew, was a real kiss – not just by the knowledge that lips touching lips was kissing; by the electricity that shot from your head down to your toes, to the tips of your fingers, and across your shoulders. You were covered in gooseflesh, and the room felt hot and cold at the same time. It built up, and up, and up, and he was kissing you and it just wouldn’t stop.

Until he stopped.

He pulled away abruptly, leaving you standing there, eyes closed, frozen in place. Your body stopped, and the potential energy that had built up froze, too.

Your eyes flew open. “What was tha –”

He pressed a finger to your lips and shook his head. “Hush, now,” he told you, shooting his eyes off to the side. “We’ve got company.”

You narrowed your eyes and grabbed his arm, turning around abruptly. It didn’t take long for you to choose a direction and go with it – you couldn’t look like you didn’t have a purpose, now, because you were trying to prove a point. You needed to speak to him, now.

A secluded place was very nearly hard to find, but you eventually settled on a dark hallway behind the main stage, where only two women stood, smoking something that probably weren’t cigarettes, and paying you no mind.

Letting go of Roger’s arm and crossing yours, you spin around to face him. “What was that, Roger? We had a deal! No kissing!”

He held up his hands defensively. “Hey, I had to do something. They had a camera right there – literally right there.”

“You knew the terms!”

“Yeah, well, I thought it was stupid then, and I think it’s stupid now. Look, it only had to be once. Most people don’t get caught off guard like that too often – this’ll be our one and only, Y/N. Trust me.”

You grumbled, “I did, and look what happened.”

“Oh, come on. It can’t have been that bad.”

“I’m not saying it was!” You flinched. “I – I’m not saying it wasn’t, either!” You put your face in your hands. “Just shut up, okay? I’m mad at you.”

He chuckled and pulled you into a friendly embrace. “Oh, come on. It had to happen, and you know it. I just didn’t want to delay the inevitable.”

Part of you so strongly wished to hold onto your frustration, to hold strong to your convictions – but as you remembered the kiss, you can’t say that you regretted it. You were beyond livid with him, with his audacity to assume that he could just kiss you, when you specifically said that he couldn’t, but you told him so when you expected not to enjoy it. Now that you did . . .

No. You shook your head and pushed the thought from your mind.

You found that his hug calmed you down. Even though Roger was the target of your anger, only he could stop you from working yourself into such a fury. “You still shouldn’t have done it.”

“I know,” he said, but he didn’t quite sound sorry.

Moments passed as the two of you just listened to the hum of the crowd outside. Usually, Roger would have been out there, entertaining people and letting them entertain him – and despite your dispute with him, you were thankful that he’d chosen you this time for company.

You ended up sitting side by side, backs against the wall.

“So,” he said, completely casual, “that was your first kiss, right?”

You were taken aback. So what if it was? “Of course not!”

He laughed and shook his head. “Yes, it was.”

“Was not!”

“Was!”

“What makes you think that was my first?”

“Well, for one, your face right now. You’re red as a cherry. And second, the kiss wasn’t the best –”

“Excuse me!”

“Okay, okay, fine. It was just obvious that you weren’t exactly . . . experienced.”

“I’m not a slut like you, you mean.”

He bumped your shoulder. “I take offense to that.”

“You should. You can’t just assume I’ve never kissed before.”

“I really don’t need to.”

You huffed, exasperated, and closed your eyes. “This conversation is over.”

He shifted beside you. “Nope, it’s not. I can’t let you get away from me without imparting some of my knowledge unto you.”

You let your head fall onto your shoulder, looking at him sidelong.

“I’m serious. You’ve never had a steady boyfriend, have you?”

A clipped laugh escaped your lips. “Again, overstepping your boundaries, Rog.”

“Come on. I’m just trying to help. And, you avoided that question – just proves that I’m right. You haven’t been able to keep a guy for so long.”

You looked down, fiddling with your fingers. “Well, it’s not my fault,” you conceded. “They were just . . . poor fits.”

He turned to face you. “That’s exactly what I mean. By the time that we’re through with this dating game, I’ll make sure that you know what a good date is. You deserve to be happy with someone, Y/N, and I do hate to see you so lonely.”

You were about to refute that and say that you weren’t lonely; that you were perfectly happy by yourself. But you weren’t.

“We’ll go on real, proper dates. Or, at least, proper fake dates. We’ll go to restaurants, to films, whatever you want. You need to know how a good date is supposed to go, because judging by your lack of kissing experience, you certainly don’t.”

“You’re being quite presumptuous.”

“I have your best interests at heart.”

That marked a new act in the play that was your life “dating” Roger Taylor.

The very next day, tabloids exploded with three different photographs of your kiss. It was all the press needed to run wild, and you could tell that it would be weeks yet until they ran dry of fuel from the event.

The good thing about that publicity was that it meant no more kissing for you and Roger. You were mostly glad for this; you didn’t like the idea of nonchalant kissing. To you, intimacy was something serious. But a small, rebellious, and suppressed part of you knew that, once you had felt that spark – tasted the fruit, so to speak – you couldn’t quite forget it.

He held your hand constantly in public. It was such a frequent occurrence that he began to do it in private, too, and you found great comfort in the feeling of his skin against yours. You never expected to feel such physical attraction to something like this, but the kiss had brought on new parts of your imagination that you had never entertained before.

You grew attached to this new feeling. You woke up every morning, looking forward to his embrace. You longed for public excursions, so you had an excuse to rest your head on his shoulder and breathe in the scent of his hair. You felt bereft by his absence.

Never could you have known that playing with fire could have these consequences. You never expected to enjoy your role; you never expected to want it to be true.

In short, you’ve found enlightenment and can never forget it.

What made it worse was Roger’s pact to show you a “proper date”. Apparently, that meant taking you on romantic excursions, in or out of the public eye, to set your standards high in the future.

He would take you to the movies, then to a nice restaurant. Perhaps on a stroll of the park. It started as very tame, very friendly dates; you could easily forget the fact that you were supposed to be a couple. But when he started bringing you to secluded places – and by that, meaning places where nobody else will know you’re together – you began to wonder why.

A candlelit dinner at his flat one evening was too romantic and too private to be practical. You really felt like a proper lover, now; you’d been wined and dined, romanced in all the right ways. It was a pity that you weren’t really loved the way anyone would think you were.

The plates were abandoned on the table, the dying candlelight flickering. You had taken the wine and retired to the living room, where you were lounging on his spacious sofa as close as you could possibly be. The alcohol had put a drowsy sort of haze over your eyes, but since you were seated, you found it relaxing.

“Roger?” your voice was quieter than you intended.

“Yes, love?”

“Do you like me?”

You could practically hear him squint his eyes, trying to figure out what you meant. “Well, of course.”

You didn’t think to wonder if he had misunderstood your question; his answer made your heart flutter all the same. “That’s good,” you said, grabbing onto his hand and pulling it into your lap, then resting your head against his shoulder, “’cause I really like you.”

“You should be. I’m your boyfriend.”

You pouted. “But you’re not really my boyfriend, are you? It makes me sad, you know, to think that I have to pretend to have a guy as nice as you.”

He chuckled. “You think I’m a nice guy?”

“Well, no. But I love you anyway.”

You both paused, shocked in equal parts by your words. You were a bit drunk – not enough to ignore the fact that you just said to him something you couldn’t even say to yourself, but too much to think of a clever way to relieve the tension.

Roger wrapped his arms around you and pulled you ever closer. If you had looked at his face, you’d see an expression of serious contemplation. He didn’t know how to react to your sudden, albeit lazy, declaration. He didn’t know if you were serious, or if you meant it that way – it was easier to believe that you didn’t. He wanted to believe that you didn’t.

But did he really?

Eventually, the both of you fell asleep – the awkward pause too pregnant to move on from, but both of you too inebriated to do anything else, you both just closed your eyes against the world and found comfort in the sweet succor of sleep.

When you woke, your eyes were heavy, and it seemed to be a production to try and open them, so you simply didn’t. Your face was cool, but your body was warm, and you felt perfectly at peace. There was a faint yellow tint to your eyelids, which wasn’t out of the ordinary – it was morning light, softly reminding you to start your day.

There was that early-morning fog over your brain that stopped you from questioning where you were and why you were so unfamiliarly comfortable. You just accepted the warmth that wrapped around you on this slightly cramped space, the gentle oscillation lulled you into wanting sleep once more.

The nest that encapsulated you closed tighter around your waist, and it was an accepted pressure. You stretched your legs and let out a sighing yawn, still not opening your eyes, still not bothering to wonder what was holding you so secure.

“Good morning, love,” came a raspy voice from behind you, from around you. You felt the vibration against your back as the voice spoke. You froze.

The sudden rush of awareness hit you like a tsunami, and your eyes flew open.

You were in Roger’s flat. It took you a moment to remember how you got there; you knew that there was a falsely romantic dinner date, and then . . . talking . . . and then something.

“Er, morning,” you replied. Your throat was dry.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, shifting slightly, but not trying to move you away. You didn’t want to move.

“No,” you said, your heart pounding. “N-no, you didn’t.”

He sighed behind you. “Put your head back,” he said. “It’s too early.”

One of his hands coaxed your head to fall back onto his chest, and it fell with only slight resistance.

It seemed to you that he closed his eyes and fell back into a doze, but you couldn’t do the same. You closed your eyes, sure, but you couldn’t quite relax, knowing that you were laying on Roger Taylor’s sofa – on Roger Taylor – with his arms wrapped about your waist in the oddest sort of embrace.

You knew that Roger wasn’t awake enough to really realize what he was doing. Of course he wouldn’t want to hold you like this if he were cognizant – you were only friends, and this was decidedly not a friendly sort of position to be in.

As much as you tried not to think about it, you couldn’t help but wonder why this made you feel so good. For all it was awkward, it felt more perfect than anything else before it. It felt perfect like holding his hand felt perfect; it felt perfect like kissing him felt perfect; it felt perfect like the sun rising in the east and setting in the west felt perfect.

You betrayed your own attempt at restraint and let yourself fall into a peaceful sort of acceptance. It wasn’t so bad a deal, you figured, to be in this position. At least it was Roger, of all people.

After a while, during which you may or may not have fallen into a light sleep once more (it was quite impossible to tell), you felt Roger begin to stir once more.

One of his hands moved from your waist. The other remained, but you still felt deprived of its wonderful heat. You noticed now that, though you had no blanket of any sort, Roger had kept you warm enough. Your cheeks grew flushed at the thought.

“Roll over, baby,” he said groggily. “Careful, now.”

Slowly, so as not to poke him with your elbows, you twisted around, so that you were facing him.

When you saw the way his hair fanned about his face, the way his eyes were heavy-lidded, and just how relaxed his face was, unmarred by the strain of everyday expressions – it almost made you gasp. Maybe it did make you gasp. “Hi,” you said sheepishly.

“That’s better,” his lips quirked up in a lazy sort of grin, and his eyes found yours. It made your stomach clench. “How’d you sleep?”

He was acting so cavalier, as if this sort of thing happened between the two of you all the time. “You know, it was fine.”

Roger chuckled. “Well, I thought it was bloody amazing. I’ll admit it, Y/N, I sleep better with someone beside me.”

You adjusted your position, getting comfortable again. He didn’t seem eager to move anytime soon. “I’m not used to it. It’s not too bad.”

“Oh, how lonely,” he adopted a tone of fake sympathy, and it made you chuckle. “You’ll learn to love it.”

You tilted your head back. “I will?”

“Once I’m done with you, like I said, you’ll have men left and right. You’ll never have a lonely night again.”

“I imagine I’d get quite tired of people after so long.”

He looked off to the side and shrugged. You didn’t really feel your face getting closer to his, mostly because his eyes weren’t on yours anymore, which didn’t make you so aware of the distance between you.

But when he looked back at you, his eyes were so clear and so close. Everything was so close – your noses almost touched, and your lips, well, you didn’t want to think about your lips. But you couldn’t stop yourself.

You found yourself leaning even further in. It wasn’t even of your own accord. You were like magnets, some invisible force pulling you closer and closer. Roger felt it, too, because you watched his eyes flutter shut before closing your own, as well.

“Do you remember what you said last night?”

He said it so softly, reluctantly, like he didn’t really want to say it in the first place.

“I’m sure I said plenty. Can’t remember it all.”

“Please, try.”

You paused. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Roger.”

He looked at you, eyes narrowed, hardly looking sleepy at all. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”

You felt him shifting, to prop himself up against the arm of the sofa, so you scooted down, sitting more on his lap than lying against his chest.

“Last night, did I – did I do something wrong?” You almost didn’t want to know the answer. You hardly ever allowed yourself to drink for fear of what you might do.

He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “You couldn’t ever do anything wrong, Y/N,” he said. “You couldn’t.”

“Then what’s the matter, Rog?” His sudden change in demeanor simply didn’t fit. “I really don’t get you. Sometimes you’re about to . . . then, you just change, like that.” You snapped your fingers. It wasn’t quite the resounding effect you were looking for, since you never were very good at it.

“It’s really nothing, love. Now, let up, I’ve got to shower.”

You shuffled over to the end of the sofa to let him get up and trod over to the bathroom. You fell back against the cushions, perplexed.

You didn’t exactly lie low the next few weeks, but nothing more escalated like it had before. You and Roger went back to the routine outlined by your deal in the beginning, and it was an easy, if unsatisfying deal.

The press was finally getting tired of reporting about the two of you, anyway. What interest was there in a stale, stagnant relationship, amid the scandalous termination of EMI’s contract with the Sex Pistols or the not-so-shocking disclosure of Elton John’s unconventional sexuality?

“There hasn’t been an article about us for weeks,” you said to Roger one afternoon as you all prepared to leave the studio. “That’s practically a century.”

He nodded, not looking up at you; he was shuffling through a few tapes. “Yeah, you’re right.” More shuffling. “You want an end to this, don’t you?”

You always had a natural inclination against lying, so you couldn’t automatically respond with the affirmative. “I mean, well – we really needn’t bother anymore, right?”

Roger turned around slowly, setting down the tapes and leaning back against the soundboard. He crossed his arms. “You’ve got to admit, it was fun, wasn’t it?”

You looked down to hide the smile on your face, but you couldn’t keep the laugh from your voice. “I’d have to say yes.” You covered your mouth with your hand as you giggled. Once he saw your laugh, you noticed his demeanor lighten. “I mean, we just fooled the entire press into thinking –”

“Into thinking exactly what they already thought,” he held up a finger for emphasis. “You see, that’s the beauty of the plan. We didn’t fool them into anything, not really. We just didn’t resist and they ran with it.”

He caught your eye and gave you a kind, happy smile.

Catching your hands, he held them in his own, and looked down at you. “Is there any chance that you’ll miss this?”

“Yes,” you say, because it was easier than trying to lie. “There’s a big chance.”

“I’ll miss it, too,” he admits, and it makes you feel something to hear him say it. “I’ll miss holding your hand.” He took a step closer, dropping one hand to grip your waist. “And I’ll miss holding you like this.” He pulled you closer and closer. “I’ll miss kissing you, most of all.”

You swallowed. “That only happened once.”

He let out a breath. It fell against your cheeks, making your skin tingle. “It really didn’t have to.”

Tilting your head to the side, you asked, “Roger, what are you saying?”

He didn’t shy away from your gaze this time. He held you with his large blue eyes, and you felt like you should look away, this time, but you couldn’t. “I’m saying that I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

You knew what he meant, somewhere in the back of your mind, but still, you said, “Then we can stop. We don’t need to, anymore.”

“That’s not what I mean, Y/N, and you know it.” The grip on your waist tightened as his other hand went there, too, holding you closer. Your noses were touching. “I want to kiss you so badly.”

Your eyes flickered down to his lips. “I think you should,” you say softly. “No more pretending.”

He captured your lips in a searing kiss. You brought your arms up around his neck, pressing your chest to his. It was much more intimate than you’d ever been with him, and the kiss, combined with the thousand other points of contact sent the most wonderfully violent shiver throughout your entire body.

“Roger,” you said in between kisses, “I think I love you.”

He chuckled. “I know.”

[lordsister]

Carpe Puella (Napoleon Bonaparte x Reader)

A/N: I may or may not have been inspired by Laini Taylor’s “Night of Cake and Puppets” with this one.

Napoleon Appreciation Week Day 4 Theme: Handle With Care

Tagging @ikevamp-appreciation<3

I do not own Ikemen Vampire or any of its characters.

My ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/lordsister (please consider donating if you enjoy my work!^^)

It begins with a little note left beside his pillow.

The forceful press of his lips to yours begins to dispel the fog of sleep from Napoleon's mind, but you somehow manage to wriggle out of his grip, leaving as quickly as you came with a flutter of your skirts and a cheerful giggle. He frowns, unhappy with the loss of your warmth from his arms, but yawns and stretches anyway. When his hand brushes a small slip of paper, he lifts an eyebrow curiously, picking it up and unfolding it.

Written in your handwriting are the words, "Palpate cum cura."

It takes him a few seconds to translate it, but he realizes it means "handle with care." His eyebrows furrow, and he blinks, wondering if he misread. Handle what with care? He flips the paper over, but it's perfectly blank on the other side, providing him with no other hints as to what you're up to.

Setting the note on his nightstand, he rises and dresses, turning the words over in his mind as he does. It had to be some sort of clue, but as to what Napoleon had no idea. He was more than willing to play, but what kind of game was this?

He continued to wonder over it as he made his way down to breakfast. His eyes scan the hallways and dining room for you, but you're nowhere to be found, long gone in whatever mischief you have planned for him.

"Good morning, Monsieur Napoleon." Turning at the sound of his name, he finds Sebastian standing at his side, a simple, white box in his hands.

"Morning, Sebas." Eyeing the package thoughtfully, he asks, "I suppose that's for me?"

"From (y/n)." Handing him the box, the butler gives him a knowing smile before moving to serve the other residents coffee and breakfast. It's got some weight to it, he notes, but the box itself isn't that big.

Looking from the box back to the butler curiously, he sets it down on the table before lifting the lid, holding his breath as he does. What surprises did you have in store for him?

The first thing he sees is white tissue paper, lacey in its elegance, and sitting among it is a glass eagle, wings outstretched and a roll of paper tucked in its curled talons. He blinks down at the glass figure, processing, before reaching out to run the tip of his finger over the head and across the wings. It's beautiful, a veritable masterpiece, his standard in glass form. Was this what you wanted him to handle with care?

Carefully pulling the paper from its sharp claws, he unrolls it to find an ordered chaos of lines and pictures that he realizes represent roads and landmarks and stores. In the middle of the page is a little drawing of yourself, a speech bubble blooming from your lips with the words, "Carpe diem!" Seize the day. Still...what made this day any different from the others?

"Hmm? Your lady's made you a treasure map for your birthday?" a playful voice asked from over his shoulder.

...Oh. That's right. It was his birthday. It really wasn't a surprise that it had slipped his mind considering how little he cared for it. Napoleon couldn't remember telling you when his birthday was, so you must have found out yourself and decided to do something for it, something that had apparently taken a lot of time and effort.

That cleared up his confusion over your actions and this gift, but judging by the size of the map and the care with which it was drawn, you had a lot more in store for him.

"Looks like it," he responded without looking back at Arthur, studying each line of the paper intently.

"Well, x marks the spot, chap." Reaching around him, he taps your drawn figure with an outstretched index finger. "Better get to it if you want to see what she has to offer."

Judging by the sly smile Arthur was hiding behind the rim of his teacup, he already knew, but Napoleon didn't care. For once, he was excited about what his birthday, even if he had just remembered it was his birthday a few minutes ago.

Scarfing down a couple of bread rolls with jam, Napoleon started in the direction of the city after entrusting the glass eagle to Sebastian, your map tucked safely in his hand. He fully intended to do as your words told him to and seize this day that was his alone.

Looking at the map, he recognized the roads surrounding the drawing of you. It was near the alley where his and Isaac's little école gathered. Without any other clues to go on, he guessed that was where you wanted him to go first, the secretive smile on your drawn lips hinting at surprises to come if he followed your directions.

His eyes were wide and curious as he scanned the streets approaching the alley, looking for anything out of the ordinary, but all seemed to be as usual, children playing in groups here and there and people going about their daily business. Upon reaching the alley, he found more of the same, no sign of you anywhere, and Napoleon frowned. Taking a look at the map again, his brow furrowed even more. Unless he had interpreted it wrong, this had to be the right place.

"Napoleone!"

He turned at the sound of his Italian name to find Gavroche running up to him, the excitement clear on his face only made that much more contagious by his youthfulness, and the frown disappeared from Napoleon's face. It was nice to see the boy back in good spirits after everything his family had suffered.

"Gav," he greeted as the boy reached him, bending down to muss his hair. "What is it?"

"Happy birthday, Napoleone!" he exclaimed, eyes bright, and thrust a leather-bound book at him. "(Y/n) told me to give this to you!"

"She did now, did she?" Accepting the book from the child's hands, he realized it was untitled. A journal then? Giving Gavroche a couple of coins as a reward, he ran his hand over the leather as the boy scampered away, feeling the soft, buttery smoothness of the material. In the bottom right corner, his fingers traced across the ridges of letters, and he found his name engraved in elegant gold lettering. He smiled tenderly at the gesture, taking it in for a few heartbeats, before opening the front cover.

A small piece of paper slipped out and he grabbed it before it could flutter away on the breeze, holding it in the same hand as the map as his eyes trailed over the note written on the first page. It wasn't long, only a couple lines, but it meant so much to him.

"In aere aedificare, mon cher. I love you more than written words could ever dream to convey.

Your (Y/n)"

It was just like you to tell him to build castles in the air. It was an ability he had always admired you for, loving the way your eyes lit up whenever you spoke of writing.

His heart swelling with your words, Napoleon turned his attention to the piece of paper. Just like that he had received that morning, it held only a few words, written not in Latin this time.

"Oh, the splendor of thine eyes."

He couldn't help laughing affectionately at that. Were you waxing poetry to him now? But wow, you were really making him think with this clue. Off the top of his head, he didn't have the slightest idea of what it could mean. Tucking the journal safely under his arm and pulling out the map again, he searched the surrounding shops you had labeled for him, analyzing which ones could possibly fit your clue.

One in particular stood out to him, a small, out of the way jewelry shop not far from where he was now. It was the same place where he had gotten you a bow with a dangling pendant. You had told him before how much you loved the jade color of his eyes, a color coveted in jewels and dyes. If the jewelry shop really was where you wanted him to go next, then the note was a clever clue.

His pace was a little faster as he navigated the maze of roads and alleys to the shop and he had to remind himself to slow down, to savor each and every moment of this day you had evidently planned so carefully. Once he found you, Napoleon reminded himself to tell you how much it meant to him that you would do so much for his enjoyment and happiness, right after he told you how much he loved you over and over again.

The little bell above the door jingled as he entered the shop and the older woman behind the counter stood from her stool with an "oh!" of recognition as her eyes landed on him. He watched as she pulled something from a drawer in her desk and hurried over to him, an eager smile on her laugh-lined face.

"You must be Monsieur Buonaparte?" she asked, his Italian name used once more, and he nodded. "This is for you, from that lovely lady of yours."

The shopkeeper held out a small, velvet pouch and dropped it into his hand before busying herself with another pair of customers that entered behind him. Loosening the drawstrings, his fingers closed around something smooth and cool inside. When he pulled his hand out, he found a jade pendant laying in the palm of his hand, cut in the shape of an oval and bordered with gold trim.

He wasn't usually one for jewelry, but this is different. It isn't anything big or overly flashy and he could easily fasten it to his jacket if he wanted to, but the biggest reason why he finds himself liking it is because you picked it out for him. Napoleon could imagine you in here, pouring over pendants to find the perfect one for him, and the stone in his hand was suddenly much more precious to him. Closing his fingers around it, he moves to pin it to the fabric of his jacket above his heart, setting the map and journal down for a moment to do so.

Once it's safely secured, he moves to check the velvet pouch for his next clue. Sure enough, a little roll of paper sits at the the bottom of the bag and when he unfurls it, it reads, "Carpe Ursa." Seize the bear.

As if summoned, his stomach growls softly, reminding him of all the times he teased you for having a little bear in your stomach. You wanted him to seize his bear, huh? Picking up the map again, he immediately found the little crepe stall he frequented outlined for him. If that was where you wanted him to go next, he wasn't complaining.

Waving to the shopkeeper as he left, Napoleon strolled down the street with an irrepressible smile on his face, not that he would ever want to hide it when he was feeling so happy. You were making this day truly special for him, something he would remember along with all of the other peaceful, amazing memories you had given him.

"Monsieur Napoleone!" the man who worked the crepe stand greeted as he walked up, waving to him. Napoleon had visited the stand so many times, he had gotten to know the man who owned it pretty well. It had even gotten to the point where he didn't need to give his order anymore, just ask for "the usual." This time though, the middle-aged gentleman had something else ready for him, fresh off the pan, without him saying a word.

Plopped into his surprised hands was what appeared to be his usual order, except with twice as much of the toppings, a mountain of chocolate and cream nearly sliding out of the paper it was wrapped in. When he looked up at the owner for answers the man just said with a grin and a wink, "Specially requested for you by your special someone."

Was there anything you hadn't thought of when it came to his likes and dislikes? For some reason, the crepe tasted even better than usual as Napoleon took bite after bite, licking chocolate and cream from his fingertips when he was finished. The only thing that would have made it better was if you had been beside him, enjoying it with him. Now that he thought of it, where were you while all of this was happening?

"Here, you're next clue," the owner interrupted his thoughts, offering him a slip of paper and a napkin when he was finished eating.

Thanking him, he unfolds the paper to find the words, "Interdum feror cupidine partium magnarum Europe vincendarum."  Back to Latin apparently. After a few seconds he "snrks" and bursts into laughter, doubling over where he sits on a bench. "Sometimes I get this urge to conquer large parts of Europe," you've written, and he clearly sees the humorous nudge at his past.

Looking at his map, its much easier to narrow down where you want him to go now, only a few more places standing out. This next stop was farther away, nearly across the city, to a place he had never been before. From what he can tell, it's a botanical garden, though he can't guess why you would want him to go there or what it has to do with conquering Europe. Looks like you were going to keep him on his toes until the end.

Deciding to take a longer route to avoid the hustle of the busy Paris streets, the walk to the garden was pleasant, albeit a little lonely. An ache was forming in Napoleon's chest at the need to be with you and have you in his arms, the feeling intensifying with every passing moment. He was genuinely enjoying this treasure hunt you had put together for him, but no gift could compare to the treasure that was you.

When he eventually reached his destination, he realized the gardens were much larger than he thought, different areas enclosed and arranged for the care and growth of different flowers and vegetation. For a moment, he wondered if he had misinterpreted your last clue, but as he wandered through the perfectly maintained hedges and flower beds he realized he hadn't been wrong at all.

Many of the flowers and plants he saw weren't native to France, brought in from places he had been to around Europe. It was common for kings, queens, and conquerors in general to have magnificent botanical gardens built to house specimens from their lands around the world. In a way, it was a display of power, of sending a message through sweet scents that the world belonged to them.

Funny that all he could think of as he took in the vibrant colors and aesthetic landscape was bringing you here with him to see it sometime. He had no doubt that you would find it beautiful, and he would find it beautiful because you were there with him.

Still, Napoleon didn't know what to look for now. Was there some specific place in the gardens he was supposed to go? Someone he was supposed to find? Above him, he heard a familiar screech and looked up to find Jupiter circling a little ways overhead, black bird eyes watching him. This was a surprise. When had you had the time to train Jupiter to your will?

Realizing he had Napoleon's attention, the eagle wheeled and glided further into the gardens, towards a section where rare blooms from the Far East were kept. The bird landed on the roof of a red, wooden gazebo built in swooping architecture and there, patiently waiting for him on the handrail, was a rose with a slip of paper tied around its stem.

There was no doubt in his mind that it was for him, and as he picked it up Napoleon was surprised to find how fresh it was, its petals still crisp and vibrant. It couldn't have been sitting there for more than a few minutes, which meant you were much closer than he had originally thought, moving just ahead of him to keep all your surprises on schedule.

Untying the paper from the stem, the words written there made his heart beat faster and a bright, loving smile appear on his lips.

"She who loves you most."

It appeared it was finally time to find his greatest treasure. Good. He had waited long enough. Looking up at the sky as he began to make his way back, he realized the sun was nearing the final stages of its decline into the west. The day had passed by so quickly chasing you around Paris. Even now, he pictured you hurrying back to le Comte's mansion to get ready for him and he smirked at the thought and picked up his pace.

He wanted his last gift as soon as possible.

Napoleon made his way straight to the garden and gazebo at the back of the mansion when he got there, suspecting that that was where you were waiting for him. His eagerness to embrace you was nearing a fever pitch at this point, his thoughts consumed with you and the ache from before keeping a tight hold on his heart.

When the gazebo finally came into sight among the vines of ivy and flower bushes, he wasn't surprised to find dinner and wine for two laid out on a small table, but couldn't hide his disappointment when there was still no you. His frown deepened as he called your name without answer. Turning on his heel to go find you, he stopped abruptly when his eyes met your own, wide and surprised. You stood a little ways down the path, a basket of bread in your arms.

"You're back early!" you exclaimed, but he wasn't listening, his body already in motion. Dropping the journal, map, and rose on the table, he scooped you into his arms in seconds, a little yelp escaping your mouth as the bread fell from your hands and your feet left the ground.

Nuzzling his face against yours, Napoleon smiled and sighed as the ache began to ebb. "You had me running around all day without you," he murmured, nipping at the skin of your jaw and making you gasp.

"Did you like it though?" you giggled, tilting your head to give him better access and wrapping your arms around his neck.

He hummed in affirmation, meeting your eyes with an affectionate smirk. "I've never had someone do something like that for me before. Knowing you spent so much time planning it and making it perfect...it means a lot to me."

Leaning down, your lips met his lightly, leaving him wanting more. "I'm glad then. I really wanted you to enjoy yourself today."

His expression suddenly grew serious as he said, "I did, but there was something missing."

"What?" you asked, the alarm on your face making him chuckle.

"You, nunuche." His mouth captured yours, passionate and demanding as his tongue slipped past your lips and tangled with your own. It was the kiss he had been waiting for all day. "I wanted you so badly all day," he breathed against you when you parted for air, his eyes staring heatedly into your own as you blushed.

As he leaned in to kiss you again, your eyes widened and you suddenly seemed to remember something, pushing softly at his chest to stop him. "W-Wait, don't you want to see the last note! It might be a little redundant now but..."

He stopped and blinked at you, curious. "There's one more?"

"Yeah! Hold on..." Reaching down to fish something out your pocket you unfolded it for him to read.

"Carpe Puella."

"Seize the girl," he says with a smirk, feeling the way you shivered in his arms as he turned that look on you. "As if you needed to leave me a clue to do that." He kisses you again and again and again before you can respond, stealing your breath away as he walks both of you over to one of the benches under the gazebo and sits with you in his lap.

"There's one more thing I have to tell you," you murmur apologetically between his relentless kisses and he groans, pulling away just enough to give you a half-hearted pout.

"I know! I'm sorry," you laugh, kissing his nose. "I just wanted to tell you that the first note this morning was only partially referring to the eagle." Your soft hand cups his cheek and he waits patiently for you to continue, memorizing the way you look at him with such tenderness. Taking his hand you place it on your chest, right above your heart. "My heart is and always has been yours, Napoleon, but I wanted to re-gift it to you today. I'm all yours. My heart, my body, my destiny." Pressing your forehead to his, you finish, "Handle it with care."

He's speechless by the time your finished, unable to look anywhere except you. No matter how many times you express how much you love him, it never fails to make his heart swell in his chest and emotion rise in his throat. He wished he had the words to tell you how much you mean to him, but all he can think to say is, "I love you," whispering it across your skin as he showers you in kisses and holds you in a cherishing embrace, doing his very best to express what he can't say.

Smiling down at him sweetly, your nose brushes his as you hold him closer. "Happy birthday, Napoleon!"

He thanks you with another sweet kiss, his hands and mouth lingering on your form. Honestly, this day is only so happy because you're here to make it so.

Eventually, the growling of the little bear in your stomach interrupts your kisses and you and he part to dine on the food you prepared, but that doesn't keep him from sending you heated glances throughout the meal, warning you of what was to come as soon as the plates were empty.

He had yet to unwrap his last and most important gift after all~

[goingsllightlymad]

Baby It’s You - Part 3.

Pairing: Roger Taylor x reader, Brian May x reader

Summary: The year is 1981 and Roger Taylor is pretty sure he has made it. With the Game Tour stretching out before him and the band more successful than ever, he doesn’t think that anything can mess up the perfect picture that is his life. That is, until he receives a letter from an astrophysics PhD student studying abroad, and finds himself sucked into her world of secrets and mistaken identities. Roger Taylor is about to find out that his life is a lot more complicated than he ever thought.

Wordcount: 3507. 

Warnings: Okay so this one is Not Good. Look, I know, you know, we all know. Let’s give me a fucking break, okay? 

________________________________________________________________

You had been coming up the street, back to your apartment and the comfort of your bed, when the letter came. Leaving the library a little later than usual, you caught the evening post in front of you as you walked, the postman with his shiny bald head and neat uniform driving up beside you, stopping here and there to duck into buildings and empty out his bags. By the time you had got to your apartment block he was already in front of you, opening up the letter-boxes and sifting through his piles and piles of letters. One by one by one, the pile dwindling quickly until at last one went into your box, and then another minute and he was leaving, the front door banging shut behind him. Unlocking your box, you took out the letter, turned it over in your hand.

There was your name on the front, messily written in some strange handwriting that you did not recognise at all. The right apartment address, all the same. And then, in the very corner, the stamp of some hotel address, from where it had been sent. Dover. Why would you be getting a letter from an unknown sender in Dover? You locked up the letter-box and hurried up the stairs to your apartment. Opening the door, you found the apartment all but quiet. At eight thirty on a Friday night you really shouldn't have expected it to be, still you felt your heart sink at the crowds of people in the sitting room, draped all over the sofa and coffee table and spilling out into the kitchen and the bedrooms. You knew better than to try and go into your bedroom - you didn't want to know what you might walk into.

Turning on your heel, you backed out into the corridor, retraced your footsteps down the stairs and through the front door, out onto the street. The light was dimming quickly, the streetlamp on the corner turning on as the night drew in and the warm ebbed from the city that never slept. You were beginning to think you would not either. Under the streetlight there was a bus-stop which was really only a narrow bench and an awning, a poster of the bus-times plastered on the post of the streetlight. Sitting there, you took a deep breath and opened the envelope, closing your eyes and only opening them when you had unfolded the letter in your hands.

Dear (Y/N),

You read it all, and then read it through one more time when you were done, a little surprised and a little more amused. It seemed like a silly thing that you would do, and you might have laughed at yourself if you weren't outside, in public. That might be a bit weird, even by your measures. There was something about it that was so very strange, so very endearing. You felt all at once like you were doing something very secret and very wrong, a dirty secret or a love affair. You had never done this kind of thing before.

When you looked up from the page at last it was all but dark, the street deserted as the last of the students walking home from college had disappeared into the buildings along the way. There was a glow of lamplight from each window opened onto the street, the leaves of the trees painted an ethereal gold. All at once the night was beautiful, New York not so bad. All at once this little letter had made things so very complicated.

You knew this was the end of it. You had written, they had written back. No more to make of it, nothing else you had to say. You'd write to your boyfriend tonight, tell him what a foolish thing you'd done by mistake. By tomorrow morning you'd have forgotten about all of this entirely. Still there was that part of you that buzzed with questions they had left unanswered in one letter that was nowhere near enough. You could not be satisfied, and deep down you knew that this was never going to be only one letter.

Rubbing your tired eyes and standing from your bench, you walked a little way down the street, over to the park a few blocks over that you had coffee in sometimes. You needed to clear your head, you needed to come to your senses. Your head was filling up with thoughts you had never seen coming, never thought you'd have to deal with before, and the truth was you did not have the space. You needed your head for thought of space, for thoughts of astrophysics and houses and rent and employment and affording a plane ticket back to London in four months; not for random letters from strangers in Dover who asked you about your day more than anyone else had this past eight months. After all, it was just a letter. So why did this feel like something so much more?

You looked again at the letter in your hand, the words growing bigger and bigger in your mind until they wrapped around your throat, the insidious promise of something that no one knew that you. The adventure that you had dreamed of when you took girls to the observatory and looked above the line of their lips to the stars that flickered on the ceiling. Oh these letters, oh this person, who was the stars to you with every word they had written. You cursed the words they had not said.

Their questions in their letter - how could you just not answer. How cruel it must be to leave them so unsatisfied. Would that they cared enough to be unsatisfied for you. From the pond in the park, the pigeons rose up into the sky. You would write when you got home.

And then the chill of the night breeze, running its fingertips up your spine, whispering into your skin. The sting of reality creeping back in, and the letter felt heavy in your hand. Was it even any of your business? It had all been some bizarre mistake, all your own fault, and you had dealt with it. You promised yourself that you would have nothing to say, not when each night you passed the hall phone, knew you could not call Ben, your Ben, when there was not a thing that you could say. He always seemed so far away. The pigeons settled back onto the grass, the sound of wings beating the air fading away into the low hum of New York nights. There was a couple on the bench by the waterside; as you passed, you saw their hands together. It had been so long since anyone had held your hand. It had been so long since anyone had asked you about your day.

You wanted to reply. You wanted to know more. You wanted to talk to them again. You wanted to ask the, all those things that they had left unanswered in their letter, because they probably thought that you would leave it there. Strangers who had once had something that for a moment might have tied them together but made no sense anymore. And all the world could know that you should leave it all that way.

Don't reply, don't keep secrets. But:-

Don't you deserve to have this, just this once? One person, one secret. It wasn't like the world would end. It wasn't like you were cheating on anyone. The only person getting hurt was you.

You sank to your knees by the water's edge, took from your pocket the fountain pen and began to write. Writing on the back of their letter, sloppy but you were smiling. You wondered what they must think of you.

Dear Anon. ,

Won't you tell me your name at least? I feel I know so little about you, the poor stranger who now knows all my woes because they had the misfortune of being at the receiving end of my sheer idiocy. That being said, I think I have to agree. I should hate to leave it here too.

And there it was - the final seal. No turning back now. The only way to go was onwards, to do the things you should never do. What would Ben think of you now.

As for that "exciting life" of mine, I can very much assure you that that is entirely untrue. Astrophysics is lovely, but it's not exactly the kind of thing that keeps one going the way that music does. I think if I could do anything at all with my life, I would become a musician. At least that way I could get out of bloody university. Must be nice, all that stuff. I wonder...

Don't do a PhD, it's a lie. Doesn't teach you anything but how to hate something that you thought you could do forever. I love the stars, I love the theories, I love the things I'm learning, I just... I hate having to learn it all. You know what I mean? I should rather hope you didn't die of boredom. It might make our letters a little more strained, I should think. Thank you very much for your delightful vote of confidence in me, telling me that I'm "complaining". I can't quite tell whether to feel insulted or called out! Either way, I shall in turn rely  upon you for my glimpse of reality and whatever it is you do. There. I need you and you say that you need me. I think we have a (strange) arrangement. Still, it occurs to me yet again how unfair it is that you know so much of me, and I nothing at all about you.

Tell me who you are; or if not that, what you do. What keeps you up at night. What do you dream of? What dark secrets have you never told another soul that you must now tell to me, because it is not very likely that we shall meet randomly in the street. I want to know so much about you.

You really must not worry about me, my love. I shall sleep plenty when I am back on my home soil and out of this damn university. Even right now my roommates are holding another party. I know I really shouldn't blame them - it's Friday night, I get it, and I'm glad that they're having their fun, it's just not my scene. I don't know, I've just always been the sort of person to prefer the quiet evenings to the ones with so many other people around. I fear you'll never have met a person as horrifically introverted as me.

I hope you do not blame me for this, but I really must agree with your friend. You say that Ben is right about me, but your friend is not wrong about you either! We may both be hypocrites together, for it seems that you will not rest until I get some sleep, and I will not sleep until you get some rest. Checkmate, dear. I know for a fact that I should not listen to you, a stranger in Dover writing me one letter when a mistake of mine has inconvenienced him, still I think you know I always will. Your advice may be terrible indeed, still it cannot be any worse than my own.

Get some sleep. Take care of yourself. (My wonderful words of wisdom).

Are you away from home a lot? I should hate that. You are free to call me a terribly boring creature of habit (for that is exactly what I am), still I cannot bear to be away from my home; my cats; my bookcase. I won't lie, the books are most of it. I am a bit of a nerd. I must make myself content with all the stories you must have. All the wonderful places you have been; the people you have seen. I want to know everything about it. You must have the most incredible of lives.

New York is getting better now that I am learning to see it the way you do. The diners, the people, definitely the accent. I am particularly fond of the accent. I shouldn't laugh at my roommates, but that doesn't mean that I don't. It's just so very endearing! I wonder what is the sound of your voice. I love to read your words. I think I should love to hear you say them even more. Then at least it will not feel as though we are on opposite sides of the Earth.

I am afraid to say that tonight I cannot hear our beloved pigeon orgy while I am writing to you - as I have mentioned, I have been quite driven out of our apartment by the party that's positively raging there by now. You must not laugh at me when I tell you that I am writing to you from the park on the corner. I like to sit by the lake when I am thinking, and I suppose this means you make me thoughtful. I shall let you wonder whether I am thinking of you, my dear Anon, but then again you know I am. For now at least, you have quite fixed yourself into my brain. I could not not think of your letter if I tried.

I am sure that my pigeons are quite content, getting more action than I do. Not that I envy them. I mean, I envy them a little, but not... nevermind. Romance is quite definitely dead, I hate to say. At least, that is what I have found. Not that you should set much store by the pessimistic ramblings of a girl you shall never have the misfortune to meet. Still, love is not a luxury given to the lowly and working-class of us. We must reserve that right for the rich and the famous. The politicians and the rock-stars.

If I were larger than I am - smarter or prettier or simply somewhat interesting - I think that I could fall in love eternally. I think that I would love at first and every sight. I think that I could be the most hopeless of romantics that you would ever have known. I am only now wondering if that is a good thing, or something very bad.

You live on music - strangely that makes sense. You and I are just the same that way. "Your soul is made of music"... however can you say that you are not a poet or a writer or a philosopher or a god, and then say such things, so beautiful, that I think you write like no one ever will. Your soul may be made of music, but in your hands your soul bleeds through.

I wish that I could go along the concert of that band, but I do not have the strength to face the crowds they say will be there (or the money to spare for a ticket, but that doesn't sound half so impressive to say). But... I have listened to their music, the way everyone seems to want me to so much. I like them. Kind of. I do adore the singer, I mean. The guitarist seems a little over-confident, I have to say. Definitely a fan of the bassist (I do have a thing for good bassists). And the drummer... Oh, the drummer. I think he's quite fantastic. I've never really noticed the drums in a song before. I suppose we should just hope that this poor man never finds out that I think he's grand (I think he might find that a little bit weird)! I suppose it is this hopeless anxiousness of mine that's keeping me from going, nothing more, although I don't think they mind too much. It's not like they're ever going to know. I hope.

Ah, Lennon and McCartney. Unfortunately not two of the Beatles (that would indeed be intriguing of me, and would make my life a great deal more exciting, I should think), but my cats. If I had half the Beatles living in my apartment I'm sure you should be the first person I would tell, my dear stranger. There: another secret, and I do not even know your name. I feel as though I am at quite the disadvantage here.

How can you not have seen the Princess Bride? It is my absolute favourite - I always used to watch it with my father when I was little. "Sappy romance films"? It's a classic! True Love may be a myth, but it's the best thing to come of our miserable little lives. We can at least dream, or else we are but pointless. And don't tell me no one has ever made you feel this way! (I take it from your misplaced derision of 9-year-old girls that you are a man, which actually makes a lot of sense now). Romance is not made up, just hard to find. I'm sure someday you shall write to me and apologise, because then you'll have to admit how wrong you are about this. Someday.

God, don't remind me about the wedding. I can't stand the thought of it as it is. All those godawful dresses and the sitting around for the ceremony and everyone crying and old people I've never met before asking me when I'm going to get married too. I think I'm going to kill someone if they ask me when "my turn" is. I think you're meant to say Well Done with whatever, and Best Of Luck for whatever else. And then inevitably drink too much, hook up with someone questionable (which I can't even do because, as you have found out, I have my wonderful boyfriend there - sarcasm) and generally regret the whole affair. I am sure I shall be very much wanting of your enthusiasm. And whatever else you may give to me.

You mention your 'line of work' so much that I cannot help but speculate (I hope you will forgive me)... You travel much, are generally single, love music... an artist or a musician or an actor. Someone famous, someone very beautiful I am sure. Won't you tell me who you are?

Take comfort at least in the promise that you can never be 'forever alone' when I am likely to plague you with letters for as long as you respond. Although perhaps that is not the most comforting of thoughts.

Reply soon, or as soon 'as you wish',

(Y/N) x.

Your knees ached when you stood at last, your trouser-legs damp and grass-stained from the ground where you had knelt. There was a coldness in the park that you had not noticed before, and you pulled your coat closer around you to keep from shivering. The couples on the benches were drifting away, one by one, and you would soon be alone again. You signed the letter with your name and a little kiss that was nearly two, but two might have been too friendly and none might have been too aloof, at the bottom of the page where your words were cramped in a tight black tangle so as to make them all fit. You could have told him everything, if you had had the room. Slipping the note back into its envelope and folding it closed, you crossed out your address on the front and wrote the hotel's address again. You could only hope that it would get to him. You could only hope that he would read your words at all.

The postbox at the entrance to the park seemed further away than every day before, and the letter was heavy in your hand. You knew you shouldn't post it; you wanted to more than ever. In that moment all you could think about was everything, and everything was him. You dropped the letter into the letterbox and hurried away. No going back now; it was done.

At the apartment, the party was raging. More people than before were crowded in the living room, where your notes spilled over the coffee table around the champagne glasses and beer bottles. Tomorrow you would search for them, gather them up, resume the tedious life that you had left behind for that sweet hour or so alone with him. Tomorrow you would reenter the world, resume humanity, become an adult. Call your boyfriend.

Right now you pushed through the people, to the bedroom door down the hall where they would be already. People on your bed, kissing with the lights off. You turned them on, sent them out and locked the door. Tonight was for you, and tonight was for the boy who was half a world away. On the table by your bedside, a champagne bottle was opened, left behind; you took a long swallow, your hands around the neck, and let the night begin.

Taglist:

@rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives

[livingasaghost]

a comprehensive list of all the lyrics from reputation that remind me of feyre/rhys/feysand/acomaf:

“WE THINK WE KNOW SOMEONE, BUT THE TRUTH IS THAT WE ONLY KNOW THE VERSION OF THEM THAT THEY HAVE CHOSEN TO US” - introducing the high lord and lady of the frikkin night court PLEASE BOW

ready for it 

“knew he was a killer first time that i saw him” - UM HELLO MEETING RHYS AT THE FIRE NIGHT?!

“in the middle of the night in my dreams you should see the things we do baby” - i swear half of their relationship started in their heads those filthy idiots

“knew i was a robber first time that he saw me” - feyre literally becomes a spy in tamlin’s house

“but if i’m a thief then he can join the heist and we’ll move to an island” - THEY PULL OFF THAT HUGE HEIST TOGETHER IN ACOWAR AND THEY BASICALLY WANNA MOVE TO THAT LIL CABIN IN ACOMAF am i shouting i’m sorry

“he can be my jailer burton to this FEYRE” - at first he’s kind of her jailer but then she falls in love with him soooo (also this could be satire bc tamlin was literally her jailer)

“every love i’ve known in comparison is a failure” - TAMLIN THE TOOL AM I RIGHT

“i forget their names now, i’m so very tame now, never be the same now” - satire again but she does become ‘tame’ once she goes back with tamlin

“baby let the games begin” - oof acowar am i right

end game 

“big reputation ooooh you and me we got big reputations” - literally rhys and feyre both end up with big reputations 

“ooooh you and me would be a big conversation” - THE DEFINITION OF THEIR EFFING RELATIONSHIP

“i got a bad boy persona that’s what they like -- you love it” - freaking rhysand oof

“you hold me down and i’ll protect you with my life” - literally rhys about feyre

“i don’t wanna touch you i don’t wanna be just another ex-love you don’t wanna see” - feyre when she doesn’t realize she loves rhys and they’re mates lol

“KNEW HER WHEN I WAS YOUNG RECONNECTED WHEN WE LITTLE BIT OLDER” - okay so feyre and rhys didn’t know each other as kids BUT they were mentally connected by the bond so that’s kind of the same thing??

“reputation precedes me, in rumors i’m knee deep” - RHYS AND amirightladies

“for all your beautiful traits and the way you do it with ease” - literally i swear rhys says this about feyre all the time

“for all my flaws paranoia and insecurities -- i’ve made mistakes and made some choices that’s hard to deny” - and here’s rhys being self-deprecating as always

“i hit you like bang, we tried to forget it but we just couldn’t” - oof talk about their whole relationship 

“i swear i don’t love the drama it loves me” - okay so this is like feyre and rhys both like both of them attract so much freaking drama without even trying

“i can’t let you go your hand prints on my soul” - FEYSAND FEELS

“you’ve been calling my bluff on all my usual tricks so here’s the truth from my red lips -- I WANNA BE YOUR END GAME” - in acomaf when feyre is just a DUMB DEPRESSED ABUSED BITCH rhys is like UH UH I AM CALLING YOUR BLUFF AND BRINGING YOU BACK TO LIFE ANGEL 

i did something bad

do i need to even do this one lol

“i never trust a narcissist, but they love me” - this whole song is about tamlin we BEEN KNEW

“for every lie i tell them, they tell me three” - literally tamlin and ianthe whenever they talk to feyre lol

“this is how the world works, now all he thinks about is me” - when she leaves tamlin is so bent up on her and she just wants him to let it go but HE CANT

“IF A MAN TALKS SHIT THEN I OWE HIM NOTHING i don’t regret it one bit cuz he had it comin” - poetic cinema

“they say i did something bad, then whys it feel so good?” - tamlin and lucien and everyone just thinks she’s evil and awful for siding with rhys but it doesn’t even matter HAHAHA

“so i fly em all around the world and i let them think they saved me” - when feyre goes back to tamlin’s court oof

“they never see it comin what i do next” - feyre causing trouble in the spring court in acowar hehehe

“he says dont throw away a good thing, but if he drops my name then i owe him nothing and if he spends my change THEN HE HAD IT COMIN” - HEAR THAT TAMLIN YOU HAD IT COMIN

“they’re burning all the witches even if you arent one - so light me up” - this whole song is just a feyre anthem am i right

don’t blame me

“don’t blame me love made me crazy” - feyre when she pretends the bond is broken at the end of acomaf lol “NO TAMLIN I PROMISE ID NEVER DO THAT RHYS MADE ME CRAZY”

“something happened for the first time in the darkest little paradise” - the freaking night court is a dark little paradise am i right

“for you i would cross the line” - FEYRE! CROSSED OVER! FROM THE SPRING COURT! INTO THE NIGHT COURT!

“they say she’s gone too far this time” - literally everyone judging her for jumping ship to rhys

“echoes of your name inside my mind, halo hiding my obsession” - !!!!!! THEY LITERALLY ECHO IN EACH OTHER’S MINDS!!! AND THEY’RE SO OBSESSED!!!

“i once was poison ivy but now i’m your daisy” - this line is interesting bc in theory she went from a daisy to poison ivy but RHYS actually turned her from the depressed poison ivy she was in acomaf to the daisy that loves him and fights for their court OOF

“and baby for you i would fall from grace just to touch your face” - FREAKING THIS LINE!!!! FEYRE FELL FROM GRACE BC SHE WANTED TO TOUCH RHYS’ FACE!!!

“if you walk away id beg you on my knees to stay” - all i can picture is rhys on his knees rememberrrr

delicate

“my reputation’s never been worse so you must like me for me” - RHYSAND TO FEYRE 

“we can’t make any promises now can we babe? but you can make me a drink” - this is like the beginning of their relationship bc they never really make promises to each other but they just spend time together and hope it’ll work out

“oh damn never seen that color blue” - mmmmm rhys’s eyes what a time

“is it chill that you’re in my head?” - honestly this whole song is rhys @ feyre

“do the girls back home touch you like i do?” - feyre thinking about freaking amarantha???

“echoes of your footsteps on the stairs, stay here honey i don’t wanna share” - all those times that rhys had to leave to do whatever business he had

“sometimes i wonder when you sleep, are you ever dreaming of me?” - !!!! the purest lil rhysand 

“sometimes when i look into your eyes i pretend you’re mine all the damn time” - if this isn’t feysand i swear

look what you made me do

GO OFF FEYRE GO OFF!!!

“i don’t like your little games don’t like your tilted stage the role you made me play, of the fool, no i don’t like you” - FEYRE GOING OFF ON TAMLIN AM I RIGHT

“but i got smarter i got harder in the nick of time, honey i rose up from the dead i do it all the time” - i just like to imagine feyre drawing herself to her full height with her wings and her fierce face and just towering over tamlin in rage

“i’ve got a list of names and yours in red underlined” - i mean....feyre has a list for sure

“LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!!!” - tamlin look what you made her do geez

“i don’t like your kingdom keys they once belonged to me” - MMMM feyre once liked the spring court but then he just LOCKED HER IN AND TOOK THE KEYS

“the world moves on another day another drama drama, but not for me not for me all i think about it karma” - feyre going to rhys is totally dramatic but she keeps thinking about the karma of it all

“maybe i got mine but you’ll all get yours” - FEYRE @ THE SPRING COURT

“i don’t trust nobody and nobody trusts me” - lucien @ feyre

“i’ll be the actress starring in your bad dreams” - god if this aint feyre

“i’m sorry the old feyre can’t come to the phone right now -- why? OH! CUZ SHE’S DEAD!” - !!!!! SHE IS NOW HIGH LADY GO OFF GIRL

so it goes

literally just the feysand sex anthem 

“see you in the dark, all eyes on you my magician” - rhys is totally feyre’s magician omg

“gold cage hostage to my feelings” - so many cage metaphors but this is a good nice cage bc it’s just her being held hostage by her feelings and not a mean white guy

“all the pieces fall right into place” - that’s feysand for ya

“you know i’m not a bad girl, but i do bad things with you” - FREAKING that’s just the definition of rhys and feyre 

“i make all your gray days clear and wear you like a necklace” - honestly this works for both of them bc they both make their gray days clear (and wear each other around lol)

“but i got your heart skippin when i’m gone” - rhys always being afraid when feyre goes off 

“scratches down your back now...” - i mean...need i say more?

“you did a number on me, but honestly baby who’s counting?” - let’s pretend i like writing about sex yikes

gorgeous

IF THIS AINT JUST TRUE FEYSAND

“you should think about the consequence of your magnetic field being a little too strong” - rhys definitely has a very strong magnetic field 

“and i got a boyfriend he’s older than us, he’s in the club doin i don’t know what” - lol @ tamlin

“you’ve ruined my life by not being mine” - i mean...come on

“you’re so gorgeous i can’t say anything to your face, cuz look at your face” - yes rhysand is GORGEOUS *DING*

“and i’m so furious at you for making me feel this way” - feyre was always just so mad whenever she started liking him bc she didn’t want to what a dumb bitch

“you should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in a darkened room” - this is like the whole beginning of their relationship haha

“ocean blue eyes looking in mine i feel like i might sink and drown and die” - !!!!! RHYSAND!!!

getaway car

I MEAN COME ON??! is taylor just copying acomaf??!

“it was the best of times the worst of crimes” - what tamlin did was a crime honestly

“i struck a match and blew your mind but i didn’t mean it and you didn’t see it” - this is all of tamlin and feyre’s relationship in acomaf honestly like feyre does stuff she doesn’t actually mean but tamlin doesn’t see it anyway

“i wanted to leave him, i needed a reason” - !!! SHE WANTED TO LEAVE TAMLIN!!! SHE DIDN’T HAVE A REASON THO SO SHE JUST CRIED FOR HELP!

“he poisoned the well i was lying to myself” - did he not?

“you were drivin the getaway car we were flyin but we never get far” - rhysand swooped in (although technically it was mor but whatever!)

“it was the great escape the prison break, the light of freedom on my face” - when feyre finally made it to the night court oof!

“he was runnin after us i was screamin go! go! go! but with 3 of us honey it’s a sideshow” - this is exactly what happened

“we were jet set bonnie and clyde - until i switched to the other side” - she and tam were partners! but then she jumped ship to the night court!

“i’m in a getaway car, i left you in the motel bar, put the money in a bag and i stole the keys, that was the last time you ever saw me” - i like to think about how feyre just skipped out of the spring court like the devious little minx she is

“i was riding in a getaway car, i was cryin in a getaway car, i was dyin in a getaway car, said goodbye in a getaway car” - oof

king of my heart

AND ALL AT ONCE!!!

“we rule the kingdom inside my room” - yep that’s feysand alright

“cause all the boys and their expensive cars with their range rovers and their jaguars never took me quite where you do” - tamlin gave her so much and yet he really didn’t give her what counted hmmmm

“AND ALL AT ONCE YOU ARE THE ONE I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR KING OF MY HEART BODY AND SOUL” - sigh

“your love is a secret i’m hoping dreaming dying to keep” - they have to hid their love when feyre goes back to tamlin and now i’m sad

“change my priorities the taste of your lips is my idea of luxury” - before rhys feyre really didn’t have anything to fight for so he gave her purpose and life and proved that she had that in her all along, even without him

“is this the end of all the endings? my broken bones are mending with all these nights we’re spending” - RHYS LITERALLY BROUGHT HER BACK TO LIFE AFTER SHE LOST SO MUCH WEIGHT AT TAMLINS

“baby all at once this is enough” - feysaaaand

dancing with our hands tied

“i loved you in secret, first sight we loved without reason” - even though she didn’t love him from that first time at the fire night, even when she saw him she was like OOF THIS GUY

“my love had been frozen, deep blue but you painted me golden” - !!!! NAME A MORE PERFECT LYRIC! FEYRE WAS LITERALLY DEPRESSED AND BLUE BUT RHYS BROUGHT HER BACK AND MADE HER GOLDEN!

“you said there was nothing in the world that could stop it, i had a bad feeling” - literally just them going to hybern

“you had turned my bed into a sacred oasis” - need i say more

“people started talking, putting us through our paces, i knew there was no one in the world who could take it” - when word got out that they were together and ppl just hated that

“but we were dancing, dancing with our hands tied” - mmmm starfall

“i loved you in spite of deep fears that the world would divide us” - like honestly feysand to the extreme

“so baby can we dance through an avalanche?” - oof

“i’m a mess but i’m the mess that you wanted” - FEYRE IS SUCH A MESS! RHYS IS SUCH A MESS! BUT THEY BOTH WANTED EACH OTHER!!!

“cause it’s gravity keeping you with me” - they’re literally mates and they keep being destined to be together it’s gravity bay-beeee

“i’d kiss you as the lights went out, swaying as the room burned down, i’d hold you as the water rushes in, if i could dance with you again” - literally the end of acomaf i’m sad

dress

the other feysand sex anthem yeet

“our secret moments in a crowded room, they got no idea about me and you” - oof when they have to go to the court of nightmares

“there is an indentation in the shape of you, made your mark on me a golden tattoo” - this is so feysand it hurts

“all of this silence and patience pining and anticipation my hands are shaking from holding back from you” - like???? honestly get a room

“say my name and everything just stops i don’t want you like a best friend” - remember when feyre thought they were just friends LOL

“ONLY BOUGHT THIS DRESS SO YOU COULD TAKE IT OFF” - it be like that sometimes

“inescapable i’m not even gonna try” - that’s exactly what their relationship is

“and if i get burned at least we were electrified” - oh they were electrified all right

“i’m spillin wine in the bathtub, you kiss my face and we’re both drunk, everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing about...” - just like...imagine the two of them...im crying

“even in my worst times, you could see the best in me” - !!!!! feyre @ rhysand and rhysand @ feyre

“flashback to mistakes, my rebounds my earthquakes, even in my worst lies you saw the truth in me” - tag a more perfect couple

“and i woke up just in time, now i wake up by your side, my one and only my lifeline” - IT’S THEM! EACH OTHER’S LIFELINE!

this is why we can’t have nice things

“why’d you have to rain my parade? i’m shaking my head i’m locking the gates” - honestly tamlin is at fault like he didn’t have to be an asshat and yet...

“THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS DARLING BECAUSE WE BREAK THEM I HAD TO TAKE THEM AWAY” - feyre taking herself (the nice thing) out of the spring court bc tamlin’s an ass

“did you think i wouldn’t hear all the things you said about me????” - literally so much shit-talking is done in the spring court i swear

“there i was giving you a second chance but you stabbed me in the back whlie shaking my hand” - the definition of tamlin honestly

“so i took an axe to a mended fence” - BYE BYE BITCH

“but i’m not the only friend you lost lately IF ONLY YOU WEREN’T SO SHADY” - lucien even said tamlin was in the wrong!!! AND TAMLIN WAS SO SHADY HE WENT TO THE KING OF HYBERN!!!

“here’s a toast to my real friends!” - we love the inner circle

“and here’s to my baby!” - we stan rhysand

“and here’s to you cuz forgiveness is a nice thing to do -- I CANT EVEN SAY IT WITH A STRAIGHT FACE” - LOLOLOLOL

call it what you want

okay out of ALL OF THE SONGS this one is definitely the one that matches up the most, the one that i think is truly 100% the best feysand song in existence

“my castle crumbled overnight” - feyre literally was in the spring court and then suddenly she just felt awful and tamlin was the worst

“i brought a knife to a gunfight” - feyre trying to fight amarantha but also trying to go against tamlin

“all the liars are calling me one” - IANTHE AND TAMLIN OOF

“nobody’s heard from me for months, i’m doin better than i ever was” - !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YAS BITCH

“my baby’s fit like a daydream, walking with his head down i’m the one he’s walking to” - rhys does not care what anyone says or thinks he just loves feyre oof

“SO CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT YEAH CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT TO” - literally no one understands them outside the inner circle and i just wanna die

“my baby’s fly like a jetstream, high about the whole scene, loves me like i’m brand new” - RHYS LITERALLY FLIES! AND LOVES HER LIKE SHE’S BRAND NEW!!!

“all my flowers grew back as thorns, windows boarded up after the storm” - funny bc it’s a court of THORNS and ROSES but also she did change from that innocent soft girl to someone who would cut a bitch for her friends, she also is really closed off at the start of acomaf and rhys just...

“he built a fire just to keep me warm” - KEEPS HER WARM!

“all the drama queens taking swings, all the jokers dressing up as kings” - the frikkin spring court (tamlins the drama queen lol)

“they fade to nothing when i look at him” - dare i say oof

“and i know i make the same mistakes every time, bridges burn i never learn at least i did one thing right” - SHE DID ONE THING RIGHT

“i’m laughing with my lover making forts under covers” - picture feysand building a pillow fort

“STARRY EYES SPARKING UP MY DARKEST NIGHT” - LIKE COME ON!!! THE NIGHT COURT!!! IM SCREAMING!!

“I WANT TO WEAR HIS INITIAL ON A CHAIN ROUND MY NECK, NOT BECAUSE HE OWNS ME BUT CUZ HE REALLY KNOWS ME” - okay wait this one though....dare i say....oof

“you don’t need to save me, but would you run away with me - yes” - that’s like the definition of feysand 

new year’s day

“there’s glitter on the floor after the party” - STAR FALL!!!!

“don’t read the last page but i stay when you’re lost and i’m scared and you’re turning away” - i’ve run out of cool anecdotes so cut to me sobbing

“i want your midnights” - like...all their nightmares....

“i can tell that it’s gonna be a long road, but i’ll be there if you’re the toast of the town babe, or if you strike out and you’re crawling home” - oof

“i stay when it’s hard or it’s wrong or we’re making mistakes” - still feeling things

“hold on to the memories they will hold on to you” - im sad

why she disappeared

“when she fell, she fell apart” - feyre in acomaf am i right

“cracked her bones on the pavement she once decorated as a child with sidewalk chalk” - FEYRE’S A PAINTER! IT FITS!

“when she lay there on the ground, she dreamed of time machines and revenge and a love that was really something, not just the idea of something” - honestly tho if this aint feyre

“when she stood, she stood with a desolate knowingness, waded out into the dark wild ocean up to her neck, bathed in her brokenness” - *singing* acomafff

“said a prayer of gratitude for each chink in the armor she never knew she needed” - it helped her find rhysand

“standing broad shouldered next to her was a love that was really something” - OOF

“without your past, you could never have arrived, so wondrously and brutally, by design or some violent exquisite happenstance...here” - !!!!!! FEYRE ARCHERON EVERYBODY!!!!

[tales-from-exo-planet]

LYON | PATHCODES VOL. II

ACT II. “a castle of glass”

Length - 2,585

Mood - wrathful, intemperate

Pairing - Baekhyun x Reader

Warning - language

“Ever since the first time I laid eyes on you I saw the truth No questions just proof They may talk, but I ain't hear a thing they said about you

Ever since the first time we laid Everybody want details, but don't say nothin' I won't say nothin' if you don't say nothin' Cause this is between us Yeah we gon' fight But I'mma love you till it's alright Ain't gon' find these answers outside Boy we don't need nobody's advice Give me a shoulder to cry on And I'll be alright I'll be the one you rely on This love Ain't none of your friends business Ain't none of my friends business It's ours, all ours, nobody else's”

“Business” by Teyana Taylor

____________

“Travel safely, see you soon,” you said to both ____ (Almaty Reader) and ____ (Arizona OG Reader), kissing each of their cheeks in a parting greeting.

“It was such a pleasure to see you again,” ____ (Arizona OG Reader) smiled elegantly as she reached to embrace you.

“Likewise,” you nodded to her as ____ (Almaty Reader) reached to embrace you as well.

“We probably want to organize a conference call within the next two weeks,” ____ (Berlin Reader) stated as she joined your parting circle, bristling at the chill of the wintry air that whipped around you.

The voices of your broader band were momentarily subdued by the gust of wind that had you all pulling your collars closed around your necks.

“Between-” you began eyeing ____ (Berlin Reader) questioningly.

“Well following our conversation yesterday probably just us ladies as a separate conference. A biweekly or even monthly check-in should suffice,” she said, pondering the subject before answering.

“Grand. Well we’ll talk later then,” you agreed as Baekhyun and Minseok approached.

“Ladies,” Minseok beamed at you all, missing ____’s (Berlin Reader) raised eyebrow.

“We’ll be off then. Bye everyone,” Jongin waved, ____’s (London Reader) hand in his as he turned to walk away. When you caught her eye again she raised her hand and demurely waved, her cheeks rosy when Jongin turned to tell her something as they continued into the airport.

Baekhyun came to your side, humbly taking your bag you’d set beside your feet as you said your goodbyes.

“I’ll get our boarding passes,” he said aloud in your direction, hurrying inside.

“Are you flying into Arizona still or-”

“I am going to spend a weekend with ____ (Almaty Reader), and then I’ll head back. MQ said he’ll meet you there before he goes out of town,” ____ (Arizona OG Reader) revealed which seemed to be a surprise to Chanyeol.

“Oh...I’ll see you then. Safe travels ladies,” he stepped back from ____ (Arizona OG Reader) who had only turned over her shoulder to address Chanyeol’s concern. You all nodded to him as he went past following Baekhyun who waited for him within the sliding doors.

You caught the look on his face as he watched you standing there before he knew that you were watching him, and quickly masked it with a pleasant smile before he too turned away.

____ (Almaty Reader) pulled ____ (Arizona OG Reader) along after Chanyeol left, hooking an arm through the crook of hers as they carried on conspiratorially.

“Can’t they do anything without us babysitting?” You caught them whispering before they walked out of earshot.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” a sudden voice asked just beside you where ____ (Berlin Reader) also stood.

____ (Edinburgh Reader) had stayed behind while Sehun had gone in earlier with Kyungsoo and ____ (Colorado Reader) as they checked in and gathered their boarding tickets.

Since had ____ (Barcelona Reader) gone ahead with Tao back home to Barcelona she was alone in front of you all now, and very obviously uneasy.

“Me? Yes of course,” ____ (Berlin Reader) turned to her, gesturing for her to follow into the black SUV bearing Minseok’s trademark crest.

“Thank you as always for your hospitality, Minseok. Until next time,” you said cheerily, reaching a gloved hand out to him which he took and held in both of his, the light in his eyes flashing.

“Certainly. I hope to see you and Baekhyun and Yun Hee soon. Have you decided on a theme for her birthday party this year? As soon as you know please let me know so that I can plan her gift.” You were already modestly refusing his kindness as soon as the words passed his lips but he shook his head at you.

“Baekhyun is my family. And now you are part of his family. And now that family has extended to Yun Hee. If there is anything I can do, it is to take care of my family,” his smile remained sincere as he held your gaze but you had a prickling suspicion that you were not the only one who had revealed what you both had been keeping private.

“Baekhyun and I are so grateful to you Minseok. I could never thank you enough for how much you have blessed our family,” you reached forward to hug him and he held you close.

“He does love you, and I know you know that. No matter what happens, I hope that the both of you can be happy,” he spoke in deliberate muted tones and as he released you, you turned to see Baekhyun holding up the boarding tickets.

Your eyes narrowed at the way you could tell that he was gauging the result of your conversation.

His smile was pleasant, but it was the way his eyes cautiously lingered on you.

You were fuming.

___________

“It’s good to be home, jagi,” he tried meekly, looking at you through the rear view mirror where you’d sat with Yun Hee. After arriving at the airport you parted with ____ (Marseille Reader) who was traveling alone since Junmyeon had left abruptly following your New Year's event.

“Take it easy,” she muttered after a kiss to your cheek where you sent her off in her taxi.

Though you composed your fury at Minseok’s classy but brash attempt to contain you, and remained cordial to Baekhyun, you were seething by the time you were in French air.

You allowed him to drive to your mother’s house where you picked up a sleepy Yun Hee. “We colored for hours today. She was so excited to see you both but tired herself out too early.”

You listened, trying to calm your breathing as Baekhyun moved past you to pick her up.

“Darling?” Your mother asked, her tone apprehensive but you swallowed back the grit between your teeth and said your goodbyes.

Alone now and closer to home, your fury was piping white hot.

Ticking.

“If you want, I could-”

“I’m going to put Yun Hee to bed and then I’m going to the office,” you said, opening your door and hurrying to Yun Hee’s side. You opened the car door carefully, unbuckling her car seat so that you could bring her upstairs, leaving your purse and luggage in the car.

Your staff greeted you as you approached, standing clear of you as you went down the hall.

You heard a clatter of bags and buckles drop to the floor the moment after you’d reached Yun Hee’s door.

She stirred in your arms as you shifted her so that you could open the door.

“Shh shh mon petit,” you whispered, kissing her brow as you hurried inside.

You could see that your mother had given her her bath, washed her hair and brushed it.

You laid her in her crib bed, pulling off her shoes and socks, gently removing her jacket, and sweatpants.

She stirred at the sound of her door opening but you continued your task.

“Going to the office already? Jagi, let’s rest now. You don’t have to go in-”

You turned to look at him, a tempered glare set in your eyes.

He stood dumbfounded, unmoving as you turned to finish tucking your daughter in.

“Sleep well my baby,” you kissed her again gesturing for Baekhyun to do the same.

His stupor melted before he did as you asked, “sleep well my baby,” in an uncharacteristic stricken tone.

You headed to your bedroom, stripping as soon as you hit the door.

In your private wing, you knew based on past trials, that no one could hear how loud you could be. You wondered now whether that muted structural design was purposeful, and mockingly laughed aloud at the thought.

“Why are you going in now jagi?” He asked, following you into the room and closing the door to your wing noiselessly.

“Can you move please? I need to shower,” you asked icily breezing past him as he let you go in.

“Jagi, please. Why are you going in now?” He asked again, the whine in his voice rising.

You knew that as his voice rose he was coming closer to his breaking point. And even with that thought in the back of your mind, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Baekhyun, can you give me a moment please? I want to shower quickly and head in. We’ve been gone for a couple days now and I don’t want to get behind again. We do need to pay bills. We can’t rely on Minseok for everything,” you sighed dismissively as you turned the knob to your shower, sighing again as the jets pulsed against your bare skin whisking away the grime of recycled stuffy air and sweat.

You heard him retreat from the bathroom and turned to see whether he left the door open, which he had.

You took your time to wash your hair and towel off before you began your hair care routine.

Usually Baekhyun volunteered to help you with this part. He thoroughly enjoyed every opportunity that he had to touch you and since you had moved in together he had been fascinated with touching your hair in its slick wet and thick dry state and feeling the difference in your curls.

But he remained in your bedroom, waiting futilely.

After blow drying your hair, and applying lotion to your body you marched into the bedroom, nude, to find clean underwear and a bra.

He watched you as you walked around him, his expression pained.

“Don’t stay there tonight, jagi,” he spoke in sotto voce.

You looked at him in the mirror above your drawer after pulling on a clean pair of underwear.

“Excuse me?” You asked, turning to look at him where he held his head down.

He took a steady breath before looking up at you.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, trying to keep his sniffles to a minimum.

You could hear his panic now. It was getting harder and harder for him to hold it back. And though some small part of you knew it was cruel, you laughed.

“How dare you tell Minseok to talk to me?! I mean that was just ridiculous. You’re going to speak to me through your friends now?” You challenged, seeing the panicked sweat beginning to break across his forehead. His eyes searched the floor as he thought of a response.

“Jagi he’s just...he’s my friend and I was worried and the guys were just-”

“They were just what Baekhyun? Who the fuck does he think he is telling me to mind and obey. We are engaged but that doesn’t mean-”

“He didn’t mean it like that. I’m sure he just-”

“Well tell me how he meant it then since I don’t know. What does he mean talking to me as if I’m supposed to do exactly as he says?! I don’t owe him anything but maybe you do since he paid for the roof over this house. In that case we owe Junmyeon too for taking care of us,” you snapped, throwing your hoop earrings down on top of the drawer before rising to find a fresh pair of jeans and top in your closet.

“That isn’t fair-”

“Oh that isn’t fair? Now we want to talk about what’s fair,” you snorted, pulling on your jeans and your tank top, snatching your Supreme hoodie from it’s hangar and your heeled boots from its rack.

You pulled a roll of socks from your drawer as you exited the walk in closet, hopping into them before sitting at the foot of your bed.

Baekhyun’s breathing was silent as he waited on the bed while you zipped up your boots, and hoodie.

“You have no right to tell me where to go and neither does he. If I need space Baekhyun then you should respect that,” you said, rising from where you sat to head towards the door.

Baekhyun rose quickly, shutting the door as you opened it, his hands trembling as he dropped them to his sides.

“Don’t go jagi. You shouldn’t drive like this,” he protested, daring to meet your glaring eyes with his reddened ones.

“There’s nothing wrong with me-”

“But there’s something wrong with us. Don’t leave. I don’t want to keep doing this. I don’t want to keep waiting-”

“Waiting for what? What are you waiting for? You could just say it Baekhyun. Say it,” you dared him, stepping back from the door with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Do you want to leave me, jagi?” He asked, stuttering through the sentence as a sob threatened to split his voice.

You stood unwavering, growing more and more exasperated with every sniffle you heard.

“Baekhyun I am going to scream if I can’t get out of this room-”

“Then scream at me. Just do it, jagi. But don’t leave me. Don’t go jagi please,” he begged you, coughing back sobs as you stared him down.

“Baekhyun I can’t do this with you right now. Let me go,” you asserted moving towards the door.

But he stepped forward, blocking the doorway, refusing to move out of your way.

“Jagi-”

“Baekhyun-”

“Don’t-”

“Let me go!” You screamed moving towards the door where he held it closed.

You pushed against him, hearing the door rattle as you struggled with each other.

“Stop it,” he begged you as you pushed away from him where he tried to hold you against his chest.

“Baekhyun let me go!” You cried out, but he held you there with your back against his chest, crying into your hair as you both slumped to the floor.

“Baekhyun...let me go…” your fury imploded as you screamed again, pushing at his arms that he held tight around your waist.

“No,” he protested.

“Let me go right now!” You screamed again, struggling to lift his arms from you.

“Baekhyun!” You screamed louder.

“Jagi stop, please stop. Stop,” he moaned plaintively, but you persisted.

“Baekhyun let me go! Let me go now! Right now!” You screamed hoarsely, struggling to turn in his arms to break his grasp.

He hiccuped, his grasp around your waist loosening for a second.

You took your chance, moving quickly to your feet.

But he was right on your heels, slamming the door closed just as you opened it.

“Baekhyun get away from me! Get away!” You rasped, turning to hit his chest, trying with all your might to push him back so you could get out of the door.

“No!” He choked out, as he grabbed your wrists.

“Just talk to me, jagi. Talk to me,” he pleaded, willing you to look up at him.

You were unaware of how heavily and erratically you were breathing, until you looked into his eyes and saw yourself reflected in his irises.

Your tamed hair was wild about your face, curls pasted with sweat against your forehead, your clean top and hoodie now sweat stained and disheveled.

You glowered at him, feeling a trembling sob rising up in him as he held you, waiting.

“Yes I want to leave you. I want space. I need to think. Baekhyun please let me go. Please,” you stated, closing your eyes.  

And he released you immediately.

“I...I’m sorry jagi. I’m sorry…” he whimpered, taking a step back from you.

You heard him descend to the floor in a slump as deeper sobs and gasps for air passed through him.

You turned to the door, taking and turning the handle in your suddenly shaking hands, feeling your resolve weaken as the door opened.

“______ I...I’m sorry,” he sputtered again, coughing.

You turned to look at him where he was slumped over on the floor, his hand gripping his chest as he took successive gasping breaths.

[gdialex]

Hello, Ms. ALEXANDRA TAYLOR. My name is Detective Booth and I’m handling this case. I don’t need to go into details; you know why you’re here, and we already have you down as a suspect in her death. We’ve got witnesses to corroborate and a budding timeline, but we need more information from you directly. Make my day easier and cooperate with me on this, will ya’? I just need you to answer these questions for me. Do me a favor and don’t lie – you’re talking to a trained professional right now, I’ll be able to pick up on certain things whether you realize it or not. Lying will only come back to bite your ass later on. Just some food for thought. Let’s begin.

alex didn’t break the rules; that was her thing. she always did the responsible thing, the practical thing, the right thing. she was dependable. i.e.: she wasn’t the kind of girl that you’d expect to see being questioned in a police station. maybe that’s why her palms couldn’t stop sweating––or maybe it was because she broke the rules everyday, and she just hadn’t been caught yet.  

Q: I’m gonna’ start light. I hate interrogators who go straight into the hard stuff, ya’ know? I find it impolite. So, tell me a little about yourself. Give me your full name.

she cleared her throat and wiped her palms on her jeans before quietly murmuring, “alexandra penelope taylor.” she twisted her mother’s opal ring around her finger a couple times, looking up from her hands when the detective didn’t respond. he was looking at her expectantly, pen carefully perched in his hand, so she cleared her throat again and added, “i, um, i’m on the soccer team. my major is biochem. i don’t know...i’m not really that interesting.”   

Q: Alright. Tell me your date of birth and age.

“august 29th, 1999––so i just turned twenty.” these were supposed to be the easy questions. she wasn’t sure why she could feel her heart jumping up her throat.   

Q: Where did you grow up? What was your home life like? Tell me about your family and your upbringing. Give me your story.

alex shifted in her seat and reached for her ring again, stroking the pad of her pointer finger over the smooth surface of the iridescent stone. “i don’t really see how that’s relevant to morgan’s death,” she mumbled. detective booth gave her another blank stare, and alex sighed softly under her breath. “i’m from here. i grew up with my dad, my sister, and my brother. my childhood was pretty average, you know, peewee soccer, skinned knees, homemade volcanoes...the usual.”   

detective booth arched his brow and stopped writing, “and your mother.”    

alex set her jaw and tried not to look too defiant, “she wasn’t around.” booth started writing, and alex’s heart started creeping up her throat again as she went through every serial killer with an absentee parent in her mind, bottom lip tucked between her teeth. the detective waited for her to continue, but alex kept her lips firmly pressed together this time. she didn’t need to get into her family trauma in order to prove that she wasn’t a murderer.   

Q: Tell me about the most impactful people in your life. I’m not picky – they can be good or bad impacts.

she wanted to protest the relevancy of the question again, but detective booth didn’t look like he was in the mood for her technicalities anymore, so she folded her arms over her chest and leaned back against her chair, “gerty cori, marie curie, audrey evans...” her cheeks flushed as booth cleared his throat, scratching the back of her neck. “i suppose if you meant people i actually know, that’d be my best friend shiloh sinclair’s parents. maura took me prom dress shopping and taught me how to use a tampon, and piers took me to cubs games and taught me how to fish.” she smiled a little at the popsicle-stained memories and bit down on the inside of her cheek,  “...and shiloh, too. he makes me a better person. he makes me want to be good enough to be his friend.” she forgot for a moment that she was talking to the man investigating shiloh’s dead girlfriend’s murder. she quickly wiped the dopey, lovesick smile off of her face. 

Q: What are your goals in life? What would be your ideal final ending? What would help you reach these goals?

“i want to be a surgeon. ideally, chief of my chosen field.” alex smiled a little and shrugged her shoulders slightly, “i’m kind of an overachiever. i already have a ten-year plan set in place, so i don’t really need to worry about how i’m going to reach my goals.”  

Q: How would you describe yourself?

alex blinked a couple times and chewed on her bottom lip. she hated that question with every fiber of her tiny being. she knew what she wanted people to think about her, and she knew what people actually thought about her––but she had no idea what she actually was. she’d been playing pretend for such a long time; it was hard to remember which face was real.  “responsible,” she finally said, brushing her fingers through her hair, “and tenacious. i’ve been told that i’m more than a little stubborn sometimes, too.” 

Q: What do you do in your free time? What’s your idea of fun? What sports or extracurriculars are you in at Hyland University?

detective booth’s impatience be damned, alex sighed and pursed her lips, “i really don’t see how this is helping you figure out who killed morgan. i play soccer––does that make me a killer? do all psychos have a penchant for futból and science, or are they more into golf and chess?” 

Q: Do you drink? Smoke? Take drugs of any kind? Answer carefully on this one, kid.

alex had to put a lot of effort into not looking guilty, into not thinking about the bottles of pills stuffed underneath her nail polish drawer. for someone who lied all the time, she was really bad at it. “coach would kick my ass if i jeopardized state.” 

detective booth narrowed his brows, “is that a no?”

she narrowed her brows back at him and met his gaze, keeping her chin steady, “that’s an emphatic and resolute no.”  

Q: Tell me about the relationships in your life. Friendships, romantic, everything in between. 

she bit down on the tip of her tongue to keep herself from letting out a large groan. he was almost as bad as the shrink her dad made her see after her mother left. “i’ve been kind of seeing this guy. it’s not serious––and i really only have one friend. shiloh’s been my best friend for as long as i can remember. he’s the only person i can count on no matter what.”    

Q: What’s the best thing that has ever happened to you? What’s the worst? Q: Let me throw in a fun one, lighten up the mood. Would you rather only be able to tell the truth or only be able to lie?

arching her brows, alex drummed her fingers on top of the interrogation table. she hadn’t been sleeping well, and she was beginning to let her irritation get the best of her. “are you using psychology as your main source of evidence ?? because it’s totally bullshit. you should really get your forensic team in here to ask me relevant questions that could actually catch a killer.” 

Q: Did you kill Morgan Parrish? 

alex folded her arms over her chest and leaned back in her seat, snorting, “has that ever actually worked for you?” detective booth didn’t look impressed, so she sighed and added, “no. of course not.” 

Q: Let’s get some background information on this. How do you know Morgan Parrish?

it didn’t seem wise to mention all the ways that morgan had ruined her life before she was murdered, so alex twisted a strand of her hair around her finger and said, “we met on the cheer squad freshman year. we were friends, good friends. she kind of took me under her wing.” it wasn’t a lie. she just...wasn’t telling the complete truth.    

Q: Explain the extent of your relationship with her. Was it platonic? Civil? Rocky? Romantic?

“like i said, we were friends.” she paused at booth’s almost isdecernatble frown, “we sort of drifted apart the couple months before she...passed on.” 

the sound of his pen on paper was really doing a number on her heart-rate. “define drifted apart.”

“it’s pretty self-explanatory, and it happens all the time. life just got in the way, and we didn’t really have much in common after i quit the squad.” 

“except her boyfriend.”

alex’s eyes went sharp for a brief moment before she painted a docile expression on her face,  “we were all good friends, yes. ask anyone. we used to hang out together when i wasn’t too busy at the lab or with homework.”

Q: In your own words, describe Morgan Parrish to me.

“she was...unforgettable. a real force of nature, you know?” that wasn’t even a lie. it was one of the many things that alex was jealous of. it was no wonder why people gravitated to her. she had her own gravitational pull, and alex would always be stuck in someone else’s orbit.   

Q: Would you say your life got better or worse upon meeting Morgan Parrish?

“depends on the day.” she tried for a wry grin, but detective booth didn’t look convinced, so alex added, “if it weren’t for her, i would’ve have met a lot of the most important people in my life.” she also wouldn’t have lost a lot of the most important people in her life, but that seemed irrelevant.   

Q: What was your favorite thing about her?

“she was brave. she did whatever the fuck––sorry, she did whatever she wanted, and she didn’t care what people thought about her. i really envied that about her.” saying something nice about morgan left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she covered it up with a soft smile. for the first time in her life, alex was grateful for her baby cheeks. people always said that she had a trustworthy face. 

Q: What was your least favorite thing about her?

“she...could be insensitive sometimes. she didn’t think about other people’s feelings when she really wanted something.” or ever. 

Q: Where were you the night of her murder?

“i don’t really remember. probably studying––i’m always studying if i’m not at practice or the lab. it’s probably a safe bet that i was with shiloh, too. do people actually remember where they were on a random day of the week almost a year ago?” 

Q: Where were you the day before?

“like i said, probably studying. i don’t really have much of a life outside of my major and soccer.” 

Q: Where were you after?

alex just stared at him for a long time before he started writing again, hopefully picking up on the fact that she ,,, uh ,,, didn’t fucking remember. 

Q: How did you feel about her passing?

“it was a tragedy,” alex repeated the party line numbly, flashing back to just after she found out. truthfully, she wasn’t sure how she felt. maybe she was a little relieved––happy, even––but mostly she felt sick, so fucking sick at the thought of being turned into someone that could be happy about the death of a person she once knew.    

Q: What do you think about the way she died? Just as a refresher, Morgan Parrish was drugged, strangled, beaten, and then shot.

alex winced as she pictured all the blood and swallowed hard, curling her fingers into her palms. “i think...that no one deserves to die like that...no matter what they’ve done.” 

Q: Did you make any sort of tribute to her death and put it on social m-

Another interrogator walks into the room. She’s holding a folder with your picture clipped to the front. She opens it in front of Detective Booth and whispers something into his ear. He shoots you a look and then excuses himself from the room. He returns twenty minutes later, features stony. He quickly writes something down on his notepad and then caps the pen.

Q: Change of plans. I’m going to scrap the questions I had prepared and ask you what I see fit. Where were you exactly the night Morgan Parrish died?

alex looked around the room wildly until her eyes landed on a very old picture of herself. she looked younger (( if that were even possible )) and frowned at the thickness of the folder. “i, uh, i just told him that i don’t know. i mean, i don’t remember. it was a long time ago.”   

Q: Tell me all the details you can remember from that night.

dropping her head into her hands, alex massaged her temples and closed her eyes to keep the migraine forming at bay. she could really fucking use a pill right now. “like i said before, i was probably studying. maybe i was working in the lab. i’d have to ask my boss for the schedule––if she even kept the schedule from last year.”  

Q: Were you intoxicated at any point?

“of course not. i rarely drink, and if i do i don’t get drunk. i’m not a moron; i have a lot of plans for my liver.”  

Q: Are there any witnesses able to corroborate your story?

“maybe my co-worker steven rich...if i was studying, i might’ve been alone.” 

Q: I feel like you’re leaving things out. Tell me all the details you can remember from that night.

“you can ask me as loudly as you want; that’s not going to magically make me remember a totally insignificant day.”

Q: … are you telling me the truth, kid? We got six other students we’re talking to today – sure would suck for you if one of ‘em was able to prove that something you’re saying is false. 

“only six? i’m shocked. morgan knew everyone on campus. did you even check the greek life roster?”  

Q: What was the last thing you said to Morgan?

alex’s smirk faltered for a moment, and she absently started drawing little circles on her kneecaps. the last thing she ever said to morgan was that she hoped that she dropped dead. sometimes, she still felt a little guilty about it. “probably that i’d see her on campus,” she finally said in a small voice.  

Q: Have you ever gotten into a physical altercation with Morgan before?

she gaped at the detective for a moment and then shook her head, “of course not. she would’ve kicked my ass.” 

Q: Have you ever fought verbally with Morgan?

“...friends fight sometimes. it’s not that weird.”  

Q: Would you say you felt safe around Morgan?

alex would actually say that she never felt more unsafe than when she was around morgan, but she absolutely did not say that. instead, she said, “i don’t...i don’t really feel completely comfortable around anyone.” her lips twitched into a soft smile, “except for shiloh.” 

Q: Do you wish you had never met Morgan?

tilting her head slightly, she pursed her lips together and shrugged her shoulders, “i wouldn’t be the person i am today if i hadn’t met her.” and who didn’t love being riddled with carefully implanted insecurities?  

Q: Do you own a gun?

“what? no. i’m very anti-gun, did you know that in switzerland––” 

Q: Have you handled a gun before?

she glared at the detective as she was cut off and tossed her hair over her shoulder,  “obviously not.” 

Q: Do you know someone who owns a gun?

“i’m pretty sure the president is carrying. why don’t you ask him if he shot morgan. he has quite the temper.” 

Q: Have you gotten into physical fights before?

alex snorted and glanced down at herself, “yeah, ‘cause i look like the kind of person that thinks they could take someone in a fist fight.” she rolled her eyes as the detective waited for her to actually answer her question, “no. i’ve never gotten into a physical altercation––unless you count the time some girl broke my nose on the field, but i’m pretty sure the definition of fight entails that i fought back.” 

Q: Is there anyone who can prove where you say you were on the night of her death?

“like i said about ,,, uh ,,, seven times, check with my boss. i’m pretty sure that i was working. her name is professor stroud.”

Q: Do you think Morgan deserved to die?

“no, of course not.” they really didn’t have the time to get into a deep discussion on the ethics of death, did they? because alex had some complex thoughts on the subject.

Q: Do you wish she was still alive?

“i don’t know.” alex let out a dramatically wistful sigh and shrugged her shoulder, “maybe she’s in a better place.” 

Q: Do you miss her?

she blinked, surprised at the instinct to say yes, and chewed on her bottom lip. there was a time when they had been close. morgan was...awful, you couldn’t deny that, but she also had a way of making you feel incredibly special sometimes just because she was putting up with your miserable existence––or maybe that was just alex. “more than i ever thought i could.” 

Q: Has your life gotten better or worse since her death?

“i don’t know. it’s just different. different different.” 

Q: If you could bring her back to life, would you?

“that’s an extremely illogical question, and i refuse to answer on behalf of rationalists everywhere.”  

Q: Are you hiding something from the people of Hyland? From your family? From me?

she wiped the sweat off of her palms onto her jeans, “nothing pertinent to the investigation.” 

Q: Have you been telling the truth this entire time?

“yes.” 

Q: Did you kill Morgan Parrish?

“no.”