#We were having duets and chases on the way back to the hotel

[unmaskedagain]

No, Bruce! You can’t Adopt her.

This isn’t salt, Cupcake. But I’m going to do a quick drabble of this anyway because it’s an awesome idea.

The suit was a deep dark red. Darker than it used to be from what they had seen saw from the previous news reports reviewed. Her mask was black. Her eyes a startling blue and her hair a shade just touch short of being as dark as night. The girl looked to be no older than thirteen or fourteen.

Somehow she had shown up on the scene just before any of the batfamily could and immediately solve the riddles, freed the innocent civilization, dismantle the bomb with rubber duck and a hair pin, dodged the trap, and was now fighting off the Riddler and his men.

And as they watched her kick the Riddler in the face and then yo-yo away, only to spin around and do it a second time, all the batkids knew they’d have to step in.

“You can’t adopt her, B-Man,” The Redhood pinched his nose.

           Robin opened to his mouth his defend his father but quickly shut it. His four adopted brothers, an adopted sister, one sort of adopted “cousin”, and the hardcore way his father had been pushing Luke spend more and more time at the manner to the point where Lucius Fox had taken to glaring at the Dark Knight.

“…She needs a mentor,” Came Batman’s gruff response.

“You need a therapist.”

           They winced when Ladybug broke the arm of a 300 pound bodybuilder and slam him on the ground.

           Nightwing gave his dad a grin, “I’d love a new sister, OUCH!” His hand went his thigh and saw blood. He glared at Robin. “Did you stab me?”

           Robin slowly sheathed his sword. “…No.”

“Let go!” Riddler screamed as he clawed at the floor as the red menace dragged across the floor by his legs.

“Stop squirming!” Marinette barked. “You’re going to jail!”

           Somehow the Riddler managed to free himself. Then it was Ladybug chasing the Riddler around the tower.

“Come back here, you fashion disaster.”

           The caused the Riddler to pause and give the hero the most hurt look anyone of the batfamily had ever seen on him.

“Black Bat would love a sister.”

“Leave me out of this,” Cassandra’s voice rang in their ears. She was patrolling with Batwoman across the city.

           The fight ending with The Riddler hogtied, and dangling from the ceiling, while Ladybug chastised him on the rudeness of strapping people to bombs.

           Batman smirked.

“No!” Red Robin decided to step in, “She probably has parents. You can keep doing this B.”

“And another thing,” Ladybug hissed. “I’ve seen Disney villains with more style than you; you walking neon glowstick.”

           That was when Batman decided to step in. The Riddler visibly brightened at seeing him, “Bats, I don’t like this Robin. She’s mean. Bring back the boy Robin”

“That one lit you on fire.”

“…She made me cry.”

           Ladybug glared at the bad guy.

           Oh yes that was it, Batman was going to adopt Ladybug.

           Bruce Wayne was going to adopt Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The girl and the rest of her class had taken the Wayne internship program that lasted a little more than a month a half during summer.

           Marinette was the star. Unlike the other interns, Marinette was never late. She never complained. If someone needed research done, she was the first to volunteer and was exceptional at it. Tamara, Tim’s assistant, swore by her. The girl took to assisting the assistant to the CEO like fish to water. When they need a big name to perform at the Waynes’ annual charity Gala, after theirs backed out on short notice, Marinette had saved the day.

           She didn’t interrupt. She had merely leaned down and whispered in Tamara’s here, who then addressed the rest of the room.

“My assistant Marinette,” Tamara nodded with a relieved smile at the young girl. “Would like us to direct our attention to the front screen.”

           They all did. A few months later, the screen split and Clara Nightingale was on the screen, looking as glamourous as ever.

“Marinette,” She beamed. “Love, you are as gorgeous as ever. Now what’s this about a party in Gotham?”

           Before she could answered, there was a beep on the screen as another call came in. Marinette scrambled to disconnect it, “One moment. Sorry.” Tamara got up to help, only for the call to connect anyway.

           That was when Jagged Stone appeared on the screen, “Marinette, how’s it rocking? And Clara, I didn’t know you were on the line too. Penny!” He yelled. “I’ve facetiming Marinette and Clara. How you doing, loves?”

“Jagged,” Clara beamed. “I’m great. Xy’s been bugging me to lay vocals on his new tracks. I’ve heard better from my nephew’s garage band; and his nine.”

           Jagged winced. “That’ll tank a career. Dude’s a sound biter.” He turned his attention back to his favorite bluenette. “Marinette, what’s up? What’s with the stiff in suits?”

           Marinette blushed, “I’m Gotham working as intern for Wayne Industries.” Marinette said. “We’re in a meeting.” The young girl smiled prettily. “This is my amazing boss, Tamara!” She introduced the older black woman, standing between her and Tim. “And we could use some help with a Wayne charity event, on the 19th of this month.”

“I’m there!” Jagged grinned. “Hey! Penny, we’re going to Gotham. Marinette invited us to a party. We’re rocking out!”

“I’d love to come,” The brown-haired superstar clapped her hands. “I have been to Gotham yet. It will be an experience. I can write a song about Batman!”

“Well, we only need one of-” Marinette started but stopped herself as someone, Tim, jabbed her in the side. The only give away that something had happened was the slight widening of her eyes and then cough from Tim, when Marinette stomped on his foot. “Maybe, you guys can perform together.”

“YES!” Clara screamed excitedly. “A duet. A clash of natures.”

“Rock and Pop,” Jagged grinned his approval.

“The fans will love it,” The singer looked at Marinette. “Send us the deets. Jagged, I’ll call you in five to start composing our song.”

“Rock it out, talk later Marinette!”

           Then the calls disconnected.

“Clara Nightingale and Jagged Stone,” Bruce leaned back in his seat. “Well done, Marinette.”

           The Asian girl nodded, “Thank you, sir.” After the meeting let out, Tim, Bruce, Tamara, and Marinette remained behind as they finalized the information to send to the singers.

Bruce noticed Marinette give Tim a dark look, and then were was a huff and Tim winced in pain.

“Stopping fight with your brother,” Slipped from the billionaire’s mouth before he could stop it.

           The room froze. Tim’s face morphed from shock to understanding to an incredulous expression, “No. I’m telling, Alfred.”

           Bruce crossed his arms and pouted. Pouted. Marinette make an excellent additional the family.

           Her and Ladybug.

           He wondered how well the two would get along. If only he could get the two in a room together.

           Meanwhile…

           Lila had been feeding the class lies about her time in Gotham and living with the Wayne family. Alya believed every word, and had requested an interview with Lila’s Dami-bear.

Somehow she’d gotten stuck working in the mail room with Alya and Kim; neither were happy. She didn’t even know where Marinette ended up so she could spin a tail about the other girl threatening her to switch assignments.

           The only bright spot was the Damian Wayne frequently visited Wayne tower to learn about how the business works. However, whenever she tried to get close to him, he’d give her a look of disdain.

           That didn’t bother Lila though. As soon as he got to know her, or rather the her she’d tell him she was, Damian would fall head over heels.

           However, as the weeks went on in Gotham, she found all her plans to get close to the Wayne heir failed. She even tried visiting his home, feigning being lost, only for the Butler to send her packing. Lila didn’t even get a chance to look inside.

           When she learned about the gala, she upped her game. She found herself just “happening by” whenever Damian just happened to be walking by. One time, Lila even pretended to trip and hurt herself; only for Kim to “rescue” her and Damian to walk on by like she didn’t even exist.

           On the night of the gala, she sat in her hotel room with her adoring classmates, watching it on TV, “I’d have gone of course but Dami-bear didn’t want me to get attention from any Gotham villains.”

           Alya nodded sympathetically.

           Lila opened her mouth to regale another tale about her and Damian love affairs when Sabrina cut her off, “Hey, that’s Marinette!”

           And sure enough, the girl they had all froze out and declared their ex-friend was on screen walking with Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, a beautiful black woman, Damian Wayne, and Tim Drake. Marinette wore a stunning sliver dress that made eyes stand out even more.

“Who are you wearing, Clara!” A paparazzi called.

“MDC,” The superstar answered and placed a hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “This designer here. Marinette Dupain-Cheng; she designed all of our looks tonight; including her own. Doesn’t she look wonderful?”

           More questions were thrown out.

“Jagged, why a crocodile? Why not a dog or a cat.”

“Damian, who are you dating?”

“Why is MDC with you, Tim?”

           Jagged answered first, “Well I wanted a dog. But I’m deathly allergic to fur. Found out when I was a kid. Can’t get near it. Dogs are cool but cats aren’t rock and roll enough for me.”

“I am dating no one,” Damian answered. “Any rumors that say otherwise are lies. Anyone that says otherwise is lying, and should keep in mind I will sue for defamation of character.”  

           Tim grinned at the crowd, “Marinette is Tamara’s intern. She helped organize this wonderful event. She did such an amazing job as an intern that I’ve had to stop my dad from trying to adopt her.” There were laughs from the crowed.

           Damian snorted as they walked inside, “He is not joking.” He was the one who found the adoption papers.

[undergroundkid]

11. If I can have you I can do anything

What was supposed to be a sweet release, turned into obstinate mania.

However soothing Hyungwon’s affirmations were, there was no denying; your ego grew bigger than you let yourself realize. He might kiss your stained hands, hazed your thoughts, and erased doubts for a moment, but after toe-curling ecstasy, you were left with a bitter truth.

I am a bad person.

When you got off your new-proclaimed throne it didn’t hit you right away. Your wobbly legs barely held you up, hair stuck to your face, the muscles groaned in exasperation and hummed with delight simultaneously. Probably too many sensations still occupied your body and mind; so of course, it had to be Chae’s words that put you back in reality.

- This is your sin – he said, half-laying on the bed with an open shirt and sweat-kissed skin. Then he added with a small laugh:- Pride, Miss Y/N.

How this man could take you to the highest peak of pleasure and then throw you off straight into a freezing stream of maliciousness was beyond you. But he did it, time after time, always leaving you shocked when you should already learn.

Few days passed without sign of any of the apartment’s guests. Such a restful way should give you some peace when you could focus on your job in quiet. No sudden meetings, no suspicious events, no unprofessional situations with clients – just how it worked before.

It did work before you were aware of yourself. In the past, you didn’t have to ponder on your actions, because you always believed them to be the best you could do. Now the seed of the doubt was sowed, uncertainty always behind your back questioning your true motives.

It was tiring; you wished to be a silly doe once again.

You worked slower, not so actively pursuing your guests' attention. If your manager noticed, she didn’t mention it, simply burying you in paperwork. Or maybe she didn’t want to? Maybe she’s also like me? Perhaps we’re all egocentric creatures, pretending to care, only for our own advantage, without any selflessness?

- Child, you’re spacing out again. Everything’s alright?

Or perhaps not – there may be people with personal interest, like your mother. She looked at you intently, her hands moving uneasily; she must be worried.

- Oh, yes – the answer came out automatically:- Yes, I’m okay.

As you furrowed your brows, concerned why you won’t simply voice out your thoughts, your mom managed to drop her troubles. Your short reply sufficiently good to go her own merry way.

- Good! Hurry up sweetheart or you will be late to the hotel!

You nodded, empty inside once again. Only one purpose: work.

Chae told you there was greatness in evil. How could you not believe him, swept by powerful affirmations? Such a beautiful face of his will convince anyone. Sour veracity flowing from pretty lips, drowning you in his ideals.

- It does feel good, doesn’t it? – he took a rich grip of your thighs, not urging you, just enjoying the heat of your flesh. You looked at him with a small smile, relishing in the way his manhood slid sweetly along your slick walls. No hurry, only the delectation of erotic closeness, fulness again.. having him below you, the stunning man that downgraded you.

His hands moved to your backside, coercing you to move up his shaft. Betraying his lust like this, instinctual pressure to chase the climax made you tilt your head back with a chuckle.

You sat down fully, gripping him tight with inner muscles. Delighted by male’s hiss, you placed your hands on his sweated arms comfortably.

- You tell me – you responded, voice calm as you rose and sink down again; his broken sigh already an answer, but you couldn't help yourself and had to ask:- Does it feel good, Mr Chae?

It definitely did.

At that moment, you ate his words easily. Driven by his praises, easy acceptance of your dark side, you really felt like a goddess. But that was it, just a moment; the person changing into the receptionist’s uniform wasn’t a deity anymore. Not a scared doe either – just a fool, more angered by the idea of being arrogant shrew than the fact she jumped at another’s client's dick.

The discomposure after the encounter with Hyungwon fell short of the one with Mr. Changkyun. Shame ate you alive then, now just warmed up your ears and moistened the hands. The morals? Fitfully unstable.

- Y/N, I left the shift report on the desk, take a look – your colleague chirped at the exit in a typical pink-collar worker’s voice:- There were some complaints to take care of, I know you will do your best! See you next time!

Placing the responsibilities on me over and over; you had to bite your tongue to stop the thoughts. Where do they come from? Am I always presumptuous like this?

- Uh, Miss Y/N?

- Sorry, what’s up?

- The report? – young intern handed you papers, deciding to summarize it anyway:- Guests from the third floor claimed there’s loud music coming from somewhere.

- Music?

- Ah, it’s stated here – she pointed to the last paragraph. If the hotel has musicians or any other vocalists under their roof, the curfew doesn’t work? However skilled, 3 AM piano performance isn’t appreciated.

- Probably someone’s played the CD too loud.. can we even find out who was it?

- Oh hey, something’s wrong? – Yoonho cut in, emerging from behind the corner; your eyes met briefly before he focused on the apprentice. He didn’t stay in your company for long since your silly argument – if you could call it an argument at all. Funny boy, obvious to the suddenly high-pitched voice of the girl between you.

- Loud music? I didn’t hear anything yesterday and I stayed until midnight?

Huh, so he does avoid me.

- Well.. what.. what can we do? Should we stay tonight longer too? – her voice toned down with uncertainty.

- Ah, it doesn’t make sense.. you want to sit at the stairs and pretend to just chill out?

- Probably best if we check it out personally? I mean.. maybe we will hear this wonderful piano serenade room 322 wrote about?

You cringed your nose involuntarily, third-wheeling the awful teenage romance drama. Why the heck she’s so obsessed with him was unclear. He was sweet but way too childish.. proper good-looking at the best, especially among the clients here.

- You said piano? – porter chuckled with annoyance:- Oh, no worries then, your supervisor will solve this puzzle.

Did I say childish?

Yoonho looked at you with an upturned nose. He reminded you of an offended kid; still cute, but definitely testing his limits. Who the hell he thinks he is, little shit-

This is your sin, Miss Y/N.

Wait, why am I getting angry already? It’s nothing for the God’s sake..

Pride.

Oh no, I am better than this, better than you, him and everybody here-

- That’s true – you smiled your best service’s worker smile, taking younger acquaintance by surprise:- I think I can take care of it.

*

You could hear the song on the second floor already; it felt like you were the only one, the other guests not paying any attention to you or elegant tones vibrating in the air. It was a different melody than before, accompanied by a graceful male’s voice, singing the song in a language unknown to you.

The source of the complaint was found in the emergency staircase: the duet of an old piano and young man.

- Looks like we’re meeting again, Miss – the gentleman welcomed, changing the tempo of his song to more relaxing. His white sweater matched the room perfectly; with the new line of chords, he gave off a cozy aura.

- Mr. Yoo – you bowed:- I was looking for you. Did you decide to wander here last night perhaps?

- Is that a proper question from a young lady? – he shifted on a small bench, offering you a seat. You took it without hesitation, feeling at ease in his presence. The effect of his music, harmonic vocals, and polite behavior was soothing for your soul. Exactly what you needed after the vortex of the last events.

- We had a complaint about the noise, sir. You should finish the concert before 10 PM for everybody’s comfort.

- I see.. my apologies – he slouched a bit, big glasses sliding down his nose. He stopped playing to adjust them:- I thought it wasn’t a big deal. There’s a lot of loud singing at the night here.

Frowning was enough to make him explain.

- Intense, melodic .. and greatly feminine.

You could see the rising panic in your face from the reflection in Kihyun’s lenses; he just smiled, a little, almost with adoration.

- It was very beautiful – he assured, calming you down instantly. Soothing came naturally to him – surely he meant your latest stunts, yet his short affirmation was enough to put discomfort for later. No judging, maybe even a bit of understanding. Now you could simply enjoy his appeasing company.

His fingers started waltzing lazily on aged piano keys, filling the silence.

- It made me lonely – Mr. Yoo admitted:- Music makes me feel less miserable.

- I see.. hotel is full of people, but it doesn’t matter. I am sorry to hear this, sir.

A simple nod was the only answer. Seeing the man who until now provided nothing but comfort for you in sorrow mood was upsetting. He deserved better.

You lightly brushed your shoulder against his to lighten up the mood.

- I am here now, sir. With you.

He chuckled.

- That’s what I was hoping for.

Tiny tingling danced under your ribs for a few seconds. Letting it warm you up, then quelling it out habit – you shouldn’t let the simple compliments captivate you. Why you still held to the old manners you were taught? You didn’t exactly follow them lately. Quit the act already.

- Your presence.. conciliate me – hushed words, spoke with caution:- It did last time and so do now. I am afraid I will need it more.

- I.. can help, sir. Please call reception next time, we can talk?

Kihyun laughed, shaking his head with amusement.

- Dear Miss Y/N.. this solitude is a bottomless pit, unfortunately..

His hand came to your jawline, following the path behind your ear. He touched the delicate skin with eyes full of wonder.

- It will never be enough – he stated, then added with a sigh:- I am gluttonous like this.

Nobody wants to be lonely, after all – it’s human nature. He found out your dirty secrets and might want to take his own piece of this cake, hiding it under lame excuses.. but why would he do that? How can you suspect the most courteous man in this hotel? Always polite to you, adding some smarty remarks to keep you on your toes. No pushing your boundaries though – he acknowledged your actions without any criticism.

Maybe he is just alone, wishing for someone to heal the emptiness. What’s wrong with looking for affection anyway? It’s what led you to previous encounters, too. You were touch-starved. Both Changkyun and Hyungwon made you aware of it, appeased the basic hunger, then left you to hunt for yourself.

The doe became huntress, so you closed the gap between you and Yoo with an urgent kiss. He melted with pleasure, almost as if he was waiting for your move.

- So am I – you agreed, clenching his white sweater:- I am greedy, too, sir.

- Oh I can tell – he whispered with a snicker, staring at your moving hands.

The kisses became heated quickly. You were torn between admiring his foggy glasses and reddened lips. The gentleman was focused on chasing your mouth though, arms encircling your frame to close any possible space between you two. His soft touch contrast to your previous lovers, both Im and Chae more fervently urgent. Even your ex-boyfriend, your first.. however considerate he was of your virginity, his inexperience was clear. You didn’t blame him; he was a sweetheart, head over heels in love with you.. at some point at least.

Nonetheless, you couldn’t help but contemplate if he ever loved you for real. Maybe it was a stupid young crush and you stayed together out of habit, playing it safe. It looked like he wanted another type of partner inferring from his social media. No point in complaining now, you were both adults, going their own path.. his more of a party animal, yours.. well. Boring, uneventful, and stable until now; even so, still regretful.

Kihyun’s approach unlike anyone was making you feel treasured as if he was waiting a lifetime for a chance to have this moment. Hyungwon set you on a pedestal, that’s true, but he did it with mendacity, leaving you more mentally confused than before. The male beside you handled you with utter care, gracing you with a love-struck smile. You answered with a grin before you could catch yourself. What a lovely man, worthy of the best, yet he was with you and it seemed to make him the happiest.

Maybe I can honestly bring him joy, maybe I.. maybe I am not as bad as I thought of myself.

Your hands trembled, which didn’t go unnoticed by your partner. He instantly shifted to meet your eyes properly, observing your face for any kind of discomfort. His concern practically startling, given how unused you were to that level of care. Nobody paid attention to your feelings much, obvious hardship dismissed even by your own mother.

This man did on the other hand. He worried about trivial troubled gesture, despite the hollowness of his heart.

I can help; I can be virtuous, whatever Chae implied. You felt he can be wrong this strong for the first time since his arrival.

- Something’s wrong, dear?

You shook your head dismissively.

- No – you answered, grazing male’s legs briefly:- Actually, quite the opposite.

He tried to ask again, however, was silenced with a quick kiss – to stop him from questioning and to provide a distraction from sneaking hands down his trousers, towards a recognizable bulge. He moaned straight into your mouth, such a pure noise you thought of it as your new favorite sound. You needed more of this dissolute melody then and there.

Driven by a desire to take care of your sweet lover, you slid between his legs on your knees.

- Ah, Miss Y/N – blush prominent on cheeks, he still tried to play it cool:- Don’t you favor me way too much?

You shushed him, massaging his crotch that was now your eye-level. He weakly tried to pry your hands with some gentle words, something among the lines of ladies first, although it didn’t stop you.

- Mr. Yoo – unzipping his pants, freeing him from briefs and still you didn’t shy away from his heated gaze:- I want to hear you sing more..

You had your goal now. Clear purpose helping you redeem yourself.

- Please, play the piano and sing – you requested, kissing the head of his erected member. He answered you with a shaky breath, which determined he needed a moment to collect himself. Cute.

The moment he started the new tune, your tongue glided along salty skin. He faltered for a few seconds, picking up the tempo with trouble.

It made you smile; it made you powerful, once again, but at your own rules.

When Kihyun decided to sing, you swallowed him as much as you could. The vocals broke into a loud whine, fueling you to go even deeper, faster, wilder.

You could give him a piece of heaven, sneak peek into oblivion. It was possible without looking for own gain or offensive commentary. Just two people searching for the warmth of intimacy. He chanted foreign words above you out of breath, still harmonic as always and you sensed both your climaxes coming; his primal, your spiritual.

Cure the loneliness out of the pure heart. I don’t want anything, after all; just feel better.

Is that nothing? Or am I seeking for my own benefit?

The piano stuttered, chords losing original pace, throwing the song into chaos. Yoo’s voice slowed down to sinful groans with infrequent lyrics. He was close, exhalation hasty just like the thoughts coming through your head.

Am I proving Chae’s word wrong?

The piano stopped abruptly, some keys pressed together with a smash of Kihyun’s arm. He hid between his elbows and your head, uttering an uncommonly bashful cry. Bitter substance filled your mouth along with an even more savage realization.

You gulped down his cum, stunned enough to not care for typical male’s taste. Tucking him back into pants, mental nausea grew stronger every passing second. You hoped to bolt before facing him, however difficult it might be.

Pointless as expected, when your rose back again he embraced your hips with wobbly palms.

- Not so quick, Miss – sweated from orgasm, not any less handsome:- Let me return the favor.

Favor? It wasn’t a favor. Only a confirmation; you were corrupt as Hyungwon said you were. Determined to convince him you can be good simply because you couldn’t stand the insult. Too proud to admit the truth over again. Not able to accept the accusation so much it made you blow the first willing guy. Extra violation on your naughty list.

- You don’t have to – there was no use to drag the show anymore, so you opted to give up before you could regret it all even more. Kihyun opened his mouth to protest with what could be another wise-ass reply, but you beat him to it:

- We are all lonely in our pleasure in the end.

thank you for reading

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[dothwrites]

@bunnymcbunnister requested Cas using his coat as a blanket for Dean. Here you go darling, hope that I did your idea justice!

---

Dean shivers as he clutches his coat closer to his body. The breeze, which had been pleasant in the sixty-five degree afternoon, has turned into something with teeth here in the darkness of the forest. He and Cas are huddled up against the base of some old, giant oak, one of the biggest offerings that the paltry scrap of woods outside the town has to offer. They’ve been out here waiting for at least thirty minutes with no end in sight, and Dean’s body is starting to feel the strain of the ten hour drive to get here. 

“You don’t have to stay here,” Cas says, stupidly unbothered by the cold as always. “We all agreed that it was more likely that the satyr would return to the club. You could go there and give Sam some back-up.” 

“No, because all we’re going to be able to do at the club is chase him away from any victims. In order to kill him, we’re going to have to corner him here.” 

He doesn’t mention that Cas could single-handedly take care of a satyr by himself or that he’s long since lost the feeling in the tips of his fingers. Or that, despite the cold, his eyelids are feeling heavier than ever. 

“So I’m staying.” Dean’s eyebrow lifts, daring Cas to contradict him. 

“Suit yourself,” is all that Cas says, which. Dean wasn’t exactly angling for a fight, but bland compliance isn’t really what he was aiming for either. 

“You...suit yourself.” 

Cas doesn’t even deign to respond to that. He just settles further against the tree, with the patience of an eternal being who doesn’t get bothered by paltry concerns such as exhaustion or hypothermia. Dean, who is just a mere mortal and who does get bothered by those paltry concerns, also shifts. 

Cas’ arm is a brand of heat against his arm and Dean tries to curl into that warmth without being too obvious about it. He and Cas aren’t official, not yet anyway. They haven’t exchanged rings or given each other any flowery declarations of love or sung any dramatic duets yet, but. They’re the kind of not official that’s official, in that Dean recoils from the thought of anyone else, in that Cas hangs around the bunker even when there’s not a case, in that Dean chose to be out here in the forest with him instead of the club where he could at least con his way into free drinks. 

And what’s a tree root digging persistently into his ass compared to that? 

Dean’s jaw aches from stifling his yawns, but he’ll be damned if he gives Cas the satisfaction. Not that Cas would gloat. No, Cas would do something stupid and nice like insist that he go back to the hotel. Once the suggestion was in his head, he’d plant his heels in the stubbornly angelic way that he has, the one that reminds Dean that he’s dealing with a being that had enough patience to watch continental drift. 

So yawning isn’t an option. But it becomes an undeniable reality as the time drags out and their satyr continues to be a no-show. 

“Perhaps we should give up for the night,” Cas suggests, either a few minutes or a few hours later. “I’m not sure that our satyr is going to return here tonight.” 

Dean hears his words through a haze, like they’re standing at opposite ends of a tunnel. He grunts, hopes that it sounds disagreeable. They can’t afford to give up for the night. This asshole is targeting single women, hunting them down as they leave clubs. There’s no way that this bastard sees another sunrise, not if Dean Winchester has anything to say about it. 

But Cas is so damn warm. And what could it really hurt, closing his eyes for a few minutes as his head drops down to Cas’ shoulder? 

---

Warm. 

That’s the first thing that struggles to Dean’s consciousness, is the fact that he’s cozy warm, from his fingers down to the tip of his nose. It’s the kind of warm that makes him want to wriggle around, just to revel in the feeling. Languid delight races up his spine and a lazy smile graces his face. 

The second thing that rises in Dean’s slowly sharpening consciousness is the lack of discomfort in his body. Years of hunting and hard living have ensured that some part of his body hurts almost all the time--from the three fingers that never healed exactly right to his trick knee that twinges whenever it’s going to rain, to that weird space between his shoulders--some part of him always feels the job or his age. But not now. Now, he’s just lazy and heavy, aware of his body but without the pains. 

His eyes open. 

The darkness of the forest surrounds him, dim and dark. Starlight just barely filters in through the trees and it’s only years of experience peering through almost pitch blackness that leave Dean able to see anything. He would worry except...

His stumbling brain finally catches up to reality as he realizes exactly what his fingers are curled around. The fabric of Cas’ coat is softer than he always imagined, worn thin and soft through years of use. It’s thicker than he always thought, enough to provide him with a snug little bubble of warmth in the middle of the forest. When Dean ducks his head down, he can scent the particular mixture that he always associates with Cas--the petrichor mixing with the sharp, salt tang of the ocean, so unlike anything that he’s ever smelled in his life spent in the heartland. 

His cheek is resting against something soft and unyielding. It only takes Dean a second longer than it should to figure out that it’s Cas’ thigh, and the heavy weight on his shoulder is Cas’ hand. 

He blinks, flicks his eyes up, as he pulls Cas’ coat in closer around himself. Cas doesn’t look down at him, but judging from the tiny smile gracing his face, he’s aware of Dean’s return to wakefulness.

It’s only after he’s had a few seconds to stare at Cas that Dean notices the thin trickle of blood tracing down from underneath his hairline. 

“Satyr finally show?” he guesses. His voice comes out as a rough rumble that sounds more pissed than he is. 

Luckily, Cas reads the tone beneath his voice. He tips his head to the side, a playful little glint shining in his eyes. 

“About forty-five minutes ago,” he answers. His thumb strokes over Dean’s shoulder. Through the fabric of the coat it’s barely noticeable, but Dean can hear the rasp of skin and if he tries hard enough, he can imagine that pressure. 

“And I’m just now finding out about this because?” He doesn’t have to fake the petulant tone in his voice, though he does play it up a little. It’s so rare that he gets to tease Cas; he’ll relish every opportunity he gets. 

“You looked so peaceful,” Cas answers. There’s something secret and pleased in his eyes, something soft that lives right at the very heart of him, and that Cas so rarely gets to display. 

“Yeah?” 

Maybe if Sam were here, then Dean would feel the familiar prickling of shame and the desperate need to deflect. As it is, with only the stars to witness them, he snuggles in deeper into the pocket of comfort which the coat provides. 

“You did,” Cas confirms. His eyes linger on where Dean’s chin is tucked into the collar of the coat and where his fingers pull it closer to his body. “It seemed rude to wake you.” 

“And so you let me sleep through a whole ass fight.” Dean sighs, but he wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything, not even getting his ass kicked by a rogue satyr. 

Cas doesn’t answer him, though his fingers do grip at Dean’s shoulder through the coat. Which, now that he thinks about it, is an answer. 

“Now that the fight’s over, we should probably go back to the hotel,” Cas finally says, tilting his head up to look at the narrow window of stars visible through the canopy above. 

“Yeah.” Dean can already feel a yawn pulling at his jaw. This time, he doesn’t fight it. “We probably should.” 

He wriggles around, before he tugs the coat up close to his face. He tucks his nose into the collar and breathes in the scent of Cas. Dean feels his muscles relaxing further, the tension of the car ride and the wait seeping out as he surrounds himself with nothing but Cas Cas Cas. 

They can afford to stay for a few more minutes. 

---

[gwoongi]

dancer in the dark (pt. 1)

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: rockstar/pop-punk au, smut, angst & fluff rating: explicit words: 33k warnings: slowburn, explicit sexual themes, alcohol use, recreational rockstar drug use, smoking, adult language, dark themes including negative side-effects of drug use and drinking including intoxication & irrational behaviour, dry humping, mental health struggle, koo has an australian accent, unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism, if things feel good in this fic then wait 4 part two to ruin everything a/n: ok.....hear me out......guk as a lead singer of an alternative-punk-rock band....and he looks like this......and this….. AND THIS………and his band r basically chase atlantic......Ok ur welcome & pls give this fic a chance!!!!!!!!!! i luv it a lot and its probs my fav so far ˭̡̞(◞⁎˃ᆺ˂)◞*✰ def a long one so get ur tea and blankets and buckle up! notes: have it. this has been in my drafts since like july. just take it and smile.

dedicated to @httpjeon, who force fed me pictures of rocker jeongguk and repeatedly kept me sane + motivated. thank u sm 

Money can’t buy you happiness. Jeongguk, for the longest time, thinks he’s happy. Truthfully, Jeongguk doesn’t know what happiness is until you find him.

BIRTH OF DEVILS. (LONDON)

“That was August Blue in the Live Lounge, covering Thanks For The Memories by Fall Out Boy. These guys have some right talent, don’t they? Yeah...well, you can keep up to date with them by watching their interview with us on IPlayer right now, and they’re also going to be on tour in London and various other American venues within the next few months. I’m proper excited for that...”

No matter how many interview schedules and radio plays, Jeongguk doesn’t feel as though he is ever going to get used to this feeling. 

For now, it is an endless series of chaos, radio stations and newspapers wanting to talk to the newest music craze- because that’s what August Blue were, whether Jeongguk liked that or not. 

August Blue were a band who nobody thought could make it. From early fans of the band, when they were barely filling up Korean venues and getting more than a thousand views on original songs, to big-name celebrities like Axel Choi who had waltzed into Jeongguk’s part-time job when he was seventeen. The man, one of Jeongguk’s idols, had looked him in the eye, considered his band and his dream and said he didn’t have the talent to do anything good with his band, and told him, if you want to be big, you have to be American.

It wasn’t quite the same, or what Axel had intended for it to mean, but four years later Jeongguk now sits number one on the Billboard Charts with his ‘band with no potential’, making a name for themselves, bringing pride to their culture, love with their music, and money to Korea’s economy. The amount of fans that August Blue had collected over the four years of Jeongguk’s band being formally considered a band were unimaginable, many flocking to landmarks to photograph lampposts he stood next to on Instagram, others going to his home-country to enjoy the country that had birthed icons. 

If only Jeongguk had the same love and pride for his country; they had turned their backs on them simply because of their popularity overseas. 

Well, fuck them- Jeongguk and his band are going somewhere no other Korean band or artist can even touch, and while we’re on the subject- Axel Choi can eat a dick! Jeongguk’s not doing so bad for a Busan boy working at 7-Eleven, and while Jeongguk’s drinking champagne like a King on the top of the charts, it’s hard to see everybody else at the bottom.

August Blue leave the BBC Broadcasting House, on their way to the hotel for their last two nights in London before heading back to America. It doesn’t quite feel real yet, for Jeongguk to say that his band have sold out two nights at the O2 Academy Brixton. Admittedly, it’s not as big as their shows in America, which similarly happens to be where most of their fans are located, but for a first time in the UK, it’s a dream to see it sold out with his band's name and faces on billboards nearby.

Beside him in the black van, August Blue’s bassist Hoseok sighs deeply and fastens his seatbelt, his hands immediately rummaging into his coat pocket to pull out his phone. Nevertheless, a smile does dance on his lips; a few fans had gathered outside the building to see them off, as well as welcome them when they arrived for their Live Lounge recording and interview. It still feels surreal for Jeongguk to see his face on shirts, and to hear people call his name. As the car begins to pull out of the car park, Jeongguk squints through the darkened glass at the fans, a bright smile on his face as they cheer, right until the car is out of the building vicinity.

“Should arrive at the hotel in thirty.” From the passenger seat, August Blue’s manager twists to face the band in the back seats. Jeongguk barely lifts his face to see him, his eyes glancing over and then moving back out the window, watching London pass by in a blur. “Try and get some shut-eye. Good job today, guys.”

“Thanks, coach,” Seokjin replies. It’s always Seokjin who does the talking, taking the role of Big Bro whenever August Blue’s lead vocal and, let’s face it, the reason why they have fans, Jeongguk, isn’t feeling particularly chatty, which is more often than not. “Let’s keep working hard, yeah?”

The question is directed out to everybody in the van, and Jeongguk finally looks over. He nods, gently and smiles as if it hurts him to be genuine, and then his attention is back out the window, his mind back with the fans who had screamed for him, his heart filled with the warmth of the memory.

It’s good to be loved, to be accepted. It’s good to be successful when people doubted you could do it.

THE DEVILS ARE DANCING. (VENICE)

“It sounds really good, Jeongguk. Want me to run it one more time?”

Jeongguk shrugs the weight of his jacket off his shoulders, twisting the cable attaching to his headphones so they unravel around his body and raises his thumb through the glass to the rest of the studio. On cue, the familiar sound of the opening melody to August Blue’s updated track, Hold Your Breath, floods through the speakers, slightly tinny but nonetheless clear for all to hear. While Sejin, August Blue’s manager, aids the producer by pointing out minor audio flaws, Jeongguk joins the rest of his band in the studio to gather around. The last to join the group is Seokjin, the drummer who rubs at his wrists pathetically, his duet of drumsticks poking out of his back pocket.

Sejin’s right- it does sound good.

The strums from Hoseok, Taehyung and Namjoon’s instruments sounds incredible, and it’s probably their strongest non-punk track of the year. Retrospectively, it sounds nostalgic, reminding Jeongguk of those summer evenings in Busan after a tiring day of school and garage-band practise with the guys. When the chorus moulds together, Jeongguk’s lips lift to a satisfied and exuberant smile, the harmonies from everybody’s vocals blending together before the chorus comes to a finale, and Namjoon’s deeper vocals come for the second round of verses.

As he listens, Jeongguk recalls the moment he sat down and wrote this song, back when he was eighteen and feeling like the world was against him. In that respect, this song means a lot to him and the band, reminiscent of a time where it felt impossible to get out of the garage and into venues. Then, when Friends brought them out of small Korean venues into charts abroad and giving them radio play, Jeongguk had stored Hold Your Breath on a memory stick and his worn out lyric book, until the right moment came for him to present it to a studio. It just so happened that ADORA, a respected and famous Korean producer based in the US-of-A, had loved the track, bringing it back to square one where Jeongguk stands still, unaware that the single has finished playing.

“It’s one of our best,” Namjoon admits bashfully, his hand brushing the back of his neck, a habit. He extends his gaze out to the rest of the band, “am I right?”

“Better than Friends?” Seokjin asks, surprised. He tilts his head as if he disagrees. “Nothing can beat Friends.” After that statement, something about another song comes up in conversation but it dies out over the sound of Hold Your Breath being rolled back and played again.

On the other side of Jeongguk, Hoseok hums and claps the younger on the shoulder, the sound of Jeongguk’s hiss ignored and silenced by the excited discussion over the track by the producers, lunch menus between Seokjin and Namjoon. With a slight wince, Jeongguk looks over at the bassist.

“It’s all thanks to you!” Hoseok says, a tight but honest smile on his face. “Without you, there’d be no songs. I’m telling you, we knew you were special!”

“Thanks, Hobi,” Jeongguk replies quietly. “Let’s hope people like it and it sells.”

“Why wouldn’t it?” Hoseok muses, frowning. “Just because it has a story doesn’t mean it won’t sell. Honestly, Guk, this one’s great. It’s gonna be amazing.”

Like always, Jeongguk finds that difficult to believe, despite records and albums selling luxuriously every time. It’s mandatory to doubt, especially when you’ve got a lot to lose; August Blue are just another band, another group of guys trying to make a name for themselves across the pond. Right now, they’re not huge, not as big as Jeongguk wants them to be- they can sell out a couple arenas, top charts and headline shows, but they’ve still got a long way to go, still got the prejudice of being foreign. If anything, that only motivates them more. Nothing feels better than proving the white man wrong.

“When it’s finished, we’ll have a promising B-side for the album,” starts Adora, the producer looking over her shoulder with satisfaction at the five guys. “I’d like to run through Dancer in the Dark, though? Adjust the drums, maybe add more to the sax?”

Jeongguk nods, taking a quick sip of water from a bottle on top of the small cabinet pushed to the wall of the studio. “Might work better as the A, actually. Guys, what’dya think?”

“Yeah, sure,” Namjoon replies. “It’s a good song- will probably look better with a music video too. Want us back in the booth for it?”

Adora shakes her head, rolling the song back up. “Nah. Just gonna listen for now. Good job, guys.”

With that, and the familiar opening melody of Dancer in the Dark filtering through the speakers, Sejin claps his hands and gives a thumb to the rest of the band, sending them off for an hour or two until they’re needed again. In ADORABLE TRAP Records, singers were more often than not props, voices for her to play with. Jeongguk provides a demo, a rough idea of what the song should sound like and Adora works her magic, changing tones and amplifying the bass, creating something magical and sensational for when August Blue regroup in the studio at a later time. The band trust Adora and her team, considering she’s half the reason why they’re big worldwide in the first place.

THREE AM is August Blue’s anticipated first full length album, after many months of EP’s and mini albums, alongside the handful of covers accumulated over the years. ATR expects it to be completed by the end of the week, with only minor final touches needed on a select few of the tracks, eleven seamless and sensually exciting songs ready to release to the budding and hungry public. Like always, the pressure of perfection hangs over the studio, intoxicating and infuriating, and as soon as he can escape the room, Jeongguk inhales the clean and purified air of the outer studio, where a leather sofa sits beside a flickering vending machine that’s surely seen better days.

Hoseok groans, massaging the cramp out of his shoulder with his leather jacket still in his hand, spinning wildly with the arms extended out, hugging the air. “God, I’m so fucking hungry. Shall we go out?”

“Mm,” Namjoon agrees, “sounds good. Guk, Jin, you in for some food?”

Somewhere behind Jeongguk, Seokjin sighs loudly- a noise that has the nerve to sound like a whine, childish and ungrateful. “I need to find new drumsticks. Look at the state of these things.” Over his shoulder, Jeongguk spies the blunt ends of Seokjin’s sticks, the smooth and rounded ends frayed and close to splintering.

“How did that even happen?” Hoseok asks incredulously, while Seokjin’s distinct laughter rises in volume.

“Don’t ask,” Seokjin shakes his head in reply. “Anyway, won’t take long. Isn’t that one store nearby? The one owned by the Daegu guy?”

Namjoon confirms this. Not too far away from ATR, located in a renovated storage house in Venice, there is a comfortably successful and trustworthy store that August Blue aren’t strangers to; DBOY is one of the best, expensive and well respected amongst musicians who frequent LA. Jeongguk recognises the name, as if on command picturing the small guy who runs it in his head. 

Of course, it’s not owned by him- DBOY is known for being established and owned by Min Dowoon, a retired music producer whose name is legendary amongst artists and most certainly intimidating to the likes of Busan boys like Jeongguk. Regardless, it is his son, Yoongi, who pretty much runs the place. From what Jeongguk can vaguely remember from the last time he met with Yoongi, he recalled the aforementioned to have a fine and grand collection of ostentatious instruments and equipment. As for the seller himself- well, Yoongi can be a little bit of a nouveau-riche, perhaps even unapproachable, but it’s not as if people go to DBOY looking for a conversation.

Jeongguk might be the lead vocalist of the band, but he most certainly does not regard himself the leader. Due to this fact, he stares back at the other members of the band, waiting for a decision to be made for him. While on stage, Jeongguk enjoys playing pretend and acting as if the world was his for the taking, his for his pleasure, off-stage he enjoyed living quietly and comfortably, some might say obediently, shying under the authority of his elder band-members.

“What? Yeah, of course,” Namjoon replies almost immediately. “It’s on the way to that Korean place we went to last time we came here.”

Taehyung sounds zealous at the mentioning of the Korean restaurant, which pretty much means everybody’s mind has been made up. When Seokjin catches up with Jeongguk and wraps his longer arms around him playfully, Jeongguk finally lets himself loosen the tension carved into his skin from the studio, being pulled and pulling Seokjin out of the studio and into the sunny street.

The drive to DBOY is neither long or difficult, considering the traffic has decided to fall on their side of luck today. Hoseok, who enjoys being the designated driver for the band whenever he can help it, turns right and pulls the car into the staff-only car park, uncaring for the signs that turn him away and parks awkwardly near the shrubs behind the store. 

Without being affected in the face of Seokjin’s disbelieving protests against Hoseok’s parking preferences, Jeongguk undoes his seatbelt in a grouchy silence and hops out, feeling the underneath of his knees aching due to the tightness of his jeans. The front face of his knees are torn, the tan skin poking out and slightly red from where, out of unhealthy habit, he scratches his skin, the only source of colour aside from his skin being the mustard of his shoes, comfy and worn out of love.

He always forgets just how warm America is- not that it’s not welcomed, of course. Only, now he half wishes he hadn’t worn an all-black ensemble, the sun hot on his neck and underarms. The rest of August Blue take their gentle time getting out of the hired vehicle, a cacophony on the right side where Seokjin and Hoseok have stepped out, arguing over the angle of the tyres as if it genuinely makes any difference considering the car is out of sight from the public, meaning it’s bothering nobody at all besides Seokjin, who appears to be the only person complaining. 

Jeongguk just rolls his eyes, over it, and brushes his untamed parting out of his eyes carefully, avoiding catching the curled strands on the bar of his eyebrow piercing.

DBOY, like always, is quiet and glorious, rising high against the bungalow-sized stores surrounding the lot. Its architecture is refined, boxy and brown and all-in-all American, a copy of every brown bricked building you’d see in the movies. And yet, it still stands out, with bright yellow accents like the colour of Jeongguk’s shoes, similarly promoted within the interior if Jeongguk remembers correctly. 

The first time Jeongguk had come here it had been with acquiesce, mostly just to shut Seokjin up after he read a few five star reviews online. That was around about the time Taehyung had joined the band, with little rockstar aura and a gift for the keyboard and saxophone, which incredibly added an accent to August Blue’s music that helped them chart worldwide, a Korean The 1975 as a headline which didn’t seem all that bad, given the leader of the latter seemed down to Earth about it. 

Jeongguk now cannot deny that DBOY offers something to a piece of music that quite literally no other can, hence why he sets off first towards the oversized yellow door and pushes it open with all its weight. Like Yoongi and his brusque facade, Jeongguk’s not shocked to find the door is a heavy metal, requiring attention to push it open, but yet it always catches him off guard, as if he’s expecting it to get easier each time.

Once inside, the all too familiar sound of I Want To Break Free greets his ears, the sound echoey and tinny, like you’d expect for a building with a high ceiling decorated with pipes drenched in the signature yellow. It is bright, and chilly as he enters due to the air-conditioning, yet the warmth engulfing him as all of the band enter and the door closes. On a good day, DBOY is virtually empty; majority of their orders are online and dealt with by another customs manager that is not the staff on duty, which coincidentally is how Yoongi likes it, considering he’s a bit of a black sheep, not exactly enthusiastic about talking when he can help it.

While Hoseok and Taehyung make a b-line towards the vinyls and collection of photographs that Yoongi displays in order to show off how many celebrities he’s had the delight of selling to, Jeongguk follows behind Seokjin and Namjoon as they head towards the desk, pushed towards the back of the store behind endless stacks of records, the left side of the store displaying a rare and gorgeous collection of instruments that Jeongguk ogles at as he passes. 

Yoongi is a personal collector of vintages, including exact pieces and similarly replicas, the newer models closer to the desk where the cameras can keep an extra eye on their condition. Jeongguk has half an idea to make a directional change and head right, but the opening to the operative desk appears before him, or over the shoulder of Namjoon as he walks behind him.

DBOY feels abnormally silent today, not even the distinct humming of Yoongi detectable in the stacks. Namjoon purses his lips, looking around half-heartedly before moving towards the desk, raising his hand to drum his fingers upon the varnished dark wood. The dull sound of his fingertips brings Jeongguk’s head away from the instruments, and similarly, a head from a book.

At first, Jeongguk’s only half-looking. In blunt honesty, he’s not too interested in whoever is behind the desk, a sigh leaving between his lips as he buries his hands into the pockets of his jeans with great difficulty due to the tightness, something which attracts the eyes of the little dove behind the desk, her eyes darting to the refined bulge of his biceps and veins crawling on his forearms.

“Oh,” comes a gentle voice that, with reluctance, pulls Jeongguk’s eyes back over. “Sorry. I didn’t even hear you come in! I didn’t even hear the bell…”

Namjoon’s eyebrows pull upwards. “You have a bell?”

“Yeah...I think?” Questionable. “Well, I thought we did...I bet Yoongi took it out again. Fucker, he doesn’t tell me anything.”

Seokjin leans backwards on one foot, taking a peek back towards the doors where, hoorah, there is a bell on the wall above the entrance. “Oh, look at that. Guess you do have a bell.”

“Well,” finishes the voice, and Jeongguk takes the chance to look at the little display on top of the desk, a complementary addition that spells out the cashiers name in a disgustingly ordinary font. Y/N is what it reads today, which Jeongguk makes a note of and looks away from at the same time. “That bell is definitely broken. Huh. Anyway, sorry. Can I help you?”

“Yoongi here?” Namjoon asks, his weight now entirely reliant on the weight of the desk. By this point, Jeongguk has led himself over to the instruments, the only sight of him being his back marked and outlined by the clinginess of his tee.

You nod once, smiling and slamming the book from your lap on the top of the desk. Never did Namjoon expect for the title to read The Encyclopedia of Sharks, and as you spin in your chair to heckle in the back office, Namjoon glances at Seokjin over his shoulder with an amused smile, his eyes gesturing back to the book earning Seokjin a snigger.

“...and you didn’t tell me the bell was broken at the door.”

Your voice enters the store once more from the back office, accompanied by the smaller frame of Yoongi as he discards a tinfoil ball into the trash underneath the desk.

“Sorry. Y/N, the bell at the door is broken,” Yoongi deadpans, and you sneer in reply, tugging away from his childish and playful smile to be seated. When he’s decided he’s finished fondly looking at you, Yoongi addresses the band in the room, a secondary smile lifts the corners of his lips. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry, tour,” Namjoon offers as an explanation.

“Don’t sweat it,” Yoongi shrugs in reply. “You recording?”

“As we speak,” Seokjin pipes in. “And, look- went to some stores in Vancouver for sticks last year and got given this!” His tone is elevated with genuine aghast, holding up his drumsticks and Yoongi pulls a face.

“That’s what you get for going somewhere other than here,” Yoongi frowns. “Come with me. The newest collection actually just came in. You all in here? Keep sticky fingers away from my signed records.”

The remainder of their conversation is muted for you, as you watch the group of guys shuffle away from the desk and towards the display of instruments. Whereas Yoongi holds an extensive knowledge on music and instruments, you can happily and readily admit that it is not within your comfort zone.

Truth be told, the only reason you work at DBOY is for money, and because Yoongi happens to be a relative willing to pay you more than you deserve. Family history is the reasoning for Yoongi’s undying devotion to music, alongside a half-completed degree in sound engineering that he tells people he’s got, because the two years he braved University sure as hell didn’t happen for no reason. 

As for you, you prefer the less audible arts, the ones starting and stopping with paintbrushes and splashes of colour. If someone were to ask, your job at DBOY offers a daily observation of the various album covers dotted around the store, ready to be fingered and thumbed when you’re changing the display shelves, or cleaning the trays.

In simpler terms, Yoongi is the expert. You’re just the person who sits behind the desk and pretends to be a professional.

“Newer Hickory over here,” says Yoongi, as he leads the three ducklings through the store towards the lined stacks of drumsticks. In awe, like a child in a candy store, Seokjin surges forward and gapes at the selection, his eyes glued to a signature collection, signed and overwhelmingly expensive. “Oh, yeah. Queen. Signed by Roger Taylor himself, wanna feel ‘em?”

Seokjin does want; his eyes light up like tiny lamps and they widen in size, followed by the rise and fall of his feet as he hops with literal overflowing excitement. Namjoon laughs at the sight of it, the sound eventually calling Hoseok and Sticky-Fingers-Taehyung away from the pride of Yoongi’s photo collection and towards the rest of the band. Something deep within Jeongguk claws, a smile on his face as he watches Seokjin get visibly excited over the drumsticks formerly belonging to Roger Taylor. Even Jeongguk himself, despite the sudden appearance of his angst, oohs and aahs at the stick set, being directed by Yoongi to the line of new guitars and boxes on show.

“New face?”

By the time Hoseok has settled with the group, Yoongi looks up from the set of Les Paul that Namjoon is admiring for its matte polish and notices Hoseok’s gaze pointed in your direction. Yoongi follows, his chin lifting with satisfactory pride when he sees you’re reading, as always, unfocused on the group and submerged in your own world.

When you wanted, you could be excited about celebrities when they came into DBOY, but there was honestly the high chance that you didn’t even know August Blue. Considering Yoongi knew them through connections and through a year exchange programme in Australia where he had met Jeongguk and gave him advice for the band, he of course felt familiar, close enough to actually consider the members to be friends.

“Sorta,” he admits in reply. “She’s been here a while now. Y/N.”

“She’s pretty,” Namjoon comments, which, to no surprise, irritates Yoongi. He glares in the direction of the guitarist and scowls, his face pulled up with disgust.

That’s when Jeongguk looks over, drinking in the sight of you for the first time ever. Usually, Jeongguk takes great pride in the fact that he fears attachment, therefore closing himself off emotionally to everybody outside of August Blue. Due to this fact, he almost never finds himself interested in anybody, his limitations at sex which, even then, he doesn’t engage in often. 

He spies on you from where he is standing, next to the electric guitar displays, watching carefully at the way you carry yourself, what you choose to show people. What you are doing now is boondoggle, skimming through pages you’ve read before to present the image of you being busy. By luck, you had dressed more nicer than usual for this date- your hair pulled half up and half down, the lilac scrunchy keeping the curls together and a black and white striped dress wrapping around your body to where Jeongguk predicts could be your knee.

Without being modest, there’s really nothing world-stopping about you. Jeongguk knows this as he stares at you; he’s had better, and definitely had worse. God forbid it, but you have the audacity to look normal, mistakenly placed in the store, sticking out like a thumb that is sore.

“She doesn’t look like she should be working here,” Jeongguk throws in, offers almost, and Yoongi regards him with the raise of his brows, an amused smile on his face.

A deep groan rises out of Namjoon’s chest. “Here we go. He always does this- every time there’s a pretty girl, he gets like this.”

“Gets like what?” Jeongguk asks, scoffing.

“Jerky,” Hoseok agrees, laughing and pointing a finger at Jeongguk accusingly. When he silences with small gasps of amusement, he smiles and says, “did you know it’s a turn off for girls?”

“Then tell me why I have more game than you?” Jeongguk quips.

Hoseok just laughs, and both of them know it’s false, considering Hoseok and his unofficial girlfriend have been hooking up for the last five months, whereas Jeongguk has remained single and sexless; which he doesn’t care about, especially when there’s a million other things he could be doing and worrying over. Comfort previously found in pillowcases and sexual endauvers can now be found in white powders and green liquids, either- either warm enough to keep him happy, at least until Seokjin tells him he should stop and put it to rest.

Yoongi quietly twists the key in the display lock after confirming that Seokjin wants the sticks in his hand. “She’s good. She does her job, and in return, I let her do what she wants when nobody’s in the store. Give it a break, yeah?”

Jeongguk scoffs with surrender, raising his shoulders as he lets it drop at Yoongi’s request. Meanwhile Yoongi answers questions about the instruments for sale, lined up for the band to gawk at with ungraciousness, Jeongguk actually turns back around. Another elongated sigh leaves his mouth, the sound of creeping boredom, and finally, his gaze once again settles on yourself. 

You’ve moved since he last looked over; the book on sharks is set on top of the desk again, and now you’re risen. From where he is standing, the desk curves, revealing that his predictions on dress length were fruitless considering the stretch of your dress rises above the knee, bunching around your thigh comfortably. He has to respect it- it’s hot in Venice.

Without particularly wanting to, Jeongguk’s legs wander from his original spot towards the desk, his eyes elsewhere to feign disinterest. The truth of the matter is that he isn’t really interested, unless you counted the dull rise of arousal in the pit of his stomach. That being said, Jeongguk glances up at your face once more and sucks air into his cheeks, hollowing the skin as he knocks on his heels and turns away from you before you can notice. Namjoon was right, to some extent. You were pretty.

“You like The Clash?”

A sweet voice hauls Jeongguk’s attention up and over towards the corner of the desk, where on the other side you stand with both hands flat on the surface, your entire body lifting your weight cutely. Jeongguk’s heart leaps and he glares down at his hands, finding London Calling in his hands, indicating that whilst on his solo mission of pretending to be preoccupied near you, he had just picked up the first thing in front of him.

Jeongguk clears his throat gruffly and shakes his head once. “No.”

For a few seconds, nothing is said. “Oh.” And Jeongguk hopes you’ll leave it there, let him pretend he’s invisible until he’s thought of something to say, but as always, his prayers are ignored. “Do you need help finding something?”

“No,” Jeongguk grits out. He speaks with acrimony, the tone at first catching you off-guard until he looks up, and his eyes tell a quiet story that makes your mouth close tightly. “I’m browsing. Am I not allowed to browse?”

Whether he likes or expects it, the way Jeongguk speaks makes a grin spread across your face, covering your original expression of surprise. He’s not quite sure how to feel about this, or what to make of how his chest feels when it happens.

“Sorry,” you reply, not exactly sounding apologetic. “It’s my job to ask, I guess. Well...enjoy your browsing. If you need me…” Repeatedly, his gaze lifts from the stack of CDs back towards you and it is only when you look away that he allows himself to slip, the smallest of frowns tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Although he knows better, Jeongguk sighs and pushes himself away from his end of the desk. It slides, semi-circular with the front in the store and behind it in its own secluded room, decorated with posters and old lockers that are used for storage. It doesn’t take looking up to register the fact that Jeongguk has moved next to you, parallel; something about Jeongguk feels particularly distinct, heavy and intimidating with the smell of hazelnut that enriches woody elements, a signature male smell that fills your nose.

“So.” Jeongguk starts over, his voice clipped but also clear, as though encouraging a conversation. To you, it feels unpredictable, almost as if talking to him was absurd; to Jeongguk, it is a bravado. “You like sharks.”

Out of surprise, your attention snaps towards him. His expression gives nothing away, and it is only when he raises his eyebrows expectantly that you remember the book, that stupid book you found under the desk when you clocked in this morning after your nine-am seminar. The Encyclopedia of Sharks, smiling razor blades face up at you and an embarrassed heat rises in your body.

“Um, not really?” you confess, avoiding the scrutiny of his stare. Jeongguk’s face is levelled into unamusement, challenging the fact you don’t like sharks in the same way you questioned his interest in The Clash. A bewildered smirk dawns on his face and you smile, tightly and revealing a dimple near your jaw that Jeongguk’s attention is pulled to. “I like Sharknado, though.”

“Right,” Jeongguk replies, finishing with a laugh that is mostly air through his teeth, a snigger of sorts, and he shakes his head downwards, fluffing his hair all within the same movement. It shocks you, genuinely, to hear a laugh come out from his mouth.

While he is busy sniggering to himself, because apparently what you said tickled his remaining sense of humour, you seize the opportunity to dance your eyes across his body. “Your tattoos are pretty.” It leaves your mouth carelessly, but Jeongguk looks up with a smile on his face, a gorgeous set of pearly whites on show.

“Yeah?” he asks, and then he flexes his arms unintentionally, peering at the black ink decorating his skin. Your mouth waters inside, soaking in the sight of him before it’s snatched away, like all the good things in your life. “Thanks.”

“Mhm,” you offer, feeling mortified.

“I saw you’re close with Yoongi,” Jeongguk mentions, after a short pause. “Boyfriend? Best friend? Super close colleagues?”

“What? Ew, no. Yoongi’s my cousin. Well. You know, when someone just becomes a cousin ‘cos you’re close,” you reply, and Jeongguk nods casually, pursing his lips, and it ends there. “Also...none of your business.” He smirks.

On cue, an eruption of laughter simmers from across the store where Yoongi and the rest of Jeongguk’s friends are gathered, and you swallow the lump in your throat and glance at him, finding he hasn’t looked away. “Are you guys, like...in a band, or something?”

Jeongguk doesn’t know what to say. Should he be offended or relieved that you don’t know who he is?

“Something like that,” he nods.

“Can’t be that popular then, if I don’t know you,” you tease, fighting the urge to laugh when Jeongguk’s face falls dramatically. “I’m kidding. What did you say your name was again?”

“We’re called August Blue.”

“No, I meant your name,” you laugh.

Jeongguk splutters, coughing nothing out of his throat. “Oh. Jeongguk.”

There is no reasonable explanation behind why Jeongguk’s stomach feels weird when you smile- it is an unspoken rule that Jeongguk doesn’t do feelings. Jeongguk doesn’t do romance period, only hooks up on the rare occasion that he’s high enough to feel something for someone other than himself. Yet something is unsettling inside, bubbling like the top layer of boiling water in a cauldron, threatening to spill out in waves.

“Well, Jeongguk from August Blue- who I shall be indulging in very soon, as in, when you leave the store and I can do it without you watching me-,” you pause when he laughs again. You wonder if he laughs often, or if you’re one of the lucky ones. “-, it’s a pleasure meeting you.”

“Is it?” he questions disbelievingly.

You tilt your head curiously. “Why wouldn’t it be? I mean, aside from you coming for me doing my job.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “Whatever. And, I’m just saying.”

A playfulness grabs at your shirt. “Why? Are you dangerous, Jeongguk?” Your eyes narrow into slits, challenging, and Jeongguk just smirks, exhaling softly. There is something charismatic about him, that’s for sure.

“All I’m saying, is that guys like me aren’t good for girls like you,” Jeongguk settles, unprepared for the unexpected laughter that bursts from your chest, bouncing around the room until Jeongguk actually feels somewhat uncomfortable. “What?”

But the laughter is uncontrollable, loud enough to bring Yoongi back to the desk questioningly, followed by the rest of August Blue as they shadow Yoongi like lost puppies. Yoongi pushes the small gate open and his eyes widen at you hunched over on the desk, secondly acknowledging Jeongguk as he stares deadpan at you, wondering what it was he said that was so comedic.

“You make it sound so simple,” you tell him, once the laughter has subsided. “It’s cute that you think you know what kind of girl I am.”

Hoseok side-eyes the situation as Seokjin fishes out his credit card, feeling as though they’ve all interrupted something they shouldn’t have. What is more shocking is the fact that Jeongguk accepts the challenge- he’s normally isolative with his voice when around new people, only comfortable at home or on the stage surrounded by people screaming lyrics he died to dream up and write down.

“Aren’t I right though?” Jeongguk asks, smiling like he’s got it figured out. “The pretty innocent girls like you...I’m the kind of guy your family warned you about.” While Namjoon snorts, Taehyung nods, supporting Jeongguk’s statement as you look over his shoulder at him.

Before you can even speak, Yoongi barks out a laugh, shaking his head as he returns Seokjin’s card. “Guk, you have no clue.”

If there’s one thing Jeongguk dislikes, it’s feeling as though he’s missing out on something. Back and forth, he looks at both yourself and Yoongi, waiting for an explanation. Yoongi prolongs it, finding sadistic enjoyment in the gradual irritation solidifying on his face, his tongue prodding his inner cheek with a bored expression to match.

“Dude, her daddy’s Axel Choi,” Yoongi snorts, and he laughs loudly when Jeongguk’s whole face drops to the floor, the butterflies in his stomach replaced with an instant sourness, like the bitter burn of alcohol after one too many glasses.

Bewildered, Jeongguk is rendered speechless, and while Yoongi burps laughter and makes a note of the stock now that Seokjin has purchased something, the respective remaining four members of August Blue share cautious glances, apprehensively watching what Jeongguk does or says. Saying Axel Choi feels stupid and minute, but within Jeongguk’s world, it has the same consequence as saying Lord Voldemort in Harry Potter. Whatever attempts Jeongguk has made to forgive or forget what Axel Choi once said to him in that 7-Eleven in Busan is fruitless, the judging and patronising tone clear in his ears, flooding back like a PTSD.

“Wait, what the fuck?”

“Ooh,” you start, lifting up with excitement, “what did he dooo?”, at the same time that Namjoon warningly mutters Jeongguk’s name.

“You look nothing like him,” Jeongguk says dumbly.

“That’s kinda where the step comes in. Stepdad, no blood relation, thank fuck!”

“Come on, Guk, it’s not like she was even there when he shat on all your hopes and dreams,” Yoongi frowns, raising his hand slightly in an effort to diffuse the tension. Purposefully, he ignores the way you look at Yoongi with question, realising instantly that Jeongguk’s behaviour isn’t a matter of personality but instead pride, a desperation to prove himself. “Lay off.”

“He’s family.”

“Is he fuck,” you snort, the sound and language together making Jeongguk even more confused, his head pounding with a mixture of nausea and relief, the upset of his seventeen year old self something he can’t quite shrug off, like the memory of a bad dream. “And, come on. Isn’t that unfair? Put it this way- your dad kills someone, should we go to jail too just because we’re family?” Jeongguk says nothing. “Besides, he’s been married to my Mom for like, six years? And I still don’t like him or get along with him!”

“We just have...bad experiences with him,” Namjoon admits, not forgetting to throw a glare in Jeongguk’s temperamental direction, and he reacts with a jerk, an annoyed scoff leaving his mouth.

Jeongguk crosses his arms. “He told us we’d never succeed. The fucker basically said we didn’t have the talent to be big.”

“And yet, here you are,” you point out thoughtfully, and Jeongguk pauses, acknowledging you fully. “People always succeed when others are negative. I guess we’ll just have to prove him wrong, hm?”

The funny part is that Jeongguk absolutely knows that you are right. In spite of the jarring fact that Axel Choi’s memory is now back in his life with the news of your connections to him, Jeongguk is fully aware of how none of this is your fault. Jeongguk knows better than anybody that baseless judgements were more often unhelpful and toxic than not, and instantly, an apology is brewing in his mouth, words connected by thin strings in his brain, formulating two simple words that feel impossible to mouth. 

Alas, rockstars and their inflated egos; Jeongguk swallows the words back down, battling the urge to say what’s truly on his mind because he’s afraid of what might come out in its place.

So he walks.

Dejected and confused, Jeongguk spares a look at everybody in the room before shaking his head, as if trying to get something out of his head. The worry that slightly pools in your stomach at the sight of it worsens when he storms back down the length of the stacks, closely followed by Hoseok who is a foot away from calling his name. For the rest of the band, it seems, this is instrinctic of Jeongguk, and they quietly but speedily finish up and follow suit. Before he exits, Namjoon smiles over at you, something hidden in the movement that assures you it’s not your fault, even when your agape mouth and stuttering starts suggest you feel otherwise.

Jeongguk makes it out of DBOY before his lungs cave inwards, the hot smell of air pumping into his body as he steps outside to catch his breath. Hoseok’s hand comfortingly presses between his shoulder blades as he finally catches back up with the younger, and Jeongguk refrains from snatching himself away. The demon in his head cackles and the desperate angel pets his hair, tells him that if he pushes more people away, he’ll have nobody. Jeongguk’s not sure if he’s heard that angel speak before.

Hoseok guides Jeongguk back towards the car, silently accepting that Jeongguk didn’t mean it. He never does. He quietly accepts it, patting his leg when Jeongguk sits down once the car is unlocked. Jeongguk doesn’t say a word, not even when the rest of August Blue pile in the car, animatedly talking about the Korean restaurant they’re planning to eat at next. Clockwork routine, they never bring it up afterwards.

The car pulls away and Jeongguk winds the window down with a frown. He’d like a cigarette.

Not that Jeongguk has been counting, but it has been four days since August Blue had visited DBOY. 

Against his tight schedules consisting of long hauls in Adora’s studio, revising songs and making minor changes to each track in preparation for the album release in a few days time, the mere memory of DBOY has been the last thing and least important thing on his mind. In sooth, he doesn’t think about it until he’s alone, vulnerable in his own personal comforts surrounded by white and red. The memory haunts him, keeps him awake for no reason. Jeongguk wishes he could go back, wipe the slate clean, listen to the angel and not be such a prick. He can do this- he does do this.

On the following day, Jeongguk wakes up with a free schedule, waking in bed with the dark grey sheets belted around his lower waist. Casting a glance to his phone that lights up distractedly with notifications, he sees that the time reads eleven am and he yawns. Knowing the rest of the band, they’ve probably scattered already; Hoseok had mentioned something off-handedly last night about spending the day with Roseanne, and Namjoon would most likely be reading alone or exploring with Taehyung, the final man of the hour, Seokjin, sleeping in until it hurts to sleep.

He could do the same, but he doesn’t. Instead, Jeongguk gets himself up and ready, finding his body lead itself back in the direction of DBOY, only realising that he’s come back when he’s outside the front blinking up at the sign.

Somewhere down the street, the sound of screaming reaches his ears- sometimes it’s hard to escape the fans who long for a glimpse at their idols, and to avoid them catching on as to where he’s fled to, Jeongguk hurls himself through the heavy metal door and into the store. It comes as no surprise that it’s empty inside, cool again and this time bursting the lyrics to a Fleetwood Mac record he can’t quite remember the name of but recognises.

The long walk down the length of the aisle is intimidating, daunting as Jeongguk walks and sees nobody behind the desk. Aside from the echoed sound of Fleetwood Mac, the store is virtually silent- admittedly, there is a small group of teenagers at the other end talking quietly, but they are so muted that Jeongguk at first doesn’t realise they are there. Instead he continues forward, slowing significantly when he reaches the desk and finds absolutely nobody in attendance.

For a second, Jeongguk considers leaving. However, the herd of fans he had stalking him outside are no doubt still outside somewhere, and as soon as he considers it, the sound of your voice makes his head snap up attentively. The door that joins the desk space to the back office rattles slowly and then pulls open, and Jeongguk inhales a breath when you step out, as charming as you were five days prior.

Jeongguk is all you see when you pick your chin up, staring at his face closely as he hovers lumpishly, looking out of place. Before he can speak, you regard his appearance, a flattering mixture of tonal blacks; the tight leather jacket covering a black roll neck and tight skinny jeans, even the trademark face-mask that has been pulled below his face, hanging by his neck.

“Oh,” you breathe softly, stunned. “Jeongguk, right?…”

“Hi,” he replies, and you take pleasure in noticing the dulled volume of his voice. “You’re here.”

He considers it a win when you smile. “Well, I do work here.”

“Yeah, I know, I don’t know why I said that,” Jeongguk mutters. “I just...Are you free?”

You make your way towards the desk, gently kicking an empty storage box with your feet. “Sadly, I am always free. You know, considering Yoongi is so popular, this shop is always empty. What’s up with that?” It’s rhetorical, and Jeongguk laughs gently. “What’s up? Left something here? I didn’t think you’d come back...well, after…”

Jeongguk frowns immediately, the unmissable darkened gaze of regret on his face. “That’s actually why I came back. Look.” He sighs, deeply and loudly. “I know it’s not your fault. With Axel.” As he speaks, your gaze is glued on him, your eyes occasionally scanning various parts of his face. “And it’s so fucking unfair for me to hold you against things he said before you even knew him, or whatever, yknow? I guess it just caught me off guard.”

You nod genuinely. “It happens.”

“And, look, I know I don’t even really know you that well, but I can tell you’re just nothing like him,” Jeongguk continues, his temper rising slowly. “You’re kind, and funny, and he’s just an asshole and-” But he stops. And, what? And, he’s still family.

“You’re right,” you agree, laughter spilling from your tongue. “No, he’s the biggest asshole. And his music sucks, let’s be honest.” Jeongguk’s mouth opens, like he wants to speak. “No wonder it took him fourteen years to make a hit…” And he laughs, loudly and in agreement. 

It must be a rarity to see him smile, to hear him laugh; with your heart in the sky, staring at Jeongguk laugh makes you feel warm, your hands quivering with satisfaction at the way his eyes curve into horizontal brackets, like moons, his teeth free with the comfort of knowing he’s safe being happy.

So, explicitly, he doesn’t say sorry like he wanted to. He tries- the words are right there, it would be easy, it is easy. As always, you are understanding, sympathetic to Jeongguk as he struggles to get his words out coherently. You know what he means. You like that he cared enough to try, anyway.

Realistically, he could have left it there, and maintained that stereotypical air of mystery and unavailability he’s used to showing people. On the contrary, Jeongguk finds more reasons to slink back towards DBOY, until he’s entirely familiar with your work schedule, having accidentally turned up when you were at a lecture, and had to suffer the pressing curiosity of your cousin. Yoongi had been so over Jeongguk pretending he was here out of personal pleasure of being surrounded by music that he had eventually just told him your work times, prompting Jeongguk into working harder in the studio to ensure more free time.

Like always, nobody in the band minded. If it meant Jeongguk was investing his spare time in something other than his own loneliness, they were happy to let it be. As for yourself, the reoccuring showing of Jeongguk in DBOY was at first, something you anticipated until the third showing where he had turned up in what you think might be his best look yet. Finally, he wears splashes of colour, his aura breathing with life as he turns up to the store wearing blue denim jeans, with maroon boots and a red beanie over his hair which has been flattened.

Each visit from the man is memorable in its own way, for either parties; you gradually learn that Jeongguk was the lead singer of August Blue, his accent distinctly Australian no thanks to his mother’s dual citizenship that resulted in many family holidays out there, and the year abroad that had chanced him to meet Yoongi. In return, Jeongguk learns that you haven’t even turned twenty yet, your birthday approaching soon, and that your a dilettante, knowing virtually nothing technical about music and instead comfortable in the field of physical art, a first year studying visual art and media.

Jeongguk learns all of this on the third visit. On the fourth, he finds out that you’ve finally listened to his bands music in time for their album release the following day, now in love with the truth of their lyrics, a direct quote from your mouth that Jeongguk remembers perfectly. And on the day of THREE AM’s release, on one of his final days before tour preparations are due to start, Jeongguk finds himself in DBOY with the sound of his own voice on the speakers, and the breathtaking sight of you dancing while stacking the shelves.

It’s a new track, one off the album that dropped this morning. Dancer In The Dark plays all around him, his mind reeling when he reaches you, your back to him and hips twirling as you work. You don’t even need to turn around for Jeongguk to know that you look gorgeous- that’s something that has changed over the past few weeks of Jeongguk returning to DBOY to see you, and annoy Yoongi, respectively. 

Something inside of Jeongguk now craves you, beyond the simple lust he would have imagined. Perhaps it’s the way you didn’t know who he was, treated him like a human being rather than a God; maybe it was the way you’re so ordinary, a taste of normality Jeongguk misses, or the way you’re a relation to someone he’s been working for the past four years to prove wrong. It could well be all three.

The baby blue teddy coat over your body covers your skirt, a display of smooth and tanned legs for him to leer at, your hair once again twirled into loose curls, half up and half down, a signature style like Ariana’s high pony. 

Evidently, you’re unaware of his entry. Yoongi still hasn’t changed the bell above the door and the speakers playing his record are right above your head; this gives Jeongguk the perfect opportunity to quietly approach you from behind, waiting until the chorus fades to an end for him to carefully press his hands into your waist with a soft “boo” pushing between his lips. 

In turn, you jump, his hands momentarily cupping your waist as you move out of his grasp, turning around defensively to see who in the right mind would dare to put a hand on you, only for the guard to be dropped with reassurance once you see Jeongguk behind you, a grin on his face.

“Hi, you,” you say to him, wincing when you realise how loud the music is. “Congrats on the album release!”

Jeongguk laughs boyishly. “Yeah? You like it?”

“Mhm!” you assure, nodding with emphasis. Jeongguk follows the hint of moving away from the loud music as his voice transitions into the opening chords of a David Bowie track. “Do you even have a bad song? Like, the difference between Vibes, Dancer in the Dark and Keep it Up...gorgeous.” He laughs again, feeling over the moon at your authentic excitement. “I really love your voice.”

If humans could melt, Jeongguk would be gloop. “Thanks, Y/N. I mean it, I’m glad you like it.” His brows quirk playfully, “Clearly.” He means your dancing, circular swirls to his voice, and you conceal a smile and look away quickly.

“I recognise Hold Your Breath, too,” you continue, choosing to deliberately ignore his playful comment. One might even assume it to have been flirting. “Isn’t that one of your earlier songs?”

By this point, you’ve hopped over the desk, slid over the wood as Jeongguk watched your coat and skirt hike up with the lift of your leg. “Mmm. I see you’ve done your homework,” he comments.

“I got...curious,” you defend weakly. “I like that song. I’m so glad you decided to do a studio version, it is what she deserved!”

Today might be a new record broken for How Many Times Can Jeon Jeongguk Laugh In Your Company.

“Well, there you have it. You can listen to all of it in HD to make up for me not being here for a while.” Your smile falters and Jeongguk smiles in an attempt to ease your disappointment. “We start our promotions next weekend, actually. Just a couple shows in the States, nothing huge.”

“Oh,” you nod, your voice oddly lost and spacious. “Ugh, I’d love to see you live. I bet it’s gonna sound amazing.”

A breath hitches in Jeongguk’s throat. Come on, idiot, jeers the demon inside of him. The angel slaps him on the back of the head but his words do not cease. You haven’t got all day to do it.

“Then come,” he blurts.

Mirroring him, your mouth falls round, open. “...O-M-G, I’d love to...but I’m like...broke,” you tell him, jokingly but around the truth you both know is there.

“Y/N, you can come for free, I’m inviting you,” Jeongguk explains slowly, the grin widening on his face. Awestruck, you’re lost in the beauty of it. “I want you to come. See us play, see me. You won’t have to pay for a single thing- everything’s on me.” He breathes, “Please,” added as an afterthought.

Admittedly, he hadn’t anticipated the following silence. “When?” you ask, breathily.

“Next Saturday,” Jeongguk offers, having thought about it since before the album came out. “At the Hollywood Palladium. It’s our opening show, and I’d just really, really like for you to be there.” You think about the date for a moment, smiling when you realise what day the date falls on.

“Hollywood? That’s...amazing, Jeongguk, really,” you tell him, your voice quiet still. “...Can I bring a friend? When I listened to August Blue, they were there and we both got really invested.”

A weight is lifted off Jeongguk’s shoulders knowing that his offer has been considered. He smiles brightly, the moons back out. “Depends. Is your friend male?”

Now it is your turn to grin, your weight held up by your elbows as you lean on top of the desk towards him, slotted between his hands. His familiar hazelnut scent is strong here. “Yes. He’s male, gay, and incredibly in love with my cousin.”

What Jeongguk feels is not relief, or irritation; an elevated feeling of happiness stirs in his chest. You are so unlike anybody he’s met, from the way you see the humour in everything he says, not taking him seriously enough to treat him like he’s better than everything else, and the way you make him feel like there’s something about him worth liking; to the way you’re probably the only person he’s ever met who genuinely likes the Sharknado franchise. It without a doubt goes without saying that good things pop up where you least expect them to, in people you didn’t anticipate meeting. Feeling like his head is in the clouds, Jeongguk’s lips press together into a smile, bashful in appearance and nods, satisfied.

“Okay then,” he nods, taking a second to grasp the situation before he laughs to himself, scratching his ear absentmindedly. “Here’s my number for then, then. You can call me when you arrive, and then I’ll come out and get you, or I’ll have our manager sort some things out, so you can skip the lines and get in before everyone else.”

“Alright,” you agree softly. “Thank you, Jeongguk.”

Although he shakes his head nonchalantly, feigning only a moderate amount of happiness, on the inside, Jeongguk’s body is screaming, his heart vibrating rapidly in his chest. On the other side, even when he bounces into a following conversation about your hair and the new book placed on the desk that you’ll probably read when you’re bored later today, you feel like you can’t breathe, can’t quite comprehend the fact Jeongguk is standing before you, his number in your phone, the sun unmatching his smile.

Some things don’t feel right, but being with Jeongguk isn’t one of them. Maybe luck is on your side for once.

(LOS ANGELES)

“So. You’ve decided to be late.”

Adjacent to where you’re standing, Park Jimin lies like a starfish on your bedsheets, his chin tilted up to the ceiling in agonising boredom as you fuss over your hair for the literal fifth time in the last four minutes.

Meeting Jimin was both the joy and the bane of your life, the boy being an unstable balance of chaotic and neutral, his sole purpose in life being to annoy the shit out of you. It had been a lovely sunny morning the day you first met him- only it had begun to thunderstorm the second he entered the arts classroom, pathetic fallacy. Being the quiet black sheep clearly did not always work in your favour considering the only spare seat left was the one next to you, meaning fate had decided to bring you both together to sketch still-life pears and grapes. Either that or a case of big, bad luck- the opinion differed depending on who you asked.

Regardless, here you both are; by cordial invite from Jeon Jeongguk himself, you have around twenty minutes to get to a venue that is thirty five away, and Jimin huffs for the fifth consecutive time, pointedly glancing over as you finish applying a generous amount of lipstick that no doubt will fade during the show. Your face is an art-piece, your body modestly covered in a silk buttoned shirt patterned with red flowers, tucked into some comfortable black jeans that Jimin turns his nose up at.

“They’re comfortable,” you argue weakly, finally following him to the car and deciding to do your shoes in the backseat. As half promised over text, Jeongguk sent a vehicle, the driver impatient and displeased by your tardiness but he says nothing, because it’s his job to drive, not to speak.

“Skinny jeans are the most impractical outfit for getting dicked down,” Jimin says with a clipped tone. “And isn’t it obvious that Jeongguk wants to do that?”

You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. “It might not be like that.”

Jimin genuinely laughs. “Oh, come on- it totally is. Why else would he invite you backstage, send a car, and stop by at your work almost daily?”

“Maybe he wants to be friends?” you suggest, but both you and Jimin know that’s so far from the truth that you can’t even see it- you just don’t want to admit it just yet. When Jimin’s tongue darts out of his mouth with a smirk, you roll your eyes and lean down to your feet as the driver cruises down the street on the clock.

[17:39PM] Jeongguk 🎼: hey are you on your way?? [17:39PM] Jeongguk 🎼: havent heard from u [17:40PM] Jeongguk 🎼: u ok?

About ten minutes into the drive, almost peaceful save Jimin’s random questions about Jeongguk, or the venue, neither particularly answerable at this stage, a series of notifications flood your phone. Taking the chance to answer while Jimin finds time to bully the driver into talking to him to cure his driving boredom, you glance down at the messages, your body reacting with a flush when you see Jeongguk’s name light up in bold.

[17:41PM] You: yes !!!! in the car rn

His reply is instantaneous.

[17:41PM] Jeongguk 🎼: ok cool 😋 as long as ur safe [17:42PM] Jeongguk 🎼: got worried lol

“Five minutes,” the driver calls, to nobody in particular as he pulls up to a set of traffic lights. Oblivious to speed limits, he seems to have got you there in the designated twenty, before the gates opened for the crowds outside.

[17:44PM] You: we will be there in five minutes ☺️ [17:44PM] You: : i’ll text you when we’re here [17:45PM] Jeongguk 🎼: ok cutie, see you then 😛

You are grown, and too old to be crushing over a boy like you’re in high school, but the way Jeongguk interacts makes your toes curl with a whole new alien type of fondness, the need to giggle paramount. You refrain from doing so, because if Jimin hears he will never let you live it down. In an effort to ignore the excitement and nervousness coursing through your veins, your leg bounces erratically as the driver, who is apparently named Joe after the chauffeur bodyguard in The Princess Diaries (no thanks to Jimin and his “boredom” which borders insensitivity), pulls up in the barricaded staff car park. The fans outside have no idea: they just see a car and start screaming, their cheers making goosebumps ripple up your arms like romantic kisses.

“That makes me feel really important,” Jimin mutters, perhaps glum about the fact that he hasn’t had this much attention since he was chubby and innocent in third grade. “Ready to go?”

“Yep,” you breathe, unsure as to whether or not you mean it. Nevertheless, Jimin opens the car door and steps out, instantly making a crowd gathered by the barricade scream. They scream for anything, just wanting to be heard, but being Jimin, he soaks it up as you clamber out on the other side.

Jeongguk seems particularly popular, and it probably wouldn’t look good if fans saw an unknown girl get out the car to go backstage. You know how fans are, how it’s easy to jump to conclusions without the facts. While Jimin raises his hand to teasingly wave at the girls who scream in response, you follow Bodyguard Joe to the backstage door guarded by two oversized muscular men, bowing your head as you enter and feel the heat of the backstage rooms hit you in the face.

At some point, Jimin joins you inside, shuffling around your body when he spots Yoongi appear at the end of the opening corridor. Yoongi is always invited to August Blue shows, by personal invitation of the band-members who are mostly Namjoon. Remembering that Jeongguk technically has no idea you’re here, you quickly shoot him a text message before a female staff member touches your shoulder gently, offering a lanyard with VVIP written in black ink, likely a band members handwriting. She smiles, quickly running over the safety regulations because, give her a break, it’s her damn job. You’re nodding, acknowledging her words blindly until she’s done, sending you on your way towards Taehyung who pops his head around the corner and smiles brightly when he sees you.

“Hey, you!”

Quite honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever said a word to Taehyung before. He doesn’t seem particularly awkward to speak to you despite this fact, and beckons you closer with a wave of his hand. As you draw nearer, you smell the faint aroma of vodka crossed with raspberry, clinging to his clothes and mouth as he comes close to speak so you can hear him over the heavy bass filling the speakers.

“What?” you ask him loudly, seeing his mouth move with nothing coming out. All you can hear is the recording of Obsessive on the speakers, pounding, reverberating the floor beneath your Dr Martens.

“I said,” Taehyung shouts, his lips on your ear, “Jeongguk’s waiting for you. I need a wee really badly, but he’s in the artists lounge, that way.” He points vaguely in a direction, but the sight of Jimin stepping in and out of a room indicates the general direction regardless. “Enjoy the show, yeah?”

“Course!” you nod to him, and he wastes zero seconds staring at you and legs it in the opposite direction, towards where you assume the toilets are. Your eyes follow him as he leaves in endearment; he’s cute, constantly looking bewildered and confused. It’s his almond eyes, like puppy dogs’.

But the thought of seeing Jeongguk outweighs watching Taehyung leave; you hurry down the corridor and enter the room you expect to be the artists lounge, and your breath is taken away immediately when Jeongguk is the first thing you see.

As if anticipating your entry, he stands the second you enter, and while he moves, you freeze. Jeongguk looks absolutely breathtaking: his hair is curly, falling over his face with a slight parting not directly centered, hooped earrings hanging from his earlobes, adding a sparkle secondary to the way his eyes are shining in the backstage lights. His skin is gorgeously tanned, shaded and accentuated by the slipping material of his shirt that reveals the expanse of his collarbones, the black complementing the tightness of his jeans. You don’t get to look at his shoes- he stops at your toes and you peer back up at his face, rendered speechless by the smile on his face.

“Hi,” Jeongguk says, laughing as if it’s so crazy that you’re here, actually here. Before you can even think of speaking, Jeongguk inhales a breath and brings it back in with one movement; he reaches for you, encircling his arms around you for a quick hug that you’re not going to let go to waste. As soon as he feels your hands on his back, he pulls you closer, tighter almost, one hand on your lower spine and the other on the back of your head.

The hug is genuinely short, but it feels eternal.

“You made it,” he comments, his voice so bewildered that for a moment, you’re actually confused. Jeongguk speaks insecurely and it makes your heart wrench- you wonder who hurt him before, what made him think that he wasn’t deserving of things as simple as somebody coming to a show when he asked them to.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” you tell him truthfully, your arms slipping to his forearms. “I’m excited!”

Jeongguk grins happily. “Me too! Ah, I’m happy you’re here. You look gorgeous.” And without shame, he drags his gaze up and down your body.

“That’s good, then,” comes Jimin’s thrown in comment from across the room, where he occupies one of the leather seats next to Yoongi and across from Hoseok, who fidgets skittishly and fiddles his fingers at a Rubix cube. “Do you know how close we were to being late because she was busy deciding a lip colour? Jimin should I go red or nude? Jimin does this shirt go with my shoes? Jimin should I paint my nails red or black to match?”

A laugh ripples out of Jeongguk’s chest and he looks back at you adoringly.

“That’s not how it happened,” you protest weakly, pouting when Jimin cackles and smirks. “And we made it didn’t we? Shut up before I revoke the plus one card.”

“I’m already here, though,” Jimin reasons.

“I’ll force you outside,” you reply.

Yoongi pulls a face, then, finally joining the conversation. “Y/N, you can’t even open the front door to the shop when you enter, let alone drag Jimin outside. Nice try, though.”

An offended gasp leaves your mouth and Jeongguk turns around, petting the top of your head. “It’s okay. Sometimes, even I can’t open it. Anyway- drink?”

You decline this offer, not really wanting to drink anything heavy in fear of vomiting it up when the show starts. Based on your history, throwing up when you’re overly excited seems to be a dirty habit, something Jimin is very happy sharing when you opt for a glass of water while Jeongguk carefully pours himself a glass of whiskey. He doesn’t tease or poke fun. Jeongguk simply smiles, like the story is a memory he’s fond of remembering, and nods you in the direction of the couch where he wants you to sit. It stays this way right up until the show starts, and then the chaos begins and the nerves settle.

Now, you’ve never been backstage before, never seen how crazy it gets as the show’s about to start. While the rest of the band hurry around collecting outfit pieces, taking a drink or tuning their instruments to perfection, Jeongguk quietly tugs at your arm and brings you to the side, a gentle and reassuring smile on his face, a frequently used expression when it concerns yourself.

“Rachel is our main backstage manager and she’s gonna take you and Jimin down to where I’ve put you for the show, yeah?” he explains, his gaze intent. Rachel is the woman from earlier, smiling patiently near the door. You spare her a glance and then look back at Jeongguk. “I’ve put you down by the stage so I can see you, okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.”

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re not in the crowd, you’re right by the stage in front of the barricade with the staff,” Jeongguk says. “Safe and sound, comfy and cosy. Can you come back after the show? There’s a party. I’ll- I’ll take you?” His tone is expectant, hopeful, and you’d be absolutely insane to let him down.

“I’ll come,” you promise. “Good luck!”

Again with the boyish charms; Jeongguk’s following smile is relaxed and lopsided, his head similarly quirked.

“Thanks, baby,” he calls, his smile widening when he notices the surprise flood your cheeks. “Cheer loud for me?”

“Always,” you tell him, gauging the scrunch of his eyes before Rachel directs both Jimin and yourself out of the backstage vicinity and towards the VVIP standing just next to the barrier. Whether or not Jimin overheard the entire ordeal is unclear; he doesn’t comment even if he did happen to overhear, remaining uncharacteristically silent until you reach your spot and he loosens up, gazing up at the stage in wonder.

When the venue feels packed to the brim and the reverberating bass of guitars literally vibrates the room, Jimin screams something about his excitement over the noise, catching your widened smile in his direction and laughing, throwing his arms around you.

Hollywood Palladium is genuinely packed to the brim, the fans by the barricade stamping excitedly as the VCR rolls to an end, the lights fade to a crimson red and silhouettes of August Blue appear on the stage. They are sensational, eliciting a chorus from the crowd that is deafening. Jimin laughs again, looking back and forth at the crowd and back at the stage, two girls from the barricade recognising him as the guy from outside and taking a photo, likely anticipating that he is of importance.

Like all concerts, the first five minutes are mind-blowing, epic and fantastical and slightly nerve-racking for all parties. At the sound of the opening chords of Meddle About, another wave of screams pierce the crowd and you wince, not expecting it but a smile still wide on your face. The cymbals crash and the lights flash brightly, revealing Jeongguk on the stage at the front, both his hands on the microphone as he speaks the first words of the night, lyrics dripped in smooth vocals that make your body swirl like on drugs. It’s mesmerising, sexy and sounding perfectly like the studio recording.

Hearing them live is a whole different experience- the way that August Blue perform is otherworldly, feeling like you’re in a subspace of slow-motion, every movement on stage emphasised. Not wanting to waste all of the show gawking at the lead vocalist, you glance at all of the other members, in awe of their talents and presence on the stage, even spotting the golden gleam of a saxophone in your peripheral vision. It is only then that you register the fact that Taehyung plays the saxophone live, and excitement and anticipation replaces birthed nerves from the opening song.

When Meddle About fades to a finale, Jeongguk smiles to himself widely as the melody to Obsessive plays almost immediately after, Namjoon’s riff introducing Jeongguk’s welcoming, “Hollywood Palladium, are you ready?” before he dives into the song. Here, Taehyung fiddles for his sax and beams down at both you and Jimin, returning to his spot to play as the song continues.

Like all songs from August Blue, you wish it would never end, your heels grinding the floor as you bop in Jimin’s arms, his chin buried in your neck as he rocks you from side to side affectionately. For the entirety of the song, and even after then, you refuse to take your eyes off Jeongguk; he moves with calculation and care, the world his bitch beneath his feet as he smirks, fucking the crowd, swirling in figure eight motions as he sings. Jeongguk is the eighth wonder of the world.

Obsessive ends, your torso rising and falling after their performance. It was a show of elan, your body buzzing with small vibrations like a bumblebee; Jeongguk’s hair is disheveled, and he exchanges caring looks with the other members, giving them the opportunity to catch their breath as he once again addresses the crowd.

“Hollywood…” he starts, smiling wolfishly when the crowd erupts into piercing screams, the fans at the barrier pounding against the metal bars impatiently and Jimin eyes them cautiously, wrapping his arms tighter around you and considerately shuffling further away. Jeongguk glances down, then, making sure everything is okay, and his eyes fall on you. The first thing he sees is your smile, enamoured and bright and wide, like golden light at the end of a dark tunnel he can’t get out of. You notice now that he speaks how strong the accent is, months and years of Australian visits clearly paying off. It’s nice, new and different, completely unlike how he speaks in Korean. “We feelin’ good tonight?”

The crowd respond gleefully, and Jeongguk chuckles into the microphone.

“Thank you all for coming out here tonight,” Jeongguk begins, swaying slightly on his feet. The movement is endearing. “Being here, on this stage, is something we have dreamed about, and now that we’re here...Wow. We couldn’t be here without you guys. Everyone who’s here- friends, family, lovers-” the crowd scream because they’re used to being mentioned this way, but when Jeongguk’s gaze briefly flickers down to you, you immediately burn up, curling into Jimin as your best friend laughs knowingly, squeezing you tighter when Jeongguk finishes his speech to the crowd, “-you guys are fucking awesome. You like the album?”

Of course, Jeongguk is not alone on the stage. Reminded of this fact, you pay attention to each members introduction, occasionally finding your eyes wandering back to the lead vocalist who seems to always be staring back. In a sea of screaming fans and waving banners, Jeongguk’s eyes land on you each time, as if reminding himself that you are here, you are here for him.

When the band finish their introductions and Jeongguk says his piece, and the opening hum from the guitars around him announce Dancer in the Dark, Jeongguk glances at you one final time and sees the way your body reacts to the song familiar to your ears, a curve extending the corner of his mouth. Jeongguk brings his attention back to the crowd where it will stay for the rest of the concert, his mind wandering between each lyric and break. Maybe- just maybe, things would work out for him in the end.

DEVIL IN THE DARK. (HOLLYWOOD)

There is a constant hum in your ears, your fingertips vibrating as you force yourself out of the car.

Judging by the sky draped in an ebony black, it’s either extremely late or extremely early, the loud music from the large estate already audible and you haven’t even entered the party yet. Even though Jeongguk had expected to take you in his personal vehicle to the party that would celebrate their first American show of the year, things hadn’t exactly gone to plan; his eyes met yours as soon as you hurried backstage to find him, pleading and frantic and your name on the tip of his tongue, unspoken when Rachel ushers the band out of the venue after an already overstayed welcome. Still, the frequent vibration of your phone under your thigh when you settled travelling with Yoongi and Jimin instead kept your thoughts preoccupied, Jeongguk’s contact practically permanent on your lock screen.

[23:40PM] Jeongguk 🎼: shit !!!!! [23:40PM] Jeongguk 🎼: i wanted to wait but they kept pushing me outside [23:41PM] Jeongguk 🎼: did u get out safe? [23:43PM] You: yep don’t worry !!! [23:43PM] You: we’ll be on our way soon [23:44PM] You: im hungry so we’re getting food first oops [23:45PM] Jeongguk 🎼: ok baby see u soon [23:45PM] Jeongguk 🎼 is typing…

The triple dots are constant.

Bodyguard Joe is the driver who drops you off, muttering under his breath when all three of you pile out the back and he’s free to leave. Before Yoongi can even shut the door properly he is speeding away, desperate to get out of there. Yoongi can’t say he blames him- he’s only staying for a little bit, at least until Jeongguk starts being Jeongguk. He deliberately doesn’t mention it to you. He wants you to see it for yourself.

Inside, it’s hard to see through the smoke. There had only been about fourty minutes difference between Jeongguk arriving there and the three of you, and evidently, they waste no time bringing the party into motion. Already, guests either by invite or chance are drunk, intoxicated with dark beer bottles and shot glasses, a wreckage of splintery glass by the door surrounded by a pair of shoes, like a warning. The lights are dimmed, each room dark save a lamp with a dying bulb or LED lights, flashing rainbow colours to the beats of songs, the smell of alcohol and weed lifting in the air. It’s rancid, strong and pungent but typical of parties you’d expect celebrities within the realm of Jeongguk to do, people who held the world at arms length.

Along the wall, the coat pegs are covered in a bundle of mismatched coats and jackets, a single Converse hanging by its laces as some sort of practical joke. In light of this, you decide to just keep your coat thrown over your shoulders, the black suede comfortable and moreover protective as faces you’ve never even seen before regard you with high interest as you pass. Jimin scowls and drags you closer to him, Yoongi leading the way with a gaze that could kill, parting the sea of dancers like Moses. The vibe, however, remains undisturbed, the bodies continuing to dance and drink as they were before Min Yoongi stepped through the mix, with two virtual nobodies behind him. He knows where he’s going- he’s done this before.

This mansion is a maze, with corridors leading everywhere, filled with bodies you didn’t know. You deduce that the main parlour where you’re headed to is the hub of the party, judging by the way the small groups of people outside become multiplied, the sound of laughter and music louder when you enter through a doorway. The room is soaked in an indigo neon light, the long haul of strip lights attached to the moulding by the ceiling by silver pins; almost all of August Blue accommodate one of the recliner sofas, one particular male suspiciously absent.

“Yoongi!” Faintly over the sound of the music, Namjoon’s voice carries its way to your trio, Yoongi’s attention moving to the band and he moves in that direction, with both Jimin and yourself close on his heels. Namjoon already looks affected by the alcohol stirring in a whiskey glass, the colour clear and making no difference when it sloshes over the side onto the bare skin of his forearms. Exchanging a tight lipped smile with Hoseok, who seats a beautiful girl on his lap who sips her drink quietly, you glance around the room for Jeongguk, your heart sinking when you don’t spot him anywhere.

“Great show,” Yoongi says, now that the music has been turned down somewhat, no thanks to Taehyung who has just stepped out of the bathroom and winced at the volume, now sitting back in his original spot beside Seokjin and his widened legs. As an afterthought, he adds, “as always. This is Jimin, by the way- and you know Y/N.”

Seokjin looks up from his glass: “Hi honey. Good night?”

“Yes, it was amazing,” you reply, your eyes wandering again. A few strangers are seated on the couch alongside the members, including three girls you aren’t familiar with. Two look out of this world, mentally vacant and the third watches you carefully, her lips pouted sourly. “Hello,” you call to her, uncomfortable.

“This is one of Rosanne’s friends, Cassandra,” Seokjin introduces, although he doesn’t sound particularly enthusiastic.

“Cassie,” she throws in.

“Oh, like the song,” you judge, looking back at Seokjin and catching the roll of his eyes before he can hide it away. Concealing a smile you look back at Cassandra.

“Yeah. Isn’t that funny?” she asks, giggling sweetly. “I like to tease Guk about it. It gets him shy. Did you see him on the way in, by the way? I’ve been looking for him.”

Oh. So she’s one of them- it’s evident in the way August Blue glance over at her with annoyance, glancing back at you with a blank stare. You know better. “No, actually. I just got here.”

“Well,” Cassandra-Cassie continues, smiling tightly, the look so ingenuine that it looks as though it hurts her to fake politeness, “if you see him, let him know that I’m looking for him.”

“Does he even know who you are?” Jimin asks before he can stop himself. Cassandra narrows her eyes.

“We met in passing.”

A snort exits Jimin’s nose. “If he remembers you, I’ll genuinely be surprised.”

Whatever is or isn’t said by the rest of the couch is unheard by you; once Jimin has finished his slander of Cassandra-Cassie whilst perched on Yoongi’s knees, you decide you’ve heard enough and pick yourself back up off the couch despite having only just sat down.

Whoever remains at the couch pays you no mind, aside from Yoongi who nods gently as you gesture to the connecting hallway, an arch in the cream smooth wall that no doubt leads to either the outside, the kitchen or a bathroom, perhaps all three at once. His eyes do not leave you until you’ve wormed your way out of the room, quietly and meekly weaving through bodies on the walls and declining at least three drinks offered in your direction. After peering into several rooms, including the kitchen that was far too crowded and scorching to even enter, and glanced out through the french doors to the scattered party outside, looking on the patio glowing in blues and pinks, the pool splashing with laughter.

Even the end bathroom that is larger than the kitchen is practically empty save the guy passed out in the bathtub with a glass of sparkling champagne in a slender glass on the sink, and you suddenly feel very dejected, closing the door behind you as you exit back to the long hallway. Maybe everything was too good to be true- maybe girls like Cassandra were girls Jeongguk had invited, like he had you, suddenly ghosting when they all appeared in the same room. It feels rude to assume that, but with no text messages or indication as to where he might be and with whom, disappointment begins to simmer in your stomach.

It nearly settles, confusing dejection with nausea and the thought of Jeongguk having played you is a thought you ruminate, until you’re halfway down the hall and a door to a connecting room that has now opened welcomes a body cloaked in the bedroom darkness, an arm leaning out to grasp your sleeve and pull you inside.

A strange sense of deja-vu hangs over this situation, familiarity striking with the hand that unwraps from around your arm and meets the second around your waist. Before you have even finished twirling to face the body in ownership of said arms, the sound of quiet chuckling makes you relax instantly, a smile growing when you fall with a soft thud against the torso of Jeongguk, his mouth in level with your eyes.

“Hi, stranger,” you laugh softly, looking up at him with wide eyes. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Jeongguk hums, and you catch a whiff of alcohol practically pouring off him. “Been hidin’. You found me, you win.” Jeongguk does a poor job of attempting to be sober, his speech slurred and his smile cheesy and smirkish. “I was tryna ride with you, but Joon shut the car door and we just drove off, you know?” You honestly don’t, but you nod anyway. “Tried to call you but dunno where my phone’s gone. Think Joon’s got it.”

“That explains why you weren’t replying,” you say, mostly to yourself. Jeongguk inhales the air through his nose quickly, one sniff, and relaxes his arms around your middle; his forearms are resting on your hip bones with his fingers gently stroking and drumming against your lower back, and it is here, with him so close, that you notice the glow of sweat on his hairline, the fringes slightly matted down and smudged black under his eye, glitter shines of his eyebrow piercing. “Got worried about you.”

“You were worried about me?” he repeats, that same smile on his face. Jeongguk sounds so amazed by this fact, so bewildered that you’d care.

Anticipation whirls in the pit of your stomach as his voice drops in volume and hardness, and the school-girl crush swims back to bite when Jeongguk’s forehead bends to press against your own, the taste of alcohol on your tongue before he’s even leaning in to kiss you. Jeongguk’s hands immediately fly to cradle your face, accidentally bringing a fistful of hair to your cheek as he holds you, practically picking your face up to warm to his mouth. It is just one kiss, long and deep and soft, leaving behind the taste of a bitter liquor.

Jeongguk’s eyes open through slits when he pulls away, analysing how you still haven’t come back to reality from it, and so he moves in again, in a body roll motion stealing a second kiss, his lips pressed up against you in full. He doesn’t know if it’s the booze in his veins or the electrifying feeling of your hands over him that has him buzzing all over- it could be both, for all he knew.

Beginning to doubt his own self control when you mumble and sigh into his mouth, Jeongguk gently brings himself away, out of the kiss and sending your eyes open in a daze. Cracking his own eyes open, Jeongguk restrains himself from going right back in- the orange glow from the outdoor lights shine on the left side of your face and his heart leaps, drumming in his ears. He frowns loudly, feeling your thumbs rub against his wrists. “Sorry.”

You pause, “Why?”

“For making you worry,” Jeongguk explains, his voice murmured through pouted lips. “I made the baby worry.”

“The baby?” you repeat, chuckling. He grins. “We’re almost the same age, y’know.”

“The baby,” Jeongguk coos, his giggles indicative of his level of soberness, which seems to be unlikely. “Little nineteen year old baby-”

“Twenty,” you add, and Jeongguk stops with a quiet “huh” that sounds like a baby, ironic. Jeongguk remembers you telling him your age, and that you’d be twenty soon. Had he missed your birthday? As if hearing his internal struggle, you smile softly: “Today is my birthday, actually.”

Truly, Jeongguk doesn’t know what to say. His mouth hangs agape, like the information was sacred. “What…? You didn’t say anything- I could have got you something, done something-”

“This whole day has been a gift,” you stress, cutting him short and calming him down. “Truly. My Mom and Asshole are in the Maldives because that’s more important than me, and so I went out for breakfast with Jimin, skipped my yoga session because treat-yourself-vibes only on my birthday, and then I had the best time at your show and now we’re here. So, honestly-” as you talk, you finger his shirt, wrapping the material around your nail, “-everything has been amazing. This is my gift- you are my gift.”

Jeongguk pouts. “You’re way more important than the Maldives...you wanna go to the Maldives? Shall we go?” Based off the state of things, Jeongguk is a playful, chatty and overall excited drunk, his eyes blown wide with what you hope it just alcohol buzz. “I’ll take you.”

You laugh, gently stroking his jaw and very briefly, before he can get too addicted, kiss him. Before Jeongguk can pucker his lips back for you, you’re back on the ground with your feet flat, shyly smiling at the way he still tries anyway- because you can’t blame a man for trying.

“You like the party?” Jeongguk asks, unconcerned. His hands are back on your back, now, his arms wrapped around you tightly.

“Mm, it’s fun,” you agree. “Will you come out and join all of us? We’re all in the lounge-” you smirk up at him and he raises his brows, “Cassandra is there.”

“Who the fuck’s Cassandra?” questions his voice, and you laugh loudly, surprisingly gleeful.

“Someone else who was looking for you like me,” you tell him, frowning. He hums, interested in this fact and your expression. “Think she likes you.”

Outside the door, someone rattles at the handle, the noise falling short as though they’ve been stopped from entering. Jeongguk seizes the last word with a triumphant smile.

“Don’t worry,” he assures, and your gaze drops to his lips as his teeth drag on the bottom, pulling teasingly. “I’ve got my eye on someone special.”

There had been reasoning behind Yoongi’s decision to not mention Jeongguk’s habits.

For one, it’s none of his business to talk about what Jeongguk does and doesn’t do when under the influence. Secondly, he feels as though he’s not supposed to say, like it’s a secret he’s sworn to keep. Truthfully, Yoongi doesn’t want to give the wrong idea- he doesn’t want the truth to be misunderstood or misinterpreted, and so he stays quiet. Like all other members of August Blue when Jeongguk touches alcohol, he’s quiet. At this stage, there’s nothing he can do but wait for Jeongguk to stop, patient and helpful.

It has to be early hours, now, and if Yoongi’s phone wasn’t dead, he’d check. By this point, the party is on its last legs, the volume of people decreasing dramatically as songs become more slow and sultry, all the lights blood red. It’s about time he and Jimin leave, actually; like always, Seokjin and Taehyung have disappeared into one of their bedrooms on the second floor, and Namjoon is asleep on the couch with his mouth ajar, Hoseok and Roseanne planning to remain present in the hub until the party goes to sleep, because someone needs to clean up, and it sure as hell won’t be anybody else.

Yoongi bids his farewells individually, with Jimin needily clinging to the sleeve of his shirt with the vodka oozing out of his body, his head on a whole other planet. By the time Yoongi makes it to the other side of the room where you are with Jeongguk, he’s worried Jimin might actually fall asleep before they get to the car.

Something interesting has happened. Yoongi slowly moves towards the leftover crowd around Jeongguk and sees your face immediately, worry crossed with affection etched into the look on your face as Jeongguk tightly holds you on his lap, his legs twitching and smile on display. It’s around about this time Yoongi begins to overthink it, letting his gaze drop to your hands holding one of his while his other reaches out to the coffee table, littered with bottles and shot glasses, and most importantly, the puddles of white. He gulps, looking back at you. Surprisingly, you don’t look put off, or disgusted- more so you look sad, as if filled with intense guilt as Jeongguk hugs you, his heart in one place and head in another.

When one of the girls next to Jeongguk pats his arm and Jeongguk looks over, you spare the chance to look back in the direction of Jimin, overwhelmed with relief when you see him losing balance over the shoulder of your cousin. Jeongguk struggles for a second to let you free but he does, and you move towards Yoongi, already expecting his departure.

“You should leave too,” Yoongi says seriously. “Before he gets worse.”

He- you look over your shoulder at Jeongguk. Now, he’s on his knees, his chin on the coffee table as he inches towards a fresh line on the surface. Someone’s credit card sits decorated in the powder and Jeongguk, whilst pressing his finger to one nose, snorts the line without question and with a smile. You look away, facing Yoongi with a dark expression.

“You knew?”

“We all knew,” Yoongi sighs. “This...is moderate.”

Processing what he’s saying, you shake your head stubbornly. “If I leave, then it will get worse. I don’t want to leave him on his own. I wanna be here for him, before it gets worse than what it already is.”

“It will get worse, always does.”

“I don’t care, I’m not leaving him here,” you reason. “Before you tell me I’m not special and I can’t change him, I’m not here to change him. I’m here to support him. I’m gonna stay, make sure he’s okay.”

Yoongi really wants to intervene, warn you against it. People before you have tried, he wants to say. But he doesn’t; he smiles weakly, thinking about how you’re too good for the world and people around you and he brings you in for a hug, kissing the crown of your head.

“Alright. Happy birthday, by the way. Twenty...Hag,” Yoongi mutters before he pulls away. Jimin mirrors the movement, drunkenly giggling in your ear as he pulls away and thuds against Yoongi’s side. Yoongi doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t complain; secretly he likes the clinginess.

“Thanks, Yoongs,” you laugh, standing still until he steers himself and Jimin away from the scene and you’re left with no other option but to retreat back towards Jeongguk, who must be on his third line. The distinct and slightly jarring sound of snorting makes you hurry quicker towards him, until you can reach out and pet his hair, making him look up before he’s even finished the line.

The boyish grin that Jeongguk gives you when he looks up and sees your face is beyond beautiful, and he’s so distracted from the lines that he doesn’t notice or care when the girl next to him, displeased with his lack of attention, finishes it off for him. Doing everything in your power to not cry about how Jeongguk looks, fucked and wrecked with white powder under his nose, you shoot him a smile and smooth your hands down the side of his face.

“‘m pretty,” he mutters. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

Laughter tugs at your throat, little puffs of air through your nose as you bend your head to meet his wandering gaze, wiping the powder from his nose before it kills you to keep looking at it. He sniffs, finding that it tickles, and plops his chin in your lap, hands on your thighs.

“Sleepy?” you ask, petting his curly hair.

“Mm.”

“Mm yes, or…?”

“Mm...comfy,” mutters Jeongguk. Through his hair, he looks up at you. “Can we make-out?”

You snort out a laugh, massaging his scalp. “Oh my God, you are so drunk. Come on, big guy.”

“Wanna stay with you,” Jeongguk says. “Don’t leave.”

“I’m not gonna leave you,” you tell him. “I promise. Look, everyone’s getting ready to leave now, too, I think the party’s pretty much over.”

Jeongguk eyes the room with a half-lidded gaze, furrowing his brows like he doesn’t quite know where he is. “Huh. Everyone left.”

“Mhm.” He starts to reach for the cocaine on the table again and your heart beats with panic. “Hey, I think that’s enough now.”

“Lemme finish,” Jeongguk requests.

“You’ve had enough,” you stress, taking hold of his hand. “Let’s leave it there for tonight, okay, baby?”

Jeongguk’s head snaps towards you. “Baby?”

You nod, affirming. “Yes. Look, oh, I’m so tired-” you pretend to yawn, keeping one eye open to observe his expressions as he smiles childishly.

“You’re faking,” he accuses.

“Nope. I’m so tired, let’s go sleep,” you continue.

Jeongguk continues to smile, occasionally laughing when the sound can get out of his throat. You’re half expecting it to be a waste of time, for him to insist on taking more lines and drinking more booze, but he does neither of these things. Jeongguk nods once and runs his hands across your thighs, taking them in his palms and roughly squeezing, getting to his feet when you tug him up.

Across the box shaped recliner pattern, Cassandra-fucking-Cassie glares up from her seat, alongside several others who stare at you as if you’ve grown another head. Truth be told, and unbeknownst to yourself, Jeongguk has never listened to anybody like he does for you. You have no idea how insane it is to see Jeon Jeongguk following the orders of a girl nobody knows, and honestly, you don’t care. Feeling Jeongguk’s hand slide into yours and the other occasionally reaching to fondle the back of your leg as he searches for you in dark is enough, it’s the only thing you care about.

You don’t really know where you’re going; behind you, Jeongguk is mumbling the way to his bedroom, which appears to be up the grand staircase and on the top floor, where he can pretend he’s above the world. Even with his directions, the path seems unpredictable, his torso occasionally bumping into you when you pause at corners. Eventually, Jeongguk notices where he is and conceals a yawn, his face contorted into sleepiness as he gently pulls you in the direction of his room, unsurprisingly at the end of the corridor, a master. Before he can open the door, Jeongguk yawns loudly, slumping against the doorframe and laughing slowly when you curve around him, reaching for the handle and forcing your way into the room.

Inside, it’s cold, the window propped open and a midnight colour hanging on the walls, silence. Jeongguk doesn’t turn on a light, and he doesn’t want you to either. He still holds onto your hand, or rather your fingers, and leads the way inside. His bedroom is like a hotel suite, a small lobby area of sorts when you walk in with three doors North, East and West, all leading to separate rooms including the main bedroom, bathroom and closet, all his for his own liking. He, of course, heads to the East, in the direction of his bed. It’s equally as cold in there but Jeongguk doesn’t care.

Under his breath, Jeongguk hums something unintelligent, waiting until he’s right by the side of his bed to twirl around. His arms find themselves back around you, lifting you off the ground which elicits a squeal of surprise and falls with a soft pat on top of the bed. Your pelvis is on his abdomen, your face on the bed next to his neck and he holds you tighter, engulfing your smell and warmth. Amongst the drugs and the childlike excitement, Jeongguk is an affectionate drunk around those who matter to him. His exhale of breath akin to a sigh tickles a breeze on your ear, and you struggle to pick your head up and look at his face; he meets you with a titter and puckers his lips, kissing you before you can decline. He grins triumphantly.

“Got it.”

“Mm, you did.”

He laughs again, the kind of laugh that sounds gravelly. He’s so drunk. “Got you.”

Humming, you entertain that thought, reaching your head to peck his jawline. Jeongguk sighs contently, about to move his hands from your waist to your thighs when you shuffle up and away, his brows furrowing with perplexion. “You’ve got me.”

Jeongguk’s head tilts. “Where are you going? Don’t leave.”

“I’m going to use the bathroom, and then I’ll be right back,” you promise him. Jeongguk pouts, emotionally clingy which is unusual, but flops back down onto the bed without vocal protect.

In the time it takes for you to rush to the bathroom, pee out of nervousness and nervously pet your hair and make it look absolutely no different, Jeongguk is knocked out asleep when you re-enter the room. His breaths are quiet, and heavy, his legs hanging off the side with his heels on the floor. The urge to sigh is unreal, but you know he must be tired, more tired than you are. Standing just before him on the bed, you’re uncertain of what to do first, but then you move to pull his feet out of his shoes, quietly tossing them to the side and then hauling his legs up onto the mattress. At some point during the night, he might shuffle- he does, slightly, when his body is on one level, and he sleepily worms his way to the side of the bed closest to the window, the right side, his side.

Half of your heart wants to leave. Maybe the way Jeongguk acted tonight was purely because of things he drank, things he lets into his body. But, subconsciously, you know better; the other half of you begs for you to stay. If Jeongguk changed his mind, it would be one walk out of the door and out of his life, easy and simple.

Instead of thinking about that, you gently toss your jacket to the floor and kick off your own shoes, laying flat next to Jeongguk as he falls deeper into sleep. Even if he wakes up with cold feet tomorrow morning, at least he won’t be alone.

The next morning, it is raining. It doesn’t often rain, and so you can’t help but hear the heavy sound of rain outside the window, no thanks to yourself for forgetting to close it before climbing next to Jeongguk. Speaking of the man, he remains asleep, his head twisted on the pillow facing you with his body flat on his back, one leg up and the other spread out. He looks so peaceful, hopefully at peace with his dreams.

Without waking him up, you roll over off the bed and sink your feet to the floor, silently retreating to the bathroom with your phone in your hand. Surprised by the time, it reads eight fifty am, and you scroll down your notifications which seem to have multiplied unusually. Few are from Instagram but majority are texts, from Yoongi and Jimin, one from your Mom that reads a simple “happy bday” and nothing more.

[03:32AM]: Yoongi 👹: hope ur safe and ok [03:41AM] Yoongi 👹: did u go home?

He sent those at three.

[08:50AM] You: shit sorry [08:50AM] You: was sleeping [08:51AM] You: im still with jeongguk, he passed out and i stayed so he wouldn’t wake up on his own

There is a short silence.

[08:53AM] Yoongi 👹: ok, be safe [08:53AM] Yoongi 👹: jimin says good morning lol

Sitting on top of the closed toilet, you hurriedly reply to the flurry of messages and by the time you’ve finished, ten minutes have passed and it is now nine. Checking over yourself in the mirror and deciding that you could ultimately look a lot worse, you move back into the bedroom, overhearing loudness from the remaining people in the house who had an early start to the day.

Jeongguk stirs slightly, showing signs of being awake. Under his breath he groans, reluctant to confirm his consciousness by keeping his eyes closed, and you slowly reach to put your phone back on the bedside table and clamber on all fours onto the bed. With the weight dipped, Jeongguk huffs, peering open one eye and watching you crawl up to him, knees near his body and hands brushing the long hair out of his eyes.

“Morning, sleepy-head,” you coo, voice quiet because nine is still early.

Jeongguk groans, saying nothing. He shifts, ironing out the cramps in his limbs and sitting up, reaching a hand out for you, grabbing air like a child. Your gaze drops to the way his fingers roll expectantly and you slip your hand into his, taken aback when he tugs you over onto him, your legs over his hips as his arms steady around your waist.

Suddenly he’s very awake, moving your hair back and then kissing you, like he’s been starved of it. It begins gentle, timid, with his hands barely touching you as if he’s expecting you to move away and reject it. You don’t, however; when he pulls back you immediately move back in, twisting your arms around his neck, prompting him to follow by tightening his arms around your body, bringing you flush up against him, hips touching, sex throbbing. Jeongguk groans into your mouth, his hands guiding your body as you make shy movements, barely rolling up against him creating friction he wasn’t aware he needed so badly.

Jeongguk isn’t sure if what he’s doing is okay, and you don’t care. All that seems to matter is having you near him, as close as you can possibly be. Under your shirt, Jeongguk slides his hand up your back until it’s at the back of your neck, his left tight on your hip bone as the guider. He welcomes, no, encourages, your hips rocking against his slowly, teasingly, perfect momentum for the morning with the rain. It is both unnerving and exciting in how Jeongguk remains silent, save his occasional groans into your mouth. 

Once Jeongguk has grown bored of kissing your mouth, satisfied with all he’s done, his mouth departs and moves to your jaw, peppering a line of wet kisses from the underside to your neck. His hands spring away and move to hastily unbutton your shirt, unpopping one at a time as you whimper, feeling the hardness buried in Jeongguk’s jeans begging to be free.

Jeongguk breathes heavily, desperately pulling the buttons undone and undressing your shirt from your body. At first, he barely notices the fact that your bra is missing until the shirt is down to your elbows, sexily like a shawl, and his eyes land on your hardened nipples. Jeongguk half laughs, touching his thumbs on the underside of your breasts.

“Just like that,” he mutters, and you pout through a whimper that brings his eyes up to your own.

“Shut up, there was no way I was sleeping with it on,” you reply, and he hums, it makes sense. Jeongguk doesn’t blame you- why would he? He’s a guy, he likes tits; he likes your tits, smallish and round, big enough for him to hold and fit in his mouth, which he does.

Raising his eyebrows, Jeongguk smirks and brings his mouth to your right tit, his mouth around your nipple and you moan sweetly, your hand raking through his messy bed-curls. Like taking a toothless bite out of a whip of ice cream, Jeongguk’s lips pull around it, his eyes flickering up to observe your expressions- one glance and he immediately feels overwhelmed, a pressure on his crotch, discomfort, the need to be free. His hips stutter and he ruts up against you, two clothed crotches rubbing together, stolen gasps in the morning ambience. Finished with his hands on your tits, Jeongguk fully removes your shirt, balling it up and throwing it across the room, where it lands pathetically on one of the knobs of his drawers.

In one movement, Jeongguk secures his arms around you and hikes himself up onto his feet, squatting and turning so you should fall on your back. Following, he pushes you down into the mattress, your head half on the pillow and this time, his legs on your hips, not an overpowering weight but enough to keep you pinned down. You writhe, your back arching up off the mattress as Jeongguk’s mouth trails down from your face, where he leaves a starting kiss on your lips, down your neck and between your breasts, encouraging the roll of your hips with his hands. Muttered incoherence is all he can hear as he shimmies down, his tongue on your skin, teasingly licking a stripe up across your crotch covered by uncomfortable jeans.

Jimin, that fucker, he’d been right. Skinny jeans truly were the least practical outfit.

Jeongguk straddles himself up, planting his body over you like one would during sex. Humming against your lips, Jeongguk’s teeth pull at your bottom lip, his left hand gripping your leg and positioning it around his waist, your legs parted and his crotch directly hitting yours with every grind. Jeongguk gives nothing away- he stares, unwaveringly and deadpan directly into your eyes, grunting at the faces you pull, the whimpers leaving your lips, your rutting underneath him.

He buckles unexpectedly, pounding you deep into the mattress with a high pitched moan, captured by his mouth as he squeezes your flesh around his hand, holding you to him like letting you go would result in him losing you entirely. Jeongguk’s torn between wanting to cry and scream; in his short, sad, twenty one years of living, he’s not sure he’s ever felt as desperate for another person before. Never craved somebody the way he craves you, never needed somebody the way he needs you. Jeongguk stares into your eyes, opia. For fucks sake- he likes you so much, needs you so much-

“Jeongguk, you up?”

Freeze frame. Namjoon steps into the room, his eyes widening with surprise when he comes through the East and spots your shoes and bra by the door, shirt hanging off the cupboard, and Jeongguk on top of you with his lips on your neck, hands on your waist, leg around his middle and crotch up against his. Over Jeongguk’s bicep, you stare at him, your eyes blown open, but Jeongguk doesn’t seem to stop, or even care. Even when you grip on his bicep to let him know you’re not alone, Jeongguk looks up from your neck and spots Namjoon. A soft exhale leaves his lips and he grunts, unbothered.

“Yeah,” he replies bluntly, biting down on your neck and revelling in the tug he receives in his hair when he does so. Still, Namjoon stands by the door in awe, unsure of what to do or say. Jeongguk pulls away, his face still stuffed in your neck, “you need something, Namjoon?”

“I,” Namjoon says, gathering his thoughts. He clears his throat. “Sejin called...He said he’s going to be round at about eleven ish, so I was, um, coming to see if you wanted breakfast, or…” As he speaks, Jeongguk is selfish, still grinding against you like Namjoon’s not even there. He’s listening though, his ear free to hear as he sucks his mouth on your skin, practising sex against your jeans.

Naturally, Namjoon’s gaze wanders to your breasts when Jeongguk picks himself up slightly, grabbing one with his palm and kissing patterns across your sternum. He gulps, uncomfortable.

“Be down in a minute,” Jeongguk says, shrugs, not really a promise. Namjoon nods, flushing as you moan unexpectedly, your traitor pussy having a mind of its own, controlling the way you think. Namjoon about makes out an arch on the grey comforter and catches your gaze, half-lidded, and he turns away, he’s seen enough.

“Take your time,” Namjoon squeaks out, unsure of whether the flush is for his head or his dick but he’s not sticking around to find out, and hurries out the door and back into the house. Jeongguk’s facade doesn’t fall until he knows for certain that Namjoon has left, which means he waits until the sound of laughter resonates downstairs, meaning Namjoon’s said his piece to the rest of the band likely gathered somewhere, waiting for him.

Planting one final kiss to your breast, Jeongguk groans and picks himself up onto his hands, his torso still over the lower half of your body and his gaze on your chest. It doesn’t move for a moment, staring in silence until he suddenly starts laughing to himself. The tangled mess of hair bounces with his shoulders and his head drops for a few moments, and then he peers up at you with a smile and you can’t contain your own bubbling laughter, scandalised.

“I know I’m a day late,” he breathes, “but.” Jeongguk smiles softly, “Happy birthday, gorgeous.”

“Mmm. Thank you,” you preen. “Best birthday ever.”

This causes Jeongguk to guffaw, laughing under his breath. “Joon enjoyed it too.”

“You’re such a prick, you could have stopped,” you laugh to him, slamming his shoulders gently. Jeongguk grins, shuffling until his ass is on your stomach, straddling with his hands intertwined with yours.

“Yeah,” he agrees, because he could have. “Didn’t feel like it though. Plus, he said you were pretty once. ‘Mnot taking any chances with you.”

You gasp, astounded. “And what if I had thought he was pretty, too?”

“Then I’d cry,” Jeongguk replies simply, considering it a successful quip when you laugh sweetly, your cheek on your shoulder looking up at him like he was God’s angel. He blinks, like he’s processing the information, “thank you for staying. Look, if last night I was fucked up, it’s okay if you’re not cool with that. It can be a lot and I-”

“Jeongguk, I’ll always stay. If you need me, I’ll stay,” you tell him seriously. “I’m here for you, even when it’s difficult. I-” you pause, “I care about you.” It won’t be the last time Jeongguk feels like he has nothing to say to you, and honestly, it’s not the first time either.

Jeongguk looks down at you, his face devoid of a smile now that your words have settled in. When he realises what you’re saying, what that means for him.

“I’m sorry. I’m...a fucking shit show,” Jeongguk says quietly, and he barely moves when you instantly sit up, rising with your palms cupping his face, holding him gently and closely.

“Please don’t say sorry. I’m here, if you need me,” you say to him. “If you want me.”

“I do,” replies Jeongguk. He licks his lips, “of course I do.”

Warmth blossoms in your chest, and it would be easy to kick back, let him keep kissing, stay in the warmth of his bed covers. So suddenly, life feels like it can get better. So suddenly, it feels like everything is going to be okay.

(LOS ANGELES)

Things begin to change quite suddenly.

In the moment, you hardly realise how fast paced life is moving for you, too caught up in the moment, in the thrill of what has become of your life after the show at the Hollywood Palladium. For some reason, you didn’t expect to be an addition to Jeongguk’s life after the party, especially considering August Blue still had several other shows and cities to perform in, meaning the likelihood of seeing him decreased.

He had surprised you, though, by making a considerable effort to frequent DBOY whenever he could before he left for Jersey, alongside the rather spontaneous decision to take you for dinner after your shift, ending with a bang and a kiss and your mother peeking from behind a curtain inside the house when Jeongguk pulled up to drop you home instead of your own flat afterwards. 

As far as you knew, nothing with Jeongguk had especially changed; judging off the lingering smell of nicotine and alcohol when he turned up to get you, and pictures of dark lights and white tables on his private accounts, which only made it harder to say goodbye to him.

There had been a change in pace between Jeongguk and yourself, an establishment of feelings discussed over that afternoon dinner looking out at the ocean. It had been unexpected and impulsive, you still dressed in your lackluster University outfit and Jeongguk in attire that he put on when he woke up in the morning, but everything seemed to feel right.

It hadn’t been much, nothing but him setting the record straight that he wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he wanted to do it- if you would have it, he’d like to be in your life. There was the bump in the road that was his status, his tours and his unspoken struggle with white lines and drunken nights that could be troublesome. Could turn you off, could make you not want him. You laughed at that like it was the funniest and simultaneously the stupidest thing he’d ever said, and maybe it was.

Across the room, Jimin kicks his feet up onto the coffee table despite countless efforts to get him to stop. Now that the late birthday weekend spent with your family had come to a happy end, you were once again welcomed in your shared flat with Jimin; it’s a measly apartment close to campus with an expensive empty third room that you both use as art storage. Next to him on the couch is the greasy pizza box, his fingers pulling a slice off the cardboard. You stand behind the couch, looking at the back of his head, and then look back at your phone. As always, there’s nothing, no notifications besides an Icloud storage backup failure. You sigh, having expected it.

Jimin looks up when the couch dips in weight as you sit next to him, moving the pizza box to his lap rather than your spot. He has the nerve to appear offended, still shoving a slice in his mouth.

“I’ve picked the movie,” he starts.

“Swear on God, if you’ve picked Orphan again, I’m going to beat your ass.”

“It’s the best horror movie to date, come on!” Jimin argues, making zero effort to change the movie once it’s already started. People who didn’t know Jimin would take a look at him and anticipate him to be an angel, questioning why you would ever be annoyed by such a cute face. This- this is why. 

Regardless, all you give Jimin is an eye-roll and decide to quietly accept the fact that your movie night has, once again, become an ode to Orphan. It’s not a problem- if a movie could define and represent a friendship, Orphan could summarize your relationship with Jimin.

The movie plays as far as Esther pushing her sister into the road when disturbance arises. Jimin is the first to stir, hearing the front door to your apartment crack open and a sheepish Yoongi steps inside, a bag of takeout in his left hand and keys in the right. He is, of course, late as always, and you expect he won’t hear the end of it by the time he’s wedged himself into the room; rightly so, Jimin interrogates him on being late as the front door closes, and right as the sound of arguing fills the room a blaring ring from your phone picks up.

It’s sad to admit that you pick up your phone in lightning speed, peering in the light as Jeongguk’s contact fills the screen. The way seeing his name light up on the screen feels like an urgent release, like finding treasure after searching for so long- you haul yourself up off the couch and head back towards the kitchen as the couple shuffle in. Glancing at them as they collapse in laughter to the couch, you smile and answer the call from Jeongguk that never stops ringing.

“Jeongguk,” you say, once you’ve picked up and heard nothing but murmured party ambience over the line. Something crackles, like the movement of clothes, and Jeongguk hums like he’s in a trance. “Can you hear me?”

“Hi baby,” his voice calls. He laughs, lucid, “Y/N, baby. Hi baby.”

“Hi,” you coo in reply. “Where are you, I can barely hear you…?”

“Party!” laughs Jeongguk. “Wrap up party. ‘so funny, you should come.”

A smile ignites. “I can’t, I’m not in that state. Are you having fun? What are you doing?”

For a moment, Jeongguk doesn’t reply. From the sounds of it, he seems otherwise occupied, for in the background the quiet sound of party laughter and glass clinking reminds you of where he is, what he’s doing, what he’ll end up doing. You swallow thickly.

“It’s okay,” Jeongguk says after some time. “Kinda fun.” He waits one second and then says, “can’t hear you. I’m gonna go outside, don’t hang up.”

“I won’t. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jeongguk moves outside, the party tucked behind as he leans against the brickwork of the rented bar used for the party. There’s a payphone on the wall, dripped in neon lights and he stands next to it, his body chilled by the night, leather on his skin.

“What are you doing?” Jeongguk asks, sniffing. That’s the indicator. Something inside of you sinks thinking about what he’s done, how sad it is that he does it to himself and nobody bats an eye.

You throw a glance back across the room; Jimin is settled in Yoongi’s lap, bringing soft laughter out of your cousin as the still frame of Orphan burns the television screen. “It’s movie night, so Jimin and Yoongi came over.”

“Mm yeah?” Jeongguk says. “Fun, sounds so fun, Yoongi said you lived with Jimin.”

“I do,” you reply gently. “When do you come home?”

“Saturday, maybe,” Jeongguk estimates. “Then I’m gonna come see you. Wanna take you out again, can we go out somewhere, I wanna go out.”

You laugh, tucking yourself into the kitchen when Yoongi and Jimin start laughing too loudly. “Course. Just let me know when, I’ll make room for you.”

For a while, Jeongguk doesn’t say anything interesting. In fact, it’s mostly a string of incoherent and confusing sentences, his pout audible as he speaks and at least he’s not making bad decisions, half the reason you haven’t told him to go back to the party. Maybe you’re in it too deep, maybe you have no right being worried about him like that. If his band members didn’t seem to be too worried, and they’ve clearly known him longer, then why should you be so concerned?

“Called you for a reason, you know,” Jeongguk says, after a short breath of silence.

You raise your eyebrows and lean against the doorframe, pulling at your bottom lip with your teeth after asking him why.

Jeongguk sniffs and then drops a deep exhale of breath. “Missed you.” Your heart thuds painfully. ���Miss you, miss your voice. You should have come.”

“Maybe next time,” you offer. You’re unsure if telling him that you didn’t come because you don’t know what you are to him is wise at this exact moment, and so you decline to offer him a reason. Not that he asks. “I miss you too. I miss you coming to see me at work, made my day.”

Jeongguk laughs to himself. “I miss it. Coming home on Saturday, can I see you then?”

You pause to think. “Ah...it’s Yoojung’s birthday.” Yoojung is Yoongi’s sister, which Jeongguk remarkably remembers. He frowns, questioning. “There’s a party at her house, I’m obviously going because I’m family.”

“Yoo is a fan of the band, I think,” Jeongguk says. “Maybe I’ll ask Yoonie if I can come, surprise her or something. Wanna see you.”

“You can’t wait an extra day? I think I’m free all day on Sunday,” you offer, but Jeongguk declines.

“Nah. Greedy.”

He sniffs once, curtly and quickly, like inhaling sandpaper. You repress a sigh, not wanting to give away anything that might upset him, and you tuck further into the kitchen to escape the noise of the couple on the couch. It rises in volume, Jimin’s tone calling for you which Jeongguk can surely hear, but clearly cares little for.

“Fair enough,” you reply, smiling. “Are you going to go back in and party?”

For a second, Jeongguk says nothing. Unbeknownst to you, Jeongguk leans against the damp bricks with his chin tucked to his collarbones, gaze hazy and a smile on his lips. The air is cool enough to straighten his head, at least clear his vision from speckles to something clean.

“Just like talking to you,” he mumbles. “I don’t know, I don’t know if I wanna party anymore.”

“Then don’t, baby, it’s okay,” you tell him, trying to avoid eavesdroppers in the living room. “Find Seokjin and leave for the night, hm? Have some rest and then we can see each other when you get back for Saturday, m’kay?”

Jeongguk says nothing, listening in the background to Yoongi and Jimin as they heckle you into living room to finish the movie. He wants to say something, more than anything he has words on his mind, sentences on the tip of his tongue; he doesn’t. His head isn’t clear enough for him to trust himself to speak. So, instead, he takes an inhale of the outside air and glances around at his surroundings, observing the moonlight on the lake nearby and the dark green ferns around the car park.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m gonna go to bed,” he decides to say.

“That’s good. Just let me know when you’re home safe, okay?” you tell him, silencing the duo with a finger to your lips and the couple on the couch suppress giggles of amusement. To them it’s funny. “Okay?”

“Yep. I’ll text,” Jeongguk promises. From behind him, the door to the club opens and you can faintly hear a voice calling him. It’s out of your hands but you hope that it’s Seokjin, or another member of the band. “Miss you.”

You smile, “I miss you too. Get some rest, okay? I’ll see you on Saturday.”

Jeongguk hums. His voice is gone in the wind, too small to speak out.

(HIDDEN HILLS)

“And, you know, don’t get me wrong- I love parties as much as the next person, believe me, but if you can’t have an Iron Man balloon just because your parents are too damn lazy to go across town to Party City to get me one, then is it really a good party?”

Min Yoojung takes a sip from her glass and practically shrivels with distaste. For some or known reason, she had assumed that when you turned eighteen, life would dramatically change and you’d suddenly enjoy the taste of alcohol. Or, at least, that’s what UK TV shows had told her- mind you, she now knows that’s entirely inaccurate.

“I mean, think about it,” she continues with a huff. “Yoongi gets his own private club hired out for his birthday with the members of KISS playing on stage, and I can’t even get a balloon?”

Yoongi sits directly across from her on the patio sofas, a cigarette between his two fingers and a glass of red wine on the small table. He hides a smirk, feigning absolute disinterest as his sister speaks, waiting until she’s finished and looking between yourself and Jimin for some sort of explanation before he speaks.

“It’s because you’re adopted,” he replies smoothly, which only sets her off more.  

To some extent, what she is saying is not flawed. For Yoongi’s eighteenth birthday, he had gotten everything he wanted, things he brought up in passing wrapped up and gifted to him on the morn of March 9th. And, Yoojung is walking proof that the myth of the baby sibling being the favourite is simply not true. Granted, Yoongi’s only the favourite because he’s semi-famous, whereas Yoojung still attends public school and dines in three star restaurants with allowance money she may as well not have. That’s not to say that her birthday sucks; it doesn’t, because the Min’s have money and standards and this party in the backyard might make a headline in some Indie magazine online. Who knows.

It’s leisurely and small, with only few celebrities in attendance not including the Min’s and their relatives. You’re not entirely unfamiliar with the life of stardom- unfortunately, being the step-daughter of Axel Choi therefore meant having a camera in your face once or twice. Even though Axel was no relative of yours, and by no means did he ever have the audacity to assume he could fill the role of your Dad: Axel was an okay guy, protective of his family and by extension, protective of you. You didn’t mind, just one less camera to hide from, one less ugly photograph uploaded online for a bit of money. 

That being said, Axel pulled a few strings and got a few A-Listers to show up, including a KPOP group that Yoojung had liked when she felt like an alien in her own country. Amongst those are some of Yoojung’s friends, who fear sitting near Yoongi because he’s the hot older brother type, and fearful of you who they don’t know, which isn’t any less scary from them knowing you.

“You haven’t done the cake yet, right?”

From behind Yoongi, out comes Wheein, one of his old friends from University. She carefully climbs over the seat to sit next to Jimin, mindful of her glass that sloshes and Yoojung sighs, pressing her chin into the heel of her hand.

“Nope. Yoongi says people haven’t turned up yet, so I don’t know what’s up with that,” Yoojung shrugs. “Honestly-” now she rises slightly, her back straight and finger pointed accusingly, “you fucking planned my whole party. Is this the Yoongi and Co show, or what?”

“Yes,” Yoongi replies, as though it were obvious. He drinks. “Stop complaining and wait, it’ll be worth it.”

Yoojung scoffs, “Yeah right. If Tony Stark doesn’t come to this house dressed in his suit making that suity noise, then consider this birthday over.”

Yoongi pauses. “Okay then, I guess I’ll start sending people back home, because you can’t even get an Iron Man balloon, what makes you think he’s gonna pop round in person?”

Yoojung shrugs, “Poetic cinema?”

“Keep dreaming, cabbage patch baby.”

“Cabbage patch baby?” Jimin laughs. That’s when Yoongi ignores Yoojung’s frustrated groans and launches into an explanation behind the name, which involves Yoongi telling Yoojung when she was little that their Mom found her in a cabbage patch. You’ve heard it before, so you’re not listening when it’s explained. Your gaze instead lifts across the patio, awkwardly catching your mother’s as she looks around for you. 

Her eyes light up when she spots you and immediately she waves you over, not taking no for an answer as those round holes turn into slits faster than you can even mouth the syllable “n”. While Yoongi dives deeper into Yoojung’s misery, you pick yourself up with a sigh and head on over towards your mother.

She stands next to Axel, as well as Yoongi’s parents, and two celebrities you vaguely remember for being present at Yoongi’s birthday many moons ago. You fake a smile, wanting to be polite, wanting it to be over. It seems your arrival had been pre-planned and expected, for your aunt turns to you with wide eyes and brings you by the elbow.

“Y/N. We were just talking about you- you know Maxine, don’t you?”

No. You regard the stranger, subtly looking them up and down and smiling tightly. “Of course! It’s so nice to see you.”

“We were just talking about the arts- classical, of course, because we all know how you turn up your nose at the modern artists of today,” your Aunt says.

“Well, I do like modern art, I just find classicals more interesting to study. More composition, colour, texture...more empathy.”

“Whatever,” your Aunt interrupts. “Maxine has a son who works in the Louvre. He’s looking for junior guides, people to talk arty to visitors and make everything sound nice.”

Maxine smiles to intervene. “Actually, he’s not high enough in the business to request people, but I do know that he’s got an eye for women who like the arts. Miyoung told me that you study it at University level.”

You nod, bored. “Yes, I do. I’m not sure I want to move to Paris for a job, though...so…”

“Oh, no,” Maxine laughs. As she does this, one of Yoongi’s other friends, Jaehyung, creeps up behind you and quietly says hello to your mother and to Axel, half listening when Maxine says, “Duke is actually on pursuit for somebody who can match his artistic background.”

This, of course, makes Jaehyung laugh suddenly. He takes a slice of cake off a nearby tray and takes a bite, moving to walk away as he says, “Y/N doesn’t need help in the dating department, I don’t think.”

You glare at him.

“What does that mean?” your mother asks. “Do you have somebody?”

“No, Mom. Nobody.”

“Sure she does,” Jaehyung winks. “Was all over Instagram.”

“That’s a lie,” you gape.

“Is it?” he shrugs. Is it?

Aunt Miyoung gasps like she’s heard an offensive secret, touching her collarbone as she looks between Jaehyung and yourself. Jaehyung grins, saying nothing and running back to Yoongi before you can slander him. You’re in for it now.

“The boy that dropped you home?” your mother presses.

“You knew about this?” Miyoung asks. “Maxine, I am deeply sorry- I feel foolish.”

“I-Yes,” you tell her finally. Jeongguk, the man in question, might not be what everybody now thinks he is, might not even be what you think he is. “It hasn’t been long, so I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

“And he’s famous?” Axel asks.

You look at him. “Yeah. I guess. You wouldn’t believe he was, but he is.”

Axel raises his eyebrows, by now not in the least surprised by the bitterness in your tone that has been there since your mother first introduced him. He’d probably be more surprised if you didn’t talk to him like that. Regardless, Axel takes it with acquiesce, glancing at your mother for some sort of guidance that she can’t and won’t give to him. It is in this moment that the back gate that leads to a leaky trail next to the spacious garage and past Holly’s doghouse opens, like arms inviting a hug.

The gate needs oiling, screeching to gain attention as it opens and in steps pairs of booted feet. The selection of pauses, gasps and an excited murmur from Yoojung’s friendship group out over by the poolside paints the picture for you, and you don’t feel the need to turn around. Noise alone confirms that the person who opened the gate is the same man in topic of conversation, his eyes dancing around the yard until they land on Yoongi’s father, acknowledgingly and then finally onto Yoojung, who he happens to notice quickly than he does the back of your head.

“Speak of the devil,” your mother starts, recognising him.

Axel hesitates visibly and audibly. “That man. That’s him?”

You purse your lips, taking a peek over your shoulder at Jeongguk. He speaks for himself; his muscles cling underneath a white tee and leather jacket that feels overdressed, paired with faded black jeans decorated with gashes and two zips. Axel only frowns because he’s not dressed like a prep, or a future Doctor like he would have liked for you, hypocrisy. Not even dressed ‘normal’ like boys he sees on the covers of magazines belonging to your step-sister, his own blood, his actual daughter. Jeongguk is dressed for attention, his gaze high over his glasses that you’re unaware he owned.

“It might be,” you reply quietly, and it’s telling enough that Axel sighs, folding his arms.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Miyoung says quickly. “You should have just told us it was Jeongguk.”

“You know him?” asks Axel.

Miyoung nods, sipping her wine. “Sure. He’s been friends with Yoongi for a few years now- we actually cleared him to visit for Yoo’s birthday.” Finally she acknowledges you: “Handsome boy, Y/N. How did you find him? Yoongi?”

“More like he found me,” you muse. “I tried to remain professional, but he kept coming back to visit me at work.”

“Romantic,” your mother sighs honestly.

Yoongi’s father laughs. “Jeongguk has a type.”

You stare at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “The last time he had a girl on his arm he bed her and got rid of her. Funny, actually, you two had the same hair.”

“Hair isn’t a type,” Miyoung snaps.

“I’m just saying,” he continues, shrugging again. “Don’t get your hopes up, honey.”

“So, he’s a player?” Axel grunts.

“No,” you defend quickly. “No. Well- yes, he was. People change when they’ve found the right person to change for.”

Axel chuckles wryly. “And you think you’re the one to change him?”

“Not change him, but I’ll be there for him whenever he needs me,” you nod. “I trust him.”

“I can feel my ears burning.”

Jeongguk’s voice creeps over your shoulder before you can even notice that he has made his way over towards you; the feeling of his chin rested just above your ear makes your body pause and he wraps one arm around you, observing everybody in the huddle. The Min’s consider Jeongguk secondary family, welcoming him with a smile that Axel doesn’t reciprocate, not that Jeongguk gives a shit. For Jeongguk, this is monumentous, the time for him to prove himself to the guy who didn’t believe in him.

Actually, he’s surprised to find that the feeling of worship he felt for Axel as a teenager is still there, now that he’s standing right in front of him. It’s strange, subdued and numbing, but still there and pressing. Jeongguk tries to look anywhere but at Axel, but he can’t help it. Axel doesn’t even remember him, and has the audacity to stare at Jeongguk like it’s his first time, first impression of the guy dating one of his daughters.

Jeongguk pauses his thoughts and thinks back to you- are you dating? Wouldn’t hurt to lie, just to piss of Axel even more. Jeongguk wasn’t an exceptionally smart guy but he wasn’t stupid; it was evident that Axel didn’t like him, obvious from the ugly grimace on his face. He doesn’t care- Jeongguk relishes in his dislike. That gives him power, now.

“Jeongguk,” says Miyoung, smiling wide.

Beside her, your Uncle sips his drink, silent and occasionally glancing between Jeongguk and Axel. Maybe everybody disliked Axel, Jeongguk thinks to himself, as he stares at the pulled crease between your Uncle’s eyebrows. He knows vaguely that you’re related to the Min’s through your mother, and that they, unlike your mother, never got over the death of your Dad. Maybe they too can’t stand the sight of Axel, bragging and sour-faced, acting like a member of the family when in reality, all he is is an imposter, a wolf in sheeps’ clothing, awkward and looking misplaced.

Jeongguk smiles back at Miyoung. “Hi, it’s good to see you. Thanks for having me.”

“Our pleasure,” Miyoung replies. “You’re a punk, y’know- dating our Y/N. None of us had any clue! Why hide such a beauty?”

Jeongguk grins. His arm wrapped around you tightens gently. “Sorry. We didn’t want to rush into making anything public…” He trails off, looking at you. “Get nervous and tell people?”

“Actually, you have Jaehyung to thank for that,” your mother pipes up with a sigh. For the first time, Jeongguk looks at her entirely. She looks nothing like you, too done up with surgery and makeup for him to see a resemblance. Maybe you looked like her before, maybe you favoured your Dad. “I’m Jennifer, Jenny, by the way. It’s lovely to meet you.”

Jeongguk smiles constantly, accepting her tight hug as she welcomes him. “Jeongguk.”

“Y/N doesn’t talk about you,” she says.

“In fairness, I don’t talk about anything,” you add, but she’s not listening. Jeongguk is, though, and his heart tugs. He’s got the situation kind of figured out.

“I don’t blame her,” Jeongguk replies smoothly. “We weren’t sure it was time to make things official- it’s new.”

“And it’s serious?” Axel asks, speaking for the first time.

Jeongguk watches him. “Yes, sir.”

Axel bristles. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m Axel, I’m Y/N’s father.”

“Step father,” you cut in.

“Father,” he repeats. Axel extends a hand outwards for Jeongguk to shake. Even though he hesitates, Jeongguk accepts, firmly shaking it. It’s a good handshake, Axel ought to be impressed. What doesn’t sit right is Axel calling himself your father- something he’s never been given the right to say.

“We actually have met before,” Jeongguk says, and around his arm he feels you tighten, briefly glancing up at him.

All eyes in the huddle are on Axel, including the long forgotten Maxine who watches quietly. “Did we? I don’t remember you.”

“Well, it was a long time ago,” Jeongguk explains with a flat tone. “We were in Busan. You came into my work and bought some cigarettes, I had your opinion on some of my work.”

While Axel thinks about it, your mother gasps happily, clueless and embracing her hands. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Honey, it’s great that you helped this young man.”

Unknowingly, the Min’s writhe on their spots. They know this story. They know the truth- maybe that’s why they dislike Axel the way everybody else does.

“Did I?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk continues, with the same flat tone that makes you shudder. “Yeah. You told me our music was shit and that I’d never make it in the business because I was a Korean boy from Busan with dreams I couldn’t reach. You told me we’d never succeed and that we’d be stuck in Busan flipping burgers and working night shifts at 7-11, and that the only way I’d succeed was if I was American. Dunno if you remember that, but I did.”

Nobody says anything. Not even Axel, who stares coldly.

“Well, we made it,” Jeongguk laughs quietly. “I took your advice and it really helped motivate me to prove you wrong. We’re number one on Billboard and we’re making history as the first all Korean band to top the charts and headline The Governors Ball next year. Not bad for a basement boy from Busan, right?”

Your mother gulps. “That’s really wonderful, Jeongguk, you should be really proud.”

Jeongguk pities her. “Thank-you. We worked hard for it. Now we’re here.”

“And I suppose it will do Y/N some good, being with somebody so successful.” For the first time since Jeongguk’s arrival, Maxine speaks up. She cradles her champagne glass tenderly and examines Jeongguk with her slinted fox-like eyes, as if nursing a different agenda.

“Thank you,” repeats Jeongguk. He tightens his arm around you, obviously enough to create a statement. While it’s mostly to prove to everybody- and himself- that you and him are an item, it’s also to rub extra salt into Axel’s wounds, his face like he’s sucking on a lemon. “Y/N helps keep me driven a lot. I owe her so much already, I’ll make her happy and do her proud. Thanks to Y/N, I don’t think I could be here. I’m here because she suggested it, actually, for Yoojungie.”

“And a good job, too,” Miyoung finally says, trying to avert the tensions. “Else Yoojung would be miserable at her own birthday party.” And everyone laughs, apart from Axel, not that anybody cares. “Jeongguk, shall we start the music up?”

Jeongguk nods. “I’d love to. Thanks, Mom.”

She smiles, walking away to prep. Feeling Axel’s stare cold on your skin, you gently push yourself into Jeongguk, until he’s walking backwards towards the selection of trees where you turn in his arms, looking up at him. Jeongguk smiles honestly for the first time, his heart thumping.

“Hi,” he says gently.

“Well, you know how to make an entrance,” you note thoughtfully. Jeongguk’s eyes rake your own, wordless. “Be careful how you act around Axel. He’s strangely protective.”

“I thought he wasn’t family.”

You frown. “He’s not. But he’s still… you know. Part of the family.”

Jeongguk says nothing at first. “I get it. I do,” he assures with a nod. The next moment, he has his hands on your upper-arms, smoothing. “It’s good to see you, by the way. You look beautiful.”

A smile crosses your face. “It’s good to see you, too. Missed you.”

“I missed you too, we just got off the plane this morning,” Jeongguk explains. Took a nap on the way home and then got dressed and we came straight here.” He pauses playfully: “Do I look okay?”

You laugh girlishly, catching his elbows with your fingers. “You look great. Who knew you wore glasses?”

Jeongguk grins. “They’re fake, I’m a fraud.”

“Of course,” you joke. “Like all rockstars.”

“Hey, don’t bring in my fellow rockers!” Jeongguk laughs too, an unusual sound. “As much as I wanna stand around and stare at you, I need to go and say hi to Yoojung and perform and stuff. It’s kinda why I’m here…”

“LOL,” you say. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Guk. Go, I’ll survive.”

“Okay,” he resists. “But I’ll come back later, yeah? Can’t ignore my girlfriend.” Jeongguk raises his eyebrows mischievously and then, rustles in his pocket whilst speaking, “Oh, wait. Happy-” he checks the time and shows his phone screen to you as he steps backwards, “-ten minute anniversary, babe.”

As Jeongguk steps away, dragging his fingertips along your palms as he steps backwards towards the curved pathway around the pool, a warm feeling simmers in your stomach. Maybe it’s the sunlight shining gold across his skin or the way his smile finally reaches his nostrils, extending wide, his eyes folded into moons- but something about the whole ordeal seems safe, seems gorgeous and heavenly, at the same time domestic. He winks, turns and heads towards the rest of August Blue sheltered around Yoojung and Yoongi, and you’re left with the imprinted image of Jeongguk’s smile on the spot of grass he just stood on, burning, refusing to leave.

[23:39PM] Jeongguk❣️: so i don’t think ur family like me…. [23:39PM] Jeongguk❣️: am i out of the picture now?

The sound of your phone fills the room and pulls you out of the bathroom, which connects to your family bedroom back in the house your family live at currently. Yoojung’s party had ended hours earlier, the grand finale with Jeongguk helping bring out her cake, fireworks on the evening, a hand on your waist.

Rubbing at your wet hair, you sit on the bed and reach for your phone, glossing over the messages, smiling.

[23:40PM] You: hey now [23:40PM] You: i don’t think my family like me either [23:41PM] Jeongguk❣️: wanna run away and be my family? [23:42PM] Y/N: where are we running to? [23:42PM] Jeongguk❣️: idk yet [23:42PM] Jeongguk❣️: somewhere nice [23:43PM] Jeongguk❣️: far away [23:43] You: omg yes [23:44PM] You: kinda wanting to go to hawaii...what are your thoughts on hawaii, gukkie? [23:45PM] Jeongguk❣️: hawaii on a first date? imagine that….. [23:45PM] Jeongguk❣️: u DO dream big [23:45PM] You: i tried [23:46PM] Jeongguk❣️: it’s not exactly hawaii [23:47PM] Jeongguk❣️: but how about a late night rendezvous at olive garden

(At the same time…)

[23:47PM] Jeongguk❣️: omg … as if i just spelt that word right [23:47PM] You: autocorrect, u cant fool me [23:47PM] You: and omg sure…..,,,,,, [23:48PM] You: something tells me ur already here and thats why you’re asking

(A honk outside your window.)

[23:49PM] Jeongguk❣️: 🤪 [23:49PM] You: my hairs wet 🥺 [23:50PM] Jeongguk❣️: i’ll roll down the windows?

(A sigh.)

[23:50PM] You: pls give me five minutes

Jeongguk had been parked up outside, his car hidden half in the shadows by a flickering streetlight, inconspicuous and with the inside lights on. It had taken all but three minutes to find his car, and another three for you to warm up to talking to him inside the car. Slipping into the passenger seat with the sound of Magnetic Moon on the AUX and the shining smile from Jeongguk had been nerve-wracking, perhaps nerve-wracking is even an understatement. Nonetheless, the song had rolled to an end and just before Tiffany could transition into the smooth vocals of Lana, Jeongguk said his first few words beyond “hi”.

Olive Garden was a few miles away from your neighbourhood- small and pushed to the side with a selection of palm trees scattered outside, like a postcard for Malibu. Like most, if not all American’s, you’ve been here before, already have a go-to on the menu. Jeongguk drives into a parking bay near the shrubs and opens the doors for you, pulls out chairs, goes the extra mile ordering wine in advance in a private section of the restaurant that you didn’t know existed. You’ve only ever been here with Yoongi and Yoojung, two celebrities who sometimes have the luxury of leaving the house and not getting immediately noticed.

“What do you wanna do after?”

Jeongguk, halfway through cutting his sirloin steak, glances up with an honestly surprised expression. “You still want to hang out after?”

You shrug, taking a sip of the wine. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because our first date since I got back from tour is at fucking Olive Garden,” Jeongguk states.

“I like Olive Garden…” you mumble, which he hears.

After swallowing a large mouthful, he sends it down with a gulp of wine. “Well, I’m not gonna complain. Shall we go for a drive? You ever been to the beach at night?”

“I live in LA, who hasn’t been to the beach at night?”

“Okay, true,” he replies. “I used to do it all the time in Busan, too. Lived right across the road, could see the sands from my front porch.”

Once dinner is over, and once Jeongguk has quite finished coercing you into sharing an ice-cream sundae with him, Jeongguk takes you up on the invitation to drive to the beach, the night sky like looking into the eyeball of a stuffed animal, the stars like specks of dust on an Afterlight edit. The boulevard is lit up by circular bulbs, tiny attractions for moths, bright like close up stars. Jeongguk drives smoothly, the window slightly down and occasionally his eyes glanced over at you; your hair is messed in the wind, the sound of Kim Petra on the AUX sending your body into little bops, something Jeongguk wants to remember for the rest of his life.

“So much for letting my hair dry.”

Jeongguk laughs from the back of the car, closing the boot and bringing out some spare towels to hand over to you. They’re yellow, like fresh little buttercups, and slightly wrinkled, smelling like faint juice and sea-salt. Regardless, you take the towel off him and begin to quickly rub it against your hair, once again trying to even out the wetness, less than the shower back home, enough to still drip on your arms and legs.

“You splashed me first,” Jeongguk replies, standing outside the door whereas you sit with your legs hanging out, sideways on the backseat. Behind him is the beach, dark and the sound of the ocean lapping like television static, the faint sound of the amusement arcade down the prom. His body is wet too, the ankles of his jeans clinging to his skin with ocean water.

You turn your head to him, smiling. “Guilty.” When he laughs, you continue to speak and bring the towel back down to your lap, “Okay, it’s what they all do in the movies. What else are you supposed to do on a beach at like...midnight. Wait, what time is it?”

“I dunno, like, three?” he guesses.

“No way.”

“Feels like three. Check the front.”

You lean over to check. “It’s definitely not three.”

Jeongguk shrugs boyishly, that same grin creating dimples near his chin. “Not far off. It was a guess.”

“Good for a guess,” you assure. Jeongguk wrangles the towel from your hands politely, wringing it out and throwing it back into the boot. Your hair can dry again in the wind when Jeongguk drives away, the same way it did when he picked you up. He has this theory on his mind as he walks back around to the open door, although the words leave him when he returns, having found that he has nothing at all to say now it’s come down to it.

Jeongguk moves back in, his body shoved between your legs slightly as he moves closer. You gaze up at him, the light behind him making his body glow dark, sighs like whispers in the quiet ambience.

“I really had a lot of fun tonight,” Jeongguk says, like it’s a secret. “Even though this morning your family almost had a heart attack discovering that we were, well, whatever we are...I still had fun.”

You hum in agreement, watching his face as it moves into the light. “Yoojung had the best time. I haven’t seen her that happy since she met Paul Rudd at Disneyland, and that’s seriously impressive.”

Jeongguk laughs quietly. “Paul Rudd.” He almost can’t believe that.

“As for us,” you continue, stress on the ‘us’ which brings Jeongguk’s attention full circle and back entirely onto you in the backseat of his ride, “well...what are we?”

For a few moments, Jeongguk doesn’t say anything. “I have the fantasy and the reality.”

You nod, encouraging, and so he continues. “The fantasy is that we give it a go. We try it, really try. Y/N, with every small inch of my delicate, precious body-” (giggles are delivered by you as he speaks)- “I absolutely adore you. And I never knew I could feel like how I feel with you. I only ever wanted the sex, and even then, I didn’t want it that badly, and then you wandered into my life and everything feels so...so...I don’t even know a word. I just know it feels amazing when I’m with you- I feel amazing. And, of course, the reality is that we’re two sad early twenties rich kids who are pining and don’t know what to do about it.”

And it’s true, it’s so true. The sad reality of it all was that unless either one of you stepped up first, this dynamic of uncertainty would continue on as the norm. Where you were too shy to be bold and make a move, Jeongguk felt too insecure to step up.

“Well, then…” you start, chewing the inside of your cheek, thinking. “How about we try making the fantasy our reality?”

Nothing.

Jeongguk blinks and cocks his head in bewilderment. “Really?” You nod. “You want to?”

“If I didn’t want to, why the hell would I leave my house with wet hair to go eat at Olive Garden and lovingly stroll on a beach at midnight?”

Jeongguk’s eyebrows raise in amusement. “Oh, so it was loving?”

“I was definitely feeling some kind of way,” you confirm.

At long last, Jeongguk smiles wide, shuffling closer. His hands wrap around your face gently, like holding a delicate bird in two palms, and his fingers brush against your ears, tickling the skin, nails fingering your hair.

“That’s good to hear,” he replies, “Great, actually.”

“Yeah?”

Now, Jeongguk hums, his trademark reply for when his eyes are too lost for words to be conjured up to describe how he feels about what he sees. He is, what one might recall to be as “lost for words”. His teeth clip at his bottom lip as he questions what he’ll do next, and for a brief moment you catch his tongue darting out in nervousness as he leans closer, smell of mint on his breath as his lips touch yours, and the heavens open.

Metaphorically and literally, so. As Jeongguk brings you closer to him, his lips still pressed on yours, his heart elevates into subspace, his body light and euphoric. At the same time, the sky grumbles, hungry, and it begins to pour, tiny droplets on the roof of the car and on Jeongguk’s back. He winces, doesn’t pull away, and quickly separates himself from you to squint at the sky.

He sees nothing, because it’s way too dark, but he feels it. Sighing briefly, Jeongguk turns back to you and nods his head upwards, miming for you to shuffle backwards into the car. A rush of something hot creeps down the middle of your body as you do so, feeling Jeongguk’s hand on your calf as he climbs in after you, his ankle caught on the door bringing it to a close, but not fully. The red alarm light is bright and begging for attention but Jeongguk pays it no mind.

Instead, he crawls back to you, eager to pick up what he left. It’s welcomed, warm and inviting, as Jeongguk holds you back closer to him and returns the kiss, hot and open mouthed. Something clicks inside of you, a moment of realisation as Jeongguk sets himself over you, his thighs like a cage and his hair tickling your eyebrows. When this feeling simmers, you grin, something Jeongguk is only mildly surprised about. He doesn’t ask questions, he doesn’t really need to.

In fact, Jeongguk doesn’t really say anything at all; he doesn’t need to, and he actually can’t, given the volume of the rain now it comes down heavier. It’s so loud, almost deafening, which you almost thank out loud for. The rain at least covers up your breathy moans as Jeongguk’s hands wander, pulling at the bottom of your dress and fisting it into a ball, the fabric rising higher.

When Jeongguk finally pulls himself away, it is selfish. He pulls back and sits down, in the middle seat so there’s a window view from every angle, his feet in either footwell. Jeongguk shakes his head and hair out of the way, his hands making their way back to you to bring you up and over into his lap. This time, Jeongguk accepts a kiss from you, his cheeks cupped almost by your hands which gives his hands free reign to smooth across your body, swiftly lifting the bottom half of your dress up, wrapping it like a belt across your hips. If the rain were silent, he’d like to have heard you, heard the way you whimper as the bulk in Jeongguk’s jogging bottoms brushes against your pussy, the fabric of your underwear making it hypersensitive and ten times more exciting.

Jeongguk’s lips widen, his mouth open and inviting for you, accepting tongue when you bring your lips back to his after a short break. His eyes flutter and roll backwards, the tickle of your breath through your nose on his skin as he holds you closer, as if you can get any closer than what you already are. Then, when you quite suddenly bite down onto Jeongguk’s tongue and lips, he groans, pleasured, his hands moving beneath your skirt to grab your ass, lifting you up and down on his very attentive boner.

If Jeongguk or yourself ever thought that the first time you’d have sex would be near the public beach in the back of his car in the middle of a very thunderous rainstorm, you might have laughed, or said there would be more to it. In actual fact, it’s just how it is- Jeongguk shimmies himself out of his bottoms soon enough, reaching into the back side of the car to pull out a condom, since he always has some in case of emergencies, like most guys do. He’d like to not use one, but he knows it’s not safe- he doesn’t know if he’s got something, or if you’ve got something. Either way, he rolls it onto his dick in a record speed and sinks you down onto him all within the same ten seconds, and, yeah- it’s not what he expected to happen, it’s not what anybody expects to happen, but it feels right, feels great. When he’s fucking somebody as good and as lovely as you, he’s not allowed to be picky on the location.

He can’t allow himself to be picky- he knows that he’s wanted you ever since he saw you swirling to Dancer in the Dark, he knows that things are meant to be how they play out. Actually, he doesn’t mind it. He likes the risk of someone seeing, likes the way the windows fog up and how the car rocks slightly, obvious to people outside. Jeongguk relishes in that excitement, crossed with the pleasure and arousal coursing through his body when his attention is pulled out of hit thoughts and back onto you. The rain quietens down and he hears you, feels his hands grip tighter around you and his guided pace quicken, all with a breathy high tone in his ear, occasional breaches of rain and roars of thunder, an orchestral accompanying each of you through the sex, until gushing sounds of rain are what he hears when he sees white in his eyes and over his dick, a melting handprint in the condensation on the window.

[02:34AM] You: def just heard something on my balcony so if i die, pls tell yoongi that it was ME who lost his left airpod and it was also me who stole his signed Nirvana album it’s on my shelf im sorry [02:35AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: um  [02:35AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: wtf….. [02:35AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: u really just gonna die and not leave anything for me???? [02:36AM] You: SSKSSKKSKSKSK [02:36AM] You: u can have my bank account details + contents [02:36AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: !!!!!!!! [02:37AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: omg rip y/n <3 u will be missed omg…..omg cant believe ur dead

All jokes aside, you stare for a long time at your balcony doors, going insane at the sight of nothing at all through the glass and your curtains, slightly see-through to allow the sun in the mornings.

The night burns on your eyes, flashing swirls of colour taking over as you stare for too long at seemingly nothing at all. Quite possibly, it is the wind, or an animal that has climbed onto the balcony from out of one of the trees. It’s happened before- one time, a family of raccoons migrated onto your balcony during the September months of last year, and stayed there for so long that you forgot your balcony had doors. Those same doors are locked, like they always are on a nighttime, but the bedroom window remains open, slightly pushed out to allow in a breeze to circulate the room.

Knowing that it’s probably nothing, you settle back down into bed, drifting back into sleep remarkably fast for somebody previously quite concerned with being killed. This fact is startling- not just to you, but also to Jeongguk, who cocks a leg over your balcony rail and then through your window. What also shocks him was how easy it was to do all of this, now that he’s standing in your bedroom with nothing to say given the fact that you’ve fallen back to sleep.

Jeongguk sighs softly. It’s been about a week and a half since the beach, and the car, and the rain and the first time, but it feels like it’s been months. Jeongguk had to leave for a few days, three at the most, to film some puppy interview for Buzzfeed and continue other solo interviews while the rest of the band settled for a break in their LA residence. Every moment away felt like agony, so painful that Jeongguk found himself back outside your house, surprises stored in emails on his phone.

He steps quietly over towards your bed, wincing when his weight on top of the comforter causes a loud rustle and squeak. Still, you don’t wake, not until Jeongguk lays himself over you with his hands near your shoulders, his voice quiet and murmuring your name, hair tickling your face, lips on skin.

“Wha-Jeongguk?” you ask quietly, your voice groggy. “How’d you get in here…?”

“I think you need security, urgently,” Jeongguk replies quietly. When you roll over onto your back, he smiles gently and wraps hair from out of your face around your ear. “And you need to start locking your windows. You make a robbery look very easy.”

You sigh. “Oh. I thought it was okay.”

“Just be glad your intruder is me and not somebody else,” he says caringly. “Sorry I woke you.”

“No,” you say, rubbing your eyes. “I was awake...and then I closed my eyes for a bit. Hey, was that you out on the balcony?”

Jeongguk grins. “Knew you saw me.”

“I didn’t. Well, I did, but I thought I was being overly paranoid,” you tell him. You yawn away from him, “What time is it, babe?”

Jeongguk purposefully ignores the feeling in his chest. “It’s two fourty.”

You groan. “Are you stopping the night? Get in, I’m tired.”

Jeongguk brings himself down to kiss you once. “No. No, no, you can’t sleep right now. I wanna go out.”

“Now?” you ask, aghast.

“Yeah. Let’s go somewhere.”

“At like three-am?”

“Yeah, sorry, it was the only time I could get it. I wanna take you somewhere special.”

Once Jeongguk is finished speaking, you open your eyes wider and observe him. It’s only then that you notice his clothing; over his upper body, he wears a large oversized grey hoodie, slightly worn out and wrinkled with the drawstring missing, and as always, dark jeans that blend in with the night. A frown worms its way onto your face, your expression unreadable to Jeongguk’s eyes.

“Get it? Get what, babe?” you mutter.

Jeongguk hums, like shrugging.

“Where are we going?” you ask, starting to sit up which forces Jeongguk to roll over on the bed, until his feet swing over the side and hit the floor. He wants to stay quiet for the sake of yourself, considering he’s not looking forward to accidentally waking up your family. You’ve been staying at your parents' place for the entire week, abusing reading week for sleeping in, going out for something to eat, and returning home to watch Glee rather than finish your art assignments. Naturally, Jeongguk doesn’t want the whole family to reject him just because he woke them up at three in the morning to collect you from your room.

“Hm,” Jeongguk starts, straining to hear if anything outside your bedroom catches his ear. He faintly hears the sound of claws across the wood, remembering you once mentioning that your family had a dog. “How about we go to Paris?”

You whip around to look at him, making out his silhouette in the dark. “Paris? Are you fucking with me?”

“Why, what’s wrong with Paris?”

“There is nothing wrong with Paris,” you affirm, gasping. “I just...really? Paris?”

“Yeah. Thought we could stop by The Louvre to see that dude Maxine tried to set you up with.”

You snort quietly, moving to turn on a lamp which brightens the room into shades of orange. “How did you even know about that?”

“I hear things,” he says, shrugging. Jeongguk then shakes his head and looks back at you, making his way to the bottom of the bed. “No. I just really wanna take you out somewhere special.”

“The beach was special to me,” you tell him.

Jeongguk smiles, “Me, too. But...Paris.”

Laughter bubbles at the back of your throat. “Okay. Let’s go to Paris. Why not?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk agrees, laughing also, “why not? Need help packing anything? You won’t need a lot, I can take you out when we get there.”

You pull a face, looking back at Jeongguk. “Wow...our first vacation together and you’re already going to spoil me?”

Jeongguk grins widely, “Well, on our first date I humped you, so I guess we’re pretty unconventional.”

You have nothing to say in reply to that.

(PARIS)

One thing you never thought you’d get the chance to do is take a trip on a private jet, holding up the scheduled flight times of other aircraft at the airport. That changes the second that Jeongguk pulls up outside of LAX, his hand carefully and tightly clamped around your own as he escorts you whilst also being escorted by his own small handful of security right into the large building. Thankfully for him, the airport is empty, occupied by sleeping flyers who wait on hard, metal chairs, the tinny sound of music playing at volume three.

His jet is small, yet luxurious; it’s everything out of a movie set, decorated in mocha creams and whites, clinking glasses of champagne waiting to be swallowed. His pilot knows him by name, and there’s a handpicked air hostess who looks bored and old, her lock screen a picture of her children. Jeongguk smiles at her, even addresses her by name and introduces you with a chirpy tone. The lady looks surprised, covering it up with a tight smile of nervousness. Maybe you’re the only girl Jeongguk’s ever brought on the plane before. Maybe you’re another girl he’s brought on the plane, you don’t know for sure.

After take off, Jeongguk spins in his recliner seat and drums his fingers in his lap. You sit opposite, looking meek, your gaze out the window at the dark clouds and sky. As you continue to fly, the sky opens up, into ombre colours that fascinate. One is looking at the beauty of nature and the other is looking at the beauty of a woman. Neither says a word.

When the plane reaches touch down, the airport is quite bustling and energetic, thankfully again no fans who caught an air of mystery from Jeongguk’s suspicious tweets at one in the morning, when he spontaneously booked tickets without even getting the green flag. Money to waste, risks to take, is what he’d say. Jeongguk helps you carry your small bag to the hired vehicle, an inconspicuous black car with black-out windows. He’s half expecting the vehicle to give him away, but nobody present actually gives a fuck about who is in the car and who isn’t. So, he climbs in without being noticed, his hand in yours, right up until the doors close and you’re hotel bound.

“Fuck, jet-lag.”

Jeongguk dives onto the bed, his back on the duvet and nose tipped up to the ceiling. Presently, you’ve been in Paris for a few hours, staring at the roads below with tired and sleepy eyes, heavy shoulders, a day indoors. Jeongguk’s been to Paris before, quite a few times actually - you haven’t, seeing the city in glimpses outside your balcony. To his right, the bathroom light clicks off and you shuffle out, a towel wrapped around your body as you cross the width of the room.

“Right?” you agree with a small frown. You crouch to pick up a fallen jacket off the back of the chair, tucked underneath the white vanity. “I almost fell asleep in the shower.”

“Yeah? You tired?”

“Exhausted,” you say honestly. “Once I’m dry, I think I might head to bed.”

Jeongguk hums in reply, maybe agreement. He lets you do what you need to do; of course, he takes a peek, because he’s a boy and he can’t help himself. You’re dressing by the window, staring out at the pretty Eiffel Tower who shines, lit up for the evening. The room is dark, dressed in midnight tones, the only light outside and the glow of one of the lamps upon the table top. Jeongguk is so wordlessly in awe that he doesn’t care about not being able to see. He sees your silhouette against the light of the city, curved and beautiful, hidden away by a long button up that you picked out of the wrong suitcase, not that he cares. His cheek is pressed against the pillow and he feels his body lifting up off the bed like he’s levitating. God, his chest is so light, it hurts, he wants to scream, he wants to cry, laugh, smile, leap up and yell. You finish buttoning and turn and he returns to the mattress.

The bed dips as you crawl up onto it, your knees by Jeongguk as you sit next to him on the bed. Instantly, Jeongguk’s hands move to your hair to move it away from your face as you look down at him, one hand on your knee also. On command, the smile on his lips widens softly when you brush away his fringes off his face, humming and then reaching down for a kiss, stealing one from his lips without warning and another off the slope of his chin.

“Paris is pretty,” you tell him. Jeongguk hums. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He shrugs awkwardly. “Sorry it’s not the Maldives, baby.”

“Whatever. Paris is better,” you say. “Our view is gorgeous.”

You look back at the window. Jeongguk does not. “Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

“Must have been expensive as fuck,” you exhale, turning back to him. His hand that was once on your face drops to your back, wandering until it’s found on your ass. It feels nice, you can’t complain.

“Rich kids of LA come to Paris to make noise and take tourist photos by the Eiffel Tower,” Jeongguk replies, joking but sounding serious, which is a talent of his. You laugh, so he knows it’s something you recognise. He laughs too. “It’s actually in Yoongi’s name. Just asked him if I could use it for a weekend away.”

Your brows curve upwards in amusement. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m a fraud, it’s not my apartment,” he sighs, “but, at least we’re here. Like it enough, and I’ll buy us a house here.”

“Are we really there yet?”

“Might be,” Jeongguk theorises. “Wanna try it for a bit longer?”

Nothing is said. Outside, a car honks and you sigh at the same time, through your nose, playing with your fingers with Jeongguk’s locks of hair that grow longer over his face. His head hasn’t moved, still squashed against the pillows, his earrings tangled and most likely stuck to strands of his hair, a difficulty for when he decides to move. He feels your hand on his face again, comforting, and he inhales your familiar scent and knows you’ve come closer by the time you’re there, pressing your lips to his.

It’s fleeting, fast. You pull away right as Jeongguk comes to terms with what you’re doing, and so he follows you up as you move away. He’s sitting up, his hands on your elbows as he moves to kiss you again, finish what you started.

A bar door outside opens and music spills out, just as Jeongguk’s hands move from your elbows to your ribcage, his heart in his throat when you reach up to tenderly hold his face, fingers near his ears on his neck. This is euphoria; your hands drop, Jeongguk moving once more to prod and palm. As he kisses you, his thumbs gently massage around your breasts, in circular motions, soft and cradling and exploring. Into his mouth you groan, quietly, like a vocal moan that lasts for a few seconds before being captured by his lips again. Jeongguk’s left hand claws at your boob, grabbing, reaching up to your neck. Now he’s holding you, his hair in his eyes tickling as he guides you. On your cheek, you feel his thumb grazing, holding you close to him even when you pull apart for a modicum of a second to capture your breath. Quite possibly, he could be sick out of nerves - your hands fall limply to his wrists, then down as his hands hold the damp back of your head. After a little longer, Jeongguk pulls himself away, his eyes half-lidded and yours closed entirely.

He admires what he’s done and what he sees. Once more, he kisses you, dragging it out until he’s moved away again, simply admiring. You’re far from done, though; you pull him back after catching your breath, your eyes now open and slightly fuzzy. Jeongguk smiles, warmly, gently. You might cry. As his hands drop from your head to the top of your shirt, fiddling with his fingers around the buttons, your lip gets caught between your bottom teeth and Jeongguk’s eyes are drawn to the sight. He might make a comment, might not. He decides not to. Instead, he moves back in and bides his hands time to undo your buttons.

The cool silk of your shirt drops as he undos the buttons, sliding like rainwater down your shoulders and arms, until it pools around your elbows. Thankfully for him, Jeongguk’s only in joggers and a button down, something he can easily slip himself out of. You’re wearing next to nothing, now that the shirt’s out of the question; all that decorates underneath is underwear, which Jeongguk doesn’t care for anyway. His hands paw at the shirt, trying to undo the last button without pulling away but it feels impossible. Frustrated, he huffs and moves away, his gaze locked on the final button above your pantline and he flushes when a laugh leaves your lips, something small and delicate and girly. He twitches.

“You, too,” you say, once the shirt is removed and you’re only in underwear, which is next on Jeongguk’s list of things to remove. He looks up with mild surprise, having the audacity to be confused by what you’re talking about. It is only when your fingers curl around the waist of his joggers that he smiles, like an idiot, and hums charmingly.

“Shuffle back for a minute?” Jeongguk asks, and you do, excited and buzzing when Jeongguk quickly pushes the joggers down his thighs. When they bunch around his ankles he kicks furiously, like a child, grunting - and you’re laughing, giggling like a school-girl, drunk on the residue of his lips. Of course, he smiles too, because happiness is a goddamn drug. He inhales with exasperation, muttering “아이씨” under his breath. He finishes it up with a chuckle, a voiceless laugh out of his throat, and then he kisses you again.

Jeongguk eventually ends up lifting you, one arm flush against your waist and his other hand graciously ripping down your underwear, careless and selfish when he hears the fabric tear. Your eyes widen, having heard it too, but you’re too dazed to mention it. The undies are tossed towards the balcony door and Jeongguk settles you back on his lap, for a brief moment. He kisses you again, pulling himself snug against you and then, he lays you down.

“So pretty,” Jeongguk comments, his hands sliding down your sides.

“You can’t even see me,” you say.

Jeongguk shrugs, shuffling down the bed. His elbows pinch into your thighs, locking his arms over them and his chin is on top of your groin. “Don’t need to. I just know.”

You slightly laugh, finding it endearing. Jeongguk chuckles too, pressing a kiss to your stomach and then his hands push up at your calves. With your legs up into arrow shapes, knees to the sky, Jeongguk kindly peels them apart, planting himself right in between.

“Jeongguk,” you breathe his name. He grins, you can feel his mouth extending against your skin. He doesn’t reply.

Situated between two smooth legs, Jeongguk’s head dips and dives. A groan is rasped out of you, followed by a string of moany exhales as Jeongguk’s tongue lays flat, covering every inch of your pussy further with sucks and nips that make your toes curl. Jeongguk’s not done this to you before. He feels slightly anxious, because he wants it to be good for you. He wraps his arms around your thighs, burrowing his head in.

“Mpmf- Jeongguk,” you gasp, your head hiding in the comforter. Jeongguk’s on his stomach, nonchalant. Jeongguk licks everywhere he can, kitten licks that stretch out into long ones, exploring. Your mouth drops. Jeongguk moves one hand away from your leg, his fingers curling up to your pussy to stretch out your labia, one finger lazily brushing against your clit. Each brush is exciting, teasing, sensitive. He hums. He’s heard you. He wants to hear more.

He doesn’t do more, because Jeongguk doesn’t want you to cum yet. He has his fun, feeling your thighs lock around his head and quiver when his fingers swipe on your nub, his tongue inching into your cunt, driving out sounds from your lips. Jeongguk entertains that for a few more minutes, hard and throbbing by the time you’re begging for him to stop, rather than keep going.

When he pulls away, your legs shake, quivering like being left out in the cold for too long. He lays down flat instead, tapping your body for you to make a move when you’re ready, which doesn’t take long. Soon after, he feels the brush of your wetness against his leg as you haul yourself up and onto him, hovering over his middle, your hands on his chest.

Jeongguk cocks his head thoughtfully. “Want to?”

You bite your lip. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Hair falls over your shoulder. “Do you have a condom on you?”

“In my bag, somewhere,” Jeongguk suggests. He glances to the pile of bags near the door, “But it’s so far away. Are you on the pill?”

“No,” you frown. There’s nothing for a minute. “Want to anyway?”

Jeongguk hesitates, “Yeah. Do you?”

“Yeah. I do,” you tell him. Just as you’re about to take his dick in your hand, Jeongguk reaches out to stop you. You look up at him, finding the glimmer in his eyes in the dull light, “what?”

“What if I cum?” Jeongguk asks.

“I’d like you to.”

“What if I cum inside of you?”

A short silence. Jeongguk drums his fingers impatiently against your thigh. “Whatever,” you settle with. His heart trembles when your hand wraps around him. “I’d be a good Mom.”

Jeongguk laughs, then, his other hand joining the other on your waist. “If it happens, I’ll look after both of you. You can be unemployed and pampered if that’s what you want.”

“God, that’s fucking sexy,” you sigh.

He’s kidding, so are you, but the risk is still great. Jeongguk swallows a thick lump down his throat and settles his hands on your hips, embarrassed to be nervous with the build up of you rising up on your knees, planted either side of his waist. A tremor of coldness makes him shudder as your hand touches the base of his dick, hypersensitive without the rubber. For a brief moment, he catches your gaze, slightly hidden away behind fringes of hair that cast over your eyes.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, nervous and rubbing his hands against your skin.

You dip your head. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Mhm. I just - just want it to be good for you,” he confesses. “Don’t want it to hurt you. Don’t want you to regret it.”

“Well, are you clean? I got tested not too long ago, did it before my last pill. I’m clean.”

Jeongguk shifts. “Did it on tour with Hoseok. He was going because of Rosie and I was going because he suggested it for us. I’m good. That sound alright for you?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It sounds perfect for me.”

And so it’s perfect for him, too. Jeongguk questions whether this is right, whether he should stop, but right now he can’t think properly. Not when he can feel himself growing rigid in your grasp, the bristle in his body when you slowly rub your clit across the head of his cock, vibrations. He grunts under his breath, his fingers shaking against your hips. Looking up at Jeongguk once more between your hair, catching the pull of his bottom lip in the scarce light and feeling his body rising beneath you, you shake your head over your shoulders and position yourself. And then you sink.

Paris is a gorgeous city, bustling with life. Across the narrow road, where another small apartment sits with a bay window and a balcony decorated with plants, the lights flicker in strobe patterns, neons bleeding into dulls seeping into pastels. A party, a parade, an applause when the size of Jeongguk adjusts inside of you. He can’t hear you, not over the noise of the party that has suddenly birthed in the moonlight hours. Perhaps Jeongguk is thankful for this, and the way it covers up his noises also.

Jeongguk groans inwards when you clench around him, familiar with the way it feels, remembering the unaccustomed sting and burn. After some time to adjust, you relax, making your first movements up and down, testing the waters, building a rhythm. Jeongguk can’t breathe, his mind paused, his breathing lodged in his throat, his lungs singing. You keep it up, the momentum, finding a pattern in the beat of the music in the background; the bass is your routine, each bump a drop onto Jeongguk’s hips, the brush of his head against your inner walls, euphoric.

“Oh my - fuck,” Jeongguk hisses, his voice barely heard. You catch it though, like a faint whisper, the sound burning your face with embarrassment. His grip tightens, nails digging into your skin as his palms slide from your hips to your ass. He holds like handles of a motorbike, guidance.

You’re slouching, hunched over with your hands on Jeongguk’s chest. He feels a pressure, not sure if it’s your hands pushing down or if it’s his own body, forcing down an orgasm he doesn’t want to have too soon. He sees purple behind you, your dark silhouette cast over him like an angel. With every slap against his body made by your ass, Jeongguk groans, grunts, borderline moans. When he strains to hear your gasps of air something in the background masks them, a sabotage.

“Feel good?” Jeongguk asks. His hands move to your wrists.

You whimper, thoughtless.

“Babe, does it feel good?”

“Mhm.” Your head falls to the side, cheek on your shoulder: “Mhm, feels good.” Something moany comes out of your lips, something muffled and whined. Imploring, spoiled. “Fuck, Jeongguk, that feels so good - keep….keep it like that.”

Jeongguk thinks it over, familiarising himself with his own movements. His grip squeezes around your wrist.

“Like that?” He follows with his body slowly thrusting up, like he would move if he were grinding the air, like inching his hips up under the covers to feel his dick on the duvet.

“Yeah,” you breathe. Even though he can’t see that well, you glance down at him: “can you - can you hold my hands?”

Jeongguk feels his stomach sink and rise, flipping, the butterflies. “Sure, baby.”

When you feel Jeongguk’s hands in your own, you hum to yourself, rising with your fingers interlocked. Jeongguk lets you do what you want with them, obliging when you slightly part his arms, hands locked on either side in the air. You sink, and rise, and sink, and rise, and Jeongguk is lost in the stars. Red, orange, blue, magenta- the rainbow appears as your wings, Jeongguk’s eyes trying to adjust in the dark on your face, on your tits, on the bits that are grainy in his vision. He imagines instead, based off memory of the beach, and the rain. When he feels your cunt clench around him again and your hands slip away to fall back behind you, Jeongguk curses into the air and lifts himself up, his arms wrapped around your middle.

“You feel so good,” Jeongguk says, his lips ghosted over yours now that he’s sitting upright. “Mhm? Hear me? Fuck, you feel so fucking good right now-”

You whimper. Jeongguk seals it up, steals it, captures it with his mouth as he kisses you. His hands are all twisted and searching, one between your shoulder blades and the other on your ass, his mind reeling when you put your palms on his cheeks, absolute bliss. It’s loud, or it would be if he could hear over the sound of the music in the apartment over, and Jeongguk picks up pieces in between the basslines, vocals and harmonies stripped apart so he can find your voice underneath. He pulls his mouth away, latching it to your neck, where your mouth is near his ear, right where he wants it. A hot flush runs up his body when he feels your breath on his ear, hears your needy moans and groans, feels your hands clawing at his back.

“Ugh- umf, Guk, I’m - I’m close,” you pant, his reply a bite to your neck. He sinks his teeth in, like a vampire with dull teeth, and you cry out into his ear. His cock twitches inside of you, the ridges of his cock smearing against your walls. He hums, not sure if you’ll hear it. You don’t. He pulls away and mouths the bite.

“Cum when you want to,” he says sweetly, moving his mouth to your ear briefly before moving back away. His hair is soft against your neck, his head angled to kiss at your skin, covered in a glow.

“What about you?” you ask.

Jeongguk smiles, his teeth present on your skin. “Don’t worry about me. I’m right behind you.”

He nuzzles his face into your neck, his eyes closed serenely as he holds you tight, holds you as you bounce up and down for the finale. Above him, your body trembles.

“Tired,” you laugh breathlessly, and Jeongguk makes a confused noise, like he hasn’t quite heard you correctly. After no reply, he sniffs, collecting you in his arms to hold you tighter than before, using his energy to move you. You may as well be paralysed, a fucktoy for him as he bounces you up and down, basking in the moans in his ear, pornographic and nasty and lewd and heard over the music that has changed tempo.

“Ah!” Jeongguk grunts into your ear with every slam onto his dick, feeling his body seize up in warning. “Gonna - I might…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. You’re not listening to it. All you can focus on is the feeling in your stomach, pressing your nails into Jeongguk’s skin.

Jeongguk saves his own release for later. He focuses, instead, on you and making you feel good, slowing himself down in the race so that you can come first. His lips press back to yours, tongue hot, and he stops bouncing you. One arm is tight around your waist and the other snakes to the front of your body, between your legs where around your thighs he finds your clit, rubbing with his thumb. He can feel your body tense and dither over him, a tightness clenching around him as you squirm, Jeongguk’s hips tiredly thrusting upwards in a slow and steady rhythm.

“Ah - Jeongguk,” you cry, words sinking into his mouth. “Baby-”

With one final flick upwards, Jeongguk lets out a throat-forced grunt into your mouth right as the pot spills, and down the length of Jeongguk’s dick trickles white. You can’t see, it’s dark and blurry, and everything feels numb. It’s nothing like the beach, which was sweet and tender and a rainy haze. This time, it’s a burning that feels dull until it races up your body, like hot goosebumps, until it washes over your body like the drop from the tallest roller coaster. Jeongguk milks it up, his own hands shaking as he grunts wordlessly, until he stutters, his toes curling.

“Umf- babe,” he pants. He moves his hands, you’re attempting to move for him but you feel stuck. Instead you clench, hard and soft, Jeongguk squirms. “Gonna- I’m-” He’s silent. One moment, you hear the laughter and a cork pop outside, and the next moment, Jeongguk’s moans are in your ear, his hands rubbing up your thighs as he moves twice upwards, as if storing his cum in safe spots inside. And then, as if on cue, he pulls out, stuffing his hand where his dick was to feel the cum drip out, like a melting ice-cream.

On his forehead he feels your lips parted and breathing and he fiddles his fingers around, non-sexually, curious. The cum stains his fingers, dressing them, and he laughs from his chest, lost of breath.

Jeongguk sighs, slotting his fingers into your mouth quite suddenly. He can barely see you, the light is still dim behind you but it’s enough for him to make it out, the grain obtrusive. He feels your lips close around his fingers and your tongue on his fingertips, a dazed smile across his face.

He sighs again. “Shit. You’re incredible.”

With a wet sound, he moves his fingers out. Despite cumming, his dick is still semi-hard, on it’s way out. Jeongguk preens when your arms wrap around his neck, his mouth needily on yours for a brief kiss. “So good.”

“Yeah?” you ask quietly.

“The best,” he confirms. “Where’ve you been all my life, hm?”

You laugh through your nose, quiet. “Wasting money at Uni and working for my cousin.” He laughs too, a small one that makes him sound small. You play with the hair at the back of his head, “Sorry for making you wait so long.”

He shrugs. “Was worth it. You’re worth the wait.”

You hum in reply, too tired to move.

“Sticky,” you say with a frown.

Jeongguk’s arms tighten around you, acknowledging your words. “And you just got clean.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll shower in the morning.”

After a short while of sitting there, you slowly untangle your arms from around him. Jeongguk has the nerve to be confused, a small hum in question as you climb off him.

“Where you going?” he asks.

“I’m going to pee,” you reply. “To be safe.”

“Oh. Okay, pee on.”

“Sorry,” you say. Leaning up to kiss his lips, Jeongguk smiles into it and all the while as you move to hurry towards the bathroom. The sound of the toilet seat being lifted, and a slight squeak from the toilet that Yoongi desperately needs to consider replacing, and then Jeongguk settles down onto the bed with a happy sigh. His chest rises and falls as the party goes on outside, fireworks behind the Eiffel Tower.

He could get used to this.

Something wakes you up with the sunrise, twisting into soft orange colours that stretch across the agriculture of Paris. It barely lights up the city, enough for shadows to still be drawn across the mocha coloured buildings, the stone still cold in the shade. You wriggle inside the sheets slightly, discomfort between your legs and very slowly, your eyes adjust to the slight light brewing in the bedroom.

The patio doors leading out onto the small balcony are drawn open, the see-through curtains swaying like slow hips in the wind. Beside you, the bed is cold, untucked and open where Jeongguk has climbed out. Mentioning Jeongguk, you notice that he sits on the end of the bed, facing the sunrise and the Eiffel Tower with a notebook in his hand. The pages are folded over the spine, bulking it up, and he taps a pen against his ear quietly. The sound is all you can hear alongside the early-rising birds, a car honk outside and the next door neighbours hanging out of their window with chocolate bread and strong coffee.

“Mmm. Guk?”

Your voice is slightly hoarse, bedirdden, and Jeongguk manages to hear it as he turns his head over his shoulder. A smile dawns on his face and he shifts, one hand on the bed and the book closing shut on its own. “Hey, baby. Sorry, did I wake you up?”

You yawn, rubbing your eyes. Some mascara rubs off onto your hand. “No, you’re okay.” He doesn’t say anything at first, there’s no competition for the next word. When your vision finally settles onto a visible image, you see Jeongguk’s face and the book in his lap. “What are you doing…? Wait, what time is it…”

“It’s about five thirty,” Jeongguk estimates, although he’s not sure. He’s actually not far off, it’s five fourty one. “And, um...not much.” For a moment, Jeongguk sounds bashful. He shrugs, hiding the book and smiling at you. “You can go back to sleep if you want. I’ll be quiet.”

“Kinda hungry,” you admit. You inhale the air, “Oh my God, those fuckers next door have coffee.”

“Chocolate bread, too. Caught a glimpse when I opened the doors.”

You groan. “What the fuck…”

Jeongguk laughs, genuinely. His head turns back towards the Eiffel Tower, in awe, and after a few minutes of nothing but morning silence, you sigh and clamber over the sheets. They’re cold, crisp and wrinkled, and Jeongguk looks up at the noise. He frowns, only because you’re wearing barely anything.

“You’re gonna get cold,” Jeongguk points out, his hands reaching for the bed throw that had been kicked onto the floor during the night. “Want me to close the window?”

“No, it’s pretty.”

“It’s cold, though.”

You push your face onto Jeongguk’s shoulder blade. “Whatever.”

He chuckles, resigning from the conversation. You’ll win anyway. A tiny bird lands on the patio rails, and you inhale the morning air, planting a kiss on Jeongguk’s shoulder.

“You sure you’re okay?”

This makes Jeongguk look up. His eyes wear confusion and adoration, round and searching as he looks over his shoulder. “Yeah. Why, why wouldn’t they be?”

“I worry about you, ‘s all,” you reply quietly. “All the time.”

Jeongguk’s heart breaks.

“I’m...I’m good,” he replies honestly. “Really good. I haven’t been doing this great in...well...I don’t know, forever? Call it cringey, or whatever, but having you in my life...Fuck, it’s changed everything.”

You gaze up at him. “You’ve made a pretty big difference in my life, too, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m here for you. Always.”

Jeongguk doesn’t miss a beat- his hand wraps to stroke your hair, curled from the shower earlier, pressing a little kiss to your nose. He nods, and his hair brushes against your face. “Yeah.” He nods, confident, “Yeah. Actually- LOL,” he laughs, “I. Um, I wrote something.”

“Oh? Yeah, what did you write?”

He reopens the book. The pages are littered with lines of writing, alongside small doodles in the margins, words like arrows shooting across the lines. His hands flip to a page that has the corner marked down, the numbers “23” in bold outline at the top of the page. You inhale, nervous, your eyes lazily looking at the lines.

“Just a song,” Jeongguk explains. “Woke up, looked over at you, just got the idea. I had to write it down as soon as I thought about it. Got the melody and stuff worked out, just need to make a note and tell the guys when I get back.”

You hum, genuinely enthralled. You quickly look at him, “Can I hear some?”

If it were light enough, you might have caught a blush across his face. He clears his throat, shy.

“I’m fadin’ away off some kind of drug, maybe it’s lust, maybe it’s love,” his voice is quiet, almost as if speaking the words is something wrong, “I know I said I’d straighten a week ago, I feelin’ though, bout to reach my peak, you know. This city’s got me fallin, now, I’m fading away, I’m losing my head…” He mutters the lyrics, singing quietly. As he skims over what he’s got scribbled down, you can feel your heart thudding, soaring, feeling numb and soft and warm and everything else.

“It’s about you, called 23,” Jeongguk says. At some point, you’ve missed the rest of the lyrics, intent on gazing at Jeongguk like he is God’s angel sent down from Heaven. He is so beautiful, so kind and pure. “Sound okay?”

You nod, and maybe Jeongguk sees tears pearling in your eyes. “Yeah. Fuck- it sounds beautiful, Guk.”

A smile immediately reaches across Jeongguk’s face. It lights up the room better than the sun, now reaching higher into the sky. “You’re beautiful. I wanna make you so happy.”

“You do make me happy.”

“Yeah?” he asks, laughing, his eyes turned into moons. “Well...Look. I’ve never had to ask anyone, so it’s awkward as fuck right now, but...like…” He laughs, and you do too, because you know it’s coming, “Do you, like...wanna be my girl?”

“Your girl?”

He laughs louder. “Fine - my girlfriend! Y/N L/N, the light of my small and sad life, will you please be my girlfriend?”

Once your laughter has calmed down, and Jeongguk’s hand tiredly slips from your hair down to the bed next to your own, you really, honestly look at Jeongguk. Above everything else, you can’t quite believe that you are here with him; with somebody you never thought you had a chance with, with somebody who you would do absolutely anything for. The way you presently feel about Jeongguk is overwhelming and dangerous, so strong that sometimes you feel afraid by it. You bite your bottom lip, amusing the idea of actually thinking about it, and then you nod.

“Sure. Of course,” you agree, kissing his shoulder. His head follows you, his breath on the bare skin of your shoulders as he ducks his head to kiss the side of yours. “You’ve got me.”

Jeongguk feels like he could quite honestly burst into tears. “I’ve got you.”

(“I’m not 23 though,” you say to him once the love has died down. He cracks a smile and pushes you back onto the bed, returning to look at the Eiffel Tower.)

part two (final)

[villainousshakespeare]

In The Timing

Tom Hiddleston/Reader

Rated E 

Warnings: Smut, Angst, *But in this chapter only FLUFFFFFF with a teasing mention smut 

Chapters: 4 of 4 + Epilogue

After a horrible first date, you end up at a pub filled with University students. You are feeling rather old and sorry for yourself, until a blond haired Adonis strikes up a conversation with you. Obviously he is too young for you, but what could a little flirting hurt?

@yespolkadotkitty @hopelessromanticspoonie @nonsensicalobsessions @caffiend-queen @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @vodka-and-some-sass @arch-venus25 @devikafernando @devilish–doll @hiddlesholic @just-the-hiddles @kellatron55 @myoxisbroken @wrathkitty @shae-annelore @kellatron55​ @from-hel-i-with-love​  ciaodarknessmyheart

Chapter 1 - First Meeting

Chapter 2 - The Morning After

Chapter 3 - Years Later

Chapter 4 - Time’s Up

Epilogue

"Ladies and gentlemen, you know my first guest as Loki the God of Mischief and The Night Manager. His new movie,  In The Timing, is currently nominated for a slew of awards, including the Oscar for Best Picture. Please welcome back to the show Mr. Tom Hiddleston."

You smiled as Tom jogged out onto stage to thunderous applause. Or maybe "thunderous" wasn't quite right. Thunderous implied deep, and the cheers for your man were much higher in pitch, clearly spearheaded by all of the overeager women in the audience. You couldn't really blame them. In his monochromatic blue suit and leonine mane of hair, Tom was definitely scream worthy. Still, that didn't mean you wouldn't take great delight in teasing him about his status as heartthrob later.

The response to  In The Timing had been incredible, with glowing reviews and box office receipts that were much higher than expected for an independent romantic comedy. Now, with the studio making a push for it on the awards circuit even more people were coming out to see the movie that was your labor of love in more ways than one.

All of this was wonderful for you and Tom, as you were both receiving accolades and prizes for your disciplines, but it also meant an endless round of press junkets, talk show appearances, and gala screenings all around the world. Most of the weight of this, of course, centered on Tom's deliciously broad shoulders, but you had your own share of speaking engagements as well. To your amusement, he had insisted that the studio coordinate your schedules, so that you were promoting in the same city at all times. He had just gotten you back, he insisted. After seventeen years apart he was not going to spend one night separated from you if there was anything he could do about it.

You were only too happy to go along with this plan. The state of pure euphoria you had been coasting through your days in had come to a screeching halt the first time you were asked to get up onto a stage in front of a thousand people and answer questions about your process and the characters you had imagined. Only Tom, standing to one side of the stage like a proud and nervous papa watching his child win her first spelling bee had kept you grounded. Every time you started to falter, you would look over and see him practically speaking for you with his body language. It would make you giggle inside how earnestly he watched you, reacting to the questions with amusement or indignancy on your behalf. What did it matter, you realized, what anyone else thought of you, when the over grown ginger in the wings believed in you so completely.

That didn't mean, of course, that you would let him off the hook for the swooning fangirls. Someone had to keep his head from becoming too big to fit through the door.

"So, Tom," Colbert was saying as you focused on the interview, "I hear you've got a new picture out."

"I have," he answered with a smile, playing along with one of his favorite hosts. Between the Hank Williams duet and the Hamlet soliloquy, Colbert was right up Tom's alley.

"Yeah, I hear it's pretty dreamy. Or rather you are pretty dreamy in it."

"I don't know about that," Tom chuckled with humility, face going a bit red. "I don't know who would have told you such a thing."

"Oh, my female staff, my daughter, my wife..." Stephen deadpanned as the audience laughed. "What is it about this film that is so... I believe the word was "swoony"."

"Swooy? An excellent word. From the old English geswogen, meaning "in a faint"" you rolled your eyes as Tom pontificated.

"If you say so," Stephen laughed.

"I would say that it's the waistcoats, Stephen," Tom said with an impish grin. "They are rather constraining, depriving the wearer of appropriate oxygen. Hence the swooning."

"I see. Interesting. Now, this is a romantic comedy. Normally those are not big Oscar bait movies. Oscars tends to go more for tradgedy or history... the feel good tropes.

"Exactly," Tom laughed along.

"So what is it about this movie that makes it so appealing to awards voters? Is it the waistcoats?"

"Maybe," Tom smiled. "Maybe it's the waistcoats."

He was so charming, you thought you could feel the adoration from crowd washing towards the stage. He would be on cloud nine tonight, you knew. Tom feeded off of the energy of a crowd in a visceral way. It wasn't ego, exactly, or at least not just. It was the validation of his hard work, and the knowledge that he had shared something with an audience that had touched them on a personal level, made them experience something as a communal group.

With a smug smile you wondered if he would be able to wait until you were back to your hotel tonight before sharing that excitement with you, or if you would have to find a closet or some other private room to slip into for half an hour or so. Over the last few months there had been a number of times when, sometimes for no other reason than a look you had thrown at him, Tom had siezed you by your wrist and dragged you to some semi-secluded spot to have his way with you. Hell, once or twice you had even been the one to push him into an alcove and reach for his zipper. Your relationship all those years ago had been marked by insatiability for eachother, and if anything the years apart had only added to the ferver to touch, taste, and fuck eachother senseless.

"Along with the costuming, which is brilliant - bless our wonderful costuming department - I think the thing that sets this movie apart is its writing," Tom was saying, throwing an adoring glance in your direction. "It really gets to the heart of what it means to be in love. How we, as human beings, with all our foibles and idiosycrosies can be our own worst enemies in the persuit of our heart's desire."

And seriously, how could you not love this man to distraction? 

"The course of true love never did run smooth," Colbert threw in.

"Exactly. Shakespeare said it best as usual. But do you know which character that was?"

"Helena, Midsummer Night's Dream," Stephen said uncertainly.

"Close, very close," your walking Shakespeare anthology smiled sugly. "Hermia. Act I, Scene 1 I believe."

"I'll take your word for it," Colbert surrendered to the master. "So, you're nominated for a slew of awards - a BAFTA, a SAG, an Oscar... is there anyone that you are really gunning for? It's the Oscar right?"

"Well, sort of," Tom hedged.

"What do you mean sort of?"

"I am enormously flattered to be nominated for all of them, of course, and so excited for the film to be recieving so much love. But the award I'm most excited for isn't an acting award for me, or even Best Picture. It's the Adapted Screenplay Award."

"And why would that be, Tom Hiddleston?"

"Well, as I mentioned before, the writing, particularly the dialogue, is truly the star of this picture."

"Uh-hu. No other reason?" the host prodded. "I know you're a private man when it comes to your relationships..."

"With reason, you have to keep a bit of life for yourself."

"Of course. So, what do you want to share with us Tom?"

"Well, it just so happens that the writer of this particular movie is someone very close to my heart," he smiled a dopey smile that made your stomach do filp-flops.

"How close exactly are we talking?" Stephen asked, also shooting you a look.

"Well, Stephen," Tom grinned, "it just so happens that this particular author, this beautiful, brilliant, compassionate woman, has recently become closer to me than people may realize."

"Really?" Stephen grinned back at him. "You know, it just so happens that I see her standing there in the wings. Shall we invite her out here?"

"Well..." Tom threw you a smile, eyes saying that he knew he would be in trouble later, "I really do think that she deserves to be the one sitting out here discussing the movie. She is the reason it is a success after all."

"What do you think ladies and gentlemen?" Stephen asked the audience as you glared at both of them. "Shall we bring her out?"

As a chorus of enthusiastic yeses assailed your ears, you vowed that you would make Tom pay for this later, possibly ususing the pair of fur lined cuffs he didn't think you knew he had purchased when you were strolling through the village the day before. Resigning yourself to your fate you sighed and nodded you head once to their entreating glances.

"Ladies and gentleman, she is the writer behind In The Timing Victoria Thomas," you still were not used to hearing your pen name spoken out loud as often as it was, or responding to it. You were going to have to do something about that soon, you thought.

"That is her pen name, indeed," Tom said as you walked slowly out on stage, glad that you were dressed in a chic Calvin Klien dress that flattered your figure, "I hope you will all join me in welcoming the newly minted Mrs. Hiddleston!"

  It had been a complete suprise. You and Tom had been walking through Central Park, Bobby frisking around you as he chased invisable prey. Your fingers were linked together, and Tom had at least somewhat learned to shorten his long stride to make up for your significantly shorter legs. After a bit of wandering, you had made it to the Shakespear Garden near both Delacourt Theater and Belvedeare Castle, and Tom had pulled you down beside him on a stone bench.

  "This garden," he told you conversationally, "has every flower the is mentioned in Shakespeare's plays planted in it."

  "That's so interesting," you teased, even though you did find it interesting, you loved to give him a hard time over his love of all things Shakespeare.

  "All of those flowers," he went on as though you hadn't spoken, "and not one of them is close to being as beautiful as you are."

  "Tom," you sighed dreamily, snuggling against his chest. Honestly, how had you gotten so lucky?

  "Darling," he said, a nervous tone creeping into his usually confident voice. "I wanted to ask you something."

  "What's that?" you said lazily, enjoying the smell of his skin as he kissed the top of your head.

  "Would you look at me love?" he asked.

  You lifted yourself off of his chest to see an anxious expression to match his voice.

  "I know that we have not been back together for long," he began, hands figiting, "but I think you know how much I love you."

  "I do," you smiled at him. "I love you too."

  "And we have, if you think about it, known eachother for almost two decades."

  "I suppose."

  "Given that, and that I don't think I will survive parting from you again," detaching himself from you, Tom dropped down onto one knee and your mind went blank. "My darling love, will you marry me?"

  You gaped at him in stunned disbeleif, unable to move or speak as the sun glinted off of his copper curls. As your eyes met his you saw a look of hope begin to shade into panic, and realized that you had not given him an answer. Just as you were wondering how mouths and tongues worked, Bobby barked loudly and jumped up onto the bench beside you, breaking the spell that you had been under. You burst out laughing, and after a moment so did Tom as Bobby licked at your face.

"Upstaged by my own dog," he grumbled good naturedly, some of his confidence coming back as you were beaming at him. "  B ut come, darling, ' what sayest thou then to my love? speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee  .'"

  "I say yes," you smiled at him as he rose to spin you off your feet in a circle. "Of course yes, Tom!"

  Two days later, in a quiet ceremony attended by just imediate family flown in secretly and his ever vigilant puplicist Luke, the two of you were married in the same spot by your fiesty dirctor Susie, who had obtained her liscense online for the occasion. It was peacful, and even if one or two persistant pedestrians had been able to snap a quick picture of you in your ice blue dress and Tom in a perfectly tailored Ralph Lauren suit, Luke had been able to keep any whisper of it out of the press. As gossip control went, it was a minor miracle.

"So, you two crazy kids tied the knot, huh?" Stephen asked as the crowd finally died down.

"Yes," Tom said quickly, looking a bit nervous. "Though as you may be able to tell by the expression on my beautiful bride's face, we hadn't made the announcement public yet."

"Oh that's okay," Colbert waved it off, "they won't tell, will you guys?"

The crowed laughed at the notion of it staying a secret after such a public announcement.

"Well, congratulations Tom, and to your lovely wife, my condolences."

"Oh, I think Tom's the one who's going to be needing condolences soon," you joked, and Tom gamely winced, though his eyes said he wasn't sure how much you were joking.

"So, why did you agree to marry such an obvious fixer upper?" Stephen asked you. "Couldn't you find anyone good looking?"

"It's a struggle, Stephen," you sighed and the audience laughed, as you had married, by your own reconning, the most handsome man on the planet. "But, well, I'm in love you see."

"Ah," he nodded sagely.

"Yup, I'm in love with Bobby, and the only way to get the dog was to say yes to the man."

"My evil plan worked, you see," Tom chimed in, laughing his endearing ehehe

"You used the dog to get the woman? That's next level planning!"

"Well you see, Stephen," Tom said, staring into your eyes with an intensity that made you forget you were on national TV, "I have been in love with this particular woman for seventeen years. And if it had taken adopting an entire three ring circus to finally get her to marry me, that was what I was going to do. Fortunately for our home, one adorable Spaniel was all it took."

"Seventeen years? Really?" Stephen looked back in forth between you, a wealth of unanswered questions in his eyes.

"Indeed. She led me quite a chase, but I wore her down in the end."

"I have a feeling there's a story here," the host said, in huge understatement, "but I'll wait until your next visit for that."

"I'm afraid that story is not suitible for television," Tom demured.

"Well, can you at least give any advice to the fans out there? Some help for the lovelorn?"

"Well, in the end," he said, giving it his usual deep thought, "all I can say is it's all in the timing."

"And that, my friends, is what we call a segue. You can catch the movie in theaters now."

Tom glanced over to you and winked with a cocky grin, and you thought of all the things that had gone between you, the years and passion and the love. You loved this man with everything you had. He might be insufferable, he might occasionally push you beyond your comfort level, but you knew in that moment and every moment that you were loved with a fierce, constant heart. It was the happy ending you had always dreamed of. And it was yours.

                       Notes:        

Thank you all so much for reading. It has been a wonderful story to write.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Hickory Dick-ory Dock (baon)

Summary: A prequel to the series, a glimpse at how Sans and Red's relationship got started.

Tags:  Kustard, Angst, Ecto-Genitalia, Sex, Antagonism, Brats to Lovers, Lemony Goodness

Notes:  Okay, this is the last kustard one, I swear, Edge and Stretch just needed a little break after everything that happened. Besides, with all this Sans and Red stuff coming up, I thought it might be interesting to see how they started out. 

It's swell! Watch out for that lemony goodness!

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was either too early or way too fucking late to be awake, and Sans’s body hadn’t decided on which one yet. The only chair in the room was as shitty as the rest of the furniture, stiff-backed and with the kinds of stains it didn’t pay to think too deeply about. Not really worth sitting in except for those moments where someone shouldn’t be having a cigarette but still was. Supposed to be no smoking anywhere indoors, but in a motel that prided itself on a cash-only, Sans didn’t think anyone would be chasing them down for a cleaning fee.

Of the two vending machines by the elderly ice maker, only one of them worked and it reluctantly parted with a can of Pepsi for the rip-off price of two bucks. Not even an honest swindle, it was piss-warm and unsatisfying, even for someone without a proper throat.

The tiny bottle of whiskey he’d nabbed earlier on the plane was of a decent sort, though, helped smooth the path down, and by their powers combined, it was teetering on the edge of acceptable. Not like they were going to be here for long, anyway. Sulking about it would be petty waste of precious little time.

“you gonna offer me some of that or keep it for your private party?”

Sans glanced at the bed, but Red didn’t bother opening his sockets, still sprawled out in the wreck of the sagging mattress. A corner of the sheet was draped over his pelvis in a parody of modesty and the colorful splatter on his femurs made Sans idly think of the modern art at the museum Blue dragged all of them to a few weeks back.

Sans took a deliberate sip from the can, then a drag from the cigarette, holding in the smoke long enough for it to start seeping from his sockets before he exhaled it. “dunno, haven’t decided. maybe i like a solo act better.”

That got him a single socket opened, a thin rim of crimson showing. “yeah? was getting the idea earlier you preferred a duet. i spent the better part of an hour sucking you off, and this is the thanks i get?”

“isn’t it supposed to be the thought that counts when it comes to gifts?”

“uh huh, and what i’m thinking is it should be your turn to make your way downtown,” Red shifted, drawing his knees up and letting them fall to either side. The tangle of the sheet gave tantalizing glimpses of pelvis and the beginnings of a swirl of magic within it. “c’mere, little boy blue, come blow my horn.”

Sans snorted and crushed out the cigarette on the scarred old desk, leaving a blackened mark that matched a dozen others. “like i’ve never heard that before.”

“i know you haven’t,” Red gave him a sly, sulking look and rolled to his side, giving Sans his back, and yeah, he got the unspoken insult there. “you’ve never fucked anyone with my crushing wit.”

“mother goose ain’t exactly phd material and you might be crushing, but i’m the one pounding tonight.”

Sans hopped down from the chair and snagged the can, carrying it with him to the bed. He sat on the side of the mattress, trailing an idly finger down the intricate curves of Red’s spine. That was worth a faint sigh, exhaled through a jagged-tooth smile. Fondling the sensitive cartilage between each vertebra was better, Red arching into the touch with a hissed groan, undulating between that generously stroking hand and the stained sheets.

It added to the novelty of the occasion, could tack that sight right in with all the other scenery Sans never expected to see. Lovely bones, gleaming palely in the neon light creeping in through the slatted blinds covering the windows. The scars littering Red’s bones were predicable, but discovering the slimness of them beneath that ever-present jacket wasn’t, smaller even than Sans, all bulked up and hidden beneath heavy layers.

None of that made Red any less dangerous, but then, that was part of the fun, now wasn’t it.

His hand got lazy while Sans was taking in the sights and Red made a complaining sort of sound, rolling onto his back and stretching. The sheet, already doing a poor job at an attempt at modesty gave up even that, sliding completely loose. That left nothing covering Red but the remnants of come, still tacky yet, smearing as Red ran a pin-sharp fingertip up the inside of his femur. Sans watched, rapt, as red and blue mingled, sullied into purple.

“give me that.”

For a split second, Sans lurched obediently forward, ready to crawl between those femurs. Then he saw that wickedly sharp smirk curling up and noticed Red was reaching out towards the can that was starting to crumple in Sans’s too-tight grip.

It didn’t pay well to show Red any weakness and Sans swallowed down his flusterment, handing it over. Watched as Red tipped it back and swallowed down half the can in a single gulp. There was probably a pun to be made there, getting hit hard with a soft drink, but instead he only watched, tried not to think of what his eye lights were revealing as he stared at Red licking his teeth, the tips tinging to crimson as he nicked his own tongue against them.

“you gonna come down here or just enjoy the show?”

“i was about to leave,” Sans said, slowly. Like it wasn’t a lie and he wasn’t sitting here without even his shorts on. “paps will be wondering where i am.”

All the ambassadors were tucked away in their own five-star hotel, none of them suspecting their head of security and his second had skulked off, leaving them with the rest of the bodyguards. They were safe as houses, had to be or Red never would’ve been coaxed off, but Paps might come to his room, might ask for a bedtime story or just a chat.

“yeah, can’t let your little brother know you’re sneaking out to fuck around with me, now can you?” Poisonously sweet and okay, Red could, and did, get away with murder all the fucking time, but Sans wasn’t gonna let that slide.

“that how you want to play it?” Sans let a smirk of his own work its way loose. Like this lovely secrecy was for his benefit? “oh, miss mary, quite contrary, you want me to call him? i can give him the room number, see if he wants to stop in and verify. probably some paperwork that needs done, ain’t there, the bossman fucking his subordinate, bet he’d volunteer to help, he likes filling out forms.”

“you’d need form 109b, you’re the one who fucked me,” Red’s eye lights glittered with unnamed emotion. “hoping i’ll call you on that?”

“go ahead, if you think i’m joking, i could use a few chuckles."

“bet you could. i’m all about the jokes, but 3 am is a tough crowd.”

Sans ran his tongue along the even line of his teeth, considering. And then he went for blood. “we aren’t meeting up at roach motels to keep secrets from my brother. tell you what, wanna give the edgelord a call, instead? bet he and stretch are already done banging for the night, all curled up together for beddy-bye.”

“it’s 11am back in the states, i’m more likely to interrupt some meeting.” Oh, but there was blood in the water now, and fucking shark that he was, Red could smell it.

“great, then asgore can listen to our first ever porn podcast.”

Sans reached for his shorts and dug out his phone, humming as he pulled up Papyrus’s contact. “i don’t worry about my bro. let me give him a call, then you can call yours—”

His phone clattered to the floor as Red slapped it out of his hands. Sans kinda hoped it wasn’t broken, he wasn’t gonna have time to get a new one in the morning before all the meetings started and sitting there without candy crush to keep him entertained would be an endless nightmare.

“you gonna fuck me or not.” The words caught on a snarl, Red’s eye lights shading into a deep, harsher crimson, his mouth twisted into a grimace.

Sans hummed thoughtfully. “you gonna give me something to fuck?”

He did one better, rolling onto his front and forming ectoflesh from just beneath his ribcage to the tops of his femurs. The generously rounded globes of his ass were a bribe, but Sans wasn’t too proud to be cheap. He cupped them in both hands, firm flesh but with comfortable give.

But he wasn’t quite ready to be bought. “needed a nice cushion for some pushin?”

“you’re bitching at me for mother goose when you’re putting out that shit? fuck me, already, before i die of boredom—hnn!”

Seemed polite to wait until he was at the end of a sentence to push two fingers into his cunt. So slick inside, already practically dripping with want and Red whimpered as Sans worked to coax out a little more, pressed in another finger just to feel the hot stretch around his knuckles.

“huh. think i like your mouth better when you aren’t speaking,” Sans teased. He worked another finger in, all that slippery wetness making it easy. Yeah, much better like this, gasping and whining, mangling obscenities while Sans scissored his fingers inside him.

"yeah? think this is gonna shut me up?” Red managed to gasp, "gonna have to try harder than that, i could take your fucking fi—gah!!”

"what was that? seemed like you had something to say, sweetheart." Red gave it another try at the same moment Sans gave a little thrust with his fingers, letting them glide in and out, riding that silky wetness as Red’s curses tangled in between whines. In the interest of both their orgasms, it seemed best to reach up and push two fingers into his mouth, forcing him to suck on them and hoping Red didn’t take the opportunity to bite them off.

Instead, a moan vibrated through his phalanges, the slick little tongue between his fingers made him think of other places that mouth had been. Tight, hot little mouth almost as good as his tight little pussy and yeah, it was kinda vulgar to pull his fingers free, slip them still wet between Red's legs to rub his clit but the lovely little writhe he did excused it.

"oh,” Red groaned out, “that's…oh, fuck, you – yeah, just –"

Might be better if he took the continuing effort at speech as a compliment. Not difficult to do with the way Red was pushing back at him, wriggling and rolling his hips in a way that could never be taught, could only be known. He felt the sudden clench around his fingers as Red started to come and quickly pulled them out, left his cunt clenching on nothingness while he scooted back away.

Even as Red spat out curses in the ruins of his orgasm, Sans caught hold of his hips and dragged him up to his knees, hastily forming his cock. He rubbed it along the wet slit, but Red was squirming so much beneath him he slipped away on the first try.

“hold still!” Sans slapped one asscheek, and Red howled…and did it, spreading his knees wider to let him line up. Then he had to catch his own breath, that long, easy slide inside, surrounded by wet, clenching pussy. Easy, too easy to dig his fingers bruisingly into the giving ectoflesh of Red’s hips, lifting him to make the angle that much deeper. His rhythm was shitty and desperate, no finesse left to him. Sans could only drive in as hard as he could, his hips slapping against that generous, crimson backside.

Didn't matter, Red was along for the ride, both hands braced against the headboard and wood shavings curling around his razor fingertips as he dug them into the cheap particleboard. The room was a cacophony of conflicting sounds, flesh and bone striking, the bed frame creaking, and both of them breathing like they were about to dodge a blow. The sudden feeling of Red tightening around him in a sweet, constricting ripple made Sans gasp and listening to his choked, desperate cry as Red convulsed and came again was almost as good as coming himself.

Almost.

The air around them was thick with the scent of their sex, sourly spicy and nothing sweeter to soften it. Sans sagged down on top of Red, ignored his grunt as he let him take all of his weight, and breathed it in.

~~*~~

The sky was only graying with dawn when Sans woke up again. The bed was empty next to him, only the stained blankets and sheets to keep him company. Sans managed to crawl out of bed and headed towards the bathroom, gathering up his wrinkled t-shirt and shorts along the way.

Shitty as this little hotel managed to be, the mildewed shower still had plenty of hot water and Sans basked in it, scrubbing away the night before with the sliver of complimentary soap.

The cab ride would only take fifteen or so, but he still wouldn’t have time to get changed when he got back to the hotel where the ambassadors were staying. Paps would scold him for wearing the same thing as yesterday, loudly and with vigor, and groan at whatever puns Sans offered before slyly offering back one of his own.

But he wouldn’t say anything about Sans being gone all night in front of the others, those questions would only show in his worried glances, and soft, secret questions about whether Sans was being safe.

Damn shame Sans didn’t know the answer.

For now, it didn’t matter. Time to head back and play nice in front of the Ambassadors, and put on some sunglasses so no one could see if he fell asleep. Maybe tonight he could persuade Red out again and they’d give Humpty Dumpty a try or even Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater. Worth a shot.

He hummed as he stepped into his rumpled shorts and slipped on his t-shirt. If he hurried, he’d have time to grab coffee. Maybe this time he’d bring one for Red, too, the way he liked it for once, hot and bitter black.

Maybe. It wouldn’t hurt to be a little kind, just this once.

-finis-

[angsty-nerd]

Echo-inspired Season 1 Playlist

So I’ve been meaning to share this for… a really long time.  But I’m kind of glad that I waited so long because I found a bunch more songs to add and ended up doing an edit on this playlist this weekend, so this is where it landed.  It’s a bit of a beast—40+ songs. (And it’s my shorter Echo playlist… I have another one I’m still playing with that has all of these, plus the show’s soundtrack songs, plus recommendations that I’m still considering for future Echo use…so this is the reasonably lengthen one…haha).  If you just want to go to Spotify and check it out, here’s the link.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/14ZIHN2MwjfgFbA6yF3RAO?si=5vPkiahyQw-voaZjqMLWsw  

If you want to read my rambles about the progression of the songs and why I picked them, along with some lyrics from each one that make me think of Echo, that beastly monstrosity is below the cut for you!  Here’s just the track list:

1. Armor - Sara Bareilles 2. People Need a Melody - the Head and the Heart 3. A World to Explore - Joshua Radin 4. Missed Connection - the Head and the Heart 5. Summer Years - Death Cab for Cutie 6. It’s OK - Natalie Taylor 7. Something American - Jade Bird 8. Anchor - Novo Amor 9. Harvest Moon - Neil Young 10. Crash Into Me - Dave Matthews Band 11. Silhouettes - Oscar Blue 12. The Storm - The Airborne Toxic Event 13. The Space Between - Dave Matthews Band 14. Walls - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers 15. Ruins - Jade Bird 16. The Last Time - Taylor Swift feat. Gary Lightbody 17. Run No More - the Talbott Brothers 18. Wild Heart - Bleachers 19. Dream - Bishop Briggs 20. Lullaby - Lord Huron 21. Watch Me - Labi Siffre 22. Grew Up Fast - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers 23. 17 - Jade Bird 24. Your Hurricane - Death Cab for Cutie 25. Lose that Light - Folly and the Hunter 26. Such a Simple Thing - Ray LaMontagne 27. Make These Colors Real - Hush Kids 28. Surrender - Natalie Taylor 29. I’ll Be Your Mirror - Clem Snide 30. Courage - P!nk 31. Easy - Camilla Cabello 32. Day Too Soon - Sis 33. Truly Madly Deeply - Yoke Lore 34. Side by Side - Layup 35. Electric Love - BØRNS 36. Duet - Penny and Sparrow feat. Stephanie Briggs 37. Atlas: Two - Sleeping at Last 38. Another Story - the Head and the Heart 39. Come to this - Natalie Taylor 40. Six Feet Under - Billie Eilish 41. Hello My Old Heart - the Oh Hellos 42. Poetry by Dead Men - Sara Bareilles 43. Recovering the Satellites - Counting Crows 44. The Chain - Ingrid Michaelson

PRE-SHOW

1. Armor - Sara Bareilles

Stolen from Carina’s Liz mix, and obviously heavy on the Ortecho vibe in general. I might associate it a little more with Rosa back in the flashbacks, being proud of Liz and protective of her.

You think I am high and mighty mister Wait til you meet my little sister

2. People Need A Melody - the Head and the Heart

This song just gives me images of Max sitting at home over the years, listening to music, and then Bright Eyes comes on and it just takes him back to that day in the desert when he was lucky enough to be openly in love with Liz for one day before everything went to hell. 💔

All those books in your head, Is that all this really was? Just a role you play that you could hide behind Is it what you want? To bury yourself away Before your time goes I don’t want a love that holds us back I don’t want a life that I can’t have

Cause people need a melody to open their eyes Like a key to a memory frozen in time Holding onto everything, you’re stuck in the past Boy, when you gonna learn the world moves fast?

3. A World to Explore - Josh Radin

Liz leaves on her road trip, pushing the past away, and moving forward into her new life.

Yesterday rains came Everything’s changing The past has closed its door Well I know there’s something more I know there’s so much more So far to go On this open road, a world to explore So far to go On this open road, away we go

4. Missed Connection - the Head and the Heart

Somewhat self explanatory, I think. Mostly I just think of Max staying in Roswell haunted by all of the what ifs, and how close he and Liz came to being something real.

Did you find what you were looking for? Had to open every single door I get the feeling you’ve been here before From a missed connection Don’t tell me I lost a step Criss-crossed in the wrong direction Found myself in a conversation From a missed connection

5. Summer Years - Death Cab for Cutie

This is, like, my #1 Max over the 10 year gap song. I just hear him all through it, haunted by Rosa’s death and the coverup, heartbroken by Liz’s sudden departure, and trapped in his life.  

Sometimes I’m overcome by every choice I couldn’t outrun… And I wonder where you are tonight If the one you’re with is a compromise Cause we’re walking lines in parallel That will never meet and it’s just as well

6. It’s Ok - Natalie Taylor

You know in the pilot, Max says he used to think about what he’d say if he ever saw Liz again. Meaning he didn’t really anymore. Meaning at some point he let go of the hope of her returning to Roswell. That’s kind of where my mind goes listening to this song.

It only hurts me to live this way Holding on to yesterday… Close my eyes, you’re gone And I’m the only one still holding on It’s ok I’ve got to let you go

7. Something American - Jade Bird

I have an old-school song fic just waiting to come out inspired by this song… I hear a lot of different things in it. Mostly I hear Max and the memory of Liz and Cameron in it. With a little bit of Kyle thrown in too.

In my dreams I find The stars align and they all collide And it’s you and I back in time It feels so right But you don’t call me now And I don’t think too much about you When she’s not around I can feel you’re lonely

PILOT

8. Anchor - Novo Amor

Max’s reaction to Liz finally coming home & hoping she’ll stay.

I hear your ship is coming in Your tears a sea for me to swim I hear a storm is coming in My dear, is it all we’ve ever been Anchor up to me, love

9. Harvest Moon - Neil Young

Max gets that brief smile on his face when he’s watching Liz dance in the Crashdown, before he lets her know he’s there. And this is what I hear going through his head in that moment.

When we were strangers I’d watch you from afar When we were lovers I’d love you with all my heart… Because I’m still in love with you I want to see you dance again

10. Crash Into Me - Dave Matthews Band

It honestly took me a long time to get on board with adding this one, because it’s such an important OG Max/Liz song.  But a while back in one of her Q&As, Carina said that if she could give the pilot a title it’d be this, and even with this different version of Max and Liz it still is the perfect song and perfect metaphor for their experience in the pilot.

Lost for you I’m so lost for you You come crash into me

11. Silhouettes - Oscar Blue

I mean…. 

Do I need to say anything more?  Okay, well here are some lyrics to emphasize my point.

She’s a diamond in the coal Something that enchants my soul Graceful and captivating Just one glance and my mind is invaded… So should I try really really hard Or just keep loving you from afar… Oh can we walk into the sunset Until our bodies are silhouettes Cause busy days cause busy lives And maybe you’ll just keep on walking by Are my hopes just gonna suffocate in my doubt Or am I being my anxious self drowning my chances out

SO MUCH FOR THE AFTERGLOW

12. The Storm - the Airborne Toxic Event

I definitely stole this from someone else’s Echo mix…but take it as a compliment! I definitely see a little bit of Liz coming home in this song, both from her perspective and Max’s. But in my playlist’s narrative I also see this as being kind of like the end of 1x02, when Liz makes the decision to stay and investigate Rosa’s murder.

I surprise myself sometimes The way the days unfold and this road unwinds You tell me you see it too And the miles seem like inches when I think of you It’s been 25 days since I’ve been gone 25 weeks since I’ve seen my home I spent 25 months chasing this song and all of this time I’ve been alone Then you walk right through the doorway You tell me you’re here to stay

TEARING UP MY HEART

13. The Space Between - Dave Matthews Band

So if the last song was the end of 1x02, that means now we’re in the awkward, heartbreaking period where Max is pouring his heart out, and Liz is pretending to feel nothing because she doesn’t trust him. 💔 Which is basically the running theme for the next few songs…

You cannot quit me so quickly There’s no hope in you for me… The space between the wicked lies we tell And hope to keep safe from the pain… We’re strange allies with warring hearts…

14. Walls - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

My brother played this song while we were driving from Phoenix to the Grand Canyon in February.  It was the morning after Smells Like Teen Spirit aired, Liz had just told Max that she never wanted to see him again, and I heard this song for the first time and said to myself, “YES.”

All around your island there’s a barricade That keeps out the danger that holds in the pain Sometimes you’re happy sometimes you cry Half of me is ocean half of me is sky But you’ve got a heart so big it could crush this town But I can’t hold out forever even walls fall down

15. Ruins - Jade Bird

Just…I think about Max and that painful scene between him and Liz at the end of this episode, and how much her accusations throw him off.  And the resulting explosion that caused the blackout.

How do we have to do this again? I’ll tell you how I’m feeling You’re like a cryptomaniac trying to connect the dots and the facts How do we have to be here? ‘Cause these hotels, I just can’t relax The more I bend, the worse that I snap I feel like a goddamn maniac

Tell me what did I do to deserve somebody like you? It’s too hard to tell the truth nothing’s real and nothing’s rude I’m just a product of my emotions and they’re all setting off again… You sure you wanna do this now? Oh, you sure you wanna do this now?

'Cause I mean it when I say that I don’t understand And I mean it when I say that I’m not sure who I am 'Cause one minute I love you and the next it’s all in ruins One minute thinking of you and the next my mind’s in ruins

WHERE HAVE ALL THE COWBOYS GONE

16. The Last Time - Taylor Swift feat. Gary Lightbody

Very much the Crashdown “how do you truly feel about me” scene.

Find myself at your door just like all those times before I’m not sure how I got there all roads, they lead me here I imagine you are home in your room, all alone And you open your eyes into mine and everything feels better And right before your eyes I’m breaking No past, no reasons why just you and me This is the last time I’m asking you this Put my name at the top of your list This is the last time I’m asking you why You break my heart in the blink of an eye

DON’T SPEAK

Don’t Speak is one of my favorite chunks of this playlist. I love the pre-pilot set of songs, this set, and then the Recovering the Satellites to the end set the most out of all of this whole thing. Just thought I’d share. Also 3 of my 4 favorite episodes. Hmmm… 🤔

17. Run No More - the Talbott Brothers

So, this is kind of my interpretation of Max’s POV after learning that Isobel sent Liz away. I feel like that knowledge and the realization that Michael and Isobel had manipulated the biggest heartbreak of his life, and lied to him for a decade about it, kind of freed him in a sense.  And for the first time he felt like he could stop hiding and release his guilt.  If Liz hadn’t been in trouble, I think he would have gone straight to her and confessed everything.

It doesn’t get easier the further I run It gets harder to carry the weight of what I’ve done I am speaking from experience I don’t wanna run no more

18. Wild Heart - Bleachers Pretty much same themes as above.  These two songs to me are kind of the combo of that determination in Max.  Above is more focused on his guilt and wanting to reveal the truth.  This one is more about his love for Liz and his determination to find her and protect her and love her.

As I sat with the echoes of lies that I told I felt young, never changed by crooked hearts… Well, everything has changed And now it’s only you that matters I will find any way to your wild heart

19. Dream - Bishop Briggs

I don’t remember who did a fanvid to this…was it Mo? It was wonderful and it’s perfect for the end of this episode.  Max running to save Liz from Wyatt Long and wanting to come clean to her, even though he knew it would likely still make her turn away from him. Liz breaking down at the end…sniffles.

Oh, I had a dream that you couldn’t hear me screaming Trying to tell you everything but it wouldn’t stop you leaving I wanna wake up where your love is 'Cause your love is always waking mine

I wanna break down where your heart gets So torn it’s almost breaking mine I wanna lay here, lost and bitter So long, I feel like I could die I wanna tell you what my truth is But it’s buried down inside

20. Lullaby - Lord Huron

I heart this song… and I think it speaks to Liz in this episode so much.  The danger she puts herself in, Wyatt!Noah coming after her, Max desperately wanting to protect her… 

You arrive along with the sun Where have you been darlin’? What have you done? You were out finding trouble again There’s a fire in your eyes and there’s blood on your hands Come inside and lie down to sleep You ain’t gonna run and you know that you’re beat Rest awhile, they’re coming for you There’s a price to be paid for the things that we do

Fall asleep and forget all your troubles Dream of laughter and old friends and lovers Dream of when you were innocent

SMELLS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT

21. Watch Me - Labi Siffre Early in the episode, when they were happy and innocent. I feel like this song just kind of captures that young love, high school vibe.

Watch me when you look my way See me smiling, be my night and day Touch me in your own sweet way Feel me tremble, you take my words away All of the time I love you Make you a rhyme, I love you

22. Grew Up Fast - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Here’s another Tom Petty song from my brother’s playlist that we listened to on the way to the Grand Canyon on the day after this episode aired.  I heard it, and immediately thought of the Pod Squad (and Liz) and how the incidents surrounding Rosa’s death kind of forced them all out of their youth and into a traumatic adulthood.  Also I think it kind of bridges back to the present with Max telling Liz the story of Rosa’s death and her reaction towards him at the end of the episode.

We grew up fast when lies were just a fact of life We grew up mad cause we never had a home… Hey, my brother I’ve got no fight with you, I just can’t lie down Hey, my brother I’ve got no fight with you, I just can’t lie down No, I just can’t lie down, I just can’t lie down Well, you know who I am So don’t treat me like I’m someone else… You never talk like that to no one else You never scream like that for no one else

23. 17 - Jade Bird

This…just…the look on Max’s face when Liz runs out after telling him she never wants to see him again. It’s like his heart is breaking all over again.

You asked me to be yours, well you’re tempting fate How I left a promise but it’s one I can’t make Lord knows it’d kill me if you walked away But darling my lies, they hide you from the pain Stay, let me explain why I act so mean Don’t look away, baby, it’s not all that it seems I’m so afraid that you’ll just get up and leave My heart will break like I’m 17

I SAW THE SIGN & BARELY BREATHING

24. Your Hurricane - Death Cab for Cutie

“Liz Ortecho is my hurricane.”  Max is such a ball of anger and angst in this episode.  This song may lean a little more on the anger side than really played out in the episode, but I still think it works, considering that Liz spends much of this episode creating the serum.

You used to be such a delicate kid A lonely fish in a sea full of squid So I can’t blame you for leaving how you did You just fell off the grid 'Cause heaven is a hole in the sky The stars are cracks in the ceiling of night But you can’t be your own alibi As hard as you try It’s a tired refrain you’re singing over and over again As you try to explain who’s at fault for your mistakes But I won’t be the debris in your hurricane

25. Lose That Light - Folly and the Hunter

I don’t recall where I got this song from…it may have come from someone else’s playlist.  But it makes me think about how rough of a go Max has it in Barely Breathing and how Liz is, like, the light that kind of guides him through it, that he has faith in to save his sister.

In my arms you fell, after fighting tooth and nail. The convictions you have are all gone now. You followed that trail, just to take a chance and fail. Do not let that dark voice call you out Even if it gets hard, don’t lose that light…

26. Such a Simple Thing - Ray LaMontagne

I see this as the end of the episode, when they are so close to being on the same page, but Liz is still afraid and still puts up that wall.  Max sees how amazing she is, how she’s willing to fight to save Isobel for him.  And Liz is beginning to feel it as well, because the drive to do it for Max, to comfort him, was so powerful.  “My heart is like paper” = Max, “yours is like a flame” = Liz.

Tell me what you’re feeling I can take the pain Tell me that you mean it That you won’t leave again Tell me what your heart wants Such a simple thing My heart is like paper Yours is like a flame

SONGS ABOUT TEXAS

27. Make These Colors Real - Hush Kids

This song just makes me think about that vibe all through Songs About Texas prior to the kiss.  The heart eyes looks, the touches, how close they are to going there, even though it hasn’t happened yet.  This is also the only song I couldn’t find lyrics for online so I transcribed as best I can, but I couldn’t figure one line out, so I just left it off the post! Sorryyyy… 

I guess you win, I guess I’ll see you around again Locked eyes, brushed hands. I’ll lie and say we’re only friends Yes I want you but I don’t want to Cause I can’t hold you when I want to So maybe I’m selfish, maybe it’s reckless Maybe I’m out of my mind

Ooh you make me weak you, you make me seek you You’d make me dive down to the depth of your ocean Ooh if I could hold you… I’d make these colors real

28. Surrender - Natalie Taylor

Throughout this whole episode I feel like there’s a general sense of Liz giving up her fight against Max.  She can’t hide how much she loves him anymore.  She hasn’t quite decided to be with him yet…but throughout the episode that wall thins more and more until she finally does give in to him.

No one will win this time I just want you back I’m running to your side Flying my white flag, my white flag… Whenever you’re ready, whenever you’re ready Can we, can we surrender I surrender

29. I’ll Be Your Mirror - Clem Snide

I’m pretty sure this came from another Echo playlist…because it’s the perfect song to represent Max’s speech to Liz to reveal how well he sees her.

I find it hard to believe you don’t know The beauty you are But if you don’t let me be your eyes A hand to your darkness, so you won’t be afraid When you think the night has seen your mind That inside you’re twisted and unkind Let me stand to show that you are blind Please put down your hands 'Cause I see you I’ll be your mirror, reflect what you are

30. Courage - P!nk

That split second before Liz decides to grab Max and pull him in for the kiss…

See, I let the light in the darkest places Let the sun shine, pain goes away Nothing is permanent for me Have I the courage to change?

31. Easy - Camilla Cabello

It’s almost ridiculous how Echo’s first kiss this song is. Like, seriously, Camilla? Do you watch RNM? Are you an Echo shipper? Is this your own personal fan song?

You really, really know me The future and the old me All of the mazes and the madness in my mind You really, really love me You know me and you love me And it’s the kind of thing I always hoped I’d find

Always thought I was hard to love 'Til you made it seem so easy, seem so easy Always thought I was hard to love 'Til you made it seem so easy, seem so easy Touch me 'til I find myself, in a feeling Tell me with your hands that you’re never leaving Always thought I was hard to love 'Til you made it seem so easy, seem so easy All I know is you, heal me when I’m broken, heal me when I’m broken All I know is you, saved me and you know it, saved me and you know it

32. Day Too Soon - Sia

Liz making the choice that it is finally the right time for her to stop running. Okay, Max has been waiting patiently, but for Liz everything has finally perfectly collided.

Pick me up in your arms Carry me away from harm You’re never gonna put me down I know you’re just one good man You’ll tire before we see land You’re never gonna put me down You’ll risk all this for just a kiss I promise I will not resist

Promise you won’t hold me down And when we reach a good place Let’s be sure to leave no trace Promise they won’t track us down

Now I’ve been running all my life I ran away, I ran away from good Yeah, I’ve been waiting all my life You’re not a day, you’re not a day too soon

33. Truly Madly Deeply - Yoke Lore

Awesome cover of 90’s song? Check! Super romantic to the point of almost cheesy? Check! It’s got Echo getting together written all over it.

I’ll be your dream, I’ll be your wish, I’ll be your fantasy. I’ll be your hope, I’ll be your love, be everything that you need. I’ll love you more with every breath, truly madly deeply do I want to stand with you on a mountain I want to bathe with you in the sea. I want to lay like this forever. Until the sky falls down on me

I DON’T WANT TO MISS A THING, CHAMPAGNE SUPERNOVA, CREEP

34. Side By Side - Layup

Sadly, I don’t have a lot of songs for this chunk of episodes for Echo. But they’re finally together, on the same team, being awesome, so that’s pretty much all I’m getting at with this song.

And so, now I go down all these roads with you, my home And now, I’ll keep you close I hope you know - I love you most So here I walk by your side, oh, on our own time Oh, we’ll be alright, as long as we stay side by side From the coldest nights to warmer degrees we’ll get by You and I, side by side

RECOVERING THE SATELLITES

35. Electric Love - BØRNS

I mean… Alien!God Max channeling all that lightning to get the job done is fucking sexy. And then he just marches home to worship his love the way Liz deserves. *nods firmly*

Baby you’re like lightning in a bottle I can’t let you go now that I got it All I need is to be struck By your electric love Baby, you’re electric love Electric love Rushing through me I feel your energy rushing through me…

36. Duet - Penny and Sparrow f/ Stephanie Briggs

Echo love scene. Just ignore that Liz is not wearing a dress. Everything else fits. And the chorus? *chefs kiss* “Because I’ve seen you and I know you”...ties right back to their first kiss and Max proving to Liz that he isn’t holding onto some high school fantasy.  “And I’m not going anywhere”...it breaks my heart because it was 100% true in that moment…but hours later Max is dead. 😭

I bet your shoulders can hold more than just the straps of that tiny dress That I’ll help you slide aside when we get home I’ve seen 'em carry family and the steel drum weight of me Effortless, just like that dress that I’ll help off I bet your back can carry more than just the weight of your button-down One by one, they’ll come undone when we get home I’ve seen you carry family and all my insecurities One by one, they’ll come undone when we get home

Because I’ve seen you And I know you And I’m not going anywhere

37. Atlas: Two - Sleeping at Last

This is, like, the most Max song ever. Especially where his head is at right at the end of Recovering the Satellites after he and Liz make love, when he is straight up in worshipful puppy mode.  It makes me both 😍 and 😭, because I love how much he loves her, but I know how unhealthy his devotion is, and that it leads to him dying. 

Sweetheart, you look a little tired when did you last eat? Come in and make yourself right at home stay as long as you need Tell me, is something wrong? If something’s wrong, you can count on me You know I’ll take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat It’s okay if you can’t find the words Let me take your coat and this weight off of your shoulders

Like a force to be reckoned with A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss I will love you with every single thing I have Like a tidal wave, I’ll make a mess Or calm waters, if that serves you best I will love you without any strings attached It’s okay if you can’t catch your breath You can take the oxygen straight out of my own chest I know exactly how the rule goes put my mask on first No, I don’t want to talk about myself tell me where it hurts I just want to build you up, build you up ‘til you’re good as new And maybe one day I will get around to fixing myself too I don’t even know where to start Already tired of trying to recall when it all fell apart I just want to love you, to love you, to love you well I just want to learn how, somehow, to be loved myself Like a force to be reckoned with A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss I will love you without any strings attached What a privilege it is to love A great honor to hold you, love Like a force to be reckoned with A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss I will love you with every single thing I have Like a tidal wave, I’ll make a mess Or calm waters if that serves you best I will love you without any strings attached I will love you without a single string attached

38. Another Story - the Head and the Heart

In my head this is another afterglow, Max manic on love & power and it pushes him to do something crazy song...I both see he and Liz happy together in his bed in the morning sunlights and flickering firelight...and Max deciding to heal Rosa. 😍😭

These are just flames burning in your fireplace I hear your voice and it seems as if it was all a dream I wish it was all a dream I see a world, a world turning in on itself Are we just like hungry wolves howling in the night I don’t want no music tonight

Every time I hear another story Oh the poor boy lost his head Everybody feels a little crazy But we go on living with it

39. Come to This - Natalie Taylor

Liz crying over Max’s body 😭😭😭. There is no heart eyes here.  It’s all just paaaain. 😭😭😭

How can this happen? How can this be? There is no ending, there is no peace The darkness is so close The light so quickly goes And now it’s all gone Now it’s all gone Will you hear me when I speak? Do you feel the pain with me? I’ve tried to be so strong I thought that hope would come But you’re not here

Oh, the darkness keeps its grip Oh, how’d it come to this? Oh, please come back Please come back

40. Six Feet Under - Billie Eilish

More Liz crying over Max’s body…and just love and pain and death and sadness. 😭😭😭

Retrace my lips Erase your touch It’s all too much for me Blow away Like smoke in air How can you die carelessly? Our love is six feet under I can’t help but wonder If our grave was watered by the rain Would roses bloom? Could roses bloom?

POST-SEASON 1

These are just kind of my headcanon songs of various post-S1 reactions from Liz at various different dark moments.

41. Hello My Old Heart - the Oh Hellos

I see a lot of people attribute this song to Liz at the beginning of the show, but I think it’s more appropriate at the end of the season. I’d love it if they use this song in Season 2.  I see it more as Liz putting the walls she had at the beginning of the show back up again after loving and losing Max, which would break my heart. But I think it’s how she would cope while he’s gone and then those walls would come back down.

Hello, my old heart It’s been so long Since I’ve given you away And every day, I add another stone To the walls I built around you To keep you safe

Oh, oh, don’t leave me here alone Don’t tell me that we’ve grown For having loved a little while Oh, oh, I don’t wanna be alone I wanna find a home And I wanna share it with you

42. Poetry By Dead Men - Sara Bareilles

I can see this scene in my head. I can see Liz and Max both longing for this scene in their head. Just the simple domesticity of drinking coffee together in the afterglow, while Max reads poetry to Liz.  Except that he had to go and die first and that just fucking sucks.  So I hear some anger and a little bit of “don’t let the door hit you on your way out” in this song, and I could see Liz occasionally just having moments of anger in her grief where she feels this way. Briefly.

By the time you hear this, who knows where I might be Singing about another near-miss love that ended incomplete I was ready, but you weren’t So jump with your net from this bridge you’ve burned I wanted to tell you things, all the secrets I’ve been keeping I saw it in front of me, but then you just kept disappearing A good dream, almost, now I tell your ghost

I wanted to be your girl in a white T-shirt Over coffee, stirring in the cinnamon While you read me poetry by dead men I wanted to be your girl with your hands on my skin Stirring in the cinnamon While you read me poetry by dead men

43. Recovering the Satellites - Counting Crows

This is one of the few episode titles where the lyrics actually get to me, like in a plotty way. But not necessarily from what happens in the episode, so much as the idea of Liz questioning later whether the brief moment of love she had with Max was worth all of the accompanying pain. 😭😭😭😭

So why’d you come home to this sleepless town? It’s a lifetime commitment, recovering the satellites All anybody really wants to know is When you’re gonna come down, when you’re gonna come down But we only stay in orbit for a moment of time And then you’re everybody’s satellite I wish that you were mine, I wish that you were mine

44. The Chain - Ingrid Michaelson

Definitely stole this from someone else, but it’s perfect and I love ending with it, because even though it’s loaded down with all of the pain we’re feeling at the end of the season, it also has a little twinge of hope and possibility for that future day when Max comes back (which we all know he will)!  So in other words, it’s 😭😭😍😍

The sky looks pissed The wind talks back My bones are shifting in my skin And you my love are gone My room feels wrong The bed won’t fit I cannot seem to operate And you my love are gone

I’ll never say that I’ll never love But I don’t say a lot of things And you my love are gone

So glide away on soapy heels And promise not to promise anymore And if you come around again Then I will take, Then I will take, The chain from off the door

[nonbinarycinderella]

Hero’s Cuties 12 Days of Christmas: Christmas Day Bonus - White Christmas: Part III

Hello again! I would like to wish you all a merry Christmas and gift you chapter two of my White Christmas rewrite for @heroscuties and I’s Christmas event. There will be more probably early tomorrow but yesterday and today have been very busy, so I didn’t quite finish.

Thanks for reading and reblogging!

White Christmas: Part II

“You ought to get married, you know that?” Shank declared, tossing a necklace to Calhoun. The veteran caught it effortlessly, clasping it on with practiced ease. “And why’s that?”

“Well, if you married, you ought to have kids, you know? And if you only spent ten minutes a day with each, well.” Shank snatched a slim, shining pendant from the air, Calhoun having flung it from her suitcase. “You might have six kids, and ten minutes a day with each would mean an hour. An hour without you would be an hour of bliss for me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she teased, and turned to her partner. They’d dressed in matching ensembles, the striking difference in their hair color the only thing that set them apart. Suddenly, a short, pudgy purple man stepped into the room. “Girls! I have your train tickets for tonight.”

“Thanks, Knowsmore,” Shank tucked them into her still-ajar suitcase. He grinned. “I wanted to thank you both. The whole musical’s off for Christmas? I’ve not had Christmas off since I got into the business!”

“Well, after a couple of Christmases away from home,” Shank said with a grin. Calhoun laughed. “No one should work on Christmas. We just want the whole crew home with their families.”

“Well, thank you,” he nodded and handed Calhoun a green envelope. “This is from a man named Spamley. I seem to remember he was in your unit during the war.”

“Oh, Spamley!” Shank said with a smart nod. “Good guy. Not much to look at, but he was really funny.”

“Yeah, well, this is a letter about two people he’d like us to meet,” Calhoun pored over the paper. “Yesss and Felix. They’ll be performing at this hotel tonight, after we get back from our show.”

“Oh,” Shank leaned in. “Well, we should go see them. For old time’s sake, you know?”

“I don’t know, I’m sure we’ll be tired after tonight’s performance.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. The old shoulder’s acting up again,” she said, nodding to Knowsmore as he made his exit. Calhoun rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway. “I never should’ve let you save my life. You’ll never let me forget it!”

Hours later, in a smaller, less elegant room, the hotel performers prepared for their act. A side table had been cleared of its centerpiece as a fetching young woman ironed a blue dress, a feathery boa draped over the bed beside her. Her partner, in a sharp suit to match, was brushing his hair with a golden comb in the mirror across the room.

“Are you ready, Yesss?” He set the comb back into a tiny suitcase, clipping it closed. She nodded, replacing the table’s decorative fabric and flower pot, and tossing the boa around her shoulders. The blue feathers drifted down to settle over her pale shoulders. “Absolutely. I heard that Calhoun and Shank might be in the audience tonight!”

“No,” Felix gasped excitedly. She whirled, zipping up her dress, and held a hand out playfully to him. “Why, Miss Shank, you’re looking excellent tonight.”

“I don’t believe we’ve met, Miss Calhoun,” he said with an excited smile. They both burst out in giggles, laughing until a voice in the hall yelled, “Curtain goes up in ten!”

Yesss grabbed two fluffy fans from the vanity, and they made their way into the hall, but were stopped on their way to the stage. A pudgy, aging man with thinning blonde hair held a hand out into the doorway. “Hang on a minute.”

On the other side of the hotel dining area, the guests of honor were escorted to the best table in the house. Calhoun tossed her coat around the back of a chair, and Shank settled into the spot opposite. “Well, isn’t this cozy!”

“A bit overcrowded,” Calhoun muttered, but gazed up at the red curtained stage as the band began to play. The starry-eyed performers began to sing pleasantly, dropping their feathery fans to reveal matching blue eyes. “Mister,” Yesss began. Felix continued, “sister!”

“Ah,” Shank marvelled, and even Calhoun was taken aback. “They’re quite melodic.”

“Caring, sharing,” Felix sang, and Yesss finished, “Up to the things that we’re wearing!”

“In all kinds of weather.”

“We stick together.”

“The same in the rain or sun!” They sang together. “We think and we act as one.”

Those who’ve,” the siblings leaned against each other as their duet came to an end. “Seen us.”

“Know that not a thing could come between us!”

“We ought to invite them over,” Calhoun suggested. “I think you were right, for once in your life. This was a real treat.”

“Wasn’t it?” Shank asked excitedly, calling a waiter over. She gestured toward the stage. “Would you mind asking those two lovely faces to join us for a drink?”

“Of course, ma’am,” he scurried off. Shank gazed up at the woman in the elegant dress, leaning on her hand absently. Calhoun shook her head. “You can’t tell me you’re in love again.”

“She’s got such a good voice, Tammy,” she murmured, watching the starlet and her brother disappear behind the red velvet curtain. Shank looked up just in time to see Calhoun’s interested gaze watching the male performer leave. “Don’t tell me! You’ve got a bite from the love bug.”

“Mod, no,” she shook it off. “Just a good song, and that’s it.”

“Sure,” Shank grinned, and slipped off her coat, artfully slipping the fabric around the chair’s back. The performing siblings joined them a minute later, pulling the empty chairs out to settle into. Felix shook Calhoun’s hand. “It’s very nice to meet you both!”

“Likewise,” Shank replied as Yesss kissed her hand. “You two are bound to hit it big singing like that.”

“Oh, thanks,” Yesss smoothed her skirt, and glanced across the table at her brother. He was watching Calhoun from the corner of his eye. The band began to play a slow, romantic song, and Shank glanced toward the shining dance floor, where couples were gathering to twirl. “Care to dance?”

“I’d love to,” Yesss murmured, and took her outstretched hand. They moved toward the floor, and Yesss led them as they waltzed among strangers. “You know, I’ve never met a celebrity before.”

“With that voice of yours, I think you’ll be one soon.”

Yesss laughed and twirled her. “You know, they say the best things happen while you’re dancing.”

At the table, Felix and Calhoun sipped drinks together. Felix had elected for something sugary with cherries in the ice cubes, while Calhoun was swirling a glass of something heavier. Felix shook his head. “Spamley’s been away for quite a while. He’s been working in some Vermont lodge. He and his friend Gord do the housekeeping.”

“Good to know he’s well,” she murmured, gazing across the room absently. “Well, ah, tell me a little about you and your sister. What’s your angle?”

“Angle?” He asked, tilting his head. “We just sing and write. We don’t really have an angle, I don’t think.”

“Don’t kid yourself. Everybody in show business has an angle,” she looked him over. “What’re you singing for? Money? Girls?”

“What do you mean? We just sing,” he asked. “Are you accusing us of just being in this for the money?”

“No, that’s- that’s not what I mean at all!”

Across the room, Yesss and Shank twirled out the door, onto the seaside seating area. The boardwalk beneath their toes clicked and creaked, but they turned the starry twilight into a beautiful Broadway scene as they sang and danced with quickly established harmony.

“The best things happen while you’re dancing,” Yesss spun Shank out on her arm, where she threw out her skirt with grace and circled back into Yesss’s chest. “Dancing soon becomes romancing.”

“Only when you hold a girl in your arms that you’ve never held before,” Yesss leaned in close and then threw her arm out again, and they chased one another down the shoreline. They mirrored one another as they tapped their feet, swung their skirts, swayed their hips. “Even girls with two left feet come out alright if their gal is sweet.”

“If by chance their cheeks should meet while dancing,” Shank finished, and swung Yesss into her chest for a moment, breathlessly, and smiled. “It’s been very nice to meet you.”

“You too,” she sighed with a small, pleasant smile. “You too.”

Later, a disgruntled Calhoun and glowing Shank led the siblings back to their room. The balding blonde man stopped the group in the hall. “Remember, you two, you owe me money for that rug you burnt!”

He hurried off, but Calhoun shook her head at his fleeing back. “Not that old burnt rug routine.”

“We didn’t even have a rug in our room,” Felix murmured. “He says he’s going to have the cops in after us if we don’t pay him back for it.”

“No he won’t,” Yesss shook her head vigorously. “We need to get out of here before morning. We can snooze at the station, our train comes early enough.”

“Absolutely not!” Shank crossed her arms determinedly. “I have a little something in my suitcase. A gift! You can get on an earlier train.”

“Oh, thank you,” Felix piped up happily. Yesss nodded. “Thank you so much!”

Calhoun quizzically glanced at her partner, but just headed on back to their room. She kicked off her shoes while Shank rushed a paper from the top of her suitcase back down the hall. Calhoun was asleep by the time she returned.

[everymovie2020]

Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again (2018)

Date watched:  3 August 2018

Yeah, so… embarrassingly I cried all the way through this, so… good thing I saw it by myself in a mostly empty movie theatre, that's for sure!

I don't even really know how to review this because I was always going to love it. It is a musical filled with ABBA, what's not to like?  Well I guess if you don't like ABBA you could probably find a few things.

Dave Grohl gets it.

The basic plot (a lady I work with said there is no plot but I assure you, there's a plot) is that in 2018 Sophie (Amanda Seyfried) has finally turned the dilapidated villa into a luxury hotel in honour of Donna (Meryl Streep), who passed away the previous year though we're not told how.  Sam (Pierce Brosnan) is still living in a cottage on the island and I guess playing full time dad to Sophie; Harry (Colin Firth) is away on business in Tokyo and Bill (Stellan Skarsgard) is attending an awards show. So they can't come to the big opening.

But Tanya and Rosie (Christine Baranski and Julie Walters) are able to attend, and any time Donna is mentioned Rosie starts crying which had the inadvertent effect of making ME cry, so that was great.

Then we flash back to the 70s, and here is where I complain about the timeline.

This is how it goes in the movie:

1979 – Donna meets the boys and falls pregnant

2008 – first movie happens

2018 – second movie happens 10 years after the first movie

But Sophie is only TWENTY in the first movie.

IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE.

I am trying not to let the janky timeline bother me but IT DOES.

This is how it SHOULD go:

1969 – Donna meets the boys and falls pregnant

1989 – first movie is set

1999 – second movie is set

Why? I will tell you why.  The first movie clearly shows them all as hippies, and that was in the late 60s, not the late 70s.  The late 70s were disco.  Also, the song Our Last Summer, sung by Colin Firth in the original movie, is about the Summer of Love, which was in the SIXTIES.

So it should be the sixties, then first movie late 80s, second movie late 90s.

IT BOTHERS ME ON A FUNDAMENTAL LEVEL.

This is literally my only complaint about both movies – the timeline is SO GODDAMN WRONG. IT'S ANNOYING.

Anyway!

In 1979 Donna (Lily James) takes off on her own on an adventure because she is fearless and strong and seriously such a FUCKING DELIGHT.  I have never enjoyed Lily James until this movie but I am fucking SOLD NOW.  SHE IS SO GOOD.

So she meets Harry in Paris and they bang, then she takes off for Greece where she first encounters Bill (but they don't bang then).  Then she meets Sam on the island and they fall in love after only a week; there's a fantastic scene of her singing The Name of the Game and being chased by a goat; then she discovers that Sam has a fiancée back in America.  And she's mad, and he takes off, and that's when BILL comes back into the picture.  And young Bill is SERIOUSLY HOT.

Here's the thing that made me sad, though –as is established in the first movie, Rosie and Bill eventually get together.  In the sequel, they showed Rosie seeing/meeting him for the first time and she falls in love at first sight but steps aside for Donna.

And it just broke my heart a little bit.  I'd thought the first time she'd ever seen Bill was in the first movie, but it turns out she fell in love with him all those years ago.  Poor Rosie!  Why couldn't Rosie catch the guy? #justiceforrosie

Anyway, we then flash forward the future and a huge storm hits the island basically destroys all of their party preparations, but in the meanwhile both Harry and Bill are making arrangements to get to the island, and – oh I forgot to mention Sky and Sophie are on the outs so he's flying back for the party as well – they pick up Sky and a bunch of happy Greek people and set sail for the island to the tune of Dancing Queen and I FUCKING BAWLED LIKE A BABY.

Seriously, I have tears in my eyes just thinking about it.  Is there something wrong with me?  That's not a sad scene! Thank god I saw it by myself because I just could not have lived with the embarrassment of crying all the way through a SUPER HAPPY MOVIE.

So they all make it to the island, Sky and Sophie reunite, Sophie discovers she's pregnant – in the past Donna discovers she's pregnant as well – they have the party, Cher turns up (how old is she meant to be in this anyway?), she stumbles across Andy Garcia who it turns out is her long lost love Fernando (I like what they did there), so they sing Fernando, and then it flashes forward a year and Sophie has had the baby and then she sings a duet with a ghostly Meryl Streep and I'm not joking when I say that I had tears literally streaming down my cheeks during that entire scene.

Like, FUCK.

You've got two whole movies showing how fucking amazing Donna is, and then she's dead, but Ghost Donna comes back to sing a duet with Sophie and I can't even think about it or listen to the song because I'll be done for again.

So I mean yeah obviously I loved it although… hopefully by the time I do a re-watch I will have toughened up a bit, because jeez.  It tapped into so many emotions that I have and I was just not expecting it.

Favourite song highlights include When I Kissed the Teacher, Andante Andante, The Name of the Game, Angel Eyes, Mamma Mia, Dancing Queen and Super Trouper, and obviously the dead Donna and Sophie duet which I'm not even going to look up the name of lest I start crying at my desk at work.

But like how great was Lily James?  Was not expecting to be so blown away!  I've just never been that impressed but it's like throw her in some flares and some cheesecloth and I'm like IN LOVE or something.

10/10.

[ezilyamuzed]

Heartbreaker

Summary: Jensen and you had long ago been a couple after mutually agreeing that there was something more out there for the both of you. He found what he was looking for while you still searched for yours. Upon accepting a new role in his show Supernatural, you may even find what you were looking for all along, in a familiar face. 

Warnings: Language. Fluff. 

A/N: So honestly I was listening to songs from my teenage years when this popped into my head while trying to write another part to an ongoing series. Listening to Mariah Carey’s Heartbreaker, I could see Jensen being silly with an ex and rapping Jay Z’s lyrics, because come on...that man is multi-talented. I might have an idea for what will happen if this continues but I really want to have a feel from others about their opinions. Some aspects of this have been done a lot by others, but hopefully I can add my own little touch to it to make it unique.

Thank you for taking the time to read whatever the heck this is. Any and all mistakes are my own. Please leave me feedback about what you think!

Opening scene :Mariah Carey’s Heartbreaker featuring Jay Z playing 

The cords of the familiar song began to play as you stood up on stage in front of the crowd, you smiled to your accompaniment. His emerald green eyes shinned to you as recited the words scrolling in front of him before you closed your eyes, allowing the lyrics to flow from your memory.

“Give me your love. Give me your love. Give me your love….” You repeated while he followed along in the duet.

“Ooh your love's so good I don't wanna let go And although I should I can't leave you alone 'Cause you're so disarming I'm caught up in the midst Of you and I can not resist at all

Boy if I do The things you want me to The way I used to do Would you love me baby Or leave me feelin' blue Would you go and break my heart?

Heartbreaker you've got the best of me But I just keep on coming back incessantly Oh why did you have to run your game on me? I should have known right from the start You'd go and break my heart” you sang with a sway in your hips while continuing to the repeat the chorus “Give me your love. Give me your love…”

The smile on your face grew wider as he winked at you while you continued reciting the lines from your past. In your best Mariah Carey impression you continued on with the words, feeling all the emotion that resided in you in them.

“It's a shame to be So euphoric and weak When you smile at me And you tell me the things That you know are stated To relinquish my love to you But I can not resist at all

Boy if I do The things you want me to The way I used to do Would you love me baby Or leave me feelin' blue Would you go and break my heart?

Heartbreaker you've got the best of me But I just keep on coming back incessently Oh why did you have to run your game on me? I should have known right from the start You'd go and break my heart”

He stepped up closer to you while you sang in preparation to his part coming, making you laugh as he put his whole body into it while flawlessly rapping the lines. You watched him lovingly move his arms around to the beat, while you waited for your cue.”

“OK. Cool. Aight. Yo. She wanna shop wit Jay Play box wit Jay She wanna pillowfight in the middle of the night She wanna drive my Benz with five of her friends She wanna creep past the block, spyin' again She wanna roll wit Jay, chase skeeos away She wanna fight wit lame chicks, blow my day She wanna respect the rest, kick me to the curb If she find one strand a hair longer than hers She want Make love in the Jacuzzi Rub up in the movies Access to the old crib, Keys to da newbie She wanna Answer the phone Tattoo her arm Last one I got her Sent it back to her mom She call me heartbreaker When we apart it makes her Wanna piece of paper, Scribble down 'I hate ya' But she know she love Jay because She love everything Jay say, Jay does, and a...”

“Heartbreaker you've got the best of me But I just keep on coming back incessently Oh why did you have to run your game on me? I should have known right from the start You'd go and break my heart

Heartbreaker you've got the best of me But I just keep on coming back incessantly Oh why did you have to run your game on me? I should have known right from the start You'd go and break my heart.

Give me your love. Give me your love. Give me your love.”

The smile on your face was wide as your threw your arms around his neck while the on looking crowd roared in praise to your performance. He gave you a little kiss on the cheek before placing his hand on the small of your back to lead you off the stage and back to your other companions. 

“Amazing job as always Y/N,” Jared smiled while wrapping his long arms around you in an embrace. “You weren’t too bad there either Jay.”

You looked to your side where he stood, reaching for his beer on the table with a smirk on both of your faces. You had laughed at him when he suggested that you sang “your song”, knowing very well that the past that you two had shared was nothing but a distant memory that you once shared, that seemed like another lifetime ago. In reality though, it was only 19 years since you had met Jensen on set of ‘Days of Our Lives’. Both of your fresh faced and thrown into the crazy world of daytime television found comfort in each other. You started out at friends but slowly became more until you mutually realized that there was more waiting for you both out there. Your friendship never faltered through the years though. Whenever possible, the two of you still found time to catch up with each other’s busy lives, almost always feeling so natural like you had just seen him yesterday. 

As Jared dropped his arms off of you to give Jensen a hug you sat down at the crowded table amongst the people you have come to welcome into your life as extended family members. This was always the highlight of your year, when you could just be your silly self with them, because they themselves were an odd bunch.

“You know Y/N, if I didn’t love you so much I would think that you were flirting with my husband up there,” Danneel laughed while pulling Jensen down to sit next to her. 

You rolled your eyes while letting out a full body laugh. “No Danneel, he is definitely all yours!”

He shot you a look with a fake scowl like he was hurt by your words. “What’s wrong with flirting with me?”

“Besides the headaches…”

“The drama,” Gen chimed in.

“And the childlike behavior,” Danneel added.

“Nothing,” you smiled while gesturing your beer to him in a toast.

“Don’t try and change their minds Ackles,” Jared snorted. “These girls know us better than we do ourselves.”

“Damn straight we do,” Gen exclaimed while pulling Jared down to meet his lips with hers. 

You watched them all in admiration. They were all really the perfect couples that they portrayed to the media. Secretly you were jealous of them all, knowing that it’s a rare find to come across someone that compliments you in every way possible. Sure you had relationships, but they were mostly publicity stunts arranged by your manager and theirs. Behind closed doors more often than not, you two were strangers which left your feeling perpetually alone in the world.  

“So Y/N, what was the news that brought you down to our neck of the woods from L.A.?” Jensen inquired while wrapping his arm around Danneel.

“What I can’t just come and see my favorite person?” you laughed innocently.

“Well I am flattered but…” he started to reply but you cut him off short.

“Who said I was talking about you? I’m here to see Padalecki over here,” you said while nudging Jared’s arm. “He has to explain how the hell he has been able to work with you for so many years, since, well… a role has recently come up that I may or may not have been offered.”

Everyone’s mouths dropped but quickly formed into large grins as they processed what you had said.

“Are you serious?” Jared and Jenson blurted in unison.

“Apparently the producers thought the Winchester’s needed another wayward girl coming into their lives,” you smiled while taking a sip of your beer.

They all started flooding you with questions like who was the character? What was her story? How would she fit in to the Winchester brothers lives? You could only shrug in response, because the details had yet to be disclosed to you. The audition had fallen into your lap after recently finishing your last project. Seeing who it was from you jumped at the chance. Not only did it mean that you could work alongside of one of your best friends, but you got to be a part of the story that you had fallen in love with for the last 13 years.

“Honestly, even if they kill me 10 minutes in I will be the happiest fan girl alive,” you smiled before adding, “As long as it’s a Winchester that kills me.”

“OOO, maybe they are bringing in a love interest for one of the boys?” Gen squealed in excitement.

“Well then I am definitely dead after one episode,” you snorted.

“Oh come on, they don’t kill off all of them that soon.” Jensen huffed in defense.

“So which boy would it be?” Danneel leaned in closer with her eyes widening in suspense. “Brooding Dean or Sympathetic Sammy?”

“How could a girl choose between those two?” you laughed again while glancing between Jared and Jensen’s smiles. “They are both almost the perfect package, but if you throw them together then you have the best of both worlds. The Winchester package.”

The five of you laughed while talking about everything and anything all into the late night until it was finally last call. Closing time, where you had to say your goodbyes once again while smiling to yourself knowing that you would see them all again soon.

“I’m getting a ride back with Jared and Gen,” Danneel spoke up as she scrolled through her phone. “The babysitter is going into overtime so I have to get the kids. Jensen you take Y/N back to her hotel okay?”

“Alright,” he said while giving her a quick kiss on the lips. “See ya soon sweetie.”

The two of you walked over to the black SUV that was definitely all Danneel’s. Hair ties on the gear shift, various toys from the mini Ackles Clan thrown all around, and the distinct smell of her designer perfume that lingered on the seats. You sat your head back on the seat as he started up the engine, thinking about how once upon a time this life could have been yours.

“What you thinking about there kid?” Jensen asked while pulling out of the parking spot.

“How I’m going to protect myself from Jared and yours pranks on set,” you smirked.

“You have nothing to worry about from me, I know you can kick my ass,” he sniggered. “Jared though might need reminding of that though.”

“I’m ready for it,” you responded confidently.

“So honestly here, what made you decide to come on to the show? I’ve been asking you longer than I had Danneel, and she just finally gave in last season.”

“I’m not busy with anything at the moment,” you shrugged. “It’s not like I have an incredible pilot falling into my lap right now, plus after the last stint with that Aussie actor, I could use a break from L.A. and join my best friend in Vancouver.”

“He’s a good actor, but man was he a douchebag.”

“I think that is the nicest thing you have ever said about one of my ex boyfriends there Ackles,” you skeptically commented.

“Well I do have to make sure my Y/N is in good hands.”

“And whose hands would that be?” you inquired while raising your eyebrow.

“No one I’ve ever met,” he answered with seriousness in his voice while concentrating on the road.

“The perfect guy for me is probably just a fictional character that someone plays on TV, movies or something. Most likely one who is broken beyond repair that needs saved,” you laughed

“Like Dean?” he asked while wagging his eyebrows to you.

“If Dean Winchester was ever real, then yes he would be the perfect guy. But come on Jay, this is the real world. No one is that perfectly broken for me.”

Dean Winchester, the concept of a man that you had admired as Jensen brought his words and actions to life all these years. Although it was definitely Jensen’s face on the screen, which honestly you would never complain about after all of these years, Dean was from another world that he selflessly protected with his life. If only fictional characters were real, than you could have the best of both worlds. Dean Winchester, the perfect man.

Okay ya’ll give me all the criticism you got!

Tag: @curly-haired-disaster @snffbeebee @dean-winchesters-bacon @julesthequirky @waywardbaby @waywardnerd67 @bobasheebaby @ain-t-bovvered @imafictosexual @imma-winchester-addict @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @theworldiscolorful @bobasheebaby @anotherwaywardsister @midnightsilver @time-travel-bouqet @ladywinchester1967 @missjenniferb @myinconnelly1

[lamptracker]

‘I think i wanna marry you’ - Headcanon extravaganza

FIC: ‘I think i wanna marry you’

Summary: Five boys (Tom Holland, Harrison Osterfield, Harry Holland, Sam Holland, and Jacob Batalon) and the moment they knew they wanted to marry you.

It’s like five headcanons in one, y’all!

Tom

So Tom knew he wanted to marry you about two months after you moved in together

He’d just come home from a meeting with his agent

It was mid-afternoon but he was a little tired, for some reason

(Meetings are dull, so he always needs a nap after, the poor tired boy)

He heard music coming from the bedroom, not an unusual occurrence

The door was open and there you were, folding laundry, with your 90s playlist going

Now playing: “Ice Ice Baby” by Vanilla Ice

Super-cheesy 90s rap song

But you knew every word and were rapping along expertly

“Dance, go rush the speaker that booms, I’m killing your brain like a poisonous mushroom/Deadly when I play a dope melody, anything less than the best is a felony”

He just stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, smiling like an idiot at his girl dancing around and rapping

He thought you looked so cute

“The girlies on standby, waving just to say - Oh, hey, Tom.”

(This was the part when Tom expected you to behave like a normal girl - turn beet red, quickly switch off the phone, and giggle shyly)

But not you

You flashed him the cheekiest grin you could muster

“You need to spit this next verse with me, Holland, don’t pretend you don’t know the words”

He just shrugged and said, “Alright”

“Girls were hot wearing less than bikinis, Rockman lovers driving Lamborghinis/Jealous ‘cause I’m out getting mine, Shay with a gauge and Vanilla with a nine”

But he did help you fold

The song faded out and into another cheesy 90s tune

“Truly Madly Deeply” by Savage Garden

You dropped the towel you were folding and grasped his hand

“Come on, baby, dance with me”

You wrapped your arms around his neck as his went around your waist

And that was when he knew

This girl was not afraid to not only rap along to goofy early-90s hip-hop, she encouraged him to join

And immediately stop what she was doing to enjoy a slow dance in the middle of the bedroom with him

He knew he had something special in you and he decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you

Harrison

Harrison knew the morning after he stayed at your place for the first time

You’d stayed at his too many times to count, but he’d not been to yours yet

(And yes, you had discussed moving in together, but you had three months left before you could get out of your lease without having to pay extra)

Anyway

He woke up to a too-empty bed

In his still-sleepy haze he briefly wondered if you’d left

No, Harrison, you div. This is her apartment, where would she go?

The smell of freshly-brewed coffee suddenly hit his nostrils

He smiled to himself as he wandered into your kitchen

You were at the stove, cooking French toast and humming softly to yourself

You had on a pair of pink sleep shorts and the hoodie he’d worn the night before

“Oh, hey, babe. I’m just making us a little breakfast. There’s coffee ready if you want it”

You smiled at him and his entire morning immediately got, just, ten times brighter

Harrison poured a cup of coffee and set it on the table to cool for a minute before drinking

He wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder while you flipped the bread

“G’mornin’, love” he whispered in your ear

You kissed his forehead - “Hi, Harrison. I was going to make bacon too but I’m out, apparently”

“It’s okay, babe, don’t worry about it - do you have a cup of coffee yet?”

“No, but I could really use some. I was up half the night, wonder why”

And you winked at him as he burst into laughter

Harrison poured you a cup of coffee and set it on the table while you plated the French toast and got out syrup

The two of you ate breakfast together in comfortable silence

Harrison loved that you didn’t even have to say anything, he just relished being in the same room as you

Somewhere during his second piece of French toast he realized he could get used to this

And he wouldn’t mind doing it every day for the rest of his life

Harry

Now, everybody thinks this will involve taking pictures or filming or something

But nah

Harry was having a bad day

He couldn’t figure out why, but everything was just...off for some reason

He’d had a photo shoot that day but the pictures just weren’t turning out

And then somehow the memory card got wiped

He got cut off in line at the tea shop

He spilled his tea all over his shirt

And a series of texts from Sam (who was still in France) made him miss his twin even more

So, he sighed heavily as he entered your apartment

He kicked off his shoes, walked into the bedroom, changed out of his tea-stained shirt and into a clean one, and collapsed face-first onto the bed next to you

(You were catching up on some homework)

“Oh, hey, Harry”

He just kind of waved a little as he mumbled incoherently into the pillow

“What’s...oh, no. Did you have a rough day?”

“Yeah” came his muffled reply

You immediately closed your laptop and set it on your nightstand and started to softly rub his back

“Well, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I’ll listen if you do, okay?”

Harry sat up, wrapped his arms around you, and buried his head into the crook of your neck

He suddenly and inexplicably started to cry

(He might have been embarrassed but he was honestly too upset to care)

You didn’t laugh at him or anything

You just held him as he sobbed into your shoulder, fingers carding through his curly red hair soothingly

“It’s just… I was shooting some still life photos today, and they all turned out horribly. Then I wiped my card on accident. Someone cut me in line at the tea place, then I spilled my tea all over myself and then Sam was texting me...I just, I miss him so much and I didn’t even get to drink my tea and I…”

“Ssh, baby, it’s okay. I’m here, I’ve got you, alright?”

You kissed his forehead gently as he let out all of his frustrations

Once the sobbing had subsided he looked up at you

You were smiling at him

“Feel better?”

“A little, yeah,” he nodded

You leaned over and kissed the tears off of his cheeks, gently rubbing the spots afterwards with the pads of your thumbs

“Come on into the kitchen, Harry, I’ll make you some tea, okay?

“That sounds lovely. You know how I like it, right?”

“Of course. 1/16th tea, the rest milk”

Harry snorted as he followed you into the kitchen

“I don’t put that much milk in there, do I?”

“You don’t put that much tea in there, either” you retorted, giving him a quick peck on the star-shaped birthmark just above his upper lip

And he just laughed as you got the kettle ready, the stresses of the day already forgotten

He realized then and there that he didn’t want anyone else to snap him out of a bad mood ever again

Sam

If you think Sam’s involves a piano...well, you’d be right

BUT

He’s not the one playing it

(At least, not at first)

You were out doing some shopping with him and his mom

“Let’s stop in here,” Sam said to the two of you

“Here” is a piano store he likes to frequent

You and Nikki just smiled and shrugged as the three of you walked inside

As Sam browsed the new sheet music, you and Nikki found a grand piano

“Oh, do you play?” Nikki asked you

“I took lessons when I was a kid,” you replied, “but I haven’t played in awhile, though”

Sam overheard and laughed quietly to himself

You sat down at the piano - “Let me see if I can remember anything”

Soon you were plunking out a tune

He recognized it right away - “Truce” by Twenty One Pilots

And he was absolutely mesmerized by your playing

“Haven’t played in awhile, my left arse cheek,” he mumbled to himself. “She’s brilliant”

Sure enough, you played the whole song flawlessly

After you were finished, Sam started to clap

“Beautifully done, darling. Fancy a duet?”

You just laughed and said, “if you say ‘Heart and Soul’ I will stab you in the jaw, Holland”

It was Sam’s turn to laugh then

“No, I’d never put you through that. Do you know ‘All I Ask of You’ from Phantom of the Opera?”

“Uh, that’s only my favorite song to play”

So the two of you played the song together

Sam occasionally looked up from the keys to look at your face, brow furrowed in concentration and lower lip between your teeth

You looked so beautiful

When the song was finished, Nikki was nearly in tears

“You two make such a lovely pair,” she said

“Yeah, we do,” you replied, smiling at him warmly

Sam knew he’d found the perfect duet partner

(And not just for piano, either)

Jacob

Okay, so Jacob’s personal benchmark for a successful relationship is this:

How does she treat my nieces?

He dated a few girls who generally ignored their presence

(nope)

One girl he dated viewed them as annoyances

(NOPE)

One girl, Leslie, claimed to love them (good) and treated them nicely (better) but then he overheard her telling a friend how irritating they were (NOPE NOPE NOPE RED FLAG ABORT MISSION)

But then you came along

He brought you home to Hawaii to meet them

You fell in love with them instantly

You kept them entertained while Jacob caught up with his sister and mom

(honestly, no other girl had volunteered to do that before)

You took them to the park and out for ice cream

When you got back to the house, you all had a Paw Patrol marathon and at one point found yourself in a discussion with his oldest niece about who was better, Chase or Marshall

(You said Marshall, but she was firmly in the Chase camp and not budging)

Jacob came into the living room to find you and his nieces curled up together on the couch, sleeping

His heart started to melt a little bit, but he was still wary

(After the whole Leslie incident)

On the way back to the hotel, completely out of the blue, you said: “Oh, Jacob, I just love your nieces. We had the best time today, they’re super-cool kids”

“Really? You really mean that?”

“Of course. Why would I lie about something like that?”

“Well, it’s just-”

“Yeah, Leslie, I know. But she’s a jerk. And I like to think that I am not a jerk who does, in fact, really dig your nieces”

“That’s a good thing, because I really dig you”

“Oh, Jacob, you’re such a big softy”

“Afraid so”

As he watched you with his nieces that week, he couldn’t help but wonder what you’d be like with his own children, your children

And he wanted nothing more than to find out

[shankarjaikishanfansassnintl]

Three Cheers for the Timeless Thrill of ‘Teesri Manzil’!  Remembering RDB

by

Subramanium Viswanathan

Remembering RDB on his birthday ... and reposting my ‘matinee experience’, which made me sit up, and take notice of him!

Three Cheers for the Timeless Thrill of ‘Teesri Manzil’!

1971. SIES College of Arts & Science, Sion, Mumbai.

I had just stepped out of S.I.E.S High School and entered the S.I.E.S College as a First Year Science student. I was pleasantly surprised at the new-found privileges of being a college student, which included the freedom of ‘cutting classes’ (something unthinkable at school), whenever one just was not in a mood to attend the lectures, or whenever there was some ‘unavoidable circumstance’, such as having to attend the matinee show at the near-by theatre.

Rupam at Sion Circle (now PVR Multiplex or something) was strategically located near the college. The theatre was just a stone’s throw away from the college, but the students preferred to throw themselves at the spot, more often than into class-rooms.

Now before you all get my credentials wrong, let me declare that I was not the irresponsible undisciplined ‘tapori’ type of teen-ager that you would imagine. I was a shy, sincere, serious, studious and spectacled student that time. Bunking classes for a matinee show was not in my nature at all. But there are moments in a teenager’s life, when one succumbs to peer pressure. I had a few close friends who apparently had seen ‘Teesri Manzil’ before, and they all strongly felt that ‘TM’ was a better way of spending the afternoon, than attending the Physics and Zoology lectures. After all, Newton’s Laws are not going anywhere, they will remain to trouble you throughout the year till the exams. But ‘Teesri Manzil’ may disappear from Rupam by next week. Also the Zoology lecture was all about the slimy Amoeba, which luckily one can draw in any shape and get away with passing marks. So my friends rationalize with me. Also, since I had not seen the film before, they take upon themselves the responsibility of dragging me along. I start to roll my tongue to say, ‘No, but …’, but it’s too late.

So at 11.15 am we are already inside the AC comfort of Rupam, after a great deal of pushing and pulling at the ticket counter. There is chaos all around. It appears as if the entire college is inside the auditorium. Noisy banter, loud laughter, whistling etc. The commercials are on. Nobody is paying a damn heed to the ads. I think, why can’t these guys maintain some discipline and sit down quietly. Soon a documentary of Film Divisions on Rural Development starts. One student gets impatient and shouts towards the man at the projector, ‘Arre! Main Picture chalu karo re!’. Another gentleman from the matured uncles’ minority in the audience sounds an admonishing ‘Shhh!’ to the errant student, but poor uncle is instantly greeted back with hoots and ridicule. As Rural Development makes its painful way towards the conclusion, the catcalls grow louder. At last Film Divisions prove their point that Sanitation and Sewage System have indeed improved in some remote village of U.P.

Suddenly there is a hush as the Censors’ certificate of the main film is displayed. Somebody reads aloud the number of reels for the benefit of the short-sighted among us. Then the real show starts with a bang, a big banner of NH (Nasir Hussain) films and a thundering Urdu couplet. The audience screams for no apparent reason. I wonder, what is there to scream about an Urdu couplet that they don’t understand.

As the banner fades out, ‘Teesri Manzil’ explodes right on the face! Right from the first frame, this guy called Rahul Dev Burman who seemed to be hiding behind the screen for the attack, suddenly unleashes his deadly instruments on you! On the screen, a car is chasing another along the hill-ways on a rainy night. Two short violin pieces play continuously in quick succession exactly simulating the pace and tension of the situation. The credits roll on. The lady driving the first car gets down and runs towards a building. You can see from the glass pane outside, her silhouette rushing up the stairs followed by another shadow of a man close on heels. 1st floor, 2nd floor and further up—and then she desperately knocks at a door, ‘Rocky, Darwaza kholo!, Rocky, Darwaza kholo!’, as the shadow of the man is fast closing in on her. The back-ground music turns ominous and suddenly stops for a second, as the shrieking woman is bodily lifted and thrown by her predator from the ‘Teesri Manzil’!

RDB announces the bloody event with a loud trumpet, pauses a bit, then crashes his cymbals and goes at his drums with a beat that is sort of a cross between ‘Pink Panther’ theme and the 007 title track, but with lots of more punch. The camera swirls around the shocked faces including Shammi Kapoor’s, collected around the gravitated lady’s corpse. RDB’s beats raise the tempo culminating with the last credit-slide –‘Directed by Vijay Anand’. By now the audience is univocally vociferous giving out, not those hoots reserved for ‘Films Division’, but shrill shrieks of excitement and anticipation of more thrills!

‘Teesri Manzil’ was all thrills, not just because it was a murder mystery, but also because it was a musical wonder. Apparently unlike me, most of the audience were seeing the film for umpteenth time, as they knew exactly when to scream at RDB’s notes! I think, RDB would have jumped like a hungry tiger at the offer made by Nasir Hussain, who also knew his music fundas well, right from the time of ‘Tumsa nahin dekha’(OPN) and ‘Jab pyar kisise hota hai’(S-J) days! So for the cynics like me who had always wanted Shankar-Jaikishen for a Shammi Kappor movie (that included Shammi Kapoor himself), RDB silenced everybody’s ‘bolti’ with the opening orchestral blast!

It was not that ‘TM’ was an out-and-out RDB show. Apart from music, it had great style! Vijay Anand’s narration of a crime caper was slick and imaginative with loads of thrills and fun too! After the credits, you find Shammi Kapoor on the top berth of a compartment with Asha Parekh sitting below and one pot-bellied man (Ram Avtar?) sitting opposite to her. Shammi makes monkey-faces at the fatso and forces him to break into uncontrollable peals of laughter which invites Asha Parkh’s wrath and she starts bashing the poor ‘mota’!

Asha is on the track of one ‘Rocky’, a band-player to avenge the death of her sister. She traces him to the hotel where Rocky plays his band daily. Shammi Kapoor (Rocky) who is also trying to get to the bottom of ‘Third Floor Throw-out’ puzzle hood-winks Asha about his real identity. He says he is substituting on the drums for ‘Rocky’ who is on leave. Asha pouts contemptuously that she had come to hear Rocky’s drums and she had to listen to this non-entity. Shammi takes on the challenge. So does RDB, and throws at you ‘O haseena zulfonwali …’.

Now the shrieking session has revived! Shammi thrashes the drums, Helen swoops down a curved ramp and the collegians cry hoarse almost deafening the voices of Rafi and Asha Bhosle! Then Shammi and Helen sizzle on the floor to Majrooh Sultanpuri’s rapid repartee:

‘Garm hai, tez hai, yeh nigaahen meri

Kaam aa jaayengi sard aahen meri

Hey, Tum kisi raah-mein phir miloge kahin,

Arre, Ishq hoon, Main kahin teherta hi nahin!

Main bhi hoon galiyon-ki parchhai, Kabhi yahan Kabhi wahaan …’

Then RDB’s violins take you to high pitch and tug at you three times before dropping!

The steps and movements are wild, yet so gracefully executed, a far cry from some of today’s crude ‘item numbers’! Shammi tinkers with a glass and then blows a saxophone. Guitars and violins pump adrenalin into the auditorium. Now I am beginning to enjoy all this ‘shor’ around me! I don’t know what one calls it –Rock, Pop or Jazz, but ‘Jo bhi hai, khuda-ki kasam lajawaab hai’! I find myself rocking involuntarily on my seat to the RDB beats. Then I tell myself ‘Sit straight properly, like you were told at school’.

As the song ends, I compose myself and sit straight. But there is no respite. The second song starts soon. For prelude, RDB plays a crazy guitar piece that does somersaults repeatedly three or four times and hands over the mike to Rafi and Asha Bhosle. This time it is Shammi wooing Asha Parekh with ‘Aa jaa aa jaa, main hoon pyar tera …’, feverishly shaking his head and repeating ‘Ah-ha aa jaa’ eight times for emphasis. Parekh in pink swirls around Shammi giving him the slip and ‘pehnao’-ing him the ‘topi’. Shammi dances with ruffled hair and goes berserk gesticulating in eight different ways for each ‘aa jaa’ while Asha swings fluttering her eyelashes. All that frenetic head-shaking and hip-swinging on screen with trumpets blowing and drums beating, drive the public to delirious frenzy. I suppress my own urge to scream. Aakhir, discipline bhi koi cheez hai!

Agatha Christie’s whodunits could grip you, but you don’t read the same novel repeatedly. Alfred Hitchcock was a master of suspense who packed in some of the most bizarre situations in his script, some of them exciting and funny at the same time (Remember ‘North by North-West’ in which Cary Grant is left alone to drive on a treacherous hilly road after being forced to gulp a full bottle of Bourbon by a bunch of goons!). Nobody can beat Hitchcock when it comes to an intriguing plot, but Hitchcock Saab-ke filmon-mein aisa music kahan hota hai (if you don’t count ‘Que Sera Sera’ in ‘The Man Who Knew Too Much’)? Here our own Vijay Anand mixes all the ingredients like suspense, music, romance and comedy in the right proportions like an expert ‘bhel-puri-wala’ from Juhu and gives on the platter ekdum ‘paisa-wasool’ entertainment, worth every penny of your hard-extracted pocket-money from Daddy’s hard-earned money.

The first-half is great fun and romance giving RDB the avenue to come up with another two very pleasant numbers, ‘Diwana mujhsa nahin‘, a Rafi solo and ‘O mere sona-re sona-re’, a Rafi-Asha duet in which Asha Parekh concedes to Shammi Kapoor’s ‘patao-ing’. Before you know, it is already ‘Interval’. Now there is commotion at the Samosa stall outside! No Sir, I don’t join the mad scramble for a few samosas! I told you already that I was not the irresponsible undisciplined ‘tapori’ type of teen-ager that you would imagine! I was still a shy, sincere, spectacled student.

I try to take my mind off from the missed Samosas and focus on the second half. The plot thickens now … quite like the thick Tomato Ketchup that goes so well with Samosas! Now a whole lot of suspicious characters are hovering around the screen like Prem Chopra who points a rifle to shoot a distant bird, Iftekhar who leaves a misty cigarette smoke from wherever he spies on other suspects, Premnath (who generally opens his dialogue in most of his films with ‘Bloody Bushhtaard’) urf Rai Bahadur Singh who lives lavishly alone in a Dak Banglow, and K.N.Singh , Rai Saab’s drunken house-keeper. The needle of suspicion keeps swinging.

Who killed the lady? Well, that can wait. Meanwhile let’s have more of RDB. So we have a delightfully crazy ‘Dekhiye Sahibon’ in which Asha lets loose the ‘public’ on Shammi who clings to a ‘Merry-go- Round’ to avoid getting bashed up by a group of Sardars. The song is good fun with great camerawork matching the mood of the music.

It is time to get a bit serious. Helen has a ‘Raaz’ tucked up in her sleeveless. So she gets shot the same way as the ‘broads get the bullets’ in James Hadley Chase novels, before she could divulge the ‘secret’ to Shammi Kapoor. Shammi himself gets exposed as the real ‘Rocky’ making him eligible for titles like’Jhoothe’,’Makhhar’,‘Dhokebaaz’ etc. from Asha Parekh, but not before delivering a superb last song, a solo by Rafi, my most favourite in the film - ‘Tumne mujhe dekha hokar mehrban---Rukh gayi yeh zameen, tham gayaa aasmaan, Jaane man, Jaan-e-Jaan …’. What a song!

'Lekar yeh haseen jalwe, Tum bhi na kahan pahunche

Aakhir to mere dil tak kadmon-ke nishaan pahunche …’

One can as well sing these lines to that fantastic trio of Majrooh-RDB-Rafi for such an exquisite composition!

The stock of songs is sadly over, but RDB still has a fantastic piece in store, when Shammi discovers the identity of the murderer by his host’s coat in which one diamond stud is conspicuously missing. The missing button had been tightly clutched in the fist of the dead woman. Terrific close-ups of a sweaty shocked Shammi’s face when he realizes the truth, are accentuated with a more terrific back-ground score by RDB! Finally after a scuffle, the killer himself drops himself to death from an altitude equivalent to that from which he had thrown the lady in the title-scene. The police arrive dutifully after all action is over. The film ends with a funny note with Shammi and Asha again in a train compartment, this time on honey-moon, encountering the same pot-bellied man who tries to escape from them to avoid trouble!

Vijay Anand’s crisp and creative direction makes the film a gripping entertainer and places it a cut above the rest of typical crime thrillers. But ‘Teesri Manzil’ is more remembered as a musical classic that changed the trend of Hindi film music irreversibly! The film was released way back in 1966. But Rahul Dev Burman was a maverick clearly much ahead of his time. He broke all the rules and raised the tempo of Hindi film music to a feverish pitch several ‘manzil’s higher! Western music never sounded more jazzy and classy in any other Indian film, before or after ‘TM’. So it is no wonder that after five decades, the film and its music still rocks in memories, if not in matinees.

Well, to cut the long story short, we were back in college corridor next day and discussing the ‘TM’ experience. One of them starts, ‘Listen.Today is Thursday’. ‘So?’. ‘So, Today is the last day matinee show of ‘Teesri Manzil’ at Rupam. So why not we …’. I nod my head vehemently, ‘No, No … that’s too much… well … OK, Why not? OK, Sure’. The would-be IIM aspirant amongst us steps forward to manage the immediate crisis, ‘Let’s see what have we today? Oh! Physics Lab? The same silly experiment of moving the convex lens to and fro till you remove parallax. We can skip it. Journal? Not to worry, we can copy from that front-benchwala Bakul Mehta’.

So we are back again at Rupam, throwing all shame to the rains outside! There is chaos all around inside. The same FD documentary is on. One voice shouts ‘Arre! Main Picture chalu karo re!’. I turn towards the voice and am shocked to find that the shouter is none other than Bakul Mehta, the front-benchwala of college! I start fretting and mutter to my friend ‘Just look at that Bakul! What’s he doing here? How irresponsible! He is supposed to be at the Lab this time! Now how the hell are we going to finish our journals?’. My cool friend admonishes me, ‘Let’s worry about all that after the film. Relax. Try to concentrate on the movie. Don’t disturb, Pay attention … This is not Calculus class’.

So I pay attention all over again. The show starts with a bang … the big banner of NH (Nasir Hussain) films and the thundering Urdu couplet. People shriek cheeringly. And to my horror, I find myself whistling and screaming hoarse along with them for no apparent reason!

Now please don’t get my credentials wrong. I was not the irresponsible undisciplined student …. well, may be till I was coerced to see 'Teesri Manzil’ twice in quick succession, during peak college hours!

https://youtu.be/dDtKEtDA8sM

[robrob1127]

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Terry McBride Returns to the Concert Stage With an Impending Album Release

  By Rob Nagy

  Following in the footsteps of his father, country artist Dale McBride, Terry McBride laid the found as one of his genres for enduring songwriters, singers and storytellers. Currently putting the finishing touches on his first full -length album, McBride, 60, hits the road sharing his journey through words and music.

  “I dipped my toe into getting back out on the road last year, I only did a dozen dates, this year we’re going to do about Fifty, says McBride, from his home in Franklin, Tennessee. “That’ something I haven’t done for about 25 years. I was kind of comfortably writing songs and staying behind the scenes of what was going on and I had some publishing people that were trying to encourage me to record something.”

  “I found a couple songs that I liked last year and we created an EP,” adds McBride. “We got some interest from it. So that allowed me to get out and do a few dates, things went well and I got with an agency and have all these cool concert dates coming up this year. I’m just kind of figuring it out as I’m going. I’m enjoying so far.”

  “This next record is the first full blown one that I’ve ever had as a solo artist,” says McBride.  “The thing is that people don’t realize what I’ve done the last 25, 30 years. They know a little bit about my career, but I think that’s the great thing about it. When I get there I love the fact that they’re surprised or pleased, or whatever that feeling is they take away from the show. I’m an open book. I talk about rehab. Not to make light of it, but there’s a lot of funny things that happened to me, I usually put a funny twist on my life in general. It’s been pretty interesting. It’s always been that way. I’ve had a lot of crazy things that have happened to me. I don’t mind sharing any of that or all of it. I don’t hold back, musically as well. I just kind of throw it out there. It’s pretty naked just a guy and his guitar.”

  Surrounded my music, courtesy of his father, during his upbringing near Austin, Texas, McBride laid the foundation for his imminent career in music. Performing alongside his father as a bass player, McBride ultimately landed work with the legendary Delbert McClinton and Brooks and Dunn.

  “I think if you come from humble beginnings it keeps you somewhat grounded, and where you go from there is up to you,” says McBride. “ There’s a lot of comradery in that whole Austin music scene. They’re just good descent people.”

  Relocating from Austin, Texas to Nashville, Tennessee in the 80’s. McBride secured a contract with MCA Records. Forming the band McBride & the Ride, they recorded a number one hit with the song “Sacred Ground” in 1992. Their popularity was fueled with the follow-up hits; “Going Out of My Mind,” “Just One Night,” and “Love on the Loose, Heart on the Run.”

  McBride & the Ride ultimately called it quits within a few years, by now McBride’s songwriting career caught fire.

Brooks & Dunn scored a hit with “I Am That Man” while John Anderson covered “Burnin’ Up the Road” and George Strait recorded “Nobody Has to Get Hurt” and “Always Never the Same.” 

  Dunn enlisted McBride to go out on the road with Brooks & Dunn. McBride co-write 13 of their singles, including the number one hit, “Play Something Country,” and the Brooks & Dunn’s duets with Reba McEntire: “If You See Him/If You See Her” and “Cowgirls Don’t Cry.” 

  “I just love music so much, especially the guys who wrote it,” says McBride.  “My dad had Billboard Magazine and you could go in there and see who wrote the songs, which I found so interesting. You’d find the song you like and then later you find the same name, I started seeing these same guys popping up on the songs that I liked and I held them to such high esteem. The songwriter was every bit as important to me as the guy who was singing the song.”

  “I’ve been fortunate to have a lot of songs done by other artists,” adds McBride. “I share some of the hits and songs that are somewhat interesting during my show. I tell some backstories that pertain to songs and my experiences on the road. The response has been great. Most people come away not knowing I wrote all those songs and they really seem to enjoy what I’m doing. So that’s given me some encouragement that I needed.”

  McBride went back on the road with Brooks & Dunn following a brief McBride & the Ride reunion in 2002. He wrote songs Garth Brooks, Easton Corbin, Josh Gracin, Cole Swindell, Gretchen Wilson, among many others

  After a 15 year hiatus from the spotlight

McBride returned to the concert stage.

He released the Hotels & Highways EP in 2017.

  “I want to really focus on who I am as an artist,” McBride says. “I’ve found those songs where I can really express myself and be me. I wouldn't have though it a year ago but I'm really enjoying being able to get out and perform and sing well and have people enjoy it. There was so much touring early on. I was so fortunate to be playing 200 dates a year, it's mind boggling. it was such a blur. Now I'm taking it at my own pace and it's continuing to ramp up. It’s an exciting time to be in the business.” 

  “I am in a good space,” adds McBride. “For the first time in years I’ve quit trying to chase what’s on radio. I’ve put more of the focus back on me instead of trying to do something for someone else. I still want to have hits. I’m still writing with a lot of cool writers and that sort of thing is still happening. I’ve just gotten to a point in my life, I think, just by growing up and getting older, I just don’t wake up everyday and think, ‘What am I missing out on?”

  “It’s amazing what music can do when it touches somebody, how it just stays with them 25 years later,” says McBride. “It’s impressive. I think it’s why I get to continue to do what I’m doing.”

  Terry McBride performs at the Sellersville Theater located at 24 West Temple Avenue, Sellersville, PA, July 19, 2019 at 8:00 P.M. Tickets can be purchased by calling (215)

257-5808 or online at www.st94.com.

  To stay up to date with Terry McBride visit www.terrymcbridemusic.com

[thehiccunzelnetwork]

Making Harmony

Riley Corona couldn’t believe what her manager had said. “What?!”

   Tina sighed. “Now Riley, I know it sounds odd, but think of it as an opportunity.”

   “I’m a pop singer, he does hip hop.”

   “And?” Tina responded, raising a brow.

   “It’s dirty! Have you heard his most recent song?” Riley grimaced at the mere thought of the offensive lyrics.

   “I’ve heard it. I’ve also heard he was bound by contract to sing it and he wants to change his image. Another reason he wants to perform with you.” Tina defended.

   Riley frowned. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

   “Riley, things aren’t always what they appear to be. Just because he sings what he sings doesn’t mean he means it.” Tina left Riley with that thought and a growing fear of the catastrophe that was bound to happen.

   “Get jazzy on me.” Hiccup finished, silently thanking God it was the last performance of the tour for his latest forced song. “Thank you Arendale, good night!” And with that sentiment, he walked off stage.

   Gabe quickly came up to him. “Gobber, tell me you have good news.”

   “Hiccup, Riley Corona agreed to do the duet with you for the Burgess Music Festival.”

   Hiccup smiled. “Good. Hopefully this will be just the push to get people to see I’m not some sort of pervert.”

   “We can only hope.” Gobber nodded, “Now go back to your hotel, get some sleep.”

   Hiccup complied, his notebook of songs in hand, maybe they’d finally let him sing what he wanted to.

Riley sat in the labels plane, looking over the snow of Burgess, Canada. She’d be landing soon. And then she’d meet the man himself. Hiccup Haddock. She grimaced as his song invaded her ears again, quickly switching the station. She smiled as she heard her friend Merida, or “Red” , sing new song.

   She hummed along, not even minding the cussing. Pretty pretty please, don’t you ever ever feel, like your less than, fucking perfect. To me. The pilot announced their landing and Riley sighed. “Well, let’s get this over with.”

Hiccup sat in the small sitting room for Lunar Records. Jack, his friend from the boy band The Guardians, had agreed to get him a meeting with Manny Lunar, one of the larger music producers. The man smiled amicably as Hiccup spoke of his ideas and even had some of his recordings for his newer songs.

   Manny smiled as he listened. Don’t get too close, it’s dark inside. It’s where my demons hide. It’s where my demons hide. “I must say, I can see why Berk Records wanted you so badly. Your music is certainly inspired.”

“Thank you sir. And so you know, my contract with Berk Records is almost up to end.” Hiccup smiled, hoping the older man understood what he was trying to say.

Manny smiled. “Well, you certainly have made a career for yourself and you’re an admirable artist. And personally, I like this stuff more than that awful music they were having you sing before.” Hiccup nodded.

   Manny frowned in thought before extending his hand. “Well, I’ll cut you a deal young man. Impress me at the Burgess Music Festival and as soon as your deal with Berk ends, you’ll have one waiting here for you.”

   Hiccup shook the man’s hand. “Thank you sir. You won’t regret it.”

   “I’m sure I won’t. Now I’d suggest you go and meet your duet partner.”

Riley sat on one of the large plush couches in the recording studio for Lunar Records. Apparently Hiccup Haddock had a meeting with Manny Lunar. She was beginning to get nervous, a mental picture of her partner forming. He seemed nice during the interviews but it could all be a lie. He could walk into the room and immediately be dirty and suggestive with her. Her head was swimming with ideas of escape when the door creaked and Hiccup stepped in.

She hadn’t known what she’d been expecting, but he wasn’t it. He wore a simple button up green shirt, a black blazer over it and some jeans. He looked… approachable. She eased up and was surprised to see he offered her a lopsided smile. “Um, I’m Hiccup, although I’m guessing you already knew that.”

   He extended his hand. She took it, shaking it gently. “So, Riley, um… We’re singing together.”

   “It would appear so.” Riley offered, still confused as to why he was so… normal. He even seemed nervous. “So we’ve got to come up with a song to duet, we could either use either one of ours or write a new one.”

Hiccup looked up. “You mean, you were your own songs?”

   “You don’t? Riley asked, extremely confused.

   Hiccup frowned. "I’m just the face for the songs they write. None of my songs get past them. Why do you think I sing all that kind of music?”

   “I-I just assumed…” Riley dropped off, seeming unable to continue.

   “That I wrote them?” Hiccup seemed scandalized at the idea.

   “I write mine and I just… I assumed that was how it worked.”

   Hiccup sighed and frowned. Well, that’s not the way it works for me. I came in with a list of songs when they first got me and they basically put mine through the shredder and handed me songs to learn.“

   Riley frowned at the sheer honesty in his voice. Lunar Records always listened to her suggestions as an artist. When she had a song, they listened and if it was good, the let her record it. If it wasn’t, they found ways Riley agreed with to improve on it. She couldn’t imagine a reality where they’d trample her ideas and give her a song to sing. They chose her to begin with because of her love for making music and her artistry.

   She held out a hand. "Can I see that notebook?” Hiccup nodded, handing it over.

   Riley began flipping through the pages, surprised to find songs unlike anything she’d seen before. “You wrote these?”

Hiccup nodded, blushing slightly. Riley smiled. “I think this is the beginning of an amazing career. But I think I have an idea to make this performance better.”

   “How?” Hiccup asked. Riley smiled and picked up her pen.

   “You’ll see.”

Hiccup heard the crowd cheering, waiting for him. He was shaking. He was about to sing his own music in front of a crowd of thousands. He was about to openly slap Berk Records in the face by doing his own music rather than the stuff they gave him. And he was about to duet with Riley Corona under the watch of Manny Lunar, which could very well make or break his chances at Lunar Records. Riley sidled up to him, all dressed up for her song. She gave his arm a squeeze for reassurance. “You’ll do great out there. They’ll love your song, trust me. And even if you lose the people who love the rap, you’ll get all my fans given your songs are amazing and they’ll especially love the song we made together.”

   Hiccup nodded, noticing it was Riley’s turn. She started to leave before pecking his cheek and going to the stage. “Hello Burgess! Can I just say something?” The crowds cheered as she began. Nice to meet you, where you been? I could show you incredible things.

   The song gave Hiccup a chance to calm down and before he knew it, he heard the final words to Riley’s song. And I’ll write your name. Hiccup walked past Riley as she walked off the stage, noticing everyone’s eyes were on him. He remembered he wasn’t in his usual hip hop attire.

   He gulped and began. When the days are cold and the cards all fold. When the saints we see are all made of gold. When your dreams all fail and the nicest we hail are the worst of all. And the blood runs stale.

   Hiccup was surprised to see that people were listening, interested in his new music. I wanna hide the truth. I wanna shelter you. But with the beast inside, there’s nowhere we can hide. No matter what we breed, we still are made of greed. This is my kingdoms come. This is my kingdom come.

Hiccup continued, growing more and more emboldened as everyone really seemed to like his music. His music. He smiled as he sang out the last few words. It’s where my demons hide. It’s where my demons hide! The crowd cheered and Hiccup walked backstage, promptly being tackled by Riley.

   “I told you they’d love it. I heard tons of people telling Manny to sign you up with Lunar Records!”

   Hiccup smiled. “It’s not over yet. There’s still one last song we have to sing.” Riley nodded and the duo walked to the backstage, getting ready to perform.

Riley smiled as she thought of Hiccup, glad to know he was getting to live his dream without anyone controlling him. She heard the crowds scream both their names eagerly as she started.

   All those days, watching from the windows. All those years, outside looking in. All that time, never really knowing just how blind I’d been. Hiccup joined in. Now I’m here, blinking in the starlight. Now I’m here, suddenly I see. Standing here, it’s all so clear, I’m where I’m meant to be.

   They looked at each other before continuing together. And at last I see the light. And it’s like the fog has lifted. And at last I see the light. And it’s like, the sky is new. And it’s warm and real and bright, and the world has somehow shifted. All at once, everything looks different, now that I see you. Riley blushed at how close they were before they moved apart for the second half.

   Hiccup continued. All those years, chasing down a daydream. All those years, living in a blur. All that time never truly seeing things, the way they were. Now she’s here, shining in the starlight. Now she’s here, suddenly I know, if she’s here, it’s crystal clear, I’m where I’m meant to go.

   They rejoined, Hiccup even grabbing her hand as they sang together. And at last I see the light, and it’s like the fog has lifted. And at last I see the light. And it’s like the sky is new. And it’s warm and real and bright, and the world has somehow shifted. The song slowed down, Hiccup noticing Riley had a stray hair and tucking it behind her ear. All at once, everything is different, now that I see you.

   Riley blushed at Hiccups gesture, noticing his cheeks were red as well. Which meant he was nervous too. Now that I… Their faces were a hairs width from each other and Riley honestly wanted to close the distance.

   See you. They finished together, staying close. They only pulled apart when the crowd cheered like crazy. Both walked off the stage, Riley daring to grab Hiccups hand.

   “I-I need to tell you something.” She confessed.

   Hiccup smirked. “I think I have an idea of what you’re about to say.” Riley playfully slapped his arm, but leaned up as he leaned down. Their lips once again so close.

   “Haddock!” An angry voice came. Hiccup groaned.

   “Can’t you see I’m occupied at the moment?” Riley turned to see Mr. Black, the boss of Berk Records. “Haddock, it says quite clearly in Section 7, Subparagraph B, line 6 of your contract with us that you have to sing what we give you to sing. And last I checked, the song you were bound by contract to sing at this concert was Talk Dirty to Me, not that load of rubbish you sang up on stage.”

   Hiccup smirked, putting an arm around Riley’s waist. “Mr. Black, I’m not seeing a problem here.”

   “The problem is that you broke your contract. And according to your deal with our record company, breaking your contract results in direct termination of your employment with us. Meaning you are out of a job, Haddock. Good luck finding someone to produce the rubbish you call music.”

   “He already has.” Manny Lunar interrupted. “In fact, I offered him a job a few days ago, but he declined given he wanted to let your contract with him end before joining us. He could’ve embarrassed your company by joining mine, but he saved you the public scandal. Now, if you’ll go Pitch, I can begin to discuss a contract with my newest artist, Hiccup Haddock.”

   Pitch glowered but admitted defeat, walking away. Manny smiled at Hiccup and Riley. “Actually, come to think of it, I have a previous engagement. Hiccup, what do you say we meet tomorrow to discuss the contract. 10 o'clock?”

   “10 o'clock.” Hiccup agreed. Manny gave the duo a knowing smile and walked off.

   “So, what do you think the paparazzi will think when they see Riley Corona with Hiccup Haddock?”

   Hiccup groaned. “Oh, I can see it now, the tabloids, the monitoring of every detail of our relationship.”

   “Relationship?” Riley blushed.

   “If we were about to kiss back there, and I’m guessing we were, I’d suspect we’d be getting together sooner or later.” Hiccup admitted.

   Riley smiled and leaned up, quickly kissing him. She smiled at the blush she earned. “Come on, I know a great coffee place near here. And what do you say to making a scene when we leave? Give them something to write about?”

   Hiccup smiled before wrapping an arm around Riley’s shoulder. “Let’s do it.”

[one-of-us-blog]

Quantum of Solace (2008)

Today Drew is forced to watch and recap 2008’s Quantum of Solace, the twenty-second James Bond adventure. We might have cashed out of the Casino Royale, but Bond’s still got some cards to play and some scores to settle. Bond finds himself caught up in the schemes of a supposed philanthropist, but M worries his hunger for vengeance will get in the way of him doing his job. Can Bond put his personal feelings aside long enough to stay alive, or will he be swept away in a wave of black gold?

Keep reading to find out…

Eli, I’m sorry you’ve been having such a rough time during your stay at the Golden Palace! I think the next episode you have to cover, “Tad”, is probably the best episode of the whole show, so hopefully you get some enjoyment out of that one. I’ve checked out of the Casino Royale, but I still have a lot of Bond adventures to go so I’m gonna get to it! 

Buttocks tight!

Screenplay by Paul Haggis & Neal Purvis, Robert Wade, film directed by Marc Forster

PREVIOUSLY ON ONE OF US!

Bond got tangled up with a gambler named Le Chiffre who laundered money for a mysterious, conspicuously unnamed terrorist organization and got his balls whipped clean off by a rope. Turns out Bond’s new gal pal, Vesper Lynd, was being blackmailed by the organization into stealing money for them. Le Chiffre got shot in the dome by a member of the organization named Mr. White and Lynd drowned in a building. Bond, hungry for vengeance over the loss of Lynd and his entire dick, tracked down and confronted White.

AND NOW, THE CONTINUATION

Bond races through the streets of Siena, Italy with some goons hot on his tail. We were blessed in so many ways by Casino Royale, but one of my favorite things about it was the lack of ubiquitous vehicle chases that have plagued this franchise for far too long. I guess we all have to pay the piper at some point, though, and our check’s getting cashed today. After three straight minutes of driving, Bond loses his pursuers, pulls into a shady tunnel and opens the truck of his car, revealing a kidnapped Mr. White.

Onto the opening credits! Oh, no, wait a second! We can’t be at the credits already, can we? Something’s missing! I can’t quite put my trigger finger on it, but there’s definitely that’s supposed to go in between the opening scene and the credit sequence… Oh, well, I’m sure it’ll come up sooner or later. In a first for the series, we’re treated to a duet at Jack White and Alicia Keys belt out “Another Way to Die” as a CGI Bond makes his way through the desert from Journey. Another thing I loved about Casino Royale was how rad its credits sequence was, and its lack of silhouetted naked ladies flailing around. Once again the gifts of the past have been turned into a curse for the present as those shadowy, irrepressible vixens retake the stage. Honestly, there’s not a lot else I can say about this; Bond’s wandering a desert, shooting his gun at random intervals while the naked lady silhouettes do their thing. At one point there’s this bit where a whole gaggle of them spin around Bond as he falls through space or something and they’re animated like a zoetrope and that’s pretty neat, but other than that this one’s a bit of a snooze fest. The colors are nice, though, I’ll give it that.

Anyway, Bond delivers White to M. Bond and M catch up a bit; the Americans were supposed to get Le Chiffre after Leiter bailed Bond out during the poker game, so they’re not happy about him being dead. Also, Lynd’s boyfriend, Yusef Kabira (Simon Kassianides), the guy she was trying to save in the first place, is also dead as hell. Or is he? Turns out the DNA of the mutilated body that’s supposed to be the remains of Kabira doesn’t match the DNA M got from Lynd’s old apartment while she was out playing CSI. Bond surreptitiously snatches a picture of Lynd and Kabira while M lets him know straight up that she’s concerned about his reliability. Bond assures her he super absolutely for sure doesn’t care about Lynd and has no interest in tracking down Kabira or avenging what’s-her-name. M begins to interrogate White and puts on her best tough gal act, but White isn’t intimidated. If anything, he’s more delighted than anything at the clear ignorance MI6 has in regards to him and his mysterious, conspicuously unnamed terrorist organization. M learns a hard lesson when White reveals that his organization has people everywhere, including MI6. M’s bodyguard, Mitchell, pulls out a gun and shoots an agent before taking a shot at M. Mitchell and White both run for it and M is lying on the ground wounded, but Bond chooses to chase after Mitchell.

Bond chases Mitchell out of the cellar they’re in and onto a crowded street, resulting in a few innocent bystanders getting shot full of lead. It’s another balls to the wall chase scene, and it ends with Bond shooting Mitchell while hanging upside down from a rope after they both fell out of a bell tower. Bond returns to the cellar but both M and White are long gone. He finds her back in London where she and the other members of her Forensics Club are going through Mitchell’s apartment. She’s pretty shaken up, but not about getting shot; Mitchell worked as her personal bodyguard for eight years, and no one at MI6, including herself, had the slightest clue he was dirty. M wants to know what the hell this organization is, who the hell is in it and how the hell Mi6 doesn’t know anything the hell about them.

It takes a while, but MI6 finally gets a lead in the form of digitally marked bills that had been introduced into Le Chiffre’s money laundering operation. Some money found on Mitchell is tied to money belonging to one Edmund Slate (Neil Jackson) who’s currently living it up in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. That’s enough for M, so Bond heads straight for Haiti and begins snooping around the hotel Slate is staying in. Slate and Bond fight in Slate’s room, but the fight doesn’t last long and Slate ends up bleeding out after slicing his neck on a widow and getting stabbed in the thigh by Bond. Jeez, this terrorist organization should really be paying Bond to clean up all their loose ends so efficiently! Bond steals some of Slate’s clothes and assumes his identity. He collects a briefcase Slate had stored at the front desk and makes his way outside, only to immediately be ordered into the car of a mysterious woman (Olga Kurylenko). The woman notices someone following them on a bike, and then both she and Bond find out that someone had hired Slate to kill her. Thinking Slate is Bond she pulls a gun on him herself, then kicks him out of her car and speeds off. The guy on the bike catches up and, also thinking Bond is Slate, chastises him for not killing the woman like he was supposed to. Bond steals the guy’s bike and pursues the woman, following her to a guarded compound.

The woman, whose name is Camille Montes, confronts her lover, Dominic Greene (Mathieu Amalric). He readily admits to hiring Slate to kill her, accusing her of trying to betray him. She tries to put his mind at ease, but he’s not having it and says the only reason she’s having anything to do with him is because she wants to get to General Medrano (Joaquín Cosío), an exile of Bolivia whom Montes has a grudge against. Greene and Medrano meet, and Greene promises to destabilize the Bolivian government enough to allow Medrano to seize power. In exchange, Greene wants a seemingly worthless patch of desert. Greene and Medrano discuss Medrano’s connection to Montes, specifically that he had her family killed before he was exiled, and then Greene gives Montes to Medrano as a gift. Gross! Medrano takes Montes and he and his posse set off in a yacht, but Bond quickly crashes into it with a speedboat he stole. He rescues Montes right before she can kill Medrano, much to her frustration, because Bond can kill as many people as he wants but heaven forbid a woman in this franchise be allowed to avenge her murdered family. We’re really making up for the chase scene respite we enjoyed in Casino Royale, because now it’s time for a boat chase. It doesn’t take Bond too long to give the General’s men the slip, though the chase does result in Montes getting knocked out on the floor of the boat.

Bond unceremoniously dumps the still-unconscious Montes onto a random dock worker and follows a signal from a tracker he managed to plant on one of Greene’s men. He calls MI6 and asks them to look into Greene. Greene is a much more common surname than, say, Goldfinger or Scaramanga, so you can imagine that this is not an easy task for the old HQ. M is pissed at Bond for killing Slate, but Bond refuses to give a shit about his actions or her frustrations. MI6 is able to put together that Dominic Greene is the CEO of a utility company called Greene Planet, which has been doing a lot of philanthropic work lately and has been buying up land under the guise of setting up ecological reserves. M calls the Americans to ask about their boi, and they send her to Greggory Beam (David Harbour). Beam assures M the American government has absolutely no interest in Greene, but M calls bullshit. Beam is the head of the CIA’s South American section, and how would they have known to sent M to him unless they were keeping tabs on Greene and knew he was in Haiti? Hot damn, the gals in the Forensics Club are gonna have a field day with this one!

Bond follows his tracker to an airfield, where Greene boards a plane. Inside Greg Beam and our old friend Felix Leiter are waiting, and soon the whole crew sets off for Bregenz, Austria with Bond following close behind. While in the air, Greene and Beam spell out their deal for us. The US won’t interfere with General Medrano’s coup in Bolivia in exchange for the US getting the rights to any oil found in Bolivia. Beam is tickled pink by the prospects of some black gold, but Leiter is pretty disgusted by all this. Greene has his man show Beam and Greene a pic of Bond that his man snapped and tells Beam he’ll need to be eliminated. Leiter, a true blue bro to the end, denies recognizing Bond, but after a second look Beam recognizes him and announces to the whole plane that he’s James Bond and that he works for British Intelligence. Way to go, Gregory. After the plane touches down Greene and his man depart and Leiter tells Beam this whole thing is an obviously bad idea. Beam doesn’t care and tells Leiter to keep his nose clean if he doesn’t want to lose his job.

In Bregenz, Greene goes to see Tosca and Bond follows him after pilfering a tux. While all patrons receive a swag bag upon arriving, Bond notices that certain attendees get super secret special bag. Assuming the bag contains invaluable collectables that any PucciniHead would die for, Bond relieves a man of his while they’re in the bathroom and is disappointed to find it only contains a pin in the shape of the letter Q and an earpiece. Greene also received one of these special bags, and during the opera, while all the real fans are being swept away by Puccini’s masterpiece, he and several other people in attendance communicate surreptitiously using the earpieces. Bond listens in while they discuss the various workings of their organization, which they refer to as Quantum, and then chimes in himself in order to spook several of the members into leaving the show. Once they’re up and headed for the exits Bond is able to snap pictures of them, which he sends to MI6. Mr. White, who is also in attendance, is unimpressed.

Bond makes a run for it before he can get pinned down, and runs right into Greene and his posse as they head for the exits. Greene sends his goons after Bond, which results in a shoot out in a fancy restaurant and the deaths of several more innocent bystanders. Bond manages to get his hands on one of the goons, only to drop the guy off a roof when he refuses to say who he works for. Man, Bond just refuses to bring anybody in for interrogation! This guy hates information! The guy lands on Greene’s car and Greene’s man shoots him to death. This is a real fly in the ointment, because that guy was a Special Branch operative working as a bodyguard for Guy Haines (Paul Ritter), a special envoy to the Prime Minister. Now it looks like Bond killed the bodyguard of the Prime Minister’s buddy, which is not a good look.

M calls Bond and tells him he needs to come in while this is sorted out, but he refuses. M cuts off Bond’s access to MI6 resources and puts an alert on his collection of passports while MI6 digs up the dirt on Haines. Being cut off from the family money instantly puts Bond in a tight spot, as he’s not able to buy a plane ticket he needs to keep tracking Greene. He’s able to make his way to Talamone, Italy, where he meets with his old, now-retired friend René Mathis. Keep in mind, the last time Bond and Mathis hung out Bond had Mathis branded as a traitor and he was locked up by MI6. His name’s been cleared in the days since all that happened, which is good, but now Bond is coming to him for help. Bond shows him the pictures he got of the Quantum members at the opera, and Mathis recognizes Haines and says he’s nobody to trifle with. Despite living the good life and having no conceivable reason for wanting to help Bond, Mathis agrees to join him on a trip to Bolivia.

At La Paz, Bolivia, Bond and Mathis are confronted by Miss Fields (Gemma Arterton), a consulate worker with orders to get Bond on a flight to London. The next flight isn’t until tomorrow, so Fields agrees to tag along with Bond and Mathis while they get up to trouble. Bond and Fields immediately sleep together, and Mathis later informs Bond that he’s been invited to a party hosted by Greene Planet. At the party, Greene gives a speech about ecological peril and discusses environmental issues with his guests while also sowing seeds of unrest directed at the current Bolivian government. A positively sloshed Montes keeps this from going smoothly by telling Greene’s admirers about how land he’d previously bought to use as an ecological reserve was sold off to a big company that stripped it bare. Greene drags Montes away, all the while being observed by Felix Leiter. Montes is still obsessed with getting revenge on Medrano, and Greene prepares to push her off the ledge of a balcony when Bond swoops in to save her. Greene sends a man after Bond, but the scrappy Miss Fields manages to trip him down a flight of stairs so Bond and Montes can put some safe distance between them and Greene.

Bond tells Montes he needs her to get more dirt on Greene’s secret projects, but they barely make it out of the party before they get pulled over by some cops. The cops are clearly dirty and they tell Bond to open his trunk, where an unconscious Mathis is found. The cops shoot Mathis in the back as Bond helps him out of the trunk, and Bond kills them in kind. Bond holds Mathis while he dies, following through with his plan to ruin this man’s life right up to the end. Mathis says he forgives Bond and asks him to forgive Vesper Lynd for betraying him. Mathis dies and Bond tosses his body into a dumpster after stealing some cash off him.

The cops blame Bond for Mathis’ death, so now M thinks he’s on a full-blown rampage, and after the whole Mitchell thing it’s easy to understand why she’d be ready to believe someone she trusted was dirty. Bond and Montes get their hands on a plane, which Bond flies while Montes guides him to the land Greene bought from Medrano. During the flight Bond causally informs us that Montes was formerly an agent of the Bolivian Secret Service. Bond spots some sinkholes in the desert, and then their plane is suddenly shot up by some of Greene’s flyboys. You guessed it, we’ve had car chases, foot chases and a boat chase, so naturally it’s time for a plane chase. Bond barely keeps his bird in the air, but the other plane is still coming for them and it shoots out one of their engines. Bond uses the smoke from the dead engine to blind the enemy pilot and trick him into flying into the side of a mountain.

Bond has Montes put on a parachute in preparation for abandoning the plane, but then out of nowhere a helicopter pops up and picks up the crashed plane’s shooting slack. This is too much for the plane, and it’s finally going down. Bond jumps out with Montes and only one parachute between the pair of them, and they fall into a sinkhole. They manage to grab onto each other and deploy the ‘chute just before hitting the ground, but they still hit hard enough to knock both of them out. M is called into a meeting with a government bigwig and informed that the British government is now preparing to do business with Greene. M protests and asks for time to gather evidence to prove Greene is a rude, crude dude. The official doesn’t really care if Greene is a bad guy or not, and tells M to pull Bond in before the Americans can kill him.

Back in the sinkhole, Montes tells Bond about her tragic backstory and her thirst for vengeance. Now that he knows how horny Montes is for killing Medrano Bond apologizes for stopping her earlier, and the two set off to find a way out of their hole. They discover that Greene has secretly dammed up an underground river, causing an artificial drought, and when they make it to the surface they see some Bolivians desperate for the water Greene is hording below the surface. Bond takes Montes to his hotel, where he’s informed that Fields has left a note for him. The note tells him to run, but he’s got to check his room first. In the room he finds M and a whole squad of goons. Bond and M are both mad at each other; Bond is mad at M for getting into bed with Greene over nonexistent oil, and M is mad at Bond for getting so caught up in his grief over the loss of Lynd and his thirst for vengeance. Bond finds out that Fields has been killed by being drowned in oil and that her oil-coated corpse has been left on his bed. M knows Greene is behind this just as much as Bond does, but she still blames Bond for her death. Fields was an office worker who was only in Bolivia to collect Bond and take him home, and she only got caught up in all of this because she had a crush on him. M suspends Bond and has him escorted away by guards, but he beats the guards up in an elevator. Bond catches up to M and points out Fields’ bravery before telling her that the two of them need to finish this. M says there’s nowhere to go and that there’s a capture or kill order out on him, but she doesn’t stop him from scampering over a balcony to escape the never-ending swarm of agents coming to collect him. She tells her assistant to have him followed because he’s onto something, and tells the CIA to piss off because Bond is her agent and she trusts him.

Outside the hotel, Montes swoops in to give him a ride. Meanwhile, Leiter and Beam are chilling in their hotel room when Bond gives Leiter a call. Leiter meets Bond in a bar, and the two discuss the ethics of oil, money and Greene. Leiter had to report making contact with Bond so some CIA goons are about to tear this place apart, but Leiter has enough time to tell Bond that Medrano can’t stage his coup until he pays off some officials and he has to get money from Greene before he can do that. Leiter tells Bond where Medrano is meeting with Greene to get his cash, and lets Bond get away before his fellow CIA agents can capture and/or kill him.

Bond and Montes prepare to storm the hotel as Greene arrives with Medrano’s spondoolies. Greene does indeed bring the skrilla, but he also brings a contract for Medrano which will make Quantum the sole provider of Bolivia’s utilities. Medrano’s pissed about this bit of extortion, but after some threats from Greene he signs the contract and gets his money. Montes infiltrates the hotel and finds Medrano’s room, where she hears him assaulting a woman who brought him a beer earlier. Bond, meanwhile, goes on a rampage in the parking garage to prevent Greene from getting away. Montes gets into Medrano’s room and the two start beating the hell out of each other just as Bond catches up to Greene and the two of them start beating the hell out of each other.

Bond set off a chain reaction of explosions during his rampage, so it should be noted that both of these fights are going on while the hotel is exploding around them. Bond gets the better of Greene just as Medrano gets the upper hand and shoots her family’s murderer. Bond chooses not to kill Greene, and instead rescues the trapped Montes from the burning hotel room. He sees Montes through her flashback to her traumatic childhood and then the two escape, catching sight of Greene limping away in the distance. It doesn’t take Bond long to track him down once he finds a car that hasn’t exploded yet, and after interrogating him offscreen Bond leaves him in the middle of the desert with only a can of oil to drink.

Bond drives Montes back to civilization, and the two make plans to dismantle Greene’s dams and get water flowing in Bolivia again. They give each other a kiss goodbye and Bond sets off for Kazan, Russia, where he’s able to track down Yusef Kabira. Kabira has moved on from Lynd’s death and has a new girlfriend who works in Canadian intelligence. Bond explains to the woman that she has access to some sensitive material, and soon Kabira will be threatened and she’ll be blackmailed into giving that information up. Kabira’s entire relationship with Lynd was built on this same scheme, and him getting her involved in the mess at the Casino Royale led to her death. Bond sends Kabira’s new gal pal off and allows MI6 to take Kabira into custody. That’s right, he didn’t kill the guy! Who’d have thought! Bond and M meet outside the hotel, and M lets Bond know Greene was found shot to death in the desert and Felix Leiter got a promotion. Bond lets her know he’s forgiven Lynd for betraying him and is finally moving on from his grief.

The –

Oh shit, just kidding, right before the final credits role we get our first real barrel shot featuring Daniel Craig! I knew something was missing from earlier!

The End

~~~~~

Phew, let me catch my breath after being so long winded! I know from my general understanding of the Bond franchise that this movie didn’t receive the same fanfare that Casino Royale did, but I’ve got to say that I really enjoyed it! I think Casino Royale is probably the closest to a perfect Bond flick that I’ve seen so far and I can’t say that Quantum of Solace reached those same heights, but it was still a very well-made movie. I think one of the things I appreciated so much about Casino Royale was its willingness to step away from established tropes and do something that felt fresh and new to me, and that’s one area where I think Quantum of Solace stumbled. There were so many chase scenes in this movie! Boats, cars, planes, you name it, Bond was being chased by it. Also, I know this is a weird thing to be so bugged by, but I was really disappointed to see the return of the naked lady silhouettes in the credits sequence. Let’s leave those in the past already! One thing I loved about this movie was the character of Montes, and her being able to claim the vengeance she’d more than earned felt like a personal apology from the franchise over the travesty that was Melina Havelock’s arc in For Your Eyes Only. But we still had to have a disposable woman character murdered in order to piss Bond off in the form of Miss Fields (to be fair, that’s one trope Casino Royale also used). I don’t think Greene was as memorable a villain as Le Chiffre, and even though I think Mathieu Amalric did a fine job in his performance I never found myself really digging his character. Maybe it’s the fact that oil as a motive has already been used in the franchise, I don’t know. One thing I really liked was how much screen time M got, and she even got her own little arc about learning who she can trust. I also just really love Jeffrey Wright as Leiter, and was glad we got to spend more time with him here. Also, this is just a frivolous aesthetic note, but I really loved the way the each location name was shown with its own bespoke font. There were plenty of things I didn’t like about this movie, but there were a lot more things that I liked and overall I think this is a standout entry in the franchise.

I give Quantum of Solace QQQQ on the Five Q Scale.

Check back soon to catch Eli’s recaps of the next couple of episodes of The Golden Palace, “Tad” and “One Angry Stan”, and after that believe it or not I’ll be covering the penultimate James Bond film when I recap Skyfall.

Until then, as always, thank you for reading, thank you for that sweet, sweet vengeance and thank you for being One of Us!

[lightwood-alec]

TV Episodes 2017

13 Reasons Why (13) 1x01 - Tape 1, Side A 1x02 - Tape 1, Side B 1x03 - Tape 2, Side A 1x04 - Tape 2, Side B 1x05 - Tape 3, Side A 1x06 - Tape 3, Side B 1x07 - Tape 4, Side A 1x08 - Tape 4, Side B 1x09 - Tape 5, Side A 1x10 - Tape 5, Side B 1x11 - Tape 6, Side A 1x12 - Tape 6, Side B 1x13 - Tape 7, Side A 8 Out of 10 Cats (1) 20x08 - Jamali Maddix, Rick Edwards, Kate Humble & Joe Lycett (New Year’s Special) 8 Out of 10 Cats Does Countdown (1) 12x01- Stephen Mangan, Noel Fielding, Fay Ripley & the Brett Domino Trio A League of Their Own (9) 11x11 - Christmas Special 11x12 - U.S. Road Trip 2, Part One 11x13 - U.S. Road Trip 2, Part Two 11x14 - U.S. Road Trip 2, Part Three 11x15 - U.S. Road Trip 2, Part Four 11x16 - U.S. Road Trip 2, Part Five 12x01 - Rob Beckett, Dele Ali & Stephen Mangan 12x02 - Emma Bunton, Mo Farah & Anthony Joshua 12x04 - Charlotte Dujardin, Cesc Fabregas & Romesh Ranganathan American Gods (1) 1x01 - The Bone Orchard American Horror Story: Cult (11) American Horror Story: Hotel (4) 5x07 - Flicker 5x08 - Ten Commandments Killer 5x09 - She Wants Revenge 5x10 - She Gets Revenge An Unfortunate Series of Events (1) 1x01 - The Bad Beginning: Part One And Then There Were None (1) 1x01 - Episode One Animal Kingdom (14) 1x08 - Man In 1x09 - Judas Kiss 1x10 - What Have You Done 2x01 - Eat What You Kill 2x02 - Karma 2x03 - Bleed for It 2x04 - Broken Boards 2x05 - Forgive Us Our Trespasses 2x06 - Cry Havoc 2x07 - Dig 2x08 - Grace 2x09 - Custody 2x10 - Treasure 2x11 - The Leopard Archer (2) 8x01 - Archer Dreamland: No Good Deed 8x02 - Archer Dreamland: Berenice Arrow (1) 6x08 - Crisis on Earth-X, Part 2 Atlanta (10) 1x01 - The Big Bang 1x02 - Streets on Lock 1x03 - Go for Broke 1x04 - The Streisand Effect 1x05 - Nobody Beats the Biebs 1x06 - Value 1x07 - B.A.N. 1x08 - The Club 1x09 - Juneteenth 1x10 - The Jacket Ballers (8) 1x02 - Raise Up 1x03 - Move the Chains 1x04 - Heads Will Roll 1x05 - Machete Charge 1x06 - Everything Is Everything 1x07 - Ends 1x08 - Gaslighting 1x09 - Head-On Bates Motel (3) 5x05 - Dreams Die First 5x06 - Marion 5x07 - Inseparable Big Fat Quiz of the Year (2) 1x24 - Big Fat Quiz of the Year 2016 1x25 - Big Fat Quiz of Everything 2017 Big Little Lies (7) Big Time Rush (1) 2x15 - Big Time Reality Bill Nye Saves the World (2) 1x01 - Earth Is a Hot Mess 1x02 - Tune Your Quack-o-Meter Billy on the Street (18) 1x01 - And Away We Go... 1x02 - Television is the Greatest Thing to Ever Happen to Me! 1x03 - Drunk Rich 1x04 - Can Rachel Dratch Name 20 White People in 30 Seconds? 1x05 - The Meryl Streep Showdown 1x06 - Where in the World is Scarlett Johansson’s Vagina? 1x07 - Ask an Asian! 1x08 - Are You Smarter Than a Gay Fifth Grader? 1x09 - Did You Hear Madonna Died? 1x10 - Joan Rivers Gets Quizzed in the Face 2x01 - Billy Meets Mr. Singh! 2x02 - The Lesbian Lightning Round, with Andy Cohen 2x03 - Scream for an American Girl Doll, with Will Ferrell 2x04 - It’s Spock - Do You Care?, with Zachary Quinto 2x05 - Whistleblow that Jew!, with Rashida Jones and Maya Rudolph 2x06 - It’s Debra Messing, You Gays!, with Debra Messing and Christian Borle 2x07 - Do You Think Gisele Bundchen Understands the Jokes on Portlandia?, with Nas and Ashley Benson 5x08 - Curbside Conga Line with James Corden The Blacklist (4) 4x03 - Miles McGrath (No. 65) 4x04 - Gaia (No. 81) 4x05 - The Lindquist Concern (No. 105) 4x06 - The Thrushes (No. 53) Black Sails (10) 4x01 - XXIX 4x02 - XXX 4x03 - XXXI 4x04 - XXXII 4x05 - XXXIII 4x06 - XXXIV 4x07 - XXXV 4x08 - XXXVI 4x09 - XXXVII 4x10 - XXVIII Boardwalk Empire (2) 1x04 - Anastasia 1x05 - Nights in Ballygran The Bold Type (10) Brooklyn Nine-Nine (23) 4x11 - The Fugitive, Part One 4x12 - The Fugitive, Part Two 4x13 - The Audit 4x14 - Serve & Protect 4x15 - The Last Ride 4x16 - Moo Moo 4x17 - Cop Con 4x18 - Chasing Amy 4x19 - Your Honor 4x20 - The Slaughterhouse 4x21 - The Bank Job 4x22 - Crime & Punishment 5x01 - The Big House, Pt. 1 5x02 - The Big House, Pt. 2 5x03 - Kicks 5x04 - HalloVeen 5x05 - Bad Beat 5x06 - The Venue 5x07 - Two Turkeys 5x08 - Return to Skyfire 5x09 - 99 5x10 - Game Night 5x11 - The Favor Castlevania (4) 1x01 - Witchbottle 1x02 - Necropolis 1x03 - Labyrinth 1x04 - Monument Dear White People (10) 1x01 - Chapter I 1x02 - Chapter II 1x03 - Chapter III 1x04 - Chapter IV 1x05 - Chapter V 1x06 - Chapter VI 1x07 - Chapter VII 1x08 - Chapter VIII 1x09 - Chapter IX 1x10 - Chapter X The Defenders (8) Difficult People (28) Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency (4) 1x01 - Horizons 1x02 - Lost & Found 1x03 - Rogue Wall Enthusiasts 1x04 - Watkin The Exorcist (9) 1x08 - Chapter Eight: The Griefbearers 1x09 - Chapter Nine: 162 1x10 - Chapter Ten: Three Rooms 2x01 - Janus 2x02 - Safe as Houses 2x03 - Unclean 2x04 - One for Sorrow 2x05 - There But for the Grace of God, Go I 2x06 - Darling Nikki The Flash (3) 2x04 - The Fury of Firestorm 3x17 - Duet 4x08 - Crisis on Earth-X, Part 3 Freedom Fighters: The Ray (3) 1x01 - Episode One 1x02 - Episode Two 1x03 - Episode Three Future Man (13) Game of Thrones (2) 7x06 - Beyond the Wall 7x07 - The Dragon and the Wolf The Get Down (11) 1x01 - Where There Is Ruin, There Is Hope for a Treasure 1x02 - Seek Those Who Fan Your Flames 1x03 - Darkness Is Your Candle 1x04 - Forget Safety, Be Notorious 1x05 - You Have Wings, Learn to Fly 1x06 - Raise Your Words, Not Your Voice 1x07 - Unfold Your Own Myth 1x08 - The Beat Says, This Is The Way 1x09 - One by One, Into the Dark 1x10 - Gamble Everything 1x11 - Only From Exile Can We Come Home Girl Meets World (1) 3x21 - Girl Meets Goodbye Glue (6) 1x01 - Everyone 1x02 - James/Janine 1x03 - Eli/Rob 1x04 - Tina/Dominic 1x05 - James/Rob/Cal 1x06 - Rob/Tina The Good Place (21) 1x01 - Pilot 1x02 - Flying 1x03 - Tahani Al-Jamil 1x04 - Jason Mendoza 1x05 - Category 55 Doomsday Crisis 1x06 - What We Owe to Each Other 1x07 - The Eternal Shriek 1x08 - Most Improved Player 1x09 - ...Someone Like Me as a Member 1x10 - Chidi’s Choice 1x11 - What’s My Motivation 1x12 - Mindy St. Claire 1x13 - Michael’s Gambit 2x01 - Everything Is Great! (Part 1) 2x02 - Everything Is Great! (Part 2) 2x03 - Dance Dance Resolution 2x04 - Team Cockroach 2x05 - Existential Crisis 2x06 - The Trolley Problem 2x07 - Janet and Michael 2x08 - Derek Gotham (22) 3x12 - Ghosts 3x13 - Smile Like You Mean It 3x14 - The Gentle Art of Making Enemies 3x15 - How the Riddler Got His Name 3x16 - These Delicate and Dark Obsessions 3x17 - The Primal Riddle 3x18 - Light the Wick 3x19 - All Will Be Judged 3x20 - Pretty Hate Machine 3x21 - Destiny Calling 3x22 - Heavydirtysoul 4x01 - Pax Penguina 4x02 - The Fear Reaper 4x03 - They Who Hide Behind Masks 4x04 - The Demon’s Head 4x05 - The Blade’s Path 4x06 - Hog Day Afternoon 4x07 - A Day in the Narrows 4x08 - Stop Hitting Yourself 4x09 - Let Them Eat Pie 4x10 - Things That Go Boom 4x11 - Queen Takes Knight Halt and Catch Fire (1) 3x01 - Valley of the Heart’s Delight House of Cards (13) 5x01 - Chapter 53 5x02 - Chapter 54 5x03 - Chapter 55 5x04 - Chapter 56 5x05 - Chapter 57 5x06 - Chapter 58 5x07 - Chapter 59 5x08 - Chapter 60 5x09 - Chapter 61 5x10 - Chapter 62 5x11 - Chapter 63 5x12 - Chapter 64 5x13 - Chapter 65 How to Get Away with Murder (2) 3x10 - We’re Bad People 3x11 - Not Everything's About Annalise Iron Fist (13) 1x01 - Snow Gives Way 1x02 - Shadow Hawk Takes Flight 1x03 - Rolling Thunder Cannon Punch 1x04 - Eight Diagram Dragon Palm 1x05 - Under Leaf Pluck Lotus 1x06 - Immortal Emerges From Cave 1x07 - Felling Tree With Roots 1x08 - The Blessing of Many Fractures 1x09 - The Mistress of All Agonies 1x10 - Black Tiger Steals Heart 1x11 - Lead Horse Back to Stable 1x12 - Bar the Big Boss 1x13 - Dragon Plays With Fire The IT Crowd (5) 4x03 - Something Happened 4x04 - Italian For Beginners 4x05 - Bad Boys 4x06 - Reynholm vs. Reynholm 5x01 - The Final Episode It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia (10) 12x01 - The Gang Turns Black 12x02 - The Gang Goes to a Waterpark 12x03 - Old Lady House: A Situation Comedy 12x04 - Wolf Cola: A Public Relations Nightmare 12x05 - Making Dennis Reynolds a Murderer 12x06 - Hero or Hate Crime? 12x07 - PSTDee 12x08 - The Gang Tends Bar 12x09 - A Cricket’s Tale 12x10 - Dennis’ Double Life Last Week Tonight with John Oliver (30) 4x01 - February 12, 2017 (Trump vs. Truth) 4x02 - February 19, 2017 (Russia) 4x03 - February 26, 2017 (Affordable Care Act) 4x04 - March 5, 2017 (Tibet) 4x05 - March 12, 2017 (American Health Care Act) 4x06 - March 19, 2017 (United States Federal Budget) 4x07 - April 2, 2017 (Cannabis) 4x08 - April 9, 2017 (Gerrymandering) 4x09 - April 16, 2017 (2017 French Presidential Election) 4x10 - April 23, 2017 (Ivanka Trump and Jared Kushner) 4x11 - May 7, 2017 (Net Neutrality) 4x12 - May 14, 2017 (Dialysis) 4x13 - May 21, 2017 (Stupid Watergate) 4x14 - June 4, 2017 (Paris Agreement) 4x15 - June 11, 2017 (UK General Elections and Brexit Negotiations) 4x16 - June 18, 2017 (Coal Mining and Bob Murray) 4x17 - June 25, 2017 (Vaccine Safety) 4x18 - July 2, 2017 (Local News and Sinclair Broadcast Group) 4x19 - July 30, 2017 (Alex Jones and InfoWars) 4x20 - August 6, 2017 (United States Border Patrol) 4x21 - August 13, 2017 (North Korea Crisis) 4x22 - August 20, 2017 (Nuclear Waste) 4x23 - September 10, 2017 (Joe Arpaio) 4x24 - September 24, 2017 (Corporate Consolidation) 4x25 - October 1, 2017 (Forensic Evidence) 4x26 - October 8, 2017 (Confederate Monuments) 4x27 - October 15, 2017 (Equifax Security Breach) 4x28 - October 29, 2017 (National Flood Insurance Program) 4x29 - November 5, 2017 (Economic Development Incentives) 4x30 - November 12, 2017 (Donald Trump’s Presidency) Legends of Tomorrow (18) 2x09 - Raiders of the Lost Art 2x10 - The Legion of Doom 2x11 - Turncoat 2x12 - Camelot/3000 2x13 - Land of the Lost 2x14 - Moonshot 2x15 - Fellowship of the Spear 2x16 - Doomworld 2x17 - Aruba 3x01 - Aruba-Con 3x02 - Freakshow 3x03 - Zari 3x04 - Phone Home 3x05 - Return of the Mack 3x06 - Helen Hunt 3x07 - Welcome to the Jungle 3x08 - Crisis on Earth-X, Part 4 3x09 - Beebo the God of War Legion (8) 1x01 - Chapter 1 1x02 - Chapter 2 1x03 - Chapter 3 1x04 - Chapter 4 1x05 - Chapter 5 1x06 - Chapter 6 1x07 - Chapter 7 1x08 - Chapter 8 The Lodge (3) 1x01 - The New Girl 1x02 - Reality Check 1x03 - Opportunities Luke Cage (6) 1x08 - Blowin’ Up the Spot 1x09 - DWYCK 1x10 - Take It Personal 1x11 - Now You’re Mine 1x12 - Soliloquy of Chaos 1x13 - You Know My Steez Master of None (5) 2x01 - The Thief 2x02 - Le Nozze 2x03 - Religion 2x04 - First Date 2x05 - The Dinner Party Making History (2) 1x01 - Pilot 1x02 - The Shot Heard Round the World Me, Myself & I (2) 1x01 - Pilot 1x02 - The First Step The Mindy Project (17) 5x08 - Hot Mess Time Machine 5x09 - Bat Mitzvah 5x10 - Take My Ex-Wife Please 5x11 - Dibs 5x12 - Mindy Lahiri Is A White Man 5x13 - Mindy’s Best Friend 5x14 - A Decent Proposal 6x01 - Is That All There Is 6x02 - A Romantical Decouplement 6x03 - May Divorce Be With You 6x04 - Leo’s Girlfriend 6x05 - Jeremy and Anna’s Meryl Streep Costume Party 6x06 - The Midwife’s Tale 6x07 - Girl Gone Wild 6x08 - Doctors Without Boundaries 6x09 - Danny in Real Life 6x10 - It Had to Be You Mr. Mercedes (3) 1x01 - Pilot 1x02 - On Your Mark 1x03 - Cloudy, With a Chance of Mayhem Mr. Robot (10) 3x01 - eps3.0_power-saver-mode.h 3x02 - eps3.1_undo.gz 3x03 - eps3.2_legacy.so 3x04 - eps3.3_metadata.par2 3x05 - eps3.4_runtime-error.r00 3x06 - eps3.5_kill-process.inc 3x07 - eps3.6_fredrick+tanya.chk 3x08 - eps3.7_dont-delete-me.ko 3x09 - eps3.8_stage3.torrent 3x10 - shutdown -r Narcos (4) 1x01 - Descenso 1x02 - The Sword of Simon Bolivar 1x03 - The Men of Always 1x04 - The Palace in Flames New Girl (1) 6x04 - Homecoming The Night Of (7) 1x02 - Part Two: Subtle Beast 1x03 - Part Three: A Dark Crate 1x04 - Part Four: The Art of War 1x05 - Part Five: The Season of the Witch 1x06 - Part Six: Samson and Delilah 1x07 - Part Seven: Ordinary Death 1x08 - Part Eight: The Call of the Wild NTSF:SD:SUV:: (22) 1x01 - One Cabeza, Two Cabeza, Three Cabeza...DEAD! 1x02 - The Birthday Party That Was Neither 1x03 - Exes and Oh-No’s! 1x04 - The Risky Business of Being Alone in Your Home 1x05 - Dolphinnegan's Wake 1x06 - Tijuana, We've Got a Problem 1x07 - Full Hauser 1x08 - Up Periscope, Down with San Diego 1x09 - Cause for ConCERN 1x10 - Piper Doesn't Live Here Anymore 1x11 - Twistin’ the Night Away 1x12 - I Left My Heart In Someone's Cooler 2x01 - 16 Hop Street 2x02 - The Real Bicycle Thief 2x03 - Sabbath-tage 2x04 - Lights, Camera, Assassination 2x05 - Time Angels 2x06 - Whack-A-Mole 2x07 - Robot Town 2x08 - Comic-Con-Flict 2x09 - The Return of Dragon Shumway 2x10 - Family Dies Powerless (9) 1x01 - Wayne or Lose 1x02 - Wayne Dream Team 1x03 - Sinking Day 1x04 - Emily Dates a Henchman 1x05 - Cold Season 1x06 - I’ma Friend You 1x07 - Van vs. Emily: Dawn of Justice 1x08 - Green Furious 1x09 - Emergency Punch-Up Preacher (8) 2x01 - On The Road 2x02 - Mumbai Sky Tower 2x03 - Damsels 2x04 - Viktor 2x05 - Dallas 2x06 - Sokosha 2x07 - Pig 2x08 - Holes Prison Break (10) 4x01 - Scylla 5x01 - Ogygia 5x02 - Kaniel Outis 5x03 - The Liar 5x04 - The Prisoner’s Dilemma 5x05 - Contingency 5x06 - Phaeacia 5x07 - Wine Dark Sea 5x08 - Progeny 5x09 - Behind the Eyes The Punisher (1) 1x01 - 3AM Queer as Folk (UK) (1) 1x01 - Episode 1 Riverdale (7) 1x01 - The River’s Edge 1x02 - A Touch of Evil 1x03 - Body Double 1x04 - The Last Picture Show 1x05 - Heart of Darkness 1x06 - Faster, Pussycats! Kill! Kill! 1x07 - In a Lonely Place Saturday Night Live (2) 42x19 - Chris Pine / LCD Soundsystem 43x03 - Kumail Nanjiani / P!nk Scream Queens (4) 2x07 - The Hand 2x08 - Rapunzel, Rapunzel 2x09 - Lovin’ the D 2x10 - Drain the Swamp Sense8 (11) 2x01 - Happy F*cking New Year 2x02 - Who Am I? 2x03 - Obligate Mutualisms 2x04 - Polyphony 2x05 - Fear Never Fixed Anything 2x06 - Isolated Above, Connected Below 2x07 - I Have No Room in My Heart for Hate 2x08 - All I Want Right Now Is One More Bullet 2x09 - What Family Actually Means 2x10 - If All the World’s a Stage, Identity Is Nothing But a Costume 2x11 - You Want a War? Shadowhunters (20) 2x01 - This Guilty Blood 2x02 - A Door Into the Dark 2x03 - Parabatai Lost 2x04 - Day of Wrath 2x05 - Dust and Shadows 2x06 - Iron Sisters 2x07 - How Are Thou Fallen 2x08 - Love Is a Devil 2x09 - Bound by Blood 2x10 - By the Light of Dawn 2x11 - Mea Maxima Culpa 2x12 - You Are Not Your Own 2x13 - Those of Demon Blood 2x14 - The Fair Folk 2x15 - A Problem of Memory 2x16 - Day of Atonement 2x17 - A Dark Reflection 2x18 - Awake, Arise, or Be Forever Fallen 2x19 - Hail and Farewell 2x20 - Beside Still Water Sherlock (3) 4x01 - The Six Thatchers 4x02 - The Lying Detective 4x03 - The Final Problem Silicon Valley (10) 4x01 - Success Failure 4x02 - Terms of Service 4x03 - Intellectual Property 4x04 - Teambuilding Exercise 4x05 - The Blood Boy 4x06 - Customer Service 4x07 - The Patent Troll 4x08 - The Keenan Vortex 4x09 - Hooli-Con 4x10 - Server Error Smallville (1) 9x06 - Crossfire Stranger Things (9) Supergirl (1) 3x08 - Crisis on Earth-X, Part 1 Superstore (3) 1x01 - Pilot 1x02 - Magazine Profile 1x03 - Shots and Salsa Teen Wolf (6) 6x11 - Said the Spider to the Fly 6x12 - Raw Talent 6x13 - After Images 6x17 - Werewolves of London 6x19 - Broken Glass 6x20 - The Wolves of War Time After Time (2) 1x01 - Pilot 1x02 - I Will Catch You Trial & Error (13) 1x01 - Chapter 1: A Big Crime in a Small Town 1x02 - Chapter 2: A Wrench in the Case 1x03 - Chapter 3: The Other Man 1x04 - Chapter 4: An Unwelcome Distraction 1x05 - Chapter 5: Right-Hand Man 1x06 - Chapter 6: Secrets & Lies 1x07 - Chapter 7: The Case Gets Big 1x08 - Chapter 8: A Change in Defense 1x09 - Chapter 9: Opening Statements 1x10 - Chapter 10: A Hostile Jury 1x11 - Chapter 11: Unusual Suspect 1x12 - Chapter 12: The Defense Rests 1x13 - Chapter 13: The Verdict The Twilight Zone (1) 3x08 - It’s A Good Life Twin Peaks (9) 2x11 - Masked Ball 2x12 - The Black Widow 2x13 - Checkmate 2x14 - Double Play 2x22 - Beyond Life and Death 3x01 - The Return, Part 1 3x02 - The Return, Part 2 3x03 - The Return, Part 3 3x04 - The Return, Part 4 Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt (13) 3x01 - Kimmy Gets Divorced?! 3x02 - Kimmy’s Roommate Lemonades! 3x03 - Kimmy Can’t Help You! 3x04 - Kimmy Goes to College! 3x05 - Kimmy Steps on a Crack! 3x06 - Kimmy Is a Feminist! 3x07 - Kimmy Learns About the Weather! 3x08 - Kimmy Does a Puzzle! 3x09 - Kimmy Goes to Church! 3x10 - Kimmy Pulls Off a Heist! 3x11 - Kimmy Googles the Internet! 3x12 - Kimmy and the Trolley Problem! 3x13 - Kimmy Bites an Onion! The Vampire Diaries (2) 8x00 - Forever Yours (Retrospective Special) 8x16 - I Was Feeling Epic Veep (10) 6x01 - Omaha 6x02 - Library 6x03 - Georgia 6x04 - Justice 6x05 - Chicklet 6x06 - Qatar 6x07 - Blurb 6x08 - Judge 6x09 - A Woman First 6x10 - Groundbreaking Wet Hot American Summer: Ten Years Later (8) When We Rise (8) 1x01 - Part I 1x02 - Part II 1x03 - Part III 1x04 - Part IV 1x05 - Part V 1x06 - Part VI 1x07 - Part VII 1x08 - Part VIII Will (7) 1x01 - The Play’s the Thing 1x02 - Cowards Die Many Times 1x03 - The Two Gentlemen 1x04 - Brave New World 1x05 - The Marriage of True Minds 1x06 - Something Wicked This Way Comes 1x07 - What Dreams May Come The Young Pope (10) 1x01 - First Episode 1x02 - Second Episode 1x03 - Third Episode 1x04 - Fourth Episode 1x05 - Fifth Episode 1x06 - Sixth Episode 1x07 - Seventh Episode 1x08 - Eighth Episode 1x09 - Ninth Episode 1x10 - Tenth Episode Total: 675 TV 2016 TV 2015 TV 2014 TV 2013 TV 2012