#heard her sing it four days in a row and every time it was a religious experience and every time i forgot to come in with the miserere | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thewritingbeforesunrise · 1 year

Text

Confession. (Part 3)

18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI

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A/N: I am really sorry for the delay. I planned to post this over last weekend but I fell behind with the writing. Anyway, I hope this final chapter is worth the wait.

So, the inspiration for this one came from this picture. I had the absolute pleasure (and the dreadful curse) to witness, with my own two eyes, this fucker (affectionate) with rhinestones down his chest at my show.

I never recovered from that day, to be honest, but I promised myself I would definitely write something about it in one of my stories.

So, here it is. I hope you like it.

Confession. (Part1) (Part 2)

Word count: 7.5K (sorry, I couldn't shut up)

Pairing: Josh x female!reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+ONLY, graphic sexual content, language, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex.

If you are interested, you can join my taglist here.

Summary: Rhinestones and ice cream go well together.

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Almost an entire year had passed since that night in your room with Josh, and not once you had stopped thinking about the sweet touch of his lips on your skin, right before drifting off to sleep.

Every. Single. Night.

He helped you a lot to calm down your anxiety that night and he still did in the present, even if unconsciously.

Like last time, nobody mentioned anything and it was absolutely fine for you, even though you couldn't deny that you longed for his touch and presence.

You were still working for them.

They had released a new album and they had an international tour going.

You had the absolute pleasure to design some new stage clothes for the four of them and you were really proud of how they had turned out.

The Kiszka brothers were all growing facial hair, now, Danny had a new haircut that made him look like a 70's rock star and him and Josh had developed a novel interest in make-up.

Rhinestones, in particular, had caught their eye and had become a regular part of their stage outfits and make-up.

Their poor make-up artist had to glue indefinite amounts of little shiny stones on their faces every night, and it wasn't always an easy job, especially since one of them kept changing his mind on how he wanted them placed.

Of course, it was Josh you were referring to.

One night you had walked past his greenroom and you had heard him make her change the pattern three times in a row. And he stopped only because she had told him, with every right to do so, that he could do it himself if he didn't like how she was working.

Tonight's show was in Milan, Italy.

You had arrived the day before and you were already loving it.

The weather was heavenly.

It wasn't too hot even though it was the beginning of June. There was always a gentle cool breeze, making the beaming sun more bearable.

It was lovely.

The venue was outdoors, the stage was placed in a big field surrounded by trees and apartment buildings in the outskirts of the city.

It was so quiet and calm backstage that you could hear birds sing and crickets chirp in the grass.

You were currently organizing the boys wardrobe when you heard your phone buzz on the table.

It was a message from their make-up artist.

She was telling you that she wasn't feeling well and that she didn't know if she could make it to the show.

She was trapped in the hotel room with high temperature and she was afraid to infect the boys too.

But, what caused your hands to start shaking was the last line of the text.

She was asking you to help Danny and Josh with the rhinestones before the show.

At the exact moment you set the phone back on the table, Josh bursted in the room with his usual antics.

"Y/N, we need to practice with the rhinestones for tonight!" he said, with a beaming smile that exposed his perfect white teeth.

"Josh, it's eleven in the morning, the show it's at nine thirty tonight, we have plenty of time" You retorted, chuckling.

"We are already late, c'mon" he said, pushing a makeup bag into your chest, rather impatiently.

Two hours later you had a piercing headache caused by Josh's incessant rambling, but, at least, he had decided how he wanted the rhinestones on his cheeks.

You were so hungry that you couldn't even think straight anymore, so you accepted Josh's invite to have your lunch break with them.

When you met Danny, you asked him how he wanted his rhinestones and, in less than a minute, he explained everything to you.

Those two couldn't be more different, you thought, smiling to yourself.

You sat there with them for a while and you noticed how Jake and Sam kept stealing glances at you, with little smirks on their faces.

You were sitting on an outdoor sofa next to Josh, who was sitting on the grass, and Danny, who was perched on the armrest.

When Josh spoke to you, without thinking, he placed one of his hands on your knee, and you jolted a little.

You didn't expect him to do that.

Your cheeks pinkened a little and you caught Jake whispering something to Sam, and then they turned towards you and winked at the same time.

You blushed furiously and stood up, excusing yourself and muttering something about retrieving a new water bottle.

You wandered for a while backstage trying to calm down and then decided to go back.

When you arrived, you sat back in your spot and Jake and Sam acted like nothing happened.

Those two are up to something, you thought.

It was eight o'clock now and you were in the usual greenroom, checking the boys outfit for the umpteenth time.

You were carefully tracing the seams with your fingers, in case you spotted little damages in the fabric, when someone pushed the door open without knocking.

You already knew who it was, even without looking up from your task.

"Y/N, we should start with the rhinestones" he said smiling, already dressed in his stage clothes despite the show being almost two hours away.

"Are you sure you are not going to ruin them before everything starts?" You said and he assured you that he wouldn't.

You grabbed the make-up bag he was handing to you and started preparing everything you needed, while Josh sipped on his usual pre-show drink.

You grabbed a paper cup and you started placing different sized rhinestones on the back of it and then you retrieved the glue and the tweezers.

Once everything was ready, you approached him.

"Ok, Josh, now stay still and remember that I won't be as good as your make-up artist." You said and he grasped your shoulders.

"Y/N, you are going to do a perfect job, like everything you do, I just know this, so stop worrying." He said in a sweet tone, smiling brightly.

You blushed and, as you turned around to grab the glue, you bit your lip trying not to swoon.

In the morning, he had decided he wanted just two rows of silver rhinestones on his cheeks, so you tilted his face upwards a little, and started placing little droplets of glue on his skin.

You two were almost the same height, so it was rather simple.

Once you finished placing the glue on one cheek, you started applying the gems with tweezers. Your hands were a little shaky, but you managed to control yourself and you didn't drop any of them.

Josh kept so still that you almost didn't recognise him. Usually he was always fidgeting around like a curious child.

You tried not to think too much about his proximity, even though one or two times you almost lost yourself in his eyes.

You were afraid he could hear your heartbeat, since your heart was hammering in your chest, but you tried to push the thought away.

Once you were finished with his right cheek, you started with the other, gently turning his face towards you with shaky fingers.

He winked playfully to you and you genuinely laughed because he managed to break your concentration, but at the same time, helped you to ease your tension a bit.

You applied the glue to his skin and successfully placed the gems. Once you were finished, you exhaled a deep relieved breath and finally relaxed.

Then you remembered that Danny needed your help too, so nervousness slowly crept up on your mind again.

You texted him to come to the room and thirty seconds later he was there with the two of you.

Josh sat on the sofa with his phone as you helped Danny with his make-up.

If with Josh, the both of you could stand up while applying the gems, with Danny it was impossible.

You barely reached his shoulders so you asked him to sit down on the sofa.

You perched yourself on the armrest and you started working on his eyes. Since he chose black rhinestones that were very small and difficult to place, you had to move really close to his face to apply them exactly how he wanted them.

You tilted his face more against the back of the couch as you almost loomed over him, deep in concentration.

You could sense Josh's eyes burning on you, but you kept your concentration fixed on the task at hand.

Once you were finished, Danny thanked you and left you and Josh alone.

You sat down next to him with a sigh.

Then, silence filled the room.

After a moment, Josh spoke.

"I have changed my mind" he sighed and your head snapped in his direction.

"And you are telling me this now? We wasted two hour this morning to decide the design and half an hour now to apply them and now you decide that you don't like it?" you told him, shocked.

He genuinely laughed and wrapped a hand around your knee, squeezing it and keeping eye contact.

"No, love, I just want to add something, relax" he said chuckling and reassuring you.

He stood up from the couch and started rummaging inside the bag. He placed a few more rhinestones on the back of the paper cup and handed it to you.

You didn't know what he had in mind, so you almost choked when he spoke.

"What do you think… maybe we could add a line down my chest?" He said, masking his boldness with an innocent expression in his deep brown eyes, tracing a line on his smooth chest.

You laughed, but then your cheeks flushed deep red when you understood he was serious.

Your heart rate sped up exponentially.

You nodded in silence and grabbed the glue. With shaking fingers and ringing ears, you stared at the expanse of his exposed chest that his velvet gold jumpsuit left exposed.

You started placing the rhinestones from the hollow of his throat and proceeded downwards.

The more you moved closer to the zipper, the more your heart raced.

Once you were finished, you excused yourself and went outside to calm down a bit.

You just wanted to press him again he wall and…

You shook your head trying to push those thoughts away.

The cool breeze was still present and you felt immediately better, your flushed skin was slowly cooling and your heart was finally finding a moment of peace.

"Hey, love, how are you?" You jumped clutching a hand to your chest as Jake materialized in front of you from mid-darkness.

"Oh my God" you gasped.

"Sorry to disappoint you, it's just me" he chuckled.

"Very funny" you retorted rather abruptly and he raised his hands in defence.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He asked curiously.

"Nothing, just… please tell me you don't want me to place other rhinestones. They make me nauseous." You said groaning.

"Well, in reality, I was thinking I'd like some." He threatened.

"Really?" You asked, shoked by his words.

"Yeah" he said and then his tone turned sultry as he came closer to you to whisper "maybe down my…" he started and you stopped him immediately once you understood where the conversation was going and that he was messing with you.

"Jake!" You admonished him and he let out a belly laugh.

"You have a dirty mind, love, I was gonna say down my fingers" he winked.

You lowered your gaze on your watch and you almost gulped.

"You have half an hour to get ready. Please don't shred your stage outfits to pieces" you said, opening the door for him to enter, but staying outside.

"I am going to text Danny to come get ready" you said, grabbing your phone.

"Are you not coming in?" Jake asked.

"No, I'll wait outside while you all get ready" you answered matter-of-factly.

He came to the door and beckoned you to come closer to him.

"We could have fun in here, c'mon" he joked and winked.

You scoffed and shook your head, as you texted Danny.

Danny arrived running and carrying Sammy on his shoulders, the both of them laughing like crazy.

When you opened the door for them to enter, Josh grasped your wrist and tugged you inside with them.

You noticed that half of the rhinestones were missing from his face.

"Josh, what did you do? Where are the rhinestones? Please tell me you didn't change your mind twenty minutes before the show" you started rambling and he chuckled and grasped your shoulders, looking you directly in the eyes.

"No, no. I didn't change my mind." He said and bursted out laughing.

"You know me, I am an idiot, I dozed off on the couch and they got stuck to the cushion." He snickered.

You shook your head in disbelief.

"Let's reapply them, and please, this time try not to ruin them" you said while gathering the things you needed.

"Yes, Mum" he said in a condescending tone.

When you started reapplying them, you saw Jake approaching in your peripheral.

He was shirtless and had his phone out.

At that moment, Josh started acting and rambling about a "rhinestoned diary" and about the high art of applying rhinestones.

You hardly contained your laughter and you completed the task as he went on with his improvised performance.

When he didn't know what to say anymore, he flipped off the camera and Jake cut the video before starting to laugh.

Sam and Danny started laughing too, but you were interrupted by a knock on the door and the final call to the stage.

After the show, the boys were still buzzing with excitement at the little afterparty the owner of the venue had organized.

They were offered a tasting of fine Italian wines and they were more than happy to try all of them.

Once they were finished, you went back to the hotel with them and finally relaxed on the bed of your own room.

You were getting ready for bed when your phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Josh:

I made a mess with the jumpsuit, I need your help, please.

What can he possibly have done this time? You thought as you grabbed your phone and your sewing bag and padded down the corridor.

You knocked on his door and heard his muffled voice from the inside, telling you to come in.

When you opened the door, you saw him sitting on his bed with his jumpsuit slightly unzipped.

From where you were, it looked fine, but you were afraid of what the 'mess' he referred to in the text implied.

You closed the door and approached him, scanning the fabric for any damage.

"What happened?" You asked, in a whisper.

He looked at you and grinned.

"Nothing," he said, chuckling lightly.

"But you said…" you started taking but he interrupted you, patting the spot next to him on the bed.

"It was just an excuse to make you come here, I knew you wouldn't if I asked you without telling you it was an emergency" he said mischievously and you scoffed.

"That's not true" you retorted.

It was his turn to scoff, then he turned around and grabbed a paper box and two spoons.

"Do you like ice cream?" He asked rather innocently as he opened the container.

"Yes, of course" you answered and he handed you a spoon.

"Try this, then" he said sweetly.

"May I ask you where you got this?" You asked curious.

"We stole it" he confessed, biting his lip.

"What?" You gasped, outraged.

"Well, Jake stole it and we planned on eating it but then he told me he had an idea for a riff and went back to his room to write it down. That's why I have two spoons." He explained to you.

"And I didn't want to waste it, so…" he said and dipped the spoon inside the ice cream.

You did the same and almost moaned at the taste.

It was heavenly. The best Tiramisu flavoured gelato you have ever had.

"This is… so good" You told him and he nodded, taking another spoonful, humming at the rich taste.

You ate it in silence, save for the occasional hum of pleasure because of the ice cream.

You were sitting cross-legged in the center of the bed with the ice cream box in between the two of you.

This position allowed you to admire him.

The bedside table lamp was on, casting a warm golden glow on the right side of his body and creating a magical contrast with the cold bluish light coming from the moon outside, lighting up his left side.

He still had rhinestones on his skin. The little gems kept catching the light every time he moved.

The row he had down his chest glimmered with every inhale and exhale, shining golden or silver depending on which side he turned.

They were hypnotizing you, making it impossible for you to take your eyes off the smooth skin of his chest, exposed further by the unzipped fabric.

The jumpsuit he was wearing was velvety and embroidered with white roses linked by green thorny branches on an ocher background. That color complimented his tanned skin and golden brown eyes, making him almost shine. The rhinestones applied to the fabric added the final touch to it.

You were very proud of the work you had done with this one. And you loved it on him. The sharp v-neck was your idea and it looked heavenly on him.

He cleared his throat and you caught yourself staring. You blushed and dropped your gaze to the black comforter of his bed.

You didn't notice how close you were sitting, but as you locked gazes again you couldn't take your eyes off his.

He leaned imperceptibly closer and opened and closed his mouth like he wanted to say something.

Your brain was completely blank, you felt like you were under a spell.

His spell.

He lifted his right hand and grazed your cheek.

You were holding your breath, unable to move.

"You have some ice cream here" he whispered, slowly stroking his thumb over your bottom lip.

You licked your lip carefully, and his gaze grew darker.

"May I kiss you?" He asked breathlessly and you almost whined.

You nodded and his lips were on yours immediately, gentle and soft.

You felt your body flush with heat.

His right hand was still on your cheek, his thumb was leaving featherlight touches on your cheekbone.

Your hands went to his shoulders, keeping him close to you.

With a sigh, you parted your lips and allowed him to deepen the kiss. His tongue timidly licked your bottom lip and then touched yours with gentle strokes.

He tasted of Tiramisu and something else, softer, that you could only describe as Josh.

You hummed at his taste, just like you did moments before, while tasting the ice cream, and you felt the need to crawl closer to him.

In doing so, you tried to place the box out of the way on his nightstand without looking at what you were doing. So you involuntarily dipped your fingers in what was left of the ice cream and gasped into his mouth.

He broke the kiss to catch his breath, then grasped your wrist and wrapped his lips around your fingers, licking the remnants of ice cream off them, maintaining a burning eye contact.

When he let go of your hand, you grasped his face between yours and smashed your mouths together in a hungry kiss.

His hands found your hips and dragged you on top of him, without breaking the kiss, making you straddle his lap with your knees on either side of his hips.

You whimpered when you felt how hard he was and, in response, he pressed your hips more into his, groaning in your mouth.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, keeping him pressed to your mouth, your lips were turning swollen but you didn't care. You couldn't get enough of his kisses, his soft lips were skilled and delicious.

His hands on your hips guided you forward against him and you bit his bottom lip as his erection pressed against your center.

He repeated the motion, guiding you to slowly grind on him. Then, as you moved against him, his hands slid on your ass, squeezing it and guiding your movements.

A whine left the depths of your throat but was swallowed by him as your tongues danced together.

He broke the kiss and you both took a shuddering breath.

Your foreheads were pressed together as you tried to catch your breath.

He was the first one to speak.

"Stay with me tonight, please" he whispered with his eyes squeezed shut.

You grazed the flushed skin of his cheeks with your thumbs, right under the rhinestones, and whispered his name.

He opened his eyes, then, and looked at you with bated breath as he waited for you to answer him.

You didn't answer him immediately. You kissed him again and slowly traced your fingers down his throat, following the row of rhinestones on his chest, only to stop right where the zipper was.

You stopped there and a whimper escaped his swollen pink lips.

You met his gaze as you whispered back a simple word, right on his lips.

"Ok" you said as your fingers found the slider and slowly started to drag it downwards, opening the jumpsuit every inch more.

His hands made their way under your tshirt and started tracing the skin of your spine, upwards.

You heard him gasp as he discovered you weren't wearing a bra.

His fingers made their way to your front, his thumbs traced your sides and stopped right on the underside of your breasts.

He was about to ask for your permission, but you stopped him, quickly grasping his wrists and dragging his hands upwards, making his thumbs graze the soft skin of your nipples.

You moaned into his mouth as he rolled the hardened peaks under his pads.

Your hips kept moving against his and you both were growing impatient. You could feel wetness pool in your panties.

You had managed to unzip the jumpsuit almost all the way, exposing his tanned chest and a good portion of his happy trail.

You stroked it with your thumb and then moved upwards, splaying your hands on his chest and stroking the flushed skin. You reached his nipples and massaged them with trembling fingers.

It was his turn to moan this time and the sound made you shiver.

You wanted to hear it again.

"May I?" He asked with the hem of your tshirt between his fingers.

"Please" you whispered.

He tugged it slowly away from your body and whimpered, pressing his forehead on your collarbone.

He left a track of kisses down your sternum, and then wrapped his wet lips around one of your nipples, slowly kneading your other breast with gentle fingers.

This time, when you moaned, you felt him twitch in his pants.

Your hands reached for his shoulders again and slowly made the jumpsuit slide down his arms.

His chest was free and exposed now, the rhinestones there were glittering madly because of his heavy breathing.

He kissed you again and slowly one of his hands made its way between your legs, gently cupping your heat over the fabric of your shorts.

You bit his lip mid-kiss and he pressed harder.

"Please" you whimpered and he chuckled.

He dipped his fingers inside and felt how wet you were through your panties.

He pushed the wet fabric aside and, as he stroked your naked skin you leant your head on his shoulder, your nails digging in the skin of his biceps, making him hiss.

You dipped your thumb in his navel and then started palming him through the fabric of the jumpsuit that was laying bunched on his hips.

You dipped your fingers inside and stroked his patch of pubic hair with your thumb.

Then, everything happened so quickly that it made you feel dizzy.

You both got rid of your clothes in record time and resumed your previous position. His cock, hard and leaking, was pressed between your trembling bodies, now.

"Are you sure about this?" He whispered, his voice was sweet and shaking with need.

You leant your forehead against his and answered him.

"Yes, please, I need you. I have been dreaming about this since that night in your room" You confessed, blushing under his piercing gaze.

"Fuck, you don't even know how many times I thought about you, how many nights I made myself cum thinking about your mouth and the sweetness of your cunt." He revealed breathlessly.

You kissed him again and he brought you closer to him with the grip of his hands on your ass.

Your chests were pressed together now, rising and falling with heavy breaths.

He was the first to speak, calling your name like it was the sweetest word in the world, his eyes boring holes into yours.

"Please, fuck me" he whispered and you immediately wrapped a hand around his cock, gifting him with gentle strokes, and admiring without shame how he looked encompassed in your shaking hand.

Your head snapped up when a pained curse escaped him.

"Fuck, I don't have condoms" he whispered, defeated, with his eyes squeezed shut, as he leant his head back against the headboard with a low thud.

You felt like you were moving in slow motion. You moved closer to his ear and grazed the little silver loop he wore in his earlobe with your teeth, tugging lightly and making him whimper.

"I am on birth control. And I am clean. Honestly, I don't even remember when was the last time I had sex." You realized what you said and you blushed, furiously.

An imperceptible sigh left his lips and he kissed the tip of your nose.

"No need to blush, love. I am going to take good care of you if you'll let me. I am clean too, last time I had sex was ages ago for me, too, so don't be embarrassed." He said as his fingers traced up and down your spine.

"You are really beautiful, did you know that?" He complimented you and your cheeks were even more aflame than before.

You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing his soft skin. Then you licked a slow stripe from his sternum to the hollow of his throat, following the line of rhinestones, feeling the gems under your tongue.

He whined low in his chest at your action.

"I could tell you the same, Josh" you whispered into his neck, your lips grazing the protruding vein on the side of his throat.

"Are you really sure about this?" He asked sincerely.

"Please, I need you" you answered him.

With the grip he had on your hips he pushed you upwards so that he had to crane his neck to look into your eyes. He looked amazing like that.

He kissed your sternum and dragged the tip of his cock between your wet folds with barely any pressure.

It was just a featherlight touch, but it had you shudder with the promise of what was to come.

He stroked your clit a few times with it and then dipped lower.

Eyes in eyes, you pressed against him just barely and you shivered with anticipation.

"Take your time, don't rush, love" he whispered and you let yourself press down a bit more, feeling his tip slide inside of you.

You both whimpered, you because of the slight sting you felt as he started stretching your walls and him because of the feeling of your wetness and warmth around him.

His hands kept you up and he was careful not to move and hurt you.

"Shh, it's ok, relax baby, breathe for me, remember? In and out, just like that night" he whispered soothingly into your hear.

You followed his instructions and kissed his neck as you let your body slowly sink down onto him.

His breath caught in his throat as your warmth encompassed his length.

You moved so slowly that none of you made a sound, but when he bottomed out inside of you you released a deep sigh that transformed into a moan.

"Good God above" he whimpered through gritted teeth, forehead pressing into your shoulder.

Your brain couldn't find words to describe how you were feeling so you let out a whine and a sob at the feeling of him so deep inside you.

Once you were ready, you experimentally rolled your hips forward and an unexpected moan left your lips. You felt him even deeper and involuntarily clenched around him.

He groaned and his hands flew to your hips, gripping you so hard he was going to leave marks.

You repeated the action and you both moaned in unison in each other's mouths. You kissed again, his tongue felt heavenly as it massaged your own. The kiss was slow and languid, just like the rhythm you two were keeping.

"You are so tight and warm, baby" he whispered onto your lips and you traced your pointed tongue around them, feeling his moustache tickle you.

An idea occurred to you, and you knew he would love it.

You gave him a quick kiss and then leaned backwards, planting your hands flat on the comforter between his parted legs, but keeping your hips flush against his.

He furrowed his brows at you, but you saw that confused expression leave his face in a heartbeat when you moved your hips forward slowly.

His face contorted in utmost pleasure when his eyes focused on where your bodies were meeting and he could see himself slowly slide out of you, glistening with your arousal, and then disappearing again deep inside of you.

His eyes met yours briefly and you winked, making a wicked smirk appear on his lips.

You kept moving like that as you both watched your bodies meet at a constant pace.

After a while, you decided to try something.

You gently brought your right foot on his right shoulder, spreading yourself even more for him and rolled your hips into his.

"Fuck, baby, this is so filthy" He cursed loudly.

You clenched around him and he groaned, picking up his pace slightly, keeping you in place with one hand on your hip and one behind himself, on the bed.

He turned his face towards your leg on his shoulder and he slowly started sucking a mark on the inside of your calf, then released your skin with a final bite.

His whines were more frequent now as he watched with rapt attention his cock slide in and out of your soaked entrance.

You were gripping the comforter between your fingers and as he started rolling his thumb against our clit, you released a high pitched whine and let your head loll backwards in pleasure.

Suddenly, the heel of his other hand pressed on your lower tummy and you tightened in a vice-like grip around him.

A series of curses and groans left his lips and his face contorted in a shocked expression as his orgasm washed over him, completely unexpected. A string of apologies followed suit, between groans of pleasure and whispers of your name.

You were close too, just a few more strokes would have brought you to your climax, but he had another idea.

In a matter of seconds, you were pushed backwards and you found yourself lying on your back with your head slightly dangling from the bed.

In record time, his face was buried between your legs, lapping at you with ardor.

Your whimpers turned into moans when he plunged two fingers inside of you, curling them repeatedly upwards in a fervent pace.

The slurping sounds you could hear as he sucked your clit into his mouth reminded you that he was tasting his own cum leaking from your folds. The thought brought you to your orgasm, quickly.

Your hands gripped his hair strongly, keeping him flush against you and you ground your hips against his mouth, clenching around his fingers.

The sensation was so intense that not a single sound left your lips.

When you were finally able to come down from the blinding pleasure, you whined and tried to pull away from his mouth as his hot tongue kept stroking your overstimulated clit. The tickling sensation of his facial hair between your legs was making you shiver and whimper.

Finally, he emerged from between your legs, with his cheeks flushed and his mouth and chin glistening with traces of your and his arousal that were sleeking his mustache and goatee completely.

He looked so sinful and yet so sweet.

The light of the moon was casting a silver glow on him and you noticed with a chuckle that the rhinestones were still on his skin.

Well, mostly.

His eyes met yours and he winked.

"We taste even better than that ice cream together" he whispered on your lower tummy and you groaned at the image his words brought back into your brain.

You didn't expect him to say something so filthy with the sweetest look into his eyes.

As you relaxed onto the bed, you felt your eyelids turn heavy.

The last thing you remember was the sight of the moon shining bright high in the sky and the featherlight feeling of his lips on your hip bone.

You woke up to the sound of little birds chirping very close.

You opened your eyes and the first thing you noticed was the faint pale blue light typical of a clear early morning, illuminating every surface of the room.

The sun wasn't up yet.

Your head was still slightly dangling off the side of the bed and from there you could see that a faint pink hue was slowly greeting the horizon, making the cold blue light turn warm every second more.

Just like your body.

You woke up feeling a little cold. The open window behind you was ajar, making the slightly crispy morning breeze stroke your skin gently.

That sensation was contrasting with the warmth enveloping your lower half.

You slowly raised your head from the mattress to investigate the reason and your body flushed all over with warmth, mirroring the warm pink tint of the sky that was slowly, but steadily, drowning out the cold blue light.

His body was still tangled with yours and draped over your lower half. His head was resting on your tummy, right under your navel and his mouth was so close to your mound that his warm breath was practically fanning over you with every breath he took, right between your legs, warming you all over.

You bit your lower lip as a wild smile twisted your features. Images of what had happened between the two of you that night were flashing behind your eyelids as you gently stroked his hair, combing his soft curls between your fingers.

After a while, he stirred.

The grip he had on your hips tightened as his eyes focused on his surroundings.

You inhaled sharply when he placed a little kiss on your tummy and then raised his head and eyes to greet you.

"Morning, beautiful" he whispered, his morning voice had you almost whimpering. The look in his eyes was so soft and his skin looked amazing in the pink light that was turning brighter every second more.

"Hi" you whispered, still stroking his hair and he purred like a cat at the feeling.

He started placing tender kisses all over your tummy, slowly inching upwards.

He continued his path on your sternum, on the hollow of your throat, finally landing on your lips. He left a little peck there and then followed the same path backwards, without breaking eye contact.

His hot breath made your skin prickle with goosebumps the more he descended.

He stopped between your legs and his eyes met yours.

You saw him lower himself between your legs and you felt his warm breath fanning over your core as he placed a little innocent kiss there.

Then, a whimper left your lips as the flat of his tongue delivered a painfully slow stroke, parting your lower lips and gently caressing your clit.

He hummed at your taste and crawled upwards to speak into your ear.

"Will you let me make you cum one more time, baby?" He whispered into your ear, making you bite your lower lip.

His forehead pressed against yours as he waited for your answer.

"Please, Josh" you whimpered back and you saw his eyes roll back upon hearing your plea.

"I want to make you cum on my cock this time, is this ok?" He asked once he had regained his composure.

You groaned at his words.

"Please, yes. I need you" you almost whined into his ear and he smiled sweetly.

His hands grasped your hips as helped you reposition yourself with your head on the pillow.

He kissed you and lowered his body onto yours. The warmth of his skin made your skin cover in goosebumps.

You made room for him, opening your legs and welcoming him between them and you gasped at the feeling of the tip of his already hard cock grazing your soaked folds.

Your hands were shaking as you placed them onto his back, losing yourself in his warmth and softness.

"Ready?" He asked and when you whispered a breathy 'yes' into his ear, he pressed gently inside of you.

A sob of pleasure left your lips as he bottomed out inside of you. Your legs wrapped around his hips instantly, sending him even deeper and keeping him flush against you.

The stretch his girth was providing was nothing short of delicious and it made your mouth water and your head feel dizzy.

Your fingers stared tracing up and down his spine and he started moving, gaining a shudder from you.

A breathy moan escaped your lips as he pushed out of you and it turned into a gasp when he pushed back inside, torturously slow.

He repeated the action, again and again, building a consistent rhythm.

He kept his thrusts slow and deep, but they were everything you had ever needed.

Your nails pressed in the soft skin of his back as the pleasure was building harshly inside of you.

He nudged your g-spot constantly, bringing you close quickly.

Too quickly.

You wanted him to fuck you just like that forever.

Your walls clenched around him and a low whimper left his lips.

"Please, Josh, don't stop" you whined into the skin of his neck.

"I wouldn't dream of it" he groaned, his lips met your ear and you clenched around him making him let out a low drawn-out whimper.

You were close and by the sound of his groans, that raised in volume the more you clenched around him, he was too.

He kissed you again, deeply. His tongue languidly stroked yours, stealing your breath away.

He grazed your bottom lip with his thumb and slowly pressed it inside your mouth.

You sucked it eagerly and saw his eyes roll back.

He was quick to bring it between your legs and met your clit, stroking it at a quick pace.

"Josh" you groaned, clawing at his back and tightening your legs even more around him.

He groaned and pressed his forehead against yours nodding.

"Me too, baby" he let out in a pained tone.

The sky outside was now painted in fiery reds, rich yellows and delicate shades of orange and pink that reflected on his skin, his wild hair and his irises, making him look like an enchanted creature.

It reminded you of the sun, which was mere seconds away from rising.

When the first crimson ray of sunshine glimmered inside the room and into his eyes, you both came, clinging onto each other for dear life.

Warmth spread into your body as his hot release painted your walls, making you feel like you were touching the stars with bare fingers.

Breathy moans and whimpers filled the room, replaced by ragged breaths when you both tried to calm down from an explosive orgasm.

He slumped on top of you and you wrapped yourself around him. You didn't want to let him go.

After a while he lifted his head and pressed his forehead against yours. You lost yourselves in each other eyes for a moment and then bursted out laughing.

"That was incredible" he said, nuzzling your nose with his and you nodded blushing.

He slowly pulled out of you and laid on the bed beside you, admiring the marvelous colors of the sky reflecting on the ceiling.

After a while, you felt his fingers graze your hand.

He grabbed it and brought it to his lips, pressing a gentle peck on the back of it.

You blushed at the simple gesture and he chuckled, turning towards you.

"We just had the most mindblowing sex ever and you blush for a simple kiss on the back of your hand?" He whispered with a heart stopping smile on his face.

You swatted his chest, but started laughing nonetheless at his words, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

"We should take a shower, before we leave for Vienne" you whispered into his skin and he groaned, not wanting to move.

"Just five more minutes" he said mirroring your position and hiding his face into your neck.

"We should get a move, your brothers will have your head if you are late again." You whispered and stood up.

"I will, on one condition" he bargained.

You looked at him with a suspicious look.

"If you shower with me, I'll stop complaining" he said, with a smirk.

"Ok, let's go" you told him rolling your eyes at him.

He relented with a huff and followed you to the bathroom.

You were the first one to emerge from the shower.

You padded into the room with only a towel around your body, admiring the way the warm morning light cascaded over things, casting intricate shadows.

You were about to let the towel fall on the floor and raid Josh's suitcase for something to wear when someone cleared their throat behind you.

You let out a loud screech and turned around so quickly your head was spinning.

Jake was sitting in the corner of the room on the armchair near one of the windows, looking at you with a playful smirk on his face.

"What the hell are you doing here, Jake?" You almost screamed.

"Looks like I am gaining some money" He chuckled as you looked at him with a confused expression on your face.

"How did you get in here?!" You asked looking at the door which was still locked.

"From the balcony, I'm in the room right next to this one" he said nonchalantly

You paled.

"You are telling me you leaped over the balcony? Are you crazy?" You asked him, shocked.

"It was fun" he said and winked.

"We are on the fourth floor, Jake!" You admonished him.

He just shrugged, the smirk never leaving his face. His eyes fixed on a spot on your thigh and his smirk turned smug.

"You have something there" he said, pointing at your leg.

You lowered your gaze and blushed when you noticed that halfway on the inside of your thigh there were two little rhinestones.

At that moment, Josh entered the room and greeted his brother like it was perfectly normal seeing him there with the door still locked.

He came closer to you and gave you a beaming smile.

"You could have told me I had rhinestones on my thighs" you whispered trying to avoid Jake eavesdropping.

"Why? They looked good there, with my cum dripping out of you and streaking your skin." He whispered nipping at your jaw.

You blushed wildly at his words and heard Jake chuckle.

"How are you, brother?" Josh asked Jake casually, like it was usual for him to show up in someone else's room completely unannounced.

"Really fine, actually. Sam owes me 50$" he said grinning and winked towards you.

"For what?" Josh asked, completely oblivious.

"For this" Jake answered motioning towards the two of you with his outstretched hand.

"What?!" You shouted.

"Don't get me wrong. We all knew this was going to happen sooner or later." He said motioning again to the two of you.

"Sam though that after you would have gone back to your room. But I bet on you staying the night." he said with a smug smirk.

You were turning every shade of crimson that existed and you scoffed outraged.

After a second, Josh started laughing like mad and the mere fact brought a smile to your lips.

You grabbed the black tshirt and grey boxers Josh handed you and you went to the bathroom to change.

When you came back Josh was nowhere to be seen.

"He's on the balcony" Jake said from his usual spot on the armchair in the corner of the room.

He stood and approached you with a smirk.

He was so close you could smell his body wash.

"Are you sure you chose the right twin, love?" He whispered into your ear.

#greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van smut #gvf fic #fanfic #josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka smut #josh gvf #josh kiszka

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free-for-all-fics · 9 months

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Phantom of the Opera (1943 Film) Prompts! Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of these ideas and I’d love to read it! 🎭🧡

1. Erique Claudin was madly in love with you in his younger years. He was a very handsome and eccentric man with a great talent for music. You soon became lovers and later told Erique you were with child as soon as the doctor confirmed it. Not wishing your baby to be a bastard and raised out of wedlock, you and Erique made plans to marry as soon as possible, before your stomach could possibly give you away. You later bore a beautiful daughter, Christine. Erique had composed a song for you during your courtship and later added a part for Christine after her birth. When she was little, Erique would play the violin while you’d rock her to sleep and sing an old lullaby that you both knew from Provence.

Unfortunately, you died when Christine was still very young, devastating Erique. He didn’t know what to do without you. You were dead and he was clueless when it came to raising a girl all by himself. Due to his demanding job in the Opera House Orchestra and your untimely death, he didn’t have the proper means to take care of Christine, who was only a baby or toddler at the time. He couldn’t raise her himself, so he either sent her to live with your family or put her up for adoption. Either way, he made sure she went to a good home. Whether it was your maiden name or her adoptive family’s name, she took the name DuBois and never knew of Erique’s true connection to her.

As she grew up, she resembled you more and more each day. Erique never found another love after you. Twenty years of you being gone, and he wished every day you were still with him. When Christine began her singing career as a chorus girl in the Opera, he put his entire fortune towards her education, anonymously funding her singing lessons. She was blessed with the gift of her mother’s voice and every time Erique heard her sing, he heard you. After he’s dismissed from the Orchestra due to his hand injury, he has to withdraw his support from Mademoiselle DuBois only for a little while, just until he can secure another position. But a series of tragic events lead to him committing murder and his face being burned by acid. A man who’s suffered so much loss would do practically anything for the love of his daughter, even kidnap her and try to force her to stay with him in his home in the underground sewers forever. Christine is the last vestige of you, his darling wife, and he can’t bear to lose her.

He tells Christine that he’s her father and he loves her. She’ll now sing all she wants, but only for him. He keeps a portrait of you in his lair and tells Christine all about her dearly departed mother as he reminisces on his much happier memories of being an aspiring musician. He was young and didn’t have much money or commercial success yet, a starving artist. But what little money he had would always be spent on a ticket to the theatre, just to see you. He was in love with you from the moment he first saw you on stage, so his earnings were well spent in his eyes. He could live without food or a roof over his head, but he couldn’t live without you.

“She was in a repertory company. the same actors and actresses doing different plays, a different play every night. First time I saw her, she was a singer who had a broken heart, a lot of sad songs. Had everybody in the theatre crying, whole ocean of tears.”

“I don't think I'd like that.”

“Yes, you would. Everybody did. Next night, she was a dancer. Whirling around the stage, sparkles in her hair, lighter than thistledown. Took my breath away just to watch her.”

“Dressed like that?”

“Yes, child. Artist didn't paint her as pretty as she was.”

“Did you see all her plays?”

“Every one of them. Not just once. The theatre was my courting place. I sat right in the middle of the front row every night, where she could see me. After, I went backstage. Was four days before she even said hello.”

“Oh. Then what?”

“Then it was the wonder, the glory, sunshine, and lightning all at the same time. After we learned we were expecting you, I came to the Paris Opera House to join the Orchestra. With my salary, I built us a house. I then went back and asked her to be my wife. When she said yes, I was so happy I was dumbstruck for an hour.”

“Why did she go away?”

“It's none of your business why.”

“I'm sorry.”

“She tried to retire and stay home to focus her energy on raising you, but there was nothing here but the house...No theatre, no people...no company except for the birds singing. As much as she loved you, she wasn't used to it. I didn’t get home from the Opera House until late in the night. She got the lonesomes so bad she couldn't stand it. Uh...she went away for a little...back on the stage again.”

“In Paris?”

“Ohh...other places. Mostly Paris. Uh, standing around here talking, the spiders will be gaining on me. Be cobwebs in here thicker than before. Come, sit. Listen while I play for you. Did you know I wrote this song?”

“No.”

“I did. That’s why I wanted to teach it to you, but it was not to be. These aren’t just notes, there’s something hidden in the music. These notes here, they represent you. They find their way into every song I play. This phrase…this is your mother.”

“Are you in the song?”

“Somewhere, but it’s not important. You and your mama are all I can hear when I sit down to play.”

2. Erique becomes creepily obsessed with you, a young woman who works in the Opera House and reminds him of Christine’s mother. He may or may not have been able to marry Christine’s mother, but he loved her greatly all the same. He tragically lost her either through her death or her falling out of love with him, and has since never been able to get over her. You encountered him a few times in the foyer, on the stage, or outside the Opera, but that’s all. You were so busy with your daily work that you didn’t have much time to acknowledge him beyond a polite hello in passing. Erique was deeply offended and driven into taking further action with you after being criticized by Signor Ferretti for his love of you. He believed that Ferretti spoke out of turn and dared to insult not just him, but you as well.

“Claudin, if you don’t mind me saying so, you’re a fool. A man of your age might secure a young girl like her if he happened to be the director of an opera company, but a poor violinist…”

How dare he doubt your love or the piano concerto he wrote for you! He may be a man of forty-eight years and past his prime, but you never treated him differently from other men just because of your significant age gap. You smiled at him in passing, happily accepted all of his courting gifts which he spent a fraction of his fortune on, etc. It was Signor Ferretti who was the fool for failing to see how deeply he loved you and how you loved him in return! Unbeknownst to Erique, you mistakenly thought his anonymous gifts were from another potential suitor, a handsome man who was closer to your age. You’ve never thought of Erique in such a way, but he’s too delusional in his fantasies of you to realize this. He secretly has a marble bust made in your likeness that he keeps in his room so he may gaze upon your lovely face while he’s composing. But soon the marble bust isn’t enough. He needs to have the real thing.

Following his first act of murder and tragic disfigurement from the acid, he begins his reign of terror as the Phantom. He steals the master key to the Opera House and, with that key in his possession, he can open 2,500 doors! To say nothing of thousands of closets and cabinets. He can hide everywhere, the entire police force couldn’t find him here. He unlocks your door and sneaks into your bedroom while you sleep. You’re in such a deep slumber that you barely stir while he strokes your cheek, moves your hair out of your face, and presses his nose against your skin to inhale the sweet scent of your perfume. Oh, his love! His wife! He leaves you with a brisk kiss and disappears back into the sewers. He has such big plans for you! Wonderful plans!

You start to notice a man’s shadow following you, but it always disappears before anyone else can see him. You start to hear a man’s voice speaking through the walls. From what he says, he sounds lovesick and it creeps you out. You try to warn others but no one else believes you except Vercheres. You develop insomnia and deep feelings of paranoia because of your fear and anxiety. When an opportune moment presents itself, Erique kidnaps you and takes you to his underground lair in the sewers, drugging you to ensure your cooperation. While you’re asleep, he puts a wedding ring on your finger and a matching one on his own. His young bride is a vision! So very beautiful, so very lovely!

“You’ll stay here with me, my wife, won’t you? It’s been so lonely without you but you’ve returned to me at last, haven’t you? We’ll be together forever. Now you’ll sing for me, and I’ll play. It’s beautiful down there. Beautiful. Come now, my darling one.”

“There's a piano in the Opera foyer. Let's go there. You play, and I'll sing for you.”

“But you don't understand. We can't go back there ever. It was I who made the chandelier fall. I for you, my love. But I warned them. I told them there'd be death and destruction if they didn't let you sing. Come. See? Didn't I tell you it was beautiful? You didn't know we had a lake all to ourselves, did you? They've poisoned your mind against me. That's why you're afraid. Look at our lake, dearest. You'll love it here when you get used to the dark. And you'll love the dark, too. It's friendly and peaceful. It brings rest and relief from pain. It's right under the Opera. The music comes down in the darkness, distills it, cleanses it of the suffering that made it. And it's all beauty. And life here is like a resurrection.”

He forces you to play along with his deluded fantasies, often believing you’re his lost love and calling you by her name. You’ve tried to tell him you weren’t her, and sometimes it works. In his moments of lucidity, he calls you by your real name. Those hours or days are much more bearable for you. Other times, however, his behavior is unpredictable and trying to break him out of his fantasies has yielded disastrous results that have frightened you terribly. You’ve had to tread very carefully not to set him off because his personality can flip at any moment. Claudin as the Phantom talks in an extremely gentle, husbandly manner to you and almost never raises his voice to anyone, which makes him even more chilling with the murders he commits.

“Is that any way to talk to the father of your children?”

“Children? What do you mean children? We have only one child.”

“No, my darling. We have many children.”

“My god, what have you done? Tell me, what have you done?!”

“Would you like to see our daughter? Would you like to see our Christine? Would you?”

“Yes!”

“My darling daughter, your mother has returned to us. Come, give her a kiss.” He’s kidnapped at least three children; a boy, a girl, and an infant. The girl resembles Christine when she was a child. Same colored hair hanging in ringlets, same eye color, same porcelain pale skin and red cheeks. He’s trying to recreate the family he wanted but could never have before Christine’s mother either left him or died. Oh, God.

3. Unbeknownst to either of you, you’re Christine DuBois’ twin sister and are both daughters of Erique Claudin. You were separated at birth after your father put you both up for adoption. Your mother was dead or otherwise gone, and Erique was clueless when it came to raising two girls. While Christine is an aspiring singer and sings in the chorus, you’re an aspiring ballerina and dance in the ensemble. Despite your respective talents, neither of you are given much opportunity to shine. You’re both kept to the background and overshadowed by the prima donna and prima ballerina. You both encounter Erique a few times in the foyer or on the stage or outside the Opera. He showed concern for Christine when he noticed she wasn’t on stage during the Act Three curtain call and asked if she was sick. Similarly, he does the same with you when he notices you’re missing from the stage. Why weren’t you there? Forgive him, but he’s been here so long that you - everybody and everything connected with the Opera is so much a part of his life. You weren’t ill, were you? You’re not in any trouble? Oh, it’s impertinent of him, he knows, but uh…

When Erique suffers an injury to his left hand that prevents him from the use of his fingers and negatively impacts his performance, he’s dismissed from the Paris Opera Orchestra. He no longer has the means to anonymously support either of you. Claudin has secretly spent all his fortune on yours and Christine's education, and he has no money left to go towards his forced retirement. He has to withdraw his financial support from both of you only for a little while, just until he can secure another position. But Signor Ferretti refuses to tutor Christine any further without proper compensation and your ballet instructor is the same. Why should either of them assume Claudin’s burden after he spent all his money on the two of you? The girls mean nothing to them.

But your careers mean more to Claudin than anything else. Neither you nor Christine can afford the lessons on your own. A month’s salary wouldn’t be enough to pay for one of your lessons. Desperate to provide for his darling daughters, he hopes to have his piano concerto published and receive a substantial advance for it. But a misunderstanding leads to Erique committing his first murder and getting his face burned by acid. This sets off a series of unfortunate events that turns him into the Opera Ghost. A man would do practically anything for the love of his daughters, even murder anyone who would get in the way of their careers.

He later tampers with Biancarolli's drink to make her fall asleep and unable to sing. Christine, her understudy, has to take her place on stage. Erique also sabotages the current prima ballerina by putting glass in her ballet shoes or otherwise breaking her feet/legs by creating a terrible accident on stage so that she cannot dance and you have to take her place. He’ll help both of you reach your full potential and you’ll become a great and famous ballerina, as Christine will become a great and famous singer. Biancarolli, who suspects that Garron and Christine are responsible for drugging her, orders Raoul to arrest them. The prima ballerina suspects you of causing her injury and orders your arrest as well. But Raoul says he cannot because there’s no evidence. Biancarolli and the prima ballerina both say they’ll forget the affair only if both you and Christine are replaced as understudies and your performances are not mentioned in the papers.

Both Biancarolli and the prima ballerina are later murdered, along with their maids. They’ve been strangled to death by the Phantom to make room for the unsuspecting Christine and you to take their places. He later kidnaps both of you and takes you down to his lair in the sewer tunnels, revealing that he’s your long-lost father and you’re sisters. Words cannot express how sorry he is for disappearing from your lives and not being able to watch you grow up. If he could’ve raised his daughters himself, he would’ve kept you both in a heartbeat. But he didn’t have the means to raise two girls alone, and needed to give both you and Christine your best chance. So with a heavy heart, he gave you both up to be adopted by other families when you were only a few months old. Now reunited, he wants all three of you to be together forever. A happy family, as you should be.

“You’ll stay here with me, my children, won’t you? It’s been so lonely without my girls but you’ve both come to me at last, haven’t you? Now, Christine, you’ll sing for me. Y/n, you’ll dance for me. I’ll play. We’ll be together forever. It’s beautiful down there. Beautiful. Come now, my little ones. There, you’re not frightened now, are you? You know I’ll not harm either of you, don’t you? How could I harm you? I’ve always helped you. Haven’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, you’ve always helped us.”

“Of course I have. Biancarolli knows. The former prima ballerina knows. She wouldn’t let you sing. She wouldn’t let you dance. They didn’t know how much I love you. Now they know. But it doesn’t matter now. Nothing matters except us. Now you’ll sing and dance all you want, but only for me. You will, won’t you, my darling daughters?”

“Of course…Father.”

4. You were born into a wealthy and well-connected family. Your father took the family on a tour in Europe where you were introduced to an English-born Parisian hostess, with whom you bonded. She was a stimulating hostess who didn’t care for her appearance, and while her ideas didn’t always agree with those of her guests, she was incapable of boring anyone. Her behavior was exasperating and eccentric and she had little respect for upper-class women, whom she regarded generally as inconsequential. She generally rejected female company and spent her time with male intellectuals. She made an exception, however, in the case of your family and you in particular. She demonstrated that women could be equal to men, an idea that you hadn’t learnt from your mother.

You were respectful of your family's opposition to you working as a nurse, only announcing your decision to enter the field. Despite the anger and distress of your mother and sister, you rejected the expected role for a woman of your status to become a wife and mother. You worked hard to educate yourself in the art and science of nursing, in the face of opposition from your family and the restrictive social code for affluent young women. After being confronted by two potential suitors who demanded you choose between them, you chose neither and pursued your nursing career unhindered by marriage prospects. You’re now working at the Opera House, as a literal theatre nurse. You take care of the performers and other staff in cases of fainting spells, accidents, sickness, or injury. Unlike your predecessor, you’re young, beautiful, and sweet-natured.

You met Erique Claudin and knew him only as a violinist in the orchestra. You encountered him a few times in the foyer or on the stage or outside the opera, but that’s all. He seemed eccentric but harmless. But over time, you found yourself wanting to take care of him. You’d notice how he’d keep odd hours and would hardly eat anything. Why doesn’t he get himself something to eat before the opera instead of keeping himself up all hours? You notice he has the same soup night after night, week after week. The Opera House staff gossip, falsely believing that his overdue debts is caused by him being a miser, and they complain about it.

“What that man does with his money is none of our business. If he wants to hoard it and starve to death, that’s his affair. But we hear he hasn’t paid his landlord for six weeks, and that’s as long as they’re going to wait before they toss him out onto the street.”

“What if he hasn’t any money? Maybe if they’ll be patient only just a little longer…”

“He hasn’t any money? After working for the Paris Opera all these years? What nonsense! What does he expect to do with his money? Bury it with him? If he does, they’ll dig him up and steal it. If he thinks he’s going to add a few francs to his fortune at the expense of others, he’s very much mistaken.”

An artistic genius he may be, but he wasn’t well-learned in the arts of the kitchen. He didn't do much more than toast cheese over bread and add a slice of already cooked meat to it since he couldn’t afford much else. So you cook him better, more savory meals using whatever’s leftover in the restaurant and still fresh enough. There was a roast chicken in the pantry and a previously made broth you found on the stove, so you made do with what you had. You made him another soup, but one that was full of cooked meat and vegetables. Sitting beside it on a plate was a chicken sandwich. You were unsure if he even drank tea, but still made him a cup with sugar cubes and cream on the side in case he wanted to add either.

Erik devoured the whole thing in seconds. Quickly setting the bowl of soup aside, he picked up the sandwich and savored the taste of the chicken, bread and mustard as it all came together inside his mouth. When that was finished, he happily over-sugared his tea and drank it down, feeling contently full for the first time in years. You worried he’d get a stomach ache and make himself sick from eating so fast, but you’re glad he enjoyed it. It seems he doesn’t eat a great deal, and that worries you. He should be eating and sleeping well since he works so hard. He’s very grateful to you.

“You’ve been very kind, you’ve been very patient. You’ll be rewarded for it, I promise you! Now please leave me alone.”

After Erique suffers an injury to the fingers of his left hand, he can only play simple melodies perfectly. He goes to you for help and you examine him. While you may or may not be able to determine the cause, you offer to provide physical therapy sessions, free of charge. You know he can’t afford medicine, but maybe this’ll help him a great deal. Perhaps his injury is only temporary, perhaps it’ll get better, but the aim of the Paris Opera is perfection. It’s with a heavy heart that the managers have Erique dismissed from the Orchestra. He’s been with the Opera a long time - twenty years. You wish you could do more to help him. You’re happy to care for him and he’s happy to play music for you in return, to show you his progress following your physical therapy sessions. He never sought more than a casual acquaintance with you but you become friends and, despite your significant age gap, you fall in love.

But then he commits murder and acid is thrown in his face, driving him to go into hiding in the labyrinthine sewers of the Opera House and begin his reign of terror as the Phantom. In his desperation to protect you and repay you for your kindness and time spent devoted to helping him convalesce, Erique would do anything for you, even murder. He’s so desperate for love and friendship that he may even kidnap you. Fortune had smiled upon him the night that you came to the Opera House, and he had savored every moment he had shared with you. You were his loyal caregiver and companion, when so many others had cast him aside. You had cooked for him, talked to him, and even laughed with him whenever he managed to gather the courage to tease you about something. You even allowed him to snuggle close to you as you read - never before had he enjoyed reading so much as he did with you. How could he possibly let someone come and take that away from him now? His darling daughter, Christine, will never care for him in his old age, but maybe you can. In your years working as a nurse, you’ve probably seen lots of gruesome and grisly injuries such as gunshot wounds, infections, amputations, etc., so he hopes you wouldn’t faint or reject him upon seeing his disfigured face. Even if nothing can be done for the acid burns he’s suffered, he still dreams of spending the rest of his life with you by his side.

5. You succesfully bring to the present time Erique Claudin, a violinist from the 19th century, with a homemade time machine. In the split seconds between when Raoul fired his gun and the underground sewers were collapsing, you saved Erique’s life by sending him here before he could be crushed to death from the falling rocks. The underground tunnels are caved in, and nobody would ever try to move all that rubble to recover Erique’s body. He was presumed dead and Christine was rescued. In his time, only his mask and violin were left behind. You try your best to hide and protect him from exposure while he’s given a second chance at life. He may choose a different name or alias to go by. Modern medicine, technology, and makeup may help him either fix his face or acquire a mask that almost seamlessly blends into his skin more, covering his acid scars and giving off the illusion of a perfect face. His unique talent, behavior, and personality puts him in the spotlight, making it only a matter of time until he’s discovered and what you’ve done comes to light. Annoyed by the current primo uomo of the modern day Paris Opera House, a group of stagehands plot to scare him away and give his position to the young understudy with a shared identity - the Phantom of the Opera. Oh no.

#phantom of the opera x reader #the phantom of the opera x reader #Erique Claudin #Erique Claudin x reader #phantom of the opera 1943 #phantom 1943 #Claude rains #Claude rains phantom #Claude rains phantom of the opera #musical prompts #random prompts #fic ideas #random fic ideas #pls tag me if you write any of these #i’d love to read it

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shefanispeculator · 9 months

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For every new star on the recording scene, there is at least one unheralded industry drone without whom that star might never have shone. In the case of Blake Shelton, who is about to receive his well-deserved Hollywood Walk of Fame star after more than two decades as one of country music’s best, there are probably more like a dozen heroes who made Blake’s incredible career possible.

One of those heroes is your humble Nashville correspondent, me. No, that’s the truth. Once or twice in your life the impossible hits you between the eyes and you need to be prepared if you want to turn it into pure sunshine before the inevitable eclipse drifts in.

One day in 1995 or 1996 I got a call from Jim Sharpe, then publisher of American Songwriter magazine. He had found this big kid from Oklahoma, best singer he’d ever heard, would I like to come by the office to hear him sing? “Why?” I asked. You see, I was trying to dodge what the gods were hurling at me. I was done with the music business. I would just be a waste of this kid’s time.

But a week or two later found me in Sharpe’s office shaking hands with this kid, six-foot-four, great looking, with a big, black cowboy hat, big black Takamine guitar, a voice so huge it shook the walls of Sharpe’s office, and a laugh to match.

I was hooked, and soon we were writing songs together every Tuesday.

But nothing further happened until a couple from California hired me to run their music publishing company. We signed Shelton to a publishing deal. And then nothing more happened. I learned that he’d already been turned down by labels all over Music Row, talent be damned.

Now comes the big twist in the story.

I’m not the hero, after all. The hero is a guy I’m about to call. Bobby Braddock has written or co-written many of country music’s biggest hits, including “He Stopped Loving Her Today,” “I Wanna Talk About Me,” “People Are Crazy,” “Golden Ring,” “Time Marches On” and “D-I-V-O-R-C-E.” He also produces terrific demos and he’s always wanted to produce records.

The call goes like this:

“Hello, Homer (his phone name is Homer, and mine is Jethro). I’ve got something I want you to hear.” I’m holding an old microcassette tape recorder in my right hand, and a telephone receiver in my left. This phone call is high-tech. I push the recorder flush against my telephone mouthpiece and press the start button. Homer listens to Blake sing for a little more than two minutes. When the tape has finished playing, Bobby speaks.

“The song is OK, but who’s that singer?”

“He’s 20 years old and we signed him a couple of months ago,” I reply.

“He sounds like a young Hank Jr. Can I meet him?”

The three of us met at Braddock’s house and Braddock and Shelton hit it off immediately. Braddock agreed to produce Shelton, and Braddock persuaded his publishing company, Sony/ATV Music, to pay for the session. That’s a big deal, to get a producer and publisher to put time and money into a session. But the hard part is not cutting the session — it’s getting a record company to love the session and sign the artist.

Armed with the fresh recording, Braddock hit the pavement. One label at a time. Fortunately, in 1998, there were still a lot of record labels left in Nashville.

“I took Blake’s CD all over town,” says Braddock. “RCA showed some interest, but they passed. Arista Records showed enough interest to request a showcase, and we gave it to them, then they passed. I was running out of record labels. The last label I went to was Giant Records, an affiliate of Warner Bros. Doug Johnson listened hard. And he said yes.”

Now life got tougher. Braddock produced an album by Shelton. Virtually everybody at the label loved it. Braddock, Shelton and a whole lot of other people waited for the album to be released. And they waited. People wondered why they waited.

Then Debbie Zavitson, a stalwart of Giant Records’ A&R department, received a CD from publisher Jana Talbot of a special song called “Austin,” written by David Kent and Kirsti Manna. Braddock, Shelton and a handful of great session players went to Sound Stage recording studio on Music Circle South and cut “Austin” and two other songs. Braddock recalls that the label had picked another song for the first single, but he had sent copies of the session to several friends and they felt that “Austin” was the hit. He took this new information from “the people,” and, he says, convinced the label to go with “Austin” instead. Then they waited, and while they waited, rumors circulated that Giant Records might soon be closing down.

“It took Giant three years to put out Blake’s record,” says Braddock, his brow furrowed in puzzlement over the memory. “And it never would have gotten out at all, if it hadn’t been for Fritz Kuhlman!”

Braddock would later refer to Kuhlman as “the promotion man who committed mutiny.” Kuhlman had heard the rumors about Giant, and while he was not a powerful executive at the label, he did have the ability to send out copies of “Austin” to country radio stations all over the country. And that’s just what he did, because he believed in “Austin.”

Stations began to play “Austin,” but Giant closed its doors anyway. By this time it didn’t matter. “Austin” was hot with or without a label. Giant’s parent company, Warner Bros., picked up the record and ran with it, and thanks to Kuhlman, “Austin” became a multi-week No. 1 country smash.

Country music had a brand new star. Over the next two decades, Shelton would pump out hit after hit, and become a national TV icon on the worldwide hit show “The Voice,” as well as a member of the venerable Grand Ole Opry. I can’t help but think of the many heroes it took to make it happen for Blake Shelton.

Of course there’s Shelton, with all that talent, heart and personality. Then there’s Bobby Braddock, one of Nashville’s greatest songwriters, listening to hundreds of other people’s songs in search of that special one for Shelton. And Braddock in the studio, hour after hour, with some of the world’s best studio musicians, background singers and studio engineers, pursuing the perfect record. Then cruising from label to label, determined to find a yes among all the inevitable no answers. And then there’s me, playing a cassette over the phone to my friend Braddock, who I thought was a genius in a recording studio.

And gutsy Kuhlman, on his own, mailing out CDs on a wing and a prayer.

Lots of other heroes, too, braving the stiff competition: promoters, publicists, A&R people, bookers, roadies, managers — and nobody outside the business knows their names. It took a lot of skill and experience to make a music industry in those days, and I like to think it still does.

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dollarbin · 9 months

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Dollar Bin #8:

Judy Collins' Fifth Album

Judy Collins had it rough.

Like just about everyone else in history, her songwriting could never compare with that of Joni Mitchell, Sandy Denny or Leonard Cohen; rather she introduced the world to those artists by covering Clouds, Who Knows Where the Time Goes and Susanne. Nearly 60 years later we're more than content to listen to Joni, Sandy and Leonard's own versions and forget all about poor Judy.

And her version of Amazing Grace is nice, sure, but comparing her take to Aretha Franklin's is as silly as comparing my writing to that of my famous brother.

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And no matter how many times she posed in the nude with odd, defiant joy Collins could never compete in the looks department with Linda Ronstadt. Who could? All Linda had to do was put on a Porky Pig tank top.

Collins couldn't even win the boyfriend war. Joan Baez claimed Bob Dylan long before his ship came in, so Collins had to shack up with none other than our forever nemesis Stephen Stills, her sweet blue eyes serving as the muse for one of his only good songs before he wandered off to forever suck.

So it's no wonder that the Dollar Bin is chock full of Judy Collins.

(Please note that I bought my copy for a mere 91 cents. And that was in the last year. After noting this, please join me in praise of the God of the Dollar Bin, from whom all blessings flow.)

Anyway, don't be fooled when you see Judy's Fifth Album lodged between Captain & Tennille's corpulent dogs and CS&N's schooner of certain destruction. Snap Fifth Album up; it's awesome.

So let's drop the needle!

Collins' spent her first four albums stuck in the Hootenanny Spin Cycle, producing an album every 6 months full of churning, seasick guitar work and strident, declarative singing. Baez's sound at the time is similar; like stage actors 25 years earlier who couldn't adjust to film's close ups, early 60's folk singers, Dylan excepted, all belt to the back row when in the studio. It's as if they are unsure how exactly this new fangeled thing called "amplification" works.

But with Fifth Album, recorded in 1965, Collins achieves comfort and ease before the microphone, setting the stage for every studio singer who's come since; she sings to us rather than at us, and every moment is wonderful.

Let's start with Thirsty Boots. I always wondered why Dylan covered the song, pretty terribly, for Self Portrait. Now I know. Bob wanted to sound like Judy.

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Equally great is her take on Mr. Tambourine Man. There's a lot to say about the track; here it is if you'd like to listen while I ramble.

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Dylan's original hit the street in March 65; the Byrds altered the world's axis with their cover a month later. Collins' version didn't come out until the next Fall but it's unclear when she actually recorded the song.

Without any proof, I'd argue that she laid her take down that same Spring. After all, she doesn't sing the song as if it's a Dylan or Byrds cover. Instead, it sounds like she heard Bob sing the song in her apartment one night, demanded the lyrics, then went into the studio and owned it on her own terms the next day.

Sure, Roger McGuinn, who'd served as a mediocre player and arranger for Collins on her previous studio record, invented that iconic 12 electric string sound. Sure, Dylan knew his way around a six string. But Collins straight up shreds on the guitar; no one else is playing for her here. Had she been born 20 or 30 years later and not been shackled by 60's and 70's sexism, it's easy to imagine Judy showing Kim Deal, Kristin Hersh, PJ Harvey and all the boygeniuses who followed how to rock.

There's a lot more to this record. Collins' does her trademark thing yet again, introducing the world to Gordon Lightfoot via her cover of Early Morning Rain. Yes, I know, Ian and Sylvia put out their version a month earlier. But who wants to listen to them when we could listen to Judy?

A year or so later she'd take her talent agent shtick to a whole other level by famously talking Leonard Cohen out of his reticence to even get on stage. Collins knew talent when she heard it, long before others. That's why she relegated Stills to bass in her band in the late 60's and never covered one of his crummy songs.

Let's end with perhaps the most obscure track on the record, The Coming of the Roads. I keep a list in my wallet of previously unknown-to-me artists to seek out whenever I'm deep in the Dollar Bin. Because of Collins' cover of this song, Billy Edd Wheeler is currently underlined on that list.

Dear friends, I hope you are all well. Thank you for reading. I hope your next hunt through the Dollar Bin turns up something half as beautiful as this track.

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#judy collins #bob dylan #the byrds #mr tamborine man #stephen stills still sucks #sandy denny #leonard cohen #gordon lightfoot #Youtube #linda ronstadt

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prairiesongserial · 1 year

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20.3

Friday turned her smile back on as she entered the lounge. The larger circle of conversation had broken up while she’d been on the deck; now, groups of three or four played games and chatted amongst themselves.

It was too bad John and Cody had left early–a subtle sign could have gotten her a private word with one of them. Friday thought about going looking for them to see what they thought about the first mate’s offer–but if she left the lounge, she might miss an opening to pull Val aside. He was the one she really wanted to talk to about the strange conversation she’d just had.

In her absence, Val had moved to one of the tables, where he watched a game of backgammon with a bored expression.

The players were Clovis Girard and Aravind Dumont. Friday had already decided she didn’t like Clovis. He wore a gold ring on every finger and three in each ear, and he tapped and fiddled with them incessantly. He snapped his fingers in a flourish every time he summoned his valet, sing-songing the man’s name three or four times in a row for however long it took for Etienne to appear at his side. Last night, Clovis had proven himself to be the type to insert himself into the conversation, even if he had nothing insightful to say. And if his comment didn’t get the reaction he wanted, he would say it again, as if he hadn’t been heard.

Aravind Dumont, Friday didn’t have much of an opinion about. He didn’t wear any jewelry, but every part of him from his suit down to his leather shoes was top quality. His soft smile was apparently unshakeable, because no matter what came out of Clovis’s mouth, there wasn’t as much as a twitch of annoyance in Aravind’s face. Friday hadn’t met Aravind’s wife last night, but she was here now, engaging Val in conversation while her husband played against Girard.

Friday slipped up to Val, resting an arm across his shoulders while she pretended to be interested in the game of backgammon. She quickly ascertained that Ernestine Dumont was dangerous. First, her pearls were real, and she wore a fortune’s worth on her wrists, around her neck, and in her ears. Ernestine was young, but sharp, and every friendly question she put to Val was a minefield. He was barely holding his own against each probe for detail about his line of work, his primary residence, his hobbies, and so on.

“I can’t believe you and your wife don’t have any help aboard, how are you managing?” Ernestine asked, her voice crisp and full of humor. She and Aravind shared an unfamiliar accent–and when they joined the French-speakers in a private joke, it was clear they weren’t as comfortable in the language.

Friday was about to answer for Val, when he replied, “What do we need help for? The service on the boat is fine.”

Ernestine giggled. “I suppose it might be entertaining to manage for yourself for a day or two–even the Dauphin is said to have a cottage where he disappears sometimes when it strikes his fancy to wash his own dishes. But for me, I really can’t see the appeal.”

This line of conversation had attracted the attention of another pair. d’Orléans wandered up with a teacup in hand, Casimir Brus by their side, holding the saucer. These two had been part of the late-night crowd last night, whereas the Dumonts had retired shortly before Friday had.

“You mustn’t tease the Lecters,” d’Orléans said magnanimously. “Not everyone shares your tastes.”

Today, d’Orléans was dressed in a chiffon shirt and peach satin skirt which hugged their hips before pooling elegantly at their feet. Their jewelry was gold, and they wore a ring with a pink stone on one finger. Next to d’Orléans’s warm coloring, Ernestine and her pearls looked washed out.

Friday almost didn’t recognize d’Orléans–last night, they’d preferred a more masculine mode. But d’Orléans’s long blond hair was the uniting factor. They gave Friday a friendly wink as they set their teacup on the saucer waiting in Casimir’s hands.

Ernestine’s gaze lingered on the exchange, before a prim smile formed on her lips.

“I’m just making conversation,” she said lightly. “It’s a valid question–why would I assume my new friends are as kinky as Barthélemy d’Orléans and C…”

“Just d’Orléans,” Casimir said.

Unphased by the faux pas, d’Orléans took their teacup back and shot Val a smile.

“Isn’t it boring to watch others play?” they asked Val. “Casimir wants to invite you to play him at chess again, he had such fun last night.”

Judging by Casimir’s disinterested expression, this was untrue. But he surprised Friday by glancing at the chessboard on the other side of the room.

Val stood up, and Friday stepped back to give him room to leave. It was a smart move–Ernestine was toying with him, so it was time to change conversation partners.

Unfortunately, that left Friday on her own for a while. She was bursting to tell Val about Ms. Écuyer’s offer to sneak the two of them off the ship–but there was still time. She just had to wait for the right moment.

In the meantime, she decided to snub Ernestine for another corner of the room where a group of four was having more fun than everyone else, talking loudly in a mix of French and English. Friday was acquainted with them all. There was Ansgarde Conti, a heavyset man who had been the first to kiss Friday’s hand and welcome her into the conversation last night. Then there were two women: first was Helene Capet, a dark-skinned woman with short braids that ended just under the ear. She wore a delicate smile, too graceful to laugh out loud at the kinds of jokes that were being told. She had been especially challenging to talk to last night, as her manners were flawless, drawing attention to every fumble on Friday’s part. Saïda d’Angoulême sat beside Helene. She presented a challenge of her own, fixing Friday with an icy stare when she came to sit down.

“Bon jour,” Friday said with a smile and a wink, triggering a halt in the conversation. She took the empty seat between Conti and the last member of their circle–Sacha Fortune. He was the only one that she hadn’t met until this afternoon, when Ms. Écuyer had called him over. He was dressed significantly more casually than everyone else in a shirt with a paisley pattern and white pants. He wore boat shoes without any socks.

Sitting between the men after having been snubbed by her husband last night was a bold move. It would probably annoy the women, who were almost unanimously annoyed by her already–save Helene, who, if she disliked Friday, had decided to be polite about it.

“Friday Lecter,” Sacha said with a smile. “We were just discussing our plans for the rest of the evening. Maybe you and your husband could join us for dinner.”

“Mr. Lecter may have a conflict,” d’Angoulême said, glancing over to the game of chess on the other side of the room before meeting Friday’s eyes. d’Orléans sat between Val and Casimir, leaning in to speak to Val while he deliberated over his next move.

Annoyance flashed across Friday’s face. Val might not mind being played with, but she did. Sacha clicked his tongue disapprovingly at d’Angoulême–and the woman’s expression changed at once. She went from cold to steaming mad, clearly biting her tongue.

“He’s free to make his own plans,” Friday said flippantly. “It’s so lovely to meet new people, and it’ll be over too soon–we must take full advantage.”

“Well said, well said,” Conti said, so jolly that he was possibly oblivious to d’Angoulême’s snipe. “We will count you in for dinner.”

“I am curious,” Friday began, relaxing her posture. “How far is it between Newfoundland and the mainland? I must know how many more dinner invitations I can expect.”

She landed her twinkling gaze on Sacha, who sighed, and with a wan smile, got to his feet.

“That would be a question for Ms. Écuyer. She’s the expert.” Sacha approached the bar, where a man in the ship’s service uniform was making a drink for Clovis Girard. Etienne waited to the side, ready to deliver it.

“Where is Ms. Écuyer? Surely not working?” Ernestine Dumont chimed in with a laugh. She twisted a finger through her string of pearls

“We were spoiled so far with her attention,” said Conti. “Are you getting a drink, Sacha? Get me a soda water, would you?”

The conversation flittered here and there for a while longer, Friday never getting her answer. d’Angoulême announced that she was hungry, and Helene Capet excused herself to follow her friend to the dining room, neither of them inviting anyone else to join them. It was a slight that Conti seemed to take to heart, but which made Sacha laugh.

“I guess I shouldn’t have spoken for the ladies,” Sacha said, still smiling. “Mrs. Lecter, would you join me and Mr. Conti for dinner?”

Friday spared a glance over her shoulder. Val was actually talking with d’Orléans–she watched his mouth form a full sentence.

“Valerie, I’m going to the dining room,” she announced imperiously. “Will you join?”

He looked up mid-sentence. He made no move to rise. He was about to turn her down, but Friday beat him to it.

“Never mind, finish your game,” she said.

She was beginning to feel nervous as she trailed behind Sacha and Conti. As Conti held the door open for her, she told herself that five in the morning was still plenty far away.

Dinner had turned into a long affair. The ship was a mammoth of different entertainments, and that included places to dine. Sacha and Conti had led her to a dining room on the opposite end of the ship, not the familiar one where she and Val had eaten breakfast. This dining room had white tablecloths and over-attentive service.

Friday had barely lifted her fork before the course in front of her was cleared and replaced by the next plate of artfully arranged food. The light was dim and romantic, but Sacha and Conti appeared not to notice the atmosphere. The conversation remained friendly, as if this was a perfectly natural setting for three new friends.

After what must have been a dozen courses, Friday caught a glimpse of the face of Conti’s watch and realized that it was already after ten. A waiter hovered over her shoulder to re-fill her glass of wine for the fourth or fifth time since they’d arrived hours ago.

Sacha and Conti seemed perfectly happy to sit as they were for several hours more. And they were such good conversationalists that Friday might not notice the time slip by.

Friday shifted subtly, her shoulder colliding with the waiter’s arm so that he tipped her glass of wine over, drenching the tablecloth along with Friday’s skirt.

Friday gasped in mock surprise. The waiter apologized as if his life depended on it–Friday felt a little bad. Working for the extravagantly wealthy, the poor man was probably used to being berated within an inch of his life over mistakes far less catastrophic than this one.

“Don’t think of it, don’t think of it,” Friday said, taking her napkin and dabbing at her ruined dress. She felt a chill run down her spine at the look on Conti’s face. His pleasant nature was completely absent, replaced by barely contained rage. Sacha, on the other hand, looked on the scene with bright eyes, as if spilled wine was the most interesting thing in the world.

“I think I’ll go back and change,” Friday said. “Thank you both for a lovely time.” Then, to the waiter, she added, “Please don’t apologize any more, really, it’s fine.”

As soon as she had excused herself, Conti switched to French and began to berate the waiter with language Friday presumed he did not wish to use in front of a lady guest.

Friday jogged down the halls until she finally found her way back to her and Val’s cabin. There was no sign of him, of course. She swore at herself for losing track of time as she quickly shimmied out of the spoiled dress. She flitted across the cabin in her slip, which also needed to be changed, if only she could find the spare. She really wasn’t used to wearing clothing like this. The dresses were all carefully draped layers of silk and gauze, and while they looked like they were made out of air, they were actually rather complicated and heavy.

Friday laid out another dress, this one white with blue trim, but paused. Instead, she dug out the most practical outfit from her new wardrobe: a pair of well-tailored pants and a tunic that was probably intended to be pajamas. She packed everything else up in her suitcase and set it by the door, then did the same with Val’s, though the only items he had unpacked were essential toiletries.

She paused before the door. She had goosebumps on her arms, as if she’d had a scare–but nothing had happened. She took a deep breath. She needed to get herself together. She would insist that Val come and speak with her in private, she’d fake a fight, give him no choice–somehow, she’d get him alone before five.

Friday returned to the lounge, expecting Val to have returned to one of the armchairs–but it appeared he, too, was still at dinner. For the first time since they’d set sail, the lounge was completely empty. The goosebumps returned to Friday’s arms. Hesitating for a second longer, she went over to the bar to order a drink.

“When did my husband go to dinner?” she asked the bartender haughtily.

“...a little while ago,” the bartender said. “Not sure exactly.”

“Did anyone mention which dining room?” she asked.

“No, Mrs. Lecter.”

Friday rolled her eyes. At the Ace of Spades, the staff knew every patron’s business right down to their mother’s middle name. She noticed how the bartender’s hand shook slightly as he poured out a shot of whiskey for her, and her opinion of him softened.

“Alright, don’t worry about it,” she said. She didn’t take the drink and left to track down her husband.

Except that every passenger seemed to have turned in for an early night. Val wasn’t in any of the dining rooms, although Friday did find the Dumonts still working through a bottle of wine, as well as Clovis Girard, who appeared to be stuck dining alone. Val wasn’t on the pool deck or in the atrium either. Friday had made up her mind to bang on John’s cabin door when she realized that she didn’t know which one was his. Annoyed that an hour of running up and down the ship had turned up with nothing, she finally stalked back to her cabin to collect her thoughts.

She could wait for him in the lounge, but what if he decided to come back to the cabin instead? They’d miss each other. Pacing at the end of the bed, Friday tripped over her own suitcase. She hissed in annoyance.

This was ridiculous. She took up her and Val’s suitcases by the handles and marched from her cabin, letting the door slam closed behind her. She was out of breath by the time she reached Ms. Écuyer’s cabin. It was removed from the passenger cabins, in the same section of the ship as the captain’s cabin and a restricted area. She dropped the suitcases loudly on the floor outside and banged her fist on Ms. Écuyer’s door. This wasn’t her idea of a good plan, but it hadn’t been her first choice.

“Ms. Écuyer, are you in there? I need to speak with you urgently,” she hollered. “Ms. Écuyer!”

It was alright if the first mate wasn’t there–the ruckus would eventually get her what she wanted. Friday pinched right under her eyes a few times, then resumed banging on Ms. Écuyer’s door, pleading for her to open the door at the top of her lungs.

“Mrs. Lecter, what’s the matter?”

Friday jumped when she heard the voice behind her. It was Conti, his face full of concern. When he saw her red eyes, he took a handkerchief from his breast pocket, which Friday took gratefully. She leaned back against Ms. Écuyer’s door.

“I’ve got to speak to the first mate urgently, it really can’t wait,” Friday said. She squeezed the handkerchief against her bottom lip, naturally drawing Conti’s attention there. Just then, Sacha came into view at the end of the hall, looking for the source of the commotion. He hurried when he saw Friday in distress.

“Friday?” he asked, looking between her and Conti. He glanced down to the suitcases at her feet. “What’s going on?”

“I’m afraid it’s a private matter,” she said, lifting the handkerchief under one eye and turning her face away. “If you would be so good as to help me find Ms. Écuyer…”

Conti and Sacha shared a look of distress.

They were spared from having to reply as another figure appeared at the end of the hall. The figure took a few steps, leaned against the wall for a moment, then continued toward the three of them. To Friday’s shock, she realized it was Val. He was trying to move quickly, but could barely keep his feet under him.

Friday fought the urge to run over to him, keeping herself planted in place. She stared openly, lowering the handkerchief from her face as she took him in. He came to a stop in front of her, then leaned heavily on Ms. Écuyer’s door, just a few inches away.

“Friday,” he said urgently. Friday’s eyes widened at the sight of him. He was dead drunk. He blinked down at her as if he was having trouble focusing. Not only that, but his shirt was rumpled and the collar was soaked in blood–so was the end of one sleeve. Friday could put two and two together–at least his nose didn’t look broken.

“You…what happened? Did you fight someone?” she asked, her tone harsh. The question spilled out before she could decide whether it was the best tactical choice. But it worked well enough. Conti and Sacha, caught in the middle of the awkward conversation, were forced to back off to the very edge of hearing distance–though they were still too nosy or chivalrous to actually leave.

“Um,” Val said. He grimaced, as if he was struggling to remember. He rubbed a hand over the side of his neck, then winced, lifting bloody fingers away from a scrape under his collar.

Well, she had him alone now, but Val was so drunk that there was no way he’d be able to have a serious conversation about whether or not they should try to leave the ship early. The whole thing was completely hopeless–Friday found herself on the verge of crying for real. She grit her teeth. Even though Val was here, she’d have to move ahead with the plan she’d set in motion.

“It doesn’t matter,” she snapped. “You can clean yourself up–I’m changing cabins. I’m sick of waiting up for you all night, while you do who knows what.”

Val gave her a confused look.

“Don’t cry,” he said, his brow furrowed. His mouth worked open and closed like he wanted to say something else. There was still a sharp, sober sort of urgency in his eyes.

Sacha interjected, his hands suddenly steadying the lightly swaying Val.

“Mon ami, Valerie–can I call you that? Are you hurt? Do you need a bandage?”

Val frowned. “I…yes.”

“Let me help you find one.” Sacha began to lead Val away, acting as a crutch for the much taller man. “Conti, do you mind…?”

Conti appeared at Friday’s side.

“I’ll arrange another cabin for you,” he said. He cleared his throat. “You don’t have to worry, Mrs. Lecter. Sacha and I will be discreet.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.”

Friday let him take her arm and walk her down the hall. Her thoughts were miles away–she barely heard what Conti said next. She wavered over whether she was making the right choice, giving up on leaving the ship early. Val hated when she decided things for him, but then again, he wasn’t exactly making it easy. And what about John and Cody? Trying to get their attention without spoiling their disguises would have been impossible, no matter what she tried. Or maybe she just hadn’t thought about it hard enough.

Conti had led her all the way down to the crew’s quarters, where he banged on the door.

“...New room for Mrs. Lecter,” he said quietly to the member of the crew who answered. Friday caught a glimpse of Cody through the door–he was trying to catch her eye. For the sake of keeping up appearances, Friday looked the other way.

“Why haven’t you called for Ms. Écuyer?” Friday asked Conti. “I must speak to her personally.”

“Surely the first mate shouldn’t be called away from her duties over the small matter of a room key,” Conti said. The crewman he’d just spoken to returned before Friday had the chance to reply, depositing her new key into Conti’s waiting hand.

Conti walked her all the way to the new cabin. He helped her bring her suitcases inside–really, her and Val’s suitcases. As he straightened, Friday noticed a wine stain on his shirt.

She dabbed the handkerchief that Conti had lent her against the spot, causing him to jolt in surprise.

“I’m sorry,” Friday said as he took the handkerchief back from her. “You have a spot from when I knocked over my glass. I’ve caused you a lot of trouble today.”

His expression softened again. He took the back of her hand and kissed it.

“Not to worry, Mrs. Lecter.”

They bid each other good night. With the closed door between her and the rest of the ship, Friday could breathe again. Right or wrong, she stayed in her new cabin for the rest of the night, restlessly looking out the porthole onto the choppy black water.

When she returned to the hall outside the first mate’s door at five past five in the morning, she could hear the distant sounds of cargo being loaded onto the ship. She wasn’t planning on leaving. She just had a bad feeling. Sure enough, even after half an hour of waiting, Ms. Écuyer did not make an appearance.

20.2 || 20.4

#story

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newmusicradionetwork · 4 months

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Lacy J. Dalton Releases Inspirational Song, “Summerland”

Singer-songwriter and outlaw original, Lacy J. Dalton, has finally recorded one of her most personal and poignant songs, “Summerland,” which is available today on all major streaming services in association with StarVista Music. Originally written for Dalton’s mother to bring her comfort as she was dying, the track carries an emotional and inspirational message, brimming with her trademark grit and a stirring mandolin solo. Although Lacy has performed the song for more than 17 years, she has never released it until now. M Music & Musicians Magazine premiered the song earlier today, and fans can now stream “Summerland” HERE. “I wrote this song for my mother when she was dying so she wouldn’t be afraid,” Lacy reveals, “and I got to sing it to her before she passed and again at her memorial. Since then it has helped a number of people. Most recently we had a friend who was passing and she listened to it every day until she died, and it gave her comfort.” Dalton signed with CBS Records in 1979 as an outlaw country artist. She hit the Top 20 that year with “Crazy Blue Eyes” and amassed a total of 16 Top 20 songs. More recently, she released the single “Devil By A Different Name,” addressing the many issues going on in the world and reminding us that we aren’t all that different. Lacy J. Dalton recently celebrated the 40th Anniversary of her hit signature single “16th Avenue.” Written by Thom Schuyler (Dalton, Kenny Rogers, Michael Martin Murphy), the lyrics, “God bless the boys who make the noise on 16th Avenue,” gave musical dreamers from around the world a true understanding of the music industry by showing them the significance of Nashville’s Music Row and that is where dreams could come true. Although things are different today, Lacy J. Dalton’s “16th Avenue” continues to offer hope to every songwriter or entertainer who has a dream of being heard and a place to go to chase it! Dalton has received several notable awards over the years including a certified Platinum record as the only female duet on Willie Nelson’s album, ‘Half Nelson.’ She was also awarded the highest award from the boards of Strictly Country Magazine and the Spirit Awards (one of only 4 times in 25 years the award was given out) for her independent CD ‘Last Wild Place Anthology.’ Most recently she received a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Josie Awards – the largest independent music awards show in the country. Lacy J. Dalton’s Upcoming Tour Dates: FEB 08 – Sun City Lincoln Hills / Lincoln, Calif. FEB 10 – El Campanil Theater / Antioch, Calif. FEB 11 – Private Show / Walnut Creek, Calif FEB 16 – Piper’s Opera House / Virginia City, Nev. APR 06 – Salinas Rodeo / Salinas, Calif. JUL 05 – Mammoth Lakes, Calif. SEP 21 – Starbright Theater / Las Vegas, Nev. SEP 23 – CPAC Community Performance & Art Center / Green Valley, Ariz. SEP 24 – Elgin Community Club / Elgin, Ariz. About Lacy J. Dalton: First hitting the Country Top-20 in 1979 with “Crazy Blue Eyes,” Dalton was one of the most successful female vocalists of the format during the 80s with the CMA-nominated anthem “16th Avenue,” as well as hits like “Takin’ It Easy,” “Everybody Makes Mistakes,” “Hillbilly Girl With The Blues,” and “Black Coffee.” During her career, she has collaborated with such Country Music Hall of Fame members as Bobby Bare, Glen Campbell, Willie Nelson, and George Jones. She toured with outlaws like Hank Williams Jr. at a time when it was very unusual for a woman to do so. She also toured for a long period of time with Willie Nelson and was the only female on his ‘Half Nelson’ album, which also included duets with Ray Charles, Merle Haggard, Carlos Santana, and Neil Young. Her most recent recorded work is the four-song EP ‘Scarecrow’ which is now available on all streaming music sites, and her single, “Devil By A Different Name.” In November, her very first studio recording, “The Jill Croston Album,” was made available for streaming for the first time since it was originally released in 1978. Dalton is a 2017 inductee of the North American Country Music Association International Hall of Fame. For more information, visit lacyjdalton.org and follow Lacy on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. About StarVista Music: StarVista Music offers artists and brands worldwide digital audio and video marketing, sales, and distribution, generating incremental income for artists and brand holders as well as driving global demand for artist repertoire via traditional promotion and aggressive social media development. With years of experience in distributing entertainment-based content and in live entertainment via sister company StarVista LIVE, StarVista Music is a trusted and effective marketing partner bringing world-class resources such as multi-channel marketing, publicity, in-house creative expertise, and long-standing industry relationships and marketing partnerships developed throughout our history. Suggested post: Lacy J. Dalton & #StarVistaMusic release #Summerland today! To listen/stream, visit lnk.to/LacyJDaltonSummerland Read the full article

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missgeniality · 3 years

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A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this! This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy!

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods.

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning.

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold.

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity.

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully.

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.”

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?”

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation.

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?”

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious.

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well.

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight?

BTS is on your flight?

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography.

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger.

BTS who?

Biggest boyband who?

You only listen to Frank Sinatra.

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally.

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours.

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help.

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved.

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could.

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back.

Aw, you are in trouble.

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face.

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true.

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth.

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you.

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you.

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to.

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all.

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile.

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously.

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean.

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.”

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..”

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in.

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb.

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.”

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told.

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep.

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began.

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you.

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you.

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you.

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family.

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen.

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request.

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement.

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.”

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck.

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart.

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him.

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon.

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.”

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence.

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car.

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you.

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that.

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of.

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far.

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode.

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma.

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this.

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong.

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do.

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall.

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!"

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!”

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor.

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so.

But you’re not anyone else.

He isn’t just anyone.

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two.

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours.

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century.

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind.

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours.

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation.

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end.

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark.

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.”

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible.

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken.

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him.

The elevator door opens, and people walk out.

But that’s not where your attention is.

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm.

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad.

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present.

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.”

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile.

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too.

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space.

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!”

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed.

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again.

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.”

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”.

The punctuation was not vocalized.

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself.

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there?

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna.

So far, no sign of him.

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far.

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode.

And then you hear it.

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but.

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck.

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight.

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight.

“Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement.

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is.

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart.

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.”

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first.

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own.

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes. “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.”

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter.

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?”

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight.

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger.

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware.

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer.

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue.

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch.

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates.

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?”

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air.

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative.

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?”

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress.

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured.

“On your knees.�� he commands.

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.”

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on.

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm.

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head.

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise.

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly.

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him.

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.”

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over.

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench.

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening.

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod.

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum.

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you.

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him.

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss.

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair.

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt.

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room.

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom.

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you.

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention.

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought.

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret.

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch.

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth.

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way.

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face.

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs.

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem.

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-”

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him.

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason.

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard.

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him.

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making.

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls.

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat.

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it.

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response.

“Go on baby, ride me.”

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better.

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!”

“That’s fucking right, only me.”

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away.

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve.

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full.

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high.

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face.

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!”

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.”

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way.

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole.

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs.

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core.

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours.

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.”

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon.

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart.

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.”

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness.

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy.

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance.

He finds none.

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go.

You inch closer.

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his.

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win.

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words.

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst.

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it.

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows. You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him.

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far.

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up.

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement.

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

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nightwishesworld · 3 years

Text

Life of Death

You’re gonna need tissues for this one folks! A huge thank you to @addictedtodinosaurs for allowing me to write this wonderful headcannon! Hope you guys enjoy!

Warning: Angst. Whole lot of angst

It hasn’t even been a day since Alcina’s world collapsed. Ethan Winters managed to flee Castle Dimitrescu with his life and topple the hierarchy Mother Miranda worked so hard to achieve. Everyone is gone; Angie, Moreau's house, Mother Miranda, even her baby brother Karl. They never stood a chance after the fall of the great Mother Miranda. Without her protection, they were left helpless. Of course, Ethan only saw them all as monsters; filthy bloodthirsty creatures that needed to be slain. That’s all anyone ever saw them as. They’re different so that must mean they’re wrong. They’re abnormally different from anything I’d ever seen so that automatically means they’re evil.

But they’re still a family. Lucky for Alcina, she never let herself depend on anyone other than herself. Well, except for her daughters.

She was wandering around the ruins of the castle in search of them. They were nowhere to be found since Ethan escaped. It was a grueling task but obviously, one that needed to be done. They need their mother’s tender love and care to nurse them back to health.

Cassandra was the first to be found. Naturally, she was found within the comfort of her basement. Where else would that silly girl be hiding? Just like Daniela, her bleeding seemed to have majorly stopped on its own. So all that was left for Alcina to do was bathe her and bandage her wounds. Alcina carried her upstairs to her bedroom slowly and carefully to not make her feel any sicker to her stomach. From there she bathed her and wrapped whatever wounds she had in delicate cloth before putting her to rest in her bed. Alcina tousled her wet hair before leaving in search of the rest of her brood.

Daniela was the easiest to find. She was left lying face down in the parlor soaked in a pool of her own blood. Her body was riddled with bullet holes to the point where her abdomen resembled Swiss Cheese. Alcina was quick to scoop her up and bring her upstairs to tend to her wounds. Until she got Daniela in the bath she used the ends of her dress to put pressure on her abdomen. Just like Cassandra, her bleeding seemed to have majorly stopped on its own. So all that was left for Alcina to do was bathe her and bandage her wounds.

Picking each individual bullet out of her body was an uphill battle, but Alcina was the eventual victor. Even better, she managed to not disturb her youngest’s slumber as she patched her up. Daniela was now free to rest as much as she needed in the sanctuary of her mother’s bed.

“What a mess we’re left with, hm? Don’t you worry about a thing my little Tasmanian Devil, Mother’s here now. I’ll protect you.”

The girls remained motionless as Alcina tucked Daniela in next to her sister.

Alcina watched as her little bundles of joy rested comfortably under the warm blankets and plush pillows. They look so sweet and at peace. It was rare for the matriarch to see them like this, but it always brought a smile to her face.

“You just rest now, my lovelies. I’m going to go find your sister so she can rest easy as well.” Alcina bends down and kisses each daughter on the forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

It took a few hours of searching to find her eldest daughter. Doing countless laps around the castle finally brought Alcina to explore the labyrinth of hidden passageways. There were a few times when said passageways brought her right back up to her bedroom. She wasn’t complaining too much though. Every time it happened she simply checked on her girls and reminded them how much she loves them.

Bela was by far the hardest to find. The sounds of scurrying behind a row of bookcases alerted Alcina to her presence. Following a single passageway eventually led Alcina to find the blonde buried from the chest down in rubble. The tunnel had collapsed from then on.

Alcina made quick work of removing the rock and rubble from her daughter's body. Rats fled back into their holes as she did so. The eldest Dimitrescu never moved even an inch. It took a while, but Alcina did manage to get her out in one piece. She whispered promises of a warm bath and offered to deep clean the dirt and dust out of her hair.

Bela couldn’t respond but Alcina knew she heard her. She could still sense her. She could sense all of them. They’re just weak, that’s all. They need as much rest as they can get.

It’s late evening by the time all three girls are bathed and tucked into bed. They were dressed in clean clothes and had their bandages changed again before Alcina crawled carefully into bed with them. She made sure to be extra careful when nudging them out of the way so she was in the middle; Bela on one side and Cassandra and Daniela on the other. Her arms wrapped around them all snugly.

It reminds Alcina of all the times the girls would burst into her room when they were little during a thunderstorm. All four of them would cuddle up just like this under the covers and either sing to them or read them a story.

“Tomorrow is a new day, my loves. We will start anew and we’ll be stronger than ever. I hope you sleep peacefully.”

The next morning comes slowly for Alcina. It’s quiet for once as the girls aren’t awake to cause mischief. Aching in her back and arms keeps her from stretching out. She smiled when she feels the girls are still snuggled up close to her.

“Good morning my darlings,” she says with a yawn. “How are we feeling today?”

Alcina kisses each daughter on the cheek and chooses not to notice how much more pale they were this morning. And certainly doesn’t recognize how stiff they were. She simply chalks it up to sleeping uncomfortably. After all, even she woke up with an aching back. Her arms wrapped around them must have really bothered them.

“It’s alright, girls. Take all the time you need to recover. You’ve been through quite the ordeal and need as much rest as you can get. I understand that. Mommy will be waiting for you right here to wake up. I’ll be the first thing you see when you open your bleary little eyes.”

The family lounged for the better half of the morning. Alcina takes her time stroking the hair of each of her girls’ hair and whispers words of comfort to them. “You’re so brave, my loves. And so strong; stronger than Mommy could ever hope to be.”

She notices a rather putrid smell coming from Daniela. One not caused by uncleanliness or a rotten meal, but something else entirely. Her immediate response is to change her bandages again, but can’t help but notice how pale Daniela had become overnight. Her lips were turning a shade of blue and the rest of her skin looked sickly. So did Cassandra and Daniela. Perhaps this is worse than simply recovering from injuries? Maybe....maybe they really were-

Alcina shook her head. They’ll wake up. Of course, they’ll wake up! They just need to rest extra long before they can really start to recover. So what if they get worse before they get better? At the end of the day, all that matters is that they do wake up. Then it’s smooth sailing from there.

The silence is suffocating. She feels the chill in her blood, coldness bringing the synapses of her brain to a standstill. Part of it is a pain, but one Alcina can endure. One she has to endure; for the sake of her daughters.

While she waited, Alcina called for a maid, the only one left, to fetch some documents from her private study that needed her attention.

They didn’t actually need her attention, of course. With the demise of Mother Miranda, the document's importance was nullified. But Alcina Dimitrescu is not the type of person to just sit around and do nothing. Especially when there are so many important things to do.

As soon as the maid steps into the room she understands what’s happening. She went through something strikingly similar when she had her miscarriage some years ago. Reality is a cruel plane of existence. Especially when you lose someone you loved suffering it with. It’s plain to see that her mistress is grieving her losses and she doesn’t have the heart to break whatever fantasies Lady Dimitrescu has built-in her head.

Instead, she chooses to play along. Delusional or not this was still Lady Dimitrescu, the woman will kill her if she tells her anything other than what she wants to hear. She gives a kind smile and curtsy to her Mistress and simply dies as she’s asked.

“Shall I fetch you some wine, My Lady?”

Alcina thought about it for a moment. It has been over 24 hours since she last fed and she was certainly craving sustenance. But ultimately decides against it in favor of her daughters.

“No. Keep what we have left safe for when my daughters wake. They’ll need their strength more than I’ll need mine.”

The maid waits a minute before trying again. She looks over at the girls still laying in bed. It’s obvious they are no longer there. She could smell the evidence of that from across the room.

“Very well, Lady Dimitrescu. I could send up a platter of-“

“Enough,” Alcina shouts but quickly catches herself from continuing. The girls don’t need to be disturbed by such a trivial matter. “Go make yourself useful and clean my daughters’ rooms. They’ll want them spotless when they wake up.”

The maid simply bows her head. “Of course, my Lady. Please forgive me.”

The next two weeks went on like this before the maid had enough. She wanted to help her mistress, she truly did, but there was nothing left for her here anymore. The last scraps of human food were officially gone and there was no reason to trek down to the village and come all the way back when she could just as easily take up residence down there. It was a gut-wrenching decision but it had to be done. She tried her best for Lady Dimitrescu and that’s all that mattered.

She slipped away in the dead of night. Normally the Lady would have any escapees hunted down and dragged back up to the castle only to be thrown in the basement. But there was no one to do that anymore. Heisenberg and his pack of lycans had perished long ago, even before the Lady’s daughters, and the Lady was too drained of emotions to care. Too weak to chase after her.

Alcina’s daughters are her everything. Every day she lived for them. She lived because of them.

Alcina took great pride in her tall stature. She is the image of beauty and elegance. The only real flaw in her design is its role in hunting down prey. You’d have to be blind or stupid to not see her coming after you. Even with her much larger strides, she wouldn’t be able to keep up. And Alcina Dimitrescu does not run. Prey is not worth running for.

So she depends on her daughters to hunt for her. They’re much more suited for the job; so young, and clever, and agile. They are her cubs and her, their lioness, too old to keep up with the hunting party.

Alcina looks at her girls and sees them as they truly are; dead. Lifeless corpses. Their bodies are decaying and cold. She has been changing the bed sheets every morning to keep away the maggots but failed to stop all of them. The smell of death is noxious even with all the windows open because Bela said she wanted to feel the crisp winter breeze.

“My girls,” Alcina sobs. “What have I done to you?”

She collapses at their bedside and finally allows herself to break down.

But looking up at them she still feels them. She can still feel their arms wrap around her shoulders as she cries. The smell of paint is still on Cassandra’s cloak and Daniela was sitting on the floor right next to her. The short ends of red hair tickled Alcina’s cheek. If they were truly gone, how is it she can still feel Bela kiss the top of her head and wrap her arms around her neck in an embrace?

“I never should have done this. How can I be so selfish? I never should have turned you to suffer as I have.” A new wave of tears blurred her vision. “What kind of mother am I?”

She knows she doesn’t have long now. How can she bring herself to care? Everyone she ever cared about was already gone. What’s the point of trying to survive without her dearest family, especially when she’s so close to being reunited. Alcina wiggles her way back under the covers and pulls her daughters close once more. She’s crying in earnest now, happy that her pain is almost over. Even now she can see her daughters playing together, maybe even with Uncle Karl somewhere in the far off distance.

A smile spreads to Alcina’s lips as she closes her eyes and simply waits for her turn to join in on the fun.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #tall vampire lady #Lady Dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #KARL #resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #mother miranda

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fictionalfics · 3 years

Note

I had an idea. Could you do a crossover thingy where Aizawa has a daughter and she goes missing and he comes in the next day looking worse than normal and then the broadcast gets sent out and Aizawa sees his daughter in it and he gets either happy she’s alive or sad because she’s in a war?

This is s great idea! I’ve never written a parent fic before, so this is quite a challenge. Hope it came out okay!

Title: Not This Time

Pairing: Dad!Aizawa x Daughter!Reader

!TW: VIOLENCE, KIDNAPPING, MENTIONS OF K*LLING, LIGHT ALCOHOL USE!

(Gifs not mine)

“Aizawa-sensei’s been sleeping a lot more than usual, have you noticed Iida-kun?” Midoriya looks at his classmate expectantly as they make their way to the dining hall.

It was true, their rugged teacher had been sleeping in class a lot more lately. He had barely greeted his class before the yellow sleeping bag made its appearance.

“I’m sure its nothing, Deku,” Ochako chimes in, “This is the first time in a while he’s taught a full class. Besides, you know who he has to deal with.“

Midoriya chuckles as his friend gestures to Kaminari, Bakugo and Kirishima - they didn’t mean to be, but they were one of the main sources of trouble in class 1-A.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

--------

Back kick. Block. Jump, kick, dodge. Bend the knees, feet to the floor. Breathe, start again.

The thick material of your scarf is tight around your palms as you dodge attack after attack. You hold your hand out and erase the enemy’s quirk, before landing a swift chop to the neck. Another one down. You handcuff them as fast as you can before dodging a beam of light. It just catches you ear, the scent of burnt hair becoming more intense as you roll to the side.

A stakeout operation gone wrong. A local gang that turned out to be something much bigger. You were fighting a war that had nearly run its course, and this mission was meant to be one of the last. That was, until your stakeout partner revealed she was working for the other team, a double agent.

That left you in this mess. You wished your dad was there with you right now, but he wasn’t. He’d taught you to cope on your own, you told yourself. You’d manage.

Smack!

-------

Three days. No text, no call, no you. Shouta had waited in the living room all night, sipping coffee to stay awake. It had been three days since you walked out the door with a great big smile on your face, saying goodbye as you left for work.

Ten years ago, the seemingly heartless man had taken you into his care after saving you from your burning orphanage. The hero saw himself in you, especially since your quirks were so similar. He trained you himself, teaching how to use the capture rope alongside your fists.

You had enrolled in Shiketsu High, in order to separate yourself from your dad, and started your work studies with a mid-ranked but successful pro in your second year.

Shouta was extremely proud of you, and made sure you knew it every single day.

But it was unlike you to stay out for days at a time without contact. The first night wasn’t so bad - maybe she’s at the bar with friends, I’ll see her in the morning, he thought to himself.

You weren’t there in the morning. He put it down to you staying over a friend’s house - he was up pretty early after all, so you’d be home later.

Nope. Nothing. He continued to make excuses up for you all night, and all the way into the morning too, only grabbing an hour’s sleep before leaving for work.

When he came home to an empty house for the third day in a row, he started to panic for real. Texted you every hour, on the hour. Called a couple of times. Called your workplace, to no avail.

6:30 on the clock. Shouta chugged the rest of his coffee and slung his work bag over his shoulder as he noted it was day four now. Work was going to be a long one.

------

Your ears rang as your former partner delivered another slap to your face.

“This would be over so much quicker if you told me where the boss is being held hostage, Y/N. You’re making this so hard for yourself!”

“Go to hell.”

Wack!

A scream held back in your throat, your teeth grind together as you fight through the pain. The edges of your vision began to go black, and you almost considered telling the gang everything.

------

Shouta’s thumb was over the send button when he heard your name on the local news.

Y/N Aizawa missing in action. Something about a fight against a gang, an ambush they said. No other details could be released for citizen safety.

The hero didn’t even realise he’d slid off the couch to kneel in front of the TV. Missing in action. He rested his forehead on the box, his hair sticking to the screen due to static.

Missing. You were missing.

His legs carried him to the agency you worked with. His voice demanded to see your boss, begged for the details of your whereabouts.

They wouldn’t tell him. “We cannot release details to the public, its for her safety as well as theirs,” your boss told him.

Shouta argued that he wasn’t the public, that he was a hero like you.

“There’s nothing more we can do, I’m afraid.”

-------

The ropes had begun to bite into your wrists as you hung from the ceiling. After deciding the initial interrogation was obsolete, the gang had taken you to a new building and strung you up. Your feet could almost touch the floor, but had given up trying to get free an hour ago. Possibly. You didn’t know how long you’d been there. You were sure you’d stayed awake, but even blinking felt like it took days in that dark room.

You strained your ears from information.

Move........found.....kill her.......risk? No......stupid.....

There wasn’t enough for you to piece together the crumbs of information. You were sure you were going to die at this point. So much potential, a great future ahead of you.

No, you can’t think like that! What would Dad do in this situation?

You couldn’t answer that one. Instead, you hummed a lullaby to yourself - your favourite that he used to sing to you if you’d had a nightmare. This entire situation was a bit of a nightmare, so you thought it was appropriate.

The door opened before you, the bright light bringing tears to your eyes.

-----

“She’s gotta be alright Shou, she’s tough! Besides, didn’t you go MIA all the time?”

Hizashi did his best to comfort his friend, handing him a small glass of whiskey, which Shouta drank in one. He slammed the glass to the table with a dull thud.

“That’s different Yamada. I knew where I was, and I was never gone for long. I don’t know where she is, and it’s been nearly a week.”

The blond runs his palm down his face, not wanting to admit the he feared the worst too.

“She’s a hero Shou, bad things happen. You know the dangers and she does too, she’s not dumb.”

“Another whiskey please.”

Hizashi refilled Shouta’s glass, and the liquid disappeared as quickly as he’d poured it.

“She’ll be okay Shou.”

------

Your arms were freed of their painful restraints as your friends occupied the gang and, summoning as much strength as you could, dragged yourself to your feet, using your peer as a crutch. Your head turned to watch your team take on the four or five people that had taken you hostage, silently celebrating as you limped to the exit.

“Sorry we took so long Y/N, it took us a while to figure out where they’d taken ya!”

A tired chuckle escaped you as your co-worker apologised. “At least you’re here now.” Your response wasn’t completely a joke, but you couldn’t blame them. This gang was good at hiding.

“The whole operation is gonna be extended, thanks to the newbie. We had no idea she was a double agent- it’s gonna set us back to square one!”

Double agent. You scolded yourself for not catching on in time. “I’m sorry, I should have figured out sooner. Now the entire mission’s been compromised.”

Your peer sat you in the back of an ambulance that had come along with the police.

“Don’t beat yourself up silly! Even us pros didn’t know, there was no way a student could have guessed!”

The fight was over relatively quickly, thankfully. After the criminals were handed over to the police for interrogation, you were escorted back to the agency to be patched up, and report to the higher-ups.

------

Eraser didn’t immediately jump up when the front door creaked open. He was a hundred miles away, trying to convince you to take a day off instead of going to work. You’d be home with him that way, smiling as you cooked your favourite meal in the kitchen. That smile... How badly he missed it.

He felt the couch sink next to him.

“Sorry I’m late Dad, I had one hell of a day at work!”

Dad? He snapped back to reality as the words sunk in. He looked to where the voice came from - his eyes traced it back to you. Covered in cuts and bruises, dark circles adorning your eyes, but you all the same.

“Y/N!” The dark haired man jumped up and lifted you into his arms. You giggled and squeezed him back, giddy with relief.

“Y/N Aizawa, you are grounded forever! What the hell happened to you?”

He set you down on the couch as you began to explain as much as you could, without giving away classified information.

“But I’m here now! I’ve got about a week to recover, because I wasn’t injured too badly, plus they did hold me in the recovery room for a day.”

“A week?” His shoulders slumped at the thought of you fighting. “They’re sending you back out there?”

“Yeah. The mission isn’t over yet, we have to dismantle them completely.”

Shouta ran a hand through his hair, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Promise me you won’t go missing again.”

“I can’t. You of all people should know that.”

“Humour me.”

Breaking eye contact, you sighed, before looking back at your father and smiling as wide as you could. “I won’t go missing this time Dad. I promise.”

“Good.” Shouta patted your head before standing up and making a beeline for the kitchen. “You’re still grounded forever.”

“But Dad!”

“No buts!”

“Even if I make you some coffee? Maybe cook some yakitori?”

“I may reconsider,” he chuckled. You always knew your way to his heart.

He loved his daughter so damn much.

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yourlocalfictionalenthusiast · 3 years

Text

IN LIFE, IN DEATH...

PART FIVE

:Masterlist:

Warnings: Swearing and angst, baby!

A/N: I just realized that the tags on Part Four got messed up so i'm sorry for everyone that didn't get tagged! <3

---

June 1994

“I can do this.”

You mumbled to yourself as you paced in the sand, rubbing your sweaty palms against the leg of your jeans.

From your spot ‘backstage’ area, you could see the crowd as they waited for the next band, and it was huge. Huge enough to where any other day, you would’ve been buzzing with excitement, unable to sit still until you got behind your microphone. You would’ve been nauseous for a whole different reason.

But today was different.

Today you were singing a new song that you had spent weeks writing. The boys helped with the melody here and there, but it was the first whole song you had written in years, and at the end of it was the highest note you’ve ever hit.

And you had gotten through it perfectly every time you practiced it and you knew there was no way for you to be prepared, but there was still a nagging voice in the back of your head that you couldn’t shake.

“Hey.” Alex appeared at your side with a sympathetic smile on his face, instantly recognizing your pacing as a cry for help; considering it was a habit he picked up from you. “You need anything? Water? Aspirin?”

“A puppy?” Reggie chimed in.

“To punch Luke?” Bobby asked.

“Dude!” Luke protested, shoving Bobby’s arm before stepping in front of you and resting his hands on your shoulders, his thumbs tracing slow circles on your collarbones in a way that was supposed to be soothing but only added to the mosh pit in your stomach. “(Y/n), you know this song inside and out. I’ve seen you kill it dozens of times with my own eyes.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Luke cut you off with an insistent look and a shake of his head. “No. No more doubting yourself, okay?”

“You kids are up next.” A gruff voice announced from backstage, and you took a deep breath as you nodded, looking up at Luke with a weak smile.

“You’ll be there to take over if I hurl everywhere, right?” You joked.

“You’re not gonna hurl.” Luke laughed, dropping his hands from your shoulders and wrapping one around your wrist. “But, of course I will. Now, ‘c’mon!”

He started walking towards the stage, dragging you with him. When you passed Alex’s drum set, his eyes drifted down to Luke’s grip on your wrist and he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. You barely had time to flip him off before you arrived at Luke’s microphone.

He smiled as he dropped his hand to tug his guitar strap over his head. “I’m serious. You got this.”

“Thanks, Luke.” You mouthed to him as you walked to the center of the stage, positioning yourself behind your mic.

“How are we doing tonight?” The announcer asked over the speakers and the crowd cheered. “Hey everybody! Welcome to our annual ‘Sunshine Showcase’ where we hit you with the hottest new music in L.A. Everybody give it up for our next band: ‘Sunset Curve’!”

The bright lights at the edge of the stage switched from a dim white to bright red and yellow, casting a faint orange glow across the stage, mixing with the color of the disappearing sun. Alex started a steady rhythm, catching the crowd’s attention. Luke and Bobby joined in, then Reggie.

Then it was time for you to sing.

Your voice started out a little shaky as you sang the first few lines, but it slowly got steadier as you approached the chorus and by the second verse, you got completely lost in the music, bouncing and bobbing your head.

As the second chorus came around, you felt yourself getting nervous again. So you whipped around and met Alex’s eyes. He smiled reassuringly and twirled his drumsticks around his fingers. Then faster than you could blink, Reggie was at your side, giving you his signature goofy smile as he played along.

You threw your arm over his shoulder and bump him with your hip, sending him back to his spot and making a few people in the front row laugh.

Then Alex’s drumming quieted as the bridge came up. You willed yourself not to throw up as you pull your microphone off its stand and crouched down to sing to the crowd.

1...

You kept your voice as steady as you could, giving them your best confident smile as you slowly picked yourself back up.

2...

The music got louder as it neared the end of the bridge and you took a deep breath to prepare for the high note, but it disappeared from your lungs when you realized that Luke had started walking towards you.

3...

Just as he stopped in front of you, the buildup stopped and you could feel everyone’s eyes on you as you closed yours and poured all your energy into the music.

You hit the note perfectly, even surprising yourself a little when you held it longer than you ever had in practice. The crowd erupted in cheers after the note ended, but you kept your eyes closed as you soaked up the moment.

When you finally opened them again, Luke was right next to you, an amazed look on his face. Suddenly, you were grateful for the bright lights covering your face because you were definitely blushing.

The backup for the chorus started up again, but everyone else stopped singing, leaving it up to you and Luke. You held your microphone out so you could both be heard over the cheering. Usually, you all tried to interact with the crowd as much as possible, especially Luke. But his eyes never left yours, not even to look down as he played.

They were so bright and filled with so much intensity that it was hard not to get caught up in moments like this. It wasn’t unusual for you and Luke to sing together and pretend to flirt. The crowd always ate it up and it was pretty fun in the moment. But it always crushed you when the music stopped and you were reminded that it was all for show.

The last note rang out and you let out something between a shaky breath and a relieved laugh. While the boys grabbed their instruments, you walked through the backstage curtain and jumped onto the ground, the adrenaline still racing through you.

“That was awesome!” Reggie said enthusiastically as he tackled you in a hug.

“Yeah, you killed it, (Y/n)!” Alex raised his hand to give you a high five, but his eyes were focused on something behind you. You turned to see what he was looking at, but all you saw was a blur of shaggy brown hair and a grin before a pair of hands lifted you into the air.

“You did it, Squeaks!” Luke cheered as he spun you around, making your head spin. “I told you that you weren’t gonna hurl.”

“I still might if you don’t put me down!” You managed to say through a fit of laughter, holding on to his shoulders to secure yourself as he gently set you down.

You had expected him to pull away once you were back on the ground, but his hands stayed firmly on your waist and he tilted his head forward slightly so his forehead rested against yours.

The world around you slowed down, and you had to put effort into catching your breath again.

“Get a room, guys.” Bobby called as he put his guitar back in it’s case, making Alex and Reggie laugh. You chuckled awkwardly as you pulled away, glaring at Bobby. Luke just smirked and leaned over to stick his finger in Bobby’s ear. “Gross! Dude, stop doing that.”

“Well, I’m starving.” Alex said suddenly, sending you a quick look over his shoulder and you knew he was trying to give you some time to freak out in peace. “Anyone want some pizza?”

The boys all nodded in agreement and started walking towards the parking lot towards Bobby’s car with their instruments in hand, but your feet stayed frozen in place. Your heart was racing as you stared down at the sand between your feet, one question filling up every corner of your mind.

Was it possible that Luke liked you back?

2020

If there was one thing you’ve learned from being a ghost: it’s that everything is unpredictable.

You had just started to accept that this was your ‘life’. That you would never tour the world, and perform in front of a crowd ever again. But then you sang with Julie in that gym, and everything in your world changed.

Again.

Your mind was overloaded with questions. Why can people see us now? And why do we only show up while playing with Julie? Why is the afterlife so confusing?

And one more question, that was less serious but equally as important.

Does Luke like Julie?

It had been plaguing you since last night, when Luke had disappeared into the Molina house and didn’t come out for an hour. He had taken his songbook with him, which you didn’t think anything of at the time. But now you know that he gave her ‘Bright’, one of the first songs you and Luke had ever written together.

And then again today, when she sang, Luke looked just as excited as he was when the two of you wrote it. You scolded yourself for thinking about this now when there were bigger things happening. But you couldn’t help but feel like the universe was hanging a giant sign in your face telling you to give up on Luke.

Across the room, Alex started pacing and you shook those thoughts from your head. You knew that if you were freaking out, then Alex was probably on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“I think he’s practicing his model strut.” Reggie whispered.

“He’s so nervous that it's making me nervous.” Luke agreed.

“Al?” You asked softly. “Are you okay?”

Alex sighed. “Okay. You guys know I don’t handle change well. Death? That was a change. Okay, then we became ghosts. Another change. And now we can be seen whenever we play with Julie. Big freaking change!”

“Yeah, but it was a good change.” Luke said. “With Julie, we can play on stage again and be the band we never got to be.”

Luke’s words felt like a punch to the stomach. Sure, maybe you guys never got famous when you were alive, but you were still a band. You still poured all your time, energy and ability into every song you made together. You knew that Luke was just excited and not thinking about his words. But it felt like another sign hitting you in the face.

“I just-” Alex let out a defeated sigh. “I just want to know why.”

“Forget why.” Luke shot up from the couch. “I think we should ask Julie to join Sunset Curve.”

“Yeah!” Reggie agreed. “I mean, with a new lead singer, this band would be legendary.”

And there was another punch.

“Dude.” You said, trying not to show how much that comment stung. You loved Reggie like a brother but sometimes you wished he thought things through a little more before he spoke.

“Hey! We’re the lead singers.” Luke crossed his arms petulantly.

Reggie raised his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying. She can make us visible! Without her, we’d just be like elevator music.”

Luke pouted. “Well, you don’t gotta be so mean about it.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Alex starting to pace again.

“Al.” You said, walking up to him and stopping him in his tracks.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Alex pushed his hair out of his face. his breathing was a little heavy. “I just…”

There was a moment of careful silence, like everyone was holding their breath, too scared of saying the wrong thing. You all knew how bad Alex’s anxiety could be, and while this wasn’t the most freaked out you had ever seen him, it was getting close.

“Hey,” You intertwined Alex’s arm in yours. “Let’s go for a walk, yeah? Clear our heads?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

You sent one last look over your shoulder to Reggie and Luke before you closed your eyes and concentrated on one of your favorite spots in the city. It was one of the first places you went to on your first night back.

Back in the 90's, it was one of your go-to spots when you just needed a place to breathe and sort through your thoughts.

The Walk of Fame.

The noise of the street filled your ears and opened your eyes, finding yourself in the middle of the sidewalk. Alex was right beside you, staring down at all the stars.

"Here? Really?"

You rolled your eyes. "Duh. It's where you and I had our first heart to heart, remember?"

Alex smiled as the memory played through your heads. It was a week after he came out to his parents and the tension in his house had slowly been building up until it was too much for him to handle. So you dragged him here.

"And I think it's time we had another one." You nudged him. "So, come on."

As the two of you walked through the streets of Hollywood arm in arm, it was like an invisible dam burst open and all the questions came pouring out.

After an hour, your head felt like it was going to explode if you kept thinking about all the crazy things that had happened since you got back. But there was still one question you needed to ask.

"Hey, Al?" You asked, making Alex hum in response. "Do you think that Luke likes Julie?"

"Yeah, I mean, I thought he was going to propose when he realized she can make us visible.” Alex said, his face dropping when he felt your arm tense in his. “No! Not like that. Shit, sorry. I-”

“It’s okay, Alex.” You said. You could see him cringing out of the corner of your eye and you knew he was probably beating himself up. “Maybe it’s a good thing, you know? Maybe it’ll be the push I need to finally move on.”

“But you can’t move on until you know how he feels.” Alex stopped abruptly, making you stop too.

“I think he’s been pretty clear."

“Has he?” Alex asked. “In case I missed it, you and Luke haven’t been talking much lately.”

You started to argue but then suddenly, a guy on a skateboard came barreling around the corner and ran right into Alex, making his arm fall out of yours as they both went crashing to the ground.

Alex slowly got back on his feet, groaning painfully. The other guy followed, sighing as he inspected his skateboard.

“Aw, man. You dinged my board.”

“I dinged your board? You almost ran me over! You’re lucky I didn’t-” The realization flashed in his eyes. “You ran me over.”

The skater looked just as confused as both of you when you asked, “You’re a ghost?”

“Yeah.” He took off his helmet, showing off his long hair. “Ever since I learned that skating in traffic was bad.”

Alex took in a sharp breath next to you and you smiled, knowing from the way his jaw dropped and he tripped over his words when the other guy tried to apologize that he was having a ‘gay panic’ moment.

“You guys are new to this whole ghost thing, huh?”

Alex was still a blushing mess but he seemed to find his voice. “Is it that obvious?”

“Totally.” The skater extended his hand out to Alex. “I’m Willie.”

“Alex.”

You introduced yourself quickly, then turned to Alex with a grin. Of course, you wanted to keep hanging with Alex, but it was time to be a good wing-woman. “Hey, I think I’m gonna go back to Cece’s for a while, but you should stay and get some information.”

Alex blushed again, clearly picking up on your intentions but he nodded.

“It was nice meeting you, Willie.” You said, waving goodbye but not before you raised your eyebrows at Alex to let him know that you were definitely going to be grilling him about his afternoon later.

Just like every other time you walked into the diner, you were hit with a wave of painful nostalgia.

On a day like this, you would’ve walked right through the kitchen door and straight into Cece’s arms, rambling on while she made you her special hot chocolate and talked it all out with you until it made sense.

But now, you’re stuck trying to figure everything out alone.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite waitress.” Teddy called out from behind the counter, dog-earing his book and setting it aside to give you his full attention.

“Dude, we just met.” You raised an eyebrow at him. “Isn’t it a little too early for shameless flirting?”

Teddy scoffed playfully. “It’s never too early for shameless flirting.”

You weren’t super inexperienced when it came to flirting, but it felt like you were in this moment. Sure, you and Luke flirted on stage all the time, but it wasn’t real. At least not for him. But you had gotten so used to it that someone being open about their feelings with you short-circuited your brain a little.

“So.” You said, looking down at this book on the counter. “The Great Gatsby?”

Teddy laughed. “Yeah, it’s kinda on my bucket list.”

“But you’re already dead.”

“Touché, Gorgeous.”

You sat there, talking about your lives, and deaths. Reluctantly, you told him that you died from a hotdog, which led to him declaring it to be the funniest death in history. The more you talked to Teddy, the better you felt. And before you knew it, it had been hours.

By the time you finally decided to leave, there was still a gaping, Luke-shaped hole in your heart. But you decided that maybe it was time to listen to the signs the universe- that Luke- was giving you and try to move on with your life.

Even if it meant letting go of your best friend.

In Life, In Death Taglist:

@ifilwtmfc @instabull @wanniiieeee @tenaciousperfectionunknown @nieauou @merceret @itismeasmolpotato @lilostif16 @dangerouslyclose @iainttakingshitfromnobody @givemebooksorgivemedeath @sunsetcurvedotmp3 @askgeoff

JATP Taglist:

@caitsymichelle13

(The strikethough means I can’t tag you)

Let me know if you want to be added!

#luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagine #julie molina #Reggie Peters #Alex Mercer #willie jatp #jatp fanfic

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starbornsinger · 3 years

Text

Nepenthe

Azriel x Gwyn one-shot (light angst, fluff)

Warning: ⚠️ ACOSF spoilers, mentions of abuse ⚠️

The day was not turning out as Azriel had originally anticipated. That much, at least, he had gathered. Now today wasn't like other unanticipated, unwelcome distractions. Those were the kinds he dreaded— days where he would return to the townhouse soaked in blood he wasn't sure belonged to him.

Those days haunted him on ones like this.

Yes, today was a different kind of unexpected. Rhysand had decidedly summoned him for lunch in his office, to discuss politics and prisoners and what color he and Feyre would paint the baby's room. It went in and out of Azriel's mind. Most things did, these days. The time after the war, after spending months trying to get those goddamn Illyrians back in line, it was taking its toll on him. His shadows, which curled behind his ears like tufts of dark hair, now seemed to swallow Azriel’s face whole, clenching around his body with an armored ferocity Rhysand was accustomed to.

Maybe, Azriel told himself, that was why he called him here. To see what he was up to. How he was doing. It annoyed him, when Rhys fluttered around him like a concerned mother hen, desperate to understand his feelings and thoughts.

He doubted he deserved to be cared for like that.

And maybe, he thought with a wry snort, it was why he had sent him on such a meaningless errand. A distraction, one he merely welcomed with indifference.

"There's a book," Rhys had drawled, leaning back in the chair pushed out from his onyx desk. Behind him, the portrait of his Mate seemed to glimmer with curiosity. "In the library beneath the House of Wind. A history book, about the royal bloodline. Feyre is making a family tree, and wishes to learn more about my ancestors. If you don't mind, I'd like you to retrieve it for me."

As though Azriel had nothing better to do. Truthfully, he didn't. But still he had replied slowly, his voice tight, "Can't you get it yourself? Or send Cass?" Rhysand only barked a laugh. When it came to his brother, Azriel knew he would do anything he asked. For his brother, he would have jumped into the Sidra if he had asked. It was beyond the duty to the High Lord with which Azriel regarded Rhysand; but that didn't mean he wouldn't give him grief for such a stupid task.

"No, shadowsinger," he had purred in reply, mouth stretching into a taunting grin. "I cannot. I'm far too busy looking at paint samples with my Mate. And besides, the priestesses like you best, don't they?" Rhys barked a laugh. Azriel opened his mouth to retort, to defend the way his shadows flinched, but he set his jaw tightly. The shadowsinger gave a subtle nod, then rose from his seat. A soft brushing of knuckles against his stony mental shields had him pausing in the doorway.

You can hide it, Rhys had said. You can hide many things from us. But you can't hide from me. You need this today.

Hide it, indeed.

Azriel huffed as he flew, wings beating against the cool summer breeze that rippled across his dark head. He needed to stretch his wings, to clear his head and focus on the warmth beating down on his back. The sun, hanging lazily in the afternoon sky, illuminated the blues and reds of his wings and cast his shadow over Velaris as he made his way to the library. He told himself he had only wanted to get it over with, and that was why he was moving so quickly, darting across the sky. That he wanted to go back to the townhouse and sulk. But Mother damn him, he couldn't stop that swell in his chest as he came nearer and nearer. That swell was akin to dying a joyous and euphoric death— there was no other way Azriel could accurately describe it. His heart pounded in anticipation at what he knew lay beyond those ancient doors.

Her.

Azriel had become accustomed to Gwyneth Berdara’s strange beauty and equally strange humour during their training; had grown to like her friendly nature and competitive, passionate spirit. If anything, he admired her. He might have even feared her. That cheerful female with copper hair that shined in the light of the sun and moon, both of which seemed to love her. They had spent months, moving side-by-side, grinning at each other across the ring while trying to slash the other with a sword.

Their encounters outside of training were brief, and conversations short. He supposed he wasn't one for talking, and allowed her to lead them in a dialogue. But as time went on, Azriel found the little smiles on her rosy lips now reflected on his, and the bright laughter that filled his ears now echoed softly in his own throat. With her, he felt his emotions bob to the surface, and for once, he didn't stop them.

From the moment he'd met Gwyn, she'd held Azriel's attention with a preternatural ability, and had caught him off guard more times than he'd like to admit. The shadowsinger, spymaster, king of shadows— taken by surprise by a young priestess.

His lips turned upward at the thought of her.

᯽

Azriel landed on the balcony of the House of Wind, his wings snapping behind him as he eased into a walk. His descent down the swirling staircase to the library was a silent one. Azriel had been to this athenaeum hundreds of times, far more than he could count, but it had never gotten easier.

The pain and sorrow he felt in the priestesses' sanctuary was suffocating, at times. Not because he had felt the same anguish himself, but because he had rescued many of them from it. Because the shadowsinger had seen the horrors they'd escaped from, and faltered, unknowing of what to say or do to offer comfort.

He remembered rescuing Gwyn. Azriel was the first of the Inner Circle to arrive. He remembered dragging his blade across the throat of the Hybern general who thought he had a claim to Gwyn, who thought he was worthy of even gracing her presence. His scarred hands shook even now with fury, fury and rage towards the soldiers who had defiled her home and her body.

Azriel knew though, it was nothing compared to the pain she must have felt. He couldn't bring himself to think of it. Every inch of him now trembled with that dark rage, the joy now vanished without a trace, and he clenched his fists— the fists of a killer, he thought bitterly. Distraction was a fruitless effort. They had hurt her, and he had made them pay with their lives.

He only wished that killing them might have eased her mind, as he hoped to. It didn't. Even now, he found himself staring at the wall late at night, wondering if those mental scars were healing.

Or if they were just as ugly and unavoidable as the ones he bore on his skin.

Melancholy filled him as he walked further into the forlorn depths of the ancient library. He seemed to disappear into it, willing the shadows nearby to whisk him away into oblivion.

᯽

The hymn sung during today’s dawn service had yet to leave Gwyn's mind. It was a soft, gentle song, full of joy and sorrow and hope— the beacon she needed today. When she had woken this morning, the heaviness of her heart had weighed on her with a particular viciousness. It had been difficult to rise, to dress in her familiar blue robes and run a brush through her tangles of copper hair.

But she had done it. A small victory. And she had dragged herself to morning service, as she did every day. It had taken her many months to work up the courage to attend after arriving initially. She couldn't bring herself to fill her heart with music, with love. Not when it was so ravaged by hate. Gwyn didn't know if she deserved to feel joy like that. But when she was through with feeling sorry for herself, through with feeling such overwhelming shame, she dragged herself to that first service and never looked back.

Now, she led the songs with a fervor she hadn't felt in the 2 years since Sangravah. Now, she was bursting with life. With passion. Although the shame had never quite left her, she was happier. Lighter. Gwyn was healing, and happy to do so.

Gwyn had suggested the priestesses sing an older selection of music today, one that cried love in the rawest of forms. It was in a language long forgotten, and the words that had been lost were replaced by lyrics in the common tongue. The song carried on long after the service had ended, caressing the dark confines of her mind and coaxing her out of her stupor.

Perhaps, she thought to herself with a small smile, it was magic. To her, music was magic.

And so Gwyn carried on with her day, pushing the cart that only seemed to get heavier and heavier as the hours flew by. She nodded to priestesses that passed by, and offered small smiles to those she recognized the scents of. The library was a quiet existence, save for the occasional conversation; so she filled the silence, humming and singing and tapping her fingers as she worked.

᯽

It was that soft singing that caught Azriel's attention as he stood before Clotho, his hands resting on the desk politely. Perhaps a reminder to those watching that he too, was damaged. A silent request to be accepted into their sacred space. He had asked politely about the book Rhysand had requested, and a silent prodding about the possibility of him seeking it out. With a shallow nod, Clotho permitted it, and waved a gnarled hand of dismission. She too, seemed to perk up at that singing, but merely shrugged when Az raised a brow. He studied her for a moment, before nodding and turning away. Clotho returned to her work without another word, but a secret smile ghosted her lips.

A few priestesses had indeed watched from afar, but quickly returned to their work as he approached the endless rows of books. Level Four, Section 3A, he repeated over and over. Level Four, Section 3A. Curiously, Azriel glanced over at the group of priestesses who now spoke quietly, and offered a rare, gentle smile to the group before descending down the spiral ramp to the next level.

Still that singing seemed to follow him, echoing off the stone walls.

It was, in simplest terms, the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. His shadows harmonized with the gorgeous melody, a reverence of the Mother like no other. The song called to Azriel with an intensity that made his blood tremble, and pulled him until his feet seemed to move on their own, down and down and down into those depths of darkness and light and beauty. He picked up speed, his heartbeat erratic as his mind echoed with that damn music.

When he reached the fourth level, he turned in the direction Section 3A, looking up at a nearby sign. But when he took the first step, his shadows nipped at him, grabbing him by the sleeve and tugging him in the opposite direction. Come, they whispered. Find her.

Azriel hesitated for a breath, glancing back at the sign, then obliged. He was walking blind, betraying every battle instinct that had drilled into him. Ignoring them, he let his shadows guide him with a racing heart, until he found the source.

Mere feet away, there she stood, her straight copper hair tied back by a simple blue ribbon, the same sapphire shade as his siphons. A few stray wisps of red were tucked behind her delicately pointed ears. His shadows wanted to curl around those pretty ears, to run their dark fingers through the silky strands of her perfect hair, but he quickly tugged on their leash before they could slip away from him. Gwyn's lips moved gently, her voice vibrating with a clarity he wasn't quite sure was possible for Fae— but she wasn't entirely Fae, was she?

This damned female would surely be the end of him.

He felt his knees wobble, as her voice waltzed towards him on a star-studded breeze. Azriel had heard beautiful singing before— had been to the theatre several times with Rhysand and the Inner Circle, had tapped his foot to the sound of street performers on the cobblestone pathways of Velaris. But this was nothing like them. She was casual, examining the spines of books and then tucking them into spots on the shelves, rearranging them until she was satisfied. Her musical prowess was a stark contrast to the sight of her; Mother, just seeing her standing there was a perfect melody that made his blood sang. The words that left her lips though, were something wholly magical.

Gwyn was confident in her singing, confident enough to do so in a near silent library where all listened and admired her talent. When Gwyneth Berdara sang, the troubles of the priestesses weren't simply forgotten. Instead, they became tangible, and beautiful, and raw. They became a song, a flawless execution of emotion, a dance of mourning and a waltz of life , all at once. It was a release; a rebirth. It was an almost laughably common occurrence for females to cry tears of relief during her performances, but one that gave Gwyn a swelling sense of pride.

In her songs, there was an honesty that only Mor had ever shown; it was all swirling together like she herself was Cauldron-blessed and the Mother was pouring Gwyn's soul into the world. Time had frozen for— well, Azriel wasn't sure for how long. The faelights flickered around them, two beings lost in the eternity of the library, one seemingly unaware of the other.

If Azriel hadn't known better, he might have admitted how much his heart had calmed. How his chest had warmed, and the heavy weight he had been feeling on his shoulders had slowly but surely vanished. But he dare not say a word, and instead, savored the moment in contented silence.

His shadows, on the other hand, were perfectly content to dance and harmonize alongside her. They hugged the shadow cast at her feet, their misty forms swaying between them. Azriel clenched his fist, and swallowed. Stop it, he tried to command them. And of course, they ignored him wholly. Gwyn's song came to a close, and she hummed the tune to herself as she pushed the cart a bit further down the aisle. The shadows followed, and Azriel took a silent step forward, beckoning them. You're supposed to listen me, you know. They laughed at him in reply.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to eavesdrop, shadowsinger?"

Azriel's heart stopped.

᯽

Gwyn had known Azriel was near the moment he had stepped foot into the library. She wasn't sure how or why, but something in her seemed to suddenly resonate— a feeling ringing inside her that she couldn't quite explain, and only seemed to grow louder and more intense.

Until it was behind her, and she swore she felt the most tender of brushes against her ear, tucking her hair back. A bit of darkness flickered in and out of the corner of her eye, and a smile formed on her lips. Gwyn welcomed his shadows, let them settle at her feet and dance to her song. She had always liked them, anyway. She had been humming throughout the day, but when she had felt that warmth in her blood, it was as though the voice of the Mother had whispered into the curve of her ear: Sing.

So she did.

Gwyn had heard Azriel's soft footsteps as they approached the rows of shelves on Level Four. It wasn't particularly hard to identify them; no other males outside of the Inner Circle were permitted to visit, and no other was as subtle about his movements as the shadowsinger was. Months of training and sparring had accustomed her to his preternatural stillness. Yes, Gwyn assured herself, she had become very familiar with him. Had deduced that it must be him. Nothing more than that.

She dare not admit that she would have felt him and his shadows even if she were blind and deaf.

So finally, Gwyn spoke. Her lips curled into a teasing smile, and she turned to face Azriel fully. And of course, there he was, standing at the end of the aisle as she had expected. What she hadn't expected however, was that his eyes would be as wide and mouth hanging open as it was. Gwyn blinked, the only indicator of surprise, before she soothed her expression into one of cool teasing. The High Lord's spymaster straightened up as well, setting his jaw tightly. He cast his gaze to the floor.

"Gwyn," was all he said in greeting.

"Azriel." Her teal eyes sparkled, and her freckles seemed to glow like stars in the faelight. "What brings you here? Surely not my singing." A soft laugh.

What he wanted to say was, Yes. It was you. You and that damn gorgeous voice. I couldn't hear anything but you. Couldn't think about anything else. Hell, I forget walking down here.

But instead, he simply answered, "Book."

A pause. Azriel's cheeks flared, and his shadows made to quickly hide his embarrassment. He coughed. "A book. For Rhysand. A— a history book. Clotho directed me to this level."

"Ah," replied Gwyn. There was no hint of judgement in her tone. At least she didn't think he was a moron. His shadows flicked towards her curiously. "I see. And what sort of history book could interest our mighty High Lord?"

Gwyn's grin was unrelenting, but Azriel was far too stiff to even look up at her. He had been caught. The shadowsinger, the fucking spymaster for the Night Court, had been caught red-handed by a young female. Cassian would have guffawed at the sight of him blushing like an idiot.

Gwyn picked up a particularly heavy book, standing on her toes to reach a higher shelf. She strained, but was determined to reach what was too high above her head. Without thinking, Azriel moved. His strides were smooth, powerful even, and he stood beside her. A comfortable distance away, he took hold of the book, and gently pried it from her hand. A silent request. She obliged, releasing her hold as his scarred fingers grazed hers. A tingling sensation crept up her body from that contact, while Az pushed the book into its slot effortlessly. Gwyn still remained on her toes, looking up at him as he seemingly towered over her. Yet, she was not afraid of him. It was impossible to be, not when he was so gentle, and so strong, and had saved her life—

"Family history," he clarified. His voice was a low caress. "For Feyre." Azriel's hand lingered on the shelf high above her for a moment, a finger trailing slowly down the cracked spine of the book. Gwyn's eyes darted from his face to the book, then back to his face. A moment seemed to stretch into a thousand tiny moments that burned into his mind like etchings on a cave: face, so smooth and gentle, yet lively; plush, pink lips that curved upwards, that seemed to have a magnetic pull to his. If he leaned down far enough, his mouth might have met hers. Gods, she was divine. As expected of a priestess, he supposed.

He took in the rest of her face: a strong, stubborn chin, with equally opposing gentle eyes, that flared with surprise once more. He sensed a gradual change in her scent, one he didn't recognize. Gwyn's freckled face flushed pink, and Az worried that he might have overstepped her boundaries.

So he retracted his arm, and took a step back. The heels of Gwyn’s silk-slippered feet lowered to the floor. The male ran a scarred hand through his dark hair, and Gwyn tracked the movement, her eyes catching on every strand and wave of his silken locks. Her face seemed a bit rosier than it had before. He swore silently, worried he had upset her.

"Thank you," Gwyn said rather suddenly, as though snapping out of a daze. The faint blush did not leave her cheeks, though. Her hand drifted to her necklace, fiddling with it and zipping the small flower pendant along the chain. He only stole a glance at her, not wanting to stare too long and make her uncomfortable. But seeing her in that necklace, touching it so affectionately... Az felt his mind ease into a calm. With Gwyn, he felt absolved. Even for just a moment.

"Would you mind helping me? Find the book, I mean." Azriel asked, jerking his chin towards the section. Thinking for a moment, he quickly added, "That is, if you're not too busy."

Gwyn halted, and chewed on her lip. She glanced up at the other floors, as though looking at something in quiet consideration. then returned her gaze to him. There was no way she could say no— not when he made the sorrow in her mind settle. Not when he made her feel so... happy.

"I would love to."

Something about that smile… It was so disarming. He had no defenses, no stealth, no plans for her. Even his shadows, usually astute guard dogs, had rolled over to bear their bellies to her.

They liked her.

He liked her.

A secret, happy possibility was tucked away in the back of his mind.

Gwyn’s heart skipped a beat, as though she was wondering the same thing.

What they could be.

“Lead the way, Berdara.” He made a lazy motion with his hand, and the corners of his lips tugged upwards. He sketched a bow, like a true courtly gentleman.

She returned the smile, her teal eyes sparkling with a new feeling, and took his arm. "Gladly."

The touch sent his heart soaring.

nepenthe (noun)— something that makes you forget grief or suffering.

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

BTS Reaction | You’re An Idol and Get Injured On Stage [Request]

A/N: But have you seen IU and Mr Park (Her bodyguard) I want a friendship like that with someone please!!!

Seokjin:

The dance break music started to play and you handed your microphone over to a stagehand going over to the centre and holding onto your member's hands as you got onto the back of another. You were supposed to be doing a flip for the dance move but at the last moment, they'd changed the routine without giving you all time to practice.

"ARE YOU READY!?" Another beat drop hit and you jumped into the air putting your arms out at the side and attempting to land back in the arms of your teammates but the beat was off and your members didn't know what to do, Jin screamed as he watched you falling down onto the floor hitting the floor with such a large impact that sound of a bone-breaking could be heard over the loud music. The music cut out as soon as you screamed out in agony not being able to control the painful scream you were trying to hold in,

"Medic!" A member screamed as Jin rushed over to you, your leg was clearly broken as it was twisted a way it wasn't supposed to be and you were crying out in pain.

"Jin! J-Jin!" You whimpered holding onto him as the medic rushed over to the stage, the lights cut out so that no one would be able to see the extent of your injuries and you were loaded into a wheelchair, crying hysterically as you asked Jin not to leave your side.

(X)

"I think I made it look better," Jin said as he pulled the bright pink marker pen away from his newest addiction to your white cast, it was covered in doodles that Jin had done whenever he was with you. Including several inscriptions of your name next to his followed by giant pink hearts. He hadn't left your side since the night you came home from the hospital, he refused to do anything that would take him away from you.

"Four more weeks and I can get this off." You mumbled grabbing a chopstick so that you could itch inside of the cast, it didn't hurt so much anymore and the doctor said you were lucky it was such a clean break or it would have taken longer to heel.

"Four more weeks and then the physical therapy starts." Jin reminded you, he'd gotten you one of the best physical therapists in Seoul since you wanted to be able to get back to work right away, you missed being able to dance around on stage but for now you were strictly confined to a chair while you sang along.

Yoongi:

Yoongi hated that you were doing this routine, there were stagehands carrying you as you laid on their hands as if they were a bed and you had to sing into a microphone while up in the air. You'd done it so much that it no longer scared you but to Yoongi it scared him every time you got into their arms, every time you went up there was another chance you could slip and hurt yourself or they could drop you and hurt you. He was so protective of you that if it was down to him you would be wrapped in bubble wrap and told to perform like that but this was one of your fan's favourite moves that you all did. You were singing your lines as the stagehands walked you across the stage, about to hit your mark when one slipped injuring herself and dropping you onto the ground in the process. You whimpered passing your microphone into your other hand as you tried to perform the rest of the song as nothing had happened but Yoongi knew instantly something was wrong with you, the way you were holding yourself was different and you weren't moving your arm correctly.

(X)

"I told you the move was dangerous," Yoongi said as the doctor wrapped the plaster cast around your wrist to secure it in place, you and the doctor both stared at him from where you were sitting,

"Don't say I told you so to someone who has a plaster cast on Yoongi...They hurt when they're set." You told him, the doctor started laughing at the both of you as she finished up your cast.

"You'll be free to leave in about an hour, I'll get you some pain medication to help the healing." You thanked her and turned back to Yoongi who was blushing at the doctor who had been laughing at him.

Hoseok:

Award ceremonies were your favourite, you got to perform and give people their awards it was something you loved doing.

"Next up we have BTS Performing their new single Stay Gold." You said into the microphone as the camera panned out and the live show cut to an advert, your co-presenter walked off the stage and you went over to talk to Hoseok before he performed,

"Baby be careful!" Before you could even think about what he had said you foot fell into one of the holes in the stage and you tripped forward hitting your face into the floor as you couldn't stretch out to stop yourself in time. You hissed holding your face as four people all helped you stand up and get out of the hole, you hopped over to some seats backstage Hoseok wanted to rush over to you but the music started and they had to go onto the stage.

"Go! I'll be here when you get back." You promised him as a medic began rushing to your side to help you out.

(X)

That night you'd finished the show by leaning on Hoseok with one leg in the air as you presented the final award of the night, all of your fans knew that you and Hoseok were an item so this was no big deal but as soon as fans saw your ankle Twitter went wild.

"Everyone thinks you did it backstage in the dressing rooms," Hoseok laughed looking through your twitter as you groaned to yourself, your manager told you it was up to you what you were going to tell them and normally you were open and honest about everything but this was just embarrassing.

"Just tell them the truth baby, they'll find it funny but at least you can laugh along with them." You glared at him as he started laughing and recreating the face you made as you fell down onto the floor.

"You owe me ice cream." You told him as you got off the sofa and limped over to the kitchen to get something to eat.

Namjoon:

It was pouring it down above the stage and Namjoon watched anxiously from the backstage as you performed with the rest of your group. There were a bunch of other idols performing today because the show you were singing on wanted to get some shots of the final day but no one had counted on it raining and making the stage dangerous. The camera panned down to you and you began singing into your microphone while holding eye contact with the camera, something everyone had to do when the camera came down to them. You rance your way to the back of your group getting ready to do more of the routine when you slipped on the water knocking into the main rapper and sending you both falling to the floor, you cried out in agony as you tried to move your ankle to get up from the floor. There were no second chances at this, this was the final take but Namjoon rushed over to you while your band members boyfriend rushed over to them, your ankle was already starting to swell and throb and your band member couldn't move their arm.

"CUT!" The music cut out as paramedics rushed over to you and your friend,

"It's a clean break," The paramedic said as he looked down at your ankle.

(X)

"Namjoon-ah," You whined as he got up from behind you again to go and get you something to drink, you'd only just finished the water he'd given to you and now he was rushing around. It was all he'd been doing since you broke your ankle, he signed your cast and then wouldn't leave your side. You understand that boyfriends were supposed to be protective but even this was a little much,

"The doctor told you I would be fine-"

"I want to look after you." You whined out as he sat back down behind you again,

"If you want to look after me stop moving every three seconds, you're comfy and I'm sleepy." You whispered to him snuggling against him as you got comfortable on his chest, you'd spent the whole night before in the hospital waiting for the doctor to put a cast on you and you were exhausted. All you wanted to do was sleep but Namjoon insisted you stay away even though you hadn't hit your head on anything.

"Can I just nap, Namjoon I haven't slept in over 32-Hours" He sighed nodding at you and letting you close your eyes.

Jimin:

You smiled at fans in the front row as you sang into your microphone,

"I LOVE YOU!" Someone screamed loudly making you laugh halfway through your line as you began performing the new comeback single with the rest of your group when your line finished you blew them a kiss.

"I love you too guys!" You yelled back looking at your security guard who was watching you closely to make sure nothing was going to happen to you. He panicked far too much but Jimin was the one who hired your guard, he wasn't happy with the one your company had given you and hired this one instead, telling you he was the best of the best. You began singing more of your lines when a fan reached out to touch you nothing new about it but this time he'd managed to grab onto your ankle and pull you quite roughly. You slipped off onto the floor next to the stage and cried out into the microphone. The music stopped instantly and your guard rushed over.

"Y/n?!" The fan who had pulled you kept trying to grab onto you again trying to pull you towards him but your guard pushed him away asking for more security to be put in place, your fans all turned to the one that had grabbed you and helped security hold onto him to escort him from the venue.

(X)

"He touched you-"

"My ankle, he held onto my ankle and pulled me down." You corrected Jimin who was red in the face with anger. He was ready to go and find the 'fan' that had done it when your guard came into the room with some more ice for your ankle.

"He could have broken your leg," Jimin was furious that you weren't more upset about this than you were,

"It's just some ligament damage in my ankle, it'll heal." You promised him hissing as the ice came into contact with your swollen ankle on the chair in front of you,

"We found the guy that had grabbed onto you, he's a Sasaeng." You and Jimin turned to your personal guard and thanked him for everything he'd been doing, from the moment you hit the floor he hadn't left your side unless it was to go and get you some ice or something to eat.

"Are you pressing charges against him?" Jimin questioned sitting down next to you as he stared at your ankle,

"Yeah, I-I need to do something to make sure it doesn't happen again right?" He nodded in agreement holding back to the comment that he would have done something worse to the guy that touched you but you could already tell he wanted to kill him.

"I'm fine Jimin," You leant up to kiss his cheek and he sighed the thought that someone could just grab onto you like that scared him.

"I'll double up your security, triple it if I have to-"

"You don't. I'm fine." You whispered kissing him again to stop him from ranting on about it all.

Taehyung:

You were performing in one of the largest stadiums in Seoul it had been your dream to do this since you were a kid and now you were finally doing it with everyone you loved around you. Your family were in the front row cheering you on while Taehyung - your boyfriend was backstage cheering you on since he couldn't be out in the crowd.

"You guys have been amazing!" Your leader screamed into their microphone as you went to grab some water from the stage,

"It's always been our dream to be able to play here and here we are!" You yelled into your microphone picking up a bottle of water and sipping from it, you were out of breath and panting heavily from the new routine you'd just shown them - a sneak peek into the next comeback.

"We hope you guys have enjoyed watching us as much as we've enjoyed performing for you but now we have to say goodbye." As your leader spoke you pouted out into the crowd blowing kisses to fans that were watching you closely.

"We'll be back though, we'll be back and better than ever!" You promised, laughing as they all started screaming back at you.

"We want to just-" Your voice was cut off by you screaming as a firework at the front of the stage went off without warning or in the correct timing, it exploded in the air but you fell backwards onto the stage clutching your arm as the sparks hit you.

"TOWEL!" Taehyung was on the stage within a matter of seconds holding a wet towel on your arm and looking into your eyes to make sure you were okay.

(X)

"Minor burns Tae, I'm fine." You told him as he paced around the doctors office in front of you, he'd rushed you to see someone right away even though you told him you were fine and the doctor told him the same thing.

"You could have been set on fire!" You held onto his hand, you knew why he was panicking so much but it was an accident, a small oversight and no one was seriously hurt in the process.

"I'm fine Taehyung," He walked over to you sitting down beside you on the bed as he plotted to find out who was in charge of the timing of the fireworks and who he was going to have to yell at for hurting you.

"Taehyung please I'm fine," You whispered to him leaning up to kiss him on the lips but he sighed at you, he was upset that you weren't more upset about this. It was something that could have seriously hurt you but you were brushing it under the rug as though it meant nothing.

Jungkook:

Jungkook was watching soundcheck since he couldn't be there tonight while you were performing, you were walking along the thing walkway where you could connect with fans during the concert that night.

"Y/n you have to do your turn!" A stage manager yelled through a megaphone to you, you rolled your eyes doing the turn as you walked back down the thin walkway. Jungkook hated it, it was the only thing he hated about the routines that you did, the walkway was a super thin piece of metal and you all had to do a turn on it, putting yourself at risk.

"One more and you're done." The stage manager said as you began walking up the thin piece again doing the twirl but this time Jungkook watched in horror as your ankle buckled underneath itself and you slipped falling down onto the floor and cutting your leg open.

"Y/n!" Jungkook sprinted out onto the stage coming over to you to check if you were okay, you groaned running your hand down your leg to see the blood on it.

"It's just a small cut," You lied trying to move away from Jungkook but ended up limping in the process, he helped you up and took you over to the onsite paramedic who cut open the jeans you were wearing.

"Shit." Jungkook hissed looking at the gash that was on your shin, a piece of metal had cut into your leg causing the wound but it was nothing that couldn't be healed with some butterfly stitches and a couple of days rest.

"I'm still performing-"

"No you're not!" Jungkook snapped looking at you and then to your manager who was nodding along, he saw no reason as to why you couldn't be allowed to perform if you were going to stay seated the entire time.

"I'll sit on a chair on the main stage, I'll rest it I won't dance." You told Jungkook who was making it clear he was against the entire idea of it.

"Jungkook-"

"We won't let any of them onto the walkway either, it'll be taken out of the routine." Your manager promised Jungkook that you would never have to do it again and it set him at ease a little more as you looked up at him.

"I still don't like it." You nodded at him, you understood why he was upset you knew you would feel the same way if it was him in this position instead of you.

tagline:

@snowy-meowl @jooniesdarlingdimples @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @rjsmochii @callingmyangel @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @innersooya

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years

Text

End Up Here | Owen Patrick Joyner

Requested: Yes/No

hi!! could you please write a fic where the reader is an actor on jatp and the cast have a sleepover and some of them decide to play seven minutes in heaven, and the reader ends up in the closet with owen who they have a massive crush on and they end up making out in the closet? love your writing!!

A/N: Special thanks to @calamitykaty and @vrthngiwnt for letting me bounce some ideas off them and giving me some of their creativity. Love you both!

Pairing: Owen Patrick Joyner x Reader

Song(s) used: Into The Unknown - Frozen II / Drag Me Down - One Direction

Warnings: It’s just light and fluffy.

Words: 6,411

How in the holy hell did she end up here? Here. In Savannah’s closet, kissing one of her best friends whom she’d had a crush on for weeks now. Kissing Owen Joyner. It was only this morning they were still bullying each other playfully during dance training. It was only a month ago the two had met.

A month ago she got the call from her agent that she got the gig. She was going to be in a Kenny Ortega production. A freaking Kenny Ortega production. After being a fan of his work since she was literally a child, she finally got the honor to work with him on a project. Albeit as more of an extra, but still.

A member of popular girl Carrie Wilson’s band. Dirty Candy singer #3. Member of Dirty Candy. No matter how she put it, it still all seemed so surreal.

The first day of bootcamp, y/n was extremely nervous. This was her first ever project and she wanted to do it right. This was something so close to her heart as she, herself, had lost her mom and lost the love to dance and sing for a while too until she found the strength again through friends and family.

Besides, getting to play a mean girl did seem a lot of fun.

“Oh, hey,” a girl greeted. She had long blonde hair that cascaded into curls down her neck and shoulders, and big brown bambi eyes twinkling at her. “I’m Savannah. You’re a Dirty Candy member?” she introduced herself and asked you, in one go.

“Uh, yeah! I’m member number three,” she chuckled awkwardly before reaching out her hand towards her. “I’m y/n,” she said with a smile that reached her ears. Savannah looked at her hand and then grabbed it, and pulled her in for a hug.

A surprised shriek arose from member number three before she wrapped her arms around the 5 foot something specimen that clung to her for a while.

“I can’t wait to get started!” Savannah clapped her hands excitedly when she had pulled away from the hug.

As time went by, a lot more people filed into the room. Some of them y/n recognized, like Jeremy Shada, but also some of the fellow dancers seemed very familiar. Probably from dance classes back in High School or College, she thought.

“Okay, let’s get this started!” A man of medium-build with a baseball cap on his head and a smile on his face clapped his hands, and rubbed them together as if planning some sort of scheme. “I’m Paul Becker, I’m the choreographer and along with Tori and Louise, my assistants, I’ll be getting you prepped for all dance rehearsals.” He pointed at the two girls on the first row. One of which y/n knew from college, Tori. A petite brown girl who was so sweet and kind, and a masterpiece of motion. Y/N remembered how she always outshone everyone in class.

Kenny Ortega stood next to Paul, smiling at the group of talent he’d accumulated, and said, “We’re just gonna start with some icebreaker games today to get to know each other better and then really get to work.” Y/N glanced around the room to check if she was the only one that seemed nervous. Halfway through the room, she made eye contact with a tall blonde boy with what she thought was the most adorable smile ever. She shot him a smile back before focusing on Kenny again. “I’m assuming not everyone knows each other’s names yet, so I suggest we start with the name game?” he looked at Paul, who gave a nod of assent.

“Let’s all sit down in a big circle,” Paul said, rotating his finger to indicate the circle. Savannah, standing closest to Y/N, grabbed the girl’s hand and brought her closer to the rest of the group before they both sat down, along with the others.

“The premise is to remember everyone else’s name,” Kenny began, “So, for example. I’ll start and say Kenny, then Paul, who’s sitting next to me goes ‘Kenny, Paul’, then Tori has to go ‘Kenny, Paul, Tori,’ and so on and so forth. Got it?” All participants nodded their heads.

A groan is heard from the other side of the circle, “I’m gonna have to remember so many names!” The blonde guy with the cute smile from earlier whined. The group burst out laughing at his annoyance.

“Well, let’s hope you remember the names better than the lyrics to your audition song, huh, Owen?” Kenny retorted teasingly, sending the rest of the group into another fit of laughter as the blonde boy glared at the director.

Y/N made a mental note to remember his name. Owen. When she looked at him at that moment, she recognized him from somewhere, but couldn’t put her finger on where or how.

“Okay, so, I’ll start,” Kenny said and repeated his name.

“Kenny, Paul,” Paul said, then looked at the girl next to him.

“Kenny, Paul, Tori.” Everyone then averted their eyes to the blonde girl sitting next to Tori.

“Kenny, Paul, Tori, Louise.” Everyone’s eyes then went to the girl sitting on y/n’s right, who she’d met before.

“Kenny, Paul, Tori, Louise, Savannah.”

Her heart beated faster as everyone’s eyes were focused on her as she repeated the names, “Kenny, Paul, Tori, Louise, Savannah, y/n.”

She looked around the circle with a smile as the girl next to her continued. Her eyes stopped at Owen, who was looking at her too with a tender smile on his face. Instead of simply shooting a smile back, she mimed “Pay attention”. His shoulders jolted from the soft chuckle that came through before he focused on the next person.

The game went on for a while until it reached Owen. Y/N could tell from the look in his eyes that he was struggling to remember them all. There were a lot of names to remember, that’s true, but y/n thought it was pretty simple to remember.

“Kenny, Paul, Tori, Louise, Savannah, y/n,” he halted his gaze on her for a split second before continuing, “Sacha, Jadah, uhm…” His eyes flicked back to y/n, begging for help. She started mouthing the names along, and even though he couldn’t really lipread, the help was welcome. “Kyra, Halle, Jeremy, Madison, Owen.”

Of course, he knew the last two people before him, but Kyra and Halle seemed difficult names for him to remember.

“That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” the boy next to him slapped him on the shoulder as the group burst out into laughter. Owen, however, couldn’t help but smile as he looked at y/n.

“Yeah, it wasn’t that bad,” he mumbled and shot her a thankful wink.

Charlie then ended the circle, and though Kenny wanted to go around the circle once more, the contradictory moans and complaints made him finish the game and tell everyone to get up off the floor. Paul grabbed a rope from the ground near the wall-covering mirror and handed one end to Kenny. The latter looked around the room for a second before calling out y/n’s name, beckoning her to come over. Confused and a little embarrassed, she walked over to the director.

“You’re about the average height of everyone here, so we need your waist,” he told her, chuckling. The soft caress of his hand on her shoulder made her calm down a little as he guided her to the middle of the room. Paul and Kenny then secured the rope at the height of her waist. One side on the barre, the other on a hook in the wall. “I’m gonna split you into two groups and make it a competition,” he then said and looked around the room to see who could make a great team.

“Let’s do Dirty Candy against Julie and The Phantoms?” Paul suggested, “Jadah with the Phantoms team and Sacha with the Dirty Candy team? And Louise can join the Phantoms team too, to balance it out.” Kenny let his eyes wander over the two groups as they scattered towards each other.

“Yep, I like that,” he then said and clapped his hands. “Premise of this game is to get across the rope together. There’s no going under it, it’s not a game limbo dancing. Okay? You gotta brainstorm and get across using teamwork.”

“What does the winner get?” Owen asked, a smirk playing on his lips as he and his team huddled together on one side of the rope, closest to the mirror.

“If Team Dirty Candy wins, they get to see your audition tape,” Kenny promised, immediately wiping off the smirk on Owen’s face as everyone on team Dirty Candy cheered and giggled. “If Team Phantoms wins…”

A boost of confidence rushed through y/n as she exclaimed, “No need for that, Kenny. Team Dirty Candy is gonna win!” Sacha and Halle lifted their hands, so y/n hit hers against them in high fives.

The director laughed at that while Owen kissed his teeth, an amused smirk playing at his lips. “We’ll see about that,” he said. “Kenny, what’s in it for us?” The director’s eyes darted from y/n to Owen and back, picking up on the connection that had formed between them with just non-verbal communication.

“What would you say if I could get into possession of home videos from when y/n was younger.” Y/N’s eyes widened at this. She had almost forgotten her parents used to be buddies in college with Kenny, and he and her dad worked together on a couple of projects.

“Yep, okay, you’re going down, Dirty Candy!” said Owen threateningly. “How is that fair, Kenny?!” y/n exclaimed, glaring at Owen as he cackled.

“About as fair as you seeing my audition tape!” he yelled, but still had that amused smile on his face that told her he wasn’t actually mad at her.

She pressed her lips together into a tight line before turning to her team. “We have to win this thing, guys.” All four other Dirty Candy singers and Sacha nodded their heads determinedly, and threateningly turned back to their opposing team.

“You’ve got half an hour to get everyone across. Every time a person touches the rope, everyone who’s already crossed over has to go back,” Paul explained in a stern tone. “Teams ready?” Both teams huddled up into a group, ready to brainstorm quickly. Y/N looked up, locking eyes with Owen straight away. He glared at her as she pointed two fingers at her own eyes, then pointing them to him. “3-2-1… GO!” Paul pressed the timer on his phone as the two teams began frantically discussing.

“I used to be a gymnast,” Kyra started in a hushed tone. “If I can get onto someone’s shoulders, I can summersault my way off?”

“Don’t you need a mat for that on the other side so as to not break your ankles?” Halle asked, her eyebrows knit together in confusion. The gymnast of the group shook her head, and so the discussion continued.

On the other team, Owen was taking the lead in their discussion. He seemed to just have a game plan ready in his mind. There was no way the other team would ever be allowed to see his audition tape. It was way too embarrassing.

“We’re gonna start with Charlie and me on our knees in front of the rope. Louise or Jeremy, one of you is gonna stand on both our knees and hop over. Then, whoever went over is gonna mirror us on the other side, so the next person has to step onto your thigh as they step over. We’re just gonna continue like that until I’m the last one here. I’m able to just jump across.” His teammates looked at him as if he’d just spoken Chinese. Blinking eyes and mouths ajar.

They had five minutes left and on both teams, the second to last person had just gone over. Now, only Owen and Y/N were left standing on their side. Glaring at each other when they noticed this was match point, both of them stepped back for the run-up, and leapt over the rope at exactly the same time.

Their teammates cheered as both teams huddled into a group hug. Kenny and Paul stood on the sidelines, applauding both team’s efforts.

“I think we have a tie,” Kenny announced once the cheering had died down.

“So, what does that mean?” Owen asked, glancing over at y/n anxiously. It would be fairest to have both their prices or no prices at all.

“I think our two team captains can decide that,” Kenny said, pointing at both Owen and y/n, who had started this little war in the first place. “Do you wanna see each other’s videos, or is no one ever gonna see anything at all?”

Y/N and Owen glanced at each other, trying to communicate what each of them were feeling in that very moment. Owen’s eyes searched her face as she bit down on her lip. It wouldn’t be fair for me to see her old family videos. Those are kind of private, he thought.

“I think we’re good,” Owen replied and offered the girl a smile as she nodded her head agreeingly. “This was a fun game, I don’t think it needs a price.”

“Agreed.”

Kenny and Paul told them to take a break before they got to the real dance training. Before y/n could join Savannah to their bags, Owen stopped her with a wide smile plastered on his face.

“Nice job, y/n,” he said, opening his palms and holding them out to her. Y/N hit her hands on his in a double low five as a giggle escaped her lips.

“You too,” she said.

The rest of the day was spent dancing, or at least for Y/N. The first two hours, they had dance training together, but then they were split up into groups again. Y/N had more dance rehearsals with the girls from Dirty Candy while Madison and the boys went to try out some songs they were going to sing on the show.

From that first day on, y/n knew that this wasn’t just going to be a work relationship she was building up with these people. She felt in her stomach that these people were going to become her best friends, her family. And she wouldn’t want to change it for the world.

At the end of bootcamp, y/n was proven absolutely right. They had become the best of friends, and almost like a family. And they had yet to start filming. The next few months were going to be even more fun, especially that final night of bootcamp since Savannah had invited everyone to a sleepover at her place.

Though y/n was half certain Savannah only did it to get her and Owen together, she was still excited about it. The blondie knew y/n had a thing for the tall blonde man ever since the first day, but she hadn’t done anything about it as she wanted to keep it professional.

But of course Savannah didn’t quite agree to that.

The night of the sleepover, Savannah invited a few of the closest people over to her place. She literally went all out on this night. There were bowls of different varieties of chips scattered around tables, stacks of red cups on her kitchen counter, candles and fairy lights everywhere. Though, y/n was kind of apprehensive about the candles being a danger, she didn’t really say anything about it. It wasn’t going to be that kind of night, she thought.

She even got them matching PJ’s. On the backside of six of the white T-shirts was TEAM DIRTY CANDY printed in a bright pink while the other five -- since Louise couldn’t make it -- read TEAM PHANTOMS in purple. She bought pink shorts for the girls on her team, purple ones for the girls on the other. For the boys, she brought grey joggers.

Y/N appreciated the effort Savannah put into tonight. It was something she would do, too. She was a sucker for an over-the-top party and went all out herself on every occasion.

“I made a non-alcoholic Sangria punch for everyone,” she said as she pointed to the large glass bowl on the kitchen counter near the stack of cups. “Who would like some?”

Team Dirty Candy was complete while Team Phantoms missed two people. Two people who were often late for everything. Charlie and Owen. Of course they hadn’t arrived yet. It didn’t surprise y/n very much. Half an hour late. They were half an hour late.

“We’re so sorry,” Charlie apologized to Savannah, “But this one over here was taking so long to get ready.” The brunette boy rolled his eyes as he thought of the dallying of the blonde one next to him.

“You were barely ready when I was,” Owen countered and gladly took the punch-filled cup Savannah handed over before making a beeline towards the others who were gathered on the couches in the living room.

His eyes immediately landed on y/n and his smile grew wider. “Well, look who finally showed his face, Dorian Gray.” His eyebrows knitting together made y/n realize he hadn’t the slightest clue about English Literature. “The Picture of Dorian Gray? No? Never read it?” Owen slowly shook his head as he slid down on the couch next to her. “OK…”

Y/N turned to Jadah, who was sitting next to her, completely ignoring Owen’s confused eyes. “Who the fuck is Dorian Gray?!” he yelled at Charlie, his eyes wide as he grew more and more annoyed.

“Read a book!” Halle and y/n yelled in unison, and Halle even threw a pillow at him, reminiscent of that scene in The Heat where Melissa McCarthy threw a book at Michael McDonald’s face. The two girls fell into a fit of laughter, along with pretty much everyone else but Owen. He was too busy wiping the Sangria punch that had spilled with the impact of the pillow, off his jeans.

“How about we get into our PJ’s and get this party started!” Savannah suggested, followed by an excited whoop. The girls all got up quickly, following behind Savannah while the boys stuck around the living room. They decided they needed to give the girls some privacy and would change after.

“So…” Madison started when they were in Savannah’s bedroom, changing from their cute outfits into even cuter pj’s. “You’re gonna tell Owen how you feel tonight?” she asked y/n, her eyebrows wiggling suggestively up and down.

“Feel about what?” y/n asked as she tucked her Team Dirty Candy shirt into her pink shorts.

“About him!” Jadah exclaimed with wild eyes. “It’s clear you have a massive crush on him, girl!” Y/N looked around the room at the other girls, who were all just nodded their heads in accordance.

Y/N scoffed after a few seconds of silence. She was thinking about confiding in them and telling them the truth, but it was no use. There was no way she and Owen could ever become a thing. She was supposed to be strictly professional as it was her first job.

“I don’t have a crush on Owen,” she stated, grabbed her stuff and left the girls in the bedroom. After neatly folding her jeans and the top she had been wearing that day, and putting it into the backpack she’d taken with her, she made her way into the kitchen for some more punch. All while her mind went crazy.

Sure, she had a definite crush on the blonde actor, but there was no way she was ever going to act up on those feelings. Owen probably didn’t even feel the same way about her anyway. Besides, she promised herself she would focus on her career instead of dabbling into relationships that probably won’t even last.

The girls re-entered the living room at the same moment y/n went back with her full cup of Sangria. “Alright, boys, the bedroom is yours. It’s just around the corner,” Savannah told them, pointing to the door she’d left open.

The four boys got up and, after receiving the pj’s from Savannah, disappeared into the bedroom. The complete quiet returning in the room. It made y/n a little anxious that the girls weren’t even talking. Mostly because she knew what they were thinking. They had told her a bizillion times already.

“You could at least ask him!”

“He might say yes!”

“You should act on your feelings!”

“This is gonna make you crazy!”

She’d responded to that last one with, “If it doesn’t, you ain’t doing it right.” It shut them right up for a while. Until now, it seemed.

“Let’s put some music on and get this party really started!” Tori suggested, hitting her hand against the red cup she was holding, excited to get dancing. Savannah agreed and grabbed her phone from the coffee table, connecting them to the speakers. It didn’t take long after that for music to begin filling up the silence.

Into The Unknown from Frozen II chimed through the room. All the girls gasped. All but one. She cursed at herself for feeling this way and basically being a buzzkill right now. She didn’t want to be this way, but the thoughts about Owen kept consuming her.

“I can hear you but I won't Some look for trouble while others don't There's a thousand reasons I should go about my day And ignore your whispers which I wish would go away, oh Whoa”

Tori and Madi turned to y/n as they sang along with Idina Menzel, trying to convince her to get up and belt the song with them.

“You're not a voice, you're just a ringing in my ear And if I heard you, which I don't, I'm spoken for I fear Everyone I've ever loved is here within these walls I'm sorry, secret siren, but I'm blocking out your calls I've had my adventure, I don't need something new I'm afraid of what I'm risking if I follow you”

The other four girls now sang to y/n as well, in an attempt to persuade her to party along with them. She wanted to, she really did. But y/n wouldn’t be y/n if she wasn’t a little stubborn at first.

“Into the unknown Into the unknown”

Madison reached out her hand, but y/n slapped it away and got up on the sofa, belting out the last line of the chorus while the girls looked at her in awe. They knew she could dance and act, but they had no idea the girl had pipes.

“Into the unknown”

As the girls belted out the rest of the song, the boys walked into the living room again in their Team Phantoms and Team Dirty Candy shirts, stumbling upon the scene of y/n on the sofa and the girls surrounding her as if they were her fans at a concert. All seven of them were singing the song at the top of their lungs.

Owen couldn’t help the smile finding its way to his lips as he watched y/n in her absolute element. Though she be but small, the girl took up a large part of his heart. Ever since they met a month ago, her snarky remarks and her hunch for competition made him fall head over heels in love with her. And as the month went on and they became closer and closer, he kept avoiding asking the one question that was on the tip of his tongue.

For now, being friends was enough for Owen if it meant watching her do stuff like this.

“Are you out there? Do you know me? Can you feel me? Can you show me?”

Charlie’s voice made Owen snap out of his thoughts as he asked, “When are you going to ask her out, man? This whole ‘just friends’ thing is killing you.” Owen sighed at his best friend’s words. It wasn’t that he was wrong as much as he just didn’t like hearing the words out loud.

“I’m fine, Charlie. There’s no way we could ever be together. Y/N is way too professional for that. And she might be right, you know? This is her first gig, if she wants to pursue this acting debacle, she has to be.” Owen didn’t even believe any of the words that rolled off his lips, but it’s what he’d settled on to ease his own mind.

“Not with that attitude,” Jeremy mumbled.

“I just don’t know what to do, okay?” he said and headed over to the concert y/n was giving the girls. The moment he came into her range of vision, she turned to him and sang the very last lines to him, and him alone, causing butterflies to well up in his belly.

“Where are you going? Don't leave me alone How do I follow you Into the unknown?”

“Woah, y/n!” Halle exclaimed as she shook her head in disbelief.

“Yeah! Woah indeed!” Savannah added, “Your voice! Girl!” Y/N chuckled, and grabbed the hem of her pink shorts as though she was wearing a dress and curtsied at the praise.

“Thank you,” she said, and though she was playing it off coolly, her cheeks colored pink.

The next song started to play, which was Golden by Harry Styles, and the other three boys joined the rest of the group. Charlie, Sacha and Tori hopped onto the couch with y/n, belting out the song and sipping from their punch.

This was what the sleepover mostly consisted of; singing along loudly to whatever song was playing, sipping from the punch and munching on the snacks Savannah had laid out for them. For at least an hour, they sang and danced until their feet started to ache. Up to the point where only y/n, Savannah and Madi were left standing. The boys and other girls had taken a seat on the couch, watching the performance they were giving them.

Y/N had enough of their lame asses, so when her favorite One Direction song came on, she made her way over to the couch and took a hold of Owen’s hand first. “Come on, Golden Boy! Sing with me!” Little did she know everyone glanced at each other knowingly upon seeing this.

“If I didn't have you, there would be nothing left The shell of a man that could never be his best If I didn't have you, I'd never see the sun You taught me how to be someone, yeah”

Owen finally caved in and sang along with the girl in front of him, eyes locked and filled with absolute admiration.

“I’m… gonna…” Savannah muttered, but when she realized they didn’t even hear her, she ushered everyone out of the living room and into the kitchen, leaving the two alone in hopes they would confess their undeniable love for each other.

The boy twirled her around a few times, making her giggle before they fell into song again, making up some moves as they went. Neither of them even noticed the rest of the group was gone and watching them from the kitchen.

“Anyone wanna bet nothing’s gonna happen?” Sacha muttered and frustratedly sipped his drink. He’d seen the way y/n looked at Owen that first day and just knew something would blossom between them. Everyone could see it. The sparks were ignited that very first day, and now they were just waiting for them to fan the sparks into a flame.

“If I didn't have you there would be nothing left”

Y/N reached her half empty red cup towards Owen like a microphone as he echoed part of the line. His green eyes never left y/n’s face. It almost felt reminiscent of the way Madison and Charlie sang at bootcamp as Julie and Luke.

“Nothing left”

“The shell of a man who could never be his best”

“Be his best”

“If I didn't have you, I'd never see the sun”

“See the sun”

“You taught me how to be someone

Yeah”

“I’ll give you ten dollars if Owen doesn’t stop at the end of the song when y/n hits those high notes,” Charlie told Sacha. The latter nodded his head in confirmation of the deal.

At the end of the song, during the very last chorus, Owen had to stop singing in awe of y/n’s voice as she hit the high notes Harry Styles reverberated in between the other boys’ voices. She had the most unique voice he had ever heard. It had a bit of a rasp to it, and it quickly became his favorite sound in the whole world.

Charlie chuckled, shaking his head at the couple as he exclaimed, “Called it!” and held his hand out for Sacha to give him the ten dollars. The blonde guy gave the older one a puzzled look. “I said I’ll give you a tenner if he didn’t stop. But he did, so. Hand it over, buddy.”

Sacha rolled his eyes but went to grab the last ten bucks from his wallet and handed it to Charlie who happily socked it away.

Another song started playing, making y/n gasp as her eyes averted from Owen’s to the kitchen where the rest of her friends were seated, watching the entire scene. “Tori! Do you remember the choreo to this one?!” she shrieked out. Tori offered the rest an apologetic smile before joining y/n in the living room and getting into the steps with her while Owen staggered into the kitchen.

Madison and Savannah exchanged glances, deciding to put their mischievous plan in motion with a simple nod of the head. “Alright! Let’s play truth or dare!” Savannah called out and beckoned everyone into the living room where y/n and Tori whined at the disruption of their dance.

“Oh, shut up, you guys do that dance almost every day in rehearsal!” Kyra countered while she jumped over the back of the couch. With a chuckle, Tori and y/n joined the others on the couch. Tori took a seat next Jadah while y/n went to sit on the end of the U-shaped couch, next to Owen.

“I’ll start!” Madi shouted, raising her hand. “Jadah! Truth or dare?” Savannah and Madison agreed to handle it subtly and not get to Owen and y/n straight away.

“Dare,” Jadah replied courageously, a wide smile on her face to show off her pearly white teeth.

“Call one of your contacts in your phone and tell them you had a pregnancy scare,” Madi said as a smirk tugged at one corner of her mouth. Jadah grabbed her phone and opened her contacts. “Just scroll through and we’ll say stop,” Madison added.

“STOP!” Madi and y/n shouted in unison.

Jadah looked up with her eyes wide, “It’s Sarah Jeffrey,” she giggled and pressed the name before putting the device at her ear to listen. A silence fell over the room as they all watched Jadah carry out the dare.

A smile played on y/n’s lips as she watched the young girl talk, but couldn’t help but zone out. She was suddenly incredibly aware of how close she was to Owen. He had one leg tucked under the other as she rested her forearm on his knee, leaning into his body as his arm laid on the back rest behind her. She could feel his heart beating against her ribs and his fingers softly graze her arm every now and again.

“Jadah, your turn,” Savannah said, making y/n realize she had missed that entire conversation. It didn’t seem like Sarah Jeffrey said something too incredulous since everyone seemed to act quite normal. For as far as normal goes in this group.

“Sacha! Truth or dare?”

“Dare!”

“Uhm…” Jadah pursed her lips as she thought. “Try and seduce the person next to you.” Sacha looked to his left, at Jeremy, and then to his right, at Charlie. He thought about it for a moment but turned to Charlie in the end.

“I have too much respect for Carolynn,” he told Jeremy, which made the engaged boy chuckle as he played around with his ring. He definitely missed Care.

Sacha cleared his throat before placing his hand on Charlie’s cheek and forcing the boy to look him in the eyes. Charlie’s smile faltered just before Sacha spoke, “You… Are so beautiful, you made me forget my pickup line.” His voice was hushed, barely above a whisper. Charlie visibly swallowed at the pretty boy in front of him. Before he could register it, Sacha had kissed his own fingers and placed them on Charlie’s lips. The older boy coughed, blinking his eyes rapidly as he turned to the group again.

“Woah-kay! Next!”

The group burst out into laughter until Sacha called out Savannah’s name.

“I’m gonna pick ‘truth’,” she said with a smile, which vanished almost straight away when she got booed. “What? Somebody's gotta pick truth!”

“Who is the sexiest person here?” Sacha asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Easy, all of you,” she uttered, shrugging her shoulders, “Y/N!” She pointed at the girl to her right.

“Let’s go dare,” the unknowing girl answered with a smile as she shifted in Owen’s arms.

“7 minutes in heaven with the person to your right.” The sentence flowed out of her mouth a little too easily. Y/N knew Savannah had done this on purpose, and now she wasn’t sure if she should hate her best friend or be thankful for the little push in the back.

Y/N slowly turned her head to face Owen, only to find out he’s already getting up. Her arm fell from his knee and she tried to keep her balance from the sudden lack of support of her body. He held a hand out to her to help her up, but y/n wasn’t sure if she should do it. This could just about change everything in their dynamique.

“A dare is a dare, y/n,” Madison added innocently, egging the girl on.

The girl inhaled deeply before gently placing her hand in Owen’s and letting him pull her up. Savannah led them towards the closet where they kept their coats, and opened the door for the couple.

All the way down there, y/n’s mind couldn’t stop racing. What was she going to do? Were they actually going to kiss? Or was this his way of telling her in private that he didn’t feel the same? Maybe she should just not give him the chance to say anything and break her heart. Maybe she should just kiss him to have at least experienced having his lips on hers so she could stop daydreaming about it.

The closet door shut behind her, and she was left in the dimly lit cramped space with just a bunch of coats and Owen’s silhouette. Now’s her time to figure out what she should do. Now’s her time to decide.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, I--” before Owen could finish his sentence, y/n attacked his lips with hers, pressing them together in a short, but sweet kiss. When she pulled away, she felt a heat rising to her cheeks. His lips taste better than she had ever dreamt of. How was she now supposed to forget about that? This was a terrible idea.

Or at least she thought it was until he took this as permission to go forth with the whole seven minutes in heaven thing their friends wanted them to do. Hell, he wanted them to do it.

He kissed her feverishly, his hands gripping at her waist as he tried to pull her closer and closer, even if that was almost impossible since her body was already pressed against his without any space left for imagination.

She kissed him back as if her life depended on it, her fingers tangling up in his blonde hair. This was something she had fantasized about for a month. Every time they talked, she couldn’t help herself but glance at his lips and wonder what it would feel like to press hers to his. Since that very first day of bootcamp, she knew there was something about him that she couldn’t put her finger on. But now she did. It was an attraction. Pure attraction. The way metal attracts a magnet.

“I’ve wanted to do that since you so confidently told Kenny you were gonna win that game,” he panted, pressing his forehead against hers. “I didn’t think you felt the same.”

“I have had a crush on you since you smiled at me that first day,” y/n admitted, a smile forming on her face as she stared into those beautiful eyes of his. They reflected back in exactly the same way they did after those ice breaking games on day one.

He lifted his head to get a better look at her, raising his eyebrows, “That’s all it took? OK…” Y/N let out an airy laugh as she hit him on the chest playfully. “So, what do you say to a date?”

“Nothing, ‘cause a date can’t speak,” she wittily answered. Owen scoffed and rolled his eyes, but couldn’t withhold a smile reaching his cheeks. “All jokes aside, I think I would say yes to a date.” She reached up and stroked a strand of his hair from his forehead.

“You think?” he asked.

“Mmh, no, I’m pretty sure.”

That just widened Owen’s smile before he dipped down to meet her lips again. A loud uproar was heard from the other side of the door at that moment. The couple in the closet giggled upon hearing this, knowing exactly that their friends had been eavesdropping.

“Can’t believe they set this all up,” y/n said, shaking her head and placing her forehead against Owen’s chest. She inhaled his fresh scent of musk and sandalwood. A calming smell she had come to love.

“Yeah... me neither,” he chuckled, “How did we end up here?”

JATP taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg@thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon @caitsymichelle13 @calamitykaty @wiselight @kcd15 @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @stars-soph @kinda-really-lost @notasofti

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #julie and the fat ones #jatp #owen patrick joyner #owen joyner #owen x reader #owen joyner fic #owen joyner one shot

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