#on the other. they echoed a similar sentiment as another reader I adore and it’s like. okay.

[badolmen]

Me: eheheh I’m gonna write an au of my silly spies and stuff stories that’s gonna be steeped in the politics I grew up in because it’s personal to me to write about how usamericans entrenched in post-9/11 nationalism can learn and grow and be better the way I had to after growing up in a conservative nationalist household

Me: oh hey some folk are reading this including one I look up to what’s they got to say -

Readers: I don’t trust Character he’s got bad vibes

Me, holding my White Bread American Character who’s just started his arc: you. you guys gotta trust me please

[rouiyan]

𝘌𝘚𝘗𝘌𝘊𝘐𝘈𝘓𝘓𝘠 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙𝘚 [ 𝘫.𝘫𝘩 ]

⧏ extra follow-up scene for someone to bring home ⧐

synopsis — jaehyun is your brother’s best friend, smart, good-looking, and above all, yours.

✧ medstudent!jung jaehyun x (fem.) reader (featuring older brother!johnny) ✧ established relationship au, college au, brother’s best friend au

✧ genres : fluff, angst ✧ word count : 1.6k ✧ disclaimers : discussion of fears, food.

you tilt your head to the skies outside. they're darkening, fast, and you wonder if your ride will be here in time to resuscitate some of the liveliness that has left your soul. surely enough, exam season proved to be the death of you and winter break was the single strand of hope you were holding out for. sighing, you tug the curtain back closed and look to your phone for the nth time that day, your lockscreen comes up blank.

fingers drumming against the handle of your suitcase, you busy yourself with roving your eyes over the lengths of your apartment once more in search of anything you might've missed. another short sigh is uttered and cut off when the rap of knuckles sounds at the door. you're rushing all of a sudden, how did you miss his car pulling into the parking lot when you've just barely parted your eyes from the window?

checking the peephole, something that should be second nature to any female living alone, is long forgotten as you swing the door open just as a second rap is about to ensue. the man on the other side is who you've been needing to see for the whole duration of the afternoon and the weeks leading up to it.

"hey, sorry, i got caught up with a bunch-"

an 'umph' replaces the rest of his words as you fling your arms around him. jaehyun reciprocates well, wrapping his own arms around your frame and bringing your bodies close, a tight-lipped kiss placed on the left of your forehead whilst mumbling into it, "missed me much?" a chortle of sorts escapes your own mouth, muffled by the thick fabric of his jacket, "been thinking about you all day." 

he gives your shoulder a pat, reminiscent of a 'bro pat,' and pulls from you, "we gotta get going, babe." you leave your fingers entwined with his as half of your body reenters your long-forgotten apartment to retrieve your suitcase, of which he takes charge of not a second after. your eyes are on the sky, once again, when the two of you exit the complex, and jaehyun can only question your glances. "something wrong?"

you don't mean to lie to him, but most certainly the words that tumble from your mouth pay no mind towards your sentiments, "nothing, i'm good."

but jaehyun knows you better, likes you more, than either of you are willing to admit. he lets the first half hour of the drive sit in silence. he understands that whatever's sitting on your mind will come to him when you need it to, he knows that you'll share. jaehyun looks over at the cross of your legs and the elbow propped under the window and head propped on your hand. in the faint light that lingers of the sun, he can make out the creases of your brow, the quivering demeanor that sits under the composure you let show. your boyfriend reaches a hand over to your left, lifting it from your lap, finger by finger, and into his palm with tenderness. 

you remove your stare out the window and onto him, his dark hairs falling into place across his forehead, head bobbing to the thrum of whatever song was playing in the background of your thoughts. he squeezes tight at the hand, and really, that's all you need to timidly, reassuringly, voice your worries.

"i'm not scared of the dark."

jaehyun waits for you to go on and, when you don't, shifts some of the weight of the conversation onto his shoulders, "i figured as much."

you find your voice a little while after, "and i'm not scared of driving either," musing along to your thoughts and allowing them to be aired aloud as they come, "it's just...things happen in the dark, and well, things happen all the time, but in the dark- you really don't know much when driving."

he's more just trying to nudge you along at this point than actually curious. "are you scared of hitting someone or being hit?" it's that feeling that comes when you care for someone, and when that someone is in the midst of opening up to you and the only thing you can do is receive them well, to reciprocate, to engage and make them feel heard. jaehyun loves the feeling of being the one with whom you open up to.

"both, i mean, what isn't there to be scared about when you're going 60, 70 miles per hours with little to no idea of what's in front of you?" a small, oblique smile etches on his expression, though facing forward, at the way your fingers halt their little trembles and the way your body is now aligned inwards, in his direction rather than out, towards the window. ever so diligent in choosing his words, he's also a great deal prudent in pronouncing his tone placidly when he supports, "perfectly rational."

kicking off a sandal, you hike a leg up onto the passenger seat, tucking it under your thigh and resting your and his entwined hands atop, "you think so? jieun always tells me it's dumb." 

"that's just because it doesn't apply to her, not because she doesn't think it can't apply to you." you wonder how your boyfriend articulates himself so well, even as his eyes are set forth and his other hand swerving the car into the lane beside. you nibble, unconsciously, on a fingernail, also looking out into the vast night before you. "then why did you say it's rational? you're fine with driving in the dark." you can't see a thing but you can hear jaehyun's low chuckle reverberate above the consistent hum of the engine and the whipping of wind, "because unlike your best friend, i have enough heart to pay regards to your fears."

at the lilt of his voice, you revert your sights from the black ahead and onto him. jaehyun doesn't look back; he's driving after all, but the little smile that plays on his lips tells you enough. "hm, i'll have to bring that up to her." there's this back and forth that passes between the two of you, something under the current of your conversation and something that you'll only pick up on when remembering back to this episodic memory. it's sure to be episodic. 

jaehyun doesn't respond, not for awhile, and you know him well enough to understand that silence is also a love language of his as well. it's a month that you've known him. you wouldn't say it felt like years, there were still years worth of things to discover about each other. rather, it feels like the only thing you understand, mutually and in the undercurrent, is that whatever it is that's playing between the two of you isn't just something in the moment, it's the knowledge that it'll be of the long run ahead.

it's like the feeling of when you first meet someone and you already know that they'll be your best friend. like the first chord of a song that you just know you'll never get sick of. the first whiff of a cologne that you know you'll never mind inhaling for the rest of your livelihood. the first month of a love you know will never fade, no matter the years, the miles apart, the fights, the fears.

you wonder if this is what it feels like for everyone else in the world whose first love is also their last. at least, this is what it feels like for you.

your eyes are on the moon when jaehyun breaches the silence, "you know, i'm sorry about today." head snapping to him at the sound of him speaking, you're pleased to see the moon so lovingly glints in the strands of his hair, his irises, the rings on his left hand, and his hand on the wheel. "what do you mean?"

the seeming afterthought of his seems to have been thought out quite well, for he answers almost instantaneously, as if it were at the tip of his tongue, waiting, "for picking you up late, of course." and though you are unrehearsed, you discern and voice your answer in a similar pace, "no, i'm glad you did."

"why is that?"

"because if you didn't then...we wouldn't have had the talk." 

this time, the smile that lights his features is in the crossroads of knowing and loving, understanding and reminiscence for a scene that passed less than an hour ago. jaehyun's hand is now clammy in yours, or yours in his, and he squeezes your palms together then, mortifyingly gross but somehow tolerable in the hands of only each other. a silly smile etched on your face, you glance down to note that the rings that clutter his left hand are absent on his right and that your left hand is bare of any such accessory whatsoever.

he catches the gaze and his smile morphs into one of adoration, affection, unadulterated fondness as he muses, the sound of his voice almost getting caught in the bleakness of silence, "a few years, love, i'll put something on that finger of yours, a few years."

and in a few years, indeed, johnny stands while jaehyun sits beside him. a fork is clinked to the rim of his champagne glass and the gazes of a hundred or so guests turn with intrigue in his direction. he really could go on about how his sister, the bride, had come to this point in her life where a ring would be slid on that finger of hers by none other than his best friend. he could go on about the pumpkin pie, the blanket, the text, the hand soap, the yogurt, the game night. but he doesn't.

instead, johnny, best man to the groom, jung jaehyun, simply announces into the echoes of the reception hall, "i called it."

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

✧ end note — about an hour later than promised but it's all good (i'm supposed to be on a break anyways, remind me to never say that again because it will probably never hold true). anyways, i hope this tied it all together a little neater than i had left it; i'm quite pleased with how it turned out hehe. okay, have a splendid day, i'll see you around!

[jenoptimist]

request:

Can you maybe write something with Jeno? 🥺🦋

✮ Pairing: jeno x reader (gender neutral)

✮ Genre: fantasy (magic) | fluff | royalty!au

✮ Additional info: temporary memory loss

✮ Word count: 5.4k

♡ Yakult says: [yakult stop including magic in your fics challenge] = ❌FAILED❌ like ?? why is that my default setting 💀💀💀 bUt anyways hope u enjoy this fic !! thanks for requesting ☺️💙

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When Donghyuck burst through the door, all but sprinting towards Mark, you remained unphased as it was nothing out of the ordinary. It was a habit of his, one that was usually accompanied by the two of them greeting each other with that complicated handshake of theirs. You paid no mind as the sound of their hands slapping against one another echoed throughout the room, continuing to scribble your input here and there on the document that needed to be completed by tomorrow evening. The lack of exciting chatter was odd but overall unconcerning so you kept your head down and kept working, leaving the two of them to whisper to themselves.

“Dude you lost him?!” Mark exclaimed suddenly, the harsh sound of his chair being scraped back accompanying his loud voice. That had you dropping your pen as you raised your head, interested in the conversation that was beginning to unfold in front of you. Donghyuck was assigned to guard the prince for the day so to hear that he lost him didn’t bode well to say the least.

The royal guard winced as he sucked a breath through his teeth. “That makes the situation sound completely terrible! It’s not that I lost him,” he paused for a second, head slightly tilted to the side as he scratched at his red hair, “he just, y’know, disappeared from my line of sight?”

“Disappeared from– Dude!”

“I know! I’m sorry! Oh my gosh what do you think they’re going to do to me? If they fire me nobody is going to want to hire me ever again! I’m doomed!” Donghyuck spoke rapidly, pacing back and forth. “What am I going to do?”

“Look for him?” You suggested unhelpfully from where you sat, dropping your pen on the table so that you could lean on the back of your chair and cross your arms against your chest. Donghyuck stopped in his tracks in favor of shooting you a deadpan look, clearly unamused by the way his eyebrows were raised slightly. Mark shook his head encasing his forehead in his fingers.

“Oh wow y/n you’re a genius! Why didn’t I think of that? No wait, I did.” Donghyuck snarked, still staring at you unamusedly. “Of course I looked! I checked the library, his reading nook and even the kitchens! Jaemin was definitely suspicious of me and I had to come up with some lame excuse as to why the prince wasn’t glued to my side.” With that, he dropped onto the chair that Mark previously occupied and groaned loudly, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Doyoung is going to kill me!” An exaggeration that statement might have been but everyone in the castle knew that Prince Jeno was the falconer’s favorite—regardless of the fact that he was a royal. Doyoung definitely would be both incredibly concerned and furious at the knowledge that the prince was missing.

Empathising with the panic he felt, you capped your pen and stood up. “We have no choice but to keep looking, c’mon it’ll be quicker with the three of us.” Donghyuck’s head snapped towards you, his eyes practically gleaming with hope and adoration, while Mark remained silent as stared at the ground in contemplation.

“I don’t think we’ll need to look that hard,” Mark said finally, after a couple of more minutes wearing a hole into the hardwood floor with that stare of his. “Have you tried asking Renjun and Chenle for special help?”

The practice of magic wasn’t abolished in this kingdom unlike in others however usage of it wasn’t actively encouraged, either. It was a safe space of sorts, so long as you retrieved a license that could only be granted by the monarchy. A magic license would only be given when an oath promising not to use magic for evil was recited. Renjun and Chenle were two of the best magic users around so Mark’s suggestion would surely bring the search for the prince to a speedy end.

“No, I thought I wouldn’t have to resort to it.” Donghyuck answered truthfully, gnawing at his already swollen bottom lip. Mark hummed in reply, as if he had already uncovered the answer but needed it to be confirmed.

“Alright then,” you said as you shrugged on your long, nude trench coat. “Let’s go visit them.”

Renjun and Chenle resided furthest from the castle, in between where the border of the kingdom met the forest. They lived in a stone cottage that had a cute little pond with koi fish at the front and a neat garden of various flowers and herbs on the side. You made a game of hopping on every other stepping stone that lead up to their house in a zigzag pattern while Mark and Donghyuck followed closely behind you, not even an arm’s length away.

The door opened before one of you could even knock. Chenle’s knowing smile greeted you, backing up to allow the three of you to enter. The four of you traded pleasantries as Chenle lead you to to the furthest room past the living room and kitchen. Renjun was already there, reading a book as he leaned on the wall where the window was allowing warm sunlight into the room. There were shelves that had jars containing several liquids of various colors—some even had objects and/or plants in them. In the centre of the room, there was heap of items on an uneven oak table in the middle of the room. How the objects didn’t fall off of the table was a mystery but you have never been one to question the way of the witches.

“How did you know we were coming to see you?” asked Donghyuck, who apparently didn’t share the sentiment as you. Renjun placed his book on the shelf so that he could help Chenle arrange the map, crystals and candle neatly on the table in a position that you were sure meant something significant.

“A witch never reveals their secret.” Chenle replied, glancing back to show a smile full of serenity. You exchanged looks with Donghyuck and Mark, shrugging at them before returning your gaze ahead of you.

“We need something of the prince,” Renjun said once he was satisfied with the placements of the crystals. He turned to face the three of you expectantly while Chenle moved the candle left and right, trying to centre it as he hummed a low tune to himself. The three of you must have made faces of despair or something similar because Renjun quickly added, “it doesn’t need to be his, exactly. It can be something that he gave you.”

Donghuck and Mark checked every single one of their pockets and then turned to you when they came up with nothing. The dainty silver chain around your neck felt as if it were extremely heavy at that moment, especially the ring that hung from it that laid warmly on your chest. It was a gift from Jeno on your birthday last year - he gave you the box with a shy smile, shifting from foot to foot as you opened it - and while you deeply treasured it, you treasured the man who gave it to you even more. With that in mind, your arms reached up to unclasp the necklace and held it tightly when you successfully removed it.

“I’ll get it back, right?” The hesitance in your voice was unwelcome but you had to be sure—what if they were going to burn it into ash using the candle? It wouldn’t be a point of concern had it been any other situation because you knew that the ring and chain were forged of precious material, but they had magic.

Renjun nodded, the corner his mouth quirked into a smile as if he could read your thoughts. You could feel the intense stares of your friends burning into the side of your head but you refused to look their way. Instead you focused on Renjun and Chenle in front of you, who made quick work of completing the necessary spell. When your necklace hovered on a certain area of the map, it was obvious that Jeno’s location was found. Chenle marked it by placing one of the crystals that was used to hold down the corners of the map which allowed Renjun to return your necklace. You immediately clasped it around your neck and hid it underneath your top.

“Thank you for your help.” Mark smiled after Jeno’s location was ingrained inside of your minds. He then fished through his pockets and handed them some money, quickly dropping it onto the table when the pair refused. At your side, Donghyuck was practically vibrating with the need to leave. You shared the feeling. Who knew how long the prince would be in that section of the forest for?

“That ring,” Donghyuck started once the three of you had started briskly making your way to the opposite direction of Chenle and Renjun’s cottage. There was a fusion of amusement and teasing in his tone and you already knew that you wouldn’t like where he was going to lead the conversation. “When did he give it to you? Did he finally get his act together propose?”

You and Mark answered at the same time.

“It was a birthday gift.”

“Get his act together? Dude, they aren’t even dating yet.”

You looked at Mark incredulously. ‘Yet?’ You wanted to ask but Donghyuck beat you to it, piping up before you could utter the word. “But you want him to propose, don’t you y/n?” He said it with a playful grin aimed at you and then laughed as he swooped around you, successfully dodging your attempt to shove him.

“Why would I date him?” You muttered as you pursed your lips, jamming your hands into the pockets of your trench coat. “Me and him,” you trailed off, frowning at the ground, “we aren’t like that.” You weren’t. Although being married to Jeno and spending the rest of your lives together wouldn’t necessarily be the end of the world in your book. There was no harm in dreaming, though.

“We aren’t like that.” Donghyuck mimicked, his voice annoyingly high pitched. Mark snorted. “Right, okay. Let’s pretend both of us believe you.”

You remained silent for a moment as you thought of the private, saccharine smiles that you and Jeno shared when the two of you were on opposite ends of a room, of how you could always spot him among a sea of people without fail, of how the two of you gravited towards each other and lastly, you thought of how he made your heart race and how you desperately hoped that you had the same effect on him, too.

“Alright, so maybe we are like that.” You admitted in defeat, your shoulders lifting to touch your ear lobes. “But–” You stopped yourself, tilting your head when you heard a gruff voice ahead of you which was loud enough to reach your current position.

“Keep searching. He’s gotta have more than that.”

The voice made your gut churn horribly. Without even the slightest bit of hesitation, you were running towards the direction of the voice. Selfish as it was, you hoped that he wasn’t speaking to Jeno. Of course your hope had been for nothing because when you approached them, Jeno was trapped by a woman holding both of his arms behind him while the man stood in front. Jeno looked physically unharmed, the clothes that he used when he wanted to pretend to be an ordinary person soiled with mud and rips. The woman noticed you immediately and jutted her chin in your direction. The man turned and folded his arms across his chest as his hard gaze landed on you. You were not going to be intimidated by his bulging muscles and towering height. You weren’t. Not when Jeno, your dearest friend and prince of the kingdom, was in danger.

You stood taller, arched a brow and mirrored his position. “Just what do you think you’re doing to my husband?”

And wait what. You didn’t know what you would have said but it certainly wasn’t that. By some miracle they didn’t notice your stance shift once the statement left your lips. Instead the man very pointedly stared at your left finger, where there was an obvious lack of a wedding ring. You sighed internally, the words were already said so you might as well go along with it. For the second time that day, you showed your necklace. You didn’t unclasp it, just untucked it from your top and showed them as proof.

“He isn’t wearing his ring.” The woman noted observantly, tightening her grip on Jeno clear by the way he groaned and clenched his jaw. You met his eyes as your brain scrambled for a logical answer. He shook his head at you, urgency written in his eyes, as if that would make you turn and leave.

“He’s a blacksmith.” Mark’s voice rang out, saving you from potentially making the situation worse than it already was. He used that authorative tone of his, the one that he rarely used, and you were completely thankful for how confident he sounded when he said the lie.

Donghyuck marched toward the man. “Leave our friend be and you can have that.” He gestured a hand to Mark who, without a doubt, probably had money or something considered valuable in his grasp.

Your gaze slid from Donghyuck to Jeno, whose eyes were focused on your firm. “You’ll be okay, I swear.” You mouthed. Despite his uncomfortable position, he managed a minute nod and a hint of a smile.

The was a tense energy as the woman and Mark stepped forward, her accomplice and Donghyuck eyes set on each other’s companions. You kept your gaze soley on Jeno, prepared to intervene if necessary—three, possibly four, against two would be feasible, there is power in numbers after all. When the exchange was over, the two fled which left Jeno stumbling onto the ground when the hold on him was released. You moved instinctively, approaching the prince just as he got pulled up by the combined effort of Donghyuck and Mark.

As Jeno brushed excess dirt off of him, Donghyuck tutted. “This is why you don’t go running off,” he started, you traded a look with Mark behind his back, knowing that the guard wouldn’t stop until he got everything he wanted to say off his chest. “Imagine what would have happened if we hadn’t found you in time! By the Gods. . .” while he continued to prattle on, his tone laced with both frustration and concern, you kept your eyes on Jeno, occasionally making silly faces with Mark. The prince would return your stare when Donghyuck’s eyes would stray away from him. Well acquainted with Donghyuck’s lectures, you knew that he was almost finished with the way that his toned and posture softened, the way there was increased pauses in his speech. Although Jeno looked thoroughly reprimanded, he didn’t look too upset. Rather he seemed entirely touched with the amount of care he found in Donghyuck. “But,” the red head finally sighed, clapping the prince’s right shoulder, “I can say with confidence that the three of us are glad you’re alright.”

Both Mark and you nodded with feeling. “The King and Queen would have had our heads, as well as the Crown Princess and Doyoung.” Mark added.

Briefly, you imagined Doyoung’s glare - he was rarely angry, more inclined to become irritated, but when he was it was scary - and shuddered, internally agreeing with Mark’s statement. The churning in your stomach returned when you caught the confused expression displayed on the prince’s face. Neither Donghyuck or Mark seemed to have noticed yet, occupied in their current conversation about how the four of you would sneak into the castle without being seen in hushed voices.

Jeno shuffled towards you and then stood barely an arm’s width away in front of you. Then, much to your suprise, he took his hand in yours. The warmth of his hand contrasted with yours although you knew that would change soon. In a few minutes your hands would become clammy with nerves. It was only simple hand holding and it shouldn’t have made your heart begin to beat faster, shouldn’t have made the unease slowly slip away, but the matter was out of your control. The two of you didn’t hold hands, ever. The closest thing that came to it was when your knuckles knocked against each other as you walked side by side on your nightly strolls. During those strolls you often thought about how easy it would be to take his hand in yours, just like he did a few moments ago, and swing your interlocked hands lightly in between your bodies.

“Why would the monarchy and, uh,”–your heart immediately dropped into your stomach, disliking the direction his question was headed–“Doyoung have your heads?” He lifted his eyes from the ground to meet yours, his head tilted. “Am I their personal blacksmith or something?” Your eyes widened and you swallowed thickly as you looked at your interlocked hands and back to his eyes repeatedly. What did they do to him? They must have done something. Jeno wasn’t joking, not one bit; how could he be when he looked genuinely confused. He shook his head, the confusion melting into a much softer, sweeter expression. “Can we go home now,” he raised your interlocked hands to his lips and softly pressed his lips to the back of your hand. “Please?”

“Guys,” you said, alerting the others while you tried for a warm smile. “Guys!” You repeated louder when they continued to talk. “We need to Renjun and Chenle.” You told them seriously once you finally captured their attention. Their gazes darted down to your hands before they shot up and looked back and forth from you to Jeno. Without so much as a blink, their expressions morphed from bewilderment to amusement and then went back to bewilderment before settling onto concern, no doubt seeing the alarm in your expression. With a firm nod of their heads, they made their way to the two of you and then waited for you to start walking, eyeing the prince curiously as they did.

If Jeno was confused again, he said nothing. Instead he just continued to smile adoringly at you, his eyes folding into pretty crescents, and kept your hand in his as the four of you turned and headed to the direction of the small, stone cottage.

*

“It’s nothing but a cheap trick,” Renjun deducted while Chenle kept Jeno company on the other side of the room, sipping on some tea as they chatted away. “It should wear off in a couple of hours. If not, it’ll definitely be gone by tomorrow morning.”

“Oh thank the Gods.” Donghyuck mumbled under his breath. Mark sagged in relief.

“You really can’t whip up something that he can eat or drink to make him remember?” You inquired as you chewed on your bottom lip. Jeno still thought that the two of you were together—married to each other. It was entirely your fault but it wasn’t as if you had expected him to temporarily lose his memory when you blurted that out! If you could go back in time and change it, you would. You snuck a glance at him and before you could look away, he caught your eye and smiled as he nodded to whatever Chenle was saying.

“Unfortunately, no.” Renjun replied. “Even though it’s a cheap trick, memories are never something to be tampered with. So if we try to retore his memories, there’s a huge risk of him completely losing them or possibly, something even worse could happen to him. So with that in mind, it’s best to leave it be.” He smiled apologetically, rubbing the space between your shoulder blades in consolation. You managed a weak smile at him in return. “I’ll leave the three of you to plan then?” Mark gave him an affirmative and after another chorus of thanks, he joined Chenle and Jeno. The three of you huddled closely together, arms around each other’s shoulders with your heads ducked, so that you could think of a plan.

“Can’t we just tell the truth?” You whispered, “I’m sure if there’s a punishment, it won’t be that bad. Jeno is completely safe and you two are part of the Queen’s favorites.”

“No,” Donhyuck rebuffed, “even if he is safe and we’re her favorites, he’s still her son. I can’t see us getting away that easily.”

Mark sighed. “Hyuck is right, y/n. I think the best thing to do is to tell them that he’s decided to sleep in Jaemin’s or Jisung’s place. But he won’t be with them obviously, he’ll be with you. Hyuck and I can fill them in on what’s happening since they’re bound to find out anyway.”

Just as you were about to ask why it had to be you that he stayed with, the man of the hour spoke, startling the three of you out of your huddle. Jeno requested to go home again, looking at you imploringly with those puppy eyes of his. You quickly exchanged glances with Mark and Donghyuck, who were both silently pleading at you, before nodding at Jeno. The prince sought out your hand and you allowed him to keep hold of it as you strolled out of the cottage, Mark and Donghyuck hot on your heels.

“We’re lucky none of the citizens knows what he looks like,” you heard Mark say as Jeno relayed his conversation with Renjun and Chenle to you, “or else this would have been really bad.”

It was a short trip back to the city that consisted of nonstop chatter from Jeno. Donghyuck and Mark went along with you to your house, which was situated behind the lucious gardens of the palace. Fortunately, nobody had spotted the four of you. You could only imagine what sort of gossip would stir between the employees if they had seen the two of you holding hands. Donghyuck and Mark looked like your chaperones for Gods’ sake, especially with the way the trailed you at a distance.

“I can start on dinner while you shower and change,” you said after locking the door.

Jeno was looking around the room. It was a mess; the floor was unswept, there were sheets scattered around your coffee table and the cushions for your couch were squashed because you didn’t have time to fluff them this morning. There were also mugs in random places. You apologized for the mess but he waved you off, walking towards the kitchen where there was a short stack of books that laid on the small dining table. Jeno had brought those when he visited the previous night, raving about them to you and offered to read them together.

“It’s really cozy here,” Jeno commented before turning back to face you. “I love it.” The words were so sincere that you almost had to look away from him, unable to meet his eyes when you had yet to tell him the truth about the entire situation. Instead you smiled and directed him to your bedroom - where he thankfully had a drawer of spare clothes - and the bathroom so that he could freshen up while you cooked dinner.

Dinner mainly involved Jeno asking you questions which, fortunately, didn’t include your relationship. When the meal ended, the two of you continued to sit at the table but remained silent. It was clear that Jeno wanted to say something to you. He was fiddling with the cutlery, his stare directed at a spot on the table and you were content with sipping on your water while you waited for him to speak up.

“There’s something wrong with me, isn’t there?” He finally said quietly, his eyes slowly meeting yours. You almost choked on your water and you at him with wide eyes as he continued. “Whatever it is,” he said while he scanned your face, “we’ll be okay, won’t we? We will be and even. . . even if we won’t be, if I don’t go back to how I was”–he stared into your eyes, his tone incredibly sincere–“I promise I love you. And I promise that I’ll love you for the rest of our lives.”

Your breath caught in your throat while Jeno stared at you pleadingly, as if he couldn’t bear it if you were to leave him. That was when you knew you couldn’t leave him in the dark anymore. He thought he loved you and that you were married and you couldn’t continue allowing him to believe that lie. Not when he was looking at you like that.

“You’re the prince, not a blacksmith,” you stated in a rush, placing your cup onto the table, no longer able to contain the truth. “This morning Donghyuck was supposed to keep an eye on you because you like going out into the city to be surrounded by the citizens but you evaded his watch and your memory got tampered with by those two people and,” you paused to catch your breath. “We’re so lucky that the King and Queen haven’t allowed you to be seen by the public because if they had, those two could have done much more worse things to you.”

Jeno put down the cutlery and reached over to cover your hand in his own, trying to comfort you by rubbing circles onto your skin with his thumb. “I won’t do that again,” he swore. “I’m sorry for making you worry.” A hint of a smile crept up onto his face, as he added, “I’m so lucky to be married to you.”

“Jeno, we aren’t married.” You corrected as kindly as you could manage. Which was a feat considering that he looked so happy and you didn’t want to be the reason why he wasn’t. “You gave me that ring as a birthday present.”

“With the intention of getting married, right?”

“No, Jeno. We aren’t together at all.”

Jeno stopped moving his thumb but kept his hand over yours. His gentle smile turned into a frown. “Do my parents not approve of you? Am I in an arranged marriage? I’ll break it off and we can run away with each other or something, because even though I’ve lost my memory, I can’t be imagining that you love me, can I? I have a drawer of clothes and you have those hooks so that our toothbrushes hang next to each other. And these books aren’t the only ones in here that are mine, I saw some on the bedside table with my name on the spines and– and– I see how you look at me.” His eyes were terribly sad and lost as he asked, quietly, “we love each other, don’t we?”

The words were on the tip of your tongue, ready to be said. You were going to deny everything and inform him, gently, that you were strictly friends. Friends could love each other. Platonic love and soulmates existed! Except you couldn’t lie to him, again. Slowly, you slid your hand away from his and balled it into a tight fist on your lap.

“I can’t answer that right now,” you replied, your throat dry. “When your memory comes back, we can talk about this, okay?”

The silence that followed stretched on for what felt like eons. Eventually Jeno nodded but the silence remained, even as the two of you did the dishes and brushed your teeth. Jeno followed you like a shadow until you climbed into bed. He hovered at the door, his arms wound around his waist as he hunched over himself. When you gestured the space next to him, he slowly made his way over and slid under the covers. The two of you laid on your backs, a large space in the middle. You patted your hand around your mattress until your pinky met his. Jeno made no attempt to grab your hand in his although he didn’t retract his hand, either. Closing your eyes, you held his hand, slotted your fingers in between his and waited until sleep overcame you.

*

As your eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the brightness that filled the room, you became aware of how you were tucked under Jeno’s chin and how your arm was thrown around his waist. Your legs were tangled together and you needed to move before you drifted off to sleep again. It was difficult to remove yourself from him but somehow, you managed. After tiptoeing to the kitchen to grab a cup of water, you took a seat at the couch and looked at the pages you left on the coffee table so that you could pick one up and get to work.

“Morning,” Jeno greeted, his voice groggy. “What are you working on?” He asked as he took a seat beside you, placed his head on your shoulder and cuddled your arm.

“Some documents that needed to be finalized. I just need to edit some parts,” you answered as you tried not to concentrate on the warmth that he was radiating. It was tough but you handled it. “I’ll need to hand in it later. When are you planning to head back?”

“Kicking me out already?” Jeno asked before yawning. He rubbed his hair against your shoulder, “that hurts, y/n, we haven’t even talked about”–he let out another yawn–“last night.”

Knowing that it was futile to try to dislodge yourself from his hold, you stayed put. You worried at your bottom lip, unable to stop the nervousness that flooded your system. It was probably going to be a quick conversation. He was probably going to tell you that he hadn’t meant what he said last night and to forget all about it. Or maybe, hopefully, the two of you would finally address the feelings you had for each other because, and to use what he said last night, there was no way that you had imagined all those small moments that transpired between the two of you, was there?

“Alright,” you agreed, trying to think positively, “let’s talk about last night.”

Jeno removed himself from you. You adjusted your position so that you sat facing him with your legs pushed up against your chest, your arms wrapped around them securely. He seemed much more alert now, his eyes pinning you down with laser focus.

“We love each other, don’t we?” He asked, repeating his question from last night. Although he spoke with confidence, the insecurity buried in the depths of his eyes gave him away.

“Yes, Jeno,” you answered. “We’re friends, of course we love each other.” His mouth twisted unhappily, as if he ate something unpleasant, and was about to say something but you beat him to it. “But I think the two of us have wanted to be more than friends for a while now.” You said, a knot loosening in your chest once the words were out.

Jeno stretched his hand out towards your cheek and at his hesitance, you rested your cheek in the palm of his hand. “My parents approve of you and so does my sister. I’m not in an arranged marriage but if I was I’d break it off and run away with you.” You smiled into his palm and he mirrored it. “I’m so lucky to have you,” his eyes sparkled with adoration and he shifted closer to you, his hand still caressing your cheek. “I promise that I love you.”

You pressed your lips onto his warm palm. “I promise that I’ll love you for the rest of our lives.”

In response, Jeno tittered gleefully. His other hand came up to cup the other side of your face and then very gradually, he tilted his head and shut his eyes while he leaned in to kiss you. It was sweet and slow and felt as if the rest of the world had faded away. Jeno smiled into the kiss and when he pulled away, his eyes fluttering open, the smile remained on his face. His arms dropped back to his sides and the two of you engaged in prolonged eye contact before you broke it, throwing your head back to laugh and then launched yourself at him. Jeno caught you easily, laughing along with you as his right hand cupped the crown of your head, while his left arm wrapped around your waist.

“I know I’ve said it already,” Jeno whispered into your ear after pecking his lips softly on your temple, “but I’ll love you for the rest of our lives, too.” You kissed his neck in response, practically glowing with happiness.

[alienisticxo]

X Angel - Chapter 4

Elon Musk x Reader

{Authors Note} Sorry for taking so long! I’ll be updating more regularly now! You can also find this story on AO3 and Wattpad, the links are in my description. My asks are also always open for general Elon chat and requests. <3

Warnings: None yet!

“So what’s the verdict? We don’t got all day,” Jett pushed as he strode through the doors once more, irritated and impatient.

Elon backed away from me then as the other men walked in with a ferociousness in their stride, clearly champing at the bit to hear what their most valuable colleague had to say about the cash-robot.

“She truly has no recollection of anything, and not being aware of how her programming works can be dangerous, especially on Earth,” one man said to another, seemingly continuing a conversation from outside.

“However,” the other began even louder, loud enough for everyone to hear, to assure I could hear. “We’re willing to pay the price. Earth needs someone new for the public to idolize or they’ll waste away. Perhaps they’ll listen to the people who know what they’re talking about if someone like {Y/N} tells them what to do from their televisions. What did you find, Musk?” He finished, turning to Elon with interest.

But Elon only shook his head with conviction, confident in his findings.

“I’d like to investigate further before this purchase is made. Something isn’t adding up here, and I agree with the danger it could pose.”

“Nonsense,” the man replied brashly instead, suddenly not treating Elon as though he were their most valuable player in the room.

I wondered why they’d asked him for his opinion at all as the suited man took a holographic card from his own pocket then.

“Whatever the price, we’ll take her,” he demanded.

I could hear Elon breathe a disappointed laugh as he shook his head and turned away, sliding his hands into his suit jacket pockets, then. He very obviously deemed my purchase to be a terrible idea, though I know not for similar reasons I did. Still, the sentiment stung me more than I’d like to admit. He was my hero, after all.

But he was in no position to argue with them, as I wasn’t his pop star to claim. For another moment, I also wondered why they’d asked him to tag along altogether. If they weren’t going to hear him out, there was no reason for his presence. Even though I was sure he saw me more as a threat than beneficial, I was still glad I got to meet him, at least once in my lifetime.

Regardless of that, there was no denying it felt like the entire universe fell apart around me all at once, leaving me spiraling into the galaxy with no direction. I couldn’t go back to Earth— I wouldn’t go back to Earth. I would rather jump out of the window in front of me and disassemble my entire being, than go back there. But I had to stay quiet. I had to remain calm. My teeth ground together behind my lips as every inch of my body tensed up. They didn’t notice, but it was possible Elon had with each occasional glance he took back at me.

I kept my eyes right back on him this time, only averting them when he looked in my direction. When they gathered around the large table to sign the contract, which appeared in mid air at the press of a button on a phone by Jett, Elon stayed behind. He watched me intently as my {e/c} eyes burned holes into the man whose own eyes made steady and confident contact with the contract as it scanned his retinas. Within seconds, it disappeared, my life slipping from my own fingers as it was sent through cyberspace back to Astra. Crypto exchanged cards as Jett, and who I found out to be Mr. Bauer, held them against each other.

The purchase had been made.

It felt like an execution more than anything else.

I had a week to bid farewell to Planet X and all who inhabited it. Their label, something boring like Spinn Records, worked with Jett to plan a facade as to why I was leaving to feed to my adoring public. I was to follow it as per Astra’s orders. Once the official date on the contract arrived, I was to hop a flight with SpaceX and hurdle towards the one place I vowed I’d never return to, and take orders from Spinn instead. After that, I was no longer Astra’s responsibility. Silent rage and hurt and a plethora of other emotions came bubbling to the surface, but I kept them at bay, turning near catatonic as my eyes shifted focus to Elon once more.

Deep down, I was hoping he might be the fairytale hero I needed at the moment; might pick up on my silent distress and come up with a bulletproof excuse for me to stay on X, devoted to Astra. Mention anything from the danger I could pose to simply being uninteresting enough. But he didn’t say another word. He stared at me from time to time. And each time he did, I could see the cogs in his mind working away from my peripheral, as he valiantly attempted to unpiece the puzzle that was myself.

They didn’t even say goodbye to me when they left, and I didn’t dare look up at Elon, though I noticed his hesitation to depart. My emotions were on overdrive—  I didn’t trust myself to make eye contact for fear I might break down on the spot.

The ride back to my penthouse was quiet on my end. It wasn’t unusual, as cybernetic stars were usually seen and not heard behind the scenes. I sat in the back of the Cybertruck as Jett prattled on to the head of Astra about the deal he’d just made for them from the passenger seat. I was drifting in and out, but caught something about how he wanted more than his usual ten percent. Who would be paying him now?

I smiled to myself for just a second as I looked around inside of the vehicle. They were rare on Earth, but one of the status cars on X. Everyone who was anyone had one despite Elon’s standing in the social world.

Self driving, stereo system like a major recording studio, and built like a tank. Despite the autopilot though, we preferred to drive the beast ourselves. I mean, who wouldn’t? But as I thought about the Cybertruck’s creator, and our brief encounter today, I couldn’t help but feel slighted. It wasn’t his responsibility to save me from such a disastrous deal, sure, but I could tell he wanted nothing to do with my appearance on Earth. They didn’t listen to him when he’d tried to speak up, but he didn’t try hard enough, either. Something told me he wanted them to realize their own mistake, but he didn’t know at what cost that was to me.

I shook myself out of the thought. How could he know, really? Why would he even care? Why did I care so much? His small act of slight compassion in the boardroom didn’t mean I was entitled to his entire arsenal of kind deeds. It was absolutely insane to think that. I questioned my own sentience before trying to push my thoughts away altogether. My emotions were jumbled, no one in particular feeling better or worse than another. It was to the point that the only thing I felt was nothing at all.

When I’d finally arrived home, there were no flashing cameras, no screaming fans or journalists and no security guards surrounding me from every direction I looked. I made my way through the lobby of the building and onto the teleportation pad, dying to finally have some privacy in my own space. The damn thing couldn’t work fast enough as I impatiently waited for it to read my code. Eventually, though it was really only mere seconds, I found myself in my penthouse.

Once I locked the door for no outsider entry, I immediately leaned back against it, the soft clang of metal ringing lightly through the space and tainting my view of my life, the sound bitter and empty as it fell on my ears. My line of sight was glued to an onyx black rug in front of me as I recounted the latter half of the day's events. It all replayed to me like a movie I was forced to watch, all of my hard work unraveling for a little currency that didn’t even mean anything just a few years ago. As invincible as I felt to Astra, after all I’d done for them to save their name countless times, to push their agendas when I didn’t necessarily agree with them, to keep them relevant, they felt as though I was disposable.

My label deemed me disposable and my hero considered me a threat.

Then it hit me.

All at once everything I’d been feeling hit me like a swirling hurricane, and I began to near hyperventilation as I let myself truly feel again. The wall I had to build up every day cracked and crumbled as a million different sensations escaped into the ethos from my small frame. A roaring war within my body swept me into a moment that felt tumultuous, everything suddenly chaotic, loud and heavy though it was just myself in an otherwise quiet room.

My chest rose and fell as it all came rushing back like a wave of water, tears forming in my eyes as sobs pushed their way through my throat. It was as though everything else I had ever been fell away, stripping me bare to nothing but my own resolve. My cold hands immediately reached for my head and I started to sink to the floor, the dramatism of the moment not at all underplayed or over exaggerated when compared to how I felt as I began to tear the beautifully detailed chrome pieces from my face— and then my chest— and then the rest of my body, tearing my clothing off along with them. I threw each piece across the large entryway, the sharp echo earsplitting as each one clattered and rolled through the space. The intricacy I’d hid behind for what felt like ages now, meaning nothing and everything all at once. My heart pounded in my chest, a familiar ache I’d not felt since I left earth reigniting my passion, my need to escape. Inside, I was dying to escape the hell I had to endure, pretending to be a body I wasn’t day in and day out just to stay alive.

The jet black mascara I still liked to put on despite no one seeing it dripped down my cheekbones in messy streaks. My soft, warm skin was exposed in the evening's hazy sunset that wasn’t quite like anywhere else in the two worlds I knew. The small tattoos, scars and beauty marks I’d acquired on Earth, a stark indication of my true humanity, revealed to no one but myself and my thoughts. I embraced the way I could feel the blood coursing through my veins, supplying my carbon based vessel beyond what the most complexly built form of artificial intelligence could comprehend. I tasted the salt of my tears on my flushed rose petal lips with slight relief that I still existed as I was, if only for the time being. I reminded myself of who I was— who the world didn’t know me to be, who I’d often forgotten or left behind for the sake of my safety; of my family’s safety.

And as I sat there, naked and distraught, I briefly wondered if I should reveal my secret to the world now that I found myself at an impasse; if I should risk it all to stay on Planet X and continue the life I’d worked so desperately hard for. To use exposing my humanity as a playing card that no one saw coming was a thought, absolutely. Astra would be in shambles if I decided to expose myself as nothing more than a mere mortal after boasting to X and Earth that they had the most realistic A.I. lifeform in the game. While it didn’t seem like such a big deal, it was in the eyes of the public and their competitors. It would tarnish their reputation forever. But the label didn’t exactly play fair, either. My lifeless body would be hurdling into the universe within the hour I told them, and they’d be after anyone else who might be affiliated with me or related to me. It was one thing to outcast an individual to the outskirts. It was a whole other to wipe out any trace of their existence at all. But they had no issues with it, so long as they saved face and crypto.

Earth hadn’t been kind to my family or me in its downfall. I didn’t come from wealth of any kind and we’d made due with humble living while we could. But we’d gotten caught in the grime the moment it all began to fall apart on a grand scale.

X was my escape.

Our escape.

I barely managed to make it out of Earth as a stowaway, let alone alive.

[radiosteve]

Need Your Loving Tonight Ch. 3

Summary: Being left alone with Roger, even for a few minutes, confirms him to be just as cocky as you thought he’d be. However, he also invokes something else within you that you never would have expected. The boys discuss what the band should be called. As the band grows in popularity, a certain feeling within your heart does as well.

Note: Sorry this part took a little longer, I barely had time to write because of the 4th of July. But, I hope you enjoy this chapter!! It goes a little more into the reader and Roger’s feelings but there is still much more to come. Freddie will actually get to talk in the next chapter, I just didn’t feel like there was a good place for him to come in. The photo is one that I found on google. I do not own any rights to it. If you want to be added to the taglist send me a message or an ask and I’ll add you!   

Warnings: Some language

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader, John Deacon x Reader

Words: 2.4k+

October 14, 1968

The two words echoed throughout your head immediately after they left Brian’s lips. Of course the drummer that is finally adequate enough to be apart of the band is the one that just so happened to walk in on you and Tim. It also didn’t help that Roger was extremely attractive, and from what you’ve witnessed, pretty cocky. You were snapped out of your thoughts by the ring of the landline on a desk in the corner of the theatre. Brian rushed to the phone, hastily answering it as you stood watching him from across the room. 

“Yeah, ok. I’ll be there in a second. Just hold on,” he said into the receiver before hanging up. You looked at Brian with raised eyebrows, silently asking him what the phone call was about. As if he read your mind, Brian walked towards you and his bandmates to explain. “The guy at the front desk said that his shift is up so we need to get the keys from him to lock up when we’re done. I’m going to go grab them,” he looked at you and then shifted his glance quickly over to Tim. “Tim, why don’t you come with me.”

Tim shrugged his shoulders and followed Brian to the door, knowing better than to put up a fight. Once the door was closed, you slumped back onto the couch that you practically lived on at this point. Roger came up and sat beside you, leaning back against the couch before crossing one leg over the other.

“So,” he spoke, turning his head towards you as you peered up at him. “You and Tim are quite the cute couple,” he chuckled and you narrowed your eyes at the drummer. 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Tim and I aren’t dating. It’s just a mutually beneficial relationship that primarily consists of sexual acts,” you snapped while he just rose his eyebrows higher at every word you spoke.

“So, you’re just fucking then?” Your eyes widened at how blunt he was, but you nodded. “And you’re an American?” He asked, despite already knowing the answer. 

“Uh-huh. Grew up on the Jersey shore, not that that’s any of your business either,” You sat up as he laughed at your cheeky comment. 

“If you’re from New Jersey then why don’t you have a horrendous accent?” he leaned in closer to you, mesmerizing you with his beautiful blue eyes. They reminded you of the ocean water back home and you could practically hear the waves slamming against the sand.

“I don’t know. No one that lives near me has a thick Jersey accent. Guess you’d have to go a little farther north,” you practically whispered the end of your sentence, so enticed by everything about Roger. It wasn’t just his big, precious eyes that drew you in. It was his shoulder length hair that’s color fell somewhere between blonde and brown. It was his feminine face in combination with his rough hands and raspy voice. Everything about him seemed perfect and it almost made you feel dizzy. You were snapped out of your trance by the sound of Brian and Tim reentering the room. You and Roger pulled back from each other as Brian set the keys on the table closest to the couch. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you realized how creepy it must have been for you to have been staring so intently at Roger. Little did you know that Roger had been lost in a similar train of thought about you. 

Brian took a seat in between you and Roger on the couch as Tim pulled over the drum stool and sat opposite of the couch. Tim flashed you a wide smile and you tried your best to return the favor. A wave of exhaustion flooded over you, finally feeling the effects of many drum auditions and two bouts of embarrassment. You stretched up to lean your head on Brian’s shoulder and close your eyes for a few minutes. Brian shifted his head to make you more comfortable and began to speak quietly enough to not disturb you. 

“I know this is a little premature, but does anybody have any names in mind? For the band, I mean,” He tried to move his head to look at Roger but found it rather difficult to do so without waking you up. The boys softly debated for almost an hour, while you still slept soundly on Brian’s shoulder. 

“I think it’s a great name!” Tim whisper yelled as Brian and Roger rolled their eyes. “What’s so wrong with the band being called ‘Staffell & Sons’?”

“Number one, were not your sons. And number two, we’d sound like a bloody construction company,” Roger asserted, gesturing wildly to accentuate his point. Just as Tim was about to bite back with a snappy comment, you started moving around and mumbling in your sleep.

“The hell did she just say?” Tim looked at you with curiosity and confusion etched across his face as you stopped moving. Brian turned his head the best he could to catch a glimpse of your face, bringing a smile to his lips when he saw the corner of your mouth turned up in a grin. 

“Who knows, but it would probably still be a better band name than ‘Staffell & Sons’,” Roger mocked, not noticing Brian’s shift in focus. Brian’s eyes still traced over your sleepy smile when everything seemed to click into place. 

“Smile,” he spoke gently, lifting his head up to face his band mates. “We should call the band Smile.” He looked back down at your infectious smirk, recalling that it had been one of the reasons that he took an interest in you in the first place. After another moment of adoration, Brian fixed his eye line back to his bandmates in an attempt to gauge their response.

“That’s not bad actually,” Tim agreed and Roger nodded along. “What made you think of that?” 

“Well, uh, Roger said he was a dental student,” Brian spoke, a light sheen of panic spread across his face. He didn’t want them to know that the band name would be dedicated to his best friend. Brian liked having his own little secret. 

“Alright then, Smile it is.”

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

It was nearly midnight when the boys had decided to depart, making their way back to their respective apartment or dorm room. Brian had woken you up right before they left, promising to walk you back to your dorm after he locked the building up. You stood outside, clutching your jacket tighter as the cold autumn air brushed through your hair. Roger and Tim stood beside you, waiting for Brian to finally lock the last door. 

“All done,” he shoved the keys back into his pockets and hopped towards you three. “I guess I’ll see you all tomorrow.” And with that you all said your goodbyes and headed in different directions. You and Brian began your long trek across campus in the cool, frigid air. 

“So you finally got the band all put together,” you bumped into Brian as you strolled, bringing a smile to his face.

“Yes, finally. If I had to sit through one more mediocre drum solo, I might have dropped out of school entirely,” Brian spoke, looking down at you as you giggled.

“Got a name in mind, Mr. Band Man?” 

“We decided on one while you were asleep. Speaking of which, how is it that you manage to fall asleep practically anywhere? First, during a riveting astronomy lecture and now an incredibly important band meeting. Do you need to see a sleep specialist? I know a guy,” Brian rambled on making you forget how cold it was as you erupted in laughter. 

“Some would call it a talent,” you offered as you tried to suppress the giggles that fled from your lips. “What name did you end up choosing?” you asked after you calmed down a little, a grin still masking your face. Brian looked down at you, knowing that he and his bandmates had made the right choice. 

“Smile.”

“I quite like that.”

“Good, because we’re not changing it,” Brian chuckled, turning to look at the sidewalk in front of him. “Now, tell me about the situation between you and Tim,” Brian blurted out, earning a groan from you.

“Oh god.”

February 27, 1969

Throughout the months following that first initial band meeting, the boys grew closer and closer. You found yourself immersed in music as you spent copious amounts of time around them. They had their first gig only a week or two after Roger joined the band and it went off without a hitch, besides when you had to give Brian a pep talk before he went on stage. They had written a few songs and even got a record deal from Mercury Records at the beginning of the year. To say you were proud was an understatement. You went to every gig and nearly every practice, showing support for your best friends and favorite band.

You and Tim continued to fool around in spite of Brian’s threat to quote ‘beat the shit out of Staffell if he hurts you’. And even though you were thoroughly satisfied by Tim’s touch, there was always a part of you that was drawn to Roger. You don’t know what it was but his soft lips and bright blue eyes always managed to make you weak in the knees. Unfortunately, you weren’t the only girl that seemed to share this sentiment. Even your roommate Sally begged you to introduce her to the handsome drummer. Your heart panged with unwanted jealousy every time you saw him take a new girl to his van after the show. But you just brushed it off and moved on, ignoring the ache that you felt in your chest. 

Everything with the band came together beautifully, bringing you to where you were now. Standing in a parking outside the Royal Albert Hall with a cigarette hanging from your lips and two coats covering your body.

“Hey Rog, can you light me up? I can’t feel my fucking fingers,” you shivered out as he nodded and reached over to light your cigarette. Your breath hitched for a second as his knuckle brushed against your lip. “Thanks mate,” you mumbled as you puffed on the cig.

“Look at our little American, calling people ‘mate’,” Roger teased, earning an unamused glare from you.

“You try living in a different country for two years and not pick up on some of the local slang,” you countered as a shiver raked through your body. 

“Here,” Roger handed you a flask filled with whisky. “It’ll help warm you up.”

“Not to sound like your mom or anything, but you really shouldn’t be drinking before you perform,” you took the cigarette from your lips only to replace it with the warm flow of whisky.

“Yeah, well it helps to calm my nerves before I go on stage. Not all of us have our best friend to calm us down like Brian does,” he mumbled, taking the flask back from you and taking a swig for himself. Just before you were able to speak again, you were interrupted by Brian and Tim. Behind Tim stood a man that appeared to be around your age with long, dark hair and an unusually large set of teeth. You flashed a bright smile at the three men before you, your eyes lingering on the stranger behind your two friends.

“Hello love,” Tim came over and wrapped an arm around you as you took another drag from your cigarette. Tim nodded at Roger and leaned over to whisper something in your ear. His hot breath against your neck made you squirm and giggle. Tim took the cigarette from your hand to take a drag before placing it back between your lips. Roger glanced at you snuggled up against Tim before taking another quick drink from the flask in his hands. 

“The place is packed,” Brian spoke, both excitement and nervousness laced within his tone. “This might be our biggest gig yet.”

“Oh my god, that’s wonderful!” you exclaimed, meeting the gaze of your best friend. “You guys are going to do so well, I just know it.” You looked back towards Roger who seemed to be lost in thought until he noticed your eyes on him. He gave you a tight lipped smile and wiggled his eyebrows before you looked back up at Tim. 

“Oh, by the way this is Freddie Bulsara. He goes to Ealing with me. He’s a friend and a big fan of our music. You don’t mind if he stands backstage with you while we’re on, do you?” Tim said as he gestured to the black haired man beside him.

“Oh not at all! The more the merrier!” you spoke leaning to get a better look at Freddie as he gave you a wide smile. 

“Great! We’re on in four minutes, so we should probably head back inside,” Tim peered at his watch before guiding you and the others through the door. You were too busy putting out your cigarette to notice Roger taking another long sip from the flask while he looked at the way Tim held your hand. 

Once inside you gave Brian a pat on the back as you reassured him of your confidence in his musical abilities. Just before the band was announced to go on stage Tim leaned down so his face was level with yours.

“Give me a kiss so I do well,” he pointed to his mouth and you giggled. You pressed your lips firmly against his, savoring the feeling that came with it. You pulled away and he grabbed his bass as the announcer introduced the band. Brian went on stage first with his guitar strung around his torso, followed quickly by Tim. Freddie stepped up beside you, trying to get a better view of the stage. As Roger went to step from behind the curtain, you remembered what he told you earlier about his nerves in the parking lot. You grabbed his shirt, pulling him backwards, and planted a soft kiss to his cheek before releasing his shirt from your grasp. He looked at you with wide eyes, red cheeks, and a slacked jaw as he slowly walked backwards to get to the stage. His eyes never left yours, even as he approached the curtain that blocked him from the audience’s view. 

“For good luck!” you shouted as he walked on stage with a smile plastered across his face. 

Taglist: @retromusicsalad @bohemiansweede

[yeoldontknow]

It Was The Night: 5

Author’s Note: WE FINALLY MET CHANYEOL!! lmao thank you all for coming on this little journey with me. im so sad it’s coming to a close *wails* enjoy!! Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; female) Genre: historical au; drama; suspense; romance Rating: PG Word Count: 2,487

V.

These days, I view our first meeting as little more than a game or an act of pretense, something a child or lonely woman, desperate to be loved, might imagine during their empty and sleepless nights. So distant was he from me that I assumed it all a dream or a trick, spent my evenings imagining perhaps one of the other children had put on a rouse to fill me with hope or, more likely, to embarrass me in the harsh light of day.

Shrouded in darkness, he cleaved desperately to his secret, though I suppose it served the purpose he intended. All his mystery and carefully chosen words fanning the flames of my blood. Brilliant, as always, and tearing straight through to the heart of me, as though he had known me all along. Looking back, I suppose he did.

From that moment, I became plagued by Aeon Smith, by his person and the idea of him. As the days passed, I felt tormented, perpetually ruminating over his existence and the truth of his name. Rather, not a name but a title, similar to that of a soldier. To me, he continued to remain nameless, paradoxically identifiable without an identity, and this only served to bewilder me beyond the comprehension of my imagination.

I am the son.

Infuriating, to know the what of a man before knowing the who. Or rather, no, I find this declaration unfair. In music and in letters, he had done nothing but reveal himself to me - always, he was baring his soul to me, presenting himself as though he were naked, skinned down to the bone to display all his ugliest parts.

Every dissonant chord penned by his quill was an exposure of a flaw, one of his flaws, and I was moved into loving and appreciating them with all of myself. Every major chord was a virtue, and therefore it was easy to adore those pieces, easy to love and understand them, to want them all over me as a slight fall of rain, but it was his dissonance, the anger and wrath of his heart and mind that became the subtle clues I mulled over for weeks on end.

From that night forward, we met weekly, always in the chapel and always under the cover of night. It was not long before the skin of my bare feet became immune to the ice and the cold of the floor, no longer quivering in the chill; not long before I hardly needed a candle to guide my way, eventually only taking it to add a sliver more light to the room in the hopes of seeing his face.

Rarely did he allow himself to lean into it.

My favourite nights were filled with moonlight, nights when the sky was clear of clouds and the moon, unwavering her adoration of his features, made it difficult for him to hide from me. One night delivered me the perfect curvature of his upper lip, pink and swollen, unkissed yet desperate to be so; another, the peak of his ear, glorious and glowing, the redness of the blood beneath his skin flickering in time with light of my candle’s flame.

The night that lingers most in my memory, perfect and immortal, tangible as though it happened not twelve hours previous, was the night he finally got close, close enough for me to see the sleek line of his nose, its mole, its angle, the way in scrunched impishly in disagreement. This moment, this simple gift from the universe, the slant of light along the slope of his nose, said so much more about him than words ever could, I thought.

Most nights, he sat at the organ and I in a pew, eyes scanning the room for signs of him or stray letters, focused yet searching like a child during prayer. Our conversations moved as though they were part of a maze, topics winding through and between music, art, history, sometimes even love. Love, though our words never formed the sentiments of romance, never brought shape to confessions of feelings kept locked tightly away inside our hearts, rather simply breathed life into our affections for philosophy, for music, and even God.

It was our tenth meeting when I arrived in low spirits, feeling tired and feeling somewhat lost, capsizing, perhaps, in a sea of performance exhaustion and unrequited love. With a single wax seal it had become clear to me who he was, the son of our illustrious House owner Monsieur Park, but the colourful details of his existence eluded me. Where one answer was found, more questions seemed to arise, coated with sadness and tragedy. As an heir to a fortune, surely his family would celebrate his existence, and yet, it seemed I was to be the only one who could bear his secret, joining him in fielding its burdensome weight.

As I approached the chapel, I could feel the thickness of the atmosphere, and stifled a cough as I felt my lungs become tight with expectation. There was an air of change and divergence saturating the stones the Opera House, the performance of Aintogona now well established in its run and feeling more like routine rather than a moment of excitement, all of us suddenly eager for new roles, new experiences, new lives to wear upon our flesh. My hands were shaking, taught and strung like the strings of a violin, cracked raw, when I pushed open the chapel doors, letting my fingers graze along the ornate patterns carved into the wood.

Hesitant, trembling, and always aching for him.

That night, he was playing a hymn, slow and filled with mourning, the wail of a broken heart carried within the notes of the bass clef. My angel caressed the nature of grief much the same as he stroked the keys, heavy with a familiar sort of longing that made me close my eyes. For a moment, we remained this way, he playing for me as though he were yearning for my presence and I swaying as though adrift at sea, basking in a reverence that bored its way down into my soul.

‘You’re late.’

There was no error or falter in his fingers as he spoke, his voice moving amongst the notes as though creating a staccato melody. At the sound, I opened my eyes, greedy and wishing to be greeted by the sight of him, but was met only with the elegant line of his shoulder in the moonlight as he moved in time with the music.

Contentious and indignant at his complaint, I dropped my hands to my hips and released a heavy sigh. Looking back, I think I was mostly upset to interrupt the hymn, my voice somehow too ugly to penetrate the din. ‘It could not have been more than a few minutes.’

‘Yes, but I am eager.’ At this, he stopped playing, as though his honesty was a confession meant only for the ears of God. He curled in on himself then, looking more like a lost boy than a man of imposing greatness, and my heart broke for him.

Hope like gold moved about my blood, my tongue licking at the word to fixate on its meaning and implication. But still, I could not see him, not truly, and therefore I could not read his motive.

‘Eager?’ I repeated, somewhat breathless.

‘I am always eager in the anticipation of you,’ he conceded, and it was then that he turned from the organ. The light splayed across the smooth line of his neck and I felt my heart begin to splinter, the sword of longing tearing through the muscle and turning my breath stale.

Feeling somewhat apprehensive, I looked to my feet, studying my arches and the shape of my toes as I spoke. ‘You’re teasing,’ I whispered, wholly unsure he would hear me at all.

At this a low rumble resonated in his chest, the sound almost wolfish and youthful. ‘It is not in my nature to tease.’

Cocking an eyebrow, I smirked. ‘On the contrary,’ I said with a small giggle, ‘I find you to be quite playful.’

‘An insult,’ he laughed, rich and deep, the sound of it echoing around the chapel and into my bones. By this sound alone, I found I was warmed.

‘See?’ I said, biting my lip as I shook my head, slowly and rendered in awe. ‘Even there, your laugh is too gentle. It glides into the mouth, like chocolate from Spain.’

The smallness of my voice turned him curious, even worrisome, had him leaning into the light more than he normally would - just enough for me to see the rich brown of his hair. ‘You seem distant from me.’

Once more, I sighed, brow furrowed. ‘Then come closer,’ I whined, fraught with an unrelenting desire to have and keep him close.

‘No,’ he countered gently, ‘in your eyes you are absent, plagued.’

‘I know who you are.’

The words fell from my lips in a rush, impatient for him to hear them, impatient for him to know I had discerned the truth the moment my fingers stroked the sealing wax of his letter. Perhaps this was the air of change I had sensed throughout the Opera House, the winds of knowledge morphing our relationship from something of an amorphous shape, something youthful and fanciful to something now wholly unrecognizable, contorted beneath the weight of honesty, and forcing us to confront what we both dreaded to know was true.

This, however pure and beautiful this existence was, could no longer continue. 

At that moment, we were both challenged to hold and fondle the concept of purpose - his purpose to move behind walls and mine to be the only one who could know him. I scowled, then, caught between an unwilling acceptance to let the joy of him go and the need to bring him into the light. Perhaps, I was selfish then, though, in the case of him, I cannot say I ever stopped. 

For several moments, silence lingered between us, the sounds of our breaths the only noise that rustled and turned our minds to distractions. Thoughts laid themselves bare behind my eyes, numerous and needy. Did he think me intrusive? Had I been rude? Had I revealed my nature and proved myself unworthy of his presence?

Above me, I heard him shift, leaning over in keen interest and breaking the tension that had started to build. Unmoving, I kept my gaze trained on his black form, eyes trying to prise him from the clutches of darkness.

‘I’d like to hear you say it,’ he said simply, deep voice echoing through the chapel.

With a shaking inhale of breath, I steadied myself and searched within my blood for the lost fragments of my courage. ‘You’re Monsieur Park’s son.’

Simple, I thought, and yet he seemed to make it so unbearably complicated.

Leaning back, his voice came to me as though he were satisfied with my answer. ‘And so you know why I must hide.’

‘The sex of your birth means you have no reason to hide,’ I sighed, suddenly painfully aware of my circumstance and station.

A star I might become, but still the age of my expected marriage and the transformation of my wages to that of a dowry always loomed painfully over my head. At every turn I was reminded of my sex, of the rules and etiquette that came with it. For a moment, I became bitter, saddened that our meetings were all at once tarnished by this implication.

He, a man, a son, desired more than my sex, a regretful daughter, even if he did not want to bear his family’s name.

‘But what of circumstance?’ he questioned with a cock of his head, visible only in the shift of light around his skin.

‘What of it?’ I scoffed. ‘You are an heir to a fortune, an empire. Your family is the heart of the city.’

He matched my tone, sounding almost as though he meant to scold me, though the cadence of his words remained even. ‘Do you think I run from it?’

‘Do you not want it?’ I countered, tone quizzical.

Movement filtered throughout the floorboards of the chapel, his footsteps seeming to carry through the dome of the roof and surrounding me from all sides.

‘Who wouldn’t want this?’ he said, voice suddenly behind me. I turned, then, desperate to catch a glimpse of him. ‘A life such of this?’

Tired of his games, my laugh turned incredulous. ‘You claim to want it yet you scorn it! Why do you turn it away as though it vexes you?’

Behind me once more, towards the front of the chapel, he was close enough that I could hear and feel his breath against my neck. His presence warmed me, a shiver tracing the bones of my spine as I quaked with his nearness. All of my heart and all of my soul wanted to turn, my heart battling against the constricting cage of my chest, but my synapses remained hesitant, wary, unable to break the fantasy of him. I had learned to crave him as a phantasm, and was forced now to witness the reality of him. 

The fact that he was indeed flesh and bone and breathing, seemed too much to bear.

‘What became of Adam and Eve when they disobeyed?’ he whispered, soft and seductive, words laced with the strenuous gravity of symbolism.  

‘They were cast out,’ I said simply, biting my lip as my eyes fluttered shut.

‘Thus I am a thing born of sin.’

His hands fell to my shoulders, his fingers warm and strong. At once, I reclined into him, into his touch, a sigh falling from my lips as my skin began to feel tight around my body. Wings, I thought, were trying to be born from my back, wings of love and desire, but my corporal form prevented me from taking flight beneath his strong hold.

My voice trembled as I spoke, stripping away all my pretenses of rational thought and revealing me as a weak thing, a lustful thing. ‘Aren’t we all?’

‘But what if my father cannot cast himself out?’ he pressed, pulling me back against him and spaying his arms over my hips and stomach. I was trapped against him. Trapped against him and the true nature of his existence.

‘You’re illegitimate,’ I gasped, incredulous.

Against my neck, I felt him nod, his lips giving shape to the words that clarified all my questions.

‘Illegitimate and unwanted.’

Had he only known then how badly I wanted him, how badly I needed him. With his heart beating as a drum against the tense muscles of my back, I resolved then to ensure he felt wanted and desired and needed. Not just by me, by my weary and heavy heart, but by the world.

[wp-yahoo-style-1042-yahoopa-blog]

Rebel Wilson says she wasn't fat shamed — but the internet disagrees

Rebel Wilson is one of Hollywood’s most in-demand comedic actresses, known primarily for her role as “Fat Amy” in the Pitch Perfect films. But on Tuesday she announced a new addition to her résumé when she revealed her gorgeous photo on the cover of Vogue Australia.

Rebel Wilson graces the cover of Vogue Australia’s June issue. (Photo: Nicole Bentley for Vogue Australia)

“I never would’ve thought this element would be added to my life: Vogue Covergirl,” she wrote on Instagram and Twitter. “This was such an amazing experience, thank you Vogue Australia and to all the designers and stylists who worked on this shoot!”

Appearing in a long brown trench coat and a black gown, Wilson raved about the work of the stylists on the shoot. However, Wilson’s fans have taken offense at the way she appears in the billowy look.

“I think it’s so amazing they put you on the cover and I adore you,” one follower wrote, “but I’m so sad they drowned you in fabric.” Another echoed the sentiment, writing, “You don’t need that giant coat to cover up your beauty.”

But criticism aimed at the high-fashion magazine continued when others suggested that Wilson might even appear Photoshopped.

“She doesn’t even have recognizable wrists,” someone commented. “They widened her smile and she was always naturally beautiful.” Another said: “They altered the photo. Look at her face and hands. Slimmed down. Why can’t they just show her in her natural beauty?”

Soon after, Wilson provided a response herself, assuring followers that she wasn’t Photoshopped by the publication to appear slimmer. Instead, she admitted to a bit of diet and exercise before the big shoot.

Nope, not slimmed down! I just ate healthy and exercised for the month before the shoot x but then immediately after ate brownies!

— Rebel Wilson (@RebelWilson) May 22, 2018

And when the shaming comments continued, Wilson went so far as to provide photographic evidence of the raw photos versus what appeared in the magazine.

Oh and just so you can see the raw v’s the magazine shot, I took a monitor photo myself on the day of the shoot! So please don’t carry on that these shots are heavily photoshopped because they’re not! pic.twitter.com/7DcgO4hZ3a

— Rebel Wilson (@RebelWilson) May 22, 2018

The side-by-side images received a ton of feedback as well, with fans coming to Wilson’s defense by calling those who claimed the photos were Photoshopped offensive.

Most people cannot possibly think that beautiful is more than stick thin. #Stunning #smart #standingup. #morewomenlikeus

— Kara Holdom (@HoldomKara) May 22, 2018

You shouldnt have to explain yourself to those trolls hun, they have nothing better to do, being in vouge is a massive achievement and you deserve it! you look absolutely beautiful xx

— Rachel (@rachellynch8) May 22, 2018

Why would they be photoshopped??? You are always stunning, you don't need such thing as photoshop

— Sandra (@SoyNeyYT) May 22, 2018

It never even crossed my mind that they were. I wish people would pause, take a deep breath, and think before they speak. It’s annoying. There’s not a single part of you that needs photoshopping because I think you’re stunning. Clearly Vogue agree

— Lexi (@LexiEvans151095) May 22, 2018

However, it wouldn’t be the first time that readers have seen plus-size models and actresses appear in oversized clothes on magazine covers, as if to hide their bodies.

Back in 2013, Melissa McCarthy was at the center of a similar controversy when she appeared on the cover of Elle in a large green coat. The immediate reaction from people who saw the cover was that the publication was to blame for intentionally covering up the actress. However, like Wilson, McCarthy came to her own defense to say that she chose the coat herself and loved the way she looked in it.

Other magazines have been accused of cutting out the bodies of their curvier models entirely and showing only the faces of the plus-size women they feature. From Gabourey Sidibe’s Elle cover in 2010 to nearly every magazine that Adele has covered, this has been the case.

But regardless of the intentions of any of these publications, many of Wilson’s fans agreed that the Vogue Australia cover is an accomplishment worth celebrating.

You deserve to be a Vogue Covergirl and don't forget it!! Congrats on the beautiful cover!

— J (@JussChris23) May 22, 2018

You deserve it and every great thing that happens for you. You are incredible.

— Tela the Spy (@LilahStephens) May 22, 2018

What an amazing cover, you look awsome, such a inspration

— Rachel (@rachellynch8) May 22, 2018

Read more from Yahoo Lifestyle:

• What Popular Magazine Covers Would Look Like With Curvy Models • People are freaking out about Britney Spears’s face: ‘Such a shame’ • Ashley Graham shares new underwear campaign after sending message to ‘haters’

Follow us on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter for nonstop inspiration delivered fresh to your feed, every day.