#this saturday. real people are coming and a real musician is opening | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starlostseungmin · 9 months

Text

style, 1989 ─── musician from next door.

masterlist. playlist. preview.

✰ pairing — musician!jisung x f. reader (with she and her as pronouns)

✰ genre — nsfw (18+), he fell first she fell harder (kinda??) semi-fake dating trope

✰ warnings — profanity, explicit sexual content, dom!jisung, creampie, cunninglus, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), petnames, lots of making-out, consumptions of alcohol, clubbing, please let me know if i missed something, not proofread.

✰ word count — 13.3k

✰ songs that were used for inspiration — style by taylor swift, meddle about by chase altantic, moonlight by dhruv, r u mine? by arctic monkeys, don't say by han jisung (unreleased), mixtape: time out by stray kids

✰ notes — this was supposed to be posted for han’s birthday last year but unfortunately i got busy with uni. BUT HERE IT IS AND please open these tiktok links here and here (this hit me with a huge inspiration to continue to write the fic). REBLOGGING AND LEAVING A FEEDBACK WOULD BE APPRECIATED.

✰ tags — @lix-ables , @lilacjeongin , @alyszaen , @djeniryuu , @ppiri-bahng , @notastraykid , @skzfelixlove , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @ohish , @comet-falls , @mrswolfiechan , @rachabreathing , @iadorethemskz , @minluvly , @dreamingsmile , @flirtyskzbutterfly , @tangylemonade , @gwynsapphire , @annispamz , @surefornext , @seungincore , @skz1-4-3 , @zoe8stay , @seungly

NSFW CONTENTS UNDER THE CUT. mdni.

The strum of his electric guitar echoed across the room as he played the instrumentals of the song he was performing with the band. A smirk was perfectly painted on his lips as his fingers were adorned with rings played with the strings. Purple, red, blue, orange, and yellow lights illuminated the stage as the white smoke crawled on the floor to collide with the band. His voice reverberated through the crowded room with his lips moved as if he was making out with the microphone. Screams and shouts, his name is famous—Han Jisung of Mist.

Many people have been eyeing him ever since his band was introduced to the public and the 5-STAR Restoclub tried to hire them. Unfortunately, Jisung refused but the offer as guests didn’t make him say No. Many of the customers come for food and entertainment but mainly for him after they heard that he’s performing. Jisung doesn’t want to understand the hype for his looks but that’s how everyone thinks of him, a fucking dom-like energy, heavenly vocals, and visuals. The sounds of his guitar made the screams go wilder as it reached a blank chorus, only the instrumental. Hyunjin caught the beat when Jisung pushed his guitar behind his back, took the mic away from the stand, and walked to the extended stage to sing the second verse. His left arm reached out to the crowd, pointing to whoever it is as he let every lyric out of his mouth. The aggressiveness of his voice, from a growl to his average pitch. Jisung knows how to perform well.

You lost consciousness that night and all you can remember is how fucked up your situation was. Jisung saw you, of course, he was amused. But that didn’t matter to you as you were embarrassed by the fact that you had to drag Seungmin to your misery that night. From crying to drunk calling Hanbin after your break up to Jisung finally having his eyes on you and making out. It happened unexpectedly and he didn’t even help you out. Your best friend stood there frozen, unable to speak, but amused. He was about to spill everything to your mom, but you suddenly passed out.

The memory lingers as a smirk plastered on his face. It was a wild Saturday night anyway.

“We kissed?” You asked Seungmin who was sitting on your bed after he noticed you were already up.

“Yep,” The boy said, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“And I called Hanbin to take me back?” You asked again, nervous about every response he gave.

“Uh huh,” Seungmin answered again.

“That sounds bullshit to me, Seungmin,” You retorted.

“Nah, it was real. Saw it with my own eyes,” Seungmin said, rolling his eyes.

“Motherfuー why didn’t you stop me?!” You exclaimed as Seungmin confirmed the regret and disgust on your face.

“Your misfortune is my happiness, Y/n,” He laughed. “But yeah, I was enjoying your misery,” You hit him with a pillow, full of rage but, all you heard from him was giggles while dodging every hit he takes. Seungmin knows you won’t ever get mad at him for silly reasons, but last night was different. You knew it was your fault for acting stupid in front of him, and now you have kissed Jisung, the most popular member of Mist, and not just solely in Mist, but throughout Seoul. You buried your face in the soft pillow you used to hit Seungmin and screamed your heart out, feeling all the embarrassment.

You knew you were more worried than facing Jisung than your ex. But Jisung doesn’t give a shit about it. The feeling lingers and the memory is still vivid. One making-out session made an impact on him.

They say everything stops moving when you finally have an eye-contact with someone who is destined to be with you. People freeze, time stops, the coffee poured into a mug halts as the conversations pause, and you see sparkles and flowers surrounding them.

It is bullshit.

That’s how Jisung believes it.

People these days rely on books and tv shows to define what love is like or how you’d meet the one who is meant for you. There’s nothing like that in the real world. Not everyone living on earth is lucky to find true love一even a musician who writes songs and sings about love.

Everyone gets the chance to love and be loved, a foreshadowing that is expected to come across. Jisung may do like someone, but as for experience, being in a relationship is like finding a needle in a haystack. Hookups don’t work, a one-night stand is not on the list, and blind dates make no difference. He wanted it genuine like how that one famous singer sings to her exes and describes how relationships can be.

Love is like a game with countless levels一first you have to find that person, meet that person, fall for that person, and earn their mutual perspective in return. It’s easy to fall just like the leaves in autumn but it takes time to bloom like the flowers in spring after winter. But in the blink of an eye, he may find someone who could make his world stop spinning for a while.

Sunday night, and he still thinks about you. His delicate fingers played with the mixer causing the loud music to echo through his black headphones. The slow banging of his head synchronizing to the beat got him preoccupied. Jisung didn’t know how late it was at night as his free hand wrote the words from his mind that formed into lyrics. The tip of his pen dances on the blank paper at a fast writing pace. His handwriting was barely readable. A busy week drove him insane, and a project in mind even if he has done it before didn’t immensely help him through.

But the thought of you is still bothering him.

A deep sigh escaped from his lips, disappointment draws the room at the end of the music. He wasn’t satisfied, the lyrics were too cringe. This is bullshit, he thought as he crumpled the paper with his messy writing, tossing it into the bin next to his keyboard. He leaned at the backrest of his chair, as it swiveled backward, hands on his face as he groaned in frustration while staring at the ceiling trying to invoke an idea一something that would wake up his soul to work, but, nothing. It was a significant requirement from the university, the sole reason why he stayed up all night in the studio he rented for another year. It was supposed to be a single song-making project for the finals. Compliance was supposed to be a fun thing to do for the sake of passing the course but it wasn’t always enthusiastic.

He wanted it to be special.

But his dilemma stopped when he realized how late it was.

“Shit,” He hissed under his breath and decided to take a look at the clock. His phone’s screen lit up with 3 digits in the center, 11:48 pm. “Fuck it’s almost 12,”

His headphones slid around his neck, taking everything to shove in the bag. He had to drag himself back to his working desk for double-checking before he left. Lights turned off, wires unplugged, Jisung closed the door behind him making sure it was locked, and later he was welcomed by the quiet and solemn highway, with few cars coming and going, streetlights stayed still with no people taking strolls, and stars illuminated the sky as his footsteps led him to the apartment which is only a block away from the studio. He saunters trying to think of something, but then again, nothing. His brain didn’t want to work, his body was fried, and it is always like that.

Jisung reached his apartment, and even riding the elevator to the 8th floor felt exhausting as well. He tossed his bag on the couch and went to the windows. White curtains were opened as he saw the view down the building. The moon shines so brightly, enough to give reflection to his glass windows and the other lights from the neighborhood. It was aesthetically pleasing to the eyes that he always enjoys at night. His fingers ran over his bangs, stroking them back to his head as he made his way toward the balcony. A long sigh escaped his lips, a weekend shouldn’t be wasted on a boring list of things.

He knew you are working until dawn again. The lights were off from the room next to him and it has been so quiet during nighttime. Jisung couldn’t blame you but it feels lonely not to have you next door when he’s home.

His phone suddenly lights up for a text message he received from a friend, a club invitation. It is a Sunday night anyway. A smirk formed on his lips from top to bottom一Jisung made a beeline toward his bedroom and changed clothes. An invitation from a friend to drink shouldn’t be ignored just like that, and being drunk on a weekend is like a necessary afterparty of a long-ass night. He left his apartment again, the club is far away from home.

The timing is great. He wanted to see you again.

It was all black, yellow, and white lights, time on the box, and cold air. The smooth rolling of tires on the asphalt and music from the radio made the stillness of his car a bit dramatic. The blinding lights welcomed him, a variety of colors dancing with the people around. Loud music and the scent of cigarettes and vape mixed with intoxicating alcohol, he was amused. It wasn’t his first time visiting a place like this, thanks to Hyunjin who is a party animal, he gets dragged every time, and also because of the gig with the band. He didn’t even care about the time and maybe going home at 5 in the morning would still feel like evening.

Songs with intense structures were played suddenly as he stood a few steps away from the entrance. His bandmates, slash, best pals, Hyunjin, and Minho were behind him, sipping their drinks or screaming at the top of their lungs with the others. Jisung’s eyes immediately looked to the counter to taste interesting drinks. He smiled at his two friends before walking himself through the wild crowd and managed to keep his eardrums safe from the loudspeakers below the stage.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips and was later formed into a smile of triumph but what can he say about his thoughts about love when his time suddenly stopped and everything had gone in slow motion the moment he saw you from the counter, smiling at Chan? Someone could serve him his words on a platter and Jisung would have it as his breakfast. His heart suddenly started beating faster than the normal pace. Was it love at first sight? No, he had seen you before around campus, many times and you kissed. It was different from last night. A miserable damsel in distress to the bright sunshine in front of him.

Jisung stopped in his tracks and his heart went insane when you finally had eye contact with him after diverting your gaze from your dear co-worker. People passed by, and the sounds suddenly died down between you and him, he was looking at you as you stared back. He stood there, frozen. Jisung is very familiar but never became a friend and you were no stranger to him either. He likes you for a while now. But even if he does, he is not sure how to express it, not even in the songs he wrote.

From his perspective, he knew he is in love. Yet it falls differently on your end, you were embarrassed. You spent the whole afternoon thinking about what happened last night. If it wasn’t for Seungmin reminding you about it, you already had gone feral. And you did. It was a stupid act of disgust that would haunt you for the rest of your life. What your problem is, how to face him and apologize for being such an embarrassing nitwit with a broken heart? Fuck that asshole, it’s already been three fucking months! Thanks to your dumbass ex-boyfriend, for cheating on you. His number is currently plastered on the recent calls you had. The phone number you always memorized that you can type without looking at the keypads.

But you can’t do anything now, he’s here.

A smile formed on his face and a hint of redness surfaced on your cheeks一your smile faded and remembered what Seungmin told you the morning after what happened.

“So you work here,” He said, leaning against the flat surface. Exchanging conversations wasn’t your thing before, but one should take the first step in everything.

“Yeah,” You smirked, trying to be cool despite what happened. “What can I get you?

“One martini please,”

“This one’s in the house,” You smiled, hoping he wouldn’t bring up your make-out session.

“Really?” He beamed. “Thanks Y/n,”

“You know my name?” You asked, handing him the small glass.

“Of course,” He nodded. “You’re in my music class and we’re just living right next to each other’s door. I’m Jisung by the way,” He added, handing out his hand for a shake.

“I know,” You said, taking his hand. It would be a lie that his heart melted the moment he was able to touch your hand一there was a spark to him. “Nice meeting you, I guess, we don’t interact,” You added.

“Well, I guess we need to socialize more,” He smiled. “But I have to check on the guys first, I’ll be back in a sec,” He added and immediately dashed through the crowd leaving you dumbfounded. You just prevented embarrassing yourself for the second time! It was hard to keep it to yourself.

“Way to go,” You said as you saw Chan smirking at you, making his way to receive orders.

“Damn,” Jisung sighs.

“What’s up with you?” Minho asked, noticing his friend’s dilemma. Hyunjin was quick enough to involve himself in the gossip and scooted closer to the couch.

“Did you embarrass yourself?” Hyunjin asked.

“No!” Jisung retorted. “That girl from the bar一”

“We know,” Minho said, rolling his eyes. “You made out with her last night,”

“You wanted to hook up now?” Hyunjin teased, drinking his lime juice when Jisung smacked his head, causing him to blow the drink off of his mouth. “What the fuck?!”

“A crush, maybe?” Minho smirked.

“Dude, what am I? A high school teenager?” Jisung scoffed, denying the giddiness.

“Ask her out! Fuck you,” Hyunjin retorted, wiping his lips.

“Too scared,” Jisung said, rolling his eyes.

“How about a bet?” Minho said, wiggling his brows with a sly smirk plastered on his face.

“Sounds dangerous,” Hyunjin butted in.

“Pssh,” Minho hissed. “Come on man, it’s your chance to hook up.”

“Shut up, Lee,” Hyunjin hissed as Minho glared at him.

“I’m still contemplating,” Jisung sighed.

“Dude, you kissed her,” Minho pointed out as Jisung looked at him. “Go.”

Jisung took a deep breath while looking into Minho’s eyes. Hyunjin went to mind his drink as he heard the younger one sigh in response. It only took one push to build his confidence.

“Fine,” He said, placing the drink on the table and disappearing into the crowd. Meanwhile, you sat on a stool high chair watching everyone have the time of their lives. The counter was already busy as you and Chan were taking turns. Jisung came back in a blink of an eye as he took the seat across from you as you made his drink. “Y/n,”

Here he is again. You thought.

“Hey,” You smiled, leaning on the counter.

“I shouldn’t be going around asking this but, do you want to go out with me?” He said, smirking at the idea which made you scoff in response.

“No,” You told him. “And that one martini is 12,000 won,” You said, rolling your eyes, leaving his drink served in front of his face before moving away. Jisung clicked his tongue and looked at Hyunjin and Minho who were watching you leave. Way to go wasting a free drink, Jisung!

“She’s not into you,” Minho chuckled, approaching his dear friend and wrapping his arm around Jisung’s neck.

“Try harder dude,” Hyunjin said, taking the drink away from Jisung’s hand before taking a sip.

“She’ll say yes eventually,” Jisung said, looking at you serving a table a few meters away. You caught him staring again and rolled your eyes in response.

“Just make sure she will,” Minho winked.

“She will. And Hyunjin, that’s my drink,” Jisung hissed at the tall boy when he realized his Martini was stolen.

“What? I’ll pay for it,” Hyunjin defended.

“Y/n! Can you take out the trash please?” The senior barista said, earning their attention, Hyunjin nudged Jisung as Minho kept watching your move. After going back to serving a few customers their drinks, you headed back to the staff’s room to execute the request. Jisung immediately got the message and went straight to the back door, surprising you the moment you threw the trash into the bins.

“Hey,” He said.

“Whatever it is, I’m not interested,” You said, trying to get back inside.

“Y/n, just hear me once, okay? I like you,” He said, blocking your way in. A sigh escaped your lips, crossing your arms on your chest while watching him.

“What?” You asked.

“I’m sure you heard me,” He said. “I’m asking you out,”

“Jisung, I,” You sighed. “Look, a single sip from a Martini won’t make you drunk enough to come up to me and just confess right away. And I can’t go out with you especially when I don’t have feelings for you,” You said, making him frown.

“But we kissed,” He pursued, which made you so red.

“That doesn’t count,” You defended. “It was a mistake and I was so drunk,”

“I don’t care about that Y/n,” He said. “Just give me a month,” He added as you stared at him for a few seconds.

“No,” You retorted, pushing him out of the way and going back to the bar. Jisung sighed harshly and ruffled his hair, it’s going to be a long way to make you say yes.

He followed you back inside and grabbed a drink, joining Hyunjin and Minho at their table, already tipsy. Jisung sat down, crossing his legs and an arm extended on the backrest of their couch. The drink is filled with ice, but the stare you gave him was burning with disgust. He could only shrug and give you a sly smile because you know he will never let you go that easy. Minho and Hyunjin exchanged looks一the older boy suddenly shoved tissues in Hyunjin’s mouth out of nowhere. It was so random that Jisung failed to notice.

Your rounds kept going, with endless orders and requests, the music was too loud and out of your taste. If it wasn’t for your uncle’s request to make you work in such a place, you wouldn’t be staying up all night during the weekends. But you can’t deny that the pay is good enough to spend on your needs and wants, especially when he gives you special treatment because you are indeed his niece. You want to make him proud for taking you in, and you tried to stay out of trouble each night of your shift, but sometimes, something happens eventually. Like the boy who can’t stop watching you.

Han Jisung.

You’ve known him since freshman year but you rarely talk because of his different circle of friends. He might be a colleague but never a friend一one of the best students in the music department, one that you tend to avoid. You shared a few classes with him before, and now that you’re one of the seniors now—you’re stuck with him for having the same majors. Ignoring him will be the best, but that’s what you thought. He’s not the type to give up on you easily.

Hours passed by, and Hyunjin and Minho passed out on the couch while everyone left, Jisung tried to be as sane and formal as possible—although he laid a few bottles empty on the table. Chan nudged at your shoulder, pouting his lips towards the godforsaken people at table number eight. He sighed in disappointment as he wiped the glasses he washed a few minutes ago. You craned your neck to check, only to find out Jisung was already drowsy and useless like the other two. Too much of a single drink, eh? You shake your head and go back to Chan.

“You need to drive them home,” You told him.

“I know,” He sighed. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah,” You replied. “I need to get that idiot home,” You added, pointing at Jisung.

“Right, I’ll finish these up then we’ll go,” Chan giggled. “Those punks are useless right now,” Giving Chan a small smile, you finished cleaning the table and went to the staff’s room to change, leaving the old boy to figure out what to do with his friends. Poor Chan had to assist Minho first while you took care of Hyunjin, heading to Jisung’s car. They were piled up on the backseat and saved the best for the owner. He was still conscious when you and Chan dragged him away. Gibberish lyrics came out of his mouth, singing a familiar song—loud and out of tune. He smells exactly what he consumed.

“Stupid,” Chan laughed.

Morning arrived and you heard a knock on your door after passing out on the couch the moment you were done with everyone. You didn’t even notice Chan leaving at 6 am as you were both exhausted一the guys were heavy for 2 people to assist and a loud one to deal with. You never felt so tired ever since you started your job, maybe it was the first time you saw the club so packed and a lot of customers wanted to be served first. It felt like you’d been flying from left to right.

Dragging yourself up at 10 am is already tiring. You are already considering quitting having the lack of sleep on the weekends, even the school does the same to you—nothing spares such a busy person. Grabbing the doorknob, you inspected the person through the small hole in your door. It was Jisung who looked like he was just woken up. A sigh escaped your lips and opened it. Fixing yourself didn’t matter anymore, anyway. You stared at him for a while, disheveled hair, crumpled clothes, bloodshot eyes, and wearing socks without shoes—this boy is a mess.

“Good morning?” You greeted him as he started fidgeting his fingers.

“Ah, yes good morning,” He said, still having that alcohol scent.

“What do you want?” You asked with a stern look, asking him to hurry.

“I wanted to say thank you to you and Chan hyung,” He said. “This is about what happened a few hours ago, I still have a headache right now but, I need to see you first,” He smiled.

“Okay?” You said.

“Yeah,” He answered, rubbing his nape. “Y/n, I’m sorry about last night, but, I also wanted to say that I’m persistent when it comes to the things that I like.” He said. “And by that, what I mean is, I won’t give up until you say yes,”

“Jisung, you heard me last night and my answer is No,” You said. “There are a lot of people out there, think about it, okay? And take a rest,” You smiled.

“Y/n, I like you! I swear.” He said.

“Have a nice day, Han.” You responded and closed the door in his face, leaving the poor boy dumbfounded.

Jisung sighed and started to space out, his body is not even healed yet from too much consumption of alcohol. He started at nothing for a while before he could get back to reality and scratched his head, moving back to his apartment. His two attempts to get you to say yes, failed. But just like what you observed about him, he is not the type to give up on something he wants so easily. And things will turn into something more interesting than ‘just talking’.

The night fell, and another shift will come to occur. School is not the only one fucking you up. Chan welcomed you with a big smile on his face. The club usually opens at 8 pm on the weekdays but starting on Friday nights to Sunday go to by 9 instead. He was busy setting up the chairs and mopping the floor while you checked on the menu. Other employees started to gather as well and the bouncers prepared for the opening. Scenarios of the club are always the same, the customers may be different people each night, yet it is always the loud music and screams of people. Swearing, drinking, kissing, and laughing, they go all over the place. People are becoming wilder every minute—it doesn’t surprise you anymore.

But surprisingly, Jisung showed up in the same place where you got him a drink.

“You’re still up for another hangover?” You asked, leaning against the counter. “What can I get you?”

Jisung just chuckled and shook his head, “I’m not drinking tonight,”

“Are you sure? What are you doing here then?”

“I’ll wait for you until your shift is done,” He said, making you look confused. “I’ll be less trouble tonight Y/n, I promise, just let me stay here,”

“You’re up to something, are you?” You said.

“If your answer is still No, I’m not going to stop just like that,” He smirked.

“Suit yourself, Han,” You scoffed and went to make a drink. Jisung just smiled at the end, maybe this bet will make him get closer to you after all. He watched the area filled with the intoxicating scent of alcohol and cigarettes—he wasn’t amused, nor his type. But the fact that you are working here, staying is worth it. He was immersed in everything even with the blinding lights and the singer up on stage, it was an interesting love song to sing in a club. “Sparkling Cucumber Mint Lemonade,”

“I didn’t order anything,” Jisung said, snapping back in your direction.

“It’s on me this time, I won’t charge you like last night,” You smiled, hugging the tray. “Don’t worry it’s not alcoholic,”

“Thanks,” He said, taking a good sip of a free drink. “This is good,”

“I know right? Enjoy your stay, I need to get to work,” You said. “Are you sure you will wait for me?”

“Yeah, my band is on break and there’s no work for me to be done so don’t mind me,” He smiled, taking another sip of it.

“Okay,”

The night flew by, customers slowly faded through the door leaving all their energy at the place, Jisung fell asleep on the counter as Chan kept an eye on him. You just got out of the staff’s room after changing clothes and are now being left with a sleeping Han Jisung. Chan smiled at you, motioning to take care of him while he closed the club—Jisung had already passed out and you were anxious to wake him up.

“Just try to shake him gently,” Chan said, and so you did.

“Han?” You called.

“Hmm?” He hummed in response, sitting up as he rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”

“4 am,” You answered as he sighed heavily.

“Do you want me to drive you home? It’s so late,” Jisung said, looking at you. “Let me take you and Chan hyung,”

“No, no, don’t worry about me, I have my motorbike outside,” Chan said. “Just take Y/n home, I’ll leave in a bit,”

“Okay, be careful on your way, yeah?” You told him.

“Yep, and you too,”

Jisung walked out of the club first as you followed him, hands shoved into his pockets while you tightened your grip on the straps of your bag. You can’t deny saying it is kind of sweet to have him waiting for you all night but the thought of pursuing you for a bit doesn’t sit right with you. It’s rare to have someone waiting for you for hours, Chan is an exception for he is a good friend of yours—but nothing like Jisung. You feel bad about it.

He opened the door for you to enter and you bowed lightly with a small Thank you before getting in. You watched him close the door and jogged his way around the car to settle on the driver’s seat, driving away in silence.

“Care to tell me what’s this all about?” You asked him.

“As I said I’m not giving up that easily until I get you to say Yes,” He said, eyes focused on the road.

“I know,” You scoffed and had the atmosphere go quiet for a while. You were still in deep thought about what happened between you and Jisung the other night and never had the chance to apologize properly for it. Seungmin already gave the details for he had witnessed everything.

And that’s when you remembered,

The music was loud and Seungmin just sat there at your table, watching you get wasted. Mist wasn’t the one singing on the stage that night. Hyunjin and Minho went home, Chan went to help at the counter and Jeongin rested beside Seungmin. Felix and Changbin weren't there. You were chugging the Bacardi at a fast pace while enjoying the music, shouting the lyrics of the band’s cover of Day 1. Jisung decided to get a drink at the counter and planned to stand by for a few minutes before going home but Chan gossiped about Seungmin’s presence with you. He had to disregard Seungmin and Jeongin, talking on the couch as his attention was directed to you, he was amused.

Acknowledging that his glass was already empty and he placed it back on the top of the marbled counter as his feet dragged him to you. Hyunjin didn’t mind the crowd of people getting in his way, the loud music was banging his ears and the flash of lights was a pain.

“You’ll always be my day one~ Day zero when I was no one~”

You got dizzy after a few glasses of that horrid drink and mindlessly took your phone out from your bag and typed Hanbin’s number. A group of numbers that you will always remember even if you get drunk. Your phone pressed your ear, waiting for him to pick up, Seungmin was already alerted to your actions but he wasn’t aware of who it was. Jeongin suddenly fell asleep after the exhaustion from partying and shared a few words with the older boy but still ended up passing out. Seungmin raised a brow as he sat steadily on his seat, halting himself from drinking another glass.

“Hello?” Asked the one on the phone. You could barely hear it and decided to put it on loudspeaker.

“Ya, are you crazy?” You exclaimed. “How dare you cheat on me with that cheapass ugly bitch?” Seungmin sat there frozen. “Am I not enough? Am I not enough to give you everyー”

“Y/n stop that!” Seungmin said.

“Shut up, asshole,” You said, unconscious of the words coming out of your mouth. “Take me back!” You cried. Hanbin fell in silence as he listened to your sobs in between the loud music.

“Y/n! I swear,” Seungmin said standing up from his seat as he placed his glass on the table loud enough for Hanbin to pass the phone to his new one.

“Why did you cheat on me? We can work things out, Hanbin!” You said, not paying attention to your best friend who is now fucking frustrated. Jisung suddenly snatched your phone away, making you so mad, and yelled at him. He looked at the caller ID and smirked, passing it to Seungmin. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Piss off!” You heard Seungmin answer the phone.

“Give it back!” You exclaimed as Jisung grabbed your arm, pulling you towards him.

“Stop it, Y/n, you’re drunk,” He said.

“Who the fuck are you?! Let me go!” You yelled at him but instead of calming you down, his lips suddenly landed on yours.

Seungmin almost dropped your phone after he ended the call when he saw how smooth Jisung was. It made you stop babbling nonsense and finally melted into the kiss. He tasted the shitty drink inside your mouth but it didn’t stop him. His arm wrapped around your waist with your hands around his neck. Maybe you deserve it after the heartbreak though. You couldn’t identify what kind of drink painted his lips so sweetly as it collided with yours. His lips were soft as he kisses you gently. Seungmin’s jaw dropped and only a click away to inform your mother who’s living in the countryside. It wasn’t a chaste kiss but rather wild when you felt his tongue enter your mouth. You licked his tongue slowly sucking it before molding your lips with his, then suddenly, everything disappeared from that moment. It wasn’t the first time you ever kissed someone but Jisung’s lips felt different.

Your knees felt weak when he pulled you closer and deepened the kiss. His hand reached for your cheek, with a hint of nibbling at biting your lips. He may have gone excessively when he heard you whine under him which made him more eager. It wasn’t part of the plan to kiss you just to stop you from begging Hanbin and saying nonsense but it is the best way, for him, at least. The kiss got so overwhelming that Jisung felt your hands coming off his neck and suddenly passed out. Good thing you were inside his arms that he caught you right away. Seungmin almost died from shock but he didn’t help you either way. A smirk formed on Jisung’s lips as he carried you in bridal style.

“You should go,” He said.

“We will. Take care of Jeongin, he’s knocked out,” Seungmin answered. “Give me Y/n,”

He kissed you. Yes, he is persistent and faithful when it comes to the things he likes. He already gave proof of that. A sigh escaped from your lips and at the same time, you felt the redness of your cheeks. It was so hot that you started to fan yourself with your hand. You didn’t know why it suddenly felt better after suffering from that stupid breakup. It’s been three months now and you were so stupid to do such a thing.

And because of thinking too much, you didn’t even realize that you and Jisung were already in the parking lot of your apartment building.

“Y/n, we’re here—,”

“Damn, it was you?” You asked in disbelief. “You kissed me!”

“I did, so what?” Jisung laughed. “You want another one?” It was good if you are being honest with yourself.

“No!” You exclaimed as Jisung ran his fingers through his hair.

“Fine,” He scoffed. “But you’re going to give in if I do it either way,”

“You’re so full of yourself, Han,” You retorted.

“It’s me we’re talking about,” He said, cutting you off. “I’m not going to apologize for that. And I think you’re more worried about me than your ex huh?” He smirked.

“It was embarrassing and he was a douchebag, I care about my reputation more. And I’m sorry for acting stupid,” You sighed as you heard him laugh. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing, I am not expecting an apology from you Y/n, I thought you can do more than that,” He said.

“What do you mean?” You asked, confused.

“I already told you a few times that I like you and I admit I was disappointed that you had to fall and hit your head,” He scoffed. “Do I have to repeat it myself? I like you, and that fucking kiss wasn’t enough for me,”

“I think you’re speaking bullshit right now,” You said but before you could say anything further, you felt his lips crash onto yours. He said he’ll be less trouble tonight, but why are you wrapping your arms around his neck to respond to his kiss? Jisung is amazing but at the same time a jerk who kisses a person without permission. But on second thought, maybe you deserve to experience that once or maybe more than once.

His lips collided with yours, and both your eyes were closed, tasting the mint gum you had earlier and the hint of the Sparkling Cucumber Mint Lemonade you gave him. You felt his hand wrapped around your waist to pull you closer to him as his other hand rested on your nape. The kiss was softer this time, as your heart started to go crazy and suddenly made you feel weak in the knees. His lips were warm and soft as ever as he kissed you gently. You could feel his tongue pressed between your parted lips giving that soft ticklish licks but you had to snap out of it.

You pushed Jisung back to his seat as he licked his lips in annoyance, as to why. He ran his fingers through his hair and avoided your gaze as you stared at nowhere, unable to speak. You didn’t even say good night and left his car, leaving Jisung frustrated.

“Goddammit,” He hissed.

Jisung didn’t show up the next night but you find yourself, hoping for him to appear in front of you. It has been two days of pursuing you but it feels empty without him around. Chan noticed the energy you have but didn’t bother to spill it when you are busy with work. The night flew by in a blink of an eye either, a lot of customers were satisfied and made you distracted all night. You admit it was tiring that there were no energy boosters for you, Jisung isn’t even around. And you know exactly the reason why.

He kissed you, again.

You hate the fact that even if your reason was because of that break-up you had with Hanbin three months ago, you can’t blame the situation for being this stupid again. Jisung is persistent, you know that but opening up again made you hesitant. You’ve got nothing to offer in exchange for his feelings for you and Seungmin is nowhere to be found when you need advice. Meanwhile, you found yourself sitting across the counter instead of serving tables, other waiters were up for it, except you who just wanted to rest and listen to that dreadful love song the singer was singing. Chan also took a break from handling the cashier and sat beside you, enduring the exhaustion of work on the weekends.

“We might need a new singer,” He said. “I heard he’s quitting tonight. Do you know someone?”

“I don’t,” You answered.

“Sort of, but you’re a music major right? Maybe one of your classmates wanted a job or something, it’s just for the weekends anyway,” Chan shrugged.

“I’ll try to get someone that suits this type of vibe,” You reassured. “But don’t expect that someone will show up in a week, did you tell Uncle?”

“Yeah, he knows,” Chan said.

“Then I’ll start looking then,” You chuckled at him and went back to watching the singer’s last performance on the club’s stage.

And just like the other nights, Tuesday night passed by quickly and Wednesday morning came. The bright sunlight didn’t allow you to sleep on such a lovely morning—having not enough rest made you feel like a zombie during the whole day. Your classes will resume in the afternoon and you barely have time to rest. A sigh escaped your lips as you wore your shoes, indicating the moment of leaving your apartment. Jisung’s room was unusually quiet, with no instruments playing in the background nor hearing him singing his self-composed songs.

You never cared about it anyway.

Shrugging at the thought of it, you head to a cafe to have brunch with Seungmin. The boy was too focused on his laptop the moment you arrived and didn’t even notice your presence. Taking your usual order, you went back to his table and sat down across from him. His eyes were tired, his soul was exhausted, a coffee on his side and a half-eaten sandwich with it. He is a representation of the usual college student you see on campus during their hell week. But that also represents you.

“Good morning Y/n,” He said, still not taking his eyes from his laptop.

“Good morning, Seungmin,” You smiled. “Mind if I eat?”

“Not at all,” He replied. “I still need to finish my food as well,” He chuckled.

“How long have you been waiting?” You asked, munching on your favorite sandwich.

“Oh, I got here an hour early, I thought writing an essay in a café would help me finish it in no time,” He said, taking a sip of his iced americano. Seungmin drinks it like water. “Are you done with the homework?”

“Do you have to ask me that when I’m in my miserable state right now?” You asked.

“Well, I’m just really attentive so that you won’t miss anything.” He said. “Besides, we’re graduating this year,”

“I know,” You scoffed.

“How are things with you?” He asked, finally having his full attention to you.

“You know I was in distress these past few days because of what happened between me and Jisung,” You started. “And now he’s asking me out,” You added, looking at your coffee.

“I’m not surprised, he did mention he likes you,” He said so bluntly, making you look at him.

“So you knew?” You asked, making Seungmin shrug his shoulders.

“You’re probably the last person to know, Y/n,” He smirked. “Me and the rest of our friend group know. But I understand that you’re not really up for it since you and Jisung are not close enough to share intimate secrets with,” He chuckled.

“I hate you,” You scolded him.

“You don’t,” Seungmin replied, sipping his coffee.

“Damn,” You sighed in response as he watched you with a blunt expression written on his face.

“Anything else you want to tell me? Concerns?” He asked, munching his sandwich as you took a deep breath, making a sarcastic smile at him.

“Well, aside from Jisung, I have to ask you something,” You said.

“Spill,” He said, still munching that sandwich.

“Do you, perhaps, want to work at my Uncle’s club? The local singer resigned last night and we need a replacement to perform this weekend,” You said, making Seungmin stop eating.

“You want me?” He asked, closing his laptop while pointing at himself. “Y/n, I don’t think the vibe suits me, I’m more of a ballad type of person, you know?” He chuckled.

“But you’re a very good singer,” You whined.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I can,” He said politely. “Why don’t you ask Jisung, he loves trying different genres, I heard he’s into rock now.” Only a sigh escaped your lips as you took a bite of your food. “It’ll be a good advantage since he has a band, you know Mist right?”

“Yeah,” You said, pouting your lips. “But it’s kind of awkward between us right now,” You said.

“Because he likes you?” He asked as you gave him a nod. “Why don’t you give him a chance?”

“Let me think about it first,” You sighed.

Thinking about it led to a few hours later until you found yourself spacing out in a lecture. A hand supported your chin as your elbow rested on your desk—words from your professor just come in and out through your ears, nothing interesting to focus on. You shouldn’t be worrying too much when you have Chan who can fill up the position of the club’s singer. That man can make everyone swoon over him by singing one single line. But he is not up for it when you already asked a few times.

You didn’t notice the time passing by, it was only your professor who discussed things all over again. Things that you already know from the first year to your senior year. Seungmin took notes beside you and the rest were either spacing out or listening. But this class would end up making everyone whine about some project the professor just announced. Seungmin coughed in between distracting you from your train of thought. You hated working in pairs yet it was necessary to grab someone to lessen the burden. Seungmin disappeared from his seat and went to Jeongin. Your best friend ditched you, just like that.

“Nice, you don’t want to work with me?” You asked him when he just laughed in response, but you just rolled your eyes.

“I already planned to have Jeongin work with me,” He said. “You can ask Felix,” A sigh escaped your lips while rolling your eyes. The class ended a few minutes ago and only a few classmates of yours were left inside the classroom. You turned to Felix who was reading his notes before standing up and grabbing the opportunity to approach him.

“Hey, Felix, do you have a partner?” You asked as he smiled at you, rubbing his nape.

“Yeah, Changbin hyung was the first one to ask,” He said. “I’m sorry Y/n,” He added with that cute sheepish smile of his.

“It’s alright, there must be someone free,” You smiled at him.

“Ah, yes, Jisung doesn’t have a partner yet,” He said, making your smile drop, giving him a nod.

“Thanks,” You said and turned away seeing Jisung craning his neck, giving you his creepy smile (in a playful way) while wiggling his brows. “I guess you’re the option left?”

“That hurts,” He chuckled, standing up from his seat. “At least I get you to say yes on this one,”

“As if I had a choice,” You retorted. “When are we going to do this damn project?”

“Tonight, you know where my studio is right?” He asked as you nodded in response. “Good, I’ll meet you there at 7, sounds good to you?”

“Not a problem, Han,” You smiled.

“Great,” He smiled back.

Why is he acting as if nothing happened?

7 pm and you found yourself in the hallway of a building where Jisung’s studio was located. You looked at your phone’s screen to confirm the right address and saw the same number on a door. A few knocks were heard as Jisung put his mixtape on pause before jogging towards the entrance, unlocking it, and seeing you.

“I hope I’m not interrupting something?” You asked.

“Not at all, come in,” He said, opening the door wider as he stepped aside.

His studio is big enough for 5 people to fit in which probably explains why the rent is expensive. It was painted in black and white, different instruments were being displayed, and some were misplaced. Bass guitars and ordinary guitars, a mixer, and a synthesizer, a shelf of albums and stationeries being stacked on his desk, it was kind of messy. But he chose a good location where there’s a large window that you could see the whole city from. The room just needs a bit of cleaning.

“It’s kind of messy, I’m sorry,” He chuckled sheepishly. “You can sit on the couch first, I still need to polish something,”

“Sure,” You smiled.

“Did you have dinner?” He asked, taking his seat in front of his computer.

“Not yet, I just got out of the library before coming here,” You shrugged.

“Okay, we’ll just finish half of the project tonight and we’ll get dinner,” He paused. “If that’s okay with you?”

“Yeah, go ahead with your work, I can wait,” You said, taking a seat on the couch as he sighed in relief. Jisung went to work after that, leaving you looking around his studio. It was spacious as his mess was scattered around that you accidentally sat down on one of his cd players. There were earphones connected to it that made you sneak up to listen. You took a glance at him and saw his back facing you—taking the opportunity of it, you plugged the earphones on and played a song, not knowing it was all his.

The first song was rock, you heard Seungmin’s voice in the first part and was followed by his other friends. A summer-like vibe but in a rock genre. The lyrics were also good, even the rhythms and beat were fun to listen to. Notes were pretty high to sing but they ended things clear and clean. So much for having good singers in a group of friends. You wonder how Jisung made this beautiful art. Even the next song is ethereal, a love song solo of his, he can be cheesy at times. You started vibing with it as he was pretty occupied with his work. And that makes you wonder if Jisung can sing for the club this weekend.

You stopped listening and turned off the music without making the second song halfway finished and fell into deep thoughts. His voice is too good to ignore and his talent is superior. It’s rare to have someone listen to his songs unless it’s one of his guy friends. But you wanted his songs so bad, they were too good.

“Y/n, I’m done, shall we start?” Jisung asked as he spun his swivel chair around.

“Jisung,” You called.

“Yeah?” He asked back.

“Do you want to sing in the club? I mean, we don’t have a performer anymore so, if you want—”

“I don’t usually work with clubs unless I can perform as a guest,” He said cutting you off. “But if 5-STAR insists on hiring Mist, you should offer me something in return,” He smirked.

“Fine,” You scoffed. “Let’s go out,”

Jisung was caught off guard that he almost fell from his seat. It was a bold move of you but he likes it. You noticed how he tried to keep his cool but at the same time, you were nervous about the words that might come out as a response.

“How much are they going to pay Mist?” He asked with his chin resting at the back of his palm. You knew the deal was on.

“Pretty decent depends on how good—”

“We’re good, babe,” He smirked. “And I am way better than the word, good,”

Another weekend came and Jisung locked himself inside his room as you waited for him outside. Leaning beside the door frame, you were getting impatient with his wardrobe dilemma for his first night. Your Uncle has been told about him by Chan, the boy got too excited and nervous at the same time. Performing in front of people tonight was not the first time, but since there was money at the end of it, he didn’t want to disappoint. You, on the other hand, had to comfort his nervous ass for he has been picking up something decent to wear.

“Han, are you almost done? You only have to perform 3 songs, that’s it,” You whined outside.

“One moment, I’m still undecided about the top,” He said, making you sigh in frustration. You were getting late. “Should I go with a T-shirt or a tank top?”

“Tank tops would look great,” You said, sighing at the time.

“Thanks, be right there in a sec,” Seconds turned into minutes until he came out after almost half an hour. You gave up waiting for him by the door and went to lie on the couch. “I’m done! What do you think?” You heard him say as you sat down and examined his look.

Slicked back brown hair, a black tank top, skinny jeans, and a pair of boot shoes, everything in black. You gulped at the sight of him. He’s never been so handsome in your eyes, his fashion sense is superior to the fact that he looks like a rockstar tonight, only a bass guitar is something that he’s missing. He noticed your dumbfounded expression—one thing that boosted his confidence to perform. A smirk formed on his lips as he snapped his fingers in front of your face to bring you back to reality.

“I’m too handsome, yes I know, no need to tell me,” He said fixing his hair and winked.

“You wish,” You scoffed.

“Oh come on, I’m hot, and you know it, right?” He teased as you exited his apartment. “Hey hey! Wait up!” Jisung laughed, grabbing his jacket. You can't help but laugh at his cuteness when he was catching up. Chan prepared the stage for Jisung the moment you arrived, the latter followed you to the staff’s room to rehearse for a short while. You noticed how nervous he was that you had to hold his hand to ease him down. Jisung smiled at you as he intertwined his fingers with yours. His hands were cold and shaky—one that made you worry and patted his back.

“You will do good, alright?” You said as he nodded desperately.

“Can you give me a hug before I go?” He asked until a pair of arms wrapped around his neck and pulled you closer. “Thank you,”

He walked up to the stage introducing himself and how he got the job as a replacement. It made you embarrassed when he dedicated the song to you and everyone was cheering for your so-called relationship. Chan laughed, he looked so happy that Jisung was finally up there and enjoying the night while you stood beside him, mouth open wide. You knew Jisung sings well and you saw him sing in front of the class a few times, but not this type of vibe, not with instruments and background music. Seungmin and the rest of his friends witnessed how badass he is when it comes to music, but none of those shows met your eyes.

He started to pull off the stage by singing Meddle About by Chase Atlantic. His lips moved as if he were making out with the microphone, and his fingers played with the strings as his voice resounded throughout the crowded room. Minho and Hyunjin supported him with the music and started banging the night. He was holding the mic with both of his hands as he sang his heart out. The veins on his neck become visible as he sings. It made him more natural and attractive. He jammed with the instrumentals in between the chorus and mouthed the adlib while he stared in your direction. His fingers strummed the electric guitar and a hint of crimson red showed up on your cheeks as you felt the heat coming with it. The loud beating of your heart and the adrenaline rush made you feel dizzy. You never saw this side of Jisung before, though you weren’t that close for the past few years, he is one fucking ace. And Chan is very proud now and then.

The audience was too focused on the handsome young man performing on stage. The second song was his song, the one you heard on his cd player (Mixtape: Time Out), a rock summer vibe—a fresh song that comes with rap and drums; his vocals are too good to handle both singing and rapping. Everyone was cheering for him, the audience was jumping as they vibe with the song. He was also good at hyping them up and pointing to anyone who matches his energy. Yet his eyes would seek yours, it was something he is happy and thankful about. His heart never felt so giddy and fortunate when you are the reason why he is enjoying his time at the moment.

Jisung kept running and walking around the small stage, sweat dripping from his forehead that made his brown locks soaked. His slicked-back hair becomes messy but he is still gorgeous. Chan noticed how you looked at him and nudged your arm, motioning his lips as if he was teasing you. Even Felix and Changbin were there, dancing like a married couple in front of the stage. And it lasted until his third and last song for the night. You listened closely and watched him as he sat down to sing a soothing melody after the hardcore ones. The sudden change of genre made you feel like falling in love. You love music all your life and you meet a lot of people who share the same interests as you but not like Jisung who took everything in one night. His friends and even Chan love to do the same as him but you see him differently.

It is the way how calm he was—the spotlight was on him that made his visuals more appealing. The sweat ran down from his forehead to his ripped arms when he took off his jacket, his eyes filled with sincerity, and his voice blended with song. You couldn’t understand why your heart is acting up like you are about to fall for him. And it will get worse in the next few weeks as you expected. A small smile formed on your face when he ended the song and locked eyes with you. Jisung was satisfied as you fell into worry on the other hand. Who knows what will happen if he finds out that you fell in love in just one night with three songs?

The night flew by and Jisung was given tips and compliments. He earned good money on his first night and he never stopped talking about it even when he was driving you both home. You congratulated him for being amazing on stage and he was really happy with it. Jisung never forgot to say thank you and made a breakthrough because of you. He never thought that this deal would lead to something beautiful for him.

“Do you want to have a drink?” He asked as you walked side by side towards his apartment.

“It’s 4 am, you need to rest,” You insisted as he let out a soft chuckle.

“It’s Saturday morning though? What could go wrong?” He asked.

“Fine, I’ll tolerate it,” You smiled at him as you offered your hand. Jisung immediately took it and pulled you inside his apartment. It was a signal but Jisung doesn’t want to do anything unless you want something.

He got busy grabbing two glasses and a bottle of champagne that Hyunjin bought him the other week. You were waiting for him on the couch, wandering your eyes around. It’s not like it was your first time to be inside Jisung’s apartment, but it never fails to amaze you. His instruments were displayed neatly but on the other side of the room is a complete mess. He wasn’t expecting any guests anyway. But the fact that he wanted to celebrate this night with you after their very first performance as part of 5-STAR, Jisung is up for it. Both Hyunjin and Minho refused to stay up late because of the exhaustion, leaving you and Jisung together, in his very own place.

“I hope you like champagne?” He asked, placing them on the coffee table.

“Of course,” You answered.

“To us?” He said, raising his glass.

“To you and Mist,” You smiled, raising your glass as well before making cheers with him.

“Since when did you learn how to play?” You asked, eyes still darted on him while you drink.

“Since I was 12, I guess?” He chuckled, holding his glass as he sat down beside you. “My dad taught me.”

“No wonder why you were so good,” You said. “Minho and Hyunjin too,”

“Thanks,” He said with a soft chuckle. “The guys are also natural at playing it,”

“And you know what I think about you?” You said which made him hooked in the conversation while drinking. “I think you are so hot and beautiful while performing,”

“You’re falling for me already?” Jisung smirked as you looked into his eyes.

“Maybe,” You said. “And I’m sane right now,” Still not breaking eye contact.

“And can I do something about it?” He asked, placing his glass on the table.

“No,” You said. “Maybe?”

“Stop with the Maybes, Y/n,” He giggled. “What do you want?” He asked.

“You.”

You felt his lips on yours for the third time now. The taste of champagne lingers as you respond. Arms around his neck as he pulled you closer to him. As he deepened the kiss, he placed a hand on your nape and carefully stroked the side of your cheek. He could taste the champagne through the hint of your cherry-flavored lip gloss as your lips curved against one another. You could feel his grin between kisses, you began playing with his hair which caused him to bite your upper lip and sucked it before he could kiss you deeply again.

Nobody had ever made you feel this way. Even if you remembered how your ex kissed you, it’s nothing compared to how Jisung does it. Heavy breaths were shared but none of you dared to stop. The sound of kisses, his soft lips, and your eagerness of it wanted more. He lifted you to make you sit on his lap and it surprised you for a moment but couldn’t mind it at all. You were lost and it made his heart pound. His tongue brushed across yours as you stopped and met his gaze after feeling his hand caressing your thigh. Cheeks began to flush.

“What?” He asked.

“I’m sane,” You said.

“Darling, it’s just you and me,” He replied. “What’s stopping you?” He asked, running his fingers through your hair.

“Nothing,” You said. “It’s just,”

Jisung didn’t even wait for you to finish and just started to kiss you again. Hands on your cheeks as you leaned closer to hug him, continuing the kiss. It was soft and gentle, there was a spark in between. The lights flicker as the bubbles of the ignore champagne glasses evaporated to the surface. Jisung knew he likes you so much but going back to the question, what was stopping you? The question was vague but it will hit his ego if you answered that. You admit you were a bit hesitant to open up a new relationship after the heartbreak, but this is Jisung now.

His back settled on the backrest of his couch as you leaned forward as his hands ran down rubbing his hands gently against your curves, squeezing them. A hint message that he likes it and you couldn’t agree more. The sounds of your smacking lips made Jisung hum in response. Your fingers played with his brown locks as you smiled in between the kiss.

“Should we make it real?” He asked giving you a peck on the lips.

“Do they know?” You asked.

“Not yet,” He chuckled. “We can tell them later,”

“Okay,” You said quietly as your lips met again. His kisses have gotten more intense. He held your back to lay you on the soft couch as he hovered above you, taking off his tank top. The excitement rose when you saw how built his body was then he proceeded to have his lips meddle with yours. Fast heartbeats, eyes were shut to completely enjoy the moment, as the sounds of your lips smacking against one another in response to the tension—the kiss was heating up.

Jisung felt your hands undoing his belt, the clanking of the hard material aroused when it hit the marble floor. He, then, starts undressing you leaving only your underwear.

“You’re not shy are you?” He said.

“It wasn’t the first time I made out with you,” You smirked meeting his lips again. Jisung put his thumb in between your lips as you kiss them gently, feeling his kisses on your neck. You hummed in response to his touch, you had to look the other way to provide him more access. You felt his teeth bite your soft skin and started nipping, intoxicated by the smell of your long-lasting perfume. “Hmmm,” You moaned.

His kisses made their way down to your chest, in the valley of your covered tits as it goes down to your stomach which made you feel butterflies.

“You’re so pretty,” He said. “But that’s not the only reason why I like you. May I?”

You knew you want it too and didn’t even hesitate to permit him to take them off and go ahead. It was driving you crazy when you felt his lips kissing your thigh with his eyes staring at your wetness, he cooed at how pretty his view was that his tongue reached the opening making you mewl in return.

“We were just kissing Y/n,” He smirked, spreading your legs wider so he could bury his face in your dripping cunt, devouring it with his mouth.

“Fuck!” You hissed under your breath. Jisung’s hands tightened their grip on your thighs, squeezing them every time he hears you moan as your breath gets heavier by the time his tongue played with it. You grabbed his hand, interlocking your fingers together while feeling how good his mouth was. “It’s hot,”

But he didn’t stop there. You taste good, he loves it. He had his two fingers inside you as he slipped his tongue along with it. His fingers began to move quickly, receiving a delightful yet sinful sound from you. And as your lips gaped, you started humping on his fingers. That was it, your body was hot and started to move on its own.

“Stay still, angel,” He said upon having his fingers get on a fast pace just to hear more of those sinful sounds coming out of your mouth. He didn’t stop, he doesn’t want to. Your hand reached his brown locks, dragging him up close to your pussy to feel more of it. But Jisung stopped so suddenly that it made you whine in return.

“Why did you stop?” You asked.

Jisung didn’t say anything, the next you knew you were being pulled to sit on his lap and grind on his clothed erection. His lips met yours again, but your hands were busy pulling down his pants, along with his black boxers. You gasped the moment he let himself buried inside you, slowly and gently just to start the night. He captured your lips again, not wanting to break the kiss as his hands were on your waist, hugging you closer while you were humping him. Your arms wrapped around his neck and went faster making him moan in between your kisses. His fingers reached for the hook of your bra, took it away, and tossed it somewhere in the living room. You didn’t stop there as you keep on riding his cock. It felt so good.

“Faster baby,” He breathed, massaging your breasts and pinching your sensitive buds. Playing and pinching them made it even worse, eyes rolled back as you held his shoulders tightly. It sent shivers down your spine as you continued humping him. You could feel how hard he is inside you. The only sounds you could hear were your heavy breaths and Jisung’s moans underneath. He liked the idea of you riding him and his sounds were loud and clear when you started to go up and down as fast as you could. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” He hissed, biting and nipping your tits while massaging and squeezing the other one.

“Baby,” You gasped, as his other free hand started caressing your body while you pull him closer to your chest. It made you arch your back as a response, and by this, he was given more access to have his mouth sucking your hard nipples. It was hot, his tongue won’t stop playing with it. Your head falls back, grinding him as his cock goes beyond his limits.

“Fuck,” He cursed again as he went to your untouched boob.

“Han,” You breathed. “I’m coming,”

“Just let it out baby,” He said, thrusting his cock even faster. You bit your lower lip in response and come while Jisung was still going at his fast pace. He felt how hot it was, and before he could even come, he laid you down on the couch and pulled away making his cream spread across your stomach. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” You said in between your breath.

“Do you want to wash up?” He asked again, fixing your hair.

“A little later,” You smiled. “Hug me,”

“Of course, love,” He said as he gave you a peck on the lips before pressing his body over you. A pair of arms wrapped around your back with your head on his chest as you hugged him tightly. This night has been exciting and tiring, and all he needs is to cuddle with you to end it. “Rest,” He added, kissing the side of your head.

It was unexpected, but being with him is all good now and the remaining problem now is how are you going to announce that you’re already official?

Exactly a week passed by, and Jisung would never leave the floor without you. He would be on your couch when you’re in a hurry to get to school or work. It was decided that he’d only perform with Mist every weekend so he could get some free time with you after class. Chan immediately got the idea that you two are finally going out but at the same time, Jisung didn’t spill the beans yet to his other friends.

“So you two are dating now?” Seungmin asked as you make your way to your workplace.

“Yeah,” You smiled widely.

“Let me guess, you two had sex?” Seungmin asked again, looking at you in disbelief as you rolled your eyes. “Well, well, well, aren’t you the one who cried over their ex two weeks ago?”

“Shut up Seungmin, you know how I feel about Jisung now,” You defended.

“Yeah, yeah, if it weren’t for that project we had, you wouldn’t be this close,” Seungmin answered, hands being shoved inside his pockets.

“Also, let me thank you for rejecting me as your partner,” You smirked.

“You’re welcome?” Seungmin chuckled. “Where’s Han? I thought we were going together?”

“He went to work early,” You sighed. “I don’t know, he sent me a text saying not to wait for him or something,”

Jisung went to the club earlier than usual the next Saturday night. He said he wanted to make his performance different compared to these past few nights. When you arrived an hour after him, the stage was already set up with Hyunjin and Minho. And that’s when the surprise started.

White smoke crept over the floor to welcome the band as purple, red, blue, orange, and yellow lights filled the stage. The lead singer took a position in front of the crowd and began singing his heart out. He was getting all the hype he deserves as Hyunjin and Minho went hard on playing their designated instruments while Jisung stood out well. He was wearing his gray blazer, tight black pants, and a white polo shirt inside with a black tie. His hair was curled as these brown locks fell on his cheeks. His hand took the microphone from the stand and continued to sing the song you’d never heard before.

Your heart started to beat faster like crazy. Blood rushed down your cheeks making it feel hot, the crowd made the room louder and the air conditioner you thought was not working well when in fact they are. It was just so hot that you couldn’t understand how you felt inside. And it only got worse when he took off his blazer, dropping it on the floor as he blurted out his self-composed lyrics while rolling up his sleeves to his elbows. He stopped for a few seconds only to pick up his electric guitar and started strumming it to the core. The instrumentals were crazy enough to make you feel dizzy and weak. As if he didn’t make you feel the same when you two had sex in his apartment.

But this is it, Han Jisung just crashed his way in.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!”

He was smirking all over the way, the feeling of cockiness took over his system as he had his tongue out just for the sake of rising confidence. It made you feel weak in the knees. He was looking at you and winked.

“Someone’s going get laid tonight,” Chan laughed.

“Oh, you bet,” Seungmin answered, giving the older one a high five.

“Shut up you two,” You hissed as you continued watching. Jisung stood behind his mic stand and sang the lyrics of his unreleased song. It was heartful, especially when he hit the high note at the end earning claps and screams from everyone.

“Felt like a concert,” Chan said.

“I told you he’s good,” Seungmin added.

You went backstage after his performance, he was preoccupied with saying his thanks to everyone, the same goes for Minho and Hyunjin who are covered in sweat for giving their all. The three of them did well, but there’s Jisung who stood out the most to you and after that, all three of them went down.

“That was so good!” You exclaimed.

“Thanks Y/n, thank you for hiring us,” Minho said.

“It was nothing,” You giggled. “You totally rocked it,”

“I’m shy now,” Hyunjin laughed.

“Own it guys, you were so good,” You said and that’s when you saw Jisung who just got down. “Hannie!” You squealed and went over to him for a hug. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Since when did they get so close?” Hyunjin asked.

“They’re going out,” Seungmin butted in.

“What?” Minho said.

“It’s not a surprise anymore so, accept the truth,” Chan added.

“Did you like it?” Jisung asked.

“Of course! Was that the song you were working on in your studio?”

“Yeah,” He laughed. “Definitely,”

“It was really good,” You smiled. “And I like your outfit today, your hair, wow, they’re very rockstar material,”

Later that moment you found yourself kissing him inside the dressing room as his hand went for the lock to make sure no one comes in. You felt his hand caressing your cheek not breaking the kiss before hitting your back on the wall. As soon as he pressed you against the wall, his lips became impatient. Your hands rushed to remove his jacket and started to loosen his tie while your lips stayed together throughout the passionate kiss.

“You’re quite eager are you?” He smirked in between, biting your lower lip before sucking it. His hand reached your ass, squeezing it making you giggle in return, and kissed him again. Jisung lifted your shirt revealing your black-laced bra, his kisses went down again from your neck to the valley of your breast, squeezing your boobs enough to make you moan. You watch him go down, dragging your shorts down along with your matching underwear. He got on his knees as he rested your leg on his shoulders, licking and sucking your wetness. You leaned closer against the wall as Jisung started eating you out. It wasn’t part of the plan, he gave his all tonight so he deserves it.

“Baby, fuck!” You hum in response as your mouth gaps and the burning sensation you felt when his tongue is pressed hard on your dripping cunt, licking and teasing it. You started grinding on his mouth making him smack your ass hard earning a sinful sound. Biting your lip, you can’t hold your sounds in, you know the people around love to eavesdrop when something like this happens.

Jisung loved how you taste, but eating your pussy doesn’t satisfy him that easily. He asked you to bend over the vanity table and watched every expression you make in the mirror when his cock slipped inside you as he started to fucked you from behind. His hand made a makeshift ponytail with your hair, thrusting his hips at a fast pace. Your hands held the table tightly, feeling every inch of his dick coming in and out of your hole. Sounds of screams and cries echoed throughout the room and you know how much it turned him on.

“You’re taking me so well, babe,” He said, leaning forward to kiss your neck as his hands cupped your boobs and squeezed them. He never stopped fucking you from that position. The feeling was immaculate. His lips met yours, devouring them as if he was hungry—his pace never went down and kept its speed. You moaned in his lips as he pinched your nipples making you reach your limits. You weren’t used to sex, and you know Jisung understands. But this time, you wanted it to last. The same goes for him and it is the second time after all.

He lifted your leg on the table and went harder. It made you break the sloppy make-out you shared. The feeling feels like there’s a fire in your body that burns every time Jisung touches you like this. It made you go insane when he slapped your ass.

“Ah! Fuck you,” You whined.

“Well, I am,” He smirked, biting your neck, nipping your skin, and leaving some marks.

“Han,” You gasped, mouth open as your legs started to quiver. “I’m coming,”

“Not yet baby,” You heard him say.

“Fuck, I can’t,” You whined.

“Where’s the fun if I’ll let you?” He smirked, biting your lip. “You’re hot, baby,” He added, hugging you from behind, but that doesn’t stop you from being out of breath and quivering. You turned around and met his lips, kissing him again. It was gentle this time, arms wrapped around his neck as he made you sit on the table. Your fingers played with his curly brown locks which made him smile in between your kisses.

He pushed himself inside you again and started his pace faster than usual. It was extreme, the tension between you two was hard to identify. No matter how hard he goes, it always feels good when his lips are on yours. You could feel every inch of him as he fucked you harder and faster. Nothing compares to this feeling when you were still with your dumb ex-boyfriend. Han Jisung is definitely wholesome.

Everyone is right about him, he’s dominant and it makes your body burn.

“You want to come?” He asked as you nodded desperately. “Say please,”

“Please?” You breathed in between your shared kiss.

“I’m almost there baby,” He groaned, burying his face on your neck in the same position. He felt your fingers dug up his skin, making traces of red lines that made him swear, stopping at the time when you couldn’t hold it anymore and came. “My dick is covered with your cum, babe,” He said, kissing your cheek and pulled away before he could come inside you.

“I hate you,” You said, smacking his chest playfully.

“That hurts my feelings,” He laughed. “Are you okay?” He asked, caressing your cheek.

“I’m fine,” You answered, giving him a peck on his lips. “You did well tonight. Shall we go home and take some rest?” You smiled, hugging him closer.

“Do I get cuddles?” He asked, giving you his puppy eyes.

“Of course baby, you deserve it,” You replied, giving him another kiss. “I love you, Han,”

“That’s the most precious thing I’ve ever heard tonight,” He said. “You know that I love you too, Y/n,” He smiled.

“I know,” You smiled.

“Let’s go home now,”

So this is what falling in love feels like, the one he thought that he needs to pass countless levels just to reach the top has come to an end. Jisung found you now, and it will change his perspective for quite a while.

Then there’s you, opening up again. It wasn’t easy at first, the long drive could end in burning flames or paradise and you were sure, it was paradise.

“Good night, Y/n,”

REBLOGGING AND LEAVING A FEEDBACK WOULD BE APPRECIATED.

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singbluesxlver · 1 year

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musician!¡ Ghost × bar owner!¡ Soap

— Soap is the owner of a quite popular bar, especially among independent and alternative music fans. Soap's Bar is known for having live bands performing there (regardless of how well known or experienced they are). It's a mutual benefit, Soap retains clients and attracts new ones and bands gain popularity and payment. Besides, he's always been interested in the music world and that's his way of being part of it, at least a little.

Soap runs the bar almost on his own. He only has the help of Rodolfo and Valeria, his friends and employees, in that order. They manage somehow.

— Ghost plays lead guitar in an alternative metal band. It's an emerging band, called 141 ??? (im too tired to think of something more creative) with a fanbase and all. The other members are: Alejandro (vocals, rythm guitar), Gaz (Bass), Price (Drums).

Ghost is the only one in his group that keeps his face covered and his real identity hidden. Fans have lots of crazy theories about it but in reality, he's just into bands like Sleep Token, Ghost and Slipknot and thinks the whole mask and anonymity thing looks cool.

— Ghost's band finds out about Soap's bar hype and they decide to book a gig there.

Soap is immediately intrigued by the huge masked man that comes into his bar. At first he thought he's gonna be robbed but then he approaches him and starts talking about his band and how they find this place to be excellent for their next gig and "are you willing to book us?"

"Sorry, what did you say it was your band's name?"

"141. You can find us by the same on social media, if you need to check that out"

Soap takes out a notebook and fidgets with a pen while checking a list of names and dates.

"Uhm... Next saturday, 7PM. 'S that okay?"

"'S great, thank you."

They then exchange e-mails, phone numbers and thats it. Thats their first interaction, quite simple but surprise !! somehow they both cant stop thinking about each other !!

Ghost finds Soap pretty cute, totally his type

and Soap realizes he might have a thing for masked men

— Saturday finally arrives and Soap has never seen so many people at his bar. Courtesy of 141.

When they finally get to play, Soap's impressed by how good they sound, especially Ghost, he cant take his eyes off him. He didnt think such talent and stage presence were possible.

"Soap, te van a entrar las moscas." Thanks to Valeria's joke, Soap realizes that his mouth had been open until that moment.

— ALSO. In this au Alejandro is quite of a flirt, i mean, he's the frontman in a band, ofc he is.

He loses his head over Valeria and Rodolfo the moment he meets them and flirts with both at the same time. They find him very annoying (at first).

#sorry for my english #ghostsoap #ghoap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #mw2 #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #valeria garza #john price #kyle gaz garrick #ghostsoap au #soapghost #cod mw2 band au #alerudy #valejandro

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openingnightposts · 5 months

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#Birdland #Cabaret #Jazz #MarilynMaye #NewYorkNightLife #TulisMcCall

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cyarskj1899 · 2 years

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The Lionel Richie-Dave Grohl Lovefest Continues at Rock Hall of Fame Performance

"Rock and roll is not a color," Richie said. "It is a feeling. It's a vibe. And if we let that vibe come through, this room will grow and grow and grow"

Larisha PaulNovember 6, 2022

"Rock and roll is not a color," Richie said. "It is a feeling. It's a vibe. And if we let that vibe come through, this room will grow and grow and grow"

Lionel Richie performed his greatest hits — with Dave Grohl on guitar — before accepting his induction into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Saturday night.

After being introduced by Lenny Kravitz, the Commodores musician and American Idol judge opened the medley with “Hello” on piano, immediately taking control of the crowd as they sang the ubiquitous chorus.

He quickly switched into the Commodores’ “Easy,” which brought much of the crowd to its feet clapping to the rhythm, swaying and singing the backing vocals. Grohl joined onstage as a surprise guest to perform “Easy,” one of the night’s musical highlights. (Grohl has been a longtime fan of Richie’s, hosting a town hall with the singer, appearing at Richie’s MusiCares award, and recruiting him for Foo Fighters’ comedy-horror film Studio 666 to chastise Grohl for stealing “Hello.”)

Richie finished with a groovy, bongo-tinged “All Night Long,” pacing the stage and pointing at the crowd to join in.

“If Mozart were Black, would he be Mozart? No, because he wasn’t funky enough,” Richie said during his speech about making music and the criticism he faced when his music wasn’t “Black enough.”

Speaking to Rolling Stone earlier this year, Richie compared being inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame to reaching heaven, saying: “This is the holy grail of what we do in the business.”

“I was the kid that was a fan to practically everyone in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame,” he said. “To go from fan to in it … they let the fan in the club. Can you imagine?”

His excitement rested not in the praise of the accolade itself, necessarily, but in the company that it surrounded him with – to take the stage Saturday night and be listed alongside the world-changing artists who he had idolized and loved his whole life at the wishes of his peers.

And as his discography shows, he has more than earned his spot with career-defining hits such “Hello,” “All Night Long,” Say You, Say Me,” “My Destiny,” “Lady” with Kenny Rogers, “Endless Love” with Diana Ross, and a crucial co-writing credit alongside Michael Jackson on “We Are the World.”

Richie’s Rock Hall induction comes several months after the Black Music & Entertainment Walk of Fame inducted him as a legacy artist. Around the same time, the Library of Congress awarded the musician with the Gershwin Prize for Popular Song.

Read Lion Richie’s full acceptance speach below:

Let me just take a real moment to take this in for a moment. it has been a very interesting road from Tuskegee, Alabama to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Before I start talking about me, let me talk about Alan Grubman for a moment. If you know Alan, to make Alan cry, I don’t even know how that happened. I was shocked and he didn’t say “fuck” more than twice! That’s insanity.

Anyway, let’s go back to what I was going to say. We are celebrating tonight probably one of the funniest things, funniest jokes in my life because all the songs that I wrote and recorded were told to me by so many people, “These are the songs that will destroy your career. What in the hell are you thinking about?”

For example, I had a group of people come to me and say, “Lionel, this is funk. What are you doing with ‘Three Times a Lady?'” … It went on and then they said, “Can you give us another one of those, ‘Three Times a Lady?'” And I gave them “Sail On.” Then they said, “Can you give us another one of those ‘Sail Ons.'” That’s when I realized that the true business was in the copy: not being original. So that’s when I realized that there’s two types of arts: creative arts and created arts.

From that point, I decided I would be the creative arts. What comes with that category is ridicule. Lots and lots of ridicule, but I I use it as my perfect example of “If I’m going in the right direction.” So when someone said to me, “Oh, my God, I wouldn’t do that song if I were you!” That’s the exact song you put out. If it made you nervous.

Then someone came to me and said the most unusual phrase. I was doing an interview one day and he said, “How does it feel now that you’ve left your roots?” I said, “What does that mean?” Because at the time I signed to Motown I didn’t know anything about the record business. I didn’t know there was an R&B department and pop department, jazz. I thought I was competing with all the music.

And so when I went and said, “What do you want me to do?” And he said, “Well, Lionel, you’re not Black enough.” And I said, “Let me ask you a question: If Mozart were black, would he be Mozart?” And the answer is no. Because he wasn’t funky enough. At that point, I realized I’m going in the opposite direction. Because at this time, I needed to understand there are some people who specialize in their job. And then there’s some people who don’t know any better than God’s gift was, “What do you want to write, we can write.”

So tonight, I’m standing on the stage because I want you to understand how important it is to let the artist go. Let the creativeness flow. If you get an idea, the last thing you want to do is open your mouth and say something stupid, like “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Especially if you’re talking to a creative artist.

Tonight I want to say one other thing because it’s very important looking in this class tonight that I’m in: Judas Priest. Brought on by Lenny Kravitz…. You see what happens here is that this is a complete thought of what I was thinking when I first got into business. Rock and Roll is not a color. It is a feeling. It’s a vibe. And if we let that vibe come through, this room will grow and grow and grow.

I cannot and will not walk off this stage without acknowledging my dear dear dear friends the Commodores. Thank God for the Commodores because there would be no Lionel Richie… I must say also that there are people that have actually had to tolerate quite a bit. Sometimes when you fall in love with the music business, you tend to fall out of love and people don’t understand what the hell you doing over… I missed 25 years of pep rallies, bonfires, family reunions.

I’m on the stage tonight. But the most important thing is I want to thank all of my friends, my family, Miles, Sofie, Nicole. The grandkids. Lisa, my heart. I want to thank them for actually sitting through my magical mystery tour. And I want to let everyone know that I am probably not coming home for quite a while. I’m in love with this business. I love what I do. Thank you so much for this amazing moment.

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James Anthony Carmichael, my co-producer, on every album, every song. You listen to every complete, crazy lyric I ever wrote. And said ‘I know that’s not the right word. Find the word.’ I want to thank James for being right there with me every night, 25 hours a day, discovering my voice .Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, thank you very much.

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asterlark · 3 years

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ok. samwell college of music au. i wrote all four years let's go babey

eric bittle is this lovely southern tenor (sounds kinda like mitch grassi or ben j pierce) who posts covers (& sometimes originals, but always with neutral or no pronouns because he can't post anything that says he or him ☹) on his youtube channel and has major stage fright but is very talented; he also plays ukulele

he got into samwell college of music on a voice scholarship and his dad doesn’t exactly approve but eric was never the 6′2″ masculine football player he wanted anyway so why not go for his dreams

he auditions for the very competitive samwell men’s contemporary chorus (there’s like 20 choirs; chamber choir, jazz choir, a cappella groups (lax bros do a cappella), combined choirs, etc- smcc does contemporary pop/rock music) and while he’s very very nervous and shaky as he auditions, directors hall & murray see a lot of potential in him (with major grumbling from student director jack)

(the rest of this ridiculously long au under the cut)

the group is small, for a chorus, because the point of the group is not a wall of sound but a focus on all of the very talented guys’ voices coming together in these gorgeous harmonies and basically they’re like one of the best choruses on campus and all the male singers want in

so there’s jack zimmermann, who of course eric knows because everyone knows who he is, he’s the son of bob and alicia zimmermann, both incredibly talented and famous musicians, and basically those genes were in his favor because he’s mega fucking talented

(jack was supposed to sign a recording contract to be in a band with his best friend kent parson when he was 17 but something happened between them and the pressure was too much and jack overdosed on something- there’s so many rumors no one knows what’s real- and kent signed solo in LA & went on to win grammys for his albums about a mysterious ex and jack disappeared for a few years to be a counselor at a music camp and reappears at samwell, knocking everyone’s socks off again like he’d never left, except with a renewed vigor and intenseness that freaks everyone out)

jack is a contemporary writing & production major, freaky talented and sings like a modern day frank sinatra, and he plays like 20 instruments and can read music like breathing air and writes songs like if he stopped he’d die; his music is folksy and mournful and he plays all the instruments on his tracks himself- guitar, piano, strings, drums- it sounds like a full band but nope. just jack. he’s intense

“we all get nicknames in this choir,” justin informs eric on his first day, “we’re those kinda guys.” so he’s bitty, which he finds vaguely offensive (bc he’s not that short!) but still cute, & the rest of the group is introduced to him:

“shitty” knight (voice like colyer) is a musical education major and an enigma of a singer with this awesome, earthy, raspy voice that’s really interesting to listen to and a very.... unique style & look; he writes cheesy but shockingly good raps about social justice topics and he will sing-lecture you if you’ve said something offensive (he also plays banjo)

justin “ransom” oluransi is a music business & management major with an angelic voice you can’t help but listen to; he’s sultry and has an incredible range and does runs like nobody’s business (with a voice like daniel caesar or leslie odom jr UGH)

adam “holster” birkholtz is a voice performance major, wants to be on broadway and it’s all he ever goddamn talks about basically, he’s a belter and has a lot of charisma and starpower and he’ll charm the pants off of you within one note; can also play piano and irritates everyone constantly because his regular volume is like a level 11 (voice like the frontman of my brothers and i combined w/ x ambassadors lead singer)

larissa “lardo” duan is at the local art institute because performing arts is not her jam and she’d much rather paint; she’s a barista at annie’s and supervises open mic nights and keeps the annoying choir dudes from driving away all her patrons

“i’m not even in your dumbass choir,” she says when the group gave her her nickname. holster just told her that she was an honorary member and then started sing-shouting a song at her about how good she is

bitty’s first year is hard because he’s talented and he works hard but he shies away when anyone asks him to sing outside the group and like, he can sing to a camera by himself but being on a stage with everyone looking at you and the sole responsibility of the song on your shoulders is terrifying and no thanks

jack does not. understand this. he’s been performing practically since he came out of the womb and he doesn’t really get performance nerves (what he gets is anxiety about how he did after he gets off stage that follows him home and makes it so he can’t sleep) - so he bothers bitty about it constantly like “you just need practice, you just have to sing by yourself a lot and then you’ll get over it” which like.... that’s true but it’s also hella scary and bitty’s like “no thanks!!!!”

but jack’s annoying and intense so he makes bitty do open mic with him every saturday night and it’s going okay and bitty loves his choir and loves his school and these new friends he’s making and he finally feels comfortable enough to come out to them during his second term

then during their spring choral showcase at the end of his freshman year bitty has a solo and he’s worked really hard on it and he’s feeling good- okay he’s completely freaked out but he’s trying to feel good- but when he gets up on stage there’s so many people and the stage lights are so hot on his face and he flips out a little and maybe he passes out from anxiety and stress right on stage and it’s terrible and he’s so embarrassed and ashamed that he ruined their set at the showcase

of course jack blames himself because “we shouldn’t have given you a solo before you were ready, i misjudged it, i’m sorry” - and they all feel kinda bad bc holy fuck they didn’t know his stage fright was that bad like they didn’t know someone could pass out just by being anxious to sing

he practices all the time over the summer and goes to his local open mic at jack’s insistence and it actually helps a lot because instead of a sea of strangers judging him it’s a bunch of people he knows and they’re all smiling at him and when he finishes his song they cheer for him and it boosts his self-confidence a lot

his sophomore year they have three new members- chris ”chowder” chow (voice like ieuan), an excitable music education major with impressive rapping skills, derek "nursey" nurse (frank ocean or leon bridges type), a songwriting major who can also play violin and guitar, and will ”dex” poindexter (like tom west), a production & engineering major who tried out with chowder bc he needed moral support and didn't expect to get in but impressed the directors with his voice

the year’s going pretty good, bitty’s still pretty scared of singing alone but more confident now and the open mic nights with jack haven’t stopped, so he’s getting better. and one night they’re hanging out at annie’s after closing waiting for lardo to be done so they can walk her home, and bitty suggests that jack sing with him one of these nights, and jack says he doesn’t know any of bitty’s songs and bitty says they can write one together half jokingly but then jack is like “yes.” with that Intense Look

SO they get together a couple days later in jack’s room at the house they all live in together (bitty moved in at the beginning of the year after previous smcc member john johnson called him- how’d he get his number?- and told him he could take his room if he wanted), jack with his guitar and bitty with his ukulele, and it’s a little awkward until bitty says jack should play him one of his songs

and, okay, he doesn’t really know what to expect because the only music jack ever released to the public was that one single he did with kent parson when they were 17 so bitty doesn’t even know if he has anything to play him, but he does- he starts playing these soft, sad notes on the guitar and opens his mouth and sings about being lonely and scared and unsure, about false starts and shaky ground and not knowing where you stand with someone, about expectations and lying awake at night and wishing so hard you were someone else, and bitty watches him sing and just kind of... realizes he’s head over heels for this boy and internally Freaks Out a little

he tries to put that aside and they start to write this song, at first it’s weird because jack’s like “all your songs are love songs i can’t really relate to happy love songs” and bitty’s like “listen... i’ve never even had a boyfriend i just write a bunch of sappy love stuff because it’s not about me it’s about whoever’s listening to it, they’re gonna project their own experiences on my music anyway so it doesn’t matter if it’s my real life or not” and jack’s like “alright while fake af that’s smart and i respect you” (what bitty doesn't say is that he writes about what he really wants which is to fall in love & be in a happy relationship)

they say they’re just gonna write this kinda vague sad song but they both secretly write lines about their actual lives so it ends up being really personal and real and raw for the both of them

they sing the song at open mic that saturday and the crowd at annie’s is never that big but they’ve never got a standing ovation here before, and some girl shouts “MAKE AN ALBUM” (it may or may not be lardo) and they both blush furiously and bitty’s like “... that was really nice, jack” and jack’s like “... yeah it was good good job you’re really getting some confidence out there nice work” (bitty: “THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT AAAAH”)

around this time jack’s really thinking about what he’s gonna do when he’s done at samwell, talking with his parents and his agent and looking into different record companies and deciding if he wants to sign with anyone or possibly start his own company- the head of a small company called falcon records in rhode island has been talking to him a lot, and jack talks to bitty about how he thinks it’d be nice to start small, and the record exec georgia and the producer marty had both been really nice and welcoming, and bitty’s so happy for him but also just... sad that he won’t be around jack every day after he graduates

THEN at a haus party celebrating their win of a local choral competition, who shows up but none other than pop star kent parson to Ruin The Fun

bitty sees the way jack pales when kent walks in, notices them disappear upstairs together and feels a little sick worrying about jack but chalks it up to the highly alcoholic concoction shitty and lardo had cooked up but nonetheless decides he’s sick of the party and goes up to his room and hears.... a little too much

and YIKES he’s standing right there and kent parson, pop star, two-time grammy winner, is looking a little rumpled and staring right at him and he puts his hat on and clears his throat and snaps at jack- “hey. well. call me if you reconsider. but good luck with rhode island. ...i’m sure that’ll make your parents proud.” and jack’s shaking, and bitty doesn’t know what to do but jack goes back into his room and bitty’s just kind of standing there like What The Fuck

so.... he kind of stews over winter break but tries not to think about it too much and he and jack text a bit and jack tells him to practice and bitty’s like “oh, you” and jack’s like “im serious” and bitty’s like “>:( it’s christmas”

spring semester starts and they're doing well in competitions and they go to semifinals and then finals for a prestigious collegiate choir competition and the pressure is mounting but they all are so optimistic and really feel like they're on the same page and bitty’s confidence is better than ever and then.... they don't win

jack especially takes it very hard, but then he also has signing to worry about, which everyone helps him with and he decides to sign with falcon records and start work on an album after graduation

speaking of graduation, shitty and jack graduate and it's hard for them but harder for bitty who feels like he's losing jack in a way, he knows how intense jack gets when he's making music and it doesn't feel like he'll have any time for bitty anymore so when they say goodbye bitty goes back to the haus and listens to his and jack's song and just cries

but, like in canon, dadbob has words of wisdom to impart and jack has an "oh" moment and races across campus to kiss bitty

they get together and the next few months are spent with jack working nonstop on his album (which tbh, he'd had many of the songs written already so it's mostly recording and producing) and texting bitty constantly and coming to visit him and playing him demos of all the songs

jack also asks bitty if they can record the song they wrote together & have it as a bonus track on his album & bitty says of course, so when jack visits they set up an impromptu studio and record vocals in the guest bedroom and this deeply personal song they wrote before they were ever together means so much more to them now

and bitty is so happy but so scared and sad too because jack is playing him these songs telling him "they're all for you bits, & a lot of them are about you" and he just doesn't know how he's going to keep all this love inside even though it feels like jack's career is at stake

he tries to shove it down and stay strong though, especially since he's now an upperclassman and they're taking on new members- connor "whiskey" whisk (voice like finneas or the male singer in valley), a music business/ management major who seems to hate bitty's guts and tony "tango" tangredi (like chaz cardigan), a jazz composition major who astounds everybody with his endless questions but also his ridiculously impressive composition skills & naturally perfect pitch (he can also play saxophone??)

i want ford in this au so fuck it she is a composition major with dreams to write scores for musicals and she stars training as a barista at annie's (aka training to corral the smcc)

the pressure of it all proves to be a lot and bitty and jack have their hi, honey moment where bitty's like i can't be this deep in the closet!!! and so they tell the smcc and also jack's label that they're together and that eases things a bit

jack's album comes out to much critical acclaim and shouting in the groupchat ("#1 ON ITUNES BRAHHHHH!!!!!!!!") and several months later, when smcc has already been eliminated from choral competition in an earlier round, jack is nominated for SEVERAL grammys including best album, song of the year, and best new artist

when the time comes he takes his parents and bitty on the red carpet which, everyone keeps being like "who are you here with jack?" and he's like "my family and my good friend :)" and yes it is awkward

jack wins... all three awards. it's the comeback everyone is stoked to see and when his third win is announced, he and bitty are so elated that they kiss before he goes to accept the award

his speech is basically just "um... wow. thank you. i just kissed my boyfriend on live tv. this is amazing and i'm so humbled. i'd like to thank my boyfriend and georgia and marty and my parents and my friends and my boyfriend"

obviously the press has a FIELD DAY with this but bitty & jack are honestly vibing and so happy that it doesn't matter untiiiillll bitty's mom calls and he has to tell her "mama i'm gay and i'm going on tour with jack this summer okloveyoubye"

the last few months of bitty's junior year pass quickly and he's voted student director which is a huge honor considering how much he struggled with stage fright and confidence & how he'll now be stepping into ransom & holster's shoes

r&h and lardo all graduate (the smcc basically crashes the art school graduation and all scream when lardo gets her diploma lmao), which is a bittersweet occasion and they all do a bit of tearing up

that summer bitty goes on tour across the u.s. & canada with jack and his touring band (snowy is a bassist, tater is a drummer and poots does backing guitar, he also brings nursey to play violin on a few songs) as well as georgia who's there to manage logistics

and tour is so fun & chaotic with many bi and rainbow flags in the audience that end up thrown on stage and draped around jack's neck and they spend so many nights in the bus drinking and laughing and fooling around on the guitars and bitty's uke and exploring new cities bitty has never been to before and it's the freest bitty has felt in a long time

summer ends though, and jack leaves for the uk/europe leg of the tour, and with the new school year brings a few new members- river "bully" bullard (voice like gregory alan isakov), a music therapy major who draws his own cover art for his songs, lukas "louis" landmann (like jr jr), an electronic production and design major with a penchant for EDM, and johnathan "hops" hopper (like keiynan lonsdale), a film scoring major who wants to write music for movies and video games

bitty meets and befriends some of the other student directors- shruti, sd of the women’s contemporary chorus; sharon, sd of the chamber choir; and edgar, sd of jazz ensemble (even chad l., sd of the all-male a cappella group)

senior year passes similarly to the comic; coach visits and sees one of bitty’s competitions, jack comes to madison for christmas, smcc does well in competition and goes to regionals etc

however… bitty keeps putting off and putting off gathering the songs for his senior recital

he has a hard time doing that because he’s so focused on the group and making sure they’re performing well and as they advance in competition, everything else starts to fall away

eventually the rest of the smcc has to lock away his uke and change his youtube password and FORCE him to choose songs for it and start preparing because he cannot graduate without doing this recital and doing well on it

he chooses (of course) a beyonce song, a few of his own songs, an ellie goulding song, and an adele song

with all that his breath hitches and his hands shake before he goes on stage, he does really well and his voice instructor prof atley tears up a little in the audience as does his mom

meanwhile smcc goes to semifinals, then finals, of the national collegiate choral competition they participate in

and i imagine bitty faces somewhat less homophobia in this au because i mean, he’s in the performing arts, but i think it’s still there and he also faces a good amount of classism from richer students and performers who think they’re better because they had the resources and money to be performing professionally from a very young age, and he has been practicing via filming himself on a shitty camcorder and posting it to youtube

but they still get there! and the national finals are fucking HUGE and a big deal and a little overwhelming

bitty’s stage fright is Present because this is the biggest stage and the biggest stakes he's ever had and he has a big solo in one of their songs so if he fucks up, he fucks up a national championship for his whole group and school

luckily though, when he steps on the stage with his best friends and sees his boyfriend and family and smcc alums in the audience and they perform their first song, a high-energy pop medley that always gets the crowd going, everything seems to melt away and it's just him living in this moment and singing his heart out

when it gets to the next song and his solo, he forgets to be nervous and belts it out, getting screams of approval from the audience when he finishes

(dex and nursey do have a duet together that they had to practice for many long nights in the practice rooms alone but that's neither here nor there)

their time on stage seems to last both hours and no time at all and then they're done, the crowd gives them a standing ovation and it's at least 30% r&h & shitty's hooting and hollering and jack's enthusiastic clapping that makes bitty & the others beam with pride

then it's just waiting, giddy and nervous beyond belief in their green room, for the judging to be over

after what feels like forever they're back on stage, arms linked together waiting and hoping for their name to be called and it is, they win and it feels like years have built up to this moment, and bitty tears up because years ago when he was fainting from anxiety at having to perform in front of people he never could've imagined that he'd do this, that he'd be the student director that led them to a championship

they get the trophy and a ridiculous amount of flowers from their loved ones and they all are just in giddy disbelief that this is happening, they're national champs!!! they are the best choir boys in the nation!!

they come home and the rest of the school year passes by so quickly that it's very suddenly graduation and bitty can't believe his college career at samwell is over 😢

(he and ollie and wicky take pictures together, o&w talk about how excited they are to devote full time attention to their band & wedding planning and bitty's just like wait you're gay??)

bitty got plenty of offers from record companies but he likes his freedom of creativity and he has a built in fanbase from doing youtube all these years so he decides to make an album independently (jack helps him produce & master it 🥰)

when bitty's album comes out about a year later, full of bops about being gay and in love and having struggled but come out the other side more confident than ever, it doesn't get any grammy nominations- and he didn't expect or need that.

what it does do is it resonates. it makes the rounds in youtube and queer internet circles; people his age reach out to him saying this is the music they wish they had as a kid and kids reach out to him saying he's a role model and they're so glad to have his music to listen to. his album is written about as an underrated gem that shines with queer brilliance and is sure to start a party when it comes on.

his parents may not fully understand the road he's chosen for himself but they're still so proud and promote the album as hard as any of his loyal fans (especially the one country-inspired song on the album that he wrote and dedicated to them).

and jack, jack who saw this album from its infancy to its release date, who took the film photo that ended up being the album cover, who worked with bitty to make sure his vision was realized exactly how he wanted it to be, is proud beyond words.

jack starts using his semi-abandoned twitter again to tweet "stream [album name]" every day and bitty retweets them sometimes, with just a "this boy. ❤"

and they're happy. they're good. they have come so far and they are reaping the rewards of all the hard work they put in to make the music that they truly love.

the end :)

#check please #omgcp #samwell college of music au #mine #my writing #eric bittle #jack zimmermann #omgcp fic #check please fic #zimbits #uhh idk what else to tag #this fucking thing is like 4.1k words i'm-#i hope you enjoy it (and reblog it!) bc i've been working on this for literal years #i know i'll never actually write it as a longform fic so here's a bullet pt fic instead #pls let me know your thoughts i have so many things to say about this au

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kyoongboxi · 3 years

Text

Late Night Drive —

[Baekhyun AU]

Summary; This is a story about a Canadian-Korean artist with her famous Kokobop painting and how she ended up with someone she painted packed in late night conversation inside his audi.

Pairing; Baekhyun x You

Genre; fluff, romance, cute.

Kyoongboxi's works 🐾

——

Its been around eleven years since you, a Canadian-Korean, back into your real hometown. At that time you were only 15, so young yet so small. You followed your mother to fly to Korea after your parents divorced. You would never forget the fact that your father was a famous musician in Canada. It was kinda complicated. More than twice a week, there was a few people or his fans randomly come into your house just to see or meet your father. It didn't bother your mother at all because maybe thats the consequences when you married someone famous but there was a time when your mother also couldn't believe what the hell is happening between her and your father.

You remember it was a peaceful Saturday night dinner with little version of you eating your chicken soup carefully. Both your parents sat across the table enjoying their dinner as well. The warm atmosphere didn't stay long until you heard someone at the door ringing the bell over and over. Your mother was the one who decided to get up from her seat and walk towards the door. And when she opened the door, she caught a presence of a woman, a little younger than her with an ultrasound scans between her fingers. Of course your mother would ask what the hell is that, and the woman said it was your father's baby.

Day to weeks passed, you and your mother went through the hard times. Your parents divorced and both of you flew all the way back to Korea. Your mother struggled a lot to support you and trying her best to get you into school. Things also works the same for you, you went through a hard time in the first year because your face was some kind of mixed Asian-Canadian. It caused your friends teasing you a lot.

You were comfortably enough to get lost against your own thoughts with a warm atmosphere surrounded around your body inside the car while soft music White Gloves by Khruangbin played in the radio. You were about to close your eyes and leaning towards the window when all of sudden you felt a warm hands come in contact with your own.

"Something on your mind?"

And yeah. There he was. Your man, your world, your everything. Baekhyun. His features was illuminated by the street lights showing his perfect face when you turned your gaze against his direction. One hand gripped the steering wheel while the other held into her fingers tightly. He was the most handsome guy you had ever laid your eyes on plus his hair is now embraced a light color, emphasizing his handsomeness but the fact that he had to bleach it six times to get the light grey color makes you feel bad. It wasn't your request at all. It was what his fans want.

Yes, he is Baekhyun. Byun Baekhyun who loves his fans so much more than anything in this world. Around one month ago he made a poll on his twitter which hair color he should choose for the next schedule. Meanwhile there you are, you couldn't really believe if you were actually dating someone famous just like what your mother did in the past. Of course, you feel like you were the luckiest girl but deep down you were also afraid.

After finally graduated from college, you decided on focusing against your painting and stuff because your major is about art until you finally owned an art gallery on your twenty-four years old birthday. It was also exactly two years ago when the man, Baekhyun, visited your art gallery to reduce the stress and enjoying all of the masterpiece you have made especially the Kokobop Baekhyun's Mullet iconic look painting. It was painted beautifully and aesthetically pleasing that attract so many audience to come into the gallery to see it clearly with their own eyes. The painting got viral back then in two thousand of seventeen. Your face repeatedly appeared on television show with the painting never leaves your side.

Actually you weren't really into Korean music and stuff but the mullet iconic look on Byun Baekhyun caught your attention a lot. Of course, the owner of the mullet himself knows that. There was a woman who got viral because she painted his iconic looks but due to busy schedule he came to your gallery a year later. And you, of course you weren't expecting he would come into your gallery, alone. You were talking to him and started to hang out after, until Baekhyun said he wanted more than just a simple hang out. And the day you told your mother that you were dating Baekhyun, your mother response was just why don't you date the silent guy.. Kyun.. Kyungsoo? He looks like someone who will love his family with no doubt.

You spent a whole two years of relationship together very carefully. Baekhyun was sure one hundred percent if his fans know about his relationship with you, everything would be turning upside down but thanks to The Genius Idol himself cause he was so good at hiding it.

"Nothing.. " You murmured softly without looking at him. It was around one a.m when both of you wandering around Chungbuk on your way back to Seoul.

"I know you are lying.. Talk to me. What did I do wrong?" He spoke softly while humming to Honeymoon Avenue by Ariana Grande.

"Actually.." You started as you pulled your hand away from his grasp. "There's something.. In my head.. But it doesn't really matter though"

"No no, it does matter. Tell me every—"

You breathed out. "I don't wanna be a burden to you, I know you're tired—"

"I'm not tired, I'm completely fine. I didn't even drink any—" He explained raising his voice a little with his eyes still focusing on the road.

"Listen, Baekhyun. Your face tell otherwise. I've seen everything. About the way you talk to your fans on your Instagram live about your burden, how you talk to your fans on your Bubble Message—"

"I—"

"Don't cut my words" You finally turned around to face the man with your index finger already pointed out against his direction. "I'm trying to respect your privacy here by not forcing you to tell me everything about what the hell is going on inside your head—"

All of the words you've been arranged disappeared out of nowhere when noticed Baekhyun suddenly bursted out into laughing followed by him shaking his head playfully. "Love.. Are you— jealous?"</p>

Jealous? Were you jealous?

"Well, alright. I'm feeling like I was so stressed out lately I don't know why maybe I think about everything too much.. " He continued to speak.

"And also I got some blasphemy and hate speech both on Twitter and incoming messages through my phone. If you watched my Insta live that day you would know, right?"

You nodded simply. "Its not like I don't wanna share my burden with you, trust me I really wanna do that but, Love.. Listen" Baekhyun took your hand again, pressing it against his cheek. Allowing you to feel his soft cheek.

"I don't want you to worry about me too much cause I know you're also a busy person.. " He sighed. "And Oh— Are you one of my Bubble subscribers? Cute.. " He chuckled as his fingers went through her hair to ruffling it.

"Alright now, tell me everything. What is on your mind" With that, his hand leaving her hair and back into the steering wheel.

"They.. Also sent me a lot of hate speech.. And death threats.." Hearing the words, his eyebrows furrowed slightly following by the seriousness drew against his handsome face.

"Wha— fuckin sasaengs. Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I'm sorry. I don't feel like I should tell you... You know Baekhyun, they even showed up a couple times in my gallery and tried to grasp my hair.. "

Right, it was around three months ago when you decided to visit the man in his apartment. The watch on your wrist showed it already twelve o'clock in the middle of the night so you thought it was safe to wandering around his apartment and you didn't wear any mask to cover your face. When you arrived at the apartment, the door was slightly ajar. Your heart almost leap out of your chest as your ears caught him shouting following by the voice of a woman crying.

Curious, you braved yourself to stepped inside his apartment and the scene in front of you successfully made your mouth hung open filled with fear. You could feel your blood pumping in a quick tempo when hus eyes flickered to yours. There he was, Baekhyun. His face was red from the anger. His voice was so loud and clear when he told the woman to leave him the fuck alone. You could even see his neck veins popping out when he shouted. It was the first time you saw him so angry.

A second later, the woman noticed your presence because you were standing not far from both of them. She immediately turned around and rushed towards the door. Her eyes bore into yours with pure hatred and bitterness. You were ready to leave also because you know Baekhyun wasn't really in the mood and you tried your best to respect him but a words that came out from his mouth not long after was like a magic spell against your body caused you to stop walking. Stay. With that, you turned around and brought him into a warm embrace.

After the incident that night, of course you started to receiving all the hate messages through your phone and even some random woman tried to grasp your hair more than twice. Maybe they found out already the famous Byun Baekhyun has a girlfriend.

"Then what did you do?" He continued.

"No.. I didn't do anything. I tried my best to keep calm as the woman being dragged out of the gallery by some security guy. I remember she shouted something like die bitch, Baekhyun doesn't like you, he doesn't want to fuck you. You even have a s—" You decided not to let the words out as soon as you realized you don't want to talk about that.

"Oh shut up they literally have no idea about what is actually happening behind the closed door when I make love to you frequently in a week so.." Baekhyun answered right away but the words rolled out his tongue successfully made your cheeks turning into a rosy color following by a light smack from you towards his arm.

"What? Its true!" A deep hearty laugh escaped his lips showing his mochi cheeks into your view.

You could only shake your head and turned back into the road. Slowly, you could feel your eyes drifted off and thinking maybe you need a cup of coffee or will Baekhyun let you sleep leaving him driving alone? Of course, he wouldn't. The time you leaned back comfortably against your seat ready to get some sleep, Baekhyun's singing voice greeted you. He was half screaming when he sing to Versace On The Floor by Bruno Mars while his fingers went into her upper arm squeezing you.

"So baby let's just down the lights and close the dooooor.. Uuuuuhhhhh I love that dress but you won't need it aaanyymoore" He sang his heart out half laughing. "You don't need that anymore. Take it off. Should we pull over?" He pointed against your hoodie.

"Byun—" It happened in a blur because the time you realized, the engine was already died and you were sitting on his lap against the driver seat. It was the way his eyes light up with adoration when he saw your shocked face. He couldn't help but let out an adorable giggle.

"Hello there, pretty baby" He then tucked a hair behind your ear before pulling his seat backward so you wouldn't hit your bum against the wheel.

"Baekhyun what are you doing? If you tired then let me driv—" Again, he wouldn't let you finish talking because you could feel his soft pillow pressed into yours softly. You were about to push him away but Byun Baekhyun owned the magic. Baekhyun smells like his favorite wood scent combined with his natural scent. So addicting.

And then its here again, the familiar feeling you never getting used to. Its feel like someone scratches a rose petals up and down against her belly in a very slow movement. Your lips moved perfectly against each other with your fingers disappeared inside his soft hair. Meanwhile Baekhyun's hands find its way into your hoodie, mumbling between your lips to tell you to take it off.

You couldn't really say a word because he was already all over you. Without thinking twice, you pulled it over your head with Baekhyun's fingers never leave your skin even just for a second. He pulled you closer by the hips and as roughness of his pants down there brushed lightly against yours causing some kind of electricity spread out ever so quickly.

Baekhyun then continued his sweet kisses against your jawline down to your neck. His warm breath caressed your skin in a soyway earning a light ah escaped from your lips. kiss her jawline down to her neck. Your eyes closed, trying to control everything inside. And when Baekhyun's cool fingertips brushed against your lower belly, you caught his face harshly with both of your palm rested against his cheeks.

"Seriously Byun, what are you trying to do?" You breathed out. "I'm not doing it in your audi"

The man looked up against yours. You never thought you would end up wrapped around his fingers on the day you moved back to Korea. Oh how much you just want to hug him forever because seeing his adorable face this close makes your heart aches.

"My audi, my rules."

#baekhyun fluff #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun scenarios #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun oneshot

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outofsstyles · 4 years

Text

KILLER QUEEN (80s!AU)

A/N: Heyaa!! So here’s what happens when I watch Sing Street right after reading some of Olivia’s boyfriend!Harry prompts :) Also a huge thank you to Soph @canyon-moan for betaing this for me!! A gentle reminder that I was not, in fact, alive in the 80s so please take it easy in that aspect lol. If you like it *please reblog*, it helps a lot, also I’d love to hear your feedback!!!!

Word count: 25.3k (I have no self control!! Someone stop me!!)

Pairing: Musician!Harry + Bassist!Reader

Prompts: making it official + enemies but secretly lovers

Warnings: Our typical mentions of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll (and a lot of denim!)

Concept: You and Harry are in rival bands and you shouldn’t really get along but you can’t help it.

❁ ❁ ❁

It didn’t come as a surprise to you that, from the moment you agreed to be part of the band, your agenda would become more frantic. That’s all you read on magazines or see on the television on those late nights MTV programs that love to talk about that rockstar life. The shows and the sleepless nights. The drugs and the sex between stages. It’s always what comes to the minds of anyone that thinks about following the music path.

Of course, you’re far from being The Bangles or Duran Duran, but even when it comes to playing for uninterested drunks on small crummy bars, you still found yourself barely able to catch a breather from it.

And it also doesn’t help that on top of it all, you also try your best to balancing your studies as you go into your third year of uni. So, between being tucked behind your bass during rehearsals and going around begging for stuck up pub owners to give a spot, you still have to find time for the busy class schedule that also blends with your tutoring job on the side. Sometimes it feels like juggling those two contrasting lives is too much, and when you walk home each day too exhausted to even function, you ponder if you should just drop one of them.

You still manage to fall into a rather chaotic routine of dragging through weekdays to fall into reckless weekends. It’s not easy, but you make it work.

Today, however, seemed to be an odd one. From the moment you woke up with the sound of birds chirping and the faint conversation of your neighbors outside your window, you felt a sense of relaxation that has become a rarity to you. It’s a welcoming change from your usual rowdy roommates bantering at each other or the loud music blasting through the walls that serve as your alarm on regular days. The silence that engrosses your normally-chaotic home is calming as much as it is strange.

The whole day went by in a lulling and lazy pace, and between your several attempts of keeping yourself occupied (that being going on a walk to the library or going through your mom’s old recipe book) you actually catch yourself realizing the quietness can be louder than your roommates.

It’s a weird concept to you. Missing them when you spend so much time together in the band, but you still can’t help it. So you just blast the radio and let Rio fill in the empty walls as you wait for one of them to come home.

By the time the night falls, wind thumping on the closed windows as the first thin drops of rain start to hit the glass, Lena is back from her shift with a low huff and a roll of her eyes, mumbling how she’s never covering weekend shifts ever again -- which you both know is not true, but neither mention it. And that’s how you find yourself at the end of your unruffled day, tucked at the end of your couch under a cozy blanket. Listening to one of MTV’s nightly programs - that Lena watches almost religiously after a day of work - as background noise. You focus on the open book settled on top of your lap, enjoying her company quietly as you flip through the pages.

It could be the perfect ending for a perfectly relaxing day, the sound of the rain almost lulling you to sleep as the words in front of you begin to shuffle, finding it harder to concentrate with your mind drifting off.

But before you can let your eyes fall close and your head snuggle back into the cushions, you’re startled awake by the burst of your front door opening. The sudden noise makes you and Lena jump, a yelp leaving your lips as you look back to the source of your fright.

You barely have any time to feel panicked or even wrap your head around the possibilities of what could have caused the outburst as Abbey barges into the room. She all but jumps on each step, stumbling a bit as she makes her way around the couch to stand tall in front of you. Her red hair is full and damp, droplets of water running down her body, causing her clothes to stick to her skin.

“I got us a gig!” Her breath is short as if she just ran a long way.

“Christ, Abbey, don’t do that!” You relax back into the couch once you realize there’s no real threat invading your home, closing your eyes and letting out a breath. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

She scoffs, “Did you listen to a word I just said?” You notice her eyes are blown out, “I got us a gig, as in a </i> real gig.”

“A real gig?” Lena inquires, standing up to walk towards the front door that was left agape, closing it with a thump.

Abbey’s grin grows, her words come out slow but clear. “Next Saturday in the Blue Bird.”

“That’s in a week.” You state.

Her shoulders drop, “Yeah, and?”

“Blue Bird?” Lena comes in the room again, stopping by the head of the couch and crossing her arms under her chest. “How did you even get that I thought the only band that played there was--”

“You’re right Lena, was as in not anymore because we are playing there, and there’s more.” She interrupts, her voice raising an octave. “The owner, Ronnie, said if we’re good enough he can arrange for us to play every other weekend.”

“You’re insane.” You shake your head slightly. “That’s like a place where people actually go for the music, what makes you think we can pull that off?”

Abbey points a finger at you, “You’re being a pessimist, and that’s not appreciated in here.” She waves her hands around, trying to assert her point. “We can and we will pull that off and take over the permanent spot on the weekends.”

“Is that what this is about?” Lena smirks, eyebrows raising at her friend. “It’s been a hot minute since you raged about that Harry boy.”

“It’s not just about him, Adeline.” She barks, “It’s about us! We need to find our confidence again.”

“Again?” You speak out, making her snap her eyes back at you.

“Yes, again.” She says, “We’re doing this and it’s gonna be wicked.”

You sigh, nodding in agreement as you exchange a knowing look with Lena.

In all fairness, the prospect of playing a gig at an actual music house is as exciting as it is scary. It’s not like you think you’re not able to pull it off, but the simple thought of having people actually paying attention to your presence on stage is enough to make you want to hide under your covers and never come out. But seeing Abbey so pumped about it, there’s no way in a million years you’d ever say no.

She was the one that wanted to start a band, after all. Before she dropped out, in what seems like ages ago, she was your roommate that would drag you around every time she had those spontaneous ideas, that is going out for pancakes at three in the morning, go on weekend trips to concerts two cities away, or, well, start a band herself.

In the beginning, it was just the three of you, Abbey as the lead, you on the bass, and a girl you met on one of the said weekend trips, who had introduced herself as Lena, on the guitar. And not even a month later, you were all living together in a tiny house near the main street.

At first, the biggest issue, to your surprises, was that you couldn’t find a drummer if your lives depended on it. Even after putting out posters around campus, you only got two calls from men whose only interest was the “all-girls band” part of it. Things got better when you met Jaz, a smiley girl from your Phonetics class. She wasn’t a drummer, but her boyfriend was, they both played for their High School band (which is how they met, a proper movie-worthy story if they’d ask you). And just like that, you got yourselves a drummer and a keyboardist.

For the next few months that followed you played on dirty bars and house parties, getting paid with tipsy pats on your backs, or, if you were lucky, maybe a pack of cheap drinks for you all to share. It’s the frustrating part of trying to get into the music path, you found, most serious places were not interested on a band with hardly any live experience and no original songs whatsoever. So you just had to take whatever opportunity came your way. Once, you even played on the birthday party of Lena’s manager’s daughter, which was probably the most disastrous experience of them all, considering a crowd of eight-year-olds and their posh moms weren’t exactly fond of listening to loud covers of Blondie. You got to play three full songs before one of them asked you to leave.

The first time you actually got money was when Abbey dragged you and Lena to play on the sidewalk of the National Park, where people would come and go with their busy lives and full wallets. That was the best one, you easily got three hundred within a few hours of your open cases, which was split between the three of you at the end of the day.

Afterward, you wanted to play on the streets again, but Abbey wished more than just being a street performer, she yearned for the glow of the spotlights and a place on the stage. And it’s not like you lot didn’t think of it as well, how it would be like to have an actual gig. So, you just went back to the old routine of jumping from bar to bar. Playing for people that couldn't care less about your presence on the small stage, focusing only on their cheap beers and drunk conversations.

For a while it seemed like that was all there was to it, the music scene getting more congested by the minute, you thought there was no way you’d ever make it out there. There were moments you even thought about giving it up, if you were honest, setting your mind into getting your English degree that at least has the guarantee of a stable paycheck by the end of it. But as Abbey always says, there’s nothing you can’t do with a twist of your hair and a bat of your lashes. And somehow, she managed to be true to her word, presenting an opportunity to actually start taking this seriously.

And it would be a lie to say there isn’t an excitement growing at the pit of your stomach the more you think about it.

❁ ❁ ❁

You’ve heard about the Blue Bird before.

Of course you have, it’s near to impossible not to. Being in a small town, predominantly surrounded by uni students, and that being the only music pub in the area, you’ve heard about it quite often.

It’s become quite the hot spot for people interested in listening to good music while getting lost in the bottom of their beer glasses. With the only other competitor being a good forty-minute drive away, people go in crowds on the weekends as a getaway from their textbooks. You’re not sure why you’ve never been in it, though, only going as far as walking past it on your nightly walks during the week, listening to the faint sound of whatever band’s playing at the time.

But if there’s one thing that’s always brought up when the subject is the Blue Bird is CHASM, more specifically Harry Styles. They have the permanent spot on the weekends and have become one of the main reason people - women, mainly - come in lots to have a spot inside the packed space.

As much as his name comes up in a dreamy sigh and followed by a string of giggles when you hear it being mentioned by a classmate or overhear it somewhere in public, inside of your bubble he’s pretty much only mentioned in annoyed huffs or with a roll of eyes. If you’re honest, you know close to nothing about him, wouldn’t even be able to point him out on the street if you ever happen to cross paths. But you do know that Abbey is not fond of him in the slightest, so for that, you try to keep your distance from anything that has to do with Harry Styles.

You’re not sure how this hatred of her came to be and to be honest, you’ve never really been bothered enough to ask. Abbey doesn’t like a lot of people, her first impression of them it’s what she keeps in her heart with zero to no chance of changing it, so you just assume this Harry guy might’ve not given her a good one. It’s never really been something you really dwelled on, the circumstances in your life allowing you to ignore his existence unless he’s being spoken of. But it feels like a whole nother story now that you’ve essentially stolen his golden spot on the saturday night.

The moment you walk into The Blue Bird is when you start to come to the realization that this is really happening. Not even a full step in, your eyes already dart to the big stage standing tall across from the entrance door, bigger than any other one you’ve ever been in -- being used to small platforms that barely have enough space to fit a drumset. it’s hard not to let your lips part in awe at the size of it all, the outside is rather modest compared to it, the only really striking detail being the LED sign with the name of the pub. There’s a large bar standing in the middle of the place, serving almost as a divisor of the two areas of the pub. The first area is the one you walk into as you first enter the place, with tables surrounding the space -- that now have their chairs propped on top of them, and you reckon this is where people sit around as they wait for the musical act of afterward when they can barely keep themselves up on their feet. The second area, however, it’s just empty of any barrier, except from the stools lined in front of the bar, meant mainly for people to crowd in front of the stage.

The walls are what catches your attention, though. The one where the front door stands is covered with magazines and newspaper cutouts of celebrities, scandalous headlines written in big bold letters, and random articles about their personal lives. On top of this big collage, there are band posters, you assume the ones that played in here, most of them stuck once to the wall, except for one that you can see multiple different colored papers with the same name written on it.

You stop in front of one of them, one that’s just below your eyesight but catches your attention with the big blood-red letters that read CHASM on top of it, with a smaller font on the side saying “live every weekend of ‘87” right below it. What you focus on, however, are the five faces staring back at you, their serious expressions looking almost haunting with the black and white filter. But it’s the one in the middle that your eyes immediately dart to. Unlike his bandmates, his lips are frozen with a slight smirk, small enough that wandering eyes could easily miss it, but still prominent enough that you can make out the shadow of a dimple on his cheek. His hair is settled in a wild nest, but not in a sloppy way, you decide, they’re a rockstar kind of messy. He’s handsome, there’s no doubt in that, just by looking at the small print of his face you can understand what the fuss is about, not that you’d ever admit that out loud. But it doesn’t keep your mind from wondering the color of his eyes and what it would be like to see them up close, as you look back at the taunting grin you think what could be the tone of his lips or--

“Lost something in there?” Lena’s voice makes you jump, turning swiftly to find her grinning at you. “You should come and start getting everything ready before Abbey finds you admiring our arch-nemesis.”

Your eyes widen, coughing in surprise as you try to regain composure after being caught. “I-- I wasn’t--”

She chuckles, turning to roam back to the stage before you can finish, throwing you one last look over her shoulder. “Sure thing, buttercup.”

You spare one last look to the poster before following her lead to the other side of the room where the rest of your friends are setting up the instruments on top of the stage. Once you locate your case tucked in the far left corner you quickly open it, finding your soft pink tinted bass resting inside of it. The Sesame Street sparkling stickers stuck to it glimmer from this angle (you got them in a favor bag from when you played at the birthday party), thanks to one of the spotlights shining directly at them. You pick the instrument up, adjusting the strap over your shoulder and giving the chords a few experimental strokes before looking up at the empty place.

There’s no denial of the anticipation that takes over every part of your body at the sight of the pub from the stage. A perfect mixture of excitement and anxiousness that lights up as you imagine how it will be like to see it filled up. It makes you gnawn at you bottom lip, jumping a bit on you feet as you move to connect your bass to the amplifier.

For a while, you just finish setting up the stage, tuning in the instruments, the sounds echoing on the empty space in a bit of a disarray, as you get used to the feeling of using proper sound equipment. You had the chance to meet the owner, Ronnie, for a brief minute as he strolled around the stage, observing you all before mumbling something about paying anything you broke and announcing he’d be in his office until opening hours. It wasn’t the warmest greeting you’ll admit, but you don’t really care, enjoying the opportunity nevertheless.

Abbey arrives just a few minutes before the rehearsal is set to start, contemplating the view of everyone getting into a more of a harmonic arrangement before disappearing backstage for a moment without saying much of a word. When she comes back, she props herself in front of a big curved mirror cutting through one of the walls.

“Do you think you can do my makeup today, babe?” She calls back at you, gazing from over her shoulder with a slight pout on her ips.

“Sure.” You fiddle with the guitar pick between your fingers. “Do you want that rainbow look from last time?”

“Maybe something with less color this time.” She focuses back on her reflection, sighing loudly as fingers run through her locks. “I’m thinking of dying my hair black,” she tilts her head as if she’s envisioning her words. “I don’t know, just to try out something new.”

“That won’t make you look more like Joan Jett, you know.” A voice echoes in the empty space, bringing your attention to the entrance of the place.

And there he stands. The figure you had been staring at not long before, on the same poster stuck right behind where he is leaning, arms crossed and a smug look on his face.

Harry stands there as if he just walked right out of the big screen, is the kind of beautiful you don’t see quite often outside a magazine cover. Not that it’s something that surprises you, considering you could tell from even a poorly printed image on a poster that the sharp curve of his jaw and the cut of his cheekbones could call anyone’s attention from afar. Even with what you find to be a rather plain outfit for someone like him, a simple white turtleneck tucked in his lightwash jeans, matched with a denim jacket, he still manages to stand out somehow. It’s almost compelling, really. And you can’t help but follow him with your eyes as he pushes himself off the wall, making his way towards the bar with an attitude as if he owns the place.

Abbey scoffs from her spot, arms crossing under her chest. “Unlike you, I don’t have to try to be someone else to get attention, Styles.”

He rests an elbow on top of the counter, chuckling as he points a finger at your friend. “You’re getting better at this, I’m proud.”

“What the fuck are you even doing here?” She barks, keeping a stern look pointed at him.

“Wanted to check out who stole our Saturday night spot, princess.” He spits back at her, words dancing around the room in a teasing manner. “When Ronnie said it was a bunch of newbies had to see it with my own eyes.” Unlike her, he doesn’t seem bitter at the situation in hand, but somewhat amused at the heated girl scoffing at him. From the distance you stand, you can’t make out details, but it’s still enough to notice the grin imprinted on his face, dimples marking his cheeks as he clenches his jaw, eyes wandering around the stage as he leans back fully to rest both elbows on top of the stool. “Plus, I get free booze before the House opens.”

As the words leave his lips his eyes meet yours, and you quickly realize you must’ve been staring for quite a while. You see the smirk growing on his face before you quickly look back at the forgotten bass in your hands. There’s a warmth creeping from your neck to the tip of your ears from getting caught all but gawking at him. You move your hands to the cords, beginning to tune the instrument as an attempt to cover-up. But when you take a peek at him you still find his eyes watching you, only enhancing the blush that’s now undoubtedly taking over your cheeks.

“You lot are way more organized than I expected.” He speaks up again, motioning towards Ross sitting by the side of the stage near the drumset. “Got a roadie and everything.”

“Piss off!” Ross snarls back at him.

Harry just smiles. “Just taking a piss, mate.”

“I better not see you going around trying to get to one of my girls, Styles.” Abbey calls back from her shoulder as she jumps onto the stage, turning to face him. “Or you’re a dead man.”

“What’s that they can’t speak for themselves?” He arches his brows at her. “Where’s all that sexual freedom you love to brag about?”

“You’d love to use that as an excuse, wouldn’t you?” She toys with the mic stand. “You stay away from them.”

There’s no more banter once you begin the rehearsal. Harry grabbing a glass of a drink you can’t quite make out from the distance and moves to a spot tucked by the back of the place. Curiously, you catch yourself glimpsing in his direction every so often, but you can barely make out his silhouette due to the stage lights limiting your vision. At one point, when it dims down, you can see him scrunching over the table, focusing on a small journal sitting on top of it -- you find it odd his choice of place to do so, but don’t duel on it too much.

What keeps crawling back into your mind is Abbey’s words to Harry earlier, telling him to not try his way with any of you. She was talking about you. That much was clear, considering there’s not any other choice for him, with Jaz being very much compromised and Lena having no interest in engaging with men in any way. That leaves you as the only option that he could possibly pursue. It makes you think why she’d even consider that a possibility in the first place, but you push it to the back of your mind, concentrating on you bass lines until it’s around the opening hour and you’re getting ready backstage.

None of you are used to the concept of having a dressing room, so as undusted as it seems from a first glance, it still only helps to enhance the reality that hits you of this whole experience. The far voices from people starting to fill in the bar outside making your nerves become near overwhelming as you try to apply some eyeshadow with shaky hands.

When you’re all ready to go, just about half an hour away from walking onstage, you try to dull your anxiety with a cup handed to you by Lena of something you’re not quite sure what it is but it tastes like oranges and tequila. You settle on a spot on the certainly old red couch prompted against the wall. Avoiding a big rip cutting through the middle of it, foam poking out of the hole, you try not to think of what could’ve caused it -- or all the other stains adorning it.

There’s people coming and going around the space, the door not staying close for longer than a minute. Faster than you can process it, the room is suddenly crammed with people, none of which you recognize yet they greet you as if you’d been friends your whole life. Their loud voices mesh together, making it harder to even hear your own voice if you were to speak out loud. A strong scent of incense takes over the room, so intense you can feel the beginning of a headache. There are people stumbling on their feet trying to get to the stool across from you, where you catch a glimpse of a man with a messy mohawk snorting something out of a dirty bill.

Two strangers found their sits next to you at some point - not paying the same attention you had to the rip scarring through the cushions. Both get lost in their conversation, the man’s fluffed curls poking your face occasionally when he gets too excited with the hand gestures. You catch a word or two when they try to include you in it, you offer a simple nod, not bothering to try and understand their muddled words.

It all starts to feel a bit overwhelming, the amount of strangers surrounding you along with the nervous feeling that’s already taking over your stomach -- the drink not being of any help at all. You look around trying to find a familiar face, but you can barely spot the green ends of Lena’s hair through the crowd. Gazing down at your wrist clock, you figure there’s enough time for you to find a emptier spot so you can calm yourself down.

“I think I’m gonna get some air.” You say to no one in particular, seeing the man’s head nodding from your peripheral vision as you maneuver your way between leather-clad bodies towards the door.

You’re met with a just as packed hallway. Searching for a more vacant space, you spot a sign indicating an exit door that had been pointed at you earlier as the back alleyway. Without a second thought, you make your way around the crowded space. The nest of feet makes you trip slightly, making you crash against a girl standing next to the door. You mutter a quick apology, but you’re only met with a pitched giggle in response.

Once you reach the door you all but jolt your way out of the building. The brisk night air hitting your face, bringing a sense of relief near to instantly. You close your eyes at the feeling, breathing in as the breeze dances around your face and messes with your air.

“Well, if it’s not one of Abigail’s bunnies.” A voice cuts through the air, breaking you from your moment of relief. Your eyes flutter open, meeting Harry’s irises watching you. He’s leaning back on the wall across from you, foot prompt up and jacket thrown over his shoulders. His fingers fiddle with a closed package of cigarettes, dimples shadowing on his face in amusement.

You blink at him, taking a second to process his words. “I’m not a bunny, whatever that means.”

His lips twitch up. “I’m sure you’re not, darling.”

You observe as he thumbs the package in hand open, quickly grabbing a cigarette and resting it between his lips. “Need a light for that?”

His brows shoot up. “Didn’t take you for a smoker, angel.”

“I’m not, my friends are.” You reach for the back pocket of your jeans, pulling out a tiny pink lighter and throwing it towards him.

He catches it, holding it up between his index and middle finger. “You carry that around for your friends?” He keeps his eyes trained on you as he raises the lighter, flicking it so it paints the end of the cigarette a fiery orange. You can’t help but notice the chipped black nail polish adorning his nails, a couple of rings hugging his fingers, only adding to his rockstar persona. His cheeks hollow around it, taking a slow drag exhaling smooth puffs of smoke out of his puckered lips. He points the end of the cigarette towards you. “That’s a good girl.”

You feel your breath hitch on your throat, looking down as you feel for the second time in the day a heat taking over your cheeks. Standing awkwardly in the middle of the alleyway, your gaze waves around checking a few other lone smokers not too far from you. When you peek at him again, he’s still watching you with the same smug look he had when he first walked in. From this distance you can get a better look at his face, with it’s full colors, and you make a point to figure the forest green of his eyes flickering under the dim light.

You clear your throat, trying to fill in the silence that’s taken over the space. Keeping your eyes still trained on a random spot where the alley meets the street, you speak up, “So, how did get a gig here?”

“Trying to get to know me now, love?” There’s a smug tone to his voice, and it makes you shoot your eyes at him.

You shake your head, scoffing softly. “Was trying to be nice, forget it.”

He lets the air fall quiet for a beat, the corner of his lips tugging up as he takes another drag of the cigarette. “My uncle owns the place.”

“Ronnie is your uncle?” You crease your eyebrows.

“Yup.” He props his foot down from the wall, kicking a small rock on the floor. “He’s a right prick, but he can be nice if you get on his soft spot.” He shrugs, eyes meeting yours. “What ‘bout you, bunny?”

“What about me?”

“How did you get in the spotlight?”

You breathe out a laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not in the spotlight,”

“You’re stepping on that stage in a few minutes, love, that’s hardly true.”

You chew on your lip, locking your eyes on your feet as you sway back and forth gently. “But I’m, like, on the invisible side of the stage.”

“Invisible side?”

You shrug, trying to appear unflappable. “Yeah, well, no one ever notices the bassist.”

“I do.” He says without skipping a beat, and when you search for his eyes they’re aloof as if the words just left his lips without a single implication behind them. You wonder if there is one. Or maybe you’re just reading too much into it. Nonetheless, it doesn’t stop a flock of butterflies to sweep on your stomach as he shoots you a warm smile. He motions to the door behind you with his head, “Better get going, darling, if someone spots us talking they might think we’re friends.”

❁ ❁ ❁

“Did you see how crazy they went when we did Call Me?” Abbey leans over the table, not paying any mind to the way it starts to tilt towards her side. You and Jaz quickly balance the weight, straightening surface before the filled cups can start sliding down and causing a mess. You give her a scolding look for not being careful, but she doesn’t even look at you, only picking a fry from the pile in the middle and dipping inside her vanilla milkshake, sitting back and elbowing Lena next to her playfully. “And to think you said it’s not a gig song.”

“I didn’t say that.” Lena shakes the cup in her hand, circling the straw as to mix the melting ice cream inside, completely unfazed by her friend’s tease. “Just said we should do something new if people wanted old songs they would tune on that good times radio station, or whatever it’s called.”

“People like listening to classics!” Abbey protests, raising her voice bit, she’s either forgotten she’s in public or is just simply too stoned to care. Either way, you try to shush her, muffling a giggle with the back of your hand as you see a group two tables down looking back at her. She only huffs, leaning back down on her seat, “What do you suggest we play, then? Duran Duran?”

“I like Duran Duran.” You pester, trying to repress a smile as she shoots you a pointed look.

“I actually think Duran Duran is a great idea.” Lena backs you up, the same taunting smile reflecting on her face as she says it looking at you.

“You two are completely insane if you think I’m singing new wave, might as well start to fill in for a new vocalist.” She shoves her hand full of fries, dropping to her side of the table with a shrug.

“Jaz you think that girl from your choir is available? The blonde one?” Lena bites into her straw, barely containing her laugh as Abbey narrows her eyes at her.

You watch in amusement from across the table, the contrast between Lena and Abbey looking comical as they continue to banter at each other. In one side there’s Lena who’s leaning back on the wall next to her, her neon pink jumpsuit standing out from anyone else in your group, hair hardly styled, being more of a nest in her head, the sides shaved and the back falling on her shoulders in a mullet. On the other side, Abbey’s swallowed in black, the only color being the red of her hair, that’s pushed up in a high side ponytail.

It was her idea to come to the diner after the gig, declining every offer of an after party (which is new for her) and insisting you had to have this moment to decompress together as a band. What you didn’t take account of, is that a diner on a Saturday night isn’t exactly a deserted place. So after spending an hour sitting on the parking lot, waiting for a table, you finally got yourselves a booth tucked by the back. And now as the place gets clearer and quieter by the minute, after getting your round of burgers, you share a big pile of fries, not ready to leave and sleep on this experience just yet.

“You know who also seem to enjoy the show? That Harry dude.” The mention of his name calls your attention to Lena. “Caught him in the corner a couple times watching us.”

You take a sip of his drink, trying to mask any expression that exposes the fact that you’d noticed too, maybe more than just a couple times.

To your relief, everyone focuses on Abbey as she lets out an annoyed huff. “Why’d you bring him up of all people.” She picks up her nearly empty cup a bit too harshly, her voice rising again. “He called me a Joan Jett wannabe! Fucking prick.”

“You do dress like her,” Lena raises her brows in defiance.

“It’s called an inspiration, Adeline, doesn’t mean I’m trying to be her.” She barks at her friend. “Doesn’t give that knobhead the right to be a dick about it.”

“Why don’t you like him?” The question slips out of your lips before you can stop it, and you regret it as soon as all eyes on the table set on you, Abbey’s face creasing in an incredulous look as if the answer was obvious.

“Are you serious? Did you hear how he spoke to us?”

“I don’t know,” You shrug, looking down at your lap, fiddling with the hem of your shorts. “Just seemed like he was trying to get a rise out of you.”

“He’s got a stick up his ass, babe. A full narcissist, it’s ridiculous.” She shakes her head, scrunching her nose in aversion. “He’s also a complete womanizer, it’s disgusting if you ask me.”

“I guess,” You gaze up at her.”

“Babe, he’s a charmer, I’ve seen it before, he knows how to sweet talk someone.” She explains in a sigh. “They’re all like that.”

“They?”

“Men in bands.” She picks up another fry, poking it on her forehead as she makes her point. “Have their heads bigger than the whole stage, think they can do just about anything.”

“Suppose that’s true,” You agree, not wanting to get further in this discussion.

She smiles, biting a piece of the fry before pointing it at you. “It is, which is why we are smart girls and don’t fuck with them.”

❁ ❁ ❁

You’re aware that going for a walk by yourself at night is not a very secure choice.

Even living in what you feel like could be the most monotone town in the area (where the biggest report on the local news was when two boys got stuck on a tree thanks to a dare with their friends). But it still doesn’t stop you from being careful, only going around the busier streets, watching the movement of people - mostly students - chatting the night away on the filled pub table, enjoying the short break between studies before going back at it once the weekend’s over.

You stroll around with not much of a purpose, really, only needing a bit of time to yourself every so often when you feel the turmoil in your home becomes to much (on those weekends when both your roommates decide to stay home). So you just go on your usual path, breathing in the night air and enjoying some alone time.

The ending of your course is marked by none other than the Blue Bird, standing in a corner of the main street.

A small group of people is gathered in front of it, smoking their cigarettes. You stare at them for a minute as you get closer to the led lights indicating the entrance of the pub, the girls with their bright-colored outfits, hair styled and puffed up as they laugh along to whatever one of the boys has said. One of them has a leather jacket thrown over her shoulder that almost swallows her figure, and you can only assume that it belongs to the man talking to her, leaning back on a payphone, the quiff in his hair so high it makes him look like a knock-off John Travolta. The thought makes you breathe out a laugh to yourself.

Once you reach the entrance you look at it mindlessly, not being able to see much from outside except the string curtain hanged on top of the open door. You turn on your heels, ready to start making your way back, but as you pay attention to the muffled sounds coming from inside the pub you stop on your tracks. A familiar tune catching your attention, making you turn in the direction of the entry. Somebody to Love.

It peaks your curiosity. If you’re honest, you feel like covering a Queen song is probably one of the most bound for disaster decisions someone can make. But as you feel yourself approaching the entrance, the voice of whoever’s singing it all but lures you inside. It’s not the same as the original, of course, but the lower tone to it fits it just as beautifully and once you fully walk in you can almost feel your heart skip a beat to find Harry standing on stage. His eyes closed in concentration.

It’s saturday. His saturday night. You forgot about that.

You don’t dare to try to mend amongst the crowd of people packed in front of the stage, making your way to the bar. You thankfully find an empty stool without much of a fight, allowing you a perfect vision of the stage.

Harry is playing the guitar, his voice blending perfectly with the vocals of the girls in the background, eyes closed as he feels every lyric coming out of his throat. His stage look is much different than the one he wore back when you first saw him, it’s something you reckon not many people could rock out as good as he does. A mismatched suit, light green blazer with a pink blouse underneath, along with bright blue trousers -- it’s as if he picked one piece from different colored suits (which you assume he probably did). The locks of his hair are no longer running wild on his head, instead, it’s gelled back, a single rebel strand falling charmingly against his forehead. You wonder if it’s on purpose.

It’s quite a sight to see him like this, you’re not gonna lie. All suited up with no tie, the blouse only partially buttoned so you notice a tease of some tattoos on his chest. You’d noticed his good looks before, it’s impossible not to, but there’s something about the stage glow that makes it impossible to look away from him. It’s mesmerizing.

To your surprise, the rest of his set mainly consists of originals, and unlike you’d expect for any amateur band that dares to sweep away from covers, he manages to hold the crowd’s attention as if he’s singing any other hit song you hear on the radio. Even not knowing the lyrics, people cheer along to the songs, moving to the beat as best as they can in the crowded space. And that’s a direct result of the charisma he holds while standing on stage.

It’s entrancing, really, how he holds himself as if he was born to be doing this. And you think maybe he was.

There’s a mischievous glow to him, when he rocks out to his own songs, grinding slightly against the mic stand. A gesture that makes you flustered even from your seat a couple of meters away. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him even if you tried. And you’re sure as hell not trying.

At one point you feel a poke in your arm, turning around to be met with the barman who recognizes you from the week prior. He greets you with a shout over the noise, offering you a drink on his account. Your first instinct is to refuse, considering you weren’t even supposed to stay for long, but after a bit of insisting on his part you accept with a shy smile.

By the time he’s ending the last song, you’re at the edge of your seat, catching yourself wishing you could see more of him. The lights in the audience turn on as he wraps up the set, and just before he bows down with the rest of his band his eyes wander in your direction. It’s so quickly that you think you could’ve just imagined it, considering his eyes don’t meet yours again, only rushing his way backstage.

You blink at the empty spot where he once stood for a moment, almost feeling frozen in place as you try to take in what happened. Turning on your stool to face the bar, you gaze down at your forgotten drink. You hold it to your lips, deciding to finish it so you can ease your way out before anyone else spots you. Your attempt is frustrated, however, when you hear a voice coming from behind you.

“Reckon Abbey Road would throw a fit if she knew you’re wandering around watching my concert.” You turn to face Harry, finding him looking down at you, signature smirk making his dimples poke onto his cheeks. His hands are hidden inside the pockets of his dress pants and he’s taken off his blazer, causing the pink of his blouse to stand out even more.

You chew the inside of your lip. “I can make my own decisions, you know.”

“That’s good to hear, bunny.” His smile grows, hand leaving the pocket to motion at the empty spot next to you. “Mind if I sit here?”

“Be my guest.”

He sits on the empty stool, turning to the bartender that’s handing a drink to a man standing behind you. “Can you give the lady another one of what she was drinking? On my tab.”

“Oh you don’t have to, I was about to--” You begin, but the man behind the counter doesn’t care to listen, only picking up your empty glass and moving away to fill it up. “leave.”

“Already?” Harry arches his eyebrows, resting his arm on top of the counter and leaning towards you. His voice comes out a bit softer, dropping the playful tone, “let me buy you a drink, angel.”

You ignore the way the hairs on your neck rise at the petname. “You really don’t have to--”

“I want to.”

“Okay.” You breathe out, not being able to hold back your smile once his own grows on his face.

As if on cue, the bartender comes back with two glasses, setting them in front of the two of you. You don’t fail to note the fact that he gives Harry his drink without being asked to.

He picks up his glass, holding it up, to which you do the same, clinking your glasses slightly before taking a sip. “So, what brings you here tonight? Measuring the competition?”

“I was just walking around, heard a lousy cover of Somebody To Love, and decided to come in.”

He throws his head back a bit in laughter, nose scrunching adorably. You have to look away as to not find yourself staring. “A Queen fan, then?”

“You could say so.”

“A pretty girl with a good taste in music, gonna steal m’heart if you keep going, bunny.” And just like that, it’s like he takes all the words out of your mind. You only let out a small chuckle, taking a sip of your drink as you look away to cove the blush that paints your cheeks. His eyes are still trained on you, though. “Was it any good?”

“Huh?” You blink back at him.

“The cover.” He grins. “Or was it really that lousy?”

“Oh, it was amazing.” You say truthfully, clearing your throat. “You have a beautiful voice.”

“Thank you.” He bows his head slightly, smiling at you. And unlike before, it��s not smug, but rather warm, you smile back at him. “Enjoyed the show, then?”

“I did.” You nod.

“I’m glad.” He runs his finger around the brim of his glass, tapping against it once with a click of his ring against the glass. “What would you change about it?”

The question takes you back. “What would I change?”

“Yeah.” He clasps his hands over his lap, moving his feet on the floor so his stool swivels from one side to the other.

“Uhm…” You crease your brows, trying to hack your brain for an answer. Your eyes land on his blouse, still halfway unbuttoned. “Your shirt.”

“M’shirt?” He questions, brows shooting towards his hairline, clearly not expecting the answer. He gazes down at the piece on his body, fingers pitching the material as he looks back at you. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Not a big fan of pink.” You shrug.

“Now, we just can’t have that, bunny.” He clicks his tongue. “Pink is the new color of rock n roll!”

You chuckle. “Says who?”

“Says me.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Oh, I’m sorry then, mister rockstar.”

His face lights up in a giggle, lips parting to say something but before he can let the words out a hand rests on his shoulder calling both your attentions to the man standing next to him. You recognize him from standing next to Harry on stage as the guitar player.

“We’re hopping over to Eamon’s.” He doesn’t acknowledge you until Harry’s eyes hover over in your direction.

“That’s fine, think I’ll stay behind this time.” Harry looks back at his friend, but you see him glimpsing at you from the corner of his eyes.

You watch as his friend raises his brows, gazing between the two of you in a curious manner. You clear your throat, shifting in your seat as you look at them. “ It’s fine, I should get going anyway.”

“You don’t have to,” he says in a blink, a smirk twitching on his lips almost as if to cover up how quickly he said it. He turns back to his friend, who’s still watching the interaction with raised eyebrows. “You can go without me, I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“Harry, you didn’t have to.” You subconsciously reach for his arm, retracting your touch just as fast when he glances at it. Clearing your throat, you play with “I really should get going, I was supposed to be on a walk after all.”

“Let me walk you back then,” he gets up from his stool, giving his friend a brief hug before turning back to you and extending his hand for you to take. Your lips part to protest, feeling as if you’re holding him back even though it was his decision to stay behind, but before the words can even come out of your mouth he beats you to it, “there’s no way I’m letting you go home by yourself this late, love.”

You sigh, shoulder dropping in defeat as you hold back a smile. Taking his hand, you stand up, “okay.”

The main street hasn’t exactly quieted down since you first walked by it, in fact, it only seems like it’s gotten rowdier. Time only increasing the buzz wandering in the air around the people filling the bars, voices louder, filled glasses clinking more frequently. As you stroll through it side by side there’s a comment or to that floats in the air, but you have to all but shout it, fighting with the turmoil of noise.

As soon as you turn into the first street away from the crowds it’s as if someone had turned off the sound completely, the nest of voices getting far-off in the distance and the loudest sound being of the night breeze kissing the tree branches above you. You can feel Harry glancing up at you from the corner of your eye and it doesn’t take long until his voice echoes in the air in an attempt to make small talk.

It’s surprising to you, how easy it is to be drawn in a conversation with him. Harry’s essentially not the same offstage as he is under the spotlight, most people aren’t. There’s no need for him to bloat his charisma when talking to you, he’s quieter. Shy, almost. And it takes you back a bit, to see such contrast in a short amount of time.

The magnetic force to him, however, still lingers even when he’s like this. You feel drawn to it, wanting to hear him speak about everything that comes to mind, just to savor the way he articulates his words, voice so calm and low it sends an electric chill down your spine. As he tells you about his music inspirations, going on the story about the time he traveled alone to crash a Fleetwood Mac concert, hands brushing against yours when he walks, you catch yourself wondering what it would feel like to link them together.

Once you reach your street, just a block away from the entrance gate of your home, you notice the front lights are yet to be turned off, indicating your roommates are still up and around -- most likely arguing about MTV’s top ten of the week. The realization makes you come to an abrupt stop, catching Harry off guard as he takes a few steps before realizing you stayed behind.

“Wait.” You say once he turns around, brows furrowed in a silent question as to why you stopped. “Uhm… You can drop me off here… It’s fine.”

“What do you mean? Is it too far? I don’t mind walking-”

“No!” You interrupt. “It’s not that, my house is right there, see?” You point to the bricked building no too far from where you stand.

“Why do y’want me to drop you off here, then?” The crease on his face deepens.

“I-- it’s just--” you begin, not knowing how to say it. “It’s just the girls are still awake, and..”

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue, an amused grin expanding on his cheeks. “Don’t wanna get scolded for hanging out with the enemy.”

“Don’t say like that.” You chuckle at yourself, looking down in embarrassment. “They just will never let me hear the end of it.”

“I get it, bunny.” He takes easy steps towards you, closing the space as he stands tall in front of you. You hold your breath as you look up at him, meeting his irises glimmering in enjoyment, dimples shadowing on his cheek. His hand reaches up, moving a strand of your hair behind your ear and you swear if he gets any closer he’ll be able to hear your heart thumping in anticipation. “Had a lovely time with you.”

“Me, uhm--” you clear your throat as your voice cracks, blood flooding your cheeks. “Me too.”

The streetlight above gives his face a golden glow that almost takes your breath away, his hair glistening in the light due to the gel pushing it back, and now even more rebel strands curl against his forehead. You half expect him to lean down, you don’t know why he would, but for a moment it seems like he will. To your dismay, however, he steps back, giving you one last smile before moving out of your way on the sidewalk. “I’ll see you around, then.”

❁ ❁ ❁

“I have some exciting news for you.”

Abbey’s voice startles you, not realizing she’d entered the dressing room while you focused on the book on your lap. Since you’ve gotten a spot at every other weekend on the pub, your routine just seemed to get even more busy, with rehearsals almost every day. So, because of that you barely find time to do your assignments. And with a book report due just around the corner, you’d thought maybe you could sneak in some reading time after the gig when everyone’s down at the bar and not prancing and screaming around the dressing room.

Your assumptions shows itself to be wrong, however, when your perky friend bounces her way to where you sit. She kneels next to the couch, crossing her arms on top of your legs and resting her chin on them, looking up at you expectantly, lips lifted in a side grin.

“What is it?”

“Got us an after-party, babe.” you notice a few colored lollies in her hand when she removes the plastic protecting a red one, shoving it between your lips before you can even protest. “And you’re coming with us.”

“I’d love to but I have class tom—“ Your voice is muffled around the sweet.

She rolls her eyes, standing to sit next to you on the arm of the couch. “You should stop wasting your life with an outdated system”

“You mean getting a degree?”

“Do you watch the news? We’re about to be the last generation to live fully, the world is about to break into nuclear wars all around.” She says as a matter-of-fact, turning to rest her legs on top of your lap. “Cosmo said we probably won’t even make it to the 2000s”

“Who’s Cosmo?”

She sighs, reaching to move a strand of your hair behind your ear. Her voice comes out soft, but calculated, “what matters is that we should enjoy our time while we have it.”

“You’re giving a whole speech about nuclear war to convince me to go to a party with you.” You arch your brows at her.

“Yes.”

You sigh, shoulders falling in defeat as you let yourself be convinced. “Okay. But I’ll—”

“Great!!” She squeals, moving her legs from your lap and leaning down to grab your face, pressing a quick kiss on top of your hair before jumping from the couch, and out of the room.

Once you arrive at the location of the after-party, Abbey leads you and Lena to a tall gate by the side of the house, explaining that you’re walking in from the back garden, considering the front door is locked. You find it odd, and if wasn’t for the muted sound of instruments echoing inside the bricked walls of the place, you’d doubt there was even a party happening here at all. The front of it was as regular as the other surrounding suburbian homes, grass neatly trimmed and the front lights turned off, as if nobody was even home.

Which is why you’re visibly taken back when you walk by the gate into the back area, finding an old vintage bus that could be around ten or even twenty years old, sitting in the middle of the grass. The wheels of it have been taken off, and every inch of the exterior is covered by graffiti, so much you couldn’t even make out the original color of it if you tried. Some of them are unreadable scribbles tangling on top of each other. Some are colorful drawings painted over them -- two sunflowers catch your attention, marked just above where the wheel would be, growing tall along the side and above the window.

“I know, right?” Abbey nods at your astounded expression. “Legend says John Lennon signed it somewhere.”

“Really?” You look at her, not able to hold back the way your voice pitches in amazement.

“Dunno, never looked for it.” She shrugs. “C’mon I’ll show you.”

She grabs your hand, dragging you to the side of the vehicle pointing at some random drawings and explaining the rumors behind their meanings. You try to concentrate on her excited babbles, but as you see Lena walking away from the corner of your eye you look up to watch her meet with a girl you’ve never seen. Before you can focus back on your friend, something else catches your attention, sitting on a wooden bench under a large tree, no too far from where you stand.

Harry’s in a small group sat in a circle. You recognize two men from his band sitting on the grass with guitars propped on their laps, one being the same that interrupted you the night at the bar. The rest are women who seem to have come right out of Fleetwood Mac’s tour bus, their long hairs pushed back with hairbands and earthtoned flare pants. But you barely even care about the ones sitting on the grass, humming along to the strings of the guitars. What grabs your attention is the one next to harry on the bench, her arm draped over his shoulder as she dabbles flower petals playfully on his hair.

You hardly take in his appearance, half-mindedly noticing the tattoos decorating his arms that pokes out of his tank top and the twirls on his hair as the girl winds her fingers on it. it’s hard not to remember Abbey’s words when she said he knows how to sweet talk his way around, and the thought of having fallen down on his trap only makes your heart pang on your chest.

“-- That’s basically why they won’t let anyone paint over it anymore.” You turn back to Abbey as she points to the sunflowers you’d spotted earlier, nodding along as if you’d heard everything she said. She looks at you, “but I like this way better, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” You agree, not exactly knowing what to.

She wraps her arm around yours, and you grasp the minty scent of her perfume as she pulls you close. “Let’s go inside.”

There’s an urge inside of you to peek back over your shoulder to catch a last glimpse of Harry, but you push it to the back of your mind, allowing Abbey to guide you around the bus where the entrance door is hanging open.

A small group of people greet you inside the bus, amongst them is the said ‘Cosmo’. He seems like the exact kind of person you’d imagine Abbey hanging around on her weekends’ escapades. Dressed in a baby blue velvet suit with nothing underneath his blazer except a few of - what you assume - hand-painted tattoos, matching with a rainbow stripe drawn on the side of his face, starting at the bridge of his nose and going all the way to the curve of his jaw. His hair hits just around his shoulders, the sides shaved so it’s like a puffed version of a mullet, edges dyed in a bright shade of red. He toys with a lit joint between his purple lips, picking it up and offering to you with a raise of his brows.

Normally you’d decline the offer, especially coming from someone you’d just met, but there’s an annoying feeling settling itself at the pit of your stomach. One you want to ignore but can only do so much to dull it, so you accept the joint, reaching for it and placing it in your mouth.

You’re not a regular smoker by any means, and when you inhale you can feel the smoke burning your throat as it moves down to curl inside your lungs. It makes you want to cough it out but you hold it in, trying to take in everything before huffing it out in a choked breath.

“Do you want a drink?” One of the girls asks you, already pouring you a purple drink inside a labeless plastic bottle.

“What’s in this?” You accept the cup, giving her an skeptic look.

“Pure fuel, babe.” Abbey leans on your shoulder from behind.

You hang out in the bus for a while, and, to your surprise, you don’t feel left out as they keep notice to include you in their conversations. The drink ends up being not that bad, and, even having no idea what’s in it except for the very artificial citric taste mixed with some very strong cheap alcohol, you still refill your cup after you finish it.

It’s a nice feeling, to get a bit looser in a party and allowing yourself to have some adventurous fun. And as time goes by and your mind gets cloudier, the group starts to disperse. Two of them find a spot in the back with as much privacy as they could get in a party to swallow each others faces. Another one passes out in one of the seats behind you, hugging the empty plastic bottle as if it’d run away from them. It leaves just Abbey and Cosmo with you, discussing with each other about something that you’ve stopped paying attention a long while ago.

You just watch them silently, resting your head back on the seat and feeling the late hours weightening on your eyelids. You feel like you could doze off at any moment, but what stops you from it is a loud screeching sound of an amplifier from inside the house. It startles you, making you jump slightly on your seat as you hear a voice speaking almost like a groan, and you’re not sure if it’s your drunken mind or the inaudible words but you can’t make out a single thing that’s being said. A crease deepens between your eyebrows and you turn to question your friend about it but, before you can do so what seems like the most obnoxious cover of We Built This City starts playing.

Abbey gasps as the chords of the song somehow get even louder, grasping her hand on the man’s arm. “Oh my god!” She squeals, exchanging a look with Cosmo as they both all but jump from their seats. She glances down at you, “We’re going in, are you coming?”

You raise your brows at her, trying to hide the scrunch on your face. “I’m good.”

She nods, making her way out of the bus, her feet stumbling on each other as she holds onto her friend’s shoulder to keep her balance. And just like that, you’re left alone on the leather seat.

You peek at the couple in the back, eyes bulging slightly as you see the girl has lost her shirt, the boy’s hands caress her chest as they keep their lips locked harshly. Deciding to give them a bit more privacy, you make your way out of the bus as well, the contrast from the compact air inside the vehicle to the crisp wind of the outdoors sending chills down your body.

Looking around, you realize most people hanging around are gone, probably gone inside the house. You can’t help but let your eyes wander to the spot you’d seen Harry earlier, and you don’t hold back the shock in your face when you find him still sitting on the bench, but this time with no one else around him. He fiddles with a lighter on his hand, flickering every so often to watch the weak flame before letting it die again.

Your feet start to move before you can really grasp that you’re walking towards him, your head still a bit cloudy from the substances in your bloodstream. He looks up once you get close to him, signature smirk growing on his lips as he glances up at you.

“Look what we have here.” He leans back, “a lost bunny.”

“Hi, Harry.” You say simply.

His smile turns a bit softer. “Where are your bandmates?”

“Celebrating.” You shrug.

“Shouldn’t you be as well?”

“I am.” You hold up the mostly empty red cup.

He chuckles. “I see, having fun by yourself then?”

You focus on a spot beyond his head, suddenly feeling timid under his gaze. “Seems like it.”

“Want to join my private party here?” He shifts to his side, patting the spot next to him. “S’very exclusive, as you can see.”

“Well, I’m honored to be invited, then.” You sit down on the space he made for you.

For a moment, there’s a silence between the two of you, the only sound being the jarring cover of Everybody Wants to Rule The World. The notes of it are so off that you can’t help but huff a relieved breath when it comes to an end, enjoying the few seconds of silence before they begin another song.

A small groan leaves your lips when the noise starts again, catching Harry’s attention as you feel his eyes land on the side of your face. “It should be illegal to ruin great songs like this.” You shake your head to yourself, speaking your thoughts out loud in a rush of confidence. “They should get arrested for it.”

He chuckles. “You’re not wrong.”

Your eyes dart at him, meeting his. It’s hard to miss the way his irises glimmer under the moonlight. When he glances down at the lighter still in his hands you take the opportunity to really have a look at him. The proximity makes you aware of a small constellation of freckles kissing his nose, and the stubble starting to poke out the skin along his jawline. You want to blame the haziness in your mind for the thoughts of how it would feel like to have it scratching against your skin. Or how it would feel under your lips as you nibble your way all the way to his rosy lips. You want to push these away, belittle them as nothing but drunken thoughts. But you know very well it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve let yourself be entertained by them.

A pitched scream takes you out of your head. You realize there’s been a beat of silence since he’s spoken, so you clear your throat, a warmth creeping up on your neck as if he’d been able to hear your thoughts. “Do you know them?”

He shakes his head slightly. “Not really, no. They played in the pub once, Ronnie hated them.” He glances at you, corner of his lips itching upwards. “Call themselves Crystal Illusion, so there’s that.”

“Christ.” You can’t help but roll your eyes. “And here I thought it couldn’t get any worse.”

The sound of his giggle makes you look back at him, catching the sight of his dimples carving deep on his cheeks. “You’re really something, aren’t you, bunny?”

“Why do you call me that?” The question rolls of your tongue before you can even think about it. His brows raise at your question, and you decide to enjoy the rush of confidence and pick on it further. “Dunno if I’m supposed to feel offended or charmed.”

“Don’t mean it as a tease, can tell that much.” He smiles, shrugging slightly. “You just remind me of a bunny.”

The words pique your curiosity. “How so?”

He looks back down to his lap, and if it wasn’t for the poor lighting you would be sure of the blush taking over his cheeks. “Just all cute -- could tell you were a bit reserved, and like, curious. Had your eyes wandering all around when I first saw you.” He moves his head around lightly as if to explain his point and you have to bite back a smile. “And when you were focused you’d scrunch your nose a bit. Like a bunny.”

“I’m glad you didn’t say I have big ears.” You try to humor, searching for his eyes.

He laughs, looking up at you. “I mean, now that you’ve mentioned it…”

Your gasp shifts into a giggle as you push him away playfully. “Well, if I’m a bunny...” You pause, racking your mind to think of an analogy for him, but your mind is still a bit slowed down, your thoughts taking a beat too long to catch up to your words. When you glance down to the arm that’s brushing against yours, you notice the tattoo peaking on his skin. You reach for it without thinking about it, fingers tracing the ink as you take in the drawing, his eyes follow your touch curiously. “Then you’re an eagle.” You cringe to yourself as soon as the words come out of your mouth, attempting to mask it as you breathe out a laugh.

He arches his brows, lips fluttering, trying to hold back a smile. “You think I’ll kill you?”

“Oh shit, you’re right.” You cover your face with your hand, shaking your head at yourself. “Didn’t think that one through.” Your laughs meld together for a moment, slowly dying off and giving space a comfortable silence. The only sounds being the nightly hum of cicadas and the whisper of the breeze against the branches of the trees, that and, well, the faint screams of instruments from inside the house. Looking up at him, a breath hitches when you realize the proximity of his eyes to yours. You try to tease him but when you speak your voice comes out lower than you expected, almost in a whisper, “so you think I’m cute?”

“Course I do.” He says in a blink. “Don’t think that’s much of a secret, love.”

You chew on your bottom lip, not missing the way his eyes dart down on your face. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Yeah?” He smirks, wiggling his eyebrow teasingly. “Think I’m pretty?”

“I won’t inflate your ego if that’s what you want.”

“I tried.” He breathes out a laugh, eyes moving back down on your face but this time he doesn’t rush them back to yours, not hiding the intent of his gaze. For the first time, you’re glad for the background noise, afraid that if it wasn’t for it he’d be able to hear the thumping of your heart.“Can I kiss you?”

“Huh?” You blink at him, not because you didn’t hear him, but because you’re a bit taken back at the forwardness of the question.

He moves his arm to rest on the back of the bench, turning his hand to play with the tips of your hair. “Can I kiss you, bunny?” He repeats.

You nod before you can find it in you to voice your answer, clearing your throat, “yes.”

The hand that’s not in your hair moves to caress your cheek, he takes a moment to look at you, thumb rubbing your cheek gently before he leans in. Your eyes flutter close instinctively, holding your breath in anticipation as you feel his lips on the corner of your mouth. He keeps them there for a beat before pulling back, tilting your face a little just to finally close the space between your mouths.

The kiss starts slow. Uncertain, even. His lips are soft against yours, warm breath hitting your cupid bow as he sucks in your bottom lip gently. You feel his hand cupping your jaw, sneaking behind your neck as he pulls you closer and you all but melt under his touch. Being this close you can smell the scent of his cologne mixed with the smoke of cigarettes, and something about it is so sensual you can’t help but grip on his shirt as to have something to hold on to.

You can feel yourself getting lost on his touch, shamelessly scooping to the side as you enlace your thighs for the sake of being closer to him. His hand falls on your knee, rubbing it as your tongue line on his bottom lip.

It’s the sound of the door that leads to the house sliding open that falls like a bucket of ice water on your head, reminding you of your surroundings, and that you’re not, in fact, alone with him in the garden, which means any of your friends could easily spot you if they were to walk outside.

It’s almost like he reads your mind when you pull away from him, loosening your grasp on the material of his shirt. His lips don’t let you get far, trailing their way along your jaw until he can bite on your lobe. “Relax, petal” He whispers, pulling back to look at you as your noses brush together. “They won’t see us, even if they do they’re probably too stoned to even care.”

You let out a weak chuckle, gazing at the door where a group of people stumble their way towards the bus, voices loud as they slur incoherent words. It’s hard to see inside the house as most of the lights inside seem to be turned off, but you can tell how packed it is, bodies pressed so close together it makes you wince slightly just with the thought of being amongst them. Looking back at him, you ponder for a second before nodding. “You’re right.”

A grin paints on his face before he leans in, closing the space between you once again.

❁ ❁ ❁

“Still with us?” A call of your name on the mic snaps you out of your thoughts.

Looking up, you’re met with your bandmates curious eyes staring right at you and you realize you’ve probably been too lost in your own head to pay attention to the conversation in hand. Your lips part for a split second, trying to think of an answer that doesn’t give away your lack of focus but a single look at Abbey’s arched brows and you know you’ve been caught.

You clear your throat, lips tugging on a guilty smile. “Sorry, I am now.”

It’s hard not to let your eyes glimpse to the back of the room, where the sole reason for your distraction sits quietly on his regular spot, tucked behind his journal and doing his own thing. But you hold back the stare, knowing your moves were being watched by your friend who’s back to talking about the setlist changes for the night, and who would not be happy in the slightest to notice your wandering eyes falling on the one person she despises the most. You wonder how she’d react if she got her hands on the piece of paper burning through the back pocket of your denim shorts.

The message was short and simple, but the connotation behind it carried a much stronger meaning to it.

Meet me in the back before the gig, want to see you. -H

You found it tucked inside your case, lying innocently on top of your bass, apparent enough so anyone who’d opened the case could’ve found it before you. Surely, no one else did, otherwise, you wouldn’t hear the end of it from the minute you’d stepped into the place. Which makes you wonder how he managed to slip in the note sneakily enough without anyone noticing it, but the curiosity is well dulled in your mind by the pounding of your heart.

To your dismay, however, you barely got a look at him throughout the rehearsal. You got to The Blue Bird later than you’d intended to, the tutoring session you had on the day ended up running later than you’d expected. So by the time you stepped through the string curtains of the pub Harry was already tucked on the shadowy corner and everyone else was hanging by the stage waiting for you, barely giving you a second to set your bag in the dressing room.

So it’s hard for you not to stare when he gets up from his seat, walking into the lighter space of the bar with his signature smirk painted on his face. You’d just gone through the last song of your set for the second time -- an amplified version of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun (Lena insisting on repeating it after messing up on the first try). He’s holding a maroon leather jacket on his arm, along with his journal, leaving his arms bare under his Bowie tank top -- which, as he approaches the stage you notice the uneven hem on the sleeves, suggesting he might’ve cut them off himself. His hair is running wild as usual, the fringe curling against his forehead and you chew on your lip at the thought of running your hands through it as you did not even a week ago.

He reaches to the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a pack of cigarettes as he reaches the end of the stage. “That was a great one, everybody, maybe if you keep it going we can get you a spot on that wacky show they’re premiering.” He sets the stuff he’s carrying on the stage floor, crossing his arms on top of it. “What’s it called again? ‘S like ‘gag me with a spoon’ or something like that.”

“We wouldn’t want to steal your spot again.” The words leave your lips before you can process them, for a moment forgetting you’re not alone with him so your playful tease can be easily interpreted as mocking.

He rests the things he’s carrying on his arm on the stage floor, hoisting himself up almost effortlessly before picking them up again, walking the few steps it takes for him to stand in front of you. His lips are tugged on a shit-eating grin. “Got another feisty one in here, huh?” He crosses his arms under his chest, and you can’t help but note the way his muscles flex at the gesture, his tattoos dancing slightly on his skin. “What makes you so smug about stealing my spot? Reckon Ronnie only said he needed more chicks hanging around.”

“If that’s the case then there’s no need for you to be intimidated by a band of chicks, then.” You keep your eyes trained on his, but you can notice Abbey’s getting wider from over his shoulder.

His lips twitch up, and you can tell he’s holding back a genuine smile as not to crack your act. “Am I intimidated now, bunny?”

“It’s what it looks like.” You shrug, now holding back your own smile.

“Maybe you need to take a better look at things then, angel.” He starts walking backwards in the direction of the backstage. “Wouldn’t want any more misunderstandings, would we?”

“Don’t think we would.”

And with that, he turns around, walking the rest of the way out and disappearing as he rounds the corner to where you know it’s the door leading to the back alleyway. You just stand there quietly for a moment, following his steps as you try to recollect what just happened. For the two of you, it was clear that the tension was the product of an unspoken want circling around, but you question for a second if that’s the impression that your friends had. And as you look at their expressions, raised brows and mouths agape, it’s hard to tell.

“Holy shit, babe.” Abbey is the first to speak out. “Didn’t know you had that in you.”

You hold back a relieved exhale, shrugging slightly as you remove the strap of the bass from your shoulder. “He was just getting on my nerves.” You face away from her, placing the instrument on the stand.

The anticipation of meeting Harry grows impatiently on your stomach as you try to find a gap where no one’s attention is on you to sneak out of the dressing room. It seems as if every time you think you can do it, someone pulls you in, either to try to push you another pill of something you’re not sure what it is or to ask you to help with their makeup. But as the room gets filled and people get higher, their focus become more diffuse, and finally, after finishing assisting Jaz with her eyeliner (her hands were too shaky to get it right) you manage to slip out the room into the corridor.

There’s a sense of recognition that takes over your body when you feel the wind messing with your hair as you step out the building to be met with Harry’s figure leaning back on the wall, not too far from the spot you found him the last time you’d been in this same position. His eyes shoot in your direction as soon as you step through the door as if he’d been waiting for this just as eagerly as you were. He quickly throws the butt of the cigarette on the floor, stepping on it before standing tall as you slowly approach him.

“Hi.” You say simply, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shorts -- not knowing with to do with your hands.

“Hi.” His grin grows. “Came back here to intimidate me?” He teases, biting on his bottom lip.

“Actually,” you scrunch your lips, deciding to play his game as you reach on your back pocket, retrieving the small piece of paper and holding it up. “Got this very desperate note from a secret admirer but I don’t see any hotties here.” You click your tongue, looking around as you let out a loud sigh. “Guess it might be just a misunderstanding.”

He laughs, hands reaching for your waist to draw you closer. “That’s too bad, guess you’re stuck with me”

“Yeah?” You wrap your arms around his shoulders, stepping closer so that your chests meet and his forehead falls against yours.

He nods in response, your noses brushing gently before he leans to meet your mouth with his own.

❁ ❁ ❁

There’s a thrilling feeling that settles deep within you when it comes to holding a secret.

It’s that spark of excitement that brings a kaleidoscope of butterflies to come alive on your stomach. The kind of feeling that makes every cell of your body feel not just simply alive but as if it’s burning with joy. Which is why you guess falling into a routine of sneaking around with Harry on secret little rendezvous was so easy, to begin with.

Of course, your friends’ opinions are important to you, but you know that you’re an adult very much capable of making your own decisions. That means sleeping with anyone you’d like despite their ill opinions about the person, without having to sneak around as if you’re teenagers hiding from your parents. You know that, and you try to remind yourself of that every time you catch yourself lying to them about your whereabouts at every coming day.

In the beginning, you weren’t even sure that there was anything to it except for a couple of innocent kisses, maybe some not-so-innocent touches here and there, but nothing really worth even telling anyone. You’d only really see Harry on the weekends. When he would steal moments with you before your gigs when you “had to take a breather”. Or when mysteriously disappeared from your friends’ sides during after parties after they already had their minds buzzed and noses backed up. Or even when your night walks would tart becoming gradually longer due to your curiosity getting the best of you once you found yourself in front of the familiar Pub on Harry’s nights.

The weekends’ escapades took a different turn when they graduated to weekdays. Things took a quick turn then. It started with him offering you a ride to the houses for your tutoring or to the library (stealing kisses every now and then, of course). And before you knew, you were making up classes or books to rent for your oblivious roommates, only to spend hours on Harry’s car. Coming back with puffy lips and messy hair.

Part of you felt bad for going behind their backs, every now and then feeling an urge to pull Lena aside and gush about him for as long as your heart desired.

But it’s the thrill of it, of having something that’s just yours to have, that no one else knows except the two of you. The adrenaline that comes with the possibility of getting caught at any moment, but being able to get away with it. It’s almost addicting to you, so you prefer to have these moments just to yourself.

As the days went by, and those days turned into weeks, and those weeks turned into months, it just made it harder for you to tell them you’d been hiding a whole relationship for this amount of time. Well, not exactly a relationship, but as close as you ever got to one anyway.

And it’s not like you’d never had anyone before. Being in the music scene, you’ve had your quite a few amounts of flings — even though not as many as it’s expected. But no one has ever left you as enamored as him, especially not as quickly as he has. He’s intriguing, carrying around that mysterious aura around him that leaves everyone wondering the secrets he holds in his heart.

Although when it’s just the two of you it’s like this cocky persona of him completely dissolves. It’s a complete contrast from the image he carries around the restless mouths of prying people. He’s not that enigmatic heartbreaker who hops around strangers beds as if to live that classic Rock ‘n Roll lifestyle you see on TV. Rather, he’s shown himself to be the most caring man you’ve ever been with.

And that’s how you found yourself in this position, your body awkwardly positioned on your side in the rear seat of his car. A hand tangled on his hair while the other pulls at his Bowie shirt, you know your lips are probably starting to get swollen and his are taking a raspberry tone from the way they’d been sucking at one another. So with that in mind, you part from his mouth, trailing kisses along his cheek, and a final one at his nose before sitting back on the seat.

Just as you predicted his rose-colored lips are plump as he grins back at you, his locks are wild on top of his head. His hair has grown around his jawline now, curls poking out in all directions and you can’t help but reach your hand to pull his fringe back from his forehead. His smile growing fondly and eyes fluttering shut as you run your hand through his strands.

When you pull away you catch a glimpse of your wrist clock, cringing slightly at yourself as you realize you should start thinking of heading home.

“I have to go soon.” You let your hand fall to your lap with a sigh.

“Already?” He pouts. “Barely had any time together.”

“We’ve been here for two hours, silly.” You giggle at his dramatics, leaning to press your lips on his chin.

He throws an arm over your shoulder, keeping you close. “Exactly, barely any time.”

He turns his head to connect your mouths once more before pulling you against him so your head rests on his shoulder. You look beyond the glass of the windshield to the nearly empty street -- saving from a few people walking back from what you assume is a day of work

He’s parked on the usual spot two blocks away from your house, and from this angle, you can see the front gate that leads to the entrance. The front seat of the coupe still folded forward as there was no reason to set it back to place considering the circumstance in which you were on the backseat. You had called home from the payphone in front of the library, letting Lena know you’d be home late to catch up with some studies -- another lie to your pile.

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between the two of you -- apart from the low voice of the radio Dj interrupting A-ha’s Take On Me in the background. If you move your head just right you can hear his speeding heartbeat, and if wasn’t for the faltering on his breathing you’d assume he was just as relaxed as you are. You move away from him, his arm falling around your waist, looking at his profile as he pokes at his jeans, a crease between his eyebrows.

You rest your cheek against the leather seat, grasping his chin with your fingers and gently moving his head so his gaze meets yours. “What’s on your mind, handsome?”

He breathes out a laugh, shrugging lightly as he brings his hand to scratch at the tip of his nose. “Nothing much.”

“But there’s something.” You insist, being able to tell he’s pondering over something.

“It’s just-- I just thought--” he pauses with a sigh. You play with the rings on his fingers, waiting patiently for him to express his thoughts, you can tell he’s a bit nervous which is an adorable change from his regular charming demeanor. “I wanted to maybe-- like, we could have a date.”

You straighten your posture, lips parting as you take in his words. “A date?”

“Yeah… A proper one, you know?” He shrugs, eyes darting back on yours. “If you want to, that is! Don’t wanna pressure you or anything.”

“I do, H.” You nod, chewing on your lip as you try to recollect your thoughts. It’s not as if you don’t want to go on a date with him, that couldn’t be further from the truth. But turning it into a formality just changes completely the scheme of things and, as much as you felt like this is an inevitable step to take at some point, you still feel protective to an extent of this secret you have between the two of you. So you can help but let your voice come a little apologetic, “it’s just--”

“I know.” His shoulders drop and you can’t help but feel a tug at your heart.

“Hey.” You caress his cheek. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay.” His lips perk up in a small smile, and you lean forward to give him a peck.

He’s still looking at you with puppy-like eyes and it does nothing to help the heaviness in your heart from turning him down. You lean again this time to spread kisses around his cheek as an attempt to pull a giggle out of him, but you only earn a light chuckle so you seat back tilting your head to look at him with a pluck of your lips. “C’mon where’s my smug rockstar gone?”

“He’s right here.” The shadow of his dimples appears on his cheeks. His voice comes out low and gentle, as if he’s still pondering over what you said earlier, “just toned him down a bit.”

You sigh, trying to rack your brain to another subject that can distract him from it. You catch sight of the slightly smudged end of his eyeliner, and your face lights up as you remember a request you’ve always wanted to bring it up. “Do you want to know something?” Biting back a cheeky grin, you cross your arms under your chin as he looks at you with raised eyebrows. “Should let me do your makeup, so you can be a proper rockstar.”

He lets out a laugh. “Do I need that, now?”

“Mhm, said it yourself, it’s part of the look.”

“Did I say that?” You nod, teeth still biting on your lip. He lets out a breath, contemplating the idea for a second before looking back at you. “Okay then.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Course, could never say no to you even if I tried.” He lets his hand fall on your thigh, rubbing it gently. “On one condition, though.” You arch your brows in question. “Come to my gig tomorrow.”

You face scrunches in confusion. “I always go to your gigs.”

“Yeah but I mean go earlier, like so we can hang out before and stuff.” His finger starts to draw circles on your knee. “So you can do my makeup, too, can go on stage looking all pretty.”

“As if you could ever look anything less than pretty.” You say before sitting back, thinking of his proposal. “You’re asking me to be there early…”

“What? D’you have plans already? Got a boyfriend I don’t know about?” And there it is, the teasing Harry you know.

You shake your head, poking his side playfully. “Oh yeah, maybe I should’ve mentioned him sooner.”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes before looking at you, his voice coming down to a pleading tone. “Come, please.”

Before the yes can roll off your tongue you remember that you wouldn’t be alone with him. “What about your band?”

He furrows his brows. “What about them?”

“Well, do they know?”

“They couldn’t care less about us, baby.” He sighs, head falling back on the seat as he moves his hand so it rests on your inner thigh, rubbing a spot in there. “Have no meaning hiding you.”

You can’t hold back the smile that grows on your lips, leaning to press a kiss to his mouth before letting professing in just above a whisper, “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

❁ ❁ ❁

“‘S poking my eye.”

“Shh, quiet.”

“You’re rubbing it too harsh.” Harry grabs your wrist, eyes fluttering open to stare up at you.

“I’m being gentle, you’re just not used to the feeling of the brush.” You argue, keeping a finger under his chin so his head is tilted upwards as you shuffle on his lap. “Now close your eyes, I’m almost done.”

He lets out a huff, trying to feign annoyance, but the slight twitch of his lips and the subtle appearance of his dimples break his facade. You know as much as he won’t admit to it, he’s quite enjoying having you propped on his lap, fingers stroking gently his eyelids while you hum along to The Cure’s record that’s mixing with the murmurs of the other people in the room.

To your surprise, you’ve come to realize that the dressing room is significantly less chaotic when it comes to Harry’s band. The place is not nearly as packed as it can get during your nights, in fact, apart from the band itself, there’s only a handful of people hanging around. And as much as you notice their bloated pupils and stumbled walks, they mostly keep it to themselves, sharing around a bottle of vodka to wash down their pills.

Like Harry had assured you, his bandmates couldn’t be less bothered by your presence amongst them. And as much as you recognize all from the numerous gig you’ve been in before, and that according to them your name has been frequently mentioned by Harry himself (which did make his cheeks turn into an adorable shade of red), it’s nice to be formally introduced to them. In fact, they were so quick to treat you as one of their own that you could feel a slightly guilty feeling expanding on your chest from the number of times you’d heard your friends bad mouthing them in attempts to joke around.

You swallowed the feeling back, though, accepting a plastic cup they poured with champagne (which you learned is a tradition before gigs) and making a conversation.

“Are you done yet?” You feel the vibration of his voice on that back of your fingers that touch against his throat.

“Yes,” you say with a final stroke of your brush on his eyes, sitting back to admire your work with your teeth carved on your bottom lip. “You can open your eyes, baby.”

He blinks his eyes open and you can’t help the smile that breaks through your lips as you examine the contrast of the burning red eyeshadow with his jade irises as he looks back at you. “How do I look?”

You grab his cheeks, leaning down to press a quick peck on his lips. “Like a proper rockstar.”

“Yeah?” He grins once you let your hands caress on the smooth skin of his chest poking through his unbuttoned blue blouse. “Think I can finally get some groupies now?”

Scoffing, you swing your hand to shove him back playfully with a roll of your eyes. You try to move away but he grabs hold of your wrists, pulling you in again. “You’re insufferable.”

“Just how you like it.” His hands fall to your waist, bringing it closer as you let your arms wrap around his shoulders.

His lips meet your on a slow kiss, allowing you to taste the strawberry flavor of the lipstick you’d applied earlier, the thought of messing it completely lost in your mind as you tilt your head to deepen it even more. His fingers now grip on your hips over your denim skirt that has ridden up considerably since you first propped yourself on his lap. For a moment you just stay like this, tangled on each other’s arms, every so often you scratch on his neck, pulling his hair just a bit so you can swallow the most delicious mewls.

He parts from you as slowly as the kiss started, pecking on your lips a couple of times before letting his head fall back, hands moving to rub at your thighs over your pink tights. His eyes are hooded as he looks up at you with a smirk, voice coming low as if he’s sharing a secret just between the two of you, “can we go to the back?”

“Sure.” You unstranddle him, adjusting your skirt as you stand up and offering your hands to help him to his feet. He takes them, almost bringing you back down on the couch as he pulls a little bit too hard.

Once he’s up he takes a look at himself on the mirror in the wall opposite to the couch, a pleased smile on his face letting you know he likes the result of your work. He reaches for your hand then, guiding you into the hallway and out the back door you’ve become so familiar with.

Walking into the alleyway, he walks to his usual spot, leaning back on the wall and pulling you with him. His hands easily find their place on your waist once again, fingers tapping against the fabric of your skirt anxiously. Looking down at you, there’s anticipation on his eyes, as if he’s trying to tell you something but is waiting for you to bring it up.

“So,” he begins, eyes darting around as he parts his legs a bit, enough to fit you between them as he pulls you closer.

“So…” You say, drifting off as a way to encourage him to keep going.

“I’ve thought about the date thing.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his har. “Wasn’t I the one that was supposed to be doing that?”

He shrugs slightly, looking down to where his fingers fiddle with a loose strand of your vest. There’s something very endearing about seeing him so nervous, a complete opposite to how he carries himself in public, as this cocky and confident guy. You’re grateful that he allows you to see this side of him, though, bringing your hand to caress his jawline as you wait him to speak his thoughts. “Yeah, but I had like, an idea, or whatever.”

“Do tell.”

“I thought we could do--” he shakes his head a bit. “We could go to a place that’s still more reserved, and stuff.”

“Like?”

“I dunno, I--” he chews on his lip, a habit he’s starting to get from you. “Thought we could go to my flat and like hang out, we could go to that diner that has a drive tru and get something to eat and go back to my place.”

“Are you trying to take me home, Styles?” You tease, not being able to hold back a smile.

“It’s not like that, I just--” he huffs, cheeks getting a bit flushed as he tries to explain himself. “Just if you’re comfortable with it, of course, we can still go around on my car if you prefer, I don’t mind.”

“Harry?” You hold his cheek, moving it so his eyes can meet yours. Rubbing your thumb against his smooth skin, you try to soothe him, shooting him a fond smile. “I think that’s a really nice idea.”

“Yeah?” You don’t miss the way his eyes light up. “Is that a yes, then?”

“Of course.”

“Cool, I can, like, call you before I leave home so you can go to our spot and I can pick you up, yeah?” It’s the fastest he’s speaking since the moment you walked out of the building, voice a pitch higher. “How about Friday?

“Great.” You giggle, tangling your fingers on his hair to pull him down so his forehead rests against yours. Lips brushing, you blink up at him, jade eyes flickering around your face, “I can’t wait.”

He smiles. “Me too.”

❁ ❁ ❁

An annoyed puff leaves your lips as you notice another typo in one of the words inked in the paper poking out of the typewriter. You grab it maybe a bit too forcefully, this being the fourth time in a matter of minutes you had to do this. Taking it out of the platen, you reach for the whiteout conveniently prompted next to you, carefully correcting the error before putting the paper back on the machine.

With the end of the term peeking around the corner, you’ve been finding yourself in this position more often than not. Either rushing with your essays or grading assignments from your students. No matter what the arrangement is, however, there’s always a guarantee to have a half-empty mug of coffee and a pile of textbooks spattered on your desk.

This time around is no different, as you lean back on your chair, closing your eyes and rubbing your hands over your face, you try to focus on Cyndi Lauper singing in the background as a way to relieve your stress. You can feel the inkling of a headache deep inside your forehead, indicating maybe it’s time to give yourself a break, So, you try your best to relax the tension out of your muscles, breathing in the soft chamomile scent of the burning candle on your nightstand -- it’s one Lena gave to you to help with the stress a few days ago. What disturbs you from your moment of meditation with Time After Time, making you snap out of your breathing exercise, is the ringing tone of the telephone echoing through the house. The sound comes into your room a bit muffled thanks to your closed door, but it’s still enough to irritate you.

You hear closely to the sounds outside your door, waiting for Lena, who you know is propped on the couch downstairs watching TV, to pick up the call and cease the annoying tune interrupting your moment. And as you predict, in just a few minutes the ringing noise stops as quickly as it started, making you relax back on your chair. Closing your eyes again, you let yourself go back to the moment before the interruption, untensing your shoulders. You can hear the pound of heavy footsteps coming up the wooden staircase, but don’t process them getting closer until your door swings open.

Lena is standing in your doorway with an expression that’s hard to read at first, her brows set on a slight frown her hairline and mouth agape. Before you can tell her off for her sudden entrance she’s already speaking, “can you tell me why the fuck Harry Styles is calling our house looking for you?”

You can feel your heartbeat falter at her words, eyes widening as you glance at your bunny-shaped clock and realizing you had gotten so lost in your studies you forgot about the date. “Shit,” you get up so fast from your chair it falls back on the rug. You turn to Lena, who’s watching the scene with the most amused smirk on her face, “is he still one the line?”

As soon as she nods you’re stumbling down the stairs, almost falling down on the last steps but catching yourself up on the railing. You reach for the wired phone lying upwards on the hallway stand, picking it up and walking into the closest door - which happens to be the coat closet - closing it behind you.

“Hello?” You sound out of breath, heartbeat roaring in your ear.

“Did I fuck it up?” His voice is hesitant, nearly remorseful, it makes your heart drop.

“I-- no, you didn’t.” You reassure, leaning back on the wall of the tiny space, instantly regretting your decision of not choosing the restroom in your panic state. “I just got caught up with an essay and didn’t see the time passing.”

“Do you want to reschedule?” He drags out the words as if he doesn’t want to say them. “We can do this another day, I don’t mind.”

“No!” You protest quickly, reaching back to roughly adjust a hanger that’s poking on your neck, causing a raincoat to fall on your feet. “Of course not, I really need a break, anyway. I want to see you.”

“Want to see you, too.” You can hear the smile on his voice. “What about your friend?”

You sigh, rubbing your temple slightly. “I’ll talk to her, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.” He says. “I’ll be at yours in around fifteen, is that good?”

“That’s perfect, yes.”

“I’ll see you in a bit then…” He drifts off, as if he wants to say something else, but stops himself.

“See you.”

The familiar sound of the deadline takes place and you sigh, letting your head fall back on the wall with a thump and staying like that for a moment. When you step out of the closet, the first thing you see is Lena leaning against the railing of the stairs, shaking her head at you in disbelief. “You bitch.”

Your shoulders drop, not wanting to have this conversation right now, as you put the phone back on the base. “Can we not do this--”

“You’ve been fucking him all this time and you didn’t tell me?” She crosses her arms under her breasts. “Abbey is gonna throw a fit when she knows this.”

“You’re not gonna tell her.”

“I’m not.” She agrees with you. “But she already knows you’re sneaking out with someone.”

“She does?” Your voice gets higher, eyes widening slightly.

“She might be high as a kite most of the time, yes, but she’s not stupid.” She chuckles. “And you’re not the best at hiding either, or you thought we wouldn’t notice you’re barely at home anymore?”

You frown your mouth, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. “Does she suspect that it’s him?”

“Not really no, thought it was one of your students.”

You can’t help the horrified look that takes over your face. “I tutor children!”

“Ooh,” she breathes out a laugh. “Well, to be fair, he’s probably the last person she would suspect.”

“She’s gonna kill me.”

“Probably.” She shrugs. “But she’ll just have to get over it.”

“I guess.”

Lena looks at you, dropping her arms as she walks to you. Holding into your shoulders, her expression softens. “Don’t worry about this right now, okay? Go get ready for your date.”

“You’re right.” You sigh, nodding. It takes you a second, but as you process her words, you frown, squinting your eyes at her. “How do you know we have a date right now?”

Her hands drop, mouth scrunching as she waves her hands around. “I just guessed.”

“Were you listening on the line?’

“Of course not!” She steps away.

“Adeline!”

She backs away, reaching the bottom of the stairs with the guiltiest look you’ve ever seen splattered on her face. “It was just a bit of it! I was curious!”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I’m gonna cut the cord of that phone in your room.”

“No, you’re not.”

Raising your eyebrows in challenge, you take a careful step in her direction, causing her to go up another step. There’s a beat of silence where you two just stare at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. When you finally give in, racing towards the staircase, she stumbles up the rest of the steps, the sound of your giggles mixing together taking over the space.

❁ ❁ ❁

There’s an instant sense of comfort when you see Harry’s lime green Ford parked on your usual spot, one that gives an extra pep to your walk, pushing all the stress you’ve been dwelling with to the back of your mind. And as you relax into the leather seat, windows down and radio up, you let yourself enjoy the anticipation of spending the rest of your day with him that settles deep in your stomach.

You’d always wondered what Harry’s apartment would look like, imagining his LP’s splattered across the place, along with loose papers filled with guitar riffs and song lyrics. Maybe a couple of plants here and there, from what he told you he had tried to take care of one or two before, but always ended up forgetting to water them on schedule. And there’s also a notion inside of you that two young men living together in an apartment are bound to live in somewhat of a nest, so you brace yourself for the piles of beer cans and video game wires tangling on the floor.

When he opens the front door for you, letting you walk in before him, it does surprise you to find a tidier place than you’d expected his living room to be, but you realize you’d not been much far off with your assumption. It’s clear this is a house of musicians from the second you step in, the first sight being two guitars leaning on the wall next to the mud green couch, surrounded by - you guessed it - loose papers, which you assume are filled with scribbled ideas. A wall piano also stands out across the room, a single ashtray standing on top of it next to two candles, where you assume comes the faint scent of vanilla comes from.

“Sorry about the mess,” Harry speaks out from behind you, shrugging out of his usual denim jacket and throwing it over the couch arm, looking back at you with his hands on his hips.

“It’s alright.” Your teeth sink on your bottom lip as you take in the sight of him. Without his jacket, he’s left with just a wine-colored half-buttoned blouse, sleeves rolled up to his elbows so some of his tattoos are exposed. Part of the hem is tucked inside his low waist jeans that hug his thighs so perfectly it makes you want to grip your nails on it. Shaking your head, lightly, you let your eyes wander around the room once more, so he doesn’t notice you gawking at him. “Was expecting worse, to be honest.”

“Do you think that little of me?” He feigns offense.

You giggle, taking a lazy step towards him, shrugging. “I just don’t expect two young men to know the basic of cleaning, that’s all.”

“That’s fair,” he chuckles, taking a moment to just look at you. When a silence settles between the two of you, you raise your brows at him, waiting for him to make the first move. He clears his throat, running his hand through his hair. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Sure!” You nod. “Do you have, like, beer or…”

“Yes, yes I--” he stops, face lighting up in realization. “No wait, I have something better.” He strides towards a door to where you assume the kitchen is, calling over his shoulder, “make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back!”

You laugh to yourself, shaking your head as you pull your purse off your shoulder, letting it rest beside Harry’s jacket on the couch. Glancing over your shoulder, there are no signs of him coming back, so you take the opportunity to snoop around the area.

There’s a small center table in front of the couch, probably the messiest part of the room so far, a few movie magazines splattered around with another ashtray lying on top of it, a few butts of cigarettes long forgotten along with their ashes. Next to it, is a VHS cover of </i> Ghostbusters, a rental receipt paper scrambled on top of it. What calls your attention is a couple of cassette tapes, some with titles you recognize from being Harry’s songs scribbled on top of them but others don’t have a label, which leads you to assume they must be blank.

You walk around the table, gazing to the tv stand, where a poster of Freud is stuck on the wall behind it -- and breathing out a laugh as you notice someone had drawn glasses and colored his beard with a red sharpie. A bookshelf stands next to it, completely filled with records (apart from a single succulent that has a piece of paper with the name “Ziggy” glued to it). Your curiosity gets the best of you, picking up some LPs on random and what does surprise you, is the lack of a common theme between them. Finding a bit of everything, from some very recognizable names you’ve seen Harry rock to, like Billy Joel and The Clash, to some you’d never even heard him speak of like Culture Club and even a brand new Madonna record.

You have just picked up the cover of Ladies of the Canyon when his voice startles you from behind. “Mitchell, huh?”

Turning back with the record still in hands, you look down at it. “I love her.” You glance up, taking notice of the glasses in his hand, filled with a liquid of a yellow so bright it reminds you of a highlighter. “What’s this?”

“This,” he hands you a glass. “Is a drink we made.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “You made this?”

“I’m a man of many talents, bunny.”

“It looks like poison.” You bring the glass up to your nostrils, taking in the strong scent of alcohol. “Am I going to be poisoned? Is this a big plan to get rid of your rival’s bassist?”

“Stop being silly.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s mainly pineapple and vodka, takes weeks to be done, proper fancy stuff, you know?”

“Oh yeah super fancy.” You tease, chewing on your bottom lip to hold back a smile.“Pineapple and vodka.”

“Shut up and drink it.” He says, watching you carefully as you slowly bring the brim of the glass to your lips, taking a small sip of it. An instant sweet taste of pineapple invading your tastebuds, but the vodka is so present it makes you scrunch your nose. Harry gives you a small smile, eyes trained on you as he waits for your verdict, “so…”

“It’s strong.” Your face is still a bit rumpled from the alcohol, but you relax it eventually taking another sip of it, this time quite more prepared for it. “But it’s good, tastes like pineapple and vodka, who would say?”

“Shut up.” He chuckles, taking a step back and propping himself down on the couch.

With the record still in hands, you turn to put it back where you found it, admiring the full bookshelf once more. “Got a nice collection here, Styles, I gotta admit.”

He sips on his drink. “Found something you fancy in there?”

“A couple.”

“Put on something you like.” He motions to the record player standing next to the shelf. You look through the vast collection again, picking some at random and putting it back once you realize it’s not what you’re looking for. After going through a few, you finally stumble upon Elton John’ Madman Across The Water, holding it up to show it to Harry. “Oh, so we’re in one of those moods?”

You pull the vinyl from the sleeve, carefully placing it on the player and adjusting the needle over it. As the beginning note of Tiny Dancer float through the room, you look back at him. “What mood?”

“Like, a happy-sad kind of mood.”

You nod, setting yourself on the couch next to him. “That’s a nice way to put it.”

As the first few songs swim in the air around there’s a light chatter that settles between the two of you. Nothing out of your ordinary conversations, mainly consisting of you gushing over John Taylor as Harry rolls his eyes and sips on his drink to mask the drop of jealousy that grows on his chest -- “He’s not that good looking, you lot should have better standards” he said with a huff, making you giggle at his antics and pinch his cheeks. But it doesn’t take long, barely going halfway through the record, until the two of you begin to feel more lightheaded, eyes glossy and tongues getting looser. You should’ve expected that from the very first sip of the drink in your hand, knowing it wouldn’t take much more than a glass of it to get you right boozed up. And it doesn’t help that which each sip of it the sweetness of the pineapple takes over the strong taste of the alcohol, and in a matter of a few songs, you already feel your mind soaring away.

Harry is not much different, you realize, becoming quite a bit of a giggly drunk as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes and slurred words coming out of his mouth (which only makes him laugh more at himself). From what he told you, it hasn’t been the first time he and Mitch attempted on making the drink themselves. They tried it at a cramped bar right outside a Tears For Fears concert and it had gotten them so knackered so quickly they went back the next day to ask the barman (who also happened to be the owner) what was it in. Turns out it was just watermelon and vodka, but the man also explained that the technique he used that took about two weeks for the drink to be ready. From the man’s explanation, it seemed simple enough so they decided to try it for themselves, except they replaced the watermelon with pineapple.

“Just to add a bit of fun to it.” He shimmies his body.

“Is it like the original, though?”

“‘S close, but not quite his.” He hiccups. “I’m convinced he left out some of the details, the bastard, didn’t want to go around giving out the secret formula of it.”

You giggle, biting into the brim of your glass. “I’m curious to try it with watermelon, now that you’ve mentioned.”

“You have to, bunny!” His head falls back on the couch, dimples so deep you want to bite into them, his hand strokes lazily on your thigh, every now and then moving up to rub at the hem of your playsuit. “I’ll take you there sometime, we can get baked and crash into a concert at the music house that’s right in front of it.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

When the blue of the sky outside begins to fade into a golden glow, ribbons of pink and orange cutting through it, you’re already completely far gone. The record player is now only letting out a faint buzz from the lack of sound now that the LP is over. Your head is filled with clouds and you don’t register when Harry reaches back for the guitar, only really registering it once he’s stringing out a familiar melody. He stumbles with the lyrics but as soon as you recognize the beginning line of </i> Big Yellow Taxi you’re joining him, your voices tangling in a high pitch as you more of scream the lines than really bother to sing it. Harry gets completely lost in it, and you let him take over every so often just to watch him, mimicking Joni Mitchell's voice and even enacting her laugh, which makes you laugh until your belly hurts and your cheeks get flushed.

It’s one of those moments you want to get locked in, to live in it forever. Watching him stumbling the lyrics of different songs, the words tumbling out of his mouth between giggles, fingers stroking the cord of the guitar maybe a bit too harshly as you join him without a care in the world to who may be bothered by it. You feel so free with him, it’s a feeling that takes over your whole body, a warmth of knowing you don’t have to filter yourself or fit any type of expectation. And as he ends another cover with violent strokes on the guitar you laugh along with him for a moment before letting the room quiet down. Crossing your arms over the back of the couch and resting your cheek against it, you just look at him.

His bloodshot green meets yours, his chest rising as he catches his breath from the frantic songs, teeth sinking on his bottom lip as he smiles at you. “Gonna slow down a bit fo’ you.”

You raise your brows at him, smiling in anticipation as he begins to smooth his fingers through the cords much more gently than he had been previously. His head moves along to the beat as he gazes down at the instrument, a slight crease forming between his eyebrows in concentration. It’s a complete contrast from the playful demeanor that had taken over the room just minutes ago.

“Love of my life, you’ve hurt me.” He begins, and your ears instantly perk up as you identify the same song you’d heard him play months ago at the pub, the one that made you enter it to watch him for the first time. “You’ve broken my heart and now you leave me.”

It’s much different now, however, not just from the fact that he’s singing it on his own without the band backing him up. But it’s the meaning behind it, the rawness of his voice, low and slightly raspy, the words still come out a bit mumbled but you couldn’t care less about it, only focusing on the emotion he puts to them.

“Love of my life, can’t you see?” His eyes are still set on the guitar and you search for them almost desperately, shifting closer to him and cupping his cheek, guiding him to meet your gaze. “Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me.”

The swell in your heart is overwhelming to an extent, his glossy eyes looking into your with such sincerity it makes you want to jump on him, but you hold back as he keeps going, feeling nearly hypnotized by his voice.

“Because you don’t know, what it means to me.” He leans into your touch, turning to press a quick kiss on your palm as he keeps stroking the chords in a quiet melody. “Love of my life, don’t leave me.”

You can’t help but shake your head slightly as he sings the lyric almost like a plea. “You’ve stolen my love, and now desert me.” He looks back down at the guitar, letting your hand fall to his shoulder. “Love of my life, can’t you see?”

“Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me.” Peeking under his lashes, he grins up at you, and you can only imagine how you must look to him. Mouth slightly agape, barely blinking as you’re scared if you do this will all turn out to be nothing but a dream. His voice comes out next a bit lower, stretching out the words, “Because you don’t knoow.”

He strokes the chords a bit mindlessly now, playing with the sound of the melody, and he does it so effortlessly you almost hold your breath as not to miss it. “What it means to me.”

When he stops, you don’t really think before latching yourself on him, throwing one leg on each side of his thighs, and cupping his face before meeting his mouth with yours. He immediately wraps an arm around your back, his other hand taking the guitar off his lap and blindly placing it against the wall next to the couch. Once the instrument is no longer a barrier, he places his hands on your hips, pulling you closer. You can taste the memory of a pineapple still lingering on his tongue as you lick into his mouth. The kiss is hungry, maybe a bit sloppy thanks to the substance still very much present in your bloodstreams, but you don’t mind, only moving a hand to tangle on his hair, scratching at his scalp before pulling at his roots.

A whimper escapes from his mouth, getting lost inside your throat, his grip on your thighs tightens, nails digging in it and you know will leave crescent shapes on your skin. It only makes you do it again, this time his head tilting backward with a small groan, disconnecting your lips, but you’re soon to connect it again, splattering kisses along his jawline until it meets his neck. When you suck on his pulse point, running your tongue over it, his skin vibrates on your lips as he lets out a whine. His hands are now running all over your thighs before resting on top of your ass, bringing your hips to grind against his.

Even with your hazed mind, it’s still hard to miss the very prominent bulge under his jeans. It makes you pull back, looking down to see it straining against his zipper. There’s a flip of a switch inside of you when you realize how much he’s yearning for it, it’s the desire you’ve been pushing back for months now, crashing into you like a wave and you can barely contain a small mewl at the sight.

“Bunny.” He breathes out. When you look back to him, you notice his eyes have darkened considerably. “We don’t have to--”

“Please.” You let your forehead fall against his, rolling your hips again, stealing another whimper from him. “If you want to, I want to.”

“I do -- fuck, I do.” He nods as you keep grinding on him, his hand disappearing on your back pocket, trying to get as closer to you as possible.

When you meet his lips again, the kiss is somehow eager than before. The longing is evident as you grab onto each other. Your hands travel down his chest, nails digging softly on his exposed skin, and once you feel the fabric of his shirt, you’re quickly to undo the rest of the buttons, not disconnecting from him as you do so. Smoothing your hands back up to his shoulders, you help him shrug off the material, letting it fall to the couch without paying mind to it.

“Wait,” he sneaks between kisses, hands coming up to your waist you push you off gently.

You watch with your brows narrowed as he gets up from the couch, walking to his shelf and standing in front of it, looking for something. Leaning to your side, you let yourself admire the muscles of his back as his fingers run through the edges of the records. It’s impressive how even though his collection takes over the whole furniture, he still seems to know exactly where to look for it, focusing on a small section right at the top. He quickly finds what he’s looking for, pulling it with a ‘Aha!’ before turning back to you.

He holds up a very familiar black cover, the imprint of Queen’s Greatest Hits instantly calling your attention. Doing the same as you’d done earlier, he takes out the disk, placing it on the player before adjusting the needle over it. You watch it with a smile teasing on your lips, finding oddly endearing how he made you pull away from him with the sole purpose of putting on a soundtrack -- making notice to put on something you’d like, as well. He cranks up the volume as the first words of Bohemian Rhapsody start to swallow your thoughts, turning back to you and offering his hand with a cheeky grin painted on his face.

Taking his hold, you let him pull you up from the couch and, before you can really register it, he’s guiding you through the hallway. You stumble on your footing as he rushes a bit to fast for you to really wrap your head around it, the walls of the corridor passing by almost in a blur as it takes your mind a beat too long to catch up with your eyes. Still, your giggles dance along with his all the way to his door at the end of it, making you feel like a couple of teens sneaking out for the first time.

He doesn’t give you a single minute to take notice of his room -- not that you would at this moment, your arousal pooling at your underwear only enhancing the haziness of your mind. In just a speck of a second, he’s already pushing the door closed, your body being pressed against it not long after. His arms find their place on each side of your head, his lips searching hungrily for yours as your fingers find their home between the strands of his hair once more.

“Shit, need you so bad, baby.” he presses his hips against yours, mouth hot as he sucks in the skin of your jaw, all the way down your neck, finding a spot that makes you whine under his touch. “That’s it, darling, let me hear you again.”

“Harry,” you mewl as his teeth sink on your skin gently, his tongue swiping quickly over the spot before he trails back to your cheek. You melt under his touch when his hands find their way back on your body, one of them caressing the side of your breast softly, thumb poking out to rub the spot where you nipple pebbles under your layers of clothing. This brings out a desperate whimper from your throat, your head falling back on the door as you close your eyes, trying to savor every slight touch of his. “Please.”

“Look so fucking pretty in this piece, bunny.” The sound of his voice is right below your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin making the hairs on your neck rise. “Look gorgeous in anythin”” he turns his head to bite at your earlobe. “But I really need it gone right now.”

Your eyes snapback open when you feel him pull back from you, his hands finding the front buttons of your playsuit, fiddling them open so easily you barely register it. His lips are back on yours, this time slower, letting his desire be known at every brush of his tongue. Smoothing his hands on your shoulders, he helps you out of the sleeves of the top. As soon as your back is disconnected from the wooden door, you start moving forward before you can really think about it, pushing him back gently until the back of his knees hit the mattress and he’s sitting back on the bed.

There’s hardly a speck of green left on his darkened irises when he looks up at you, watching your every move as you shift the material down your body, letting it pool on your feet before you kick it to the side. Taking a slow step towards him, his hands holding onto your hips almost unconsciously, you reach back to find the hook of your bra, but he stops you before you can even quite grasp it. “Wait,” he pulls you closer, making you fall a bit awkwardly on his lap, your hands moving to grip on his shoulder for support. “Let me.”

You adjust your position on top of him, your knees resting next to his thighs, as he handily unhooks your bra, removing it quickly from your arms and tossing it to the side. A gasp escapes your mouth as he wastes no time before attaching his mouth to your breast, tongue circling on your nipple before sucking in. His hand tries to give the same attention to the other one, grasping onto it as his thumb caresses the pebbled nub.

The crescendo of the song comes muffled in the background and it’s as if it’s echoing inside your head while you mindlessly roll your hips against his. The motion makes the lining of his zipper rub deliciously against your clit under the thin fabric of your underwear, and it reminds you of his hardening length pressing on his jeans. It seems to remind him as well, as his mouth parts from your chest in a groan, his lips licking at the space between your breast, kissing all the way back to your neck, where he hides his face with a strangled moan when you grind down a bit harder.

“Can’t take the tease, baby.” He pants. “Need you right fucking now.”

You pull back from him, gazing down at the tent on his pants and bringing your hands to fiddle with his belt. It takes you a bit longer to manage to pull it out, as his eager lips attack your neck once again. At this point, you can only imagine the marks he’s made on your skin, knowing the reddened spots will soon come to a purple shade, but it’s the least of your worries as you pop the button of his jeans, opening up the zipper.

“Stand up just for a sec, darling.” He taps on your hip and you do as he asks, stepping back to plant your feet on the floor.

He shifts out of his pants, bringing his briefs along with it and you watch the way his cock all but jumps out of its restrains, slapping back on his stomach. The tip is a reddened shade darker, a trace of precum already oozing out of it, dripping down his length and making you rub your thighs for some sort of relief as you feel your mouth watering. You want to reach for it, grasp it as you feel it throb on your palm. You want to trace the prominent veins adorning it with your tongue and discover all the sounds he makes when he’s all but begging for you to wrap you mouth around it already. But more than anything, and what speaks louder to you at the moment, is how you want to feel it deep in your belly, rubbing against your walls until your legs shake.

“My eyes are up here, love.” You look up at him, a smug grin on his face as he draws you in by your hips.

“Can’t help it.” You watch his fingers play with the waistband of your cherry colored underwear, meeting his eyes as you let yourself mess with him a bit. “Just have such a beautiful cock.”

“Christ.” He groans, yanking your panties down your leg, making your arousal drip down your thighs. His lips immediately trace on your pubic bone, hands travelling to grip on your ass as his teeth sink into your skin slowly. “Didn’t know you were this filthy, bunny.”

You enlace your fingers on his strands, pushing his fringe away from his forehead as you mount him again. “Only for you.”

“All for me? What did I do to deserve you?” He smiles, pecking your lips and pulling your closer so you can feel his cock poking at your stomach. “Why don’t you lie down for me?”

You shake your head, pushing his shoulders back gently until his back hits the mattress. “You lie down.”

“Shit, baby, gonna sit on my cock?” He shifts back just slightly, watching you sit back on his thigh as you grab his length, giving it an experimental pump that makes his breath audibly hitch. “Fuck-- such a good girl, aren’t ya?”

You chew on your bottom lip, flickering your palm over the tip and collecting a bit of the precum before rubbing it once more. He lets out a strangled moan, head tilting back on the mattress, his curls splattered around him like a halo. Which is an ironical contrast to what you’re doing to him.

His voice comes out in a breathy, chest moving frantically as he peeks down at you when you give him another slow pump. “Please, darling, don’t torture me right now, need you so bad.”

If it were another occasion you wouldn’t listen to him, simply continuing your teasing as if he hadn’t said anything at all. But right now you can feel your wetness pooling where you sit on his thigh as you all but throb for him at the sight of his angry cock in your hand. It’s just as much torture to you as it is to him to keep this going any longer, so you just shift up, gabbing his base and rubbing it along your folds one, two, three times, before finally aligning it with your entrance.

His nails dig on your thighs in anticipation, his eyes watching with barely a blink as you slowly sink down. Your mouth hangs open but nothing except a choked gasp comes out of it. There’s a delicious burn that comes with him slowly spreading you open for him, and when you fully sit down your eyes are teary and can’t help but clench around him, earning a full moan in response.

“So fucking tight.” He pants, chest moving up as he takes a sharp inhale when you clench again. “So wet too, baby, drenching me.”

“Fuck, Harry.” You lean forward, hands lying on each side of his torso as you pull up the tiniest bit just to sink down again.

You want to start slow, gradually fastening your pace but you can’t seem to hold yourself back. As his hands grasp on your hips you start to bounce on him at a hard pace, your moans meshing together as well as the faint vocals blasting outside the closed door. Rolling your hips on his, he hits spot that makes you sit on your heels again as you throw your head back, crying out his name.

It’s hard to keep focus as you mind is blurry from the pleasure that takes over every cell of your body as well as the alcohol still running freely on your bloodstream. All you can focus on right now is Harry. It’s his hands gripping on your skin, helping you fasten your pace. It’s the sound of his voice pitching on a needy whimper, telling you how good you feel around him. It’s the sight of his face creased in pleasure when you look down at him, the veins staining his neck and his locks sticking to his damp forehead, cheeks rosy and lips plump. He’s the only thing in your mind as you chant his name under your breath like a quiet prayer.

“Is my cock that good, bunny?” He meets your thrusts with his hips, making you sob out a moan. His lips tug on a smirk, “Look at you helping you helping yourself out on my cock -- fuck, look like a proper dream.”

There’s a familiar tightness in your stomach, one that makes your toes curl and your rhythm falters. “I’m almost there, shit.”

“Won’t last much longer too, baby, feel too good.” He groans holding your hips in place when you stumble on your pace again, deciding to thrust upwards, your pelvis meeting in loud smacks. “Gonna cum for me? Gonna let me see you looking all pretty when you cum all over my cock?”

“Harry, please.” You’re not even sure what you’re asking for, your eyes closing as you roll back your head. A trifling cramp is starting to set on the back of your thighs but you barely pay any mind to it as the bliss takes over your whole body. You’re so close to your high you can almost reach it, just needing a small push.

“C’mon, baby.” Harry urges you, hand reaching where you’re connected to rub at your clit harshly.

And that’s all you needed, opening your eyes as a couple tears fall down your face when you feel your orgasm taking over you body, the white ceiling feeling far away like an imagine you watch on the television. You’re not exactly sure when Killer Queen started playing, but as the waves of euphoria hit your body, you can hear the guitar solo ringing in your ears, the crescendo of the song only enhancing the thrill of your high as you ride your orgasm along with it.

You practically collapse down on his chest, his hot skin sticking to your body. He’s still panting under you, warm breath hitting your neck as he holds onto your ass, his thrusts coming sloppier as he comes right after you. The sensitivity of your center makes you whine along with his strangled moans when he holds his hips to yours,burying himself in you as he paints your walls white.

For a moment you just stay like this, cheek resting on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat slowing down by the minute blending with the music coming from outside the closed door. His fingertips trace patterns on your bare arm that’s hugging his torso and keeping him close. You can feel your mind getting clearer, not just from the alcohol but from the high of your orgasm. And as the sound of the soft wind knocks against the window glass, you’re almost lulled to sleep just like this.

Harry shifts slightly, you feel his lips pressing on your head before he carefully moves to sit up, letting you fall back on the bed gently. “Mind if I have a smoke, bunny?”

You give him a lazy smile, shaking your head as you look up at him, reaching for his locks that poke wildly on his head. Leaning down, he gives you a quick peck before getting up. Turning to your side, you watch as he looks around the room, finding his briefs thrown by the end of the bed and quickly putting them back on. He grabs the pack of cigarettes along with his lighter and heads towards the window.

Opening up the window, allowing the evening breeze to slip through the crack and dance around the room, he pulls a chair leaning on the wall to sit directly by it. The chair is stacked with colored cushions on top of it - one yellow, one red, and one blue - he throws two of them thoughtlessly on the floor next to it, adjusting the remaining one on his back as he leans down to sit on it. The stool is low enough so he can relax his feet on it comfortably, fingers fiddling with the lighter for a second before rising it to meet the end of the cigarette resting between his lips. Freddie Mercury still sings loudly in the living room, the sound coming a bit muffled thanks to the closed door, but making it as background noise as you come quiet to admire his figure against the last creeks of sunlight hitting the side of his profile.

You chew on your lip at the scene, wishing you could record it somehow and play it every night before falling asleep. There’s something inherently erotic about having him smoke a cigar just on his underwear, humming along to the tune of the song, right after having you scream his name into his pillow.

The light streak of wind coming from the window breaks you out of your thoughts, making goosebumps rise on your skin as you come to the realization that you’re still sitting naked in his bed. It doesn’t take long for you to find your panties hanging from the edge of the mattress, picking them up to quickly slide them up your legs before you get up to search for your other articles of clothing. You can see the colorful pattern of your playsuit lying next to the closed door, but as you crouch to pick it up something else catches your attention in the pile of clothes thrown around mindlessly on top of a wooden chest

It’s the pink shirt. The same one he wore on the day you first saw him play.

A grin takes over your face as you pick it up, throwing it over your shoulders and sliding your hand on the sleeves. It has the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering smell of cigarettes, something you’ve come to associate with him. You don’t bother to button up the material, letting it hug your body as you take a quick look at yourself in the full-body mirror leaning on the wall in front of you. You turn to him, his eyes still focused on the view outside, a thin coat of smoke leaving his lips and getting lost in the breeze, so you clear your throat as to get his attention.

He looks at you, eyes shamelessly scanning down your body and you’re afraid the cig will fall from his lips as they grow on a smug smirk.

“Look at you,” he lets his feet fall from the stool, fixing them on the floor as he motions for you to get close. You approach him without a second thought, climbing on his lap as his hands hold onto your hips. He takes another look at you, grasping the cigarette with his fingers and taking out of his lips. Reaching for your face, his thumb caresses the side of your eyelid gently. “Looking like a proper rockstar now, even got the smudged makeup.”

You giggle. “That’s more your fault than mine.”

“I guess it is.” He taps the butt of the cig on an ashtray prompted on the stool of the window, eyes still trained on you. “Should do it more often then, s’fucking hot.”

You smile at the connotation, picking at the hem of the shirt and gazing at him from under your lashes. “Guess I might be starting to like pink, that’s also your fault.”

“Look way too good in pink not to like it, bunny.”

“Stop that.” You hide your face on the crook of his shoulder.

“Telling the truth.” His free hand grips on your waist, pulling you closer as he tilts his head to kiss at your neck. “Looks good in everything.”

“Could tell you the same thing.” You pull back to look at him, teeth sinking on your bottom lip as you smooth your hands down his bare chest. “But I do prefer this fit on you, really brings out your eyes.”

“Naughty.”

You lean to connect your lips, hugging him close with your arms wrapped around his neck and enjoying the tender moment as you distribute kisses around his face just to hear him giggle. And when you bring your mouth to his again, you barely feel the softness of his lips before he all but jumps on his skin. You pull back, furrowing your brows, ready to question it but he beats you. “Forgot I got something for you.”

“For me?” You blink. “What is it?”

“Go sit on the bed while I fetch, will be just a minute.” He gives you a quick peck before you’re pulling away.

You do as he asks, sitting back on the bed, right next to the wrinkled spot where you lied just minutes ago. He walks across the room, opening the door where you came from and disappearing in the hallway. The record is still blasting through the apartment walls, sound coming louder now that there’s no barrier between you.

While he’s gone, you take a moment to look around his room, something you didn’t get a chance to do when you first came in tangled on his arms. It’s not much messier than the living room, really, only the small piles of clothes you’ve spotted earlier that give the illusion of an untidy room. There’s a light wooden dresser that sits next to the chest, and from where you sit you can see two candles standing alone on top of it, similar to the ones on the piano.

You swing your feet on the edge of the bed, letting them brush along a blue fluffy mat that hugs the floor underneath it. And as you run your hands on along his mattress, you notice the soft superficie, making you look down at a knitted blanket spreaded across the bed. It’s made of different colored squared stuck together in an oddly comforting pattern. You want to lie down on it, and let yourself be swallowed by the cozyness of the material against your skin, but before you can do so, Harry appears back in the room, closing the door behind him as he makes his way to you.

“This blanket is so nice.” You run your hands through it, smiling at him.

“Thanks, I knitted it.” The information makes your eyes bulge out, you open your mouth to inquire further but he’s already talking again. “This is-- uhm, I dunno, just something I thought you’d like it.”

The small box in his hand catches your attention as he hands it to you, his eyes looking down at it and even with just the moonlight illuminating the room you can see the blush on his cheeks. He props himself down on the spot next to you, watching your fingers turn the rectangular box around. It’s a cassette tape case, you quickly realize.

When you gaze at the back of it, there’s names of songs scribbled behind it. Not many, but a good collection of them, from Fleetwood Mac to The Bangles, and even Billy Joel. And it doesn’t take you long to find a pattern with the song chosen for the tape. Their all love songs. It makes your heart swell even more, if that’s even possible at this point.

“These are so cheesy,” you bite your lip, barely able to contain your smile.

He rolls his eyes. “They’re romantic, bunny.”

You keep examining the titles written neatly in his handwriting, raising your brows when you land on a specific one. “Every breath you take?” You tease, “That’s an interesting take on romance.”

“Shut up.” He giggles, eyes watching you carefully. “Do you like it?” His voice is adorably hesitant, it makes your heart stumble on a beat.

“I love it.” You say in just above a whisper, feeling the butterflies in your stomach get a little more vivid once your eyes land on the last song scribbled in the back of the tape. Somebody to Love. Brushing your thumb over the words softly, careful not to smudge the paint, you look up at him to find his green irises glistening at you. You shake your head almost in disbelief at the tenderness behind the gift. “Did you record this just for me?”

“Uhm yeah some of them I did but—” He looks down, focusing on his fingers as they pick a loose string from the blanket under his leg. “Some of them I just... Sang”

“You sang?” It takes you by surprise, how you thought there was no way he could make you feel warmer.

“Yeah… All of them, actually.” His dimples dig deep on his cheeks as he quickly peeks his eyes at you. “It’s just… The quality is shit when you record it from the radio and the dj keeps interrupting and stuff.” He shrugs, “Thought if I sang it could be more, personal? I guess.”

“I love it.” You repeat.

“You do?”

“I do.” You chew on your lip, watching his eyes glimmering on the dim light of the room. “Is there a reason for this sudden present?”

“Kind of I--” He clears his throat, fully glancing at you. There’s an expectation behind his eyes, you can tell from the way he takes a sharp inhale that he’s nervous. “Thought I make you-- ask you, actually, if you’d be mine?”

You can’t help but giggle at how adorable he looks, your eyes getting a bit glossy as you nod without a blink of a thought. “Of course I’m yours, Harry.”

“Yeah?” His smile grows. “As like, m’girlfriend?”

Throwing your arms around him, you press your lips against his cheek, careful not to drop the tape in your hand still. You pull back, tilting your head as giving him a fond smile. “As in your girlfriend, yes.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #80s!harry #harry styles writing

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natromanxoff · 3 years

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22 - Cars & Queenie Days

Hi there Queenie people.

What a strange little weekend this one turned out to be. Let me start by saying that most of my stories seem to have something to do with alcohol, but we were all a hell of a lot younger then, and I for one cannot do that anymore, well not all the time. Although a few days ago an old friend made a guest appearance, the Kurgen was let loose on the streets of Bondi which seemed to start a string of Queen type events. It all started about midday on Saturday when a friend of mine phoned and suggested lunch, what a fantastic idea as it was a lovely hot sunny day, so we met in a nice place with a garden and ordered the first bottle of wine, and it was the Linda Lovelace of vino, it went down very quickly and easily. During the course of the afternoon I phoned my mate Steve and said he should join us, which he did at about 8pm, and we finally moved indoors to have dinner, after sitting in the sun and guzzling wine for the last six hours, and needless to say I'm pissed so we ordered some more food and what turned out to be the last bottle of plonk for the evening.

Half way through dinner Rebecca decided she was to out of it to continue, and wisely went home, leaving the Kurgen and his mate, who has decided he's gonna catch up with me, what a good friend eh, but him getting drunk means me becoming a complete gibbering idiot. After dining we moved next door to the bar where the whisky was flowing very rapidly and the idiot telling one barmaid she looked like a cheap hooker, while swearing his undying love to another. Oh, get me another drink Steve, I think I need one. It finally gets to 1am and time to head home, it's been a long day, and while trying to negotiate the 10min walk I was complaining that my right leg wouldn't work, usual drunken crap.

What has this got to do with Queen I hear you ask, well, apart from the fact that a million years ago I worked for them for a while, not very much. Steve and myself eventually got back to my place and I got phoneitis and I had the need to speak with everyone from my dodgey past, so, phone book out and lets go. Pride of place went to Mr Deacon who was lucky to be speaking on the phone so the Kurgen, after two tries, couldn't get through. Time up for you pal, next. Broughie. He always calls me when he's legless, now it's his turn to try and decipher what I'm on about. When I got through to Trip I can remember saying, "Where the f*** are you?" And do you know what, I have no idea what the answer was, though he did say they cancelled a couple of shows, and everyone was having a great time. This is fun, lets spend some more money. The next call started with, "Mr Taylor, it's Mr Taylor here." Sorry Rog, but you did pick up the phone. I did tell him I'd listened to his new stuff on his website and it's the best stuff he'd done in years, and I have an awful feeling I said that I didn't like 'Happiness,' but he did say that he reads my memoirs, so if you get to see this Mr T. I'll try and be a bit more sober next time I call.

Jacky followed, phone was busy (No it wasn't, we were out, you left a message!!) , gotta move on, I'm on a roll now. A new game, lets try and track down my ex in LA, no luck, thank god, and with that my new accountant Steve took the phone away from me, thanks dear boy. He clears off around 3 and I hit the sack and descend into a coma. Ring ring.....ring ring. Its 9am, who the f*** is phoning in the middle of the night, so, with head pounding I track the phone down and had to raise a bit of a giggle, it's Broughie and now he's pissed and he told me that in nearly twenty years of knowing me, that is the worst he's ever heard me try and talk, to which I reply that this is the worst I've ever felt.

Spandau's Tony Hadley was the next person I speak to, what a diamond geezer, always nice to chat with him. Sunday was a non-existent day with a phone that had no sympathy for me and kept ringing, amazingly it's still in one piece. A wet Monday and I'm still feeling a bit iffy, but come afternoon I receive a package in the post, I like little surprises, so when I walk in and turn the radio on Bo Rap is playing, and when I open my pressie it's from the ever gorgeous Jacky who has very kindly sent me RT's Electric Fire. You know what I mean, his new CD not the electric fire out of his bedroom. I'm glad I told him it was great, cause it is, in my humble opinion, possibly the best thing he's done. That was a hell of a lot of words just to say " go and buy Electric fire and put it in the charts, you won't be disappointed".

I was chatting with Greg Fryer, the fireplace restorer, and we're both looking forward to the Australian convention in a few weeks, although I might be drinking lemonade as I made the idiot promise that "I'm never drinking again". Some time ago somebody asked me a question which went something like, "When you were in the studio with just Roger or the Cross, was it a bit of an anti climax after working with Queen as they were such brilliant musicians." I don't know if I'm missing something here, but as Roger was a solo artist, a member of the Cross and also in Queen, surely that must make him brilliant. Well, whatever your name was, no it wasn't boring it was mostly fun. When he was producing other acts I must admit that I did a lot of sitting around doing bugger all, and I every act were ok as people, though once Jimmy Nail had a hit he did get a rather large ego and changed into a real prat.

Virginia Wolf had two old buddies of mine in the band, Joe Burt and Jason Bonham, so when we went to Ibiza to record it was party time from start to finish, though Jason did go overboard a bit, so to protect us more than him we sent him back to England. I was only involved in one Cross album, Shove It, and that was just going to be another RT solo album so he played all the instruments himself.

I think I've mentioned before that we drove the Bentley to Montreux, well this was the time. The plan was to spend three or four days in Montreux recording then go to Gstaad to write some more songs. That was the excuse because we had a huge chalet there and the idea was to do a lot of skiing and a bit of writing, which is exactly what we did. It was in Gstaad that Roger came up with the idea of forming a band, and after a hard day on the slopes we would sit around at night working out a plan on putting a band together. On the subject of Bentleys and Gstaad I feel obliged to tell you just how much bad luck RT has with his cars.

When he bought his first Range Rover he claimed "You can park them on a sixpence." We had to tow him out of a ditch. His Ferrari burst into flames on his way to the south of France, and his Aston Martin also burst into flames. He hardly ever drove the Bentley, it was my baby and I loved it and never had any problems. Dominique decided she was going to join our little ski trip and was coming to Gstaad, now don't get me wrong, I love Dom, a fine lady, still is, it's just that I didn't fancy the hour drive down the mountain and then the hour along the motorway to the airport. On the day of her arrival RT surprised me by saying he was going to pick her up, that'll do me, drop me off at the chair lift and have a nice drive. A very pleasant afternoon was spent on the piste so when I get back to the house I'm ready for some mindless computer games, and while in the middle of shooting some aliens the phone rings and it's Dominique asking where Roger was as he's not at the airport to pick her up.

The only thing I can say is for her to hang on because he left in plenty of time so he should be there, and I'm back to saving the world. Hours later the door flies open with Roger ranting and raving and saying something about F-in-cars. What's his problem? I look out the window and in the driveway is a VW Golf, so the obvious question is, "Where's the Bentley?" When his lordship finally calmed down he explained that when he got to the motorway there was a blizzard, so he had to have the windscreen wipers on full, but the one on the drivers side came off, so he stopped the car and was groping around in the snow looking for it, and he found it and put it back on. So far so good, except a couple of miles further on it came off again, and this time it was nowhere to be seen. Now try and picture the situation. Swiss motorway, lots of snow falling, very expensive black Bentley and a very famous pop star hanging out the window while driving so he can wipe the snow off the screen so he can see. Not a very good look at all.

On arrival at Geneva he took the car to the Rolls Royce dealer to get fixed, and it wasn't long after this that I said my final goodbye to a trusty friend. Roger on the other hand said Good F***ing Riddance. I have an equally pathetic driving story when we were in Rio, this time it was the two of us, a convertible and one hell of a lot of rain. Next time might be right to tell you how we put the Cross together from the first ad. onwards. Before I go I have a question for Jacky. Do you remember all those bacon sandwiches we had at the auditions? That's it for now Bye

Crystal

#queen #queen band #the cross #the cross band #roger taylor #john deacon #dominique beyrand #crystal taylor #crystal's tales

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creativeashproductions · 3 years

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Mountains and Lessons // Luke Patterson

Summary: A bucket list item Reggie had had was to experience a white Christmas. He ended up dying before hand and his opportunity brings up. All Luke wants is music and warmth, not stuck on a stupid mountain in cold Colorado. Alex is excited to get out of Californai for once.

Warning: Swearing, death, angst, Christmas themed but not Christmas and fluff

Words: 4.9k

A/N: Breaks my heart that Reggie potentially never got to experience making snow angels, snow people and join a snowball fight. But my theme appears to be angst so there’s that as well.

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Masterlist

Julie had a structured routine and schedule she liked to follow in her life, not strict but definitely a guideline. Monday to Friday, like ever minor, spent the majority of the time in a classroom. After school, she would return home straight to the kitchen for a quick snack before spreading her homework on the kitchen island. The homework was typically one hour before Julie would head out to the studio for band rehearsal.

Flynn, as the band manager, had declared Friday’s to be band free just so that Julie and Flynn could hang out. Saturday’s consisted of morning band practice, the early afternoon had a songwriting session with Luke. In the late evening after an early supper, the band would head to the gig they had gotten. Sunday’s however were strictly days off from the band no matter what, the boys would go their own ways for the day as well.

Today, for the young teenager was a Friday but Flynn had strep throat confining herself to her house. No visitors and her electronics taken away to get rest. It was incredibly dull, and no one wanted to go against Flynn’s words because she could be scary.

Julie had done her homework, did her chores, revised a new song, started a new book and added more doodles to her shoes. Now she was laying on her bed staring at the ceiling with her headphones in.

“Julie?” Ray spoke from her open bedroom door. The man received no reaction with his daughter’s head in the clouds, “Julie? I need to talk to you.”

Ray walked over to his daughter to tug the bud out of her left ear bringing the girl back down to land. The teenager sat up to look at her father.

“What’s up?”

“Can you meet me in the living room?” Ray’s blue eyes crinkled at the corners from the many laughs he had shared in his lifetime. While she was confused, Julie proceeded to follow her father down to the lively decorated room.

Carlos had already been corralled to the living room couch listlessly staring in the distance with no iPad on his person. The lack of electronic was a red flag to the musician, the girl settled on the couch while Ray shifted things on the coffee table.

Once settled on the wood coffee table, he focused on his children, “We’ve always discussed big decisions in our family. We had an open discussion of retracting our initial decision to move.”

“Is this about my bed? I can clean it! I will-“

“Carlos! This isn’t about under your bed, we do need to have a conversation about that young man.” Carlos pointed one finger in Carlos’ direction before addressing the situation, “This year is the first year we’ll celebrate Christmas without…”

“Mom.” Both Carlos and Julie murmured slumping down at the stifling reminder of the loss the Molina’s had suffered.

Julie clenched her jaw, forcing the grief down as her hand crept over to hold Carlos’ hand in comfort. The glittering of his eyes and the gnawing on his lower lip dead giveaways he was losing the battle with sadness. Ever since Julie was a kid, she had always been there for Carlos, not saying they didn’t fight. Evidence as Carlos’ requesting a normal sister.

“It’s going to be different. I got offered an excellent contract by a ski resort, we could potentially renovate the bathroom.” Ray’s eyebrows came together as the touchy topic came about.

After Rose died, it had dented the Molina’s financials with the loss of income, the money didn’t matter compared to the person. When the sun shone through the dark clouds, it had affected the way the Molina’s had to live. Of course, the Molina’s had it better than most with a house over their head and food on the table.

Ray just wanted the best for his kids.

“We could build snowmen?” Carlos gleefully exclaimed beaming at the sheer image of seeing snow in person.

“That’s the thing. The ski resort hosts a handful of parties by companies and clients. The contract is photographing the events for their website. All expenses paid and it could open doors to more clients.”

The idea tore Julie in half. Not decorating the tree with her family, Tia Victoria’s tamales that changed every year and carolling with her friends. A lot of traditions wouldn’t happen that had been constant for the Molina family. New Year Eve’s movie night with Flynn wouldn’t happen; the two girls exchanged wrapped Christmas pyjamas to wear.

On the other hand, the new scenery would distract Julie from the broken Christmas holiday without Mom. Julie always wanted to experience a white Christmas for the snow angels, the snowmen, spontaneous snowball fights, sledding and hot cocoa to warm up after the cold.

In the end, it was the glee on Carlos’ face and the excitement on her father’s that had her caving.

“Let’s do it.” Julie faked her enthusiasm before excusing herself from the conversation of Carlos’ disgusting bedroom.

The young teenager shuffled her way to the studio yearning for the piano to cheer herself up. Typically discovering the guys playing music alone infuriated the girl but at the moment she just wanted to mourn the change of Christmas.

“Hey!” Reggie spoke with a bright grin at the moping teenager. At the lack of reaction, his grin faltered, “Julie?”

Luke’s guitar solo came to an abrupt halt seeing the forlorn girl slumping on the piano bench staring listlessly at the ivory keys. The melancholy aura gave the boys a sick feeling in their bellies, Luke wondered if her grades weren’t at Ray’s standard. Alex wondered if she had a fight with Flynn and Reggie just wanted to hug her.

Reggie did so. His arms wrapped around her shoulders in comfort, and he thanked whatever deity there was at finally being able to hug her. After Caleb and the weird situation, the OG Sunset Curve turned into glow sticks touch had become prevalent. Reggie had a secret handshake with Julie. When Alex got overwhelmed over his anxiety escalated, he would braid Julie’s hair and play with her fingers; when this happened, she never physically touched him unless he asked. Luke was a different story.

Luke’s love language is obviously physical affection, he would hug the living girl, gives high fives, grasp her hand to squeeze it. He’d also sit as close as possible for their legs to touch. It was a way for Luke to feel real.

“What’s wrong, Jay?” Alex asked, approaching the piano to heave himself on top of it. His concerned blue eyes on the teenager.

“This is the first Christmas without my Mom.” She revealed, the desolation drawing Luke to be closer to his friends.

If the boys’ had beating hearts, they would have stuttered and shattered, seeing the sorrow overflow in Julie’s eyes. In a short time, they had spent with her since the first night they had come to care about each other immensely.

“I’m so sorry,” Alex spoke scootching closer to lay his hand on the limp hand resting on the piano top. The smile of thanks warming the drummer inside.

“Dad got this perfect job at a ski resort. It’s good money, and Carlos is excited. I don’t want to spend Christmas somewhere else. I want to be here; I want to go carolling with you guys. I want New Year’s Eve movie night with Flynn, I want to fight Carlos on who gets to put the star on the tree. I want to bake cookie.” Julie broke, “Sure a white Christmas would be cool, but this is home.”

“It’s not about where you celebrate. It’s about who you celebrate with Jules.” Luke quietly spoke up physically with them but mentally elsewhere.

His mind returned to the night in December that irrevocably altered his relationship with his parents’. He had tainted Christmas for himself and his family when he stormed out never to return. He would give anything to spend a Christmas, a birthday, or even a Mother’s Day with his parents just one more time. A consolation to the guitarist was easing his parents’ pain with Unsaid Emily.

“You’ll get to build snowmen?” Reggie questioned pouting at his lifer friend who giggled at his look of betrayal, “I was going to spend Christmas at my uncle’s place in Washington before we died.”

Reggie’s words didn’t change the sombre atmosphere, but it did flip a switch in Julie’s mind. Julie could create new traditions with her new family as well.

“We’ll get to build snowmen.”

“How? We’ll be here. You’ll be wherever the resort it.” Reggie interjected with a twisted smile at Julie’s words. The young girl rolled her eyes at him, “We can’t crash your family vacation. It’s Christmas.”

“Reg, you wouldn’t be ‘crashing’ the family vacation. You three are part of my family.” Julie’s words had to be the most touching thing the boys had heard in years, both the twenty-five dead and from 1990-1995.

“I’m so excited!” Reggie beamed, “I have to go, thank Ray!”

With that, the ghostly teenager disappeared in a bright ball of light to the house where Ray was most likely accepting the job. While Luke and Reggie didn’t know boundaries, they sure could make things better for their friends.

The giggle came from the girl bundled up in layers tossed a packed ball of snow at the enemy behind the other snow fort. The sharp laugh of her opponents warming you up more than hot cocoa, well the layers were unnecessary. But, what’s winter without the bundled up outer clothing.

“Surrender!” You called out throwing the new ball high with the hope it would land on the other person. It hit the top of the wall instead.

Lucy was just about to return fire with one of her pre-made snow weapons when the resort’s main building front door opened. Backlit by the lights giving a heavenly glow was a woman of average height. Greying hair scooped up in an elegant style, and thick clothing stood Lucy’s mom.

Your heart clenched at the visible sadness on the woman’s face as her eyes found the mountain in the distance. It had been a constant in the last seven years of the year-round residents and the plaque on the property. Lucy’s family had never properly healed from the tragic event, but they also could bear to leave the place either.

Fox & Hare Ski Resort had been in the ownership of the same family for over a hundred years, a place of happiness. A place where Lucy had loved as a massive fan of skiing and wintertime, Lucy was excited for this year the most. It was Lucy’s third year of lessons with a very well respected and highly sought out trainer.

“Bye!” Lucy spoke to the now standing young adult. Her little feet dashing to the main building for supper with her parents.

Your eyes found the parking lot as a car pulled up to one the spaces reserved for staff; his looks matched the temporary photographer. With him was a young boy and a teenage girl about your own age. All bundled up for the cold climate, but you were most surprised at the sudden appearance of three males.

They had to ghosts. If the teleporting wasn’t obvious enough, it was the lack of warm clothes. For God’s sake, one of them didn’t even have sleeves.

“Hm interesting.” You hummed scrutinizing the trio following the other three aimlessly to the building. You pegged them as about your age with a very vintage style in both fashion and hairstyles.

The luggage clicked on each transition to another board on the porch ramp for accessibility a welcome sound. Just another daily occurrence that brought peace to the individual. Unable to hold yourself back, you quickly scooped up three snowballs.

The first hit the taller boy in the back of the head. When his head swivelled, he couldn’t see the person that did it. Shaking it off, he turned back to view the mountain. Sprinting to the vast sea of trees you stopped halfway to chuck the second snowball. It hit the guy in the leather jacket.

You ducked behind the tree when he loudly protested the sudden attack. With a wicked grin, you went to send the third one before you yelped.

“Nu-uh.” The sudden voice spoke clicking his tongue. Slowly turning you saw the last boy staring you down, “You should have left Reggie for last. He’s very loud, he’s a personal alarm.”

Your mouth opened as the other two appeared, “I’ve never had a snowball fight before!”

You took a guess that was Reggie.

“I’m Y/N.” You spoke holding out for hand for the three to shake. They each introduced themselves; your first hit was Alex, the second was Reggie, and the failed hit was Luke.

“What brings you to Colorado?” You asked shoving your hands in your snow pants bouncing on the heels of your feet. The crunch of snow under them unfamiliar to the trio.

“Our band member is staying here for two weeks. Her dad got a photography gig.” Alex spoke, scanning the area, “So, are you a ghost?”

“I’m a tour guide and area expert.” You beamed revealing a big smile to the three guys standing in the powdered snow.

The cheery light in your eyes, easing the ghosts in the unfamiliar landscape, each a juxtaposition to the climate. Nodding towards the rental shop, you guided them into the average-sized building for the necessary winter wear. Seasoned with your background working in the shop, you quickly grabbed items that wouldn’t be noticed for them.

“We don’t nee-“

“Gotta live the experience. I used to work in here, so I’ve taken the liberty to group your gear. Alex, you have light blue and pink. Reggie red and black leaving the dark blue for Luke.”

You wore a seafoam green ski jacket and matching snow pants paired with the trusty black boots. While the boys dressed in the clothing you chose, you collected your things as well. As soon as they finished, they turned to see you had a snowboard lilac to the dark purple-black gradient. On the top of the board in the middle had a moon with the white foam of the ocean. On the lilac background, the deep purple cut the moon in half, the deep purple background had the lilac moon half. The black had a rough outline of a circle similar to the moon on the front with BURTON in the ring.

“I had a different board.” Your smile faltered, remembering the beautiful board your parents had gotten you for your birthday.

“What happened to it?” Luke questioned scanning the room for the board.

“It snapped in half.” You stated practically skipping out the door, “C’mon! I wanna teach you how to kill it on the mountain! Have you ever done this? Skiing or snowboarding?”

“Neither,” Alex spoke glancing around the area as you led them to the Gondola lifts that brought people to the top of the mountain. This one specifically for the beginner levels perfect for the three new friends, “We’re born and bred in California, never got the opportunity to travel outside the state.

“Well, I’ll try my very best to give you a good experience on the mountain..”

Once released from the Gondola, you jogged to the side giggling at the sight of them struggling to walk in the heavy boots. Near the Gondola, the area was the shift ski patrol building with the heated bathroom. The building along with the bench had been a new addition a few years ago. It never failed to halt you to stare at it for a handful of seconds.

“Okay, so we’ll start with the basics.” You announced clapping your hands together in the thick mittens.

Alex picked up the activity naturally with confidence and calmness he couldn’t even remember last feeling. He had to focus on his movements and directions, giving him a welcomed break from his overthinking. Luke had started his angry pout with his accurate portrayal of newborn Bambi.

“I’m just going to take a break,” Luke muttered wheezing from his sudden position staring at the sky. Taking pity on the Californian boy, you pressed the release function on his boots.

“I think Reggie’s at the ski patrol building.” You called to the boy with the fringe sulking in the direction of Reggie. It left you with Alex learning new hacks to the board.

“This is fun!” Alex shouted, raising his mouth to the sky, “Ooh Willie would love yelling up here.”

“Ghost?” You asked, receiving a nod in response, taking the time to sit down with your knees raised—the board on the edge still connected to your boots.

Alex flailed as he copied you taking in the sunset, backlight the buildings slowly turning their nights one at a time. The large main building would have a fire for everyone with supplied hot cocoa. Tomorrow the mountain would be less populated with the first of many Christmas parties. The crisp air welcomed high above the buildings you felt peace.

“Is it safe to get off the mountain at night?” Alex asked, hugging his knees to his chest, tilting his head to look at your profile.

The smile was small but warm on the girls face as Alex took in her features that had a particular contentness that is hard to attain. Alex could see in Luke when he finished a song he would deem his best work before the next song. Or Reggie at a beach bonfire with the ocean crashing faintly behind Luke’s acoustic guitar.

“Yeah.” You replied smoothly removing your board from your boots to carry it to where Luke and Reggie were. You backtracked to ensure Alex released his boots; his fast learning evident when he stood with a proud smile.

Alex and you both surveyed the area for any lost items or gear you may have forgotten about, coming up clear you continued walking. Reggie and Luke were laughing with their skiis neatly put aside. Hands locked in a fierce game of rock, paper, scissors they looked childlike and untouched by life’s hard teachings.

“I’ll put my board in the Gondola. Be right back!” You called over your shoulder. Alex looked over his shoulder to reply, but the space was empty.

“She moves fast,” Alex muttered shaking it off to jog closer to the boys. He was close to sitting down on the bench when it caught his attention.

“Whoa. That’s nasty.” Alex spoke, gaining his bandmates attention to the bench they had overlooked.

The bench was made out of two snowboards in stone and wood combinations with a gorgeous design. Pieces of the snowboard made to look like a nearly finished puzzle—a plaque on a thick post behind it.

“For the girl who changed the sport for women. Fast like a fox, as graceful as a swan, may you guide lost souls to safety.” Reggie read off the plaque. Luke’s fingers went to brush the ice and snow clouding the picture above the words.

“You guys coming?” You yelled from a distance startling all three intrigued teenage ghosts. Their eyes glanced at the edge of the board in the picture that matched the bench.

“Thanks for that by the way,” Luke spoke gesturing to the area as the Gondola moved down the mountain. His eyes greener in the dimly lit enclosure that shadowed your flustered features at the sole attention.

“I’m on the mountain every day. It was fun talking with people my age.” You informed them pleased to sit in the silence. The three took in the sunset from the height with no buildings blocking the view, “If you can’t find me, I’ll be on the mountain.”

Once back on the bottom of the mountain, the four teenagers snuck the equipment in your personal shack to dry and keep hidden for future lessons. The three guys bid farewell to find Julie in the large cabin, each with beaming smiles and stories to tell the girl.

“Where’ve you guys been?” Julie asked the ghosts in the tucked-away corner near the massive fire ceasing her scribbling to look at them, “Usually I can’t shake you. I had to sit through a safety talk by the director for the mountain.”

“This wicked girl taught us how to snowboard! She’s so cool, Julie. There’s this passion in her when we got on the mountain. The passion that we all have for music!” Luke gushed, breaking his cool guy personality, “She’s so patient.”

“What’s her name?” Julie laughed, getting a first-hand look at Luke all crushed out on someone. His cheeks a rosy pink and soft eyes it amused Julie just imagining the number of love songs he would pen.

“Y/N.” Luke sighed slouching against the wall, “She’s so pretty.”

“-once more, I ask that you check every morning and afternoon for weather conditions, the local Avalanche Information Center website and be aware of our maps for potential avalanche areas. We have a live app that gives updates as well. Just a reminder that I’m Susan and you can also have the ski patrol contact me for further information. Enjoy your stay!” Susan called out gracefully cutting through the crowd to Lucy falling asleep in her chair.

”I heard some lady talking to her friends that the safety regulations and rules increased after an avalanche killed someone. I didn’t catch the name, but it took weeks before they found the bodies, they found the board in a few days.” Julie supplied with a half-smile at another reminder of death.

The three boys had a moment of clarity. They put the pieces together that the bench made of the boards was in memory of the person who died. It was a bitter moment of potentially standing where a person tragically killed with no warning.

“Anyway, I have to meet Dad and Carlos in the room. Have to video call Tía as her stressed wishes for not being home.” Julie sighed, pushing her feet into the slippers, she left the dino ones at home, she had grabbed from the room.

A few days into the Molina’s white Christmas it had been a charming morning thus far. The guys had done a songwriting session for most of the morning. Luke’s eyes continued to scan the room for you as he had since the first day. He had yet to see you inside, if the ghostly trio wasn’t on the mountain with you, then you were playing with Lucy.

Julie and the Phantoms had retreated to the suite the Molina’s had been assigned when the weather looked questionable. Most of the tourists had either stayed in their rooms, cabins or in the main building. It led to Julie taking the session to the privacy of the suite to avoid looking like a crazy person.

“I need to stretch. Walk?” Reggie asked, gaining different sounds of agreement from the band.

The four individuals walked to the main lounging area where a crowd formed around the makeshift stage. On it was Susan shaking in her husband’s arms.

“Please, has anyone seen Lucy?” Susan sobbed, “She’s ten years old. She’s got blue eyes, ginger hair and she’s small for her age.”

Julie joined her father near the crowd, where he swiftly brought his eldest child into his arms with Carlos. Ray’s heart clenched at the thought of his kids going missing like the owner of Fox & Hare owners.

“Dad’s what’s going on?” Julie questioned viewing the blownup picture of a little girl, the perfect split of her parents.

“Susan Fox’s daughter Lucy didn’t show up for breakfast. They thought she was playing just outside the building. No one has seen her. There have been warnings of avalanches, and the mountain was closed twenty minutes ago. ” Ray told his daughter squeezing her once more cementing his gaze on the couple, “It’s devastating to them.”

“Why?” Julie questioned for the concerned ghostly trio at her side.

“A few years ago, Susan and her husband closed the resort for a few months. They completely gutted their regulations and worked closely with avalanche experts. They upgraded the area for increased safety and reworked the rules and regulations.”

“What does it have to do with Lucy?” The Puerto Rican girl questioned furrowing her brow in the same way her mother had. Julie had scrapped back her hair into a half-up ponytail this morning.

“They did all that because they lost their daughter in a slab avalanche when Lucy was three. Slab avalanches are the most dangerous type, they make up 90% of avalanche deaths.” Ray sighed, staring up at the snow-capped looming mountain, “It took weeks to recover her body, there’s a bench on the mountain where she loved to snowboard. She was training for the Olympics actually.”

Luke’s attention faded from the conversation recalling that you would be on the mountain at dawn to watch the sunrise. In the sudden motion, Luke stumbled over his own feet heading straight for the shack. His mind is numb as he applied the gear to his body, the movements keeping him from panicking. Luke sensed rather than saw Reggie and Alex behind him.

“What are we doing?” Alex questioned, getting dressed as well.

“Going to the mountain.” Luke was very determined. Catching Reggie’s confused gaze Luke roughly gestured to the far corner, “What’s missing?”

“Y/N’s gear.” Alex and Reggie breathed physically shaking at the desolate area where a gorgeous board usually was. That lit a fire under their asses for sure, grateful for poofing they appeared on the mountain.

Scouring the white background, Alex pinpointed a speck of seafoam green running for a speck of bring pink and yellow. In the fear they had taken to sprinting in the bulky boots as if they felt something about to happen.

Your attention solely on Lucy, “Lucy, we need to leave now.”

For Lucy, the mountain was her life, it had been one of the things that her older sister lived and breathed for. All Lucy wanted to do was to be like her big sister. Lucy had the potential, her moves and posture striking to the late sister.

“This is the best trail!” Lucy stomped her black boot in the snow while her other one secured in her snowboard.

“It’s also one marked off for an avalanche.” You hissed to the little girl staring up with tear-filled eyes, “Please, go back.”

The unmistakable ‘whoomph’ sound shattered the otherwise quiet area freezing Lucy in her steps. The once stubborn ten years old turned petrified at the sheet of snow coming straight for the two girls.

“Slab avalanche.” The words covered by the snapping of trees. Your arms yanked Lucy up as you raced perpendicular to the moving snow.

Your ears couldn’t distinguish between Lucy’s screams, your screams or even the loud sound of the destructive avalanche. The alarm and terror drowning your insides, leaving no room for thoughts, only actions. Lucy’s small stature and the years you had on the location helped to dive into a safe zone.

Even in the safe zone, you raced further to collapse with Lucy’s inconsolable body quaking in absolute distress. The tears of relief fell down your face as you leaned against the bench of the memorial. Your head thumped the bench causing a puff of snow to fall on your hat.

“Holy shit.” The sob of words from Luke came before his arms wrapped around you. With being able to touch Julie, the guys didn’t get alarmed at the sight.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Alex frantically scanned the little girl before moving towards you in the same amount of fear. Reggie rendered speechless at the events.

“What the hell were you thinking!” Luke shouted, lunging away to stare you down. Tears streaking his own cheeks, “You’re also preaching the safety rules of the resort. You definitely read the reports and decided to come on the mountain?”

“Luke,” Reggie mumbled remaining the only one standing. His words went ignored, “Luke! LUKE!”

“What!?” Luke snapped resulting in the bassist flinching at the stark memory of his home life, “Sorry, Reggie. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t think Y/N was ever in danger,” Reggie stated, bringing both confused boys to where he stood.

There above the bench uncovered by the snow that melted on Y/N’s thick toque was a picture. Above the quote was a picture of a girl holding the snowboard the bench was made of. Wearing a unique matching snow set was the exact replica of the girl Luke had fallen for.

“Holy shit.” Luke and Alex murmured gaping at the picture and the name of the girl who had died.

Luke recalled things you said,

“I used to work in here.”

“It snapped in half.”

“It was fun talking with people my age.”

Luke’s mind went a step further recalling the first lesson you gave the guys where you went from the bench to the Gondola in a short time. How people didn’t react to you, the ski patrol that ignored you every time on the mountain with them.

“You’re the daughter that died in the avalanche.” Luke gasped, dropping his jaw nearly to the snow-packed ground.

“Exactly seven years ago today.” You replied, keeping your eyes glued to your little sister yearning to comfort here, “Reggie, can you go in the building and press the red button? It’s a signal sender for people sheltering from the conditions.”

Nothing could meet the feeling of your parents weeping along with Lucy after the medic deemed her okay. While you wish you could join the hug, you also knew that things happened for a reason. The feeling that same with kissing Luke could never meet the level of happiness at Lucy’s safety.

I came close to killing ten year old Lucy in this but decided not to be cruel.

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#luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #julie and the phantoms imagines #charlie gillespie imagines #jatp luke #jatp fanfic #caitsy and ash productions

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openingnightposts · 7 months

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#HolliHarms #NewYorkTheater #OffBroadway.WestVillage #TheaterReview

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just-come-baek · 4 years

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get in, loser 1

Pairing: Taeyong x female!reader

Themes: smut | mafiaboss!taeyong | carthief!reader

Word count: 6.2k

Summary: How to get noticed by the most dangerous man in the country? I guess stealing his sport car and dying it hot pink must catch his attention.

A/N This series will be around 5 chapters long. New updates shall be posted once every two weeks I hope. Also, @starlightbebes challenged me into posting chapter 1 on Taeyong’s birthday, so I won. ^^ Pay up.

***

Considering it was Saturday night, the city seemed oddly serene. Any other night, I’d witness some wild shit, yet tonight, it was quite peaceful. No prostitutes were arguing with no-cooperative customers, no inexperienced adolescents throwing up in the public trash cans, no aggressive football spectators fighting with their rivals.

Despite the calm aura, the city was vibrant; colorful neon signs were blinking, inviting people into different liquor establishments, cars honking on drunken pedestrians jaywalking across the streets, a few undiscovered musicians playing on the main square with plenty of tourists recording them.

Each establishment promised an unforgettable night, and for some people, it would be a real dilemma to pick one among such a rich palette of entertainment. I, on the other hand, had a pretty well-defined plan of stealing a fancy car – a precious possession of one, infamous crime lord in the country.

It wouldn’t be my first car theft, yet it surely was going to be the most meaningful one. Everyone in town knew that Lee Taeyong was up to no good. When it came to his personal taste, though, it was impeccable. The most expensive, the most extravagant, the fastest cars belonged to him, so stealing one of his astounding vehicles would be the cherry on top of my villainous career.

Rumor had it, tonight he’s celebrating in his VIP club – the Cherry Bomb; if you ask me, its name is a little bit tacky, but who I am to judge? The crowd of people trying to get inside was enormous, so despite its name, the local must’ve been quite profitable.

Being the most dangerous crime lord in the country must be a pretty time-consuming profession – I wouldn’t expect him to get to the club before midnight. Regardless of what must’ve been on his to-do list tonight, his schedule was bound to be packed.

It was almost 1 o’clock when matte black carbon-fibred McLaren P1 LM with “DRAGON” written on its registration plate pulled over in front of the club; in an instant, people in the queue grew silent, mesmerized by the handsome man who nonchalantly got out of the car, tossing the keys to the valet boy.

Lee Taeyong was just as good-looking as he was deadly – with his styled-up tousled vibrant-red hair, ripped black jeans, and a top-brand leather jacket, he made people turn their heads despite their gender and sexual orientation. In all honesty, I did my research, I had dozens of pictures of him, and I knew what to expect. The pictures didn’t do him justice, though. His natural beauty was enchanting, but when topped with his charisma and cocky confidence, it was a lethal mixture.

When Taeyong strolled inside his establishment, I, just like the other people who were in rapture, could finally get my shit together. It was remarkably difficult to remain in the right state of mind when he was within your eyesight, and tonight, it was going to be my most significant theft, so I couldn’t get distracted.

“You can do this,” I encouraged myself before running across the street, ready to execute the first stage of my plan.

I didn’t dare to doubt my skills for even a second. Tonight I would succeed, and Taeyong would have to call an Uber to get back to his grand mansion.

***

It’s been three days since my ingenious heist, and I was getting impatient. I wanted Taeyong to find me and talk to me, yet I was waiting and waiting, and he didn’t seem interested in getting his car back. It was actually disappointing. I couldn’t contain my curiosity; I just needed to see his reaction after I had his car tuned. I had made sure to be caught on their CCTV, so he would quickly track my traces, but it only proved me he was working with rookies.

Checking the time on my wristwatch, I walked into the run-down car repair shop, wanting to sneak one last peek at my masterpiece before I’d put a cover over it so Taeyong would gasp upon the big reveal. The new car paint looked amazing – Doyoung, my friend and a mechanic, did a great job dying it hot pink. Too bad, he was too scared to wait for Taeyong with me. I couldn’t blame him, though. Taeyong was known for his short temper, and it was understandable that Doyoung didn’t want to stick around to witness Taeyong’s wrath.

“What is taking him so long?” I asked myself as I plopped down in a ripped leather armchair, cracking a cold one. “How long does it take them to find the guys who don’t want to be found?” I wondered, pulling my phone, scrolling through the new content on my social media.

It was taking them forever, but when the sun was slowly setting behind the horizon, I could hear a vehicle park in front of the car repair shop. Judging by the engine’s roars, the car was expensive.

It must’ve been Taeyong himself.

“Finally,” I hollered as I got on my feet, throwing my slowly dying phone on the armchair. If the crime lord showed up, he needed to be welcomed accordingly. Taeyong was a royalty amongst gangers, and he deserved the best treatment.

Midnight blue Bugatti Chiron registered under “FURY” stopped on the parking lot, and I waited for Taeyong to get out. Seconds passed, and he was still sitting comfortably in the vehicle, building the tension. I didn’t feel stressed, though. Although we hadn’t been properly introduced, I knew a whole lot about him – he was famous for his rage. However, right now, he had to be impressed rather than enraged. Or at least, it was the emotion I hoped for him to feel.

Only a complete psycho, and me, would dare to steal one of his automobiles.

The descending sun was blinding me, and when I raised my hand to block the direct sunlight, the car doors opened. Even in daylight, Taeyong looked like a five-course meal. Today, he was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a Gucci T-shirt; the outfit was simple, yet on him, it looked elevated.

“Very impressive,” he shouted loudly before he coolly walked over. “You’ve got balls, I have to give you that,” he added, and I smirked, considering his words as a compliment. Men of high positions often have trouble complimenting people, let alone women, and Taeyong didn’t seem to be an exception.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, too,” I answered politely, offering him a handshake, which he contemptuously denied. “I must say, I expected to meet you sooner,” I jabbed, but Taeyong only looked at me condescendingly before he walked inside, impatient to check up on his stolen property.

“My people located you yesterday morning, but I wanted to see you in person, and you must know, I am a busy person,” he explained, studying the shabby interior. “No one steals from me.”

“Well… I already have, and it was easier than I previously assumed,” I answered confidently before approaching the cover. “I have a surprise for you, are you ready?” Taeyong didn’t even flinch, and I considered his indifference as an agreement. With one quick pull, I uncovered the vehicle, allowing him to see my teeny tiny change. “I hope you like pink.”

Taeyong grew silent.

I had told Doyoung to change the car paint to hot pink, yet Taeyong didn’t even blink. I expected him to get pissed or, at least, annoyed, but when I looked at his features, I couldn’t see any reaction.

“Actually, pink is my favorite color,” Taeyong emotionlessly announced, and I only stared at him in utter confusion.

What the fuck?

“Well… I expected a different reaction,” I spoke, the wires in my brain incapable of coming up with anything intelligent. A guy with such a foul reputation favors the color pink.

Imagine my shock.

Apparently, Taeyong is a man of many layers.

“Who are you?” Taeyong condescendingly asked as he sat comfortably in the armchair, putting my phone on the armrest. Calmly, he leaned backward, crossed his legs, and entwined his fingers over his bent knee, waiting for me to tell him everything he wanted to know.

“I think you already know who I am,” I stated, and he just stared at me intensely. His people must’ve done a background check on me, yet he still wanted to hear it again. Stealing his car was one thing, but disrespecting him about such trivial matter seemed way worse. Doing something so risky and bold was admirable in his eyes, but wasting his time like this was just annoying, so I simply did what was expected of me.

I told Taeyong about my childhood – how I spent my allowance on go-kart races; it was my escape whenever my father got drunk and picked up fights with my mom. Then, I disclosed my secrets on how I began stealing cars – when I was seventeen, because of excessive drinking, my father needed a liver transplant, and it was the only way of getting money remotely quickly. Later, at the age of twenty-one, I participated in my first street race, though this time, it wasn’t because I needed money – I did it because I enjoyed the thrill.

“How did you steal it? How, on Earth, did you go inside the club without any of my workers noticing you?” Taeyong asked, and although he must’ve already concluded my operating plan, he wanted me to explain it myself. This time around, I didn’t even hesitate.

“I blended in,” I shortly answered with a shrug. “It wasn’t that difficult to find out all the information I needed to get inside unnoticed. I checked all your staff’s social media accounts; it took me like… three days of stalking to get their names and work schedules. That night, I sneaked into the club right after your arrival, and when somebody asked me something, I told them I was busy doing the thing the manager wanted me to do. They just assumed I am the new girl. Normally, I don’t do things like that when I steal a car, but this time around, I wanted to do something extra. Are you impressed?” I challenged, and Taeyong cocked his eyebrow, deeply in thought.

“Huh, last question. Why have you done it?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I inquired rhetorically, and Taeyong didn’t even bother to give me a proper answer. He seemed bored, and it was making me feel a little bit fed-up. “Well… in all honesty, I am sick and tired of freelancing, I want to work for you,” I elaborated, and Taeyong just chuckled as if I just told him a hilarious joke. Why was he laughing? It was a reasonable proposition, and besides, I’ve already proven my amazing skills.

“I’m not recruiting, sorry,” Taeyong spoke when he stood up and glanced at his pink vehicle. Well… it was a harsh rejection. “You have one day to return my car, or I will have my henchman kill you,” he added, walking up to me until he invaded my personal space.

“Asshole,” I whispered loud enough for him to hear me. Taeyong already knew what I was capable of, yet for some reason, he still decided not to give me a chance. It was a dick move, and I couldn’t let him have the last word.

“You’re feisty. I like that,” Taeyong said at last, “Let’s meet on Friday, at the Superhuman. Midnight. Don’t be late.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, and don’t forget to bring my fucking car.”

***

“She’s here,” Jaehyun told Taeyong as soon as the gatekeeper forwarded the message. “I can’t believe you didn’t kill her back then,” he added matter-of-factly, remembering the infamous car theft. No matter how many times he thought about it, he couldn’t comprehend how someone could be so stupid to mess with his boss. What puzzled him even more, however, was the fact that Taeyong seemed rather impressed by this woman’s actions.

“I was surprised too,” Taeyong answered honestly. “Can you believe she had the audacity to ask me to recruit her?”

Jaehyun was stupefied. “Well… are you going to?”

“Actually, I am not sure,” Taeyong replied hesitantly. It wasn’t how the regular recruitment process worked, but the woman intrigued him. She had seemed quite keen on working for him, and he was curious how much she wanted this job. “I haven’t decided yet,” Taeyong added, and Jaehyun looked at his boss in concern; Taeyong was impulsive in his decisions, and the fact that he hasn’t made up his mind yet was rather peculiar.

“You can’t be serious,” Jaehyun commented, hoping for Taeyong to come back to his senses. This wasn’t the way the things were dealt with here; if someone dared to mess with the leader, death was the kindest thing they could hope for. If other members found out about it, they might’ve thought Taeyong was getting soft. She disrespected the leader, and she ought to have faced the consequences.

“Bring her in, Jaehyun,” Taeyong ordered, dismissing Jaehyun’s concerns.

“Of course.”

“I expected to meet you in one of the VIP lounges, not in your office,” I spoke the second Taeyong’s henchman led me into an expensive-looking office at the back of the club. “You should’ve given me heads-up, I would’ve dressed accordingly,” I carried on, glancing down at my not suitable clothes.

My outfit consisted of a cropped T-shirt, denim shorts, fishnets, and a pair of combat shoes, and it did not look appropriate under these circumstances. I was expecting a flirty conversation in Taeyong’s natural habitat of leather lounges, expensive drinks, and beautiful girls competing amongst each other for his attention, but instead, he surprised me with a job interview in his private office at the back of his club. If only I had known, I would’ve dressed suitably.

“Leave us alone, Jaehyun,” Taeyong spoke in an authoritarian tone, and his associate left the room without any further comment.

The second I heard the doors click, I let out a breath of relief. For some reason, the henchman’s presence gave me chills. It was difficult to remain composed with Taeyong in such close vicinity, however, when accompanied by the other dangerous man, I felt uncomfortably anxious.

Taeyong’s piercing gaze was fixated on me, and it made me blush a little bit. He was hot as hell, and in all honesty, any woman would react this way if alone with him.

With one fluid motion, he commanded me to sit, and with a sheepish smile on my face, I obliged.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” I started, but Taeyong only smirked, sliding an A4 format envelop across the desk. “What is this?” I asked in confusion, but Taeyong just sat back, entwining his fingers together, enjoying my reaction.

Gang members didn’t sign employment contracts – that’d be silly.

“You admittance,” he started, and I cocked my eyebrow, trying to understand what the hell was going on. “Inside the envelope, you’ll find all the necessary information about your new assignment. Bring this car to me within a week, and you’ll be officially the newest addition to the family.”

It was interesting.

Taeyong had already seen me in action, yet he needed another proof of my qualifications. Actions speak louder than words, but my most recent ones screamed and ought to echo in his ears for years!

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s just a regular procedure, don’t take it personally,” Taeyong added, but I wasn’t exactly buying that. There must’ve been something that he didn’t tell me. There was a catch, it must’ve been. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have that playful spark in his eyes the whole time.

“I’ll text you the meeting location sometime this week,” he added with a genuine smile, and I didn’t even dare to question how he got my number. “Good luck, doll,” smirking, Taeyong whispered, and I started questioning his intentions.

It must’ve been a set-up.

“I look forward to hearing from you,” I answered respectfully, quickly standing up, wanting to run out of the club. Curiosity was killing me; I had to peek inside the envelope, but I couldn’t do it in front of Taeyong. I hoped he acknowledged me as fearless and confident, and I couldn’t allow him to change his opinion about me. One hesitant glance at the papers could ruin my image, and I couldn’t let it happen.

“Are you out of your mind? You can’t be serious! Tell me you didn’t recruit her,” Jaehyun angrily stormed into Taeyong’s office, fed up with the leader’s decision. The girl left the club alive, and it’s not the outcome he anticipated. Jaehyun would break her neck if only Taeyong told him to. Letting her scot-free was a mistake, and it was crazy that Jaehyun was the only one to realize it.

“Calm down, Jaehyun,” Taeyong announced casually, making Jaehyun a bit confused. “I did give her an assignment, but don’t you worry about it. She’s gonna fail. She’s good, but not that good,” Taeyong added, and both of them smirked mischievously.

***

I’ve never been more anxious. My grip on the envelope was tight, my knuckles turning white, and I really had mixed feelings about opening it. Taeyong’s mischievous smirk couldn’t have been a good omen.

On the other hand, I couldn’t let the stress weaken me, so I did what any other person in my shoes would do – I went to the liquor store and bought the biggest bottle of gin they had. Regardless of what Taeyong had assigned me to do, it would be easier to digest when drunk.

Then I hailed the cab and dialed Doyoung’s number. He picked up after the fourth ring. “I’m coming over,” I quickly said, notifying him before my arrival. As my friend, he would help me if the alcohol was to fail.

“You’re alive, so I assume it didn’t go that bad,” Doyoung spoke when he opened the doors and let me in. Not bothering to greet him, I walked passed him and shoved the bottle of gin into his hands. “Are we celebrating?” He asked, kicking the doors shut, “please, tell me we’re celebrating.”

“I don’t know,” I answered, plopping into an old armchair, throwing the envelope on the coffee table. “We’re about to find out. Taeyong gave me another assignment, but pour me a drink first. I’m not sure I can handle it sober,” I explained, and Doyoung knew what to do. Within a minute, he was back with two Scooby-doo mugs and a bottle of tonic.

“It can’t be that bad,” he started as he sat down on the couch on the other side of the coffee table, pouring us drinks, which were basically 80% alcohol. “I mean… you’ve stolen his car; can it get any more challenging than that?” Doyoung asked, and I actually had to admit he was right. Taeyong’s the most dangerous crime lord in the country; as long as he didn’t make me steal Kim Jongun’s tank, I should be fine. However, on the second thought, I didn’t know Taeyong that well, so the guess might’ve not been that farfetched.

“I don’t want to open this envelope,” I confessed as I picked up the mug with Shaggy’s face and took a large gulp.

“Do you want me to do that for you?” Doyoung proposed, and I nodded. Perhaps if Doyoung read it out for me, it would’ve been easier to accept my fate. “Because you’re all stressed out, I’m all fidgety too,” Doyoung added before he grabbed the envelope, looking inside.

“What does it say?” I inquired in curiosity, hoping to hear some good news.

“It looks like you gotta steal a yellow Ferrari LaFerrari,” Doyoung started, as he pulled out a picture of my target. OK, it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, it was doable. “And it belongs to someone called Yuta,” he spoke, and I jumped to my feet and snatched the papers out of Doyoung’s hands in disbelief.

It must’ve been a sick joke.

“It can’t be,” I whispered, refusing to comprehend what Taeyong wanted of me. He was a complete psycho if he thought I could steal one of Yuta’s cars.

“Do you know this dude?” Doyoung inquired, reaching for his cup with Fred.

“Do I know this dude?” I deadpanned, trying not to burst out in tears. I was royally screwed. “It’s Nakamoto Yuta. He’s the royalty of Yakuza. He’s basically Taeyong’s biggest rival,” I explained, and it got Doyoung speechless.

“Well… it sucks,” he whispered, downing his drink, ignoring the burn. “What are you gonna do?”

“Good question,” I replied, coping Doyoung’s actions, drinking my gin to the very last drop. “Even if I manage to steal his car, how am I supposed to get it across the border? It’s a suicide mission.”

“Is there anything else in the envelope?” Doyoung asked, and I put all the papers on the coffee table. Among documents about Yuta’s bio, there was a check for 20 grand written under my name. “Mr. Bad Boy must’ve felt generous,” he commented, but I didn’t find it amusing. Mr. Bad Boy, as Doyoung eloquently put it, would kill me if I failed this mission.

“Generous or not, I’m gonna be dead if I don’t bring this car to him within a week,” I muttered, feeling helpless. I lacked ideas on how to conduct the theft successfully, and the time was slowly running out.

“You can do this,” Doyoung stated confidently, not even a sliver of hesitation in his tone. He was absolutely sure of my skills, and I wished I had as much faith in myself as he had in me. “We have no time to waste; pack everything you need, we’re going to Japan.”

“Do you have a plan, though?”

“We’ll come up with one on our way.”

***

Doyoung was right; we had no time to waste. God, in times like these, I was really thankful he was my friend. Right now, when I was a nervous wreck, he was the voice of reason. If it wasn’t for him, I’d get wasted and pass out in the poodle of my own vomit. Thanks to him, I was only slightly tipsy, but productive as fuck. We made a stop by my apartment and his car repair to get everything necessary, and then took a train to the harbor.

The first ferry to Japan was leaving the docks at 7 o’clock. The journey was about to last more or less 8 hours, it was plenty of time to finish the entire bottle of gin and come up with a foolproof plan on how to steal that Ferrari.

“How about you seduce Yuta, and he lets you borrow his car?” Doyoung voiced his seventh plan this morning, and in comparison to his previous ideas, it actually seemed doable. “It’s great in its simplicity,” he added, and I shook my head in disappointment. Even if I was his type, how was I supposed to bullshit my way into his pants without any Japanese skills?

“How about you seduce Yuta, and when he’s busy drilling your ass, I’ll sneak into his mansion and snatch the car?” I proposed, and Doyoung fake-gagged at the thought of doing this. Or maybe, he just has had one shot of gin too many. One could never be sure…

“How about you seduce Yuta and talk him into doing it in his car, and when you’re about to do it, I knock him out with a rock?”

“How about we go to Yuta’s club, and you challenge him in a singing duel, and you win the car fair and square?”

“How about we find Yuta’s doppelganger to steal his identity and pay him to steal the car for you?”

“How about we kidnap Yuta and keep him hostage until they give us the car?”

“How about we hypnotize Yuta into making him lend us his car?”

Truthfully, we struggled a lot while trying to figure out the best way to prove my worth to Taeyong. Stealing Yuta’s car wasn’t an easy assignment – some people would say it was impossible. Thankfully, we came up with one solution throughout our drunken brainstorm that wasn’t that bad…

We were so drunk that I couldn’t actually remember who came up with this idea. One second, Doyoung and I were brainstorming, then, a moment later, someone woke us up because we reached the shore.

“Come on, we have no time,” Doyoung said as he picked up his bag, urging me to pick up mine and get off the ferry. I rubbed my eyes and looked at him, wondering how, on Earth, he wasn’t hungover. “You’ve got only six days left…”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I answered, groaning.

I had an unpleasant feeling in my gut, telling me this week was going to be awful, but at least we had figured out a plan. It was far from perfection, but with proper execution, I could pull this through.

***

By sheer luck, I managed to accomplish my seemingly impossible mission. Though I didn’t fully believe in the plan, we didn’t make a single mistake, and after three days of data analyzing and one night of the actual heist, we were on our way back.

Hopefully, it was the only recruitment assignment that Taeyong wanted me to fulfill.

On Friday, one hour before the meet-up, Taeyong sent me the location.

In an hour, I’d become one of his people, and I wanted to look worthy of the new position. Wisely, I chose my best outfit, deciding to wear a pair of black leather trousers, a modest white button-down shirt, and fancy boots on a 10 centimeters heel. I looked formal, but with a fierce twist, and I gave off that cutthroat businesswoman vibe. I lived for this outfit. And to top it all, I carefully applied make-up, making sure to highlight all of my features.

I expected to meet with Taeyong in his extravagant mansion, yet he surprised and scared me at the same time with his decision. This gig cost me a lot of stress, and the last thing I wanted was to meet with the most dangerous thug in the country in a deserted meeting point in the city outskirts.

Trying to remain calm, I sighed to shake off all types of negative thoughts. Terrifying scenarios were playing in my head in which Taeyong shot me in the head and dumped my body somewhere in the woods. Taeyong was a dangerous gangster, but I believed he had the honor and would not kill me without any concrete reason.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same thing about his henchmen – this Jaehyun guy in particular. It was obvious the guy hated me and was pissed with Taeyong because of me. I didn’t fancy meeting with him, it would be best if Taeyong and I could talk alone.

Punctually, I arrived at the meeting point. Nonchalantly, I got out of the vehicle, shut the doors close, and leaned against the hood, waiting for Taeyong to appear. The night was warm, yet a little bit windy – it was perfect for the employment celebration.

Taeyong was running a bit late, but I didn’t mind. Besides, he was the most wanted thug in the country; he wasn’t running late – anyone he was meeting with was just too early.

So I waited.

Thankfully, I had plenty of time to psych myself up, so when I heard an engine roar in the distance, I didn’t panic. I was confident enough to face Taeyong and genuinely smile in response to his compliments. This theft was epic, and I expected to hear how impressed he was of me. It was the only reaction I hoped to get.

I was right, it had to be Taeyong. Who else could’ve been in the jet black Audi R8 Spyder registered under “WHIPLASH”?

Having parked right beside me, Taeyong got out of the car, carefully inspecting the Ferrari. His focused eyes were studying the vehicle’s features as if trying to tell it indeed belonged to Yuta. In the meantime, I studied Taeyong’s outfit.

Tonight, he was wearing all black: a pair of high combat shoes, black cargo pants, a see-through shirt, and a leather jacket. The outfit was on point, but when topped with his new haircut – tousled and of powder pink color, Taeyong looked like a model. I wouldn’t be surprised if I found out that modeling companies contact him every once in a while to recruit him.

“How did you do it?” Taeyong asked, his tone telling me he didn’t believe in my talent. Well… that hurt a little bit, but proving him wrong gave me a lot of pleasure at the same time.

“It wasn’t easy,” I started, not really wanting to spill the beans; especially, when the story wasn’t as impressive as he might’ve thought. “I really wanted this job, so I had to figure out a plan. You know how it is… you gotta discover your enemies’ weaknesses and use them to your advantage.”

“It doesn’t answer my question, doll,” Taeyong remarked, smirking at the nickname he once again used to refer to me. It must’ve really stuck with him. “I gotta be honest with you, I expected you to fail, but you actually did it. I’m impressed,” he added, and I smiled, swiping my hair to the back in a nonchalant manner.

“What can I say? I’m really good at what I do,” I replied, looking into his eyes, trying to remain in the confident pose. “Now, it would be a mistake not to hire me,” I trailed off, making Taeyong smirk again. He was gorgeous, but when that mischievous smirk decorated his face, he was just breath-taking.

With his hands in the pockets, Taeyong took a few nonchalant steps toward me and placed his hands on the hood of the car, leaning in, trapping me between his arms. His stern glace was trying to penetrate my mind, to read me, but I managed to remain calm.

I wanted to work for him, not to hop on his dick, and though the second option seemed rather tempting, I had my priorities set straight.

“From the moment I saw you, I knew you were special,” Taeyong whispered in a husky voice, and I looked up into his eyes, swallowing hard. He was indisputably intimidating, but I couldn’t let his charm overtake me. “You seem troublesome, but at the same time, awfully skilled.”

“You bet,” I answered, trying to ignore the fact that Taeyong just pushed his leg between my thighs, inching closer and closer with every second. “Is that how you treat all your employees?” I asked, trying not to lose my cool.

“They’re not employees, they’re family,” Taeyong clarified, and I rolled my eyes, actually expecting his kind of answer from him. “And that would be weird if I treated them this way, wouldn’t it?”

“They wouldn’t be your family, but your orgy if you ask me,” I spoke matter-of-factly, waiting for his reaction since I doubted anyone was this frank with him.

“Why do I have a feeling you’re gonna be a huge pain in the ass?” Taeyong asked, hopefully not expecting an answer. “Quite talented one,” he added, dropping his head down to my neck, placing a delicate peck against my sensitive skin.

“But hey, it’s what keeps everything fresh and exciting,” I offered, suggesting looking on the bright side of these circumstances. “So… speaking of my recruitment…” I mentioned, internally wishing for Taeyong to keep his hands to himself. I was trying to be professional, and it was incredibly difficult with the boss, basically making out with my neck.

“One more test and you’re officially a new addition to the family,” Taeyong said sternly, finally pulling out. “You said you race, I want to see you in action,” he added, and I bit my bottom lip due to stress. Seriously? Another test? He got to be kidding me. “Don’t worry; it’s a formality at this point.”

Honestly, his words didn’t cheer me up at all. I had stolen his car, and then I had been to Japan to steal his rival’s car. And now, he wanted me to pass another test. Come on!

“All you gotta do is to give me a lift back to my mansion,” Taeyong announced, somewhat excited to see my driving performance. “The route takes up to 20 minutes, so I’m gonna give you ten. It sounds fair, doesn’t it?”

“What about your car? I wouldn’t leave it here if I were you,” I remarked, trying to make out a logical answer. I wouldn’t leave my bike here, let alone a sports car, knowing how much crime was going on in this particular part of the city.

“Normally, I’d not, but you see… I caught a flat tire,” Taeyong explained, and I cocked my eyebrow, trying to see which tire was pierced. I didn’t notice any damage, but then, Taeyong pulled out his gun, shooting through the left back tire, making his point. “It was an exceptionally unfortunate accident,” he added, and I rolled my eyes at him.

He was a mad man.

“OK, fine, get in, loser,” I said, inviting him inside the car. Having sat comfortably and fastened our seatbelts, Taeyong put the location into the GPS. “Are you gonna time me?”

“Of course,” Taeyong answered, extending his arm, staring at his expensive wristwatch. “You have ten minutes, starting… now.”

Carefully, I chose one of my playlists before driving off.

It was a wild ride. I was driving twice as fast as the road signs were telling me to while singing my heart out to Backstreet Boys’ biggest hits “Everybody” and “I Want It That Way”. At this point, Taeyong was probably questioning whether it was safe to get in the car with me, or not. Though I encouraged him to join me in this carpool karaoke, yet he decided not to.

The navigation system was giving me weird directions, trying to lead me into congestion. Listening to my driver’s instinct, I sped through some self-discovered shortcuts. Judging my Taeyong’s expression, he had no idea what I was doing.

In the middle of “I Want It That Way”, I had to speed up even more. Each song is about four minutes long, so I still had about three minutes left to make it to the mansion, and though I seemed rather calm, I was out of my mind.

I’ve gone too far to lose right now. I couldn’t let this short race end up my flourishing career. I had stolen two cars within two weeks, and both vehicles belonged to the most dangerous men in their countries. I couldn’t lose now.

Breaking probably all traffic laws, I managed to reach Taeyong’s mansion before the boys got to finish the last chorus.

“You’re a triple threat, doll,” Taeyong said, and I wondered what the third admirable thing about me was. Undoubtedly, he was impressed with my theft and racing skills, yet I didn’t have a clue what was the third factor. “You’re officially one of us,” he added, and I smiled widely, ecstatic to finally hear his words of approval.

After so much testing, I finally proved my worth to him, and he took me under his wings.

Having pulled out his phone, Taeyong gave me a few instructions. “From this moment onward, Lucas is your direct superior, you gotta report everything back to him; I texted you the address. Be there first thing in the morning. Better be on time, Lucas doesn’t like it when people are late.”

“Thank you, Taeyong.”

“Don’t thank me, doll,” Taeyong replied, opening the doors, ready to exit the vehicle. “You have no idea what you’ve got yourself into.”

“I’ve got one more question…” I hollered, and Taeyong sat back in the passenger seat, waiting for my final inquiry. “What am I supposed to do with this car?” I asked, and Taeyong shrugged nonchalantly, suggesting it was not his problem.

“Get rid of it, obviously,” Taeyong answered, confirming my suspicions. “It belongs to Yuta, and the last thing I want is him realizing that I have it. Burn it down, dump it in the lake, I don’t care, just make sure it’s not gonna be found.”

“Great,” I whispered, losing enthusiasm with each voiced letter. It was problematic to bring it here, yet disposing of it was going to be even worse.

“Don’t lose your spirit, doll,” Taeyong added, leaning down towards me. With his right hand, he raised my chin and pressed a delicate peck against the skin of my cheek. “Good luck, make your daddy proud,” he whispered before exiting the car, shutting the doors close.

Though Taeyong was long gone, I was sitting in the vehicle, not leaving the driveway. What the hell just happened? Not only was he using this stupid nickname, but then he dropped that daddy bomb. I was not prepared for this.

#taeyong smut #nct smut #neosmutcollective #taeyong angst #nct angst #taeyong #nct #nct 127 #nct u #mafia taeyong #crime lord taeyong #lee taeyong #taeyong fanfiction #taeyong fanfic #taeyong story #mafia!taeyong #action #comedy

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hellomynameisbisexual · 4 years

Text

As a nonbinary bisexual, I’m no stranger to people erasing me and telling me that I’m something I’m not. With the rise of terms like “pansexuality” and “omnisexuality,” many people unfamiliar with the true nature of bisexuality now think that it’s transphobic or otherwise binary — some go so far as to claim bisexuals only believe in two genders.

People assert that, while bisexuality allegedly means “attraction to two genders,” pansexuality and omnisexuality, unlike bisexuality, denote “attraction to all genders.” It’s easy to think this way if only examining the terms at face value, but this comparison is an outright lie. Some others say that new labels were a response to transphobic exclusion from the bisexual community — this is similarly not the case. (I’ll be compiling a piece on the history of the “pansexual” label at a later date.) Using this “reasoning” to separate bisexuality from these other terms is woefully inaccurate and disrespectful to bisexual and transgender people.

While there are cissexist definitions of bisexuality, that holds true for “gay” and “straight,” too. Bisexuals have also described our orientation as attraction regardless of gender¹ for decades — at least fifty years or so — and we still do. Before words like “transgender” and “nonbinary” came about, bisexuals still often saw themselves as attracted to people beyond gender.

Androgyny and gender-nonconformity are also a staple in bisexual culture. Major bisexual icons throughout history explored and embraced it. Look at bisexual chic, especially the glam rock era. Some bisexual activists and organizations have historically included and allied with transgender and nonbinary people, and many of us are transgender or nonbinary ourselves.

Below are just a few examples of the hidden secret of our gender-expansiveness. (Including a quote here does not equal my approval of what was said. Keep in mind the times during which they were recorded as well as the footnotes.)

Sources without links can be downloaded for free from ZLibrary, borrowed from the Open Library, or found wherever you purchase or borrow physical books. Sources without a year next to them are those for which I could not find the publish date.

“…the very wealth and humanity of bisexuality itself: for to exclude from one’s love any entire group of human beings because of class, age, or race or religion, or sex, is surely to be poorer — deeply and systematically poorer.”

— Kate Miller (1974)

“It’s easier, I believe, for exclusive heterosexuals to tolerate (and that’s the word) exclusive homosexuals than [bisexuals] who, rejecting exclusivity, sleep with people not genders…”

— Martin Duberman (1974)

“Margaret Mead in her Redbook magazine column wrote an article titled ‘Bisexuality: What’s It All About?’ in which she cited examples of bisexuality from the distant past as well as recent times, commenting that writers, artists, and musicians especially ‘cultivated bisexuality out of a delight with personality, regardless of race or class or sex.’”

— Janet Bode, “From Myth to Maturation,” View From Another Closet: Exploring Bisexuality in Women (1976)

“Being bisexual does not mean they have sexual relations with both sexes but that they are capable of meaningful and intimate involvement with a person regardless of gender.”

— Janet Bode, “The Pressure Cooker,” View From Another Closet (1976)

“A sex-change night club queen has claimed she had a bizarre love affair with rock superstar David Bowie. Drag artiste Ronny Haag said she lived with the bisexual singer while he was making his new film, “Just a Gigolo,” in Berlin. […] Ronny says: ‘I am a real woman.’”

— Kenelm Jenour, “I Was Bowie’s She-Man!”, Daily Mirror (1978)²

“[John] reacted emotionally to both sexes with equal intensity. ‘I love people, regardless of their gender,’ he told me.”

— Charlotte Wolff, “Early Influences,” Bisexuality, a Study (1979)

“On Saturday, February 9, San Francisco’s Bisexual Center will conduct a Gender/Sexuality Workshop. ‘We will explore the interrelationships of gender feelings and sexual preference… We will discuss sexuality and whether we choose to play out the gender role assigned to us by society or whether we can shift to attitudes supposedly held by the opposite gender, if those feel good to us. We will deal with the issue of the TV/TS [transvestite/transsexual] in transition and how sexuality evolves as gender role changes. We will attempt to present a summary of the fragmented and confusing information on gender and sexuality.’”

— The Gateway (1980)

“J: Are we ever going to be able to define what bisexuality is?

S: Never completely. That’s just it — the variety of lifestyles that we see between us defies definition.”

— “Conversations,” Bi Women: The Newsletter of the Boston Bisexual Women’s Network (1984)

“Bisexuality, however, is a valid sexual experience. While many gays have experienced bisexuality as a stage in reaching their present identity, this should not invalidate the experience of people for whom sexual & affectional desire is not limited by gender. For in fact many bisexuals experience lesbianism or homosexuality as a stage in reaching their sexual identification.

— Megan Morrison, “What We Are Doing,” Bi Women (1984)

“In the midst of whatever hardships we [bisexuals] had encountered, this day we worked with each other to preserve our gift of loving people for who they are regardless of gender.”

— Elissa M., “Bi Conference,” Bi Women (1985)

“I believe that people fall in love with individuals, not with a sex… I believe most of us will end up acknowledging that we love certain people or, perhaps, certain kinds of people, and that gender need not be a significant category, though for some of us it may be.”

— Ruth Hubbard, “There Is No ‘Natural’ Human Sexuality, Bi Women (1986)

“I am bisexual because I am drawn to particular people regardless of gender. It doesn’t make me wishy-washy, confused, untrustworthy, or more sexually liberated. It makes me a bisexual.”

— Lani Ka��ahumanu, “The Bisexual Community: Are We Visible Yet?” (1987)

“To be bisexual is to have the potential to be open emotionally and sexually to people as people, regardless of their gender.”

— Office Pink Publishing, “Introduction,” Bisexual Lives (1988)

“We made signs and slashes. My favorite read, ‘When it’s love in all its splendor, it doesn’t matter what the gender.’”

— Beth Reba Weise, “Being There and Being Bi: The National March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights,” Bi Women (1988)

“…bisexual usually also implies that relations with gender minorities are possible.”

— Thomas Geller, Bisexuality: a Reader and Sourcebook (1990)

“Many objections have been raised to the use of [“bisexual”], the most common being that it emphasizes two things that, paradoxically, bisexuals are the least likely to be involved with: the dualistic separation of male and female in society, and the physical implications of the suffix ‘-sexual’.”

— Thomas Geller, Bisexuality: a Reader and Sourcebook (1990)

“Bisexuality is a whole, fluid identity. Do not assume that bisexuality is binary or duogamous in nature: that we have ‘two’ sides or that we must be involved simultaneously with both genders to be fulfilled human beings. In fact, don’t assume that there are only two genders.”

— The Bay Area Bisexual Network, “The 1990 Bisexual Manifesto,” Anything That Moves (1990)

“Bisexuality works to subvert the gender system and everything it upholds because it is not based on gender… Bisexuality subverts gender; bisexual liberation also depends on the subversion of gender categories.”

— Karin Baker and Helen Harrison, “Letters,” Bi Women (1990)

“I tell them, whether or not I use the word ‘bisexual,’ that I am proud of being able to express my feelings toward a person, regardless of gender, in whatever way I desire.”

— Naomi Tucker, “What’s in a Name?”, Bi Any Other Name (1991)³

“Some women who call themselves ‘bisexual’ insist that the gender of their lover is irrelevant to them, that they do not choose lovers on the basis of gender.”

— Marilyn Murphy, “Thinking About Bisexuality,” Bi Women (1991)

“Results supported the hypothesis that gender is not a critical variable in sexual attraction in bisexual individuals. Personality or physical dimensions not related to gender and interaction style were the salient characteristics on which preferred sexual partners were chosen, and there was minimal grid distance between preferred male and preferred female partners. These data support the argument that, for some bisexual individuals, sexual attraction is not gender-linked. […] …the dimensions which maximally separate most preferred sexual partners are not gender-based in seven of the nine grids.”

— M W Ross, J P Paul, “Beyond Gender: The Basis of Sexual Attraction in Bisexual Men and Women” (1992)

“[S]ome bisexuals say they are blind to the gender of their potential lovers and that they love people as people… For the first group, a dichotomy of genders between which to choose doesn’t seem to exist[.]”

— Kathleen Bennett, “Feminist Bisexuality, a Both/And Option for an Either/Or World,” Closer to Home: Bisexuality and Feminism (1992)

“The expressed desires of [female bisexual] respondents differed in many cases from their experience. 37 respondents preferred women as sexual partners; 9 preferred men. 21 women had no preference, and 35 said they preferred sex with particular individuals, regardless of gender.”

— Sue George, “Living as bisexual,” Women and Bisexuality (1993)

“Who is this group for exactly? Anyone who identifies as bisexual or thinks they are attracted to or interested in all genders… This newly formed [support] group is to create a supportive, safe environment for people who are questioning their sexual orientation and think they may be bisexual.”

— “Coming Out as Bisexual,” Bi Women (1994)

“It is logical and necessary for bisexuals to recognize the importance of gender politics — not just because transsexuals, cross-dressers, and other transgender people are often assumed to be bisexual… […] I have talked to the bisexual practicers of pre-op transsexuals who feel they have the best of both worlds because their lover embodies woman and man together.² Is that not a connection between bisexuality and transgenderism? […] Some of us are bisexual because we do not pay much attention to the gender of our attractions; some of us are bisexual because we do see tremendous gender differences and want to experience them all. […] With respect to our integrity as bisexuals, it is our responsibility to include transgendered people in our language, in our communities, in our politics, and in our lives.”

— Naomi Tucker, “The Natural Next Step,” Bisexual Politics: Theories, Queries, and Visions (1995)

“The first wave of people who started the Bi Center were political radicals and highly motivated people. The group was based on inclusivity… for example, in the women’s groups, anybody who identified as a woman had the right to be there, so a lot of transgender people started coming to the Bi Center.”

— Naomi Tucker, “Bay Area Bisexual History: An Interview with David Lourea,” Bisexual Politics (1995)

“[B]isexual consciousness, because of its amorphous quality and inclusionary nature, posed a fundamental threat to the dualistic and exclusionary thought patterns which were — and still are — tenaciously held by both the gay liberation leadership and its enemies.”

— Stephen Donaldson, “The Bisexual Movement’s Beginnings in the 70s,” Bisexual Politics (1995)

“If anything, being bi has made me hyper-aware of the sexual differences between [men and women]. And I still get hot for both. But I do experience something that is similar to gender blindness. It’s this: being bisexual means I could potentially find myself sexually attracted to anybody. Therefore, as a bisexual, I don’t make the distinction that monosexuals do between the gender you fuck and the gender you don’t.”

— Greta Christina, “Bi Sexuality,” Bisexual Politics (1995)

“[A]nd too / I am bisexual / in my history / in my capacity / in my fantasies / in my abilities / in my love for beautiful people / regardless of gender.”

— Dajenya, “Bisexual Lesbian,” Bisexual Politics (1995)

“The bisexual community should be a place where lines are erased. Bisexuality dismisses, disproves, and defies dichotomies. It connotes a loss of rigidity and absolutes. It is an inclusive term. […] Despite how we choose to identify ourselves, the bisexual community still seems a logical place for transsexuals to find a home and a voice. Bisexuals need to educate themselves on transgender issues. At the same time, bisexuals should be doing education and outreach to the transsexual community, offering transsexuals an arena to further explore their sexualities and choices. Such outreach would also help break down gender barriers and misconceptions within the bisexual community itself. […] If the bisexual community turns its back on transsexuals, it is essentially turning its back on itself.”

— K. Martin-Damon, “Essay for the Inclusion of Transsexuals,” Bisexual Politics (1995)

“As bisexuals, we are necessarily prompted to come up with non-binary ways of thinking about sexual orientation. For many of us, this has also prompted a move toward non-binary ways of thinking about sex and gender.”

— Rebecca Kaplan, “Your Fence Is Sitting on Me: The Hazards of Binary Thinking,” Bisexual Politics (1995)

“And so we love each other and wish love for each other, regardless (to the extent possible) of gender and sex.”

— Oma Izakson, “If Half of You Dodges a Bullet, All of You Ends Up Dead,” Bisexual Politics (1995)

“Similarly, the modern bisexual movement has dissolved the strict dichotomy between ‘gay’ and ‘straight’ (without invalidating our homosexual or heterosexual friends and lovers.) We have insisted on our desire and freedom to love people of all genders.”

— Sunfrog, “Pansies Against Patriarchy,” Bisexual Politics (1995)

“In the bisexual movement as a whole, transgendered individuals are celebrated not only as an aspect of the diversity of the bisexual community, but because, like bisexuals, they do not fit neatly into dichotomous categories. Jim Frazin wrote that ‘the construction and destruction of gender’ is a subject of mutual interest to bisexuals and transsexuals who are, therefore, natural allies.”

— Paula C. Rust, Bisexuality and the Challenge to Lesbian Politics: Sex, Loyalty, and Revolution (1995)

“Is bisexuality even about gender at all? ‘I don’t desire a gender,’ 25[-]year-old Matthew Ehrlich says.”

— Deborah Block-Schwenk, “Newsweek Comes Out as Supportive,” Bi Women (1995)

“One woman expressed the desire to elide categorical differences by reporting that she finds ‘relationships with men and women to be quite similar — the differences are in the individuals, not in their sex.’ Others expressed their ideal as choosing partners ‘regardless of gender…’”

— Amber Ault, Ambiguous Identity in an Unambiguous Sex/Gender Structure: The Case of Bisexual Women (1996)

“Most conceptual models of bisexuality explain it in terms of conflictual or confused identity development, [r-slur] sexual development, or a defence against ‘true’ heterosexuality or homosexuality. It has been suggested, however, that some individuals can eroticize more than one love object regardless of gender, that sexual patterns could be more variable and fluid than theoretical notions tend to allow, and that sexual desire may not be as fixed and static in individuals as is assumed by ‘essential’ sexual categories and identities.”

— E.Antonio de Moya and Rafael García, “AIDS and the Enigma of Bisexuality in the Dominican Republic,” Bisexualities and AIDS: International Perspectives (1996)

“I’m bi. That simply means I can be attracted to a person without consideration of their gender.”

— E. Grace Noonan, “Out on the Job: DEC Open to Bi Concerns,” Bi Women (1996)

“BiCon should accept transgender people as being on their chosen gender, this includes any single gender events.”

— BiCon Guidelines (1998)⁴

“The probability is that your relationship is based on, or has nestled itself into something based more on the relationship between two identities than on the relationship between two people. That’s what we’re taught: man/man, woman/woman, woman/man, top/bottom, butch/femme, man/woman/man, etc. We’re never taught person/person. That’s what the bisexual movement has been trying to teach us. We’re never taught that, so we fall into the trap of ‘you don’t love me, you love my identity.’”

— Kate Bornstein, My Gender Workbook (1998)

“Transsexuality and bisexuality both occupy heretical thresholds of human experience. We confound, illuminate and explore border regions. We challenge because we appear to break inviolable laws. Laws that feel ‘natural.’ And quite possibly, since we are not the norm or even average, it is likely that one function we have is to subvert those norms or laws; to break down the sleepy and unimaginative law of averages.”

— Max Wolf Valerio, “The Joker Is Wild: Changing Sex + Other Crimes of Passion,” Anything That Moves (1998)

“From the earliest years of the bi community, significant numbers of TV/TS and transgender people have always been involved with it. The bi community served as a kind of refuge for people who felt excluded from the established gay and lesbian communities.”

— Kevin Lano, “Bisexuality and Transgenderism,” Anything That Moves (1998)

“A large group of bisexual women reported in a Ms. magazine article that when they fell in love it was with a person rather than a gender…”

— Betty Fairchild and Nancy Hayward, “What is Gay?”, Now that You Know: A Parents’ Guide to Understanding Their Gay and Lesbian Children (1998)

“Over the past fifteen years, however, [one Caucasian man] has realized that he is ‘attracted to people — not their sexual identity’ and no longer cares whether his partners are male or female. He has kept his Bi identity and now uses it to refer to his attraction to people regardless of their gender.”

— Paula C. Rust, “Sexual Identity and Bisexual Identities,” Queer Studies: A Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Anthology (1998)

“Bisexual — being emotionally and physically attracted to all genders.”

— The Gay, Lesbian, and Straight Education Network, “Out of the Past: Teacher’s Guide” (1999)

“There were a lot of transvestites and transsexuals who came to [the San Francisco Bisexual Center in the 1970s], because they were not going to be turned away because of the way they dressed.”

— David Lourea, “Bisexual Histories in San Francisco in the 1970s and Early 1980s,” 2000 Journal of Bisexuality

“Respondent #658 said that both are irrelevant; ‘who I am sexually attracted to has nothing to do with their sex/gender,’ whereas Respondent #418 focuses specifically on the irrelevance of sex: I find myself attracted to either men or women. The outside appendages are rather immaterial, as it is the inner being I am attracted to. […] Respondent #495 recalled that “the best definition I’ve ever heard is someone who is attracted to people & gender/sex is not an issue or factor in that attraction.” […] As Respondent #269 put it, “I do not exclude a person from consideration as a possible love interest on the basis of sex/gender.” […] For most individuals who call themselves bisexual, bisexual identity reflects feelings of attraction, sexual and otherwise, toward women and men or toward other people regardless of their gender.”

— Paula C. Rust, “Two Many and Not Enough: The Meanings of Bisexual Identities,” 2000 Journal of Bisexuality

“Giovanni’s distinction between what he wants and who he wants resonates with the language of many of today’s bisexuals, who insist that they fall in love with a person, not a gender.”

— Marjorie Garber, Bisexuality and the Eroticism of Everyday Life (2000)

“The message of bisexuality — that people are more than their gender; that we accept all people, regardless of Kinsey scale rating; that we embrace people regardless of age, weight, clothing, hair style, gender expression, race, religion and actually celebrate our diversity — that message is my gospel. I travel, write, do web sites — all to let people know that the bisexual community will accept you, will let you be who you are, and will not expect you to fit in a neat little gender/sexuality box.”

— Wendy Curry, “Celebrating Bisexuality,” Bi Women (2000)

“But really, just like I can’t believe in the heterosexist binary gender system, I have difficulty accepting wholeheartedly any one spiritual tradition.”

— Anonymous, “A Methodical Awakening,” Bi Women (2002)

“But there are also many bis, such as myself, for whom gender has no place in the list of things that attract them to a person. For instance, I like people who are good listeners, who understand me and have interests similar to mine, and I am attracted to people with a little padding here and there, who have fair skin and dark hair (although I’m pretty flexible when it comes to looks). ‘Male’ or ‘female’ are not anywhere to be found in the list of qualities I find attractive.”

— Karin Baker, “Bisexual Basics,” Solidarity-us.org (2002)

“Bisexual: A person who is attracted to people regardless of gender (a person does not have to have a relationship to be bisexual!)”

— Bowling Green State University, “Queer Glossary” (2003)

“The bisexual community seems to be disappearing. Not that there won’t always be people around who like to have sex with people of all genders, the community, as I’ve discussed in this book, is a different matter altogether.”

— William Burleson, Bi America: Myths, Truths, and Struggles of an Invisible Community (2005)

“Although bisexuals in general may or may not be more enlightened about gender issues, there has been, and continues to be, in most places around the country a strong connection between the transgender and the bisexual communities. Indeed, the two communities have been strong allies. Why is this? One reason certainly is, as I mentioned earlier, the significant number of people who are both bisexual and transgender.”

— William Burleson, Bi America: Myths, Truths, and Struggles of an Invisible Community (2005)

“Amy: […] But my friend’s question got me thinking: given the fact that so many bisexual friends and community members reject the idea that gender has to have a relation to attraction and behavior, why should I reject the bi label? Why did her question even come up? How relevant is gender to the concept of bisexuality? If bisexuals like me don’t care about gender the way monosexuals do, why would my identity label exclude my lovers’ gender variations?

Kim: …Like you, I’m a bi person who sees gender as fluid rather than fixed or dichotomous… I’ve also felt outside pressure to reject my bi identity based on the idea that it perpetuates the gender binary: woman/man. However, this idea reduces bisexual to ‘bi’ and ‘sexual’ and disregards the fact that it represents a history, a community, a substantial body of writing, and the right of the bisexual community to define ‘bisexuality’ on its own terms. Most importantly, this idea disregards how vital these things are for countless bi people. Identifying as bi doesn’t inherently mean anything, and it definitely doesn’t mean a person only recognizes two genders. However, to assume that bi-identified people exclude transgender, gender nonconforming (GNC), and genderqueer people also assumes they are not trans, GNC, or genderqueer themselves, when in fact, many are.”

— Kim Westrick and Amy Andre, “Semantic Wars,” Bi Women (2009)

“The [intracommunity biphobia] problem is very serious, because bisexuals, along with trans folks, are the rejects among rejects, that is to say, those who suffer from discrimination (gays and lesbians) discriminate against bis and trans folks. It is for this reason, at least here in Mexico City, that Opción Bi allies itself with transsexuals, transgender people and transvestites, and works together with them whenever possible. It seems to me we are closer to the trans communities than to the lesbian and gay ones.”

— Robyn Ochs, “Bis Around the World: Myriam Brito, Mexican City,” Bi Women (2009)

“I introduce myself as bisexual, because I am attracted to people, across gender lines, and ‘bisexual’ comes closest to explaining that.”

— B.J. Epstein, “Bye Bi Labels,” Bi Women (2009)

“Bisexuality is not some kind of middle-ground between heterosexuality and homosexuality; rather I imagine it as a way to erode the fixed systems of gender and sexual identity which always result in guilt, fear, lies[,] and discrimination.”

— Carlos Iván Suárez García, “What Is Bisexuality?”, Getting Bi: Voices of Bisexuals Around the World, Second Edition (2009)⁵

“To me, bisexuality is a matter of loving and accepting everyone equally — seeing the beauty in the human soul, rather than in the shell that houses it. Being transgender, I know firsthand that love between two people can transcend — even embrace — what society regards as taboo. Bisexuality is a mindset of revolution, a mindset of change. We’re creating a brave new world of acceptance and love for all people, of all the myriad genders and methods of sexual expression that this world contains.

— Jessica, “What Is Bisexuality?”, Getting Bi: Voices of Bisexuals Around the World, Second Edition (2009)

“Bisexuality (whatever that means) for me is about the ability to relate to all people at a deep emotional level. It is an openness of the heart. It is the absence of limits, especially those that are defined by the other person’s sex.”

— Andrea Toselli, “Coming Out Bisexual,” Getting Bi: Voices of Bisexuals Around the World, Second Edition (2009)

“Considering my personal preferences, calling myself ‘bisexual’ covers a wider territory regarding my capacity to fall in love and to share the life of a couple with another person without taking into consideration questions of gender.”

— Aida, “Why Bi?”, Getting Bi: Voices of Bisexuals Around the World, Second Edition (2009)

“I’m sure I’m bisexual because I can’t ignore the allure and loveliness of a wide spectrum of people — differentiating by gender never seemed attractive or even logical to me. […] For me bisexuality means I don’t stop attraction, caring or relationship potential based on gender; I can have sex, flirtation or warm ongoing love with anyone (not everyone, okay? That part’s a myth). […] And we have enough trouble splitting the human race into two halves, assigning mandatory characteristics, and then torturing people to fill arbitrary roles — I consider that a wrong and inaccurate way to understand human potential, and that’s also why I’m bi. Men and women are different? Honey, everyone I’ve ever met has been different. I think being bisexual lets me see each person as an individual.”

— Carol Queen, “Why Bi?”, Getting Bi: Voices of Bisexuals Around the World, Second Edition (2009)

“But to hell with respectability: the real point about being bisexual, a friend pointed out, is that you’re asking someone other than ‘What sex is this person?’”

— Tom Robinson, “Bisexual Community,” Getting Bi: Voices of Bisexuals Around the World, Second Edition (2009)

“Being bisexual… allows us to love each other regardless of our gender…”

— Jorge Pérez Castiñeira, “Bisexual Community,” Getting Bi: Voices of Bisexuals Around the World, Second Edition (2009)

“‘Hello, my name is Jaqueline Applebee… if you want to see me later, or just want a kiss, let me know as I’m bisexual, and you’re all gorgeous!’ […] I have loved men, women, and those who don’t identify with any gender.”

— Jaqueline Applebee, “Bisexual Community,” Getting Bi: Voices of Bisexuals Around the World, Second Edition (2009)

“[T]here’s nothing binary about bisexuals. Bi is just a provisional term reminding us, however awkwardly, that when it comes to loving, family and tribe, margins and middle intertwine.”

— Loraine Hutchins, “Bisexual Politics,” Getting Bi: Voices of Bisexuals Around the World, Second Edition (2009)

“My bi identity is not about who I am having sex with; it is not about the genitals of my past, current, or future lovers; it is not about choosing potential partners or excluding partners based on what is between their legs. It is about potential — the potential to love, to be attracted to, to be intimate with, share a life with a person because of who they are. I see a person, not a gender… I demand to be free to legally marry anyone without regard to their gender.”

— Rifka Reichler, “Bisexual Politics,” Getting Bi: Voices of Bisexuals Around the World, Second Edition (2009)

“To me, being bisexual means having a sexuality that isn’t limited by the sex or gender of the people you are attracted to. You just recognize that you can be attracted to a person for very individual reasons.”

— Deb Morley, “Bi of the Month: An Interview with Ellyn Ruthstorm,” Bi Women (2010)

“Q: Which gender person does a bisexual love? A: Any gender she wants.”

— Marcia Deihl, “Do Clothes Make the Woman?”, Bi Women (2010)

“While the bisexual manifesto being written following a workshop at London BiCon is still being worked on, the tweeters set to work on a shorter, snappier alternative… ‘Love is about what’s in your hearts, not your underwear.’ […] ‘We aren’t more confused, greedy, indecisive or lustful than anyone else. We like people based on personality not gender.’ ‘[W]e believe that lust is more important than anatomy.’ ‘What you have between your legs doesn’t matter. What you have between your ears does[.]’”

— Jen Yockney, “#bisexualmanifesto,” Bi Community News (2010)

“As briefly mentioned above and interlinked with the notion of ‘importance of individuality’, the binary concepts of gender and the stereotypes surrounding these is a notion which each of the [bisexual] women interviewed fundamentally reject. The participants here were keen to distance themselves and their experiences of romantic relationships from any notion of hetero-normative gender boundaries, although they did agree that unfortunately these gender boundaries still exist in contemporary society. Most participants do not link gender boundaries with concepts of romantic love; it was stated that although sometimes gender boundaries can be seen in romantic relationships this is primarily down to socialisation and the unnecessary importance that hetero-normative society places on gender roles. Therefore, gender boundaries seen in romantic relationships are not constrained by gender but instead are a product of gendered socialisation. For these women, claiming their bisexual identity and their romantic relationships illustrates the futility of binary concepts of gender as it is about individual preference or style rather than gendered norms values and expectations.”

— Emma Smith, “Bisexuality, Gender & Romantic Relationships,” Bi Community News (2012)

“And anyway, I’m generally not sexually attracted to men or women. I’m into all sorts of things, but a person being a man or a woman isn’t a turn-on. Certainly not in the same way it’s a turn off to a gay or straight person. I’m never going to think “Wow, Zie is really sexy, shame they’re a ____” because what turns me off isn’t gender.”

— Marcus, “What makes a bisexual?”, Bi Community News (2012)

“I am bisexual. That does not depend on my dating experience or my attraction specifications. It is not affected by my dislike for genitals (of any shape). All it describes is how gender affects attraction for me: it doesn’t. I am attracted to people regardless of gender, and I am bisexual.”

— Emma Jones, “Not Like the Others,” Bi Women (2013)

“I’m generally okay with ‘attraction to more than one gender’ [as a definition of ‘bisexuality’]. I think that the ‘more than’ part is important because there are definitely more than two genders. Some people like the definition ‘attraction regardless of gender’ and I like that too because it suggests that things other than gender can be equally, or more, important in who we are attracted to. I like to question why our idea of sexuality is so bound up with gender of partners. Why not encompass other aspects such as the roles we like to take sexually, or how active or passive we like to be, or what practices we enjoy? Why is our gender, and the gender of our partners, seen as such a vital part of who we are?”

— Robyn Ochs, “Around the World: Meg Barker,” Bi Women (2013)

“It may sound crazy but I’d never thought that carefully about the ‘bi’ part of the word meaning ‘two’. I’d always understood bisexuality to mean what Bobbie Petford reports as the preferred definition from within the UK bi communities: changeable ‘sexual and emotional attraction to people of any sex, where gender may not be a defining factor’. […] Participants in the BiCon discussion rejected the ‘you are a boy or you are a girl…binary’ (Lanei), all arguing that they were not straightforwardly ‘masculine’ or ‘feminine’.

[…] Because they discarded the dichotomous understanding of gender, participants rejected the ideas that they were attracted to ‘both’ men and women, arguing that they did not perceive gender as the defining feature in their attraction. Kim said: I don’t think actually gender is that relevant…gender is like eye colour, and I notice it sometimes, and sometimes it can be a bit of a feature it’s like “oo, that’s nice” and I have some sorts of gender types, but it’s about as important as something like eye colour.

[…] As I came to realise that you can actually be bisexual…your desires and your attractions can wax and wane as time goes on, I realised that there was a parallel to gender: you don’t have to clearly define, you don’t have to cast off the male to be female and vice versa. Despite the fact that the conventional definition of the word ‘bisexual’ could be seen as perpetuating a dichotomous concept of gender, being attracted to both sexes, Georgina concluded that it could challenge conventional understandings of gender…”

— “Bisexuality & Gender,” Bi Community News (2014)

“My fellow bisexuals… I stand before you as an unapologetic, outspoken, bisexual activist who has intimately loved women, men and transgender persons throughout my life span of 72 years…”

— ABilly S. Jones-Hennin, “If Loving You is Wrong, Then I Don’t Want to be Right,” Bisexual Organizing Project (2014)

“Coming out as bisexual in the late 80s, when I first came across the label pansexual it didn’t involve any kind of gender nuance: it was how someone explained their bisexuality feeling interwoven with their Pagan beliefs. Back then the ‘bi’ in bisexual didn’t get talked about as having some great limiting weight of ‘two’, it was an “and” in a world that saw things as strictly either/or. As I was pushing at boundaries of discussion around gender and sexuality with people in the 90s I’d sometimes quip that I was ‘bisexual, I just haven’t decided which two genders yet’. When I started to come across people saying that bi was limiting because it meant two, a bit of me did think: oh lord, were they taking me seriously?”

— Jen, “Bi or Pan?”, Bi Community News (2015)

“Pansexuality is sometimes defined as attraction to people of all genders, which is also the experience of many bisexual people. More often than not, however, people define their pansexuality in relation to bisexuality. In response to the question: ‘What does pansexual mean?’ I’ve seen countless people reply: ‘I’m attracted to people of more than two genders. Not bisexual.’ The implication is that bisexual means binary attraction: men and women only.

Since I came out in the late 90s, I haven’t seen one bi activist organisation define bisexuality as attraction solely to men and women. Bi and trans* issues began to grow in recognition at the same time. When I use ‘bi’ to refer to two types of attraction, I mean attraction to people of my gender and attraction to people of other genders. […] …it’s so upsetting to see internalised biphobia leading many pansexuals, many of whom until recently identified as bisexual, telling us we’re still not queer enough. Gay and straight people aren’t being pressurised into giving up the language they use to describe their attractions and neither should they be. As usual it’s only bisexuals being shamed into erasing our identities and our history.

The most frustrating thing to me about the current bi vs pan discourse is that it’s framed as a cisgender vs genderqueer debate. This has never been the case. In reality, many genderqueer people identify as bisexual… To say bisexuality is binary erases the identities of these revolutionary bisexual genderqueer activists, and it erases the identity of every marginalised genderqueer bisexual they’re fighting for.”

— Sali, “Bi or Pan?”, Bi Community News (2015)

“Currently some pansexual people argue that bi is ‘too binary’ and that bisexuals are focused on conventional male/female gender expressions only. This is then taken to mean that bisexuals are more transphobic, whereas pansexuals aren’t locked into a binary so they are open to all gender expressions. However we believe this is not the case since bisexuals: ‘… do not comply with our society’s imposed framework of attraction, we must consciously construct our own framework and examine how and why we are attracted (or not) to others. This process automatically acknowledges the artificiality of the gender binary and gendered norms and expectations for behavior. Indeed, the mere act of explaining our definition of bisexual to a nonbisexual person requires us to address the falsity of the gender binary head on.’

We do not deny that in actuality some bisexuals are too bound by traditional binary gender assumptions, just as many gay, lesbian, and heterosexual, and some trans people are too. Bisexuals, however, have been in the forefront of exploring desire and connection beyond sex and gender. When anyone accuses bisexuals, uniquely, as more binary and more transphobic than other identity groups, such targeting is not only inappropriate but is also rooted in biphobia — a fear and hatred of bi people for who we are and how we love.

Confusing the issue are the definitions in resource glossaries defining bisexual, most surprisingly in newly released books including textbooks. [...] These definitions arbitrarily define bisexual in a binary way and then present pansexual as a non-binary alternative. This opens the doorway to a judgment that pansexual identity is superior to bisexual identity because it ‘opens possibilities’ and is a ‘more fluid and much broader form of sexual orientation’. This judgmental conclusion is unacceptable and dangerous as it lends itself to perpetuating bisexual erasure. The actual lived non-binary history of the bisexual community and movement and the inclusive nature and community spirit of bisexuals are eradicated when a binary interpretation of our name for ourselves is arbitrarily assumed.”

— Lani Ka’ahumanu and Loraine Hutchins, “Bi Organizing Since 1991,” Bi Any Other Name (New 25th Anniversary Edition) (2015)

“Herself a bisexual woman, [Nan Goldin] found that drag queens, to her a third gender, were perfect companions. By transgressing the bounds of the binary, they had created identities that were infinitely more meaningful.”

— Alicia Diane Ridout, “Gender Euphoria: Photography, Fashion, and Gender Nonconformity in The East Village” (2015)

“It is the job of those of us with links to children to continue to promote the language of bisexuality and validity of attraction to all genders — especially when that attraction changes over time.”

— Bethan, “Practical Bi Awareness: Teaching and LGBT,” Bi Community News (2016)

“The persistent use of the Kinsey Scale is another issue. Originally asking about the genders of people you have had sex with, more recently it gets deployed in more sophisticated ways which distinguish between sexual attraction, romantic attraction, and sexual activity. Nonetheless it is woefully inadequate in accounting for attraction to genders other than male and female — a key part of many bisexual people’s experience.”

— Milena Popova, “Scrap the Kinsey Scale!”, Bi Community News (2016)

“Robyn Ochs states where the EuroBiCon also stands for: bisexuality goes beyond the binary gender thinking. There are more genders than the obsolete idea of two: male and female.”

— Erwin, “Robyn Ochs: ‘Bisexuality goes beyond the binary gender thinking’,” European Bisexual Conference (2016)

“I call myself bisexual because it includes attraction to all genders (same as mine; different from mine).”

— Rev. Francesca Bongiorno Fortunato, “Label Me With a B,” Bi Women Quarterly (2016)

“Loving a person rather than a man or a woman: this is Runa Wehrli’s philosophy. At 18, she defines herself as bisexual and speaks about it openly. […] She believes that love should not be confined by the barriers put up by society. ‘I fall in love with a person and not a gender,’ she says. […] Now single and just out of high school, she is leaving the door open to love, while still refusing to give it a gender.”

— Katy Romy, “‘I fall in love with a person and not a gender’,” Swissinfo (2017)

“I’m bisexual so I can’t really come out as gay. When I’m gay I’m very gay. And when I’m with men then, you know, I’m with men. I don’t fall in love with people because of their gender.”

— Nan Goldin for Sleek Magazine (2017)

“I use the word bisexual — a lot / I’ve marched in the Pride parade with the Toronto Bisexual Network / I post Bi pride & Bi awareness articles all over social media / I’m seeking out dates of any and all genders / (not to prove anything to anyone, but simply because I want to)

— D’Arcy L. J. White, “Coming Out as Bisexual,” Bi Women Quarterly (2017)

“BISEXUAL — Someone who is attracted to more than one gender, someone who is attracted to two or more genders, someone who is attracted to the same and other genders, or someone who is attracted to people regardless of their gender. […] Other words with the same definition of bisexual, though they have different connotations, are ‘pansexual,’ ‘polysexual,’ and ‘omnisexual.’”

— Morgan Lev Edward Holleb, The A-Z of Gender and Sexuality: From Ace to Ze (2018)

“In the heat of July [2009], and finally equipped with a word for “attracted to people regardless of gender”, I bounded out of Brighton station with that same best friend. At the time, I didn’t know that we bisexuals have our own flag…”

— Lois Shearing, “Why London Pride’s first bi pride float was so important,” The Queerness (2018)

“Being bisexual does not assume people are only attracted to just two genders. Bisexuality can be limitless for many and pay no regard to the sex or gender of a person.”

— “The Bi+ Manifesto” (2018)

“I realized I was bisexual at age fifteen, but although I am attracted to folks of any gender, I’ve always had a preference for men.”

— Mark Mulligan, “Fight and Flight: ‘Butch Flight,’ Trans Men, and the Elusive Question of Authenticity,” Nursing Clio (2018)

“Bisexuality just became, to me, about that openness — that openness to anything, and any potential to any type of relationship, regardless of gender. Gender is no longer a disqualifier for me. It’s about the person.”

— Rob Cohen, “Where Are All the Bi Guys?,” Two Bi Guys (2019)

“Oh no, Mom. I’m not a lesbian. Actually, I’m bisexual. That means that gender doesn’t determine whom I’m attracted to.”

— Annie Bliss, “Older and Younger,” Bi Women Quarterly (2019)

“A bisexual woman, for example, may have sex with, date or marry another woman, a man or someone who is non-binary. […] If you think you might be bisexual, try asking yourself these questions: …Can I picture myself dating, having sex with, or being married to any gender/sex?”

— “I Think I Might Be Bisexual,” Advocates for Youth

“Although it’s true that people have all kinds of different attractions to different kinds of people, assuming that all bisexuals are never attracted to trans or genderqueer folk is harmful, not only to bi individuals, but to trans and genderqueer individuals who choose to label themselves as bi.”

— “Labels,” Bisexual Resource Center

“My own understanding of bisexuality has changed dramatically over the years. I used to define bisexuality as ‘the potential to be attracted to people regardless of their gender.’ […] Alberto is attracted to the poles, to super-masculine guys and super-feminine girls. Others are attracted to masculinity and/or femininity, regardless of a person’s sex. Some of us who identify as bisexual are in fact ‘gender-blind.’ For others — in fact for me — it’s androgyny or the blending of genders that compels.”

— Robin Ochs, “What Does It Mean to Be Bi+?”, Bisexual Resource Center

“… bisexual people are those for whom gender is not the first criteria in determining attraction.”

— Illinois Department of Public Health, “Sexual Orientation, Gender Identity and Youth Suicide”

“Bisexuality is sexual/romantic attraction to people regardless of sex or gender.”

— “Bisexual FAQ,” Kvartir

“Please also note that attraction to both same and different means attraction to all. Bisexuality is inherently inclusive of everyone, regardless of sex or gender.

In everyday language, depending on the speaker’s culture, background, and politics, that translates into a variety of everyday definitions such as:

Attraction to men and women

Attraction to all sexes or genders

Attraction to same and other genders

Love beyond gender

Attraction regardless of sex or gender”

— American Institute of Bisexuality, “What Is Bisexuality?,” Bi.org

“This idea [that bisexuality reinforces a false gender binary] has its roots in the anti-science, anti-Enlightenment philosophy that has ironically found a home within many Queer Studies departments at universities across the Anglophone world. […] Bisexuality is an orientation for which sex and gender are not a boundary to attraction… Over time, our society’s concept of human sex and gender may well change. For bis, people for whom sex/gender is already not a boundary, any such change would have little effect.”

— American Institute of Bisexuality, “Questions,” Bi.org

Gender-expansive (or -fluid, or -blind) descriptions of bisexuality are nothing new — and with the exception of the Getting Bi quotes, the above compilation is just what I was able to find online. Arguably, the concept of excluding genders never even crossed the mind of many twentieth-century bisexuals — not just because “nonbinary genders hadn’t entered the mainstream” — but simply because many bisexuals understand bisexuality itself as “beyond” gender. Go to any bisexual organization and they’ll tell you bisexuality is broad and can include anyone.

Of course, the above quotes do not reflect the beliefs of every bisexual — no single quote can do that. These quotes were certainly not the only variation of bisexual-given definitions of bisexuality. I’m only pointing out that the “both” descriptions are similarly not the only ones that exist.

Even then, before wider knowledge of and language for nonbinary identities, attraction to “both” men and women was attraction regardless of gender. “Both” does not purposefully keep anyone out; it only (mistakenly) assumes how many groups there are. Gender not being a make-or-break, or not caring about gender in general, doesn’t depend on how many genders there are.⁶

Not to mention, all sexualities automatically include some nonbinary people — “nonbinary” isn’t merely a third gender. The mere notion that someone could just “not be attracted” to nonbinary people as a group completely misunderstands nonbinary identity.

Some bisexuals “see a person, not a gender,” while others, like me, see a person with a gender (that doesn’t stop us from finding them attractive), if they have one. Being bisexual has made me see people in more gender-neutral ways. Our experiences are far too vast to pin down, and there’s immense beauty in that vagueness.

Also, while bisexual activism and transgender activism have frequently overlapped, plenty of cisgender bisexuals are transphobic. But this is because all sexualities have transphobes. Even if we coined a sexual identity that only transgender people could use, some identifying with it would still likely be transphobes. Why allow transphobic bisexuals to erase the attitudes of all the bisexuals before and after them?

I find it incredibly odd that people now task bisexuals with proving our inclusivity considering that, for decades, we never had to. We had always (i.e., consistently throughout history, not as in every bisexual) been warping gender norms, but it was never to debunk a myth or make ourselves look good; it was just how we were. That hasn’t changed.

One of the predominant stereotypes is still that we’re indiscriminate sluts willing to sleep with anyone, but somehow there’s a new wave of folks insisting that we require our partners to obey the gender binary. I have a severely hard time believing this conclusion is based on reality. Almost all attempts to redefine bisexuality as binary come from people who don’t identify as such.

Imagine if we performed this revisionism with the word “gay.” For this example, I’ll use “gay” to describe gay men in particular.

“Gay” only means exclusive attraction to men, so the people who use that word only like cisgender men. I’m androsexual, which means I like cisgender, transgender, and nonbinary men.

Doesn’t that sound ridiculous? So why do we only apply this rhetoric to bisexuals? (It couldn’t possibly be because of biphobia, could it?)

While it’s obviously unrealistic to say that no bisexual person has ever been transphobic, bisexual orientation is not, and never has been, about exclusion. Considering that bisexual activists were seldom (if ever) focused on the prefix in the word “bisexual,” this recent fixation people have on trying to find a way to use “two” in its definition is misguided.

Begging to differ is ignorant and arrogant, contradicting not only history but many current bisexuals who understand bisexuality as all-encompassing. Acting like it’s uniquely binary or inherently limited in any way is indisputably false and biphobic. Please stop speaking over us and erasing our history. It, like the bisexual community itself, is bountiful, beautiful, and never going away.

Here’s one final quote that, while a bit unrelated to the rest, I particularly enjoy:

“I understand bisexuality not as a mixture of homosexuality and heterosexuality as Kinsey did, nor as a particular sexuality on an equal footing with homosexuality and heterosexuality, but as a holistic view of human sexuality, in which all aspects related to human sexuality are taken into account.”

— Miguel Obradors-Campos, “Deconstructing Biphobia” (2011)

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caxsthetic · 4 years

Text

Behind Those Eyes

Bokuto Koutarou x F!Reader

Hurtful Truth: Sometimes, people just realised things when it was all too late.

Pt. 3 < Bonus Chapter

The arena was so packed today. Not even one seat was empty. As always, Bokuto loves the loud and how all spectators could see him. But something, something is missing on today’s match. His golden eyes were practically looking at where you and his best friend usually sat. Though it was replaced by an unknown person right now.

He was pouting the whole time. No, it’s not his usual dejected mode like he always has ever since high school days. The truth is that he never falls into that mode since one particular time. Bokuto Koutarou is a grown man. It’s been twenty-eight years he breathes the oxygen in this world, he started to change, for the better.

His finger was fiddling around a rose gold wedding ring. The inside was written with one sentences that he always loves, always be there. Every time he missed you, he will remember that you never actually leave his side. Even if your figure were not there, your heart would accompany him with every step he took.

“Hey, Bokkun.” The setter of his team called him out of his trance, “Come on, the second set will begin.” Miya Atsumu was looking at the man with sympathy in his brown eyes. He was feeling guilty for something, something that may wouldn’t happen if he just shut up and pestered him all those months ago.

Bokuto nodded at the setter, kissing the ring and pray before putting it back on his pocket. He was ready now, fiddling with your wedding ring always calm him down. It feels like you are exactly there, supporting him with all of your heart.

He stared once again to the seats that were now occupied by other people. Both you and Akaashi couldn’t attend his match today for the first time in forever. Well, the reason is practically lovely for the two, but not for him. You were now Akaashi (Y/n), and the two of you was away in another country, spending time together after the wedding two weeks ago.

This morning, he got a video call from his best friend. Akaashi was on the balcony as he was saying good luck for today’s match, though he was sure that Bokuto could win the game. Then there you were, circling your arms around Akaashi’s neck as you hug him from behind. Apologising for the lack of physical support. Bokuto brushed it off. He knew that the two of you couldn’t predict the future as when he will have a match.

You were so beautiful there with a white sleeping dress. Even though your bed hair was visible, you still manage to look gorgeous. His mind is running wild for a second, remembering the times when he was the only one who could see your bed hair. But now, all of your little things were belong to his best friend.

He remembered Saturday, two weeks ago. His hair was slicked to the back, one look that you said always looks good on him after his unstyled hair. You were saying that he looks mature when he didn’t wear his usual hairstyle, but no matter how he looks, you always love him either way. At least that’s what you said all those years ago.

Nervous, that’s what struck you when your father stands by your side. He was trying to calm you down, but to no avail, you keep shuddering. This is exactly what happened four years ago, but back then you could manage to keep your composure and stride down with a giddy smile on your face.

Maybe you are afraid, and you didn’t want to hurt Bokuto feelings after all. He collapsed when he saw how Akaashi kissed your forehead on one of the matches. What happened if he broke down? But you and Bokuto have been in a good relationship after that, and it’s not that he still loves you anymore though. Right?

“Hey, hey,” You jolted when you heard the familiar voice, “Are you okay, (Y/n)?” His golden eyes were full of concern. Your father looked at him with a surprised look, “Do you need anything? Water perhaps?” After all, your father never knew that the man could actually calm you down in seconds.

“Kou,” He caressed your arms gently, “I am afraid that I trip!” Well, that’s one of the reason. Bokuto blinked at your confession, then he laughed. He laughed so hard that if the musician didn’t play a song, it would roar to the entire venue. You and your father could only look at the man who now had tears in his eyes.

“I-I am sorry,” He finally stopped and took a look at you, “So? Have you calmed down yet?” You blinked, realising that you didn’t tremble anymore. Bokuto laughed because it was something that you or your father wouldn’t expect him to be. He knew you would just full of confusion.

“Oh my- YOU ARE A GENIUS!” You wrapped your arms around him for a while, “Thank you so much, Kou.” Bokuto patted your head gently, didn’t want to mess the vail or he will be killed by the entire family.

Your father looked at how the two of you interact. He realised something as he looked at his ex-son-in-law, there’s just something in the golden orbs, hiding as after this, you will be married to someone else. The two of you break apart, Bokuto kissed your forehead gently and go back to his seat.

You circled one of your arms on your father. He looked at you like something is bothering his mind, “What is it, father?” The old man just shook his head as the two walks slowly to the venue.

“It’s nothing,” He squeezed your hand a little, “Koutarou has grown so much since the last time I saw him.” You smiled at this. Yes, your ex-husband has been matured well since the incident that made the two of you break apart. Maybe it was meant to be after all, “Are you ready now?” The two of you standing in front of the door.

Once you said yes, the door would be opened. So you nodded, ready to open up a brand new chapter in your life with someone called Akaashi Keiji. The huge door opened, eyes already glossy with tears as you saw the black-haired man that you will your husband in a few minutes. The song played, and so, you walked down the aisle to him, someone that you hope you spend all of these days on earth.

Bokuto looked at how magnificent you are as you walked towards his best friend. Your eyes didn’t leave the figure at all like it’s just you and Akaashi in this world. It was the same eyes that looked at him with love for more than ten years. It was the same eyes that he always adore staring too. It was the same eyes that broke down in front of him four years ago.

He gulped as he saw you kissed his best friend with the same lips that once belong to him. Tears already wetted his cheek, falling to the ground without limit. He clapped, maybe this is what Akaashi always felt back then. Bokuto just knows the truth about his best friend feeling for you. It’s bachelor night as Akaashi is a little bit tipsy, that’s when he poured the confession from his mind

“Thank you, Bokuto-san. Thank you for giving her to me.”

He remembered every syllable that his best friend said to him that night. So, he wiped all of the tears with his sleeve. You and Akaashi were looking at him, Bokuto immediately created a huge grin on his face. He didn’t want the most important people in his life to worry about him, especially if the day is supposed to spin around them.

Today’s match is easy for his team. It was still a prelimination, after all. He was now in the locker room with satisfaction from today’s game lingering his face. But it all gone in a second when he reached into his pocket. Horror started to emerge in his golden eyes, something important is missing.

“G-Guys!” He was panicked now, looking at his bag and throw everything out, “Do you see my ring?! Have you guys seen it?!” The entire team knew how important the ring to their ace, “Please, I can’t… I need to find it! It’s the last thing about her that I have.” Hinata immediately calmed him down, patted his back as the entire team sprawled around to find the ring.

Bokuto slide into the locker room as he couldn’t find the ring. It kills him if he loses it and he was trembling by now. He jerked when his ears catch a tune from Hinata. His hand immediately grabbed Hinata’s phone, making the poor boy startled.

“Don’t.” He gulped down, “Don’t call her, don’t call Akaashi. They are on a honeymoon right now.” Hinata nodded, saddening as he knew what’s the reason behind his lack of passion today. The orange-haired boy look at his ace, he remembered the time when they were in a summer camp around nine years ago.

The captain of Fukurodani will look at you with eyes full of love. Telling the whole world how beautiful you are and how your personality is the best in the entire universe. Hinata felt guilty for not saying it to him. He clenched his fist as he didn’t say anything when the whole team thought that Bokuto’s love for you might be gone.

But Hinata knew it well, the dual-coloured hair never falling out of love from you.

Bokuto is a complicated man. His mind was too simple that it made him become easily confused, resulting in his feelings to mixed up. He used to be so childish and selfish, and he didn’t understand exactly what happened in his heart.

Everyone saw something, like how Bokuto suddenly act like he used to be, wanting everyone’s attention at the game. And they saw it too, how the ace of MSBY didn’t rush to hug you or spun you around right after the whistle from the referee rings out.

The truth, it’s actually just how he is. He always acted like that since high school, and Bokuto has been in love with you since then.

Bokuto Koutarou never stops loving you. All of those feelings that he thought he felt, it was all a misunderstanding that burned inside his head. It’s just confusion that has been brimming inside his heart. Everyone said that he changes, everyone said that something is happening inside him.

So, he thought that he was falling out of love.

And for him, you didn’t deserve to be loved any less.

That’s the real reason he blurted out what’s inside his head that night.

He stops needing the attention of spectators because he feels its not right since you are there too, cheering him on. But after married to you for years, he knew that you are okay with it. So he did what he always does before. And you actually encourage it because that’s just how he is.

But everyone thought that your attention only is no longer enough.

He didn’t rush to see you after the match because he realised he was always sweaty whenever he hugged you. With time, he realised it’s inconsiderate for your side even though you never complained. So he stops doing it and takes times because he knew you will always be waiting for him nevertheless.

But everyone thought he started to get bored by your presence.

While actually, it’s just him that change to be a better person.

“WE FOUND IT!” Miya busted the locker room door, startling the two that still sat down on the floor. There on his hand, the familiar rose gold wedding ring that once belongs to you shone as the light hit the surface. Seeing that, Bokuto immediately stood up and grab the wedding ring from his teammate’s grasp, “You are welcome you-”

He stopped talking when his eyes were now looking at the man in front of him, the ace was crying by now. The entire team was silence as Bokuto hold the ring on his palm as his life depends on it. His lips were muttering a lot of words; Thank you, Thank God, My Love, My everything, I will be miserable without you. And the sight breaks everyone’s heart.

Miya clenched his fist. He shouldn’t have pushed him to think that you are no longer important to the ace. When he saw some different behaviour from his teammates, he immediately thought the least possible things that could happen. But now, he regretted everything that he did. The setter regretted to ever put that poison inside the wing spiker’s mind,

Because everyone could see Bokuto now, and they will all know how much he loves you.

After calming down and putting the ring in a safe place, Bokuto decided to go to his house since he needs to take care of some papers regarding his house. He was going to sell the house. It was too much for him to handle. For two years, he didn’t see it as home anymore because it lost the warm that usually there.

He always found himself saying that he’s home while he knew no one would answer him. Sometimes he asks to pass out something for him and ended up sobbing because you were no longer there to do it. The hallway still adorned with every memory that you and he had shared. And every night, he always looking at the pictures with a longing look in his eyes.

Behind those golden eyes, he knew he never stopped loving you. He started to put things together after his break down at one particular match. The ache he felt every time you are all lovey-dovey with Akaashi, or how you smiled at him, and every little thing that you did when you were near him. Bokuto could finally understand what is going on inside his heart.

There were times when he hoped he could settle his own feeling back then, so you didn’t slip between his finger. But when he saw you in the wedding dress with the man that was there for you the entire time, he couldn’t help but feel guilty if he cried. After all, he was the one who broke his chance to have a happy ending with you.

You were now happy, with someone that he knew so well would treat you like a goddess. A smile plastered on his face as he lay down on his bed and thinking about your smile. You are his everything, the only woman who could love him entirely. But he realised there would be no second chances when it comes to your love.

No matter how much he changes, he will always be the man who is deeply in love with you. If Akaashi could let you go all those years ago, maybe he could do the same at the end. Bokuto Koutarou could only hope that life will be okay even if it’s mean you are not in the chapter anymore.

He’s not the same man who wants you all for himself. He’s not the same man who asked you to marry him all of those years ago. He’s not the same man that clinging on you twenty-four hours a day. He was all matured, becoming the best version of himself. Though, there was something that will always be the same inside him,

His feelings for you will remain intact, never once lessening.

But sadly, it’s just him and the universe who know that.

And it will forever, eating him alive as long as he lives.

#bokuto #bokuto koutarou #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto angst #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #hq!!#imagine #scenario #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu angst #angst #akaashi keiji

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smoochkooks · 4 years

Text

—make it right 1 (m.)

⟶ pairing: jung hoseok/reader

⟶ genre: smut (coming in second part!), angst, fluff

⟶ word count: 19k+ (this part)

⟶ tags/warnings for part one: hip hop dancer!hoseok/drummer!hoseok, ballerina!reader, enemies to friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slowburn, mutual pinning, sexual tension, course language, drinking, hoseok’s hot bandmates, oc rolling her eyes at hoseok every five seconds, some banter and sarcasm, etc.

⟶ summary: he was a punk, she did ballet, avril lavigne sings, but truth to be told, there’s so much more than meets the eye about jung hoseok besides his drums, killer dancing skills and unexplained hatred for tattoos and piercings. because, under the layers of leather jackets and washed out joy division shirts, he’s still just a boy who tries to find his place in this big world.

or, alternatively: ballerina meets certain hip hop dancer slash musician who’s on a mission to win her heart with coffee dates and drumming lessons.

⟶ read second (and final) part here

The first time you met Jung Hoseok, it was raining.

September had just begun, welcoming the citizens of Seoul with copious amounts of not-so-summer-like weather. And at this point, after three days of non-stopping rainfalls, you were convienced that mother nature was trying to drown the whole city.

It was Saturday afternoon, last remains of August were still in the air, hidden underneath greish clouds covering the whole sky. That didn’t seem to be any problem for the tourists though, emerging from every single corner with smartphones glued to their hands.

You were running late for your ballet dance teaching class with an umbrella in one hand and your gym bag in another, maneuvering between puddles in white trainers, praying to whatever gods that existed not to soak them through and cursing yourself for constant bad outfit choices when it came to weather. Scorching hot afternoon with friends? Let's wear something black, your brain would suggest. Rainstorm? White converse highs is a great idea!

Your mother would choke you with bare hands probably if she saw you right now.

On your way to the studio, you bumped into some old lady carrying bags of groceries. You threw quick apologies, ignoring the screams of “watch out!’’ along with deathly glares that other people were sending in your direction you, until you finally reached your destination. Exactly five minutes before the time.

Just Dance dance school, located approximately twenty-five minutes long underground ride from your flat (which as a broke college student you highly appreciated), appeared in front of your eyes.

It was a modern building, situated in a part of the city that smelled like soy sauce and burnt meat, but during four months you had been working there you got used to it. There was a nail salon on the first floor and tailor on the second, but the whole third floor belonged to the school.

You started working there on Fridays and Saturdays a while ago, after completely coincidentally stumbling upon an offer found online. The school was looking for someone who could teach kids ballet on weekends. A young, energetic person with experience and, obviously, great patience and sympathy for children.

The only thing you were lacking of was background in teaching. But the manager, Choi Jisoo, did not mind that at all. A row of gold medals and trophies sitting on your shelves was enough to convince her you’re worth giving a chance on a probationary period. After few weeks of proving your skills as the best ballet teacher miss Choi would ever think of, you had got in.

And that was how you dumped your part time job at the petrol station to teach kids at Just Dance twice a week. Friday evenings and Saturday afternoons for a decent amount of money for a college student struggling with real life shit called university fees and rent, that even scholarship couldn’t entirely underwrite.

Now, climbing up the stairs with the speed of light, you knew you couldn’t bring yourself to lose this job because of your silly daytime nap that made you run late for classes.

You bursted into the locker rooms quickly, practically undressing in a hurry. After short examination in front of the mirror and fixing your usual mess of a bun, you spared a quick glance one last time at the clock. Four minutes of delay.

“Fuck!” you muttered to yourself, jogging to the practice room.

The halls, usually quite, now were filled with child-like chatter and bubbling. You frowned. That's strange, you thought to yourself. Your astonishment grew even bigger when you reached your destination, spotting a group of kids, your kids, in front of the practice room, bickering with each other.

“Hey!’’ you shouted, silencing them effectively. “Why aren't you already warming up and stretching inside?”

One of the kids, a little girl named Jiyho, stepped forward. “The room is occupied by some other group, miss. They were here when we came.” she said.

You raised your eyebrows. Did you perhaps messed up schedules and forgot there were some changes? No, that couldn’t be it. “What do you mean ‘occupied’?” you asked. “That's impossible, we've been having this classes every week here, in this room, for three months. I would know if there were any changes.”

Kids looked at you helplessly, shrugging their shoulders.

You sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, of course it's not your fault. I had a really crappy day and now this,’’ you drawled, pointing your hand at the door to the practice room. “Wait here. I’m gonna try to explain this quickly.’’ you added, smiling reassuringly at them.

When you opened the door, loud music filled your ears; some newest Drake's track you couldn’t remember the name of was playing from the speakers. Inside there was a group of kids, slightly older than the ones you were teaching, practing some hip-hop choreography.

Their teacher's back was facing you so you couldn’t distinguish if it was someone you knew from the school's crew. His dark hair with blonde highlights weren't familiar to you though. He was swaying to the rhythm of the music, counting the moves.

You cleared your throat loudly and there was no response. Of course no one could have heard you, not over the loud bass blasting through the speakers. You spotted the cause of your problem, a mobile phone charging in the corner of the room, so you went there and turned off the music entirely just before Drake could sing the chorus.

You cleared your throat again and this time everyone, including the dance teacher, heard you without a doubt.

Kids stopped dancing immediately and turned around, wide-eyed with heaving chests. Their teacher looked in your direction too, and now you were sure he had to be a new employee.

He was not much older than you, probably around your age. There was a thin layer of sweat on his forehead he wiped out with the back of his hand, his white t-shirt with the name of some punk rock band you didn't recognize was slightly sticking to his toned chest. He was good looking, you couldn’t deny that, and there was something devilish in the way he eyed your figure up and down with a smirk plastered on his lips.

You almost blushed under his gaze.

“Is there any problem, miss primaballerina?’’ he asked first, not even hiding his mocking tone.

You straightened up, ignoring his choice of words. “A problem?” you scoffed. “You and your group took the room where I have my classes every Friday and Saturday, so yeah, there is a problem.”

“The room was empty when I came here, so I just took it, it's not a big deal.” he answered, shrugging his shoulders.

“It is a big deal. Are you blind? This room is made directly for ballet dances. See this thing beside the wall?” You pointed behind him. “It's called barre. We used that for stretching in ballet. Of course you don't know that, how an ignorant hip-hop choreographer wanna be like you would know.” you snorted, chuckling to yourself.

In the corner of your eye you saw your kids peeking through the door, clearly interested in this unusual situation.

He narrowed his eyes. “I know what this is used for, princess,” he countered. You rolled your eyes at the pet name he used for you. First primaballerina and now this? Touché. “But I still don't see the point of your outburst.”

You were slowly losing your patience. The amusement in the eyes of his dancing group started to get on your nerves. It was a battle for the life and death and you weren’t used to backing away and losing. You had kids to take care of, rent to pay and new season of RuPaul's Drag Race to watch.

So you picked up a new strategy.

“Are you perhaps new here?” you asked, startling him.

“I am, why are you asking?”

“Because if you weren't new, you would know that there is only one practice room with barres in our school. This one, which also happens to be the room where I have my ballet classes every week.” you said triumphantly with a glint of not-so subtle satisfaction in your voice. “So, can you kindly take your kids and go somewhere else?”

That's it, you praised yourself in your thoughts. You got him, he doesn’t have anything up his sleeve.

The guy, however, seemed very much unaffected by your words. If anything, he was even more pleased, making your stony facade broke in seconds as you were losing your former confidence.

“No.’’ he said simply.

You gaped at him. “What?”

“I said no, princess. I need ten more minutes to finish this practice and I’m done.’’ he replied, reaching for the water bottle standing beside the wall. “Ten minutes, and you will have your bars or barrels all to yourself.”

You ignored an urge to correct him, taking a few tentative steps until you were right in front of him. He outstanded your height for a few solid centimeters, making you feel even smaller than you already were.

In addition, you hated him even more for looking this good even up close.

“Ten more minutes?! I should have started my lesson fifteen minutes ago! My kids are waiting!” You outstretched your arms in the direction where your group was watching the situation cautiously. They looked like tennis match spectators, turning their heads left and right as the argument progressed.

“So are mine,” he snapped back in calm tone, his lips twitching in an amused smile. Your nostrils flared.

“Miss? We could use another room today. We don't mind.” one of the girls from your group, Jihyo as you assumed, proposed shyly.

“But I do mind! I’m not gonna leave it like that!’’ you said firmly, still looking straight into your new rival's eyes.

“Geez, loosen up your primaballerina skirt a little maybe.”

“It’s called tutu, you ignorant assh–!”

“What on Earth is going on here?” the manager, Choi Jisoo asked, entering the room. She was a middle-aged woman, once a contemporary dancer, now leading the school on behalf of her husband. Her red high heels were clicking loudly on the polished parquet surface as she was coming up in your direction. “I heard shouting, so I came to check. Can someone explain me why aren't you having your classes now?”

You immediately rushed to the manager, taking her hands in yours. “Miss Choi, I will explain everything. This man right here,” You pointed at the cause of your anger with distaste written all over your face and he simply rolled his eyes. “took my practice room and I have no place to have my classes.”

Miss Choi turned to look at the choreographer as well. “Is that true, Hoseok?’’ she asked.

The guy, Hoseok, nodded. “This room was empty, so I just took it. I didn’t know someone was supposed to teach here later.”

You scoffed. “There's a graphic hanging on the wall when you enter the building, you should've just–”

“Silence!” miss Choi said loudly and you stopped speaking, face flushed from the embarrassment of being scolded like that by your boss. “Jung Hoseok is indeed new here, so I will let that situation pass. And you, Y/N, will take another room for today’s practice.”

“But–”

“There's no buts. I’m sure Hoseok will know from now on in which room he should have his dance lessons. Go back to your groups, you are dismissed.” she added and left the room, leaving you to stare at her disappearing figure with wide eyes.

You clenched your fists by your sides, breathing deeply to calm your nerves. “Kids, go to the room 23.” you uttered, eyes focused on Hoseok.

He smirked, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “See you around, princess.” he half-whispered and winked.

Beginnings are always tough, and that was why after your first encounter with Jung Hoseok, you were certain you absolutely, undeniably hated his guts.

The second time you bumped into Jung Hoseok, it was Friday evening two weeks since ‘the accident' and you were walking out of locker rooms after your practice.

When you opened the door and heard strangled cry of “Ah, fuck!” you rushed to blurt out quick apologies to your victim. “Oh my God, I’m so–” you started but immadietly shut your mouth when you saw the person who you just hit.

Jung Hoseok, in his full glory of another The Clash t-shirt (you googled their music your first encounter with him and the only nice think you could say about them was that Jonathan played their song in Stranger Things first season) and yes, grey sweatpants (did he even own other clothes?) was standing before you, grinning in the most annoying way you could ever think of.

You wished you could wipe his smug expression off his face with sand paper.

“Fancy seeing you here too, princess,” he trailed off, leaning against the door and making you roll your eyes like every time you saw him on the halls of Just Dance. Even though you were avoiding him like a plague, he seemed to appear wherever you were. A true pain in the ass.

Maybe you were too stubborn, maybe it was your shitty coping mechanism, but decent conversation with someone like Jung Hoseok wasn’t your favourite part of the day, not after the way you were humiliated in front of your boss and underaged students.

Last week you walked past Hoseok's group and some of them giggled. You could swear they were already making jokes and memes about you behind your back.

And, the worst of it all, an absolute peak of your devastation, was the fact that even your own kids, those who were looking up to you, started to be more reserved around you. Jihyo baked some muffins because she had birthday the other day and didn’t treat you. Jihyo, the girl who once had told you she wanted to be like you in the future.

But none of this anymore.

You turned on your heels and started to walk away but Hoseok followed your footsteps. “Hey, it's rude not to apologize. My right hand hurts now, you know? I need you to kiss it better, princess.” he called, again in the same mocking tone he had used before.

And that was the moment you decided that if choking people to death had been legal, Jung Hoseok would have been already lying dead on the floor.

You ignored his words the best you could, acting like he was invisible. Avoiding the problem wasn’t the best idea you could ever think of, your mum would say but she wasn’t there, so you concluded it was better to act like Hoseok and the situation with practice rooms two weeks ago had never happened.

Hoseok, on the other hand, had very much different outlook on this. “Are you still mad about this thing with practice rooms?’’ he asked, looking at your right profile. You clamped your mouth shut, staring forward. He chuckled. “Christ, I didn't know you're that picky. Are all primaballerinas like this? Right, you are giving me silent treatment, I forgot. But can you please stop and listen what I have to say for a moment?”

After hearing his last words you actually stopped in your tracks, causing Hoseok to do the same.

You sighed heavily. Maybe he was right after all. You were a bitch sometimes, you couldn’t handle the defeats well and above all, you had probably the worst coping mechanism ever.

That was not the end of the world, somebody would say. Don't worry, be happy, Bob Marley would sing if he hadn’t died. Sparing one minute for Jung Hoseok wouldn’t make the ground to open in half underneath you.

“Go on, I’m listening,” you said, choosing casual tone of absolute unbotherness.

Hoseok took a deep breath, before he started speaking. “Listen, I’m sorry about what happened two weeks ago. It wasn’t intentional, I swear. As you know, I’m new here and you can argue or not but people sometimes deserve second chances,” he remarked, observing your reaction. You should stop rolling your eyes at everything that came off his mouth. “So, I thought we can go for, uhm, a coffee maybe? Tomorrow, after our classes.”

You raised your eyebrows, gawking at him.

“It's all on me. As an apology.” Hoseok added sheepishly.

A coffee? With Jung Hoseok? A hip-hop dancer who didn’t know what barre was? You opened your mouth to snap “am I joke to you?” but you stopped eventually.

To be fair, you had nothing to lose. He wanted to apologize after all, he was the first one to approach you and maybe that was how adults should act.

You looked at him once again, more intensely this time, trying to find any sort of fake politeness in his expression. But in his eyes there was nothing but genuineness. Maybe Jung Hoseok really just wanted to treat you in lieu of apology.

Finally, after a minute that seemed to last forever, you softened. “Fine.”

Hoseok's eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. Stop staring at me like that or I will change my mind.” you grumbled and he grinned at you boyishly, in the way he probably made people fall for him. Because with that kind of aura he emitted, it was hard not to. Thank God you could easily resist his charms.

“That's settled then. Wait for me after your practice in front of the locker rooms.” he said, while walking away backwards. “See you tomorrow, princess!”

When he disappeared behind the corner, you muttered to yourself, “See you too, asshole.”, adjusting the straps of your gym bag.

It was a good while after that day when you realised that some people really did deserve second chances.

And Jung Hoseok was one of those kind.

Your third meeting with Jung Hoseok was a date. Actually, it wasn’t a date at all. You called it ‘coffee for the peace’. United we stand, divided we fall, they said.

Or to paraphrase Fergie: little coffee never killed nobody.

You found yourself standing in front of the mirror in the locker rooms, eyeing yourself with contorted look. Your hair was a mess, which you blamed the weather for. Even though mother nature stopped bombarding the city with rainfalls, the humidity was still there, lurking around the corners and waiting for the right moment to attack. You didn’t even know why you cared so much about your appearance. It was just a coffee, nothing more, nothing less, for God's sake.

With a sigh, you bent over to tie your shoes, and then you heard a voice coming from behind you. The same low, teasing tone that could only belong to–

“Didn't know you've been hiding this under your ballerina skirt all time,” Hoseok mused. “What a waste.”

You twirled around with a speed of light, facing him with slightly pinkish cheeks. It wasn't everyday that someone non-explicitly talked about your ass, especially someone like him. It wasn’t even on full display because you had your leggings on and you knew he was joking but still, your face felt hotter.

“What are doing here? You aren't supposed to be here, it's ladies locker room!” you hissed.

Hoseok shrugged his shoulders. “You’ve been here forever, so I decided to check if you didn't slip on your point shoes and died.”

You raised your left eyebrow. “Very funny. Now give me a minute and we can go wherever you want.”

“Watch your words, princess, beacuse I might take your offer seriously.”

He couldn't see you but you rolled your eyes hearing him say this regardless. You took your bag from the porch and turned around to face him with a bored expression written all over your features.

“Don't act like you're doing this as a punishment. You won’t regret, I promise,” After climbing off the stairs, Hoseok opened the door and you embarked on a street. “This place isn't far away from here, just a ten minutes walk.” he explained, choosing a direction you didn’t know.

To distract yourself a little, you started to observe the neighborhood. It was less crowded here, the usual smell from cheap restaurants was less palpable now. You were walking down the street you weren’t familiar with, you hadn’t had a chance to explore it like that yet.

It was dead quiet between you despite the hustle of the city. You weren’t used to this kind of silence and even though you certainly weren’t a master of small-talks, at least you had to try loosen up the heavy atmosphere a little.

“So,” you trailed off, “You seem to know this part of the city pretty well.”

Hoseok hummed, taking another turn that seemed to be some kind of a cutoff. “My old dance school I used to go is here, in this area,” he said. “I moved to the boarding school in Seoul from Gwangju when I was sixteen beacuse I wanted to pursue dancing. My parents weren’t very fond of it, but I told them that high school I chose had a very promising programme for kids who wanted to be business majors in the future as they wanted me to be.”

“And did you do something with that? Business, I mean,” you asked.

He scrunched his nose. “Nah, not really.” He looked like he didn't want to elaborate on that more, so you didn’t press him further. “Enough storytime for now. We're here.”

There you stood in front of a simple coffee shop like many others. Blue Side, signboard said in swirly fonts and English spelling. There was nothing distinctive about it, just an ordinary place you could find in neighborhoods like this in every single city, but you knew places like this one sometimes had living souls inside, telling their own stories.

Blue Side indoors looked exactly like the name was saying: azure walls, paired with modern white chairs and tables, grayish cloths adoring them. Classy, tasteful decor, someone would say, but one thing seemed completely out of place: big, framed pictures of sunflowers, your favourite plants, hanging on the walls like on a blue sky.

There was something bizarre about it, they didn’t match the rest of the decoration at all but at the same time they seemed to fit perfectly. They were bringing strange kind of calmness and halcyon aura to the place, marked with cold tones but broken through the yellow warmth.

Hoseok lead you to the table by the window. There wasn’t a lot of people beside you here, so a young looking waitress with dyed pink hair approached you pretty quickly, handing menus. She grinned broadly at Hoseok, too courteous for your liking, and for a moment you wondered just how many coffees the waitress served him before. Probably a good amount, judging by the way he returned the smile.

You looked through the positions briefly, before deciding on a simple espresso. Hoseok didn’t even open his. Regular customer, you thought to yourself, flesh and bones.

Awkward silence fell between you again and this time Hoseok was the one to break it.

“It's weird seeing you without your ballerina outfit,” he said, startling you. “And your hair isn’t in a bun today,” He pointed at the top of his head, tracing invisible circles in the air.

“Is that a bad thing?’’

Hoseok’s smile was smug when he spoke. “Not at all. You look good like this. Not so dramatic.”

You huffed. “I'm not dramatic.”

“Says the person who almost kicked me and my kids out of the practice room, and called me hip-hop choreographer wanna be.”

You opened your mouth to snap a witty response at him but the pink-haired waitress came to collect the orders. Maybe you were losing your mind but you could swear her lips weren't tainted in fuschia before.

“Just an espresso for me,” you said, sending the waitress a forced smile.

“Caramel frappuccino with–” Hoseok started, but the waitress interrupted him.

“With extra cream, got it.” she finished his sentence, clearly proud of herself.

You bit your bottom lip, trying to suppress an urge to chuckle. Hoseok sent a polite smile to the girl and averted his gaze to you. The points of his ears were slightly flushed in red.

“So yeah,” he uttered, scartching the back of his neck. “Where were we?”

For a moment you thought about teasing him a little more, but eventually you resigned. He looked enough flustered right now and you’re not that devil as you had thought.

“We were talking about me looking dramatic with a bun and tutu on,” you prompted instead.

“You know that's not what I meant.”

You ignored him. “Anyway, you too don't look today like a hip-hop choreographer wanna be.”

That was true, he didn’t remind you of the sweaty Hoseok in grey sweatpants you were seeing every Friday and Saturday on the halls of Just Dance after blasting Spotify Global Top 50 for a whole hour.

This Hoseok who was sitting in front of you was wearing ripped jeans and leather jacket paired with ankle boots you wouldn’t mind buying for yourself in a smaller size. Daredevil, that was a good word to describe him. Dangerous, daring, and maybe d–yeah, dumbass, your brain suggested.

Yet, one thing was still the same about him.

“What's with you and those t-shirts?’’ you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Hoseok snorted at that. ‘’I like the band, so I wear t-shirts with their name on. It's as simple as that, princess. But I don't expect you to understand since you probably don't know who Joy Division is.”

You placed your palm on your chest, more offended by his words that you would like to admit. ‘’Of course I know who Joy Division is. I'm ballerina, not stupid,” you scoffed. ‘’Love will tear us apart is their song, isn’t it? I’ve been through this edgy phase on Tumblr in 2015. I know what I’m taking about.”

Hoseok looked at you with raised eyebrows and there was something in his eyes you couldn’t put your finger on. Was it amusement? Curiosity?

You didn’t have a lot of time to think about it though, because the waitress was back with your orders. Again starstrucked by Hoseok. Again smiling sweetly like kpop female idols on music shows.

While she finally put your coffees on the table (she spent definitely too much time doing it) and walked away, you spoke once more.

“I don’t get it,” you said and Hoseok muttered “what?”, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’ve never seen someone doing a choreography to Drake's song and be dressed like cliché rock band member the next day.”

Hoseok placed his cup down and looked at you with a smirk. “I have many faces you don't know about yet, princess.” he warned. Dangerous, daring, dumb–

“And when am I going to find out?” you countered.

“If you keep going for a coffee with me after our practices, I might reveal more of myself to you. As long as you are going to do the same in return.”

At that, you raised your eyebrows. Hoseok's eyes were challenging, asking you to pick up the dare and get to know him more and more, slice him layer after layer. Your subconscious was telling you there was so much more than meets the eye about Jung Hoseok than his annoying retorts and edgy t-shirts. And you were there to witness all of it.

“Fine,” you finally agreed, eyes narrowed. “We can hang out after classes. Sometimes.”

Hoseok grinned. “Great. Now, let's start getting to know each other!”

You're eyes widened comically. “Woah, slow down, boy. You know my name, know that I teach ballet and that I like espresso. What else should I tell you on our first dat–meeting?” you corrected yourself quickly. Date was a sacred word. Definitely not reserved for a man like Jung Hoseok.

“Oh, please. I also know it's better not to get on your nerves,” he pointed out. Smartass. “Tell me about how all of this happened. How did you become a ballerina.” he suggested.

You took a big sip of your coffee. “That's a quite long story,” you said languidly.

“I don't mind. We have time.”

You stared at him for a moment. He looked slightly out of picture, sitting in a quiet coffee shop, drinking a cup of the sweetest drink you could ever think of, while wearing clothes that made him look like he belonged to shady bars, where he could be surrounded by sleazy people sipping on their scotch whiskeys. There should have been a cigarette caught between his lips and fumes of smoke swirling around his features, but there was solace and the smell of caramel. Jung Hoseok, with a picture of sunflowers behind his back looked like no one you had ever met before.

And this kind of enigma that was this boy inflamed a strange curiosity in you.

So you picked up a dare.

“Well,” you began, “It all started when I was in kindergarten. You know how it is, when you are five years old and your parents want to divert their unfulfilled ambitions into you. You could say I was this type of kid, kinda. My mum was a ballerina when she was young, so was her mother, but when she got pregnant with me in very early stage of her relationship with dad, she had to stop her career and took care of me. Dad was constantly working, travelling here and there to gain as much money as he could for us,” you explained.

“Mum always told me that my grandparents weren’t quite fond of their relationship. Especially my mum's. You know, dad used to be some kind of a bad boy back then,” you chuckled, remembering the pictures mum showed you. Leather jackets, motorbikes and self made cigarettes. “Grandma constantly blamed him for ruining mum's dreams, for debauching her and then, I happened,” you paused to gulp a sip of your coffee and continued. “So yeah, my grandma never forgave dad. However, after years she had grown to tolerate him to the point she didn’t throttle him during Christmas.”

You smiled, thinking how your dad and grandma avoided any unnecessary conversations between them. It was all civil, good mornings and goodbyes spoke in casual tone, but the tension was so thick that any sudden impulse, like dad talking about old times after a few glasses of wine, could break everything they had built through years.

“It was actually my dad who took me to the ballet classes first. My mum never wanted me to follow her footsteps but dad somehow tried to, I don't know, redeem himself? He felt responsible for a long time and when I think about this now, he just wanted to make his daughter a next little ballerina so my grandma could be pleased.”

Suddenly Hoseok interrupted you. “But don't you think it's unfair your parents did that to you because your mum couldn’t, you know, continue her career anymore?” he asked and you were pleasantly surprised to see him intrigued by your little story.

You hummed, contemplating this for a second before you answered. “You’re right, maybe it is slightly unfair but I actually grown to love ballet while the years passed. And seeing my mum happily watching my performances is enough for me.” you said. Ballet was your whole life, it always had been, there was no point of denying it.

“What about your grandma then?”

“She died a few years ago. But I think she was proud of me. She never told me that verbally though. She was pretty bad at expressing feelings, but I know she was proud. I saw it in her eyes after my first big étude.”

It was in middle school, back when you were living in your hometown. Your group was performing Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker and you got one of the leading roles. You never forgot the look in your grandma's eyes when she approached you after the performance.

“And what now?” Hoseok asked and you looked up at him. “What are your plans for the next, few years?”

“Now, I still have a couple of years to double major from ballet dances and psychology. And what would come after, we will see. I have a big performance in January that will determine something really important for me. And as for the future-future, teaching kids ballet seems really nice.” You smiled lightly.

You didn’t like to talk about your big performance aloud, since you weren't quite sure of what future was going to bring. It determined if you would get into four-months-long international scholarship in Russia or not. Only one person could win this. And you were strong-willed to at least try. You dreamt about it your entire life. To finally dance on the stage of Bolszoy Theatre, maybe go on a whole tour around the world with their crew. But that was for now a matter of your own luck and abilities.

“Wow,” Hoseok mused. “You have this all planned out, princess.”

You rolled your eyes. “That's just a goal, not actual plans,” you grumbled sheepishly. “What about you? Are you really a hip-hop choreographer wanna be?’’ You giggled but stopped abruptly when you saw his expression seemed to have changed. Gone was cocky, grinning boy he was just minutes ago. Now in Hoseok's eyes was some kind of sadness and melancholy that wasn’t there before. It didn’t suit him. He was smiling, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“No plans. I’m just living the moment.” he said matter-of-factly, like he was trying to play it the most casually he could. It was strange behavior.

Maybe Hoseok was right. He did have a lot more hidden underneath the layers he put on everyday. He just didn’t want to show it. Not yet.

The atmosphere condensed between you. It was thick and heavy with strange tension. You tried to loosen up it a little. It was probably your personality trait your friend would directly connect with your zodiac sign. “So,” you chimed in, “for how long this waitress has been giving you heart eyes?”

Asking that was completely unplanned but you had to think about something quickly, offhand. Hoseok’s features brightened a little and you didn’t know if it was because the question was about the girl or because you were the one asking him it.

Ironically, you hoped for the latter.

“Chaeyoung, you mean?”

Oh, he knew her name. Interesting.

You tightened your grip around the cup unconsciously. “Is there any other waitress here who has a crush on you?”

Hoseok smirked after hearing your snarky remark but chose not to answer that. “Actually I’ve never had more explicit conversation with her, unless it was about the coffee. Maybe I should try, what do you think? She seems nice.” His eyes wandered for a moment to the place where the waitress stood, talking to a customer.

You smiled but there was no true politeness in this. Why though, that was something to think about on another occasion. “Yeah, you should. Totally.” you gritted through clenched teeth.

“Yeah, totally.” Hoseok agreed, nodding.

For a minute it was mute but then he glanced at your empty cups and a small smirk appeared on his face. “So, where are you taking me next?” he asked out of the blue.

You blinked. “What?”

“I treated you this week, your turn is next.”

‘’I’m not gonna buy you food, the fuck. You treated me as an apology! I don't-” You stopped your outburst when you saw him snickering at you. “Why the hell are you laughing?’’ you snapped. There was probably a blush on your cheeks and you cupped them briefly with your hands to cover it.

“Because I was kidding. You don't have to buy me anything, I can pay for myself. Relax, princess.” Hoseok grinned. He didn’t seem to be as uneasy as before, so you scoffed at him. “But honestly, where are we going next weekend?” he asked, entirely serious.

“What makes you think I want to go anywhere with you?” you challenged.

He just sent you his signature, cocky grin. “Am I that bad company?” he teased.

“Decent. You’re decent company, Hoseok.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Don't be. That's just me trying to be civil.” you warned, pointing your index finger at him.

“Great, I’ll text you about it soon then, princess,” Hoseok announced simply, ignoring your surprised expression. He reached for the menu still lying on the table and opened it. “They serve good lemon tarts here, want some?” he proposed, going through the other positions briefly.

You furrowed your eyebrows, still processing what he had said earlier. “You don't have my phone number.”

“I do, actually,” Hoseok mumbled and his lips twitched.

Your eyes narrowed into slits. “How did you get my number?”

“Soyeon. I asked her and she gave me.” Hoseok answered simply, shrugging his shoulders.

A shocked gasp left your lips. “Soyeon, the receptionist? You swooned her over to get my number? She's married!” you exclaimed, staring at him in disbelief.

Now it was Hoseok's turn to roll his eyes. “Not my fault she couldn't resist my smile and sweet words.”

You sighed heavily. He was really testing your patience.

“Well, what about those lemon tarts?”

You tossed your head back, groaning in frustration that was probably heard by every single person passing by the coffee shop on this September afternoon.

However, you missed the way Hoseok's lips stretched out in a warm, sincere smile.

You did end up having those lemon tarts that day.

You couldn’t explain why or how, but in some way coffee meetings after dance lessons on Saturdays were no more just them. They turned into late dinners on Fridays and random text messages when you were bored during your lectures, which most times were eventually escalalting to Hoseok sending you tiktoks and memes you had saw million times before yet you laughed at them anyway.

It was a start of promising friendship, someone could say. Unexpected, with not so smooth beginning but blossoming into something much more than simple hanging out in your free time. But none of you seemed to notice it, not yet.

Before you could even blink, summer was officially over and fall started to make her way into the weather. Warm cups of coffee started to feel more and more reasonable with each passing day and one time you found yourself holding one while visiting Hoseok at his work.

It was Wednesday, you didn’t have any classes at uni that day and he texted you if you could come to the address he had sent. And you did, ignoring the cold wind and forgetting about the warmth between your sheets you had to leave. Which had been surprising even for you; a sacrifice for someone like Jung Hoseok, but again, you weren’t categorizing it like that yet.

That’s how you found out about Hoseok's other job. He worked at the Suga's Record Shop, where, as he had described it: you could buy legendary pieces of music while listening to another million dollar hits. He’d said he took the position at Just Dance because the actual interest in buying vinyls unfortunately wasn't increasing, so the guy who owned the shop, Min Yoongi was his name, had decided to reduce Hoseok's salary.

The shop looked like pulled out straight from 80s movies, with tons of records of probably every single artist you could think of. There wasn’t anyone beside you inside, so Hoseok walked you around, picking up different albums, classics, as he had said and showing them to you. He kept talking about them with true admiration written on his features, babbling about how Joey Ramone and his band invented punk rock and you found yourself watching him with amusement glittering in your eyes.

Days, weeks passed and it was already October approaching, turning green parks into wide range of colors that could only be described as autumnal.

You kept discovering more and more similarities between you and Hoseok than you would like to admit. One of them being your laicsm when it came to manga and anime. The solidarity was made one Friday after practices, when you both agreed on not understanding the hype after seeing some poster hanging out randomly on the street.

Music taste however, was another cup of tea. It was something Hoseok took his pride in, that was why he kept sending you various tracks encouraging you to listen to some good stuff until one day, with raised eyebrows, he learnt how wrong his previous assumptions about you had been.

“Oh my God, my song!’’ you exclaimed, when The Neighbourhood’s Softcore started playing while you were sitting at the Blue Side. It looked like the pink-haired waitress was absent, so were the latest k-pop tracks she constantly played in the coffee shop.

“You know them?’’ Hoseok asked, looking at you with bewilderment in his eyes.

You snorted at him. “Told you I had that edgy vibe in 2015 when everyone listened to Sweather Weather. The t-shirts are long gone but my love for Jesse Rutherford stays untouched.”

You started mouthing the lyrics but Hoseok interrupted you. “I thought you would be into some k-pop type of shit.”

He received a roll of your eyes in return. “Hey, don't disrespect k-pop like that! There are nice songs out there, people just choose the worse ones usually and complain how trashy they are.” you said, pointing your index finger accusingly at him.

Hoseok lifted his arms in defending pose. “Fine, fine, don’t cancel me. What about classical music then. Since you are dancing ballet and all,” he drawled.

“Do you want to know a secret?’’ You leaned over the table and whispered, earning a nod from Hoseok. “Most ballerinas know nothing about classical music unless they are pieces we use for our routines. Ask them about their favourite and the answers would probably be Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. I'm most ballerinas.”

There was a moment of silence before you both erupted into laughter.

For people looking at you from the distance, laughing together until tears formed in your eyes, teasing and throwing playful snorts, you might have looked like you had known each other for years.

Something was ending, leaves were falling off the trees and sun hid behind the greish clouds but in the warm embrace of a small coffee shop two people found themselves in a hold of affection they couldn’t escape, no matter how hard they tried.

Because love sometimes comes into people’s lifes unannounced, tearing apart their souls and making them vulnerable for others’ healing touch.

It was late evening on Friday, when you were sitting at your favourite ramen place, bonding over food like it was the most natural thing to do, talk between next chews, bites and occasional slurps of Hoseok's mouth.

Miss Lee's ramen was cheap, not fatty and what was the most important – not popular among other residents of your neighborhood, so not many people decided to show up that evening as well. That became the reason why you had suggested meeting there with Hoseok after your lessons.

You were in the middle of playing 100 questions game, a new found way of getting to know each other better. It was completely Hoseok's idea because he seemed to be the most eager man to learn more about you that you had ever met in your entire history of dating which, sadly, wasn't impressive.

Last time someone asked you so many questions, you were doing personality tests on Buzzfeed.

Now it was your turn to ask something and after discovering that Hoseok poured milk before the cereal, liked green the most from all colors and was scared of needles (that's probably why he didn’t have any piercings, you thought to yourself) you decided you were really bad at this game.

But then, you recalled the interview you had recently watched with some k-pop group and after swallowing a generous amount of pasta, you aimed the target.

“What's your most prized possession?’’

Hoseok, however, answered without a second thought. “My drums.”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you looked at him in confusion. “Drums? Like the instrument?”

“No, like the cannisters.” he snorted sarcastically.

“So you can play?” you continued, ignoring his witty retort.

“Yes, I do. I started learning when I was a kid. My dad owned a music shop. He was renovating old instruments from time to time and that's how I was gifted drums on my 10th birthday. The same ones I have till this day.”

You hummed. “So you’re hip-hop dancer slash drummer? And what, you play in a rock band too?” you laughed but stopped right away when you saw his serious expression. You gasped. “Oh my God. You do play in a band! And you didn’t tell me sooner?!” you exclaimed loudly. Young couple sitting few seats from you sent you deathly glares. You mouthed “Sorry!” and directed your attention to Hoseok again.

He simply shrugged his shoulders. “There wasn’t an opportunity before,” You shook your head in disbelief at that. “Told you I’ve got a lot more to reveal.” He smirked and fuck, you hoped the blush that covered your cheeks right now was from the spice noodles you had eaten.

So Jung Hoseok and his love for leather jackets and old bands wasn't unreasonable. You hated yourself for wanting to see him play, sweat covering his forehead and lips bitten in concentration. What a sight it could be. Truly mesmerizing.

You had to stop your brain from wandering through such dangerous territories.

“So,” you started after clearing your thoughts, “Are there any other hot musicians in your band?” you asked, regretting your choice of words as soon as they left your lips. You wanted to slap yourself mentally.

“Did you just call me hot?”

“In your dreams. Now tell me about your rock band,” you blurted out quickly and let out a shaky breath afterwards. That was very much close to a catastrophe.

Yet you didn’t miss the way Hoseok's lips lifted up in amusement, trying to hide the laughter blossoming in his throat. “We are actually a punk rock band. There’s four of us. Namjoon, electric guitarist and the leader who sticks us all together since 2016. Jimin, in charge of vocals and bass guitar, and the youngest member, Jungkook, vocalist and bass guitar player as well.”

“How did you all meet then?’’

You weren’t even hiding your curiosity at this point. You justified yourself by thinking it was your only chance to be as close to the real (punk) rock band member you would ever be.

“You probably won’t believe me, but we all met at the university. I was studying business for a year before I dropped out of it and that's how I met Namjoon, who’s been my roommate ever since,” Hoseok said. “I met Jungkook and Jimin through Namjoon. He introduced them to me saying they all took part in some underground concerts for amateurs and after that they started hanging out together. You might say it was a coincidence we all met like that but I don't believe it. I think we were meant to come across each other eventually, you know, to save punk rock together.” He laughed to himself after finishing his little story.

You smiled at him genuinely and there was no mockness in this, it was true sympathy and probably something else, not so easy to describe.

You imagined four boys, with head full of dreams and hearts filled with raw passion, doing something the world didn’t believe in, but they had enough faith in themselves to prove everyone wrong.

“So how’s the band called?” you asked.

“Punk’s Not Dead.” Hoseok responded, cheeks bright red with mortification.

“Punk’s Not Dead,” you mused to yourself. “Sounds nice. Clever, I would say.”

“It's actually a name of the movie. It was Namjoon who made it up. He's the smartest from our group. After all he isn’t studying law without a reason.”

Your eyebrows lifted in interest. “A future lawyer playing in a punk rock band? I thought nothing is gonna surprise me after hearing you, hip-hop choreographer wanna be, are also a drummer. What about the others? Doctors? Stripteasers?”

Hoseok chukled lightly. “No, none of that. Jungkook and Jimin both work together as mechanics,” he answered, reaching for his now empty ramen bowl. You gaped as his calloused fingers adored with rings curled around the item, moving it to the side. Hoseok had pretty hands, you noticed. Hands of musician.

Sudden idea popped up in your head. “So when am I gonna hear you playing live?” you asked, smirking at him.

“Soon actually.”

“Soon?”

“Yeah, soon. We are having a gig next Saturday at Namjoon's brother bar. You should come.” Hoseok suggested.

What kind of hollywood movie plot it was, you didn’t know, but you found yourself enjoying the main female protagonist's role probably too much.

“Next Saturday,” you mumbled to yourself, counting days in your head. Right, it was the day your best friend was coming back from Los Angeles and you had to pick her up from the airport.

You bit your lip. Ah, fuck it.

“Fine. I’ll come,” you said. ‘’But can I bring my friend as a company?” you added and Hoseok smiled broadly.

“The more people, the better.”

It was a while after the concert when you learnt it wasn’t entirely a good idea but right now, with Jung Hoseok and his cocky grin he was flashing you, nothing else mattered.

Incheon International Airport was a place utterly unfamiliar to you.

Last time you had visted it, was when you had been in ripe age of ten, welcoming back your aunt Jia from her ‘life journey’ to Tibet.

Aunt Jia was an extraordinary lady, she had proved it announcing the whole family her departure to Tibet for a six months long ‘detox’, nearly giving your mother heart attack when she had talked about bonding through the nature and finding her inner peace in a temple among Tibetan monks.

But it was years ago, now aunt Jia was older and her interest in buddhism was way more sustainable, limited to buying different Buddha figurines in art decor shops.

So today, you were at the Incheon International Airport for the second time in your life, again welcoming, this time your best friend Hana from her almost two years long stay in United States.

You met three years ago, both freshly graduated from your high schools and starting a new, adult life in Seoul as roommates. You had become close friends pretty easily, sticking together through ups and downs of dealing with real life shit, as you used to call it.

Ballerina and soon to be actress, both too dramatic for this world but getting along just fine through a whole year, until one day Hana had announced over a bowl of cereal she had received an opportunity to go on an international scholarship in USA she had always dreamt about. A lifetime chance, one in a million, as she'd said. Learning acting from American professionalists, walking down the never ending sunshine streets of California. Something only outstanding people can experience.

That was how Hana had ended up in Los Angeles, the City of Stars and the world's factory of make-believe. Thousands of kilometers away from home. Today, she was going to step on her country's ground for the first time in two years since she had been gone and you were more than thrilled to see her again in person.

She hadn’t exactly told you why she was back, neither she had explained for how long or, what was the most important and disturbing: why this was happening all of a sudden. And something was telling you it was all too suspicious, a perfectly wrapped half-lie.

Hana said someone from her old friends from acting school had told her that the National Theater was preparing to do Victor Hugo's Les Misérables and suggested she should try her luck with castings, since she had played the main role while being abroad. It sounded convincing though, how wouldn’t, she was a good actress after all.

That was Hana’s version of events. How really was, you didn't know, not yet. But you were sure something about this whole situation was too strange to be true. And you were determined to find out exactly what.

It was late morning in Seoul, foggy and with definitely too much humidity in the air. You were standing in the arrivals hall holding a self-made sign, produced out of boredom and your true love for DIY Pinterest ideas. Besides your friend’s name, you had painted palm trees on it and added glitter that was still stuck to some parts of your bedroom floor. You probably looked ridiculous holding it in your hands but you didn’t care, shifting from left foot to right. Waiting.

When you were about to check the time, you saw people coming up in your direction with suitcases in their hands. And then, among a crowd of nameless passengers, you saw a familiar blonde pony-tail and black polka-dot suitcase that could only belong to one person.

You could feel the roll of your best friend's eyes before you actually saw it, Hana shaking her head and chuckling to herself because of the absurd sign you were holding.

When Hana was approximately ten meters from you, you cleared your throat and half-yelled in flat english, “There she is! My California girl!”

People around looked in your direction with both distaste and amusement but Hana only sighed, until breath was knocked out of her lungs from the sheer force of your hug.

“Oh my God, I missed you so much!” you mumbled into the material of her grey coat.

“We talked and face timed each other practically everyday,” Hana grumbled but deep down, even if she didn’t say it, she missed you too.

“That's not the same!” you protested. “Lemme look at you properly,” You pulled away from the hug, putting your hands on Hana's shoulders and eyeing her carefully. She looked skinnier than three years ago when you had met but that was a question for another occasion. Her skin, gingerly touched by Californian sun, made her look like she had just come back from holidays abroad. “You're definitely too tanned for October,” you pointed out, earning a chuckle from her.

“Come on,” Hana said, tiredness clearly apparent in her voice. “Let's get away from here.”

Back in the Uber that was driving you to your place, the atmosphere seemed to shift. Unspoken questions were lying at the tip of your tongue and you wanted to let them out instantly but you knew better. No rush, one information at the time. So you started from the simplest one, or you just thought it was.

“Did you tell your parents you're back?” you asked and Hana visibly grimaced after hearing it. Of course she didn’t, there was no point of lying.

“Not yet.”

“When are you going to tell them then?”

There was a pause on the other side of the seat and followed by a heavy sigh, Hana responded. “They still think I’m in California because my scholarship physically ends in two months. I will visit them home as soon as I’ll settle down in Seoul again.”

Settle down? You furrowed your eyebrows. She was going to stay for good here?

“So what are your next plans?’’ you wondered aloud.

“Go to that try-out in the theatre next week, see if my stay in America was actually worth something,” Hana chuckled dryly, almost bitterly. “I was also thinking about finding some part time job so I could afford a place on my own once I get back to acting regularly in theatre. I don’t want to overuse your kindness.”

“You're not using–” you started to protest but Hana cut you off.

“I am practically throwing myself at you because I don't have a place to live. But don't worry, that's not for a long time.” She smiled lightly and you reciprocated the gesture. Hana then turned her head to the window, looking out of it for a while as you passed the streets. She murmured something about the weather that you didn’t hear well because your thoughts were somewhere else.

You tried to digest all the revelations your friend had just told you. It looked like Hana wasn’t planning on coming back to Los Angeles any time soon or she wasn't going to do it at all, but that wasn’t the most puzzling issue about the whole situation. It was strange because she’d never said anything about staying abroad for longer, not even once, until she met him. That happened to be some kind of an anchor for her, a reason why she had started questioning openly her further life choices. Had something happened that she changed her mind completely?

You caught in the corner of your eye the sight of Hana absentmindedly playing with the ring on her finger and you decided it was now or never, you had to ask her or you will never be able to muster up the courage.

“What about Taehyung?” It seemed out of the blue, vocalized so suddenly but deep down it wasn’t. And Hana knew that. Her fingers ever so slightly tightened around the ring and then pulled away. “Does he know you’re staying?”

She didn't visibly flinched, didn’t scrunch her eyebrows or purse her lips, didn’t protest. Maybe it was because she had been taught how not to show any emotions, maybe it was because she didn’t want to show any emotions at all. Her face was blank when she spoke, eyes distant and thoughts probably far away from the small space of the car.

“Taehyung recently got a role in some new Netflix series. One of the main roles actually, so it's going to take him some time to finish recording.” she said, not answering the question and she was well aware of it. It was right there on the tip of her tongue but she hesitated. Maybe the realization was too much to handle for her.

“So he seems to enjoy his stay in America,” you trailed off, watching as Hana smiled lightly but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Yeah," she nodded. “He is.”

And that was enough of an answer for you.

You had been watching Hana falling for Taehyung for solid two years since she had left grey streets of Seoul to drown in Californian paradise. They met in acting school and got the scholarship together. The most divine, the most talented students the school had. Somehow over the thousands of kilometers of homesickness they started dating. And you were happy, you couldn’t be more glad seeing your beat friend chasing her dreams with a person who cared about her by her side. But the news about engagement few months ago had come as a shock to you, although you had not said anything. Hana's smile when she had showed you the ring had been enough to convince you of her happiness.

Right now, sitting by her side and listening to her talking about it so emotionless, so blankly, you were sure that in every single Hollywood fantasy there was a crack.

“So, here we are.”

After opening the doors to your apartment there was a slight pause, before you spoke again. “I know it's nothing special but for that price and in location so close to my uni I couldn’t find anything better. It's small but–”

“Can you please stop rumbling for a second?” Hana interrupted you abruptly. She was literally standing in the door with the suitcase still in her hand because you didn't let her in any further. “I told you it's okay. You allowed me to stay here even though there's barely enough space here for one person.”

“But still, the bathroom is like the smallest I have ever seen... Oh, and there's a soy sauce stain on the wall in kitchen because I still haven’t figure out how to remove it and–”

The door banged loudly and you jumped from the sudden noise.

“What the fuck! You know how easily I get scared!” you exclaimed, placing a hand on your chest, calming your rapidly beating heart.

Hana shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve had enough of your stupid complaining. Now, show me where will I sleep beacuse I feel like passing out any second now.” She placed her suitcase on the floor, taking off her coat and kicking off her boots.

When you were living together as roommates, Hana was the one who organized the chores and yelled at you after making a mess and not cleaning up. She had been doing it as a matter of habit even during her absence.

“Sleep, yeah,” you muttered to yourself, shrugging off your coat as well. “Technically there’s no second bed here but you’re going to sleep here,” you explained, pointing out at the small sofa that was standing in a place you called ‘living room' just because it was connected directly to the kitchen. Beside the sofa, it consisted of the lamp and a tiny glass table where usually was a mess of your belongings but right now it was all cleaned and polished.

Hana slumped down on the sofa, closing her eyes. “God, I missed that. There was some yelling kid on the plane and their parents couldn’t shut them up,” She sighed tiredly. “Now I can nap for the rest of the day. And night.”

You bit your lip, looking at her slumped body. Today was Saturday, the day of Hoseok's band concert you had been invited to and you still didn't prepare your outfit or, what was the most important, for the whole week you hadn’t messaged Hana about the fact that she was, in fact, invited too. You felt guilty asking your freshly out of twelve hours long flight friend to come with you but you had no choice.

“Hana,” you started and it already sounded pleading, not casual. She cracked one eye open. She knew when you had some buisness to her and it seemed like that now. “I know you’re tired, jet lagged and all but what would you say to a power six hours nap and going to a punk rock concert tonight with me?” you blurted out quickly.

Hana opened her eyes completely and now was looking at you dumbfounded expression on her face. “What?” she stammered out.

You moved to sit next to her on a sofa and took a deep breath. “So here's the thing. You know I work at the dance school now right?” you began and Hana nodded slowly. “I met a guy there. He teaches kids hip-hop. His name is Hoseok and he actually isn't only a dancer, he's also a drummer. And it might sound stupid but he plays in a band too,” you explained, avoiding her burning gaze you could feel on your skin. However, if you looked in her direction, you would see the soft smile adoring Hana's features. “We kinda started hanging out about a month ago and recently he invited me to his band's concert. And I really want to go but I thought you could accompany me cause I don't wanna be there alone all the time so, yeah.” you trailed off sheepishly.

There was a bit of silence and you were waiting for Hana to scold you but instead you received reaction you weren’t expecting at all.

“You’re dating some guy and you didn’t tell me?!” Hana bursted out. She had a mixture of disbelief and probably a little bit of betrayal written across her face.

You held your arms up in defending pose. “We aren’t dating!” you protested, scandalized someone could ever put words dating and Hoseok's name next to yours. “It's just some casual hanging out after work, just friends. Friends.” you repeated.

Hana rolled her eyes at that. She knew you better than you would like to admit but she decided not to tease you about it any further. “So, is he hot? He must be, he's a drummer after all and they are hot in theory,” She wiggled her eyebrows, nudging you with her elbow while you groaned in frustration.

“If that will make you happy, yes, he is good looking,” you sighed. There was a tiny bit of blush covering your cheeks. “But as I said, we’re just friends!” you emphasized the word again, looking at Hana intensely like you were trying to embed it in her brain so she wouldn't think something else.

“Will you go with me then? Please? I need emotional support.” you pouted. “Besides you owe me for letting you stay here.” you added and it might have been a little unfair move to maake but you didn’t care about that.

Hana sighed heavily, like she was really contemplating the decision even though she had made it a while ago, just to keep you in suspense for a little longer. She fought and urge to ask about said emotional support while Hoseok was only a friend and instead she nodded her head.

“Fine, I’ll go,” she said, lifting her index finger before you could crash her body in a hug. “But I need to take this nap first.”

You grinned at her. “Thank you, thank you,” you kept mumbling, cuddling her body tightly against her protests.

“Now lemme wash and sleep.” Hana grumbled in annoyed tone but you knew she wasn’t mad at you at all. Deep down, even after layers of well trained, measured actions she had a good heart.

“Punk’s not dead? What kind of name for a band is this?”

You were standing before the door to the bar, side by side, watching as different people, mainly young, were passing you and coming inside. Hana eyed the pink poster that said ‘Free entrance!’ with her arms crossed over chest.

“That's the name for the punk rock band.” you said with a glint of annoyance in your voice, not even sure why somehow affected by your friend's words. You liked the name, it wasn’t obvious and sounded catchy. For you at least.

Hana snorted. “I hope they are worth my jet lagged self that I’m sacrificing here for you.” she sighed, averting her gaze from the poster hanging on the window and pushing the door inside.

The bar, Dionysus, was Namjoon's brother’s property, as Hoseok had explained to you. They played their mini concerts here since they had met, actually gaining money from this because the owner was letting them take some part of the earnings from alcohol buying. Also, there was always a small box on the bar counter where people could throw their money inside if they wanted to support the group directly.

Inside, there was a respectable amount of people already standing before the stage where everything seemed to be set up, except for the actual band members that weren't present, apparently hiding at the ‘backstage’ until their main entrance. You spotted drums standing at the back of the stage and you suddenly felt not so sure of yourself.

“There's a whole stage here? Geez, they didn't come to play,” Hana wheezed to herself, taking in the surroundings. “Do you want to drink something first?” she whispered into your ear.

You glanced at your phone to check time before answering. “I don’t know. I kind of want to be by the stage when they start playing.”

Hana nudged your side. “Relax, I will push my way through those girls in leather skirts for you. Come on, let's warm up a little.”

You looked in the direction of the stage once again but eventually gave up, letting her drag you to the bar. Maybe the drink wasn’t a bad idea. You didn't quite know if you could survive the evening completely sober.

The tall, handsome looking bartender smiled at you cheekily when you sat with Hana by the bar.

“What can I get for the lovely ladies?” he asked, eyeing you both misheviously.

“What do you recommend?” Hana leaned her head on the hand, smiling at the man as well.

“I could make you my absolute speciality: Aphrodite’s nectar.” the bartender suggested.

“Go on, surprise us.” Hana said, earning a confident smirk from the man before he turned around to make your drinks. She rolled her eyes, pulling a few bills from her purse and throwing them to the self made money box with ‘Thank you for the support – Punk's not dead’ caption.

“I could pay for myself, you know,” you muttered under your breath but loud enough for Hana to hear.

“Shh, don't say anything and let me support your friend with a generous tip before the actual show. Hope they’re worth it.” Upon her words, the bartender handed you your drinks with “Here you go.” followed by the cocky grin.

Hana frowned when she saw pinkish liqueur poured to the vodka-size glass. “Seriously? This is his speciality? Pink coloured vodka? Isn’t that supposed to be called sex on the beach?” she scoffed and drank the substance in one go, flinching after she swallowed. “I've had better.” she commented dryly.

You followed her actions, drinking up the alcohol as well. You coughed a few times before you asked, “Can we go now?” It sounded like a childlike pleading but you didn’t care.

Hana nodded after exhaling loudly and you both made your way to the stage, like she had said earlier – pushing through the crowd of other people. There were shouts of swears and insults thrown at you from every side but Hana didn’t give a fuck, practically dragging you by your hand while you were muttering quick apologies to every single girl in leather skirt.

When you reached very front of the stage, Hana grinned at you. “See? Told you we’ll be in first row. God, I haven’t been to punk concert for a very long time.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “You've been to a punk concert before?” you asked, confused with her words. Hana seemed to be taken aback by this question, like she just realised she had said something she hadn't indent to.

“Yeah. In high school. Like I said, long time ago.”

“Why didn’t you–” you started but immadietly stopped, when the lights went out followed by the oooh! from gathered people. “Oh my God it's happening,” you half-whispered, clutching Hana's hand.

“Youjust referred to The Office without watching it.”

“Shut up!” you muttered, ignoring Hana's giggle.

Next thing you knew, sharp lights shimmered and few, firsts accords of electric guitar resonated through the bar. You absentmindedly squeezed Hana's hand tighter. Then, more lights flashed, along with the thumbing sound of drums and the whole stage illuminated with bright, silver colors.

You didn't even realise you were holding your breath the entire time. You eventually got back to your senses when one of the boys started singing an unknown to you song, probably self-written by them. His hair was pink and you recognized him as Jimin, remembering the photo Hoseok had sent you where he had captioned everyone. Jimin was leaning towards the micstand lazily, like he was purposely doing it this way. His guitar was dropped on his back nonchalantly.

Next was Jungkook, the youngest in the group. His mop of black hair was nodding along to the rhythm of the music, his eyes and attention solemnly focused on his guitar. He didn’t wear any jacket and his muscles on ink-covered arms flexed with his every move.

On the other side of the stage stood Namjoon, the one who Hoseok lived with and referred as the leader of the group. He also had some tattoos on his forearms but not as many as Jungkook. He smiled lightly at the crowd when someone shouted his name, showing the tiniest of dimples on his cheeks.

And there it was the last member. Hoseok.

Your breath hitched in your throat. You had seen him dancing a few times before in Just Dance, ever so passionate but this was different kind of passion. He was fierce, completely devoted to what he was playing, hitting the notes like his life depended on it. He didn’t had any tattoos adoring his skin and his ears weren’t pierced like his friends' but he had an exeptional energy in him, power that he emphasized with every move, every tap of his drumsticks. For you, he was the most divine of them all, the brightest spot on the stage. A born performer, flesh and bones.

The song was catchy, something quite similar to the ones Hoseok had sent you after many ‘pretty pleases' from you. Jimin and Jungkook's voices were blending together just fine and you found yourself bopping to the rhythm of the music until you felt Hana's hand on your shoulder. You turned around in her direction with a smile that quickly disappeared when you saw her expression. She looked like she had just seen a ghost. Even in the dimmed lighting you could distingiush she was paler than before.

She leaned towards your ear and half-yelled, trying to outshot the crowd, “I need to get some fresh. I don't feel well.”

You looked at her with worriedly. “I'll go with you,” you declared but Hana stopped you.

“No, stay here,” she protested firmly. “Enjoy the show. I'll wait for you outside until it's over.”

“You sure?” you asked, earning a nodd from her along with a light smile that didn’t look much convincing but before you could say anything else, Hana was making her way through sweaty, bouncing bodies again. You watched anxiously as her blonde hair disappeared between the mass of nameless people and then, the song was over. You released a long breath and glanced at the stage.

Namjoon took the mic and tapped on it a few times. “Ehm, hi. We're Punk's not dead, as you know probably,” he chuckled lightly, making you smile, despite the uneasy feeling in your chest about Hana. “I'm Namjoon and I’m the leader of the group. I thought it could be nice if I introduce everyone before we start so... here we go. On the left, there's Jimin,” He pointed at the pink-haired man and audience, mainly female attendants, cheered loudly. Jimin smirked lopsidedly.

Namjoon continued, “Next there's Jungkook,” The youngest lifted his head and smiled boyishly in bunny-like manner, scrunching his nose in process. He looked familiar, you thought to yourself. Strange.

“And, our amazing drummer: Hoseok!” Namjoon presented and you screamed upon hearing Hoseok's name before you could realise what on Earth you were doing. Hoseok stood up from his seat and grinned broadly, waving to the crowd. Then, miraculously, his eyes landed on you and if that was even possible, his smile visible widened. You thanked whatever gods that existed he couldn’t see the way your cheeks flushed.

“Thank you for coming here today. I hope you'll have a great time,” Namjoon said. “And now, we are going to play our new song called Cigarettes after sex*, written and self-composed by Jimin. Enjoy.” he finished, nodding to his friends.

The song was beautiful, it carried the lash of melancholy and sadness behind every single word that Jimin sang and he visibly felt it too, making it seem even more real by the sheer emotions of heartache written on his beautiful features.

They played a few more songs after that one, some of them were covers of the bands you were familiar with thanks to Hoseok and his signature t-shirts. Before you could blink an eye, it was over and Namjoon was thanking everyone one more time for coming and then they disappeared behind the black curtains after receiving a loud applause for their performance.

You stayed like that for a while, still basking in aftermath of everything that had just happened, humming to yourself some melody from one of the songs you had heard tonight. You turned your back to the stage, watching other people leaving the bar. Lost in your own world, you definitely didn’t hear footsteps behind you.

“Did you enjoy your time, princess?”

You jumped in your place, twirling to the direction of the voice you knew so damn well. Hoseok was smirking at you while crouching down on the stage. His friends were also there, behind him, packing their stuff.

When you calmed down your breathing enough, you shouted, “What the fuck, Hoseok?! I told you to not do things like that to me!”

He only chuckled in response, smiling cockily at the furious flush on your cheeks. “I asked you a question,” he reminded.

What was it? Ah, right, he asked about the concert. You pursued lips, crossing your arms over chest. You wanted to say it was showstopping, spectacular and all those adjectives Lady Gaga had used in that famous meme video of hers but you didn’t.

“It was decent.”

A smirk appeared on Hoseok's face. “Decent, huh? Wouldn't say so, after seeing you cheering so loudly in first row,” he teased. ‘’I'm flattered. I’ve never had such devoted fan of myself.”

He thought that pink blush which colored your cheeks was cute. Fuck, you were cute, trying to cover your embarrassment with an unamused expression.

“I cheered for your friends, you know? Not you.” you mocked but it was pointless, he was already standing up from his position, knowing what was the truth.

“Come on, let's go to the backstage,” He made quotation mark on the word backstage while saying it. You grimaced. “There’s nice after party setting up there,” he tried again, this time pouting slightly and you eventually gave up. You had promised you would come, after all. Hoseok grinned when you followed his footsteps, walking to the supply base at the back of the bar.

“Jungkookie!" Hoseok shouted before he twisted the knob, whirling around for a quick moment. Jungkook lifted his head up in Hoseok's direction. “Don't forget to close the door when you finish packing!”

The youngest member nodded, going back to his previous work.

Beside you and Hoseok's bandmates, inside the ‘backstage’ was the same handsome bartender from earlier, Namjoon's brother as you assumed, and a woman with dark, shoulder-length hair that stood next to Namjoon, leaning into his body. He had his arms wrapped around her, talking to his brother about something. She introduced herself as Minhee, Namjoon's girlfriend, extending her hand to you in friendly gesture when you approached them with Hoseok.

“Oh, we met before, by the bar. I’m Seokjin, the owner of this lovely place.” Namjoon's brother, Seokiin, said, shaking your hand.

“Hyung, you can't give it a miss, can you,” Namjoon grumbled behind his back but Seokjin ignored him. That wasn’t probably the first time he flexed about owning a bar, you thought to yourself.

“How did you like the concert, darling?” Seokjin asked you suddenly.

You rushed to reply. “Oh, it was really nice! I’ve never been to anything like that before but I enjoyed it very much.” you responded. Hoseok muttered something about you being a liar under his breath but you acted like you didn’t hear him. “I really liked the second song, the slow one.” you added, averting your gaze to Jimin who was sitting with his head bowed down in front of the vodka bottle.

Seokjin patted him on the shoulder. “Yah, did you hear that Jimin-ah? You’ve got a fan of your sad songs here!” he said, breaking into laughter but Namjoon stopped him by sending his brother a warning look. Jimin though barely even acknowledged his or your words, lifting his head up for a brief moment and eyeing your figure without any emotion on his face. Then he got back to the glass of alcohol again, pouring the substance into his mouth in one go.

“He broke up with his girlfriend like six months ago or something and still hasn’t quite move on,” Hoseok whispered into your ear. You let out an “Oh,”, sending one last apologetic smile to Jimin, even though he wasn’t looking at you at all.

Hoseok motioned you to sit by the table with others and you positioned yourself between Namjoon's girlfriend and Hoseok. The only absent person seemed to be Jungkook who was probably still fumbling with packing their stuff.

The conversation was oscillating around the concert. Hoseok mentioned that the audience had been much bigger than the last time and Namjoon kept babbling about some technical issue with his guitar that you couldn’t understand.

“Don't worry. I've been with him for three years and I still know shit about what he's talking about too," Minhee said to you, probably after seeing your clueless expression. You both bursted out into laughter.

You were supposed to ask her how had she and Namjoon had met but Seokjin interrupted you, walking in with a bottle of champagne.

“Where the hell is this kid Jungkook?” he grumbled. Hoseok quickly explained he was packing their stuff on stage when he last had seen him. Seokjin hummed and placed the bottle on the table. “And what about your blonde friend, darling?” he directed next question to you.

You froze in place.

Holy shit. You completely forgot about Hana.

You didn’t respond to Seokjin, so he assumed you hadn’t heard him and went back to opening the champagne bottle.

You pulled out your phone from the pursue and cried out in mortification after seeing the messages.

[22:11pm] Hana: I was at mcdonalds across the street lol im heading to the bar now

[22:11pm] Hana: come up for me please

[22:15pm] Hana: ???

10 minutes ago.

“Fuck!” you muttered under your breath, frantically typing a response.

“Is everything ok?” Hoseok asked, his voice laced with concern.

You shook your head. “I forgot to come up for my friend after the concert. She wasn’t feeling well so she left and stayed outside.” you hastily explained, already standing up from your seat, clutching your phone in hand. Hoseok followed after you.

You pushed the door open, although the sight you saw behind them wasn’t anything you could ever expected. The surprised words escaped Hoseok's and your mouth simultaneously.

“Hana?”

“Jungkook?”

They stood facing each other, looking like they were interrupted by you mid conversation, probably in too close proximity for people supposed to be strangers. Hana's astonished face leaned out from behind Jungkook's tall body in the direction of the voices. Slowly, like she didn’t expect to be caught this way. And that was weird, beacuse she looked like she didn’t want to be seen in Jungkook's presence by the others, like their close proximity was something that shouldn't have been acknowledged.

Jungkook turned around as well, however ever so recultanty. And then, when you saw his face clearly now, jet-black hair and inked arms, it all crashed you like a wave. That was why he seemed to look so familiar. You knew him, maybe not personally, but you knew who he was. The boy from Hana's photograph she had pinned to her cork board when you had been living together. A beach with crystal blue sea behid their backs, the same boy yet with less tattoos than now, carrying your friend on his back, both grinning to the camera like it had been the happiest moment of their lives. Until one day Hana was gone and so was the photograph.

You felt like you were interrupting something too intimate for you to step in with your shoes like that. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but Hoseok helped you out instead. And you thanked him for that mentally because you weren’t sure of your mouth anymore.

“Looks like your friend is safe and sound.”

Hana snapped out of her previous shocked haze upon hearing his words and automatically composured herself. She took a few meassured steps away from Jungkook. Gone was the slight shock on her face, she was back to her calmed persona. “Yeah, I'm all good. I was about to text you I’m going home.” she said, her words directed to you. She then exchanged quick glances with Jungkook, glances that could look the simplest from other people’s perspective but not for you.

Hoseok though, fortunately, didn’t seem to feel something was apparently off here. It was for the better he thought like that. “So you won't stay to celebrate with us?” he asked Hana.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. He was still standing there, unsure of what to do

Hana shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m still tired and jet-lagged from my flight so I will just wish you great time and go.”

“You sure? I can go with you too, if you want,” you suggested after containing yourself enough to finally vocalize some thoughts. But Hana only smiled at you. Forcefully, which didn’t miss your attention.

“It's okay. I want you to have fun. I already called a cab for myself anyway” she reassured.

Hoseok protested. “Someone could drive you home. I’m sure Jungkook wouldn't mind–”

“It's fine, really.” Hana said firmly and you knew by the clench of her fists she was slowly losing her patience. At the same time, Jungkook's eyes flickered ever so slightly after hearing his hyung's words and then went back to his previous unreadable stare.

Seeing Hoseok opened his mouth to protest, you took his wrist, hoping he would take the hint and not add anything more.

“I must really go now. Take care of Y/N and have fun.” Hana smiled politely, looking at Hoseok and he reciprocated the gesture. She didn’t really acknowledge Jungkook at all, even though he had somehow his gaze fixated on her the whole time. But Hana did that all pursposelly, so Hoseok couldn’t suspect anything. She wasn’t stupid after all. Well crafted actress knew how to act.

She came up to you, hugging you briefly. “We'll talk tomorrow.” she whispered into your ear because she knew that you couldn’t be fooled so easily, that you felt something was not right from the very beginning since she had announced her comeback from the States.

Hana waved one last time to you, exiting the bar. You could swear Jungkook's eyes lingered on her figure a little too long to be considered unbothered, until he turned around and went back to the stage. You prayed Hoseok wasn’t going to ask him what had he been talking about with Hana or why did he even decide to approach her like that.

“Come on. Let's go back. Jungkookie will close the door.” Hoseok said instead.

You listened, letting him take your wrist and walk to the supply base for the second time tonight. You wondered for a moment if Jungkook was going to chase after Hana, but you shook your mind from those thoughts. It wasn’t your life to make decisions and judge them.

A little while after you sat on your seat again, Jungkook came back as well and you somehow felt the rush of relief swimming through your whole body. He slumped down next to Jimin on the couch and said something to him you couldn't make out exactly, but pink-haired man laughed bitterly at that, filling his best friend's glass to the brim.

Next two hours you spent there passed like a blurr. You kept talking with Namjoon's girlfriend practically the whole time. You found out Minhee was studying medicine and she had met Namjoon through some discussion club she had joined in her freshman year. It had been attraction from the first disagreement, as she described it cheekily.

When Namjoon called for Minhee to talk about something on the side, you averted your attention to Hoseok who was sitting in front of his empty glass and scrolling through the phone, clearly discontent with you intentionally avoiding his attempts to tease you about something you had said, or avoiding him in general.

“Aren't you drinking anything?” you asked him with raised eyebrows.

Hoseok snorted. “Someone has to drive you home, princess.”

“Bullshit. I can take the cab.”

“Well then, I don’t feel like drinking anyway.”

You eyed him carefully and then it hit you. “Oh my God,” you blurted out, trying to stifle the giggles blubbering in your throat. “You are not drinking because you are a lightweight!” you accused, not even hiding your amusement now.

“That's not true,” Hoseok grumbled but his red ears gave him away. He was a bad liar.

You pushed his chest with your index finger. “Admit it!”

Hoseok looked at the ceiling and sighed heavily. “Fine, I am. And what about it?”

You giggled. It was probably some champagne mixed with wine you had drank with Minhee speaking through you but you didn’t falter when you said, “Nothing at all. That's cute.”

Hoseok frowned. “Cute?”

“Yeah, cute. You're cute when you're flustered.”

Hoseok parted his lips in both disbelief and annoyance because relatively speaking, you took it out from his mouth. It was his remark, for God's sake, he was the one supposed to say things like that to you. He hadn't drunk even a drop except one, symbolic glass of champagne yet he wanted to argue with you about it like five years old child. Because if anything, you were prettier and yes, cuter than him, and he had a sudden urge to spell it out for you.

Yet he faltered for a moment after hearing abrupt glass crashing from the other corner of the room. You looked in that direction too, seeing half-conscious Jimin slumped down on the couch, Jungkook sitting next to him and saying things to him you didn’t hear. You could make out only “hyung” and “please, calm down” falling from younger's mouth.

Jimin seemed like he had no idea about what was going on around him. When he opened his eyes for a moment they were bloodshot and glassy, probably from too much alcohol he had drank before, or maybe even from something else entirely. Then he murmured something to Jungkook and black-haired boy sighed, standing up from his position and approaching Namjoon and Minhee furiously talking about something in the far corner of the room.

“Here we go again,” Hoseok breathed next to you and you scrunched your eyebrows, focusing your attention on the scene in front of you.

“Hyung, please–”

“No, Jungkook. We can't do that again.”

“Please, I swear it's the last time. He won't let me take him home unless it's with her,” Jungkook pleaded. “It'll worsen anytime soon. I don't want to see him like this."

Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you think I don't know that Jungkook?! Last time was supposed to be last. And now it's happening again. We can’t continue it like this,” he said, looking in Jimin's direction where Seokjin was trying now to convince him to let go of the half empty vodka bottle Jimin was clutching tightly to his chest.

“Hyung...”

“Stop arguing. I already texted her like 20 minutes ago when I heard he started talking about her again. She's on her way,” Minhee interrupted. “But this has to end. He–they can’t live like that.” she said and Jungkook breathed out heavily with relief, thanking her over and over.

Hoseok hummed next to you, making you jump slightly on your seat from the sudden sound so close in your proximity. “What's happening?” you asked him and he let out a long sigh.

“I don't think you want to see that. I should take you home.”

But before you could answer, someone banged loudly on the back door. Seokjin moved from his seat and opened them, letting inside a girl around your age, dressed in all black. Her hair was dyed in red and she didn’t have any make up on, assuming by the ungodly hour she might have been woken up or she hadn't gone to bed at all.

“Who’s that?” you whispered to Hoseok’s ear.

“That's Nari,” he answered simply, like her name was carrying all the needed information without giving into other details. “Jimin's ex girlfriend and probably the only source of light in his life.”

Nari moved automatically, like it definitely wasn’t the first time she was in similar situation. She crunched down on the floor in front of Jimin's slumped body and touched his thigh lightly, murmuring his name. Jimin's eyes snapped open at that and he blinked a few times, focusing on the sight before him, like he couldn't actually believe she was there, with him, like his head was messing with him and betraying the bloodshot eyes.

“Nari,” he muttered and it sounded unsure, pained. “You're here. You came.”

“Yes, I’m here.” she replied with a soft smile, standing up to sit next to him on the couch.

Jimin's hands reached for her, cupping her face in his shaky palms, thumbs stroking rosy cheeks, checking if she was really here, flesh and blood. “You dyed your hair,” he said softly with croaked voice, putting a strand behind her ear. “You look beautiful.”

It all felt too intimate for you, like you were stepping into a scene you weren’t suppose to be in. You quickly averted your gaze somewhere else. In the corner of your eye you spotted Jungkook looking at what was happening in front of him with blank expression. He had seen it probably many times before, after all. Suddenly, strangled sobs echoed through the room and everyone involuntarily snapped their heads into direction of it.

Nari was hugging Jimin's shaking body, rocking him back and forth as he cried out words into the material of her jacket.

“Please, don't leave me.”

“I won't. I’m here. It's okay,” she kept murmuring to his ear until his breath slowed down enough so she could say, “Let's go home.”

She motioned for Jungkook and he obliged, helping her lift Jimin's limp body from the couch like he weighted nothing. They left without a word, just like that, and heavy silence fell in the room. No one was in right mood to continue celebrating, not after everything that they had just witnessed.

Namjoon was the first one to break the silence. “We will be going. It's been a long day.” he said, placing his hand on Minhee's waist.

“Indeed.” Seokjin agreed. “I’m gonna go upstairs to my place too. I’ll clean up in the morning.”

Hoseok also stood up from his seat, putting his palm on your shoulder. “Come on. It's time for us too.”

You nodded, rushing to bid everyone goodbyes.

Outside, in the middle of the night, where all the demons had left humans bodies making them vulnerable for the bracketing world, you took Hoseok's hand in yours. It was warm, despite the coldness of the air.

“What would you say if we took a walk by the river? I need to clear my mind.”

The puffs of air around your face when you spoke were telling you it was a bad idea, but Hoseok smiled in response.

“I’ll lead the way.”

Long walks by the river were meant for warm summer nights when sun set lately and rose in the very morning before you could blink an eye open. They were meant for the steamy nights, when people didn’t have to worry about the coldness, when they could wander under the starry sky with bare shoulders and heavy eyelids.

October absolutely wasn’t reasonable time for the walks in the middle of the night but this time he weather was kind, merciful. There was no sight of the frost and even though it wasn’t the most pleasant aura, even though hands had to be tucked deep in pockets of the jackets, everything could be bearable.

Maybe somehow, when you reached that point in your life, circumstances stopped being the most crucial, as long as you were with the right person.

Boulevards by the Han River were common spot for the citizens and tourists but not in this time of the year, not when fall was threatening everyone as a trailer of the winter. Colorful lights illuminating themselves on the surface of the water were always the same, no matter which part of the year it was; always mesmerizing, always spectacular even for the people seeing them every single day.

This night however, they seemed to shine not as bright as the stars.

“I feel bad for Jimin and this girl,” you said, breathing out the puffs of air in the process. It had been silent between you and Hoseok since you had left the disaster of a party until this very moment, when you finally gathered up enough courage and inhaled cold air to clear your mind and vocalize your thoughts. “Do you know why did they break up?” you asked Hoseok.

“I don't know the details, just overall,” he answered, keeping his gaze ahead of him. “The only person who knows the truth is probably Jungkook but he had never told us anything.”

You hummed, digging your fists into the pocket of your jacket deeper.

Hoseok continued after a while. “I didn’t lie when I said she was the only source of light for Jimin. Beside her and music, he has nothing to cling onto in his life. There's no Jimin without music. Always has been.”

The images from the previous hours shimmered behind your eyelids. Jimin onstage, feeling himself, singing like he wanted to burn his throat dry, playing the guitar like he wished his fingers grated on the strings. A fierce passion in his eyes, as if he wasn't doing it out of the habit; losing himself in the drumming rhythm because that was his only ability. Then you saw the energy slowly draining away from his body, you saw a broken man, vulnerable to the world he had never had any intention to care about, now caring about him.

You wondered about the others. Was music their one true love and burden?

“What about your friends then? Is music really that important for them too?”

Hoseok thought about an answer for a little while until he decided to respond. “Jungkook grew up with Jimin in the same hometown. Childhood friends, always sticking together through ups and downs, younger doing exactly the same after the older. Jimin always took care of Jungkook and now Jungkook is watching by Jimin.”

You let your mind wander for a moment to Hana. How did she meet Jungkook? There was no doubt they knew each other before she had become your roommate. Did she know Jimin too, if they were raised in the same town? Another couple of questions you were yet to ask but this could wait for now.

“The band and music it's their whole life. They aren't like Namjoon, level-headed with actual plans after he finishes his law studies. Music is just a hobby he's going to put off once he's out of uni.” Hoseok added and there was some sadness about the way he did it, like they were another words at the tip of his tongue he wouldn't dare to say aloud because when unspoken, they hurt less.

“And you?”

Hoseok raised his eyebrows. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. Who am I talking to?” you sassed lightly. “How do you see yourself in three years from now?” you asked and Hoseok chuckled the same way he did when you questioned him about it a month ago in Blue Side. Bitterly.

You motioned for him to sit on one of the benches standing by the boulevards.

“Do you have everything planned for the next three years?” Hoseok countered instead of actually answering you. He waited for you to roll your eyes but you did the exact opposite.

“Well, my mum always tells me that it's good to set up your goals. Even though sometimes you might disappoint yourself when they turn out all wrong.”

Hoseok chuckled. “There's a ballerina speaking through you, princess. And motivational speaker, too.”

“Maybe, but that's not my point,” you fired back, twirling around on the bench so you could sit cross-legged in front of him. “So, Jung Hoseok, hip-hop choreographer wanna be and passionate drummer, will you tell me what are your plans for the future?” you asked again. When you saw him hesitate, you added, ‘”Come on, pretend it's like our 100 questions game. I asked you a question and you shall answer.”

Hoseok sighed heavily. “I think I told you once that I just live the moment,”

“But everyone has some dreams,” you complained. Go on, tell me something boy, are you happy in this modern world,” you sing-songed, breaking into loud laughter in the process that made him chuckle shortly.

Hoseok stared for a few seconds blankly into the calm surface of the river before him, watching as colorful lights changed from blue to green. Sadness blending into hope. He took a deep breath before he spoke.

“Remember when I told you I had moved to Seoul to attend dance school there?” You nodded. “And how I told my parents I was going to study business really hard so they could allow me to learn dancing?” Another nod. “Well, my parents were never quite fond of my passions. First it was drums but they knew from the beginning I treated it more like a hobby than a future career, so they let me do it. Then dancing came. I found something I really wanted to pursue in my life and they, how to put this, never quite accepted my choice.” he said, looking at his hands folded on his lap.

You had never seen him more uneasy, the smiling Hoseok who teased you and and spoke about music with glint in his eyes was long gone and you didn't like this version of him at all.

“You know, I’ve got an older sister. She was-is the apple of my parents eyes. The better child, the best daughter they could ever imagine. She studied abroad, speaks English and Japanese, has a well paid job that makes her afford a nice apartment in Seoul on her own. They wanted me to be like her too, but I guess I never came up to their expectations.” The words he never willed to tell, slipped from his mouth just like that, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.

There was a sadness coming from his voice and you found yourself wishing you could swipe it off his face because it didn’t suit him, because gone was Hoseok that made you laugh and played his drums like his life depended on it. Hoseok who conveyed his fierce passion for dancing to the kids he was teaching. All the layers he was putting on every day were slowly slipping off him.

And in that moment you thought how unfair this world was. Your parents gave you wings to fly, to make your dreams come true but his parents were trying to cut them off his whole life.

“I went to the university so I could finally please them, so they would say: ‘Hoseok-ah, we’re so proud of you!’ but I eventually realised it's not for me. That I can't live like this. I met Namjoon, then the rest of the boys. We made a team and I've never felt more free,” Hoseok confessed and for the first time this night, he looked you in the eyes honestly, deeply. “So if you asked me, what's my dream, I would say I just want to be happy. I’ve never wanted to be the best. I just wish I was doing what I love the most, dancing and music.”

You opened your mouth to say something but he raised his hand, stopping you. “If you want to pity me, don’t. I don’t need this.” he said, but it was your turn to shake your head.

“No, I want to say something,” you firmly protested. You lifted your index finger up, pointing at the blackboard sky. There was determination in your voice, a need to convince this boy he was worth much more than he thought. “See those stars? There are literally millions of them on the sky, looking exactly the same from our perspective yet we all admire them. And I’ll tell you more. Every single one is different, special on its own terms,” you said, all the time beating the air with your hands. You ignored the way Hoseok stared at you with raised eyebrows and continued, “Now think about the sun. Yes, it is the biggest star, giant thing and the centre of our solar system but it’ll burn your eyes if you look at it for too long. Those significant stars won't do it and we all wish our dreams to come true while looking at them falling, not at the sun.”

A small smile appeared on Hoseok's face and you reciprocated that, sighing softly. “What I’m trying to say is that you don't have to be the greatest to be admired and respected. You are your own star.” you trailed off, almost whispering the last words like you were afraid of vocalizing them.

You were staring into each other eyes for a whole minute, before you got insecure and looked away with flushed cheeks. “I'm sorry. That was my probably still a little drunk self speaking, don’t mind me. Hana would say it is also my zodiac sign's personality trait.” You put your hands on your cheeks, finding them warm from embarrassment despite the coldness of the night.

If you glanced in Hoseok's direction, you would see him grinning broadly. Who was this girl, he had no idea. He just felt she was going to be someone special for him. His own green flashlight illuminating on the clear surface of the water.

“No, it's okay. I really appreciate that. Thank you.” he said, making you hesitantly turned to face him with raised eyebrows.

“You're welcome. I guess.”

“So,” Hoseok drawled, pointing his chin at you and then on the sky. “How do stars align tonight for Aquariuses?” he asked out of the blue. You thanked it was the middle of the night, so he couldn’t witness the way you furiously blushed.

“Why don't you look for yourself?” you whispered, staring up at the dark, starry sky.

But why would he look at the stars, if for him all of them hid in your eyes?

At some point, next weeks turned into a blurr while gloomy November was approaching, blending everything into grey reality. Life seemed to move on its own and it could be thought that things went back to normal again but deep down, behind set up facades, there was so much more left unspoken than revealed, lying bare and exposed on the table.

You balanced your life between classes at the university, ballet rehearsals after hours and doing your part time job on weekends. With the midterm exams getting closer and closer, you somehow still managed to find time to hang out with Hoseok.

It was weird for you, to spend so much of your free time drinking coffees at Blue Side, eating ramen after practices on Fridays or just listening to him babbling about some other hilarious story involving him and his friends as you walked together to the underground station, with your hand in his under the umbrella, referencing to Rihanna's song probably too many times than necessary.

And normally, looking at you from afar and up close, seeing the intimacy you shared in your stares and muffled laughters, someone could swear you were already dating, that this hanging out carried so much more meaning than you would like to admit. But for some reason, neither Hoseok nor you wanted to speak about this aloud, to give your relationship a label much more bigger than simple friendship.

People around you noticed, obviously, it was hard not to. Some of them teased, others decided not to bring up the subject for the sake of not starting a storm in a teacup.

And life went on like that, day by day, as fall was cleaning the world from the last remains of summer, behind blurry windows a new spring was blossoming for two people.

In the middle of November Hana moved out from your appartment after composing her life enough to afford a place on her own. She got a role in a theater, doing rehearsals every weekend and keeping her mind busy with work during weekdays, because she indeed had a lot to handle since she had come back. And certain raven-haired boy being present again in her life wasn't helping in this situation at all. If anything, his position in the equation made everything much more twisted and complicated.

While your friend was burried deep in her scripts and old blurrs of memories, you were equally engulfed with paper work for your exams. You would have been probably still staring at the same pages for the whole night, if you hadn’t received a message from no one other than Jung Hoseok himself.

[18:56pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: get your ass up from the couch and go out with me today

[18:56pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: theres some punk rock concert today organized on the campus of YOUR uni

[18:58pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: namjoon gave me his tickets since he cant go with his gf

[18:59pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: actually im surprised you didn’t tell me anything about this concert. shame on you princess

There was a string of emojis after the last text and you rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your heart fluttered in your chest when you read go out with me, but you eventually composed yourself. Because after all this time, you thought it meant nothing. Simple hanging out, nothing more, nothing less.

[18:59pm] me: fyi i need to study

[18:59pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: come on one free night wont make a big difference

When you weren’t responding for a while, leaving him on read, he typed:

[19:03pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: pretty pleaseee

But he didn’t know you were already in the bathroom, notes long forgotten on the couch.

“They were sooo bad!”

“Hey, don’t be mean. At least they tried!”

“Oh please, I’m not punk rock expert but I know this Paradise City cover sucked.”

You were walking out of the small campus venue for the concerts, laughing until your lungs burned and cheeks hurt from smiling. The concert didn’t last long, just a few covers and one self composed song, more was actually happening right when you decided to go, leaving the ongoing party behind your backs.

“But they organized free beer. I think I might forgive them,” you added, slurring your words a little and occasionally bumping into Hoseok in the process of trying to stay steady on your feet.

Drinking wasn’t probably the smartest idea you could think of after considering two facts. One: Hoseok hadn't drunk even a sip beacuse he was driving. Two: you had an awful habit of becoming too honest under the influence. And combining those two things was like sitting on a bomb and waiting for it to explode any minute.

You sat in Hoseok’s car with heavy exhale of relief. “Remind me to never drink that much again when I have to study the next day.” you mumbled, closing your eyes and leaning your head on the window.

“Noted.” Hoseok sat down as well, smirking to himself. He reached for the keys but your next words stopped him.

“Can we like, stay here for a while? In your car I mean.” you asked with hesitation in your voice and Hoseok's eyebrows rose high.

“Why?”

“Because it feels nice here. And maybe I don't wanna go back just yet.” The words slipped out from your mouth so casually that you didn’t even noticed the change in the atmosphere. To hell with consequences and aftermaths, to hell with becoming vulnerable when alcohol was swimming in your veins.

Hoseok smiled, even though you couldn’t see him. “Fine. But puke in here and I swear to God–”

“Geez, I hadn’t drink that much,” you snapped, opening your eyes. “Turn on some music, mister drummer. Hit me with that punk rock hits.”

Maybe you had drunk that much after all.

Hoseok chuckled to himself, opening his Spotify and connecting it to the car's radio. “What do you have in mind?”

“Do I look like an expert?” you retorted for the second time this night and Hoseok rolled his eyes. “Just put it on shuffle and I’ll tell you what I like.”

He did as he was told and soon the heavy beats of something that said Stairway to Heaven lighted up on the screen in front of you. You scrunched your eyebrows. “Stairway to Heaven, Highway to Hell, what’s next? Freeway to Purgatory?”

There was a moment of silence before you erupted into laughter. “Fuck, that was funny. Admit it.” you said, wiping the tears that had gathered in the corners of your eyes.

“I'm pretty sure someone had come up with this joke before.”

“God, you’re no fun. Only intellectuals can understand this type of humor and unfortunately, you aren’t one.”

Hoseok ignored your words, changing the song and this one you recognized more than well. “Leave it!” you blurted, causing him to smirk.

“Ah, right. I forgot you’re that original,” he said in mocking tone.

Your lips turned into a scoff. “Hey, don’t disrespect Arctic Monkeys’ AM album this way. That's a masterpiece of modern discography, better than your ‘classics’ sang by old dudes. Alex Turner is hot at least.” You pointed your index finger at him accusingly. When he was about to disagree, you added, “Besides, you have this on your playlist, so don't try to bullshit me right now. You like it as well.”

Hoseok sighed in defeat. “Okay. I wanna be yours it's a nice song. I admit it.”

“Yeah. It is,” you breathed, closing your eyes for a second, basking in the moment. “I always wanted someone to fuck me to Arctic Monkeys.”

Before you could stop yourself, the words escaped your mouth and your heartbeat immediately quickened in panic. Fuck, had you really said that out loud? The look of pure surprise mixed with amusement on Hoseok's face were telling you that you indeed revealed that you wanted to get dicked down while Arctic Monkeys played in the background. And of all people you knew, you had to do it in his presence.

Screw your drank thoughts and fantasies, screw stupid string of fate that always played games with you, even now.

You tried to compose yourself a little, acting completely nonchalant about what had just happened. You wore a disguise of unbotherness as best you could (which was pointless, your flushed cheeks and uneasy way you squirmed on your seat said it all for you).

You wished Hoseok didn’t react, that he somehow had misheard your drunken rumbling but it was all foolish hopes.

“Careful what you wish for, princess, because you might just get it.” he whispered and you could swear his voice was lower now, it carried husskiness that weren’t there before. It wasn’t a warning.

It was a threat.

You gulped, your face heating up instantly even more, if that was possible. Suddenly it was hard to breathe in a limited space of his car and you wanted to get out, to run away from him as fast as you could muster and hide, not standing face to face with him ever again.

But at the same time you couldn’t shake off the thought how good and right would it feel if you pressed your lips against his now, run your tongue through the seam of his mouth just to hear him groan in response, just to feel his teeth nipping the skin on your neck while his fingers were digging marks on your hips.

You wanted him, oh, God how much you did, but you had to stop yourself before you made a big mistake.

The atmosphere was thick and heavy with unresolved tension, ready to snap in a minute if only someone made a wrong move. His words rang in your head and you wished you had never left your house that night in first place. Was he for real? Or had he said that only to make fun of you after?

You were too scared to look in his eyes but if you did, you would see in them the raw desire swimming in his dark orbs. And if you did, you would know just how sure of his words he actually was.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you regained your composure as best as you could and muttered, “I don't feel well. Can you drive me home now?” Your tone wasn’t probably much convincing, if anything it sounded weak and strangled, so you added to lighten up the mood, “You don't want me to puke in here, do you?” and forced out a chuckle.

Hoseok only nodded in response, reaching for the keys and turning on the engine. If he was disappointed, he hid it pretty well. After a few minutes of ride back to your home, there was mute between you, except for the music still playing from the radio. His words not even for a second left your head and you replayed them again and again just to make you more and more confused with each time you tried to understand the hidden motive behind them.

Hoseok was hard to read, you realised that since he had became strangely silent after you asked him about his plans for the future on your first coffee meeting at Blue Side. Now you knew why. He’d said he had a lot to reveal about himself yet, after all.

When you bid him short goodbye and finally reached the doors of your apartment, you crunched down on the ground after closing them and shut your eyes tightly. Somehow, tears started to ran down your face and you found yourself clutching your phone and dialing the only number you could think about in this moment.

“Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?” Hana's voice was hoarse, she had been woken up from her slumber without a doubt. “You know I go to sleep earlier than you,” There was a sniffle on the other line and she changed her tone immediately. “What's wrong, bub? Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying,” you tried to protest shakily but there was no point in denying when you sounded like that.

“What happened?” You heard Hana asking softly.

Another wave of tears jolted your body, smearing mascara all down your cheeks and when you calmed down enough to speak clearly, you mumbled, “I told Hoseok that I always wanted someone to fuck me to Arctic Monkeys.”

“Okay…? And how did he react?”

Another sob. “He said I should be careful what I wish for.”

There was a bit of silence before Hana sighed on the other side of the line. “That's not the end of the world. You’ve done worse things in your life.”

“But that's different this time.” you cried out hysterically.

Hana smiled to herself even though you couldn’t see her now. She knew why it was different. She was aware for a while now, but she needed you to say this out loud.

A loud cry echoed through the quiet apartment before you finally said what had been lying on the tip of your tongue for a while now.

“It's different because I think I really like him.”

And fresh fall of tears streamed down your cheeks.

---

a/n: aaaah! it’s finally here! i was supposed to post this by the end of february but my laptop got broken and i got a new one yesterday so im sorry for the delay:( i hope you like it!

ps. second part is coming in two or weeks! love you, julia. xx

#hoseok smut #bts smut #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #smutcentralnet #btsbookclub #bangtanhq #btswriterscollective #hyungsmutsociety #hoseok fluff #hoseok angst #bts scenario #bts fanfic #hoseok x reader #hoseok fic #my writing

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