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#the scenes in this concert are much cleaner than i expected
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katehuntington · 4 years
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Title: In Bad Waters - part six Word count: ±3400 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part six summary: Sam goes back to Zoë’s hotel to pick up his lost phone, but the state he finds her in is both shocking and familiar. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​ and @deanwanddamons​​​. Thanks, girls!
Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist
S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist
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     Preparing himself for a rant, Sam knocks on the door of room 17. He’s standing in the corridor of the Hampton Inn after the receptionist allowed him upstairs, recognizing him from the night before and believing his story when he gave her an excuse. It takes a while before someone grants him access to the suite, but when he’s about to knock for the second time, the door opens.      “Sam...” Zoë grunts, sounding like a sixty year old whiskey drinker who smokes at least a pack a day. 
     As he enters the room, he notices the gun in her right hand, which she held behind the door in case she had bad company. The music playlist from last night is still playing, 2+2= by Bob Seger currently on. Zoë adjusts her PJ shorts, the Nirvana shirt hanging from one shoulder and her wavy hair a bird’s nest; she looks like she’s experiencing the worst hangover ever.      “Are you alright?” Sam checks, carefully.      “Yeah, just a bad night,” she mutters.      “You were fine when I left,” he recalls, surprised by her state.      She doesn’t respond and drags her feet to the bathroom. Sam hears the water falling down in the sink. She’s probably attempting to freshen up a little.      “I left my phone here somewhere,” Sam informs, before Zoë asks about his visit.      No answer, not even a smart comment. Somewhat worried, Sam peeks around the corner. Zoë is leaning on the sink with one hand, pressuring her other palm against her forehead. She has her eyes firmly shut, every muscle in her body tenses; she’s in pain.      “You’re not alright,” Sam notices and walks in to support her, but she shrugs him off.      “It’s nothing, just leave me alone,” the huntress snaps.
     Without granting Sam another second of her attention, Zoë saunters into the room and turns down the music, annoyed by the sound of the guitar that only amplifies the throbbing inside her skull. Instead, she switches on the TV while rubbing her face, steadying herself against the back of the sofa. 
     As Sam observes her, the gears in his head start to turn. She seems ill, feverish almost, as if she’s fighting off an infection. Something about her conditions is familiar. Unable to catch a breath, clammy skin, dizziness. The feeling of being run over by a sixteen wheeler, a bass drum pounding through one’s head, as if they were inches from an amplifier at a concert all night long. Then it clicks. 
     “You had a vision.”
     Startled, Zoë looks aside. Shit. How the hell did he pick up on that? Surely she’s a mess, but Sam must have the exact same symptoms in order for him to figure it out this fast. She cannot let him know, though, and so she recovers quickly.      “No, I didn’t. It's migraines.” She shrugs it off and looks back at the television.      Sam keeps reading her while the local TV station brings them the latest news. She tries to concentrate on the screen, but feels Sam’s burning eyes. Then she snaps at him.      “Stop trying to find things that aren’t there, Sam.”      “You’re lying.” Sam knows.      She sighs with an eye roll and turns up the volume.      “No, I’m not. Now drop it.”      “I’m not gonna drop it.” He steps between her and the TV, blocking her view. “You were dying to know about my visions from the moment you learned I have them.”      “I’m watching that,” she voices, annoyed with his intrusion.      “And I’m talking to you,” Sam returns with an attitude.
     She gives him a look that could kill and steps around him to have a clear view of the screen again, trying her best to ignore the hunter and not blow up on the guy. He better not push her, because he has no idea what would be coming for him.      “Headaches, black spots, nausea right after you wake up,” Sam sums up. “You have them.”      “Would you shut the fuck up for one second?!” Zoë hushes him violently.
     It’s just now that the news on the TV catches Sam’s attention. She’s not just agitated with him because she doesn’t want to talk about the paranormal powers they have in common; there’s actually something on the local news that’s worth their attention.
“In Paragould, the body of a man has been discovered. This morning, Bill Van Dyke was found deceased in his own home, and the Paragould Police Department are considering his death to be suspicious. Local authorities claim that the family were home during the time of death.”
     “Shit,” Zoë spats.      “What is it?” Sam glances aside.      She sighs, still watching the screen as another reporter at the scene gives more information about the incident. “He died the same way Robert Shire did.”      “The girl’s father?” Sam checks, remembering the surname of ‘Shire’ engraved on Laura’s tombstone.      Zoë nods in confirmation as the reporter in the studio takes over again.
“Bill Van Dyke, the principal of Woodrow Wilson Elementary in Paragould, was a pillar of  support to the local community--”
     Zoë doesn’t hear the rest of the report, the sound fading out as her gaze locks on the school building, which is shown on the screen. She recognizes that building.      “It’s her,” she knows.      “That can’t be. You salted and burned her bones,” Sam brings to mind.      “I’m aware of that, Sam. I dug her up myself,” she hisses, as she opens her closet and takes out her suit, her actions hasty and on the edge of aggressive. “Something is keeping her here, an object maybe. Fuck!”      “Guess you’re staying in town a bit longer than expected,” he concludes.      “Guess so, but I don’t have time for this shit.” Zoë mutters and takes off her shirt, putting on a white blouse as if she’s alone in the room.      Sam averts his eyes, awkwardly, but the huntress isn't bothered.      “Nothing you haven't seen, Sam,” she comments, perky.      Nevertheless he turns away from her, uneasily staring out the window. For a second he considers offering their help on this job, but he’s quite sure she will reject anyway. Besides, they have their own case to deal with.
     Rushing, Zoë gets into her dress pants, which she just pulled out of dry cleaner plastic a moment ago.      “How can you be so sure it’s Laura?” Sam wonders.      “Laura was a 4th grader at Woodrow Wilson Elementary” she explains.      He shrugs. “So? What did Van Dyke ever do to her?”      “Her gym teacher knew about the abuse. My guess is that the principal knew too and didn’t do anything,” Zoë presumes, pulling a thin leather belt through the loops.      “How do you even know that her teacher was aware? You couldn’t have seen her already, not in his short amount of time. Admit it; you see things,” Sam’s pushes.
     Zoë huffs, half shaking her head and well aware that Sam will not buy the bullshit. She wasn't planning on telling him, but the younger Winchester brother might be the one person she can trust when it comes to her abilities. He’s special, just like she is, and neither of them have a clue what is going on. He’s in the dark, just like her. Telling him would involve certain risks, though. Afterall, he is a hunter, one who she just met.      “Zo, start talking,” Sam coerces.      “Alright! I see things! There, I said it. Happy now?” she cries out.
     The confession is as much as a surprise to Sam as it is to Zoë; did she just say that out loud? Shocked, Sam stares at her, but he’s not sure if he’s so stunned by the information of the statement itself or because of the fact that Zoë just told him the truth. Disoriented, his eyes wander off as it slowly starts to sink in what this means; he’s not alone.
     “You have visions, just like me?” he recaps.      “Not entirely,” Zoë says as she buttons her jacket. “You dream about the future, I dream about the past.”      “Like flashbacks?” Sam questions.      “Something like that, yeah. But there’s no possible way I could know these things, you know? Most of the time I don’t even know the people who are involved,” she explains, frustration evident in her voice.      “Tell me ‘bout it,” Sam replies with a chuckle.
     A glint of a smile pulls at Zoë’s lips as she looks up. A feeling she hasn’t experienced in quite a while comes to her. Relief, recognition, as if a weight just fell off her shoulders now that she finally told someone about the secret she has been carrying around for so long. She wishes she could just get it all out of her system, tell him about the other issues that she’s involved in, but she can’t. Besides, there’s little time and still a lot to do. 
     Zoë slips into her pumps, takes her FBI identification out of her duffel and puts it in her inside pocket.      “That’s how you pick your cases, isn’t it?” Sam now understands how Zoë can get to a scene with not much visual evidence, at least not visible to outsiders.      “First I didn’t, because I didn’t understand what was happening to me. But then I thought: Hey, I’m having these flashbacks for a reason, I might as well check it out,” she elaborates before she steps into the bathroom and starts applying makeup.      Sam nods at that, agreeing. “Good point.” Maybe he should start seeing the dreams as clues, too. If he had listened to the visions in the first place, Jessica might still be alive right now. 
     He watches how the woman of many faces basically shapeshifts, going from the groggy, hungover girl in PJ’s to an autorical, tough as nails federal agent. Zoë ties her hair back into a tight ponytail, the look really sending the message that she will take absolutely no bullshit. But under that facade, the role she takes on and hides behind, Sam sees something else; she is nervous, restless, anxious even.      “What’s going on, Zo?” Sam confronts her, his tone supportive, however.
     For a moment she stops fixing her hair and places her hands on her hips. The huntress takes a breath as she searches for words, deciding what she can tell him without giving him too much information.      “I’m on a bit of a time schedule,” she admits. “I need to finish this case before tonight.”      Sam narrows his eyes, concerned, trying to read her. “What kind of time schedule?”      “It’s personal,” she cuts off, immediately.
     Her eyes bore into his, warning him not to ask another question. It’s clear as day that she is not going to give him an inch on this. Intimidated by her gaze, he decides not to dig further.      “What happens if you can’t put her spirit to rest in time?”      “I’ll make it,” Zoë responds, sure of herself.      “You don't know that,” he argues.      “I’ll have to leave town, case closed or not,” she adds simply, walking around the bed to pick up her phone from her nightstand.      “What?! You’re just gonna give up a case?” Sam disapproves.      “I’ve seen hunters do it before,” she says with a tone, straightening her back and standing a little taller.      “So? Then they suck!” Sam exclaims.      Zoë snorts, not disagreeing with him there, but the young Winchester isn’t finished yet.      “Laura will keep haunting this town and every one who might have the slightest connection to her death. Do you have any idea how many could end up dead?” Sam tries to make her see.      “I don’t. Have. A choice,” she states, pronouncing her words slowly and loud, as if Sam suffers hearing loss.      “You do,” Sam corrects. “You always have a choice.”      “You should have a poster made with those words, Gandhi,” Zoë responds sassy. 
     She has gathered her keys and her motorcycle helmet now, ready to head out. Sam doesn’t seize his plea, though.      “Let us help you,” he offers.      After halting abruptly, the huntress slowly turns her head and stares at him for a brief moment, then she laughs out loud.
     “No way in hell,” she chuckles, apparently finding the proposition ridiculous.      “Why not?” Sam wants to know.      “Because I don’t team up with others. The moment you depend on someone other than yourself, you’re vulnerable. You start to trust people you shouldn’t trust and when it all goes wrong, people die,”  she states.      “What about covering each other’s backs? Looking out for your partner?” Sam brings up the bright side of cooperation.      “Apparently that isn’t for me, and believe me; I’ve experienced it,” Zoë comments, a speck of pain edging her voice.
     Sam is not sure what the young huntress means by that, but he can read from her eyes that whatever happened, it still hurts her. He keeps quiet for a moment, but then continues with a calm tone.      “Hear me out. We can take over the case completely and you can go wherever you need to go. We’re in the same hunting fields, so why shoot at each other in order to get rid of the competition when we can split up. Dean and I can handle this,” Sam ensures.      “I believe you can, but I’m not the type who lets someone else do the dirty jobs. I got this one, I just need to make good time,” Zoë assures as she heads for the door. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have a crime scene to investigate.”
     She holds the door for Sam, her piercing eyes telling him without words to get out of her suite. The younger Winchester lets a sigh slip from his lips as he looks up at the ceiling for a moment. There’s absolutely no way to get through to that woman, he thinks to himself as he walks outside before she locks the door. The sharp thumps of her heels echo through the lobby, when she hastily parades to the parking lot while taking out her shades. Just before she walks out, Sam stops her by laying her hand on her shoulder.
     “Zoë…”      She spins around, not keen on the physical contact.      “If you need help, call me,” he insists.      “You know I won’t, Sammy,” she reacts, pushing the sunglasses onto her nose.      “Don’t - don’t call me Sammy,” he mumbles under his breath, watching her stride away to her Harley Davidson.      After putting on her helmet, she starts the engine and rides off, not even bothering to say goodbye. 
     Defeated, Sam turns to the Impala, which is parked on one of the taxi spots. A thin layer of dust covers the black car, which seems to boil in the early morning sun. It’s awfully quiet. No ear blasting rock tunes from the radio, no Dean jamming on his air guitar. Sam peeks through the window of the passenger’s side and finds his brother fast asleep. He can’t see Dean’s eyes because of the sunglasses he’s wearing to cut out the light his hungover brain cannot tolerate, but his head rests half against the window, tilted slightly backwards. Sam’s thoughts go back to the day before yesterday, when they parked the car in front of the pharmacy and Dean scared the shit out of him by slamming his fist against the window. Of course, Sam can’t resist doing the same thing and hits the window right on the spot where Dean’s leaning against on the other side.
     “Kelly Clarkson!” Dean cries out spooked, as he bumps his head up against the hardtop of the car.      With a big smirk on his face, Sam walks around the car just as victoriously as his brother did the other day, and settles in the driver's seat. When he sees his brother’s confused expression, he can’t help but laugh.      “Man, that’s so not cool,” Dean mutters with a raspy voice as he rubs his face.
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     “Got what I came for.” Sam holds up his Blackberry.      “Did you have to wake me up for that?” Dean takes off his shades and narrows his eyes against the bright sun.      “No, that was just for fun,” Sam grins.      “Bitch,” Dean grumbles.      “Jerk,” Sam returns with a smile. “I have another update by the way.”      “Oh, yeah? What’s that?” Dean wonders, carelessly, resting his head against the cool glass again.      “We’re staying in town for a couple more days,”  Sam informs.
     He got Dean’s attention with that notification, all right. His older brother looks up at him and although he can barely keep his eyes open, Sam can tell that he’s curious for more info.      “What? Werewolf turned out to be a coyote?” Dean assumes.      “Not really, but there’s still a case here,” Sam begins to explain, while taking the car keys from his pocket.      “So? It’s Sullivan’s case, I ain’t touching that with a ten foot pole,” Dean makes clear.      “Aren’t you happy you can hang out with Denise?” Sam persuades, hoping to change his mind.      “Oh, no. I know what you’re doing.” Dean sits up straight and smirks, on to his little brother’s persuasiveness. “You’re trying to make this seem brochure perfect, but this isn’t about Denise. Spill it.”
��    Sam sighs. Damn, there goes his master plan. Although he gets the impression that Dean can't stand the female hunter, Sam decides to tell the truth.      “I think Zoë needs help,” he admits.      “The last time you thought that I ended up in a bridal suite with a shapeshifter and you got dumped in a septic tank with our damsel in distress,” Dean recalls. “Did she ask for your help?”      “No, not re--”      “- Did she accept your offer?” Dean asks again.      “No, but --”      “- Then we ain’t helping her,” Dean decides.
     “Come on, Dean. We can’t leave her like that,” Sam tries.      “She’s a big girl, Sam. And a damn good hunter too. She’ll be fine,” Dean assures.      “I don’t know, man. Something doesn’t seem right,” Sam ponders. “She told me she’s on some sort of time schedule or something.”      “Yeah, her period. Guessing it’s coming up to that time of the month,” Dean grumbles, sarcastically.      He has lost interest in the conversation and crosses his arms in front of his chest, tugging deeper into the seat.
     “She’s gonna leave town tonight, case closed or not,” Sam clarifies.      Dean opens his eyes and looks aside. “You really think she would leave a job unfinished?” Dean wonders.      Sam shrugs. “Apparently.”      “That deadline must be pretty damn important,” the oldest brother concludes. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt if we stay until tonight, see if she manages to wrap up the case in time. But after that, we’re off to Texas. I was looking forward to that wolf hunt.”
     Satisfied with that compromise, Sam starts the engine. Creedence Clearwater Revival’s Looking Out My Back Door sounds from the radio of the classic car, built around the same time that this song was hitting the charts.      By the time the Chevrolet leaves the parking lot, Dean has looked up Denise’s number and is on the phone with her. Fuck the appropriate time to wait until reaching out. This is a booty call; the regular rules of dating don’t apply.
     “Hey… No, you didn’t forget anything. I just couldn’t wait to call you…. Yeah, I’d love to get together again. I’ll probably have to leave town in a few days, so… tonight? Alright, sounds great.” Dean gives Sam an exaggerated wink.      “At her place,” Sam half mouths, half whispers, making sure Denise doesn’t pick up on his words.      “One sec, sweetheart.” Dean presses his hand on the microphone and looks aside. “Having plans for tonight, Romeo?”      Sam glares at him and Dean returns his attention back to Denise, who started talking to him again.      “Your place, you say? At eight? Cool, I’ll see you tonight then… looking forward to it, too… Alright, bye.” They both hang up and Dean smirks satisfied.      “You are unbelievable, you know that?” Sam comments while shaking his head.      "Oh, I'm unbelievably irresistible,” his brother replies, victoriously.
     Just as Sam decides to turn right, a weird soft roar sounds from inside the car.      “What the hell was that?” Sam looks around.      “My GPS is telling you to make a left,” Dean explains.      The youngest of the two looks aside at his brother who’s pressing his hand on his hungry stomach. Now Sam looks over to the left and spots the yellow zigzag arrow above an In-N-Out restaurant. He laughs, he should have known.      “I see,” he grins and makes the turn. “Drive thru?”
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Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page). 
Read chapter seven here  
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limjaeseven · 3 years
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Je Ne Sais Quoi
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Je ne sais quoi: (n.) a quality that cannot be described or named easily.
Pairing: Jaebeom X Jackson ft. Namjoon (of BTS)
Word Count: 2,410
Genre: Smut, Fluff
Warnings: Porn without plot, blue balls (sorry not sorry :/), anal sex, oral sex, fingering, lots of filthy kissing, sappiness, unnecessary tooth rotting fluff no one asked for, gay sex
Summary: Waking up to an empty bed was something Jaebeom just wasn't used to. He missed his boyfriend, a lot. (Insert really badly written smut here)
[a/n]: This fic was originally based off of a dream that the one and only @triheartedhero had and I just could not pass such a wonderful opportunity. Full disclosure Jackson is a sort of insert for Az in the story since I prefer to write MxM fics. Warning this is just 2.4k of pure word vomit.
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For two people who had been fuck buddies for three years before starting to date, monogamy was something they just weren’t interested in. Jackson just couldn’t say no to a good fuck and Jaebeom missed sleeping with women after getting a boyfriend. Both of them were comfortable with their arrangement knowing full well that at the end they both loved and were loved by each other.
Jaebeom had spent his evening in his studio with Jinyoung, his childhood best friend and partner in crime. Being two guys growing up together in a conservative society, they had fooled around quite a bit as teenagers and became each other’s stress relievers on bad days. Jackson had let him know that he would be spending the day at Namjoon’s house and would be home by dinner time. After six gruelling hours of working on the same song and three rounds of sex on the couch in the studio, Jaebeom finally decided to call it a day.
Jackson was busy cooking dinner when Jaebeom got home after dropping Jinyoung off at his apartment. The elder wrapped his hands around his boyfriend’s waist and buried his face in the crook of his neck, making Jackson smile. They ate dinner together while discussing the music Jaebeom was working on and Jackson’s upcoming show. Jackson had scored an opening spot at a big singer’s concert, which was a huge deal for a small underground rapper. After the hearty dinner, Jaebeom and Jackson cuddled together in bed, talking nonsense till they eventually fell asleep.
The two men had originally met each other in a production course in final year of college and immediately hit it off. Jaebeom had thought that he was pretty straight other than the goofing around with Jinyoung in his late teens. Jackson turned that though on its head for Jaebeom after they hooked up at a frat party barely a week after thy first met.
They had been comfortable in denying they growing feelings for almost three years before Jaebeom grew the balls to ask Jackson out and was rewarded with a harsh slap on his arm and a ‘that only took an eternity, you idiot’. They had made in very clear in the very beginning that they would be okay with sleeping with other people so it never was an issue for either of them.
When Jaebeom woke up the next the morning he was shocked to see the bed empty. He immediately sat up and called out for his boyfriend but received no response. In the years that Jaebeom and Jackson had lived together, only twice had Jaebeom ever woken up alone, both times with long texts on his phone from his boyfriend explaining the reason for his absence but this time there was nothing. After six missed calls and two voice mails Jaebeom received a text saying ‘bit busy rn, will call later’.
Jaebeom stared at the text for a few moments, it was the shortest message Jaebeom had ever received from the man, the latter preferring to send long paragraphs regardless of how much time he had available to reply. Despite wanting to wait stubbornly in bed till his boyfriend returned, Jaebeom had to get up so as to not be late for work.
The drive to Jaebeom’s office was quiet, the man still sulking at the lack of his boyfriend’s love early in the morning. The traffic decided to mess with Jaebeom’s already sour mood and doubled his commute time on the day of an important board meeting. After hours of presentations and meaningless discussions, Jaebeom was finally free for lunch. He rushed to his office to finish up some work before heading out for lunch.
Jaebeom was busy unlocking his PC on his desk when he noticed his favourite photo missing from his desk. The ravenette wasn’t a man who enjoyed keeping personal mementos on his work desk but that one picture was his favourite. It was a photo Jaebeom had taken himself six months after they started dating.
After a night of intense fucking and mind-blowing orgasms, the two men were exhausted beyond belief. Jaebeom had dragged himself out of bed to find a towel to clean Jackson up. When he retuned from the bathroom with a damp cloth though, he was greeted with the beautiful sight of his boyfriend curled up in his bed, blankets wrapped around his lower body. Jaebeom’s cat, Nora had made her way onto the bed and had settled on Jackson’s chest. The view was so pretty that before Jaebeom knew it, he was grabbing his camera off the shelf and clicking a photo.
Jaebeom called his assistant in to ask them about the whereabouts of the photo. They told him that Minhyuk, the cleaner had come in the night before and knocked the frame over by mistake, cracking the glass. Jaebeom’s assistant had sent it to get fixed as soon as they found out. Frustrated beyond belief, Jaebeom dismissed them before slamming his head against his desk.
It felt to Jaebeom as if Jackson had been pulled out of his life for a day. The only interaction they had had all day was that one rushed text Jaebeom received. He knew it was a bit childish to miss Jackson after barely 14 hours of not seeing the man but the two of them had been connected at the hip since they met and it was just too unusual to be ghosted by the man for so long.
The day went by torturously and Jaebeom barely made it to the end. By the time he was done with work, he was throwing himself into his car as his driver drove him back to his place. Jaebeom half expected to not see Jackson at home based on the way his day had gone but the loud moan that cut through the silent apartment let Jaebeom know that he thought wrong.
Jaebeom stood outside their shared bedroom and peaked in through the half open door to see Jackson grinding against Namjoon on the bed as they made out. He carefully opened the door all the way and leaned against the doorway, eyes glued to the scene in front of him. After a few moments f standing there and watching his boyfriend and his fuck buddy kissing, Jaebeom cleared his throat, making both of them turn to him.
“Hyung!” Jackson sounded part surprised and part confused. Jaebeom was never one to interrupt Jackson when he was with someone else and neither was he one who joined in for a threesome.
“Joon, I’m sorry for this but do you mind giving Jackson and I some alone time?” Namjoon groaned as he got out of bed and pulled on his t shirt which he had discarded on the bedroom floor. Jaebeom, regretting giving Namjoon a bad case of blue balls grabbed his arm as he moved to leave the room.
“Tomorrow at 7, all three of us, I’ll fuck you just how you like it” Jaebeom placed a chaste kiss on Namjoons smiley face and patted his ass as he left to go back home.
“Is everything alright, hyung?” Jackson asked, making Jaebeom turn back to find him standing in front of him. Instead of answering the man Jaebeom just pressed his lips against Jackson and kissed him, hard. The younger immediately reciprocated the kiss, fisting at the elder’s shirt.
Jaebeom walked forward, not pulling away from Jackson’s lips and pushed him onto the bed. He pulled away for just a moment to take his shirt off before climbing on to the bed, straddling Jackson. Leaning down again, he captured his boyfriend’s lips again, making Jackson moan into the kiss.
“Are you okay, hyung?” Jackson pulling away from Jaebeom made the elder while but looking at his boyfriend’s concerned face, he gave in”
“Just missed you a lot” He pouted.
“Aww hyung, come here, let me make you feel better” Jackson urged Jaebeom on his back before straddling him, mirroring their previous position. Lightly palming Jaebeom’s erection through his slacks, Jackson slid down his legs to sit at the elders calves and bent down to press soft kisses on the mans’s stomach.
Impatient hands grabbed at the belt around Jaebeom’s waist and did quick work to discard it, along with the man’s slacks and boxers. Jaebeom hissed as the cool hair hit his erection, Jackson taking the opportunity to wrap his fingers around the elder’s cock and suckle at the tip.
The feeling of Jaebeom’s short yet strong fingers tangling themselves into Jackson’s hair spent shivers down the brunette’s spine. Pushing firmly against Jackson’s head, Jaebeom got him to take more of his cock into his mouth. The pressure made Jackson moan out, sending vibrations through Jaebeom’s cock making him throw his head back in pleasure.
Having had enough of Jackson’s teasing, Jaebeom tightened hid grip in the younger’s hair and thrusted up into his mouth, making him moan uncontrollably around the elder. On the edge of his orgasm, Jaebeom pulled Jackson, earning a whimper from the brunette and pulled him up for a filthy kiss.
“Fuck me. Now” Jackson whispered.
“Needy, huh?” Jaebeom flipped them around, Jackson’s back hitting the mattress and quickly pulled the younger’s clothes off before kneeling between his spread legs. He leaned down to mouth at Jackson’s balls, causing the younger to moan out in surprise. Trailing down to his rim, Jaebeom teased the tight pucker with his tongue, pushing in lightly before pulling away completely.
“Please, hyung” Jackson’s whines spurred Jaebeom on to fuck the younger with his tongue, making his legs shake. When the brunette’s thighs tried to close, Jaebeom wrapped his hands tightly around them, holding them apart and continued to eat Jackson out.
“I’m gonna c-cum” Much to Jackson’s dismay, who was anticipating his climax, Jaebeom wrapped a hand tightly around the base of his cock and pulled away from his hole, effectively denying him his orgasm. Tears of frustration welled up in the younger’s eyes, which Jaebeom kissed away as they flowed down his cheeks.
Just when Jackson was about to beg Jaebeom to do something, two fingers pressed against his lips which he took into his mouth without hesitation. Working his tongue around the digits, Jackson wet them thoroughly before the elder pulled them away and pressed them against his rim.
The burn of two fingers entering him at once made the younger hiss, but it was quickly replaced by light moans as the ravenet added another finger and worked him open. Pressure built deep inside of Jackson, ready to snap when Jaebeom pulled his fingers out and quickly replaced it with his cock.
If Jackson thought three fingers were a tight fit, the feeling of Jaebeom’s cock penetrating him made him feel like he was about to come apart at the seams. Even though Jaebeom worked his way in slowly and carefully, the girth still hurt, but both of them knew Jackson liked it better like that.
Once all the way inside, Jaebeom held himself up over Jackson on his elbows and kissed him passionately, waiting for Jackson to adjust and the pain to subside. Growing increasingly impatient after two denied orgasms, Jackson ground his hips down onto Jaebeom’s cock which the elder took as a green signal and pulled back till only the tip of his cock was left inside Jackson before pushing back in harshly.
Setting a brutal pace from the get go. It was almost as if the tenderness was gone and replaced with nothing but pure lust but Jackson knew that Jaebeom was always making sure that he wasn’t hurting his boyfriend, even when his mind was completely clouded with need.
Moans and sounds of skin on skin filled the room, both lost in the heat of the moment. An act that usually involved a lot of dirty talk and teasing now boiled down to nothing but the intimacy. Sleeping with other people was fun, but there was a chemistry, a connection, a je ne sais quoi that they had and shared that was irreplaceable. In that moment, Jackson knew why he loved Jaebeom the way he did.
At the end of a long day of work or just hanging around, no place felt more comforting to Jackson than Jaebeom’s arms. The feeling of the elder hugging him, hands wrapped tightly around him, was the feeling of home, one that he never wanted to let go of.
Jackson didn’t know he had stared tearing up again till he felt Jaebeom stop suddenly. Looking down at the younger, Jaebeom noticed the warm smile on his lovers face as stray tears ran down his face. Perplexed at the juxtaposition of the tears with the content expression, Jaebeom brought up a hand to Jackson’s cheek, caressing his soft skin while wiping the tears away.
“Are you okay?” It was funny to Jaebeom how, in such a short period of time, the tables had turned, making it his turn to ask his boyfriend if he was doing fine. Jackson merely smiled wider and placed a chaste kiss on the elder’s lips.
“I love you” Jaebeom felt chills run down his spine at the sincerity in Jackson’s voice, as if he was speaking gospel. Instead of replying, Jaebeom buried his face in the younger’s neck as he felt himself choke up. Jaebeom had always been bad with his emotions, struggling to express his feeling all throughout his life. Jackson, on the other hand, was a simple man, who wore his heart on his sleeve, and even though Jaebeom hated to admit it, he was jealous of his boyfriend.
“Hyung, make love to me, please” It was Jaebeom’s turn to tear up as he pushed into Jackson once more and thrusted shallowly, grinding against the younger. Jaebeom sensed the signs that Jackson was close to climaxing, from the heavy breathing to the airy moans and wrapped a free hand around his cock, stroking in rhythm with his thrusts. Jackson came without much ceremony and just watching his boyfriend orgasm was enough to push Jaebeom off the edge, cumming inside the younger.
It took a while for them to finally feel hot and sticky enough to get out of bed and grab a quick shower together. Later, as they laid in bed together, cuddling, Jaebeom urged Jackson to turn towards him and hugged him to his chest, placing a soft kiss to his forehead.
“I love you too”
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Strange Magic (Part 4)
Summary: You’re a powerful, off the grid witch who is relatively new to Manhattan, New York. You’re good at keeping yourself hidden, but your influx of magic attracts none other than the protector of the mystic himself, Dr. Strange. What happens when he finds you and invites you to his sanctum, and you finally meet? (Based off of that scene in Thor: Ragnarok)
Pairing: Stephen Strange x Witch!Reader
Word Count: 4k
Warnings: Mentions of blood and injuries, sexual tension, fluff, Strange being an awkward nerd because he forgot how to feelings, plus another trope I love
A/N: Okay I said I was excited about this but I’m also scared BECAUSE I’m excited, you know? Let me know your thoughts. This part is honestly a breather before THE FIGHT.
Strange Magic Masterlist
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When you stepped through the portal, you had expected to be transported to one of the familiar parts of the sanctum, like the foyer, or the room with all the books, but to your dismay, you were immediately taken to a new room you had never seen before. 
It was an average sized bedroom, with wooden floors, and windows framed in an intricate design where afternoon light filtered through. There was one bed in white placed against a wall, a quaint wooden desk in a corner, and an armoire in another. Across from the bed was a door that led to another room. However, the true beauty of it all, were the walls covered in blue tile patterned with white stars, making it look like the night sky leading up to the beamed ceiling.
You took it all in in silent intrigue as Strange led you to the bed and sat you down carefully. It was then that you noticed the minor details, the ones that looked familiar, like the square vintage gold framed mirror, the artwork from your room, the spell books that were salvaged from your shelves (including your grimoire) on the desk, a box of old memories, and even some crystals.
“Is that all my stuff?” you asked in awe. 
“Yeah, the few things I managed to save that weren’t burnt or broken. I figured you would’ve wanted some of them before completely abandoning ship.”
You looked up at him, in shock. There were so many emotions going through you, and among them was immense gratitude. You still weren’t used to having someone do things for you, and the fact that he had done so much already, without you even asking, made you wonder what you did to deserve it.
“You really didn’t have to do that,” you said softly. “Any of this. Thank you.”
“It’s the least I could do considering what you’ve been through. I said I wanted to help, Y/N, I wasn’t lying.”
“But why? Why are you helping me?”
“I’m the Master of the Mystic Arts, I protect this part of the world, it’s my job. You’re a witch that needs my help.”
It seemed like such a serious answer. You felt like he was spewing something out just to answer the question.
“And that’s all?” you pressed.
“What other reason could there be?”
You shrugged innocently, “Nothing, I was just curious.”
“Of course. There’s also some spare clothes in the closet,” he walked over to it and took out a folded up pair of red pajamas and then handed them to you, “I’m sure these will be more comfortable than the scrubs.”
You took them with a smile. “Thanks.”
“Do you need anything?”
Before it slipped your mind, you mentioned that you needed stuff for a healing spell.
“I need yarrow and calendula for a salve. It’ll help with the healing process. I don’t know if you guys carry that here, but it would help.”
He nodded in acknowledgment, “We don’t really do magic with herbs here, but I’ll see where I can get some.”
“Thank you,” you reiterated.
“For the meantime, you should get some rest. There’s also a bathroom through that door in case you need it, although I’d be careful since you can barely walk on your own.” He pointed to the door across from the bed and you nodded. Then after a brief pause, he furrowed his brows and pointed to the pajamas in your hands. “Do you...do you need help with…?”
You frowned at the way he trailed off, and closed his eyes in a manner that looked like he was internally berating himself. 
Without making eye contact he rambled on, while making his way to the door. “You know what? I’ll just leave you to it. Give me a call if you need anything. Okay? I’ll go see about your herbs.”
With that, he opened the door and disappeared behind it without another word. Meanwhile you stared at the now closed door, alone in the room, completely flabbergasted at his sudden change in demeanor. You slowly started to connect the dots and you couldn’t help but giggle.
Did he almost ask if he could help me change? And then got flustered over it?
These scholarly men, they’re not all that put together. I knew it.
***
You managed to get into your pajamas easier than you thought. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience, but you got through it. It wasn’t like you hadn’t fought battles before or felt anything similar. You could manage.
Although you didn’t think you were that tired, upon seeing the very real, very comfortable bed, after being hours in a hospital, you wanted nothing more than to lay in it. And the second you got comfortable under the covers, your eyes got heavy and you fell asleep, counting the stars on the walls.
You awoke a few hours later, and based on the orange light coming from outside, you could tell it was dusk. And although Strange had recommended that you rest for as long as possible, you suddenly had the urge to shower. You felt dirty and grimy, and no doubt still had traces of dried blood. The thought of feeling the rush of hot water, and washing away last night’s remains, seemed like the best idea in the world.
If you made sure not to put too much weight on your injured side, you’d be fine, right?
So, you got up from the bed and limped to the bathroom. Your side ached but you made it slowly and with deep breaths. Once you were inside, you once again took in the rustic design.  Everything was carved and built out of wood, except for the sink and the shower which were made out of stone (the toilet was just a regular toilet, of course). 
Standing in front of the mirror, you saw yourself for the first time since everything happened and you gasped.
“Jesus Christ.”
You didn’t look horrendous, but it was clear you had been through something. It made you wonder how Strange could even look at you and be flustered all. 
Your hair was more unkempt than usual, and despite the sleep you got, you looked mentally tired. Your skin was a tad paler, no doubt from the blood loss. There were small scratches and dried blood in different places from the crows and overall fight, on your cheek, your forehead, your arms and collarbone. You were sure if you looked, you’d find bruises on your body too.
You were often so good at your own recovery after getting into fights, that it was a bit of a shock to see yourself so raw. Although you shouldn’t have been surprised considering you almost lost your life.
You carefully stripped yourself of the red pajamas. Every movement made you wince (no wonder Christine had helped you and Strange thought to offer), but you managed to get down to your bandages. Those you were extra careful with unwinding and peeling off, until finally you were down to your stitches. 
You stepped back from the mirror and angled yourself until you could see them in the reflection. You bared your teeth in a wince at the sight. It reminded you of Frankenstein’s monster or Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas. Albeit, it wasn’t a whole limb, but it was big enough to leave a significant scar.
Finally you opened the glass door to the shower and turned it on (after a bit of figuring out). You stepped in when it was to your liking. Once you were under the water, you breathed a sigh of relief and let the stream invigorate you. Instantly, you felt fresher, cleaner, and more awake. Like all the bad was going down the drain.
You leaned your left hand against the stone to take some weight off of your right side, and noticed a small screen embedded into the wall.
With a furrowed brow, you tapped on it and the screen lit up to reveal a plethora of music. You smiled brightly with glee. Strange must have liked music a lot to have that installed into the bathrooms of the sanctum. 
You scrolled through it all to take a gander at its contents. You were fascinated to see that there was a wide range of music in genres and decades, from classical to R&B, and 1930s to now.
So the Doctor had range. Impressive.
You started off with some 90s pop music and let it shuffle from there. Music played from the speakers and it was like you were back home, without a care. You washed your hair and your body as you sang the lyrics of a pop song and every song that came next, careful not to touch the stitches, and you swayed as much as your injured body let you. 
Of course, by the time you were done, your body reminded you that you were still healing and you couldn’t be doing this for very long. You had to resist the urge to run the wound under cold water to soothe it. Instead, once you were out of the shower, you had to sit down on the toilet for a few minutes with your towel wrapped around you to recuperate.
It was then that a knock came at the bathroom door, followed by Strange’s voice on the other side. “Hey, Ariana Grande, I’ve got those herbs you asked for.”
Your eyes widened, “You could hear that?”
“It’s not everyday we get a live concert in this place,” he replied. “If you’re decent, I should probably put new bandages on you before you bleed all over the place.”
You looked to make sure you weren’t bleeding through the towel. Luckily it was still white. Not for long, you were sure.
You dressed yourself as quickly as you possibly could and opened the door to let him inside. He was holding a big first aid kit in one hand and your herbs in a jar in another. However, what caught your eye was the fact that he was also wearing jeans and a t-shirt, something that wasn’t normal for Stephen Strange considering all he ever wore was that cape and blue attire. 
He didn’t look bad in it, in fact, he looked really good. It was a refreshing sight.
“Look at you in normal human clothing,” you teased.
“You know I was a surgeon before all of this, right? I’m not an alien from outer space.”
“Yeah, but I bet you wore scrubs all the time back then too.”
He scoffed dramatically, “Not all the time - Sit -  You should’ve seen my closet.”
You sat down on the toilet facing away from him so that he could have easy access to your wound. He put the first aid kit on the sink and laid out everything he needed in a very clean and professional manner. 
“Were you into fashion?” you asked.
“I may have had a few suits. More than a few.”
You tried imagining him in a suit and desperately wished that you could see him in one in real life.
He took some antiseptic and you lifted your shirt up so he could clean it. It was then that he proceeded to fuss over you and get oddly protective.
“You know if you wanted to shower, you could’ve told me so I could help you.”
“Shower? Or get in?” you smirked to yourself.
“Get in, obviously.”
“I thought I could save you the trouble and do it myself. And I did.”
“You know you could’ve torn your stitches right?”
“I was careful, I promise. And I didn’t, did I?”
“Lucky for you, no. Even with your little dance party.”
You could help but be amused at his tone. “Are you this snippy with all your patients?”
“Only the ones who don’t take care of themselves.”
He conjured up a mortar and pestle for you, and you started grinding up the herbs into a paste like you had done many times before. He watched you carefully the whole time. When you were done you handed the mortar to him so he could get to work. 
He rubbed the mixture over your stitches, and you flinched at the sudden cold. 
“Ooh.”
“Keep still.”
You frowned at him, but willed yourself to relax and started murmuring the word, “percuro” to initiate the spell. Soon enough you got used to it. The coolness of the paste and the warmth of his touch made the stinging of the cut feel better. Not to mention, you could feel the effects of the spell start to work its magic.
He lost his snappy attitude and relaxed a little at this point.
“You have a nice singing voice by the way,” he complimented you out of the blue, and you were surprised.
It was a compliment you hadn’t heard in years. It made you nostalgic.
“Thanks. My mom and grandma used to say the same thing. Although I always thought they were obligated to be nice and say things like that, so I never knew if I should believe them or not.”
“Well, as an objective third party, I’m here to tell you they were right.”
You smiled, feeling warmth on your cheeks. “Thank you, really.”
You need to stop being so nice to me or I’m gonna fall in love with you.
“By the way,” you said, “I like your taste in music. You’ve got a pretty impressive playlist.”
He chuckled as he put the mortar down and grabbed some bandages and gauze.
“Why thank you. I pride myself in a lot of things, and one of them is not just my taste, but my knowledge in music. I used to play this game with the other doctors during surgeries where they’d play a song and I’d guess the name, the artist, and the year it came out,” he explained.
He grabbed a roll of gauze and started wrapping it around you to keep everything together. He stood a little straighter to do it, and now his face was hovering by your ear. You normally weren’t one to get flustered, but you could feel your heart start to race involuntarily.
“Oh, really?” you kept going, cooly.
“I know what you’re gonna say, “ he went on, “‘What a know it all’.”
You sputtered and defensively started saying, “No, of course not. I love a man who’s knowledgeable.”
“I thought you said all scholarly men are rigid.”
“I also recall saying that that didn’t mean I didn’t like scholarly men.”
He secured the gauze just as you peered up at him. You meant to fix him with another teasing smirk, but you found yourself breathless when you locked eyes with him once again. His blue eyes were so mesmerizing, you never realized until now that they were their own kind of magic. If you leaned an inch forward, his nose would graze yours, even further and your lips could touch. And you both stayed there, frozen, the tension building as you both debated on whether or not to do anything at this proximity.
You truly hadn’t expected to be in a place like this at all when you first met Stephen Strange. You hadn’t expected to feel so much, to go from being so angry to basically trusting him with your life like you had never trusted anyone before. And you certainly didn’t expect to be in a bathroom with him tending to you, being this close when it wasn’t just another ploy. 
“Y/N…” he uttered warningly.
“Stephen…”
“This isn’t another pheromone spell, is it?”
“I’m out of tricks at the moment.”
Maybe there was more to your flirtatious comments than you thought. Maybe you were willing to find out.
At that moment, you both leaned in, throwing caution and all sense to the wind. You closed your eyes, and your lips were so close to touching, when suddenly there came a loud knock all the way from the bedroom door.
“Stephen? Y/N? I brought a visitor. Also, food’s here.” It was Wong, the other sorcerer who lived in the sanctum.
You and Strange stopped where you were with a screeching halt. Strange squeezed his eyes shut and cursed under his breath. Meanwhile you deflated, left in a daze of wondering if what almost happened just happened or not. For once, you were the one left without anything to say.
“Yeah we’re in here!” Strange called to his friend.
Strange offered his hand and helped you from your seat. He retracted his hand quickly and opened the bathroom door all the way.
“I was just changing her bandages,” he said, before Wong could suspect anything else, even though he wasn’t lying.
A small black cat meandered over to the two of you. The sight of him lit up your face.
“Bagheera!” You would’ve bent down to pet him, but you were sure Strange would be worried about you and your stitches.
Just up ahead, Wong was standing by the door.
“I was going to bring him in earlier, but I figured you needed to rest. I’m Wong, by the way. I don’t think we’ve officially met.”
“No, we haven’t. Nice to meet you Wong, I’m Y/N.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Alive. Although my body is still recovering. Thank you for taking care of my cat. I hope it wasn’t a bother.”
“No, actually he’s a very good pet. Although he does like to wander.”
“Well, Bagheera’s a very intuitive cat. I think he can sense all the magical stuff you got in here. Plus he’s never been in such a huge space.”
Strange jumped to ask, “You said there was food?”
“Yes. Korean takeout just got here.”
Strange turned to you and gave you a small smile. “Well I hope you’re hungry.”
At that moment your stomach grumbled and your hand flew to it. You realized that you hadn’t eaten a full meal since everything happened.
“Starving, actually.”
***
To make things easier on you, Strange opened up a portal to the kitchen right then and there. It was like any regular kitchen with wooden cabinets, a breakfast bar, and granite countertops. Of course it was more rustic just like everything else in the sanctum. If you were honest you weren’t sure if you expected the sanctum to have a kitchen or any living areas, but they had to do something other than practice magic and saving the world, right?
The three of you sat at the countertop, eating soup, rice, and spicy noodles as Wong told you about how he met Strange and came to work alongside him. 
You noticed that Strange decided to sit on the other side of the island, instead of next to you. No doubt your moment back in the bathroom left him a little frazzled, and he wanted to regain that professionalism of his. But nothing could hide the glances he’d sneak over when Wong wasn’t looking, or the tension you could still feel between the both of you.
If his friend wasn’t in the room, you would’ve asked him about it. But instead, you allowed yourself to get wrapped up in the conversation, which eventually shifted to Belladonna. You told Wong about her, and then recanted everything that happened between the two of you back at the apartment. The dagger was the most important detail you focused on.
“So it’s a dagger that’s designed to kill magical beings and give the killer their power?” Strange asked.
“Yes, she’s used it before and she wants to use it on me.”
He crossed his arms and looked into the distance, deep in thought. After a moment he held up a finger and said, “Hold on just a second,” before disappearing into thin air.
You shot Wong a confused look. “Where the hell did he go?”
Before he could answer Strange reappeared once again, except this time he was behind you, and the sound of his voice made you jump.
“You see I knew I saw it somewhere.”
“Strange, what are you-?
He came up next to you and placed down an old book, written in a language you didn’t understand, but it was turned to a page with a drawing of a dagger you had seen before. It was Belladonna’s dagger. You ran your hands over the page in wonder.
“It’s called the Dagger of Moonlight or Dracula’s Blade.”
 Perplexed, “Why?”
“It says here that it’s bound to the user by blood, and it drains people of their magic as it kills them. Sounds like a vampire to me.”
You nodded slowly, “Okay, and is there anything in here about destroying it?”
“Yeah, there are two ways. You shatter it with an intense amount of magic or you can deactivate it by killing the user with it.”
You thought about the prospect of killing Belladonna with her own dagger and it fueled you with a dark excitement. “Both options don’t seem that bad to me.”
“Maybe not, but if we don’t want this thing to get into the wrong hands again, we need to destroy it completely. And that requires a lot of magic.”
“I have a lot of magic,” you argued.
He hummed, “Yes, you do, but it won’t exactly be a walk in the park if you’re also trying to defend yourself from her especially if you’re still healing. Luckily, you won’t be alone this time.” 
“I won’t?” You asked it sarcastically and not obliviously.
“If we want to take her down, we need to hold her off long enough to get that dagger out of her hands and to you.”
You looked between the two of them. “I’m guessing this is where you two come in?”
They both nodded, Wong was particularly stoic.
“We’re no Masters of the Mystic Arts for nothing,” he murmured.
Strange grinned and pointedly looked at you. “You’ll get your chance, Y/N. You’ll get your shot to take her down, I promise.”
Maybe it was the look in his eyes or the fact that he hadn’t lied to you up until now, but you believed him, wholeheartedly. 
You had to admit to yourself that it felt good for someone to have your back. They were giving you your moment to take her down, but you didn’t have to do it alone at the risk of getting killed yourself.
You nodded, “Okay. Let’s take down this bitch.”
***
The day seemed to come and go with everything that happened. Just that morning you were in the hospital and now the sky outside gave way to night once again.
You spent a good amount of time conversing with Strange and Wong about the potential plan for dealing with Belladonna, and before you knew it, sleep called to you again. You had wanted a tour of the full place, but Strange insisted that you had already put too much strain on your wound. Even though you argued that you could feel that with the healing salve and spell were working, and it was easier to walk. 
Still, you let Strange accompany you to your room through another portal as he kept his arm around your shoulders. However, you were disappointed when he let go once you were at the door. 
As you opened the door, you debated on whether or not to ask him about what happened earlier in the bathroom, but then you wondered if it was a good idea. You had flirted with him before and it was all fun and games, but maybe you had crossed some sort of line this time. Maybe you were in over your head. Maybe the bastard regretted it and was choosing not to talk about it. Maybe this was nothing. Maybe-
Strange put his hand on your arm, “Y/N?”
“Yeah?” you moved to face him.
One look at you and his words were dead on his lips.
“I...I, uh…”
“Strange...are you oka-”
Your question was lost in the surprise of his hands finding the sides of your face, and his lips crashing into yours.
You were shocked at first, but your eyes fluttered shut and you started moving your lips against his. His facial hair tickled your face, but you didn’t mind, you didn’t have time to mind as you were too lost in the heat of the passionate kiss.
Just as you had your fist in the material of his shirt, and wanted to pull him into the bedroom, he disconnected. The two of you breathed heavily, and your lips were tingling in the aftermath. His own lips were red. 
Strange took back his hands from your face, took a deep breath and said, “Goodnight, Y/N.”
With that, he walked back down the hallway to god knows where, leaving you doe-eyed, slack jawed, and drunk on what just happened. On what really, truly, happened.
Not so rigid after all.
***
Permanent tag list: @iamthemaskhewears , @peches-et-lait , @cassiopeia-barrow , @realgreglestrade , @infinity-star-wars , @haru-ririchiyo , @maria-beretta , @kaliforniacoastalteens , @delusionsofnostalgia , @qvicksilversass , @skittles-anime-123 , @sheridans-dynamos
Fic Tag List: @shinebrightlikeafanbase , @not-reptilian , @justatadbonkers  , @rushiruby , @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese​ , @poeticandors​
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aion-rsa · 3 years
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Streaming on Plex: Best Movies and TV Shows You Can Watch for FREE in September
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There’s an overwhelming amount of new movies and TV shows hitting streaming services this fall. If you’re starving for new content, it’s set to be a fantastic time, but if your wallet is starving for funds, it can be pretty stressful. With studios and content providers spreading their libraries out across so many different streaming services, keeping up with all of your favorites can get expensive. Thankfully, Plex TV is here to keep you entertained without breaking the bank.
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Plex releases brand new and beloved titles to its platform monthly and we’ll be here to help you identify the cream of the crop. View Plex TV now for the best free entertainment streaming and check back each month for Den of Geek Critics’ picks!
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DEN OF GEEK CRITICS’ PICKS
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
They’re the world’s most fearsome fightin’ team. They’re heroes in a half-shell and they’re green. I mean, what more do we need to say? 2014’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is no Citizen Kane, but comic book movie fans flock to it like the four titular turtles to pizza. The film knows exactly what it is, providing cheesy one-liners, silly action, and unpretentious fun. Throwing in Will Arnett as a sidekick for April O’Neil was an inspired choice that paid dividends in laughs and whoever tapped Tony Shaloub to voice Splinter should get a pay raise. Produced by Nickelodeon Pictures, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles wasn’t only the highest grossing film in the series, but also the highest grossing Nickelodeon film of all-time. This reboot of the classic ninja team helped spawn further films, new TV series, and a renewed interest in one of the most beloved comic book properties ever. Cowabunga, dude!
Noah
This isn’t your Sunday School’s Noah. Darren Aronofsky’s adaptation of the story of the biblical figure Noah is an awe-inspiring epic that takes the bones of the famous story and infuses themes about environmentalism, self-doubt, and yes, faith. Pulling liberally from texts like the Book of Enoch, the film has far more action than just leading animals onto a boat and a storm. Shot by Matthew Libatique, the movie looks absolutely gorgeous and at times can be genuinely breath-taking, but it’s not just about the visuals. Russell Crowe stuns in the title role, but the entire ensemble is great, including a post-Potter Emma Watson and a ferocious Ray Winstone. No one expected Noah to be more akin to a thought-provoking art house film than a straight-forward epic, but that’s the sort of genius you get from Aronofsky, one of the most exciting and inventive filmmakers working today. 
Shine a Light
Even if we hadn’t just lost the immortal, suave Charlie Watts, the heartbeat of rock and roll’s longest institution, The Rolling Stones, we’d still be recommending Martin Scorsese’s Shine a Light. Capturing the legendary band during their A Bigger Bang Tour in 2006, Scorsese spends a lot of the time rightfully focusing on Watts. With the camera fixated on Watts, you witness his unflappability; the way that he can make such raucous playing look so effortless. You also catch the man’s unique, jazz-influenced technique, like how he rarely hits the center of his snare, or how he changes his grip whenever he hits a cymbal. Even in their old age, the Stones are still one of the tightest, most electrifying live acts, and Shine a Light puts you right on stage with them as they barrel through one of the deepest catalogs in recorded music. It’s simply a masterful concert film.
The Virgin Suicides
Sofia Coppola likely has to deal with accusations about nepotism to this day, but anyone who saw her directorial debut The Virgin Suicides knows that Francis’ daughter would have made it as a filmmaker even without her famous last name. This haunting adaptation of Jeffrey Eugenides’ novel of the same name taps into the melancholy of childhood, the dreamlike haze of memory, and the mystery that lurks inside suburban homes. Coppola expertly captures the pull that an ethereal group of sisters have on the imaginative group of boys that pine for them in a way that is relatable for anyone that had an unrequited crush in high school. As a coming-of-age movie, it is one of a kind. As an exploration of trauma and grief, it is crushingly effective. The original score by the band Air only adds to its hypnagogic vibe. 
Rock ‘n’ Roll High School
Punk rock music and Roger Corman pictures are some of the core tenants that Den of Geek was founded on, so of course we’re going to recommend 1979’s Rock ‘n’ Roll High School, which features possibly the coolest band of all-time, The Ramones. Let our resident punk rock movie expert Jim Knipfel break it down for you:
“After producing so many dozens of teen rebellion films over the years, Corman finally hit the pinnacle, the ultimate teen rebellion picture, with the cartoon antics ratcheted up more than a few notches. There are so many bad jokes flying around, so many visual gags and film references packed into every scene, so many overwrought teen film clichés pushed way past absurd, it’s a film that demands multiple viewings. Even if “Riff Randall, rock ’n’ roller” (P.J. Soles) doesn’t look much like any punk chick I ever knew, I’m perfectly willing to accept it. And in historical terms, it really was this film more than the 4 albums they had out at the time that spread the word about The Ramones to mainstream America, and that’s worth something. Old as I am I still get a thrill every time the students and the Ramones blow up Vince Lombardi High, and anyone who doesn’t must be wrong in the head somehow.”
New on Plex in September:  
1000 Times Good Night 
13 
13 Assassins 
The Accidental Husband 
All Good Things 
Assassination of a High School President 
Awake 
Bent 
Bordertown 
Brain Dead 
Cold Mountain  
The Descent 
The Descent Part 2  
Even Money 
Fear City 
First Snow 
Freedom Writers  
Gray Matters  
The Jesus Rolls 
Johnny Was  
Keys to Tulsa  
The Legend of Bagger Vance  
Mad Money 
Marrowbone 
Murder on the Orient Express 
The Ninth Gate 
Nothing but the Truth  
Ordinary People 
Rememory  
Rock ‘n’ Roll High School  
Sanctuary  
Shine a Light  
Soul Survivors  
Taboo  
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles  
The TV Set  
The Virgin Suicides  
What Doesn’t Kill You  
Winter Passing  
World Trade Center  
Catch before it leaves in September: 
31 
Absolution  
Accident Man  
Aeon Flux 
After.Life 
Angel of Death 
Answer Man 
The Bang Bang Club 
Battle Royale 
Blood and Bone 
The Broken 
Cashmere Mafia  
Child 44 
Cleaner 
Cold Comes the Night 
Coming Soon 
The Connection 
Conspiracy  
The Cookout  
Critical Condition  
Dark Crimes  
The Death and Life of Bobby Z 
Death Proof 
Dickie Roberts: Former Child Star 
Downhill Racer 
Dragged Across Concrete  
The Dresser  
The Duel 
Dummy 
Flight of Fury 
Flirting with Disaster  
The Foreigner  
Goat  
Gutshot Straight  
Halloween III: Season of the Witch  
The Hard Corps  
Hesher  
High Right 
Honeymoon  
The Hunt 
I Saw the Devil 
In the Mix 
Jason and the Argonauts 
Jeff, Who Lives at Home 
Jiri Dreams of Sushi  
Joe 
Journey to the West  
Kill ‘Em All 
A Kind of Murder 
The Kite Runner 
Lake Placid 2 
Lake Placid 3 
Last Resort 
The Lazarus Project 
Misconduct 
Mr. Church 
Mutant Chronicles 
Mythica: The Godslayer 
Mythica: The Iron Clown  
Never Back Down: No Surrender 
News Radio  
Noah 
Ong Bak: The Thai Warrior  
Ong Bak: The Beginning  
The Order 
Out for a Kill 
The Outcasts  
Phantoms 
Pistol Whipped 
The Protector 
Pulse (2001) 
Reprisal  
Return to the Blue Lagoon 
The River Murders  
The Romantics 
Second in Command 
Shadow Man 
Shattered  
The Shepherd 
Southside with You 
Space Station 76 
Square Pegs 
Standoff 
Starship Troopers 2: Hero of the Federation  
Starship Troopers 3: Marauder 
Steel Dawn 
Substitute  
The Super  
SWAT: Under Siege 
The Terminal  
The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada  
Touchy Feely  
Trollhunter 
UFO 
Universal Solider: Day of Reckoning  
Vamps  
Vicky Cristina Barcelona  
Walking Tall: Lone Justice 
Warlock 
What Planet are You From?  
World’s Fastest Indian 
World’s Greatest Dad  
The Yellow Handkerchief  
Still streaming on Plex: 
2:22 
2 Days in New York 
21 Jump Street  
22 Bullets  
24 Hours to Live  
3rd Rock from the Sun 
6 Bullets  
99 Homes 
A Little Bit of Heaven 
A Walk in the Woods 
The Air I Breathe  
Alan Partridge 
ALF  
Alone in the Dark 
Amelie 
American Pastoral  
And Soon the Darkness 
Andromeda  
Are You Here 
Arthur and the Invisibles  
Awake 
Battle in Seattle 
Bernie 
Better Watch Out 
Black Death  
Blade of the Immortal 
Blitz 
The Brass Teapot 
Bronson 
The Brothers Bloom 
The Burning Plain 
But I’m a Cheerleader 
Cake  
Candy  
Catch .44 
Cell  
The Choice 
Clerks II 
Coherence  
The Collector  
Colonia  
Congo  
Cooties 
The Core 
The Cotton Club 
Crossing Lines  
Croupier  
Cube  
Cube 2 
Cube Zero 
Cyrano de Bergerac  
Death and the Maiden 
The Deep Blue Sea 
Deep Red 
Derailed 
Detachment 
The Devil’s Rejects  
Diary of the Dead 
District B13 
DOA: Dead or Alive 
Dr. T and the Women  
Eden Lake 
The Edge of Love  
The post Streaming on Plex: Best Movies and TV Shows You Can Watch for FREE in September appeared first on Den of Geek.
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closer-stars · 4 years
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Feel It - Seonghwa
Member: Seonghwa Genre: Fluff for the most part, a little bit of angst, a little bit of Drama, just a lot AU: Dance Team Word count: 6k Requested: Nope Content: both of you hate each other but might as well work together because you want to compete with the team. some food. some intense words (are they intense? idk). Note: idk what made me write this but here it is. took me forever to finish this but here it is. not yet edited/proofread cause i’m tired asf, will do so when i wake up. 
You joined the dance team when you were a freshman in high school. To be honest, you’ve been dancing for a few years prior and the idea of being in a team didn’t seem like a bad idea. You saw it as an opportunity to learn more about the art that will eventually become your life. The auditions were nerve wracking to say the least, a lot of people around your age were in the room. Some of the auditionees seemed to know each other, immediately hugging or greeting each other with a lot of energy. You didn’t know some of them, maybe by face or name from the dance workshops you’ve been to but not the way they knew each other. You noticed the number of people in the room. It wasn’t a shocker that the team you auditioned for was a well known one, seeing how some of the auditionees looked so starstruck and driven to be accepted. You on the other hand didn’t expect too much, just wanting to be able to do better and be better.  
The audition process went by quickly and you’re on the floor with a towel over your head. You were expecting the sweat production to be heavy but did you expect that you were going to make your shirt several shades darker? Not quite. The panel informed every one that those were accepted will be notified a week from now instead of the usual three days. The explanation being the immense number of attendees along with the level of skill. 
Fast forward to now, you’ve been part of the team for nearly six years. You could consider the team your family if it weren’t for Park Seonghwa. See, you and Seonghwa entered the team through the audition. Both of you were still so young and so ambitious to be the best that you started on the wrong foot. Now, whenever the team trains, they sometimes have to make sure that both of you were on opposite sides of the room or at least far away that neither of you would fight and cause a scene. It’s come to the point that the team jokes that one isn’t truly part of the team until they’ve witnessed the both of you squabble over the smallest things. 
“That’s mine, you asshole!”
“Your name’s not even on it.” Seonghwa reasons as if it were obvious. By now the team knows just how much you loved your hot Cheetos. They also knew how Seonghwa liked hot Cheetos too.
“That’s because it doesn’t take a dumbass to know. It’s fine to admit that there’s nothing in between your ears you know?” You snap back, snatching the bag of chips from him. While you didn’t mind sharing what you had with the team, when it came to him, you’d become territorial. Your arguments with him had reached the HR of the team at one point but the both of you were so stubborn they just gave up.
While you two fought endlessly, both of you were mature enough to put that to the side when it came to training. Both of you standing on opposite ends of the room. The team had eventually learned how to work around it. One of the methods being to make sure neither of you were in the same dance segment unless the entire team had to be on the floor. If both of you had to be in the same segment, they made sure neither of you interacted in it. It was for the best for everyone. 
To be honest, you didn’t know much about Seonghwa. Whether or not you wanted to know more before, the arguments have made you want to keep him at an arm’s length, or several arms away if possible. All you knew about him was his name and that he studies in the same university as you. Anything else was out the window for you. Though if anyone told you anything about him, it went in one ear, then out the other. 
Every year though, the team enters various competitions in order to improve and to get the name out there. But in order to have the resources to train and perform, the team holds various fundraising events that can vary from concerts, to gigs, to classes. This time, the team was holding various dance classes made by a number of members that were favorites of the general public and dance enthusiasts. 
“You want us to make a what?!”
“A dance piece to teach.” Your coach stated. There was no room to argue in his tone. While your coach was warm and friendly for the most part, when he used that tone, everyone knew that arguing was impossible. 
“Why do we have to teach together? I can teach a class on my own just fine.” Seonghwa asks. So could you but you doubted saying the same thing was a wise decision. The male had less of a filter than you for the most part. 
“Both of you are fan favorites. I’m sure you’re both aware of how many fan pages both of you have.” He starts off with a tired sigh. It was a little late already. Everyone was changing into cleaner clothes and packing up, ready to head home. 
“And even if we separate the both of you, your styles do compliment each other. Whether or not you want to admit it, the seniors and your coaches have seen and observed your improvements as individuals.” Your coach adds, his eyes scanning the both of you. You couldn’t deny the fact that you’ve created a bit of a following online. You didn’t really take notice of the numbers but you’ve noticed how often you come across a fan page or a fan online and offline. You weren’t sure with Seonghwa but if what your coach said was right-- which it usually was, then you can just imagine how much of a following he has created as well. 
You were more than flattered and relieved to hear that you were improving, that the people you’ve looked up to since you were a child were seeing it, you could be on cloud nine right now. Could be since your nightmare of working with your rival is happening as you speak. 
“Coach, are you sure about--” You could barely finish your question when he gives both of you a look. He was always a little terrifying when angry. You didn’t want to push your limits so you closed your mouth. 
“Yes, I’m sure of this. If neither of you can fix your differences in time for your dance class, consider yourselves out of the competing pool for the upcoming competition.” He ends the conversation there, slamming the envelope down on the floor. The room had gotten silent from the outburst, the members that were left behind quickly leave the room. No one wanted to see the hell your coach could raise when provoked. 
“You have a month before the fundraising classes. Create a forty second piece. The genre’s up to you. ” He finishes the statement before walking out, leaving the both of you unsure of what to do, much less approach the situation. 
Your gaze falls onto the open door, before heading to your bag. “We’re talking about this tomorrow, before and after training.” Seonghwa states with a tired sigh. You could barely look at the male and you just hum in response. You hoist your bag up on your shoulder, closing the lights as soon as the male left the studio. 
“See you then.”
“Bye.”
The next few days were stressful. Alongside the daily trainings with the team, you had to spend additional time with this ingrate. Though both of you had similar styles, you couldn’t seem to agree on a song to work on. Oftentimes, you needed a third party to make sure neither of you went for the other’s throat. The only people that could deal with your constant bickerings and bring you back to reality were a few other members roughly around your age that knew when to shut the both of you up. 
“Seonghwa, you’re not listening. Not everyone’s going to be able to do that texture.”
“That’s the point of taking dance classes. To learn.”
“Seonghwa, you just sound like you want to show off.”
“It sounds more like a you problem.” 
“I swear to fucking--”
“Guys.” Hongjoong states and it gets the both of you to shut up. A quiet groan and you put your head back where it should be. 
The both of you eventually formed the habit of overstaying in the studio, it went to the point where the guards have to tell you to leave. 
Most of the brainstorming and choreographing sessions would have you trying to be realistic with the male while he stubbornly nitpicks at your suggestions. It was one of the reasons why both of you never seemed to get along. You knew your limits and you pushed yourself past those limits at a steady pace, the other knew his limits and yet bursted those limits in ways that didn’t seem possible. While your styles were complimentary, your approach to the art were completely different. It was already a miracle in itself that both of you eventually agreed on one song. 
“You’re lacking a hit in that beat.”
“Lower.”
“That’s all you can do?” Hearing these types of words over and over in different ways was getting to you. You already had a few counts in mind to continue from where he will leave off but he wanted you to get his parts right first. 
“Seonghwa, this piece isn’t even for the team. It’s for those who are taking our classes, aka those who aren’t part of the team?” You mumble as you push yourself to hit the right beats at the right angles. At the corner of your eye, you can see his ever popular stare. You already knew what he was going to say and you had to tune it out. It took a lot out of you not to snap at him there. “Tone down on the popping, you aren’t Mingi in case you’re going through an identity crisis.”  You sigh. “Also, too strong pops don’t match the mood of the song.” 
“We’ve trained with this team for how long and that’s all you can do?” He sighs, before showing you once more what his segment was for what was the nth time. If it weren’t for how exhausted you were, you wouldn’t have such a short temper with him. He was starting to get too into the technicalities of the piece, forgetting the emotions conveyed by the song. The two of you go over his part until both of you can barely do any of the steps without your limbs practically flailing about. 
“Call it a night, Seonghwa. We still have training tomorrow and it’s apparently going to be core day.” You groan as you finally let yourself crash to the floor to massage your sore legs. You looked up at the devil incarnate only to see that he was still on his feet, going through the choreography weakly. 
You shake your head and lean against the wall, opting to let your body rest to prepare for tomorrow’s gruesome schedule and just watch him do his thing. A part of you wanted to suggest another song, that didn’t have both of you moving so close to each other. Another part of you knew that you guys were already too into this piece, to start anew would be a waste of time and energy at this point. It was only when he stumbles over his own two feet that he agrees with you, though begrudgingly. 
“Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He groans as he goes through his things, without warning, he changes his shirt in your presence. You managed to look away before you could see anything, waiting until he was finished by the door. You figured from there that was conceited enough to do such in a room that was surrounded with mirrors. Even if you hated his guts, it was already second nature in you to wait for everyone to leave the studio before closing everything for the day. He shuts off the lights and speakers, a mindless thank you slipping from his tired lips. 
You don’t notice the thank you. 
The dreaded day comes and the entire team groans out from the pain as they try to cheer each other on to the end of the drills. You don’t know how the others exactly felt but you can already feel your muscles burning from the intensity. Your coach and the other senior members would monitor everyone, usually pushing other members who were struggling to push themselves further. It was a blessing they knew what works best for each member to improve. The training session ends with everyone on the floor, too spent to move another inch off the floor. Your chest was rapidly heaving from the amount of energy and strength you had to exert in order to keep up. If your mind didn’t remind you of your choreography with Seonghwa after the training you probably might have fallen asleep in the studio. Not that it was the first time either. 
Your coach lets everyone catch their breath first, before he asked the members who were part of the fundraiser for an update. 
Shit. 
You push yourself up into a sitting position, despite the burn in your muscles. It wasn’t easy trying to get Seonghwa’s attention from across the room. A hard glare his way eventually worked and he staggers towards you. Everyone was softly buzzing with chatters of what to eat after training, what they were looking forward to with these workshops and so on. 
“Got a plan?” You ask, referring to the fact the both of you only had his choreography down. You haven’t been able to teach yours because of his next to impossible perfectionism. You didn’t want to disappoint your coach. You wanted to take part in the competition too. He bites his lower lip and shakes his head. “Good, cause I do.” 
Your coach doesn’t ask for any explanation. He just asks the both of you to do what you guys have so far. If you did the math, you only had a week to teach Seonghwa your part and another week to clean the entire thing from start to finish. You were scared but you had to push through. So the both of you dance the first half of the piece. To the untrained eye, both of you looked good dancing together: bodies moving in sync, facials were there, and both of you were in the pocket for the most part. To the trained eyes though (or at least, the team’s), they can see and feel the slight hint of awkwardness (and if they squint, the disdain) the both of you had for being so close to each other. It was a surprise nonetheless to have both of you be in such close proximity to each other and look like a team (or at least, trying to look). You try not to notice the worry in some of the members, try not to notice the hawk eyes your coach has on both of you. The both of you break away from each other, once the choreography ends. Much to most of the team’s dismay. 
“Is that it?” Your coach asks, still not impressed. “It felt too short, and that was all Seonghwa’s style wasn’t it?” He presses. If either of you fucks up the next move, both of you were done for. 
You glance over at Seonghwa for a moment before you answer. “It’s not yet done, Coach. I’m teaching him my part today.” He gestures for you to continue to your part. Seonghwa  watches you, taking a few steps back. You only had five seconds leeway to let him know to stay in place. You had no time to explain what your choreography was. 
You drop down to his waist, and keep eye contact with him, then bounce back up as you continue to dance. It was needed in pieces after all to maintain eye contact with your partner especially in pieces such as this. It was also what made you gain a loyal following: eye contact with the crowd or any camera that you could spot. Your part amped up the heat for the room. You couldn’t feel Seonghwa’s body dancing near you, but you could feel the amount of eyes on you as you delivered what you’ve been practicing at home. When it came to the parts where you thought of interacting with him in the choreography, you would dance around his figure, or have your fingertips trail lightly across the expanse of his torso. Your part ends with your arms resting on his shoulders, thus finishing the entire piece. 
The male was still dazed on his feet, a little too shocked for words at how you went closer to his figure more than possible. He could still feel how your fingers felt against his waist, how you looked on your knees while sporting that flirty smirk that you wear during performances. If he was only more confident in his freestyling, he probably would have danced around you as well. 
“Better.” The both of you notice the hint of a grin on your coach’s face. The looks of surprise and flustered cheeks on some of your members, bless the younger members who had to see that. “Seonghwa, take note of how they move. The groove’s there and very much fitting to the song and mood. You don’t have to change much about your part anymore but keep it relaxed and loose. Relax especially when it comes to their part of the choreography but keep the energy constant okay?” He tells him. He then shifts his attention to you and you could’ve sworn you can feel your heart drop in expectation and fear. “Now, your part. I can see your style in it with hints of Seonghwa’s. Keep that. Don’t rush while dancing, there’s a set time and pace in it anyways. Explore also your space. I know you’re a little shorter than Seonghwa here but maximize what you got okay?” He then proceeds to praise both of you for the choreography so far, hoping that both of you would warm up to each other before the day of the workshop cause otherwise it would get too obvious. 
“Your piece is something for couples, if you really want to sell this, at least pretend.” 
With that, the training for the day ends. The rest of the members were leaving the room, one by one, some of them wishing the both of you luck. Eventually, the two of you were the only ones left and the tension was palpable. You were about to teach your part when his voice breaks through the silence.
“I told you to keep your energy constant. My part was already o--”
“Park Seonghwa, shut the fuck up before I lose it.” You snap at him, your eyes trained on his reflection on the mirror. You were exhausted from the drills, you were high on adrenaline from dancing in front of your coach and the team, you were elated with the praise and constructive criticism, but you were also tired of his perfectionist and degrading ways. 
“Why do I have to match your energy and style? Coach already said that the part we did had all of you and almost none of me until we reached my part. Mind you, I tried my best to incorporate your style into it regardless. Do I still have to prove my worth in this team to you, Seonghwa? Cause I’ve done a lot of proving of it when we both entered the team. Had to prove myself to Coach, the senior members and alumni and even to my parents. Yeah okay my parents were initially supportive but we ended up butting heads, did you know that? Or were you too caught up with your own ego to stand out? Fuck’s sake, Seonghwa, we started on this team on the same level. Why do I have to prove myself to you too?” You snap, your phone now causing a loud boom against the floor. 
Seonghwa looks at you with raised eyebrows. He was always more controlled when it came to showing emotions in the team, ironic since he was the most expressive on stage. He didn’t understand your struggle until your outburst. He was dumbfounded and guilty to put it simply. He watches you pour out all your hardships and anger at him, something he eventually thinks that he deserves. He didn’t think his heart could break at the sight of you crying but it does. He couldn’t get himself to worry over the phone that you threw to the floor. He wasn’t sure if he should even approach them while they cry their heart out. Truthfully speaking, after that outburst, he didn’t really think that approaching them to comfort them would be a good idea. So he does the next best. “Here.” He mumbles, handing them their towel and water. The male lets her cry out everything she’s been holding on to. How else could he even comfort them when he was the cause of a good portion of their hardships? He waits until their breathing evens out, watching them regain their composure before he speaks up again. “If you can still teach me your part, I’ll cooperate.” his voice was a lot more careful and toned down as compared to the years you’ve worked with him. 
You stare at the male through puffy eyes and with a huff, you grab your eye drops to ease the pain of crying earlier. “Let’s go.” You mumble as you set your phone up. “We have an hour until they kick us out again. Double time tomorrow.” You add before, you go through the first few counts. The both of you manage to maximize the remaining hour with the general movement of the choreography all while incorporating both your styles. By the end of it, both of you were sweating bullets. Bodies were pushed to your limits and in need of sustenance. 
“You got anything tomorrow?” Seonghwa asks through heavy panting as he wipes away the sweat that still runs down his temple. 
“Besides, training, I’m free why?” You ask, downing what was left in your water bottle. You were too tired to even realize that he was once again, shirtless, in front of you. 
“I was going to ask if you want to grab something to eat before heading home. Also because I owe you an apology, but we can’t stay too long in this place.” He notes, as the lights were slowly being shut off by the guards. 
You glance behind you as you sigh, still too sore to move. “You got a point there. I can barely move too much on an empty stomach anyways so fine.” You mumble as you push yourself up with a groan. He was already up on his feet, casting a sympathetic smile your way as you gather the remaining strength in you to walk to the nearest store that was still open. 
Eventually, both of you end up in a tonkatsu restaurant. Both of you were too tired and hungry to talk until the side dishes were served. You eat in silence, focusing first on your rumbling stomachs before any sort of discussion began.
“I’m sorry.” It was him who spoke up first. His utensils by the side after he finished his share. He meets your gaze with guilt in his eyes. “I was wrong for having treated you like that.” He continues. “I don’t have any alibi for what I did. I understand also if you don’t accept my apology.” Before he could continue, your respective meals were served. 
“Let’s eat first, Seonghwa. We’re both too hungry and thirsty to deal with anything else properly.” You chide gently, as you gesture for him to eat up first. The both of you then eat in silence, there wasn’t any rush tonight. Neither of you could feel your legs after the entire training, and if you guys finished earlier than expected, there was a convenience store nearby where the both of you could kill time and make amends in. 
True enough, both of you end up in the convenience store. It was your turn to start talking. “I don’t know why you did what you did to me, Seonghwa. It’s going to take time for me to forgive you.” You state as you watch people come and go past the convenience store. He does the same, occasionally looking at the yogurt drink in front of him. “I accept your apology still but like what I said, forgiving you will take a while.” You continue. “I respected you, y’know? The first few meetings even if we started on the wrong footing. I thought you were a really cool person and an amazing dancer already. But then, your comments just got too much…” You trail off, he knew where it was going. That’s what led both of you to be where you were now. Even if he admitted that he did what he did because he wanted to see you improve, and because of your potential, it wouldn’t excuse the effect his words had on you. He listens to you closely, sharing what you were comfortable sharing with him. He should’ve known that you worked better under praise. 
“After all this, I hope that we work better... until at least our workshop.” You say, your eyes heavy on his figure. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for how guilty he looked, yet you couldn’t get yourself to immediately forgive him. 
“Yeah, of course. I promise, I won’t talk shit. I’ll cooperate.” 
“I’ll believe it when I see it Seonghwa.” 
The remaining weeks went by without a hitch. The rest of the team eventually realizes the lack of bickerings from both of you. Both of you still stay on opposite ends of the room, but the malice isn’t present anymore. 
“You think they banged?” Mingi mumbles to Yunho. Only to be met with a whack from Hongjoong. “Mingi, not everyone hate fucks…” The older mumbles with a tired sigh, stealing a handful of pringles from the younger. They glance over at the both of you: though you were on opposite ends of the room, it was obvious that both of you were going through the piece in your heads. 
When they look at Seonghwa, they could see how relaxed his movements have become compared to before. He wasn’t as serious as before, and it was clear with his facial expressions. The same thing could go for you, you were cleaner with your executions, even when the both of you weren’t going all out with your movements, the boys could see the huge difference. Your coach definitely was on to something to have both of you become a unit. 
The boys decided to stay and give you guys some company, and mostly to make sure none of you were at each other’s throats. They also wanted to see the final piece before anyone else did, especially when you told Mingi and Yunho that the piece was going to be finished by today. Cue, Wooyoung, San and Yeosang bouncing towards the two of you wanting to see it as well. Soon enough the entire crew was there, and Seonghwa had to apologize for his group of friends being too energetic. You didn’t mind it. You told him that it was a good opportunity to gain some opinions and suggestions to other parts if need be. 
The finishing pose had both of you on the floor. You were used to Seonghwa’s rather suggestive antics by now and so was he to you. Though, unlike him, you always had a different pose every run so to have you act so bashful yet suggestive in front of your friends was an appreciated mood breaker. If you hadn’t done so, both your friends would’ve said something stupid. Regardless, they said nothing but praises much to your relief and his. 
“We’re taking your class, by the way!” Wooyoung pipes up afterwards as you catch your breath. Both you and Seonghwa look at the rest of them. 
“Fine but one condition.”
You stare at Seonghwa, unsure of what would come out of his lips. 
“You’re going to be each other’s dance partner for this piece.” You glance at everyone’s faces. You knew how extra dancers can be especially if in their comfort zone. The extra goes to the hundreds when it comes to these boys. You were a little terrified but also, their presence in your workshop would help you calm down. 
“Hyung, we’re seven though…”
“Six. Jongho already took the role of being in charge of documentation.” He corrects with a grin. You were just looking at the two sides exchanging friendly taunts and challenges. The chaos that ensues as the boys try to pick who they’d do the choreography with was enough to make your stomach hurt. 
You had to lie on the floor from all the laughing. You had to wave your hands in defeat for them to tone down the chaos. Your arms struggle to push yourself up, ready to call it a day after the long hours of dancing. The staff then enters the room telling you that you only had five minutes left as there was another group that would be using the studio. The rest of you manage to pack up quickly, cleaning up after yourselves. Odd enough, you couldn’t find your bag and you were sure you never moved it from where you dropped it earlier.
“Looking for this?” Seonghwa calls from over your shoulder, your bag clinging onto his shoulder. 
“Yeah, thanks.” A relieved sigh slipping from your lips as you reach out for it. He takes a step back though, a mischievous smirk gracing his lips. Has he been moisturizing them? A confused frown appears on your features at his actions. “Give it to me.” You whine, following after him. 
“No. You’re tired. Let me carry it while we get dinner.” 
“Why are you such a creature of habit?”
“Someone has to be between the two of us.”
As you bicker, the remaining seven were waiting for you outside the studio, hearing the two of you bicker. 
“Mingi, you’re buying me a protein shake if they end up together.” San challenged.
“Buy me a new computer if they don’t.”
“Deal.”
The day of your workshop has arrived, and it was the last workshop for the entire fundraising event. Nerves were starting to get jittery and you were a little grateful you opted to buy coffee on the go rather than drink one prior to the workshop. You saw the students lined up outside the studio, all of which you greeted as you searched for your partner. “Where’s Seonghwa?” You whispered to your fellow member who was by the door. She gestures that he’s already inside, making sure the speakers were properly set up. She pushes the door open for you and you’re greeted by his back facing you. Before any thought about it could rise up, he notices your presence, a smile lighting up his face. 
“Right on time. We got a workshop to do, partner.” He muses lightly, plugging his phone as he starts to play some music. You set your belongings to the side, throwing a small smile at him. He spots that it doesn’t reach your eyes and he pokes the corners of your lips upwards. “Come on, we’ll do fine. We’ve prepared an entire month for this.” He reassures you. He did have a point and so you flash another smile, a confident one this time.
“Let’s go.”
The past two hours go by without a hitch. The students were having fun, occasionally distracted by Yunho’s contagious laughter. Even you and Seonghwa would laugh at how the class’s energy was overall a good one. The students ask for the both of you to perform the choreography after having done a run themselves. Both of you exchange glances, unspoken questions that eventually were answered with Seonghwa standing up and giving the students what they wanted. An amused snort was your response and you follow his footsteps. Jongho already had his camera out, ready to record the entire run. 
“Last run ever. Make it count.”
Even if your hair was already a mess and both of you were glistening with sweat, neither of you held back for this run. It was probably one of your best runs if you had to be honest. Both bodies were moving in sync, even your energies were responding to each other. You held him closer to your body than usual, not minding how close his face was to yours. His touches seemed to have a more suggestive undertone as compared to before. Each interaction you had resulted in squeals from the students, clearly affected by how both of you were dancing. 
He wasn’t sure either if he caught you smirking up at him while you were on your knees. 
The piece ends with both of you close to each other’s bodies, breaking apart from each other once the song goes back to the start. That was the only time a smile breaks your features. The both of you bow to the students, thanking them for their time and energy to be with the both of you. Some students approach the both to take photos with them to commemorate the event which neither of you could say no to. After all the celebration between the students and the team, the two of you were left in the studio, packing up your things. 
“You did well there.” Seonghwa says now that both of you were alone. Your workshop was the last one for the day and everyone else was already out eating dinner to celebrate the success of the fundraiser. You look at him through the mirror as you wipe your sweat. Even if your towel had half your face obscured, the way your eyes lit up and curved into crescents had his heart skipping. 
“You didn’t do so bad yourself, either.” You return with ease, hanging the towel over your shoulder as you pick up your bag. Before you could continue, both of your phones buzz with a message. All of a sudden, the two of you burst into jumps and elated yelling. 
“Training next week?”
“2PM in the same studio?”
“Yup!”
“Nice!” 
Overwhelmed with happiness, they ended up crashing into a hug. This was probably the ninth hug you’ve shared with him this entire day-- not that you counted it or anything. You pull away from him, looking up at his elated face, and him to yours. 
“Congratulations. Looks like we’re going to have to suffer for a little longer.” He teases you lightly, hoisting his bag up over his shoulder. 
You snort at such statement. “I mean, from the looks of it, I don’t think it’s suffering anymore.” You return, following his footsteps closely as you look over at the now dim studio. 
“That’s a good point to raise. More dinners with you, if anything.” He adds as both of you walk to the convenience store where both of you first ate together. 
“Seonghwa, just admit that you just want to steal more of my coffee jelly.” 
Fast forward to the competition day, all of you gave your everything on that floor where everyone from not only in the venue but also through their computer screens can watch you. You stepped down that stage gasping for air, and if the situation let you, you could’ve just fallen asleep on the floor. The other members hold onto you as everyone made their way backs to their seats: your legs still too exhausted to take another step on their own. Seonghwa right by your side, with a bottle of water for you. His eyes wrought with concern over your near crumpled figure. You definitely had pushed yourself too far the past few days. Regardless of what happens, you were able to give your heart out on that floor with a team that mattered so much to you. 
The rest managed to give their best on stage despite the jet lag of traveling from Korea to LA. Some of the members were in their seats, fast asleep to catch up on the lost sleep from the past few days of intensive training. Seonghwa and you were one of those who were slouched over on your seats. You had your head leaning against his shoulder, while his head rested against yours. Both of you didn’t realize that your fingers were loosely interlocked with one another’s. 
Your coach tells the members to wake those who were asleep in time for them to announce the results. Neither of you seemed to mind that you were holding each other’s hands when you woke up. The minutes felt like eternity as they slowly announced who took the bronze and the silver. Seonghwa holding onto your hand as tightly as he could as everyone was silently praying that your team would take home the gold. 
True enough, the hosts announce your team as the winner for this year’s competition, resulting in everyone jumping and hollering in joy. You drop to your knees, elated to know that your months of sweat, lack of sleep and stress had paid off. Seonghwa was jumping around wildly, pulling you up and into his arms. “We did it! We won!” He exclaims. Without another thought, his lips graze against your temple and that was enough to wake you up. 
He notices you stiffen up in his arms. “I-I’m sorry! I got too caught up in my happiness…” He tries to reason, pulling away as he rubs his neck. 
“..C-can you do that again?” You ask shyly. He looks at you with wide eyes, unable to believe what he had just heard. 
Before either of you could answer, everyone was already pushing each other to go on stage to celebrate with the other winners. 
Needless to say, your friends had taken a few photos of that interaction and have sent the both of you the photos of you sleeping against each other, along with that kiss.
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gotboredwrote · 5 years
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Chapter 8: The Morning After
[[The American Publicist // JRD]]
Pairing: John Richard Deacon x Reader Word Count: 5.8K Style: Multi-Chapter Warnings: Swearing, a few references to the previous chapter’s sexual themes (nothing explicit), references to OCD diagnosis Summary: Y/N was just hired to become a co-manager and publicist for the band Queen. The boys had never travelled abroad, so meeting an American was . . . intriguing, to say the least. Permanent Author’s Note: To clarify, I write because I get bored. Nothing is meant to be professional in any way, nor is meant to offend, cause anxiety, cause anger, cause sadness, or promote disagreement among readers in any sort of (semi)permanent way. A/N: Me: This chapter is bad. Like, I am acknowledging it now and admitting I was so distracted the whole time I wrote it. I’m sorry :\ Also me: Lol it’s long :P
Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter // Masterpost
~
Both of you were still trying to catch your breath. You at least have the necklace John gave you to ground you back down to Earth from your high. John did not have anything like that, so all he could do was grip the headboard of his bed. You were both reeling, thinking about what you just did. Both of you were having aftershocks that were so intense you could not believe it. While it was some kind of mix of lust and love that drove you both to your breaking points, neither of you felt that you were ready to admit those feelings to each other. You both felt pathetic and desperate. But oh-so in love. Hopelessly. It took over five minutes for each of you to catch your breath and calm your minds down, but the calms did not last long. Your eyes went wide and John slapped a hand over his mouth, the realization of what day of the week it was hitting you both like a ton of bricks. Tuesday. That only meant one thing – tomorrow was Wednesday. You two would have to face each other because of work.
~
John made it a point to go to the studio extremely early so he could already be there before anyone else, hopefully ignoring the butterflies swarming his stomach. No one needed to be there before 9:00am. He made it there at 6:30am. He told himself he would just practice the stuff they had already done, but there was a part of him that wanted to work on that song. He figured if there was a time to do it, it would be when no one was there. Except he was afraid of what would happen to him. Clearly, it was not the song that triggered the episode of last night, but the words came from those feelings. His way of admitting the truth. Not denying the feelings that bubbled over the previous night. He starting adding backing instruments and vocals, trying to think of the rhythm the words came in versus the words themselves. Maybe that would be a distraction. Except there was a problem – he got to a section of the song he literally could not remember. He sighed to himself, and proceeded to rummage through his bag to see if he could not find the sheet music. He knew he brought it with him, he remembered the feeling in the pit of his stomach when he picked them up this morning to stick in his bag, so that meant the only place the papers could be was his car. He looked to the clock, 7:30am. He had only been here an hour? It felt like so much longer than that, stuck in his daydream-like state of thinking about the song. He was not worried about running into anyone except maybe some overnight cleaners. They were extremely used to seeing some of the artists that float through the building because they know inspiration can strike at any time. He made his way to the door and reached for the doorknob when it turned on its own. He retracted his hand and went to step off to the side to let whoever it was in the building, and the feeling in the pit of his stomach from that morning returned full-force. He came face-to-face with you and your growing mound of paperwork. Well, shit.
“Oh, good-good morning, Deaky. I really didn’t expect any of you to be here already. Am I interrupting?”
“Not at all, love. I was just going to get something from my car. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Sounds good, I’ll just be in the booth working when you come back.”
You shot each other innocent smiles, and made your way to your destinations. As soon as the door shut between you both, yours and his breathing became ragged. Apparently, you both had the same idea about getting to the studio early so as to calm the nerves down before the other arrived. Clearly, that was not going to happen. John got to his car, and when he found the sheet music he had written out, the intensity of his heart rate got stronger. He loved that he felt this way about someone, because he never thought he was someone who could feel that way, or have someone feel that way about him, even though it was in his dreams that you would return the feelings. It was one of the few insecurities he had, and you knew about it. You and him had talked about love before, neither one thinking strangely of it at all. You had had deep conversations on many previous occasions, but they were usually in the same room as a bunch of other people, and clearly you had not had one since you had gotten off to the thought of one another. He was afraid that he would lose the opportunity to have those conversations again, especially if you found out what he did. He loved those conversations. He took a couple deep breaths as he made his way back to the studio, where he assumed he would see you sitting at the coffee table pulled up right to the couch, all your papers methodically placed out to work on them throughout the day. He knew you, how you worked, how you focused.  Ninety percent of what he thought would be the case was, but there was one thing missing from the scene in the studio. You. He walked in and looked through the giant pane of glass and saw you lightly swaying back and forth in front of his bass. Lightly plucking at the strings creating a quiet but deep sound that barely made it to even your ears. You had a look on your face of longing, and while John had still not shaken the feeling in his lower stomach, he was more concerned with figuring out what was going on inside your head. He also wanted to let you keep plucking away, the gesture making John feeling warm and fuzzy seeing you take that much interest in his instrument. But again, the concern he felt overtook all the other stuff. He quietly folded the sheet music to put in his pocket, that way you would not see the words, and stuffed them in his back pocket. He lightly turned the knob to the booth where you were, so as to avoid startling you, which ended up happening, anyway.
“Oh gosh John!” You paused to let out a deep breath. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to invade your safe space. We just haven’t had a lot of time to ourselves in the studio in a while, and I was just thinking about all the times you would play for me when the boys weren’t here. I just… miss that.”
Y/N had mentioned something that brought a wave of nostalgia through John, and he understood the face you were making. You were right – another thing that would happen throughout these past couple of weeks when it was a normal day with no meetings or dinner would involve John quietly practicing and giving you a private concert. Ever since he sat you down to play “Misfire” for you, he slowly got more and more confident about playing in front of you. It was always something you two would look forward to. Some days the boys would offer to grab some lunch for the lot of you, and you would say to them that you would stay back and just keep working on your portfolio. John always offered to stay back and keep you company, and he would quietly practice his parts or create new riffs in the background while you worked on your paperwork. John was afraid that if you found out about what he did last night to the thought of you, all that would go away, too, just like your deep conversations.
“You looked peaceful, and happy. Why would I have stopped you?”
“I know how you feel about people messing with your bass, even Brian. I… didn’t think I was any exception.”
“You really think that lowly of yourself?”
“It’s… not that, John. It’s just that you have treated me best of all the boys throughout this partnership so far. The boys are lovely, don’t get me wrong, you are just different somehow. You gave me my favorite little possession for forcing me to come to that awful dinner, and you took a lot of shit that night that you didn’t have to take. You were also nice enough to show me a song you had written before you even showed the boys. You’ve just been so nice to me and I didn’t even think about how what I just did might have crossed a boundary that ruined all of that.”
John wanted to cut her off with a kiss, but he could not bring himself to do it. It would flood him with emotions that he was starting to ignore, so he did not want to trigger them again. He also felt that this would have been a good time to confess his feelings, but that would also bring back the feelings from last night. There was so much he wanted to do to, but he was so petrified that you were going to find out what happened last night, that he could only muster out a few sentences.
“I appreciate that you know I have my boundaries, love, but I thought by now you knew that you do not have to worry about them. You are one of my few exceptions, and I want you to know that I honestly thought you…looked… cute doing that.”
You were flabbergasted at his response because you had been doing a really good job so far at hiding the fact you were feeling just like John was. You were just as petrified that something you did would make him realize what you did the night before. Up until he saw you plucking at his bass, you had no concerns at all. Now he was calling you cute for messing with the real version of what you wore around your neck and you felt like you were going to explode.
“R-really? Well, thanks, Deaky… um, it was kind of my subtle way of telling you I am really missing you-hearing you play, hearing you play by yourself again.”
“Oh… well we have about an hour before the boys are gonna show up.” He was having a little bit of trouble speaking because he caught your slip up, and it honestly gave his heart a small glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there actually was a chance something could happen before this manager thing is over. “Would you like me to play for you while you work? Like old times?”
“I would love that, John.”
You two exchanged sweet and small smiles, and you made your way over to your paperwork while John looked at his bass for a moment before picking it up. You did not catch it, but John gazed at and lightly slid his fingers over the frets and portions of the strings that he saw you playing. He chuckled out a small breath, and picked up his bass to start playing for you. Little did you know that the repeating tune he started with was the bassline to the song he wrote for you the night before.
~
The hour went by with hardly a word spoken between the two of you, but you two would not have had it any other way. John was able to get more done on the song he wrote for you without you having a single clue, as well as tweaked and practiced stuff for the new album. You, on the other hand, were able to get so much of your paperwork done, and was even able to officially complete Brian’s personal publicity portfolio. You were making binders for each of the boys, while making a copy for your master binder, that included everything they would need for their upcoming PR run before the tour. It had everything in it from outfits they could choose between, recommendations on what parts of the personalities to emphasize during interviews, which ones to hide, and which topics to not discuss for fear of controversies. There were also notes of encouragement, tips and comments you had heard over time from people about things the boys do that they like, and a number of other things. You were going to wait to give the boys their binders until you were completely done with all four so you could see the joy on their faces when they saw everything for the first time. You had so much planned for each of them, you could not wait to see how things went. John would once in a while throughout the hour poked his head in to make sure you were enjoying the music he was playing and made sure you did not need anything. You would always just smile up at him and tell him how good he sounds and let him know you were good. One time you did ask him to go grab you a water from the vending machine, and by the time you could reach in your coin purse to get him the money, he was already gone. He did not want to keep his favorite girl parched. Except when he got to the machine, he noticed there were two types of water and he did not know which one was your preference. He got both. When he walked back in with two bottles in his hand, all you could do was laugh with a confused expression at his panicked face.
“There were two, I didn’t know which one you liked more so I got both and-”
“John, it’s okay, let me pay you for both and you can keep one. You’re going to need it eventually, anyway.”
After he grabbed the water, he planted himself down next to you and rested his chin on your shoulder to try and get a better look at what it was you were working on. You quickly closed up the binder that was off to the side of Brian’s, considering it was John’s, and you had just pasted in a picture of a particularly low-cut button-up that you would love to see him wear. He did not really notice the motion, which you were thankful of. He genuinely seemed interested in both what it was you were doing and how you were doing it. It made you happy that John genuinely cared about you in this way. Ever since the diagnosis, and even before as well, he was always supportive of the way you did things, and he made it obvious. He wanted to make sure you were always comfortable, and if organizing a desk in the office or straightening up his section of the studio made you comfortable, then so be it. It did not scare him away from you, and you were so thankful for that. He sat there listening to what it was you were doing for them, and skimmed through Brian’s portfolio to explain the basic set-up of the binder that he would eventually be receiving.
“So, there’s not a thing I could do to get you to show me the progress of my binder, love?”
“Not a thing, Deaks. Not a chance.”
“Not even a peck on the cheek?”
“Not even tha- what?”
“I- I meant to say… not even… um…”
You felt like John could physically see your heart beating in your chest, and he turned as red as a steamed lobster. He had zero explanation as to where the confidence he just had came from. He just sort of said it, and the funny thing was, he did not want to take it back. He had been fighting the urge to tell you about his feelings for weeks, so if now was the time, now was the time. One could argue his moment was ruined, the other side of the argument is that he was saved by the bell. Just as John was struggling to find something else to say, the door to the studio swung open to reveal Roger arriving earlier than the other boys, extremely uncharacteristic of him. Despite it all, you were still thinking of the boys and your job, and you hated yourself for it. John had just said something that could change the dynamic of your friendship forever, and you were thinking about the fucking personality traits of his bandmates who truly did not matter in this moment.
“Well, am I interrupting? I know I’m early, but I happen to pass a donut shop each time I drive to this studio and I wanted an excuse to try it so I brought everyone breakfast. I can leave for a minute, if you need-”
“No, Rog, it’s okay. Y/N was just showing me what she is currently preparing for all of us. My bass is already warmed up, so if you want to get started, I can play with you until Brian and Fred get here.”
John shot up from his seat quicker than you would have liked. It almost hurt. But you were still in such a state of shock at the fact that he caught your slip up earlier and essentially responded to it, reciprocated it, that you were easily able to ignore the feeling. You watched as John grabbed a donut, a jelly, his favorite as you recall, and made his way to his bass. Roger looked at you first with a wild expression of shock at the emotion that was seemingly flowing through John at the moment, and then he looked at you with an expression that you could not place, because you knew that Roger had no idea about your feelings for John, and he certainly did not know what you did last night. You slowly made your way up to grab a donut, a boston crème, your favorite, and you noticed that it had been separated from the rest of the bunch. John was the only one in the box thus far, so you knew he had to have been the one that moved the donut over. You lifted the donut and glanced up into the booth where Roger had now made his way over, hoping John would be looking in your direction. He was. You softly smiled at him and lifted the donut so slightly, so as to say “Thanks for not letting Roger take this one.” He swallowed aggressively but forced a smile in return. His heart was beating a mile a minute, so he just wanted to get back to playing and let you get back to your work. He really did not regret it, despite how he was feeling, but he hated not getting to know what your response would have been. Would you have told him that maybe the kiss would have earned a peek at the binder? Would you have said that a peck on the cheek would not do it, but one on the lips would? Would you have slapped him? It was killing him, and Roger could tell. He did know about his feelings for you. He wanted to talk to John about it, but that was when Brian and Freddie walked in, so he did not get a chance. He would have to keep all the boys aside after rehearsal. Maybe he could even have Freddie talk to you so the three could plot something to get the two of you to at least admit your feelings. Better yet, trick you into going on a date or something.
“Good morning, beautiful people! You cannot make fun of my tardiness today because look – our favorite astrophysicist is late too!”
You looked up and laughed at Freddie’s comment, while Brian just rolled his eyes. The two of them made their way back to the studio, Brian ruffling your hair a little before making his way back there. John saw how your hair looked after the “little” ruffle, and could not help where his brain went. He was still reeling from the night before, and his half-confession, that he imagined that was what your hair might look like if the scene that played out in his head to help him the night before had really happened.
~
Practice went without any more super obvious connections between Y/N and John. There were little moments when Y/N would pick up on a particularly intoxicating bassline John would play. She would try her hardest not to, but her eyes would pry themselves away from the new binder that was sitting in front of her, which happened to be Roger’s, and look up toward the sound, only to be met with a pair of eyes peering deep into her own. These small moments went completely unnoticed by Brian and Freddie, mainly because they had only had their suspicions that John had feelings for the American. Roger stayed loyal to his friend and never breathed a word to them. They, now including Roger, were also completely clueless as to what had happened the night before, as well as the full story about what happened when Roger walked into rehearsal earlier. Besides the conversation John and Roger had weeks prior, there was no official confirmation of feelings between John and Y/N, except for what was said earlier in the day. Everyone was completely oblivious about what was really going on. At one point, Brian had called you into the back to help with something, which completely caught you off guard – none of the boys had ever wanted you to help with a recording session, including John. No offence was ever taken about that, mainly because the thought of helping out with the music never even occurred to you. You were there to manage, and get their name in the public. You also considered yourself instrumentally inept, but felt you had a somewhat mediocre voice. Something you were even scared to show John. Slowly but surely, after you had marked all the places in Roger’s binder with reminders about what exactly it was you were doing, you moved into the booth, hesitantly. You gave John a smile before turning your entire body and attention in Brian’s direction, sending him a smile as well, but not one as intimate as the one you gave John.
“Look, I know it’s weird for me to ask for your help.”
“It’s okay, really! I only know a small amount regarding John’s bass, so this is all new territory to me. I’m eager to please!” You regretted those words as soon as they came out of your mouth. Something in the back of your brain said that those words should be reserved for personal situations with John.
“Well, basically what I need you to do is simple. I’m going to play this riff:” Brian flawlessly plays a riff to a song you do not believe you have heard before. “Then, when I strum the last chord, I need you to place your fingers on these frets. When we do this live, it won’t be done as smoothly as on the record, but the sound will end up the same. Once your fingers are on the frets, I just need you to stand there as quietly as possible until the take is over. Do you think you can do that?”
“I think so, Brian. Let’s give it shot!”
Miami gave the cue to the boys that he was going to roll the tape and for them to begin whenever they were ready. Roger and Freddie were a little distracted at first, because they could not help but feel heat radiating from one portion of the booth, like someone was fuming at something. Their suspicions were answered when they looked at John. John was completely red in the face, gripping the neck of his bass with his left hand, head hung low toward his chest. Something was clearly bothering him, but they did not have a chance to ask if he was okay because Brian started the count off. John was fuming because of the close proximity you and Brian were sharing. He normally did not mind if you were with the boys and you happened to be seated to the other side of one of them and your knees would touch accidentally. That was the key word – accidentally. Whenever the five of you went out together, you always made it a point to sit next to John, and depending on that seat, sometimes you were seated next to another band mate, and they were all a lot larger than he was. They would end up taking a lot of the seat and occasionally bumped into you. It was harmless. This was the opposite. John knew he had absolutely no reason to be this angry with Brian. He knew that he was seeing someone, but for some reason it made his blood boil. He just wanted to get the take over with, make sure it was done flawlessly, and get you back to your spot on the couch where he can see you in your element. It would calm him down immensely to see you doing the thing that keeps you the calmest. During the course of the take, Brian, Freddie, and John had all moved around a little bit, force of habit for musicians when they get into whatever it is they are playing. John, completely unintentionally, had hopped his way towards you, his front to your back, Freddie had made his way backwards toward Roger’s drumkit, and Brian had shifted so his body was even closer to yours. Your feet had not moved a muscle. The take had finished, and Miami said that it was great. You remained still, until a large force knocked you off your feet. Brian had meant to take off he guitar from around his body, but instead of lifting the strap, he missed and his arm went straight to your gut. The force was strong, him being so tall and you being so short, and it knocked you backwards. If something had not been there, you would have landed straight onto your ass. Except you hit something strong. Solid. Unwavering. You fell backwards into John. As soon as your entire backside from your shoulders to your ass hit John’s bass and torso, his strumming arm wrapped around you reflexively. The top of your head bumped into his chin, and John let out a small whine of pain, indicating that it was not real painful, but it smarted a little bit. You turned around as best you could while still being enveloped in John’s arm to look at his face and make sure you did not hurt him again like you did all those weeks ago.
“John! Was that your chin? I’m so sorry, I didn’t break one of your teeth or something, did I?”
“’s okay, really. Just a surprise, is all.”
“John, we’ve been here before, don’t lie to me if you’re in pain, love.” As you called him the nickname he had reserved for you, your hands came up to caress his lower face. Your thumb lightly grazed his chin to feel if there were any bumps forming, while lightly poking your tongue through your lips. Unknowingly the way that drove John insane. You two had been here before. John knew it. You knew it.
Why were your hearts beating so much faster than last time? Eventually your examination of John’s chin had finished, and as he solemnly released you from his hold, you gave his chin one more rub with your fingers and breathed out a sigh.
“Well, I guess you’re okay this time. If you start to feel a bump, please tell me love, I can’t see you hurt again because of me.”
“Will do… love.”
As oblivious as the boys can be, it would take a real dumbass to not notice what just happened between you two. Roger had known there was something going on in John’s heart, but he, frankly, never imagined that there would be a reciprocation. Freddie and Brian were just as shocked. Not because they did not think John would ever find love, but just the severity with which the feelings hit him over the head. It was like he had been reborn under your spell.
~
The boys did just a few more takes, only allotting you about twenty more minutes to work on Roger’s binder, so most of the sticky notes you made remained in their place. Miami told the boys that he was leaving, so he would see you all in the morning. You all exchanged your goodbyes, and you began to pack up your papers as the boys packed up their instruments. Roger riskily tested the waters for a minute to see if Miami had turned off the speakers that were in the booth so the musicians could speak freely to those in the studio. He said your name while you were looking down at your papers, and if your head shot up, he would have made a grave mistake. But your head did not budge. He knew this was his opportunity.
“Lads, c’mere.” Shuffles of feet towards Roger were heard by everyone but you. “I hate to do this to John, but that little exchange earlier gave me all the evidence I needed. Deaks has fallen head over heels for our little American gal, and we all know he is too damn shy to do anything about it.” While Roger is speaking, John had made his way into the studio with you to let you know that his chin was actually okay. “I think the three of us, meaning you, Brian, and myself need to come up with an excuse as to why John cannot walk Y/N to her car tonight. Freddie, you need to be the one to walk her to her car and you need to grill her the way you know how. Figure out if she’s into him, and then say you forgot something and come back and report here. I have a plan to keep John in here.”
The two of you were the ones who were completely oblivious now.
“Deaky! C’mere!” John pried himself away from you and made his way into the booth. “Look, I hate to do this to you man, but I need you and Brian to hang back with me for a minute to look over this part. Miami cut us off before I could ask and if I don’t do this now, I’m going to forget all of it.”
“But I need to walk Y/N to her car, Rog.”
“Nonsense, darling, she can come say goodnight really fast and I will walk her out and keep her safe. No harm done, it’ll be fine.”
“Fred-”
“I won’t hear another word from you! It’s settled. Y/N, sweetheart, come bid us goodnight, these gentlemen have to stay back and work on something, so I will be your escort to your car tonight!”
You had just finished packing up all of your paperwork in your backpack, and made your way to the foursome standing behind the glass. You stood in your normal spot next to John.
“Well, darling, let’s get this show on the road. You will see them tomorrow, so no need to look so glum!”
“I’m not glum, Freddie, I just like having my routine with John. He makes me feel safe. But… I do understand if this is a pressing matter. Goodnight boys, and goodnight Deaks.” You lifted your hand to cup his chin again, to which he immediately leaned into and lightly held the hand that was on his face with his own. Humming lightly in response.
“Goodnight, love. Sleep well.”
Freddie then took you by your arm and walked you to your car. Once there, he offered to place your backpack in the passenger seat for you so you could get your car up and running. You let him do so, and while he was walking back, you heard him as a question but it got muffled by the sound of your car starting.
“What did you say, Fred? I didn’t catch that.”
“Oh, I just said it seems like you have a little bit of an attraction to our dear Deaky, yes?”
You went red at the bold assumption that was clearly the truth. How were you supposed to respond to such a blunt question like that?
“I’ll take your facial expression, color, and lack of words as a resounding yes. Darling, I am not going to say a word about it to our dear friend John, nor the boys. I just wanted to know if you were like that with all guys or if our John was special, and now I know he is! That’s all I wanted to know. But it looks like you’re all strapped in and ready to go, and I’m realizing that I forgot something in the studio, so I’m going to run back and grab it. Drive safe, darling!”
“Wait! Please tell John to call me when he gets home, okay?”
“Will do!”
With that, you drove off, anxiously awaiting and counting down the moments for when John would be calling you. All you wanted to do was make sure that everything he stayed at the studio for was okay, considering Roger seemed a little bit frantic about it. Freddie made his way back into the studio, and then all the boys walked out together, babbling about whatever. They all walked to John’s car first, since he had the heaviest stuff to take home, and they said their goodnights as they watched him pull away.
“Alright, Fred. What’d you find out?”
“She’s into him! You were right, Roger, you sly dog!”
“Well, Rog, if you are so smart, what do you suppose the next move should be then?” Brian was looking at Roger with a disapproving face, while Freddie was giddy with glee about playing matchmaker.
“A scheme of sorts. We need to arrange it so they can go on an adventure together, and then somehow end up needing to stay together, preferably at his house. They need a push to confess, because honestly if I see another gushy moment between the two of them and they aren’t official, I am going to shove their faces together myself.”
“Amen, Roger, amen.”
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deutscheshausnyu · 6 years
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Interview with Writer-in-Residence Ursula Fricker
Ursula Fricker was born in 1965 in the Swiss town of Schaffhausen. She trained as a social worker and taught theatre studies. Her first novel, Fliehende Wasser (Fleeing Water) was awarded the prize for single best work by the Swiss Schiller Foundation in 2014 as well as a year’s writer-residency by the City of Zürich. In 2009 she published Das letzte Bild (The last Image), and in 2012 Ausser sich (Frantic), which was nominated for the Swiss Book Prize. Lügen von gestern und heute (Past and Present Lies) was awarded the Brandenburgischen Kunstföderpreis in 2017.
Ursula Fricker will participate in the upcoming Festival Neue Literatur 2018 (March 23-25), a collaborative project of New York’s leading German-language cultural institutions. The 2018 festival invites authors from Germany, Austria, Switzerland, and the U.S.  to tackle questions of identity and belonging in a fracturing Europe and beyond, using race, religion, immigration, status, politics, and even soccer hooliganism as lenses to explore contemporary society and the recent past.
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© Susanne Schleyer/autorenarchiv.de
When did you know you wanted to become an author?
This was more of a subtle process than a decision. I´ve always read a lot. I remember that once when I was about twelve or maybe thirteen, I asked myself how it would be to write a novel and thought that it must be incredibly difficult. My origin is a working-class family without much of an affinity to the idea of making a living out of art. Nevertheless, bit by bit, I made a living out of art. Writing became my place to be.
Can you tell us a bit about your creative writing process? What inspires you? Where and when are you most productive? Do you have a favorite place to write?
I need long term empty periods of time. Full schedules make me sick. I need a room for myself. It’s a bit sad to say and also a cliché, but my most productive inspiration seems to come out of a certain discontent, discomfort, and doubt about political or social development – an impulse of contradiction.
You were born in Switzerland, but you moved to Germany following the fall of the Berlin Wall. Which of these two countries do you now consider home, and has this in any way shaped how you view the world (and render it in your novels)?
First, home is where I am. But of course, Brandenburg/Berlin, where I’ve lived for almost thirty years now, has become home. Home contains the Brandenburg landscape, which I admire a lot: mostly unspoiled, original plains and endless woods, wide and wild. In that sense, I am an old romantic, although I also love huge chaotic cities, majestic architecture, industrial sites, bridges, and human formed landscapes. In a way, of course, I am a migrant – of free will. While I’ve assimilated into Eastern Germany, I still feel a sense of belonging to Swiss society…not so much in national terms, but rather in terms of the mentality and way of thinking.
I can´t say whether the experience of migration has shaped my way of writing, because I just don´t know how it would have been otherwise. What my life and writing may shape is a certain urge and passion to start anew, which is a blessing and curse in one.
Your fourth novel, Past and Present Lies, is set against the background of the current refugee crisis and tackles contemporary subjects head on. What special powers does fiction have to help us understand and confront the world today, and what overarching message were you hoping to communicate with this book?
Well, the novel was actually written before the current, what we call, refugee crisis in Europe occurred. I started research in 2011/12 and finished writing in the summer of 2015. The setting tackles a very special issue we had in Berlin throughout this time: an activist/refugee camp in a small park in the city. And we had a local government who accepted the occupation as an expression of comprehensible protest. The narration is built around this situation. There are three characters: an activist, a migrant, and an interior senator (Innensenator). It was essential for me to draw three more or less understandable views on the same issue.
Since 2015, the debate has been heating up. My novel came out just at the peak of the so-called “welcoming culture” (Willkommenskultur) in Germany during the spring of 2016. Since not all characters in the novel empathize with the refugees, some blogs and newspapers (if they reviewed the book at all) accused it of being “politically dangerous”…whatever that means. When I wrote the novel, I had a quite naïve intention. I wanted to open the window and see what’s happening. Empathy, I think, is a very valuable thing, and should not be misused to comfortably confirm the side we sympathize with and deny or exclude all other perspectives. The result would be, I believe, a very restrictive and illiberal way of thinking.
For example, I´ve set the character of Interior Senator Otten not the way everybody would expect. In my novel, the “bad guy” is a decent human being. Readers find themselves, maybe against their will, understanding the thoughts and arguments of a conservative politician. Can you do that, everybody would ask. If literature has a power, what else could that be but to allow us to slip into the mind of somebody else, someone who may even be the opposite of us. This, of course, is also quite delicate and raises the question of who is worth being understood. Is there a red line? These are interesting questions that are important to discuss.
You will be presenting Past and Present Lies at the annual Festival Neue Literatur in New York, where the theme this year is INSIDER | OUTSIDER.  Could you reflect on this theme in regards to your novel, and your novel’s main characters Beba, Isa, and Otten?
It’s all about insider/outsider in the novel, it is actually one of the main subjects! The leftist group around Isa, the activist, is loudly claiming for inclusion. But in real life, they are drawing a sharp line between insiders and outsiders. Interior Senator Otten dealt with the same issue in his youth. This has marked him for life and shapes his action today. Beba as a migrant and prostitute is a clear outsider, but feels like an insider. Some wished that she would have been more vulnerable, but she is an unconventional, willful character, not a victim. And sometimes, outsiders become insiders very quietly and draw new lines of segregation.
Is this your first time visiting New York? If you have been here before, how are things different now from the last time you were here?
I´ve visited New York several times before. The first time was in 1987, when I stayed in Queens in a kind of commune, together with a bunch of Irish expats for almost four months. Fun times!
Everything is quite different now. Safer. Cleaner. Less crazy. But New York is still overwhelming in so many ways.
How do you plan to spend your residency in New York? Will you take advantage of the cultural scene or do you plan to mainly focus on your writing and research for future projects?
I have to focus quite strictly on the current project, my next novel, which is just about to be finished. But since I mainly work in the very early mornings, I allow myself to stroll around in the afternoons. I love observing the street life, discovering outlying parts of the city, and marveling at the architecture. I also go to museums, exhibitions, and concerts now and then.
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lagroupie · 7 years
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Interview: Tony Malacara from Mystic Braves
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A few weeks ago, I met Tony from Mystic Braves before the band’s concert at Le Bourg for Croc’ The Rock festival. We had a nice conversation hanging out in the middle of Lausanne, during which Tony told me about his life in the U.S., the music scene in Echo Park, the bands’ album Days of Yesteryear, singing in Spanish, and much more. He also asked me if there would be enough people coming to their show, as they never got any requests from fans online asking them to come to Switzerland. I answered that yes, people would come. They ended up playing in a venue packed with people dancing and singing. I think everyone had fun that night.
Before we talk about your music, I wanted to know what your life was like in the US.
Tony Malacara: Well, I live about two hours away from Los Angeles, in San Diego. I guess I’m more of a homebody. I don’t really go out too much anymore you know. The last couple of years I haven’t really been going out. I need to save that for when we’re on tour! Too much partying, you just gotta calm down a little bit! Because you get old and you just need to relax you know. San Diego is more like a sports city, it’s not really a musical place. Julian lives in San Diego, nearby from where I do. Probably one hour away. And Shane, Froggy (ndlr: Ignacio) and Cameron all live in Echo Park.
I’ve heard of this place called Echo Park in Los Angeles! A lot of bands from L.A. told me about it.
(laughs) Yeah, that’s like being in high school, and you run into everyone you know! You walk down the street and you run into Levitation Room for example. The scene in Echo Park is really cool. That’s like one big family.
Is it ok to rehearse together even though you live in different cities?
Yeah, I mean we’ve got a studio in the works called Lollipop records. They switched locations, so there’s a jam room and they’re gonna build a studio and all that.
I think one of you guys actually runs Lollipop records right?
Yeah, I guess you could say that Froggy and Wyatt Blair run it.
I also wanted to know: do you guys like fashion a lot?
Yeah! I mean, we love clothes, but we can only afford to shop at thrift shops (laughs). I think that it’s always something we’ve had in common. We all like clothes. Normally when we go on tour, one of our favorite things to do is being able to go to all these vintage thrift shops and get cool clothes. I think Shane is a lot more into fashion than all of us, but I guess it goes with the music.
So what do you think is the link between your 60s-inspired style and your music?
When we started the band, the music- that’s what we listened to. My favorite music is from that era. I mean, I like stuff from the 70s and the 90s, modern bands that are our friends, but not really hip-hop or any of that stuff. But we’re just really into that whole 60s vibe, and we feel that it’s when the music was the best you know.
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Let’s talk about Days of Yesteryear. I hope I pronounced that right.
Yeah, Days of Yesteryear. That’s our latest record, although it was two years ago! (laughs)
Yeah, I noticed! But… is it ok if we still talk about it? Or are you tired…
No, it’s cool! What do you want to know? (laughs)
What’s the title about?
I guess - just looking back at it- all the stuff that we progressed and went through to get to making that album properly done, with someone who actually knows what they’re doing- Rob Campanella, he’s actually one of my best friends. Cameron somehow started talking to him, and then we thought “let’s record it with him and give it a shot.” In our eyes, we didn’t know the record was going to come out so good. It’s my favorite so far.
Yeah, I thought it sounded a bit cleaner!
Yeah, the quality and everything is done the right way. It’s better to have someone who knows what they’re doing than someone who’s still learning.
Besides this change in production, did you have a different approach for this record?
Well, we just thought to ourselves “let’s make another record, because it’s about time.” When we got to his studio, we noticed all his gear was 60s stuff. That was part of why the record came out so good, it’s because we were having fun making it. We were like kids in the candy shop, playing with all this vintage gear. Plus, he’s one of the nicest guys on the planet you know. So having him co-produce it and record it was just good vibes, and you need that when you’re making music. It’s a big part of it.
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I noticed a lot of Hispanic / Spanish influences on this album- I know that some of you guys have Mexican and Argentinian origins…
Froggy and I are Mexican! Let me see… so I think Froggy said he was Aztec, Mexican and Irish. Shane is Spanish and Navajo. Cameron is – I think – Cherokee, white, German… Julian’s family is from Argentina, and I’m just Mexican-American. Chicano, you know? (laughs)
So my question is: why not try and sing in Spanish?
Well, the only one who knows how to talk in Spanish is Froggy! I mean, I was born in America- I should know Spanish but I don’t.
Ah, I’m sorry! I thought you knew Spanish because one of the songs is titled in Spanish.
I mean, I’m not sure- if it came down to it, I could learn how to sing a song in Spanish. But it’s actually kind of funny, because me and- I’m not sure who it was, we were talking a little while ago about singing some of the songs and re-doing some of the vocals in Spanish. So that is something that we want to do, it just hasn’t happened yet you know. It’s been a while since we actually got back into a studio to make a record or anything. So lately we’ve been talking about making another record. Maybe then we’ll sing in Spanish. I think I always wanted to record a song in Spanish. I’m a Beatles fan, so when they sang songs in German, I thought “this is fuckin’ great, I gotta do that!”.
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I also wanted to talk about one of my favorite songs of the album if you don’t mind. It’s Now That You’re Gone.
I think you’re the first person to ever say that! For some reason I’ve never heard people talk about it. The song is about my dad, who died. We didn’t have a relationship, we never really got to know each other. Before he died, I gave him my music- a tape. And he gave me his tapes. But we didn’t see each other, I just gave this to him and he gave it to me. And on his deathbed, he had our tape on the nightstand right next to him. He listened to it, and he was all crying, “that’s my son”. And I’m like, “oh, now I’m your son?”. But then he had died, so what they said when he did was that Mystic Braves’ tape was next to his bedstand. And then I heard his music. That’s why I said: now that you’re gone, you thought that I didn’t care and we didn’t have a relationship, but I still cared about you. Because he’s my dad.
I think I understand how you feel a little bit because I have dad problems too, although it’s a bit different- I cut ties with him because he was very…
Abusive?
Yes, verbally. But it was for my own good and probably his own good as well.
Anyway, now I have a fun question- If you had to record an album in an unrealistic place, what would you choose between McDonalds, The Moon, and Earth during prehistoric times?
The Earth during prehistoric times! Because I’ll get some pterodactyls in the background you know? Or some dinosaurs sound effects (laughs). It’s either that or you record at McDonalds and they say in the background “the big mac’s ready!” So yeah, prehistoric times.
Finally what can we expect from Mystic Braves in the future?
Hmm… A lot more albums, that’s for sure. And a lot more touring, coming back to places more than once or twice. Trying to make every record sound a little bit different than the last, and sending a message of love.
http://www.mysticbraves.com/
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Relocation from NYC to Chicago: Ashley’s Perspective
I’m Dorothy Moody, owner of HotSpot Rentals since 2012 and a former New Yorker. I’ve been in the apartment rentals business for ten years and have helped thousands of people move to the Chicago area, so I know from experience that moving is one of the most simultaneously exciting and nerve-wracking experiences you can have in life, especially if you move from one big city to another. Everyone wonders, “Will I fit in here in Chicago?” and “Will my lifestyle change?” I wondered the same things when I moved here from New York City. At HotSpot, we want to be sure you settle into your new apartment easily and that you enjoy life in Chicago. To give you an idea of what to expect when relocating, I’ve asked Ashley, a 35-year-old NYC native, what it’s been like moving from NYC to Chicago.
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Why did you move to Chicago?
“I moved to Chicago to be with my fiancé. We have dated long distance for our entire relationship, and when we got engaged, we needed to decide where to live. While I LOVED living in NYC, we decided that Chicago, where Christian has lived for the past 12 years, made the most sense for us long term.”
How long have you been in Chicago?
“I’ve been in Chicago for about a month and a half.”
Had you visited before?
“Yes, many times, especially over the past two years!”
What is the biggest difference you have noticed so far?
“The city is MUCH smaller but cleaner and less crowded – more spacious. The apartments are also so much more spacious!”
What do you miss most about NYC?
“The energy of NYC and fast-paced environment – both a blessing and a curse.”
What do you like about Chicago more than NYC?
“The cost of living. It’s nice that it’s not nearly as crowded. It’s nice to not always have that super fast pace! Also, they sell wine everywhere.”
What one word sums up Chicago based on your experience?
“Neighborly.”
Favorite thing to do in Chicago so far?
“So far, I’m still in exploration mode – spending time outside! Checking out the restaurant scene, summer street fests, etc. Looking forward to concerts in the park and going to the beach!”
Favorite restaurants you have tried so far?
“Mott Street and Clever Rabbit.”
Are you a sports fan? Which sport? Which team?
“Not die hard, but I enjoy going to baseball games. I’m a Yankees and Cincinnati Reds fan. I lived in Ohio until I was 12. So far I’ve been to two Cubs games, so I think they will become my adopted team.”
Did you have friends here when you moved here?
“A few, not very many. Working on making some new friends, which can be challenging as an adult, particularly without a job, but everyone I encounter is super welcoming and friendly.”
What neighborhood did you end up moving to?
“We moved to Wicker Park.”
Do you have any pets?
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“We have two dogs. I brought my Toy American Eskimo, Chloe, here from New York, and my fiancé has a Britney Spaniel, Charley. Chloe is enjoying having much more greenery!”
What were the main goals of finding your place in Chicago?
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Finding a place that’s big enough for two people, two dogs, and would enable us both to work from home. Eat-in kitchen with an open counter. Lots of natural light!”
How was the price of rent compared to New York?
“Significantly less expensive! Our 3 BR is 16% more than my 1 BR in Brooklyn and is on par with what a 1 BR would cost in some parts of Manhattan. Apartments are MUCH bigger. It took me some time to adjust to the amount of living space we now have.”
Do you notice a difference in the cost of living?
“YES! Everything is significantly less expensive, from groceries, dining out, gym memberships, etc.”
Where do you work?
“I quit my job to move here because my role [legal technology sales] was territory-based. My former clients are all in the Northeast. I’m still looking for my next gig.”
If you could give advice to other New Yorkers who are moving here, what would you tell them?
“Don’t have the expectation that Chicago is going to be a smaller, cleaner version of New York. I’ve heard this description from multiple people, but the cities and cultures are COMPLETELY different.
If you have allergies, be prepared for allergy season. They didn’t affect me nearly as much in the concrete jungle that is NYC. There are a lot more trees and greenery, even in the more urban neighborhoods in Chicago.
Also, don’t forget to bring bags with you when you go shopping to avoid the bag tax. I’m still working on remembering that one!”
If you could clear up one thing about New York for Chicagoans, what would it be?
“I think one of the biggest misconceptions is that New Yorkers are rude. I completely disagree – it’s just a different culture that is blunt and straightforward. New Yorkers are direct and don’t have time for nonsense. We have no problem stating our opinion. It’s a super-crowded, fast-paced city, and there’s a blurring between public and private life that breeds an unspoken sense of familiarity and community. There’s no need for superfluous pleasantries or beating around the bush. Everyone is in the same boat of needing to get stuff done, and we all share that mutual understanding.”
Do you have any personal stories or interesting anecdotes to share with our readers?
“I recently met a girl who asked if I wanted to do a hot yoga class with her, and my response was ‘No, I don’t like being hot.’ She was taken aback, laughed out loud and said, ‘I love the directness,’ as if she was expecting me to say maybe or yes, even though I had no interest. Thankfully, she didn’t take it as being rude, and we agreed to do pilates at a normal temperature.”
What Dorothy Learned About Moving from NYC to Chicago Today
Like Ashley, I also grew up in New York, and I was kind of curious to see what a new transplant would say. I’ve lived in Chicago for 17 years, and I completely relate to the misunderstanding that people share about New Yorkers. I realize that I have softened up a bit on directness, but maybe that’s okay. I wouldn’t trade my time in NYC for anything, but I LOVE Chicago, and I’m excited for Ashley and Christian as they get started on their new journey.
If you’re considering a move to the great city of Chicago, now is the perfect time. We have plenty of gorgeous luxury apartments ready for lease, as well as some new ones on the way, so contact us at HotSpot Rentals to see what we have to offer. We’d love to help you find you that new Chicago apartment you’ve dreamed of!
The post Relocation from NYC to Chicago: Ashley’s Perspective appeared first on HotSpot Rentals.
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