Brian was regretting ever introducing you to his band mates as you haven’t been able shut up about how much you adore Wonpil ever since, or how “precious he looks when he smiles” or how you “just want to scoop him up and twirl him around in my arms like a baby koala”.
“He’s not even that cute.” Brian grumbles, pouting down at you as you lay in his lap and rave about the keyboardist for the millionth time.
You snort at his clearly resentful comment, “You’re just bitter cuz you ain’t as cute as he is.”
“I’m not jealous. I just don’t see what he has that I don’t.” He asks, not expecting you to fucking start listing everything you think he lacks.
You didn’t do it with bad intentions, it was just the nature of your friendship to tease each other like that. But midway through your roasting of him, you notice that he’s not playfully chagrined like he usually is, but more actually hurt than anything.
“Wait, are you actually upset about this?” You gape, suddenly feeling guilty.
“No... maybe?” He shrugs, looking away wistfully.
You reach your hands up to gently turn his face back towards you, but he keeps his eyes averted. “Are you... jealous?”
Again, he shrugs and bites his lip. “Is it jealousy to wish you were saying those things about me instead?”
“Yes.” You gulp.
“Then call me jealous.” His gaze meets yours and you gasp at the intensity you see in them.
You didn’t think that a stupid crush on his band mate would lead you here, forcing you to face hidden emotions you don’t know if you were ready to face.
You shoot up from his lap, feeling a sense of unease you’ve never felt in his presence before. “I think I should go.” You croak, but he grabs onto you.
“Stay. Please.”
He looks as scared as you felt, and you know you can’t leave him alone with his thoughts, they would eat him up. So you stay. For better or worse, you stay.
send me any Day6 song and member/ any sentence of dialogue you want + a genre and I’ll write a little drabble for you.
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“This is not a spur of the moment kind of thing.” he says as he carefully set his guitar inside its case. Two casual strides and he’s right in front of her again, taking her hands with his and looking closely into her eyes. “I’ve been saving this for the right moment but I guess I don’t have to wait long.” It’s true. You don’t really wait for the right moment to come; you make it.
She opens her mouth to say something but Brian beats her to it. Why would she accuse Brian of an impulsive marriage proposal, anyway? When Brian is more like an overly cautious guy - who checks the weather forecast every morning before going out to make sure he’s got an umbrella or wore the right clothes for the day, who double checks the door locks every night before going to bed?
To say Brian is nervous is an understatement - he is tense all over. “All my life I had been so afraid of uncertainty. But when I’m with you it’s like I’d be willing to take any risk. In a heartbeat. Without having second thoughts.”
Prompt: “You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?” + “I’m pregnant.” + “I’m your husband. It’s my job.” + “Did they hurt you?”
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 1089
Member: Brian/Young K
Warnings: cursing
It was late by the time both of you had made it to dinner. You didn’t want to go in the first place, but Brian insisted. It was for your wedding anniversary after all. But you just weren’t in the mood. Not after you found out the news.
You were seated across from your husband in the dimly lit restaurant. Usually, you would find this romantic, but tonight you just sat there, poking at your food, avoiding Brian’s gaze. You nodded along, half interested in what he had been saying. You take a small bite of your food before you continue prodding at it with your fork.
“Y/n?”
“Hmm?” You don’t look up at him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” You can hear the lie in your own voice.
Brian drops his hand onto the table, resting it gently over yours, causing you to look up at the man sitting across from you.
“Please. You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing.” You repeat, this time followed by a fake smile.
“Please don’t lie to me.”
“How are you able to see right through me like that?”
He smiled. “I’m your husband. It’s my job. That, and you’re a terrible liar.”
He was right of course, by now your husband could read you like a book. You pull your hand out from under his, rubbing your temples in concern as you give a quick glance around the restaurant. You finally turn back to Brian, dropping your hand with a sigh.
“I’m pregnant.”
You see his expression falter, fear crossing his face before he shows you a forced smile.
“Th-that’s great!” He stutters.
You sigh. You knew this would happen.
“It’s the complete opposite of great, Brian.”
“What? Why would you think that?”
“How are we supposed to raise a child right now? You’re in-between shitty jobs and I just lost mine. We can’t even afford this damn dinner!”
You drop your cutlery onto the plate, letting it clatter loudly. People at nearby tables glance in your direction. Brian offers them an apologetic look before turning back to you.
“How are we meant to afford a damn baby.” You feel tears sting your eyes as you look up at your husband.
“We can make it work, it'll be okay.”
You scoff at his response.
“Okay? You didn’t even want a child to begin with. You said you never wanted one, so it’s not like you’re over the moon about this news.” You choke on a sob before taking a deep breath, wiping at your eyes, trying to compose yourself.
“We’re not even ready for something like this.” Your voice is lower now, shaking slightly as you try to stay calm. “Financially and emotionally.”
“That doesn’t mean we just give up.”
“What else can we do? Raising a child isn’t exactly easy.”
“Of course it isn’t. But we can get through this, together.”
You shake your head, looking away as your hands rest in your lap. He didn’t understand. You didn’t want it to happen like this. You didn’t want to fall pregnant on accident. You didn’t want to be forced to raise a child together when you weren’t ready for one, it would probably test your marriage, which still felt so new to you, even after two years.
You wanted to be one of the couples that plan for this. The ones that keep track of their monthly cycle so they know the best possible time to try for a baby. You wanted to be financially stable. You wanted to be the couple that already have names picked out. The couple that has already ordered all the baby furniture the day they find out. The couple that is ready.
“I can ask for more shifts until I find something better. We can change the study to a nursery and we can…”
Brian continues to think of the future, but his voice doesn’t reach your ears. You’re too stuck in your own mind to register anything he is saying. You reach for your untouched glass of red wine. Brian grabs your wrist as you pick up the glass.
“Don’t.”
You sit the glass back down.
“Sorry, but I’m not in the mood to eat anymore.” You grab your purse from the side of the table. “I’ll be in the car.” You stand and make your way towards the door.
Brian quickly pays for the meals and rushes after you.
-
The drive home is quiet. The roads are dark and near-empty as it creeps late into the night. The radio is off and neither of you speak. You stare out the window as Brian pulls into a petrol station.
You don’t register what’s happening until your door is pulled open by a stranger. He points a gun at you as your blood runs cold.
“Get out of the car.” He demands.
Panicked, you fumble for your seatbelt, trying to unclip it with shaky hands.
The man glances behind him, seeing two people running towards the car from inside, carrying their stolen goods.
“I said get out of the fucking car!” He grabs your hair and pulls you out, throwing you to the ground.
You look towards the back of the car and see Brian, his arms raised in the air as another man points a gun at him. The man rushes into the drivers' side, the other man climbing into your seat, and the two from inside the store jump into the back.
Brian rushes to your side as the car takes off. You can’t take it anymore. You sit on the cold cement ground and burst into tears.
“Y/n!” Brian drops down beside you, grabbing your arms gently, scanning your body for any signs of harm.
“Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
“They took it. My-my purse was in there. My cards. My house keys.” You stutter through heavy sobs.
“Hey, hey, look at me.” He grabs your chin and lifts your face. Your gaze drifts up from the ground to find his soft brown eyes, filled with concern, watching you.
“Th-they took everything.”
“I don’t care about that right now. I just need to know you’re both safe.”
Tears continue to fall down your face, but your sobbing subsides.
“Both of us?” You slowly bring a hand to your stomach as you nod.
Brian sighs with relief, pulling you closer. You rest your head onto his chest as you cry into his shirt.
You knew you'd be okay, as long as Brian is by your side.
23 - “Look me in the eye and tell me you love me.”
Younghyun had been on tour for over three months now and you hadn’t missed him once. The realization was a slap in the face for you. You knew leaving would hurt him, but you also knew that staying when you lost the love for him would hurt him more. You just had to make it one more month until he made it back.
You were ready for this. You already had your things packed, you just had to have the conversation. He walked through the door, bright eyed and smiling, but that changed as soon as he saw your serious face. He dropped his bags and ran over to you asking you what was wrong. You knew a straight forward approach was the best option. “I think I might be better off without you.” You kept your tone flat, trying to let him know you were serious. You didn’t want to hurt him more than necessary.
The look of betrayal hit his face immediately, as the yelling began. He asked if you had found someone else, which you denied, but he didn’t buy it. Grabbing your face he forced your face up to look at his. “Look me in the eye and tell me you love me.” You grabbed his hands and removed them from your face, shifted your gaze and uttered the final blow. “I can’t.
Warnings: fluff, then angst, then fluff again; you may need tissues, I don’t know; tipsy Brian
A/N: Had a feel for some angsty!Bri yesterday. This is obviously set in early 70s, when Queen was not so popular yet, and boys all struggled with money and stuff. Also, I listened to “She Makes Me (Stormtrooper In Stilettos)” and felt a strong vibe with this babe.
A clock on the kitchen wall said half past two when Brian finally stumbled into your shared flat. It was dark and quiet, which meant you were most definitely asleep upstairs. Brian was more than tipsy at the moment, but not drunk enough not to realize it wouldn't be a good thing, waking you up with a thud of his wooden clogs falling to the floor by the door. But the clogs didn't realize that and the guitarist winced at the loud sound echoing through the hall. Still, he tried to move around as quietly as possible, tiptoeing to the bathroom to get himself somewhat cleaned up. He caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror, flushed, eyes unfocused, and he sighed heavily.
Tonight was not a great idea. He should have called it a night few drinks earlier. Not that he planned on drinking any alcohol at all today. He was so completely broke he couldn't effort anything other than a glass of water. But the barman at the pub, where Queen had their gig that evening, poured them a round on the house. Then some people how enjoyed Brian's playing bought him a drink. Then another and another, and another, and a few more. Good thing he knew when to stop, otherwise he'd have been spending the night in some ditch instead of his own bedroom.
He quickly splashed his face with cold water, getting rid of annoying thoughts, before carefully slipping under the covers next to you. He slung an arm round your waist, scooting you closer and you buried your face in his chest.
It was still all new and astonishing to him - coming back home to a girl, his girl, waking up in the morning with you lying next to him. Going through the morning routine together and spending those few free afternoons curled up on a couch in front of TV or listening to the records. Together. It still felt strange but familiar at the same time. It felt like home.
Your hair smelled like coconut, your heart beat in a steady, well-known rhythm that always calmed his nerves. You were soft and warm in his arms, heat seeping from your body into his. You were perfection. Brian had no idea what it was that he did, to deserve such an extraordinary gift from above that was you.
His hand, that rested on your hip, moved down to slip under the hem of your short nightdress. His fingertips traveled over your skin tenderly, almost shyly, as if they handled some extremely fragile material, afraid of making any damage. You moved in his arms, tensing a little and he pressed a soothing kiss to your forehead, then another to your temple. He brushed away a strand of hair, his lips reaching for your neck, as his palm found it's place on your bottom, giving it a gentle squeeze.
You groaned in your sleep, uncontent, and proceeded to untangle yourself from his limbs. You moved to your other side, turning your back to him with a quiet huff. Brian tried to reach for you again but you pulled the covers around yourself tightly, shielding from him with an annoyed grunt.
Brian's heart sunk a little. Here was the thing. Did he really deserve you? He doubted that more every day. Even though the two of you moved in together, you seemed to grow further apart day by day. You barely seen each other, both busy and caught up in your work or too tired to actually do something productive. You rarely let him touch you, like tonight, and Brian couldn't shake the feeling it had a lot to do with all the problems the two of you had been experiencing lately. They seemed to proliferate uncontrollably like cancer cells, especially the financial ones. Brian felt he was the one responsible for that mostly and it was enough of a reason for your lack of interest in him. He couldn't say he blame you though. Which woman would want a man who couldn't even pay his bills?
With a heavy sigh, he turned from you as well, facing the opposite side of the dark bedroom, letting the equally dark thoughts lull him to sleep.
“‘Morning,” you greeted Brian as you walked into the kitchen the next day.
He turned from the counter and gave you a weak smile, sliding you a cup of coffee. He looked drained, his shoulders sunk in, his curly hair stuck in all directions. His face was pale, with dark rings under the reddened eyes. He avoided you gaze, getting himself busy with breakfast preparations.
“You look awful,” you commented, taking a sip of a freshly brewed drink. “What on earth were you drinking? You didn't seem so completely wasted last night, why so hangover now?”
“Something Rog thought was good,” he waved it off. “Don't worry, I'll be fine. Just tired.”
He offered you another small smile and made a move as he'd wanted to lean down a press a kiss to your forehead, like he did every morning. But he changed his mind half way through it, placing a hand on your arm and squeezing it shortly, instead. He then pushed by you to get to the fridge.
“Ok, now I'm really worried,” you frowned in confusion, squinting at his turned back.
“Didn't brush my teeth yet,” he shrugged but you didn't have it.
“That's bollocks,” you said, pointing at the fresh stains of toothpaste on his dressing gown. “What's going on, Brian? Is it because I didn't want to have sex with you last night? I'm sorry, baby, I really wasn't in a mood. It was late, I was exhausted, been working double shifts for the past three days and I had to get to work early again today. I needed some sleep. And it didn't help that you came back smelling like smoke and digested alcohol, sorry. It reminds me of my college days, working in shitty bars to pay my loans. Had my fair share of drunk guys trying to get in my underwear back then. Not the biggest turn-on for a girl, you know?” you sighed. ”But I guess we could make up for it tonight, when I finally come back at decent hour, like a normal person, and you take an aspirin and drink your share of water,” you added with a suggestive smirk.
He didn't seem convinced, neither were you, but he nodded silently and you turned to leave and get ready for work, sending him one last smile.
“It's all my fault,” he suddenly spoke, quiet and emotional, and it stopped you dead in your tracks.
“What did you say?” your brows furrowed, as you looked at him shocked.
He was facing you now, his sharp jaw clenched, lower lip drawn between his teeth.
“I said-,” he started again, his voice cracking, and he looked up, blinking rapidly to try and stop hot, angry tears from spilling. “It's all my fault. No wonder you don't want me when I'm just a poor excuse for a man. It's my fault you have to work your arse off. You're the one who keeps us above the water, because I don't bring home any money. I should have known that music would be no good for me, should have found a real job, like my father said. I have no right expecting you to keep maintaining me. You don't need a man who can't even provide you safety and financial stability. You deserve someone who'd be your support, not a burden. It would be better for you if-,”
You stopped him abruptly with a loud thump of your feet. You pointed a finger at him warningly.
“Watch it, before you say something you'll really regret later,” you huffed, anger bubbling under your skin at his words.
Your hand dropped and you sighed heavily before walking up to him and taking his face in your hands. You wiped tears, that were falling down his cheeks, with the pads of your thumbs and pressed a gentle kiss to his trembling lips.
“Listen to me very carefully now,” you said softly but firmly, your forehead pressing against his. “I don't care what your father says. I don't care what people say. I don't care for socially imposed norms, roles and expectations. I only care for a man I'm hopelessly and completely head over heels in love with. The most passionate and sometimes stubborn guy I've met, the perfectionist who doesn't know when to let go, who never gives up. The brightest mind and the kindest soul I have a luck of knowing. My astrophysicist with a guitar. My stargazing rockstar.” You smiled at him widely, tears swelling in your own eyes. You never could stand him putting himself down. He was so much more than he realized.
“You went to bed hungry last night. Again,” he stated out of nowhere, and there was pain and guilt in his eyes as he looked down at you. “I could here and feel your stomach growling. Can't imagine bigger failure than that.”
“I don't care for money, Brian. We both knew it was gonna be hard. But this is what we wanted. I don't want you to even think about quitting, neither on music, nor on me, you hear me? You're so incredibly talented, you're meant to do bigger things, I'm sure of that. And I'm going to stand by your side till the end, or at least until you want me to, because I love you. Even if I have to work extra hours to get by, it doesn't change a thing. It doesn't change the way I feel about you. Because I know that the fate will turn one day. And even if it doesn't, screw it, we are happy with what we have. We're happy together.”
You were both crying at this point. Brian pulled you into the tightest hug, sneaking his long arms around your waist, and buried his face in the crook of your neck.
“I love you too. So much,” he murmured into your skin. “I'm sorry.”
“Don't be. You have nothing to be sorry about.” You wrapped your hands around his shoulders and held him as close as you could.
The sound of telephone ringing interrupted that intimate moment. Brian pulled away, wiping off the wetness from his cheeks. He cleared his throat before he answerd the call.
You could hear Roger yelling from across the room and you laughed out loud through your tears.
“Rog, slow down! I have no idea what you saying!” Brian said, his voice still hoarse.
“You didn't listen yet? Mate, turn on the bloody radio!”
You made out that much from his falsetto screams and quickly move to switch on the receiver. The loud wail of guitar and Freddie's mean vocal filled the small kitchen as the Seven Seas of Rhye flowed through the speakers.
“You hear that?! This is us! They play as on a fucking radio!” Roger kept yelling at the other side of line, but Brian didn't listen to him anymore. He turned to look at you, a gigantic smile painted on his face. You answer with the same, your heart swelling at thought of your man and his friends finally getting the recognition they deserved. Then your eyes fell to the clock and you cursed under your breath. You were going to be so late to work. But who cared at the moment like that.
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Might continue this, will end in gratuitous and unnecessary smut.
They always told Y/N that music would get her no where. Family, even friends, had said that it was a dead end career. Too competitive of an industry - especially for a woman.
Y/N considered this, chuckling to herself. They said she'd never make it, and yet here she was, in a recording studio, advising the one and only Queen on their next single.
Recording with the band certainly had it's perks. Unfortunately, those perks came with their share of pitfalls. The main one being the guitarists poor attitude towards her involvement in their music.
Y/N had expected Roger to have been the primadonna of the group, having heard all the rumours about his erratic behaviours and unpredictable mood swings. But next to Brian, the drummer seemed almost pristine.
Brian couldn't understand what it was about Y/N that got so deep under his skin. Perhaps it was the way she so quickly shut down ideas she didn't like, never giving them a chance. Or maybe it was the way her voice sometimes dripped with a sarcasm only rivaled by Deacy himself. Or maybe it was the way she played that guitar, her slight fingers dancing up and down the neck showing him riffs and solos she had composed for him, none of which he could play quite the same way. Or maybe it was how ridiculous she looked attempting to play his red special. She had considerably smaller hands than him, and so could not grasp the thick neck of the instrument while fingering the appropriate chords.
Whatever it was, it got to him, and made him short in a way that was extremely out if character for the curly haired guitarist.
Requested by anon, sorry it took so long! I hope you like it xx
Details: Brian couldn’t get you out of his head, and just when things seemed to be okay, there you were.
Things simply weren't the same and the both of you knew it. And though that much was true, you were the one to bring it up - you were the one to put the foot down and close the book.
It might have been weeks, maybe even months since Brian had seen you last, but days seemed to have blended into one another since you’d left. The apartment (which you’d insisted he kept) was a dark, quiet place that Brian only wanted to flee from. Whenever he found a piece of clothing or book that you'd left behind, the anger within him would stir and bubble violently. Had it been so wrong of him to pretend obliviousness to the fact that things simply weren't working out back then? Brian thought - no, he believed he could make things right and bring the both of you back to how you had been when you’d first met. But Brian simply wasn't capable of everything.
Like any other day off, Brian found himself absent-mindedly walking the streets of Seoul, head down, hands in pockets. He had no plans, he had no responsibilities for the day, and though he’d usually opt for staying in the studio nevertheless, he decided a little fresh air could’t hurt him. The bustling crowds around him moved hastily, but Brian felt as if he were moving in slow motion. And so were you.
There were you, not a thing about you had changed from what he could see. You were sitting outside a cafe the both of you would go to regularly on Brian’s days off and the memory almost made him smile. Almost. He felt as if the air around him had vanished, like he simply couldn’t breathe. He wanted to laugh at himself for letting you have such an effect on him even after all this time. He averted his gaze in hopes that you too, would look away. But you didn’t.
“Brian!”
Brian really regretted not going to the studio. He sighed, putting on a smile that he knew you’d see through - or at least he hoped you would. It was strange to Brian. He’d longed to see you for so long, but now, he wanted to get away as quick as possible. Maybe it was the circumstances of the whole situation. It was out in the open, he was tired and grumpy, and you looked beautiful as you always had.
You smiled up at him in greeting, urging him to sit down and join you. He wanted refuse, he wanted to tell you that there was a voice inside his head telling him to leave. But I’d be damned if I do ya, damned if I don’t.
“I haven't seen you in a while, how have you been?” You asked. Brian wanted to tell you the absolute, honest truth. He wanted to tell you of the endless nights he’d laid awake thinking of what could have been. But it hurt to tell the truth, it hurt so damn much.
“Uh, I’ve been alright. Y’know, just working on the next album and things like that.” He shrugged. The words leaving the tip of his tongue burned the muscle. His throat felt constricted. “How have you been?” In reality, Brian didn’t want to know how you’d been since you left. From what he could see, it was obvious you were quite content with the way things had turned out - much to his own dismay. But it was the right thing to do.
“Great, actually. I got a promotion at work, did a bit of travelling and things like that - I managed to get a new place too!” A new place. You could have easily avoided the trouble of finding a new one if you’d just stayed with Brian. If you’d simply just stayed together. Brian felt uncomfortable, so unbelievably so that his expression changed. And you noticed it. “Hey,” You called out softly like you used to whenever Brian was sad. But this time Brian wasn’t sad, no, he was devastated, “Are you okay?”
Perhaps it was wrong for those three simple words to hit so hard, but it seemed to take its toll on Brian’s aching heart. His jaw clenched tightly in effort to keep his emotions at bay and he looked up at you.
“How was I supposed to know you were over me? I thought if we just stuck it out for just a little while longer, we’d get through it together. But now we’re… We’re…” It wasn't that he couldn’t find the words, Brian just didn’t want to say them. He didn’t want to admit aloud that the beautiful thing that had been built between yourself and him had been torn down and replaced with a bleak, menacing wall. And it was just so, so high up.
Just as he was about to speak up once more, your phone lit up with a text notification, and from where Brian sat he could see it clearly.
From: handsome <3
hey, i’ll pick you up at 6, does that sound good?
Brian honestly hadn’t thought this encounter could get much worse. But once again, he was wrong. Oh, so wrong. His eyes met yours and he was surprised to see the sympathy in your eyes. He hated that.
“I think I should go.” He announced, quickly getting to his feet. He turned on his heel, only to look back at you. “It was nice seeing you, Y/N.” He smiled. And this time it was a genuine one.
