#he would still hum or sing along if it came on the radio no matter what | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theknightmarket · 1 year

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um i really wanna see a fic where damian takes care and looks after da. idk maybe da is sick but came to work anyways. maybe they were overwoking themself and eventually collapse. maybe they get injured somehow. just our dear mayor being concerned for them and looking after them

"You're too stubborn to die."

In which Damien helps the DA in a compromised state.

TW: angst, injury, blood

Pages: 15 - Words: 6,000

[Requests: OPEN]

A regular Sunday for the mayor of Los Angeles was, surprisingly, incredibly similar to that of any other thirty-year-old working man. It was one of Damien’s only days off in the month, and he treasured them like the holy grail; if his job was to hold endless amounts of paperwork, incessant meetings with countless people, and public speeches to bore the masses and himself, then his day off would be filled with as many relaxing activities as possible.

Damien wandered around the apartment, a watering can in one hand and his cane in the other. The doctor had long since said that he didn’t need it anymore, and that his insistence that he did was only psychosomatic, but it was more than that. To him, it was a grounding tool. If things got rough, and, in his profession, it was more of a when, he could grip tightly onto the stick and find comfort in the stability of it. Metal is not an easy material to break, and he much preferred it to messing with his jacket’s edges or cuffs. That meant, no matter how many of his veins popped through paled skin, it would always be there for him.

Now, though, he was content. The sun was shining, the windows let a blissful breeze flow through, and there was the distant hum of the radio from the kitchen. It couldn’t be more perfect. Sundays were always this way, like entering another dimension where famine had been decimated, all wars ended with the flick of a pen, greed, pride, envy wiped off the map. Even the air he breathed felt lighter.

There was a bounce in Damien’s step as he moved around, singing quietly along to the tune and thinking about his next projects. Getting all of the plants watered was number seven on his checklist – and, yes, it was in his back pocket while he went through the motions – but with only nine left to go, he thought he could get some recreation in. Maybe pick up a new book, you were raving on about ‘The Mysterious Rider’ yesterday, or he could swing by Celine’s place. Though, that place always did give him the creeps…

And you were going to be back in an hour.

The memory still made him smile, how could it not? He had been so excited but so nervous to ask you on a date, he’d double-checked and triple-checked and one more check for good measure. Hell, he’d planned the day out to a T, given that you’d even say yes. But Celine had convinced him you would, so he prepared flowers, reservations, outfits, all so that nothing could go wrong.

Then everything went wrong. He didn’t like focusing on that aspect of the story, it only made him wonder how he ever got you to go out with him again, but it all ended in a pretty fun evening, if he did say so himself. You’d assured him that it wasn’t all for naught, and that you’d had a good time, going so far as to ask if he was free a couple nights after. That one night turned into three nights, and then nights turned into days, and then, after a good few months, you’d gone right ahead and moved in together.

This was your apartment, too, it was where you came back to every evening with a tired smile and ready to have dinner together – and this night was to be no different.

Or Damien thought, until that hour passed, and he remained the only person in the room. But that was fine! He could hold out, and you probably only got caught in traffic or something. It just gave him time to get started on that book. It was absolutely nothing to worry about.

After taking it gently from the shelf, he settled onto the couch, a pillow behind his head and comfortable in evening clothes. The first sentence crossed his eyes, and he took in all the information he could as he read through the first chapter. It left him with questions, but that was fine, because you still weren’t back. Another half hour passed, and when he looked back up from the pages, he noticed that he had unconsciously shifted to be angled towards the front door. He tried to tell himself that everything was alright, he didn’t have to worry, work was probably just getting the best of you. Lord knows he wasn’t one to talk.

So, Damien kept reading, and when his eyes started to strain and holding up the book was too large of a chore, he went and made a cup of coffee. This was the first time you’d been late home, and what kind of partner would he be if he was asleep when you, surely, came back.

Minutes later, he was sipping idly at the kitchen island. The window across from him showed shimmers of orange and red, the cityscape of Los Angeles almost teasing him where he stood. You were out there somewhere, and he felt lousy not knowing where that was.

He took another sip.

The wall-mounted clock ticked by. Seconds felt like hours, and every one that dropped into the bucket pushed him closer to the edge. His jacket swayed on the hook, his shoes just below them. It would be so easy to get a cab over to your building and check how you’re getting on – you’d be hunched over your desk, taking a call from precinct cops who couldn’t do their jobs right, and then you’d see him, and you’d apologize for not getting back. He’d be fine with it, of course, and he’d end up helping you in the case that had its claws in you.

Oh, but he knew that he couldn’t do that. His heart thudded in his chest, his hands shook, but he respected your boundaries. It’d only been a month since you moved in, after all, and he didn’t want to overstep anything that quickly. Heaving a not-so-relaxing sigh, he vowed that he would stay right there in the apartment until you got back, no matter how long it took you.

By the third hour, he was starting to reconsider that.

The soles of his shoes were burned into the wooden flooring, his pacing surely annoying the neighbors below, but he could care less. Show him that you were alive and well, and he’d stop, but he had yet to see any clue as to your wellbeing, so they’d have to deal with it. He hated this, he hated this so much. Pointless waiting and irreverent, troublesome thoughts. They had no use to him, but he didn’t know how to get rid of them. They burrowed into his mind like an infestation of roaches or disease.

Tick, tock, tick, tock. He was going to throw that clock out of the window if he didn’t get ahold of himself. But what else was there to do? He’d completed all of his chores, even the ones he promised to leave for the next day, and he found himself waiting like a puppy at the front door. His eyes wavered over it, hoping for it to open just an inch to show he wasn’t stuck in purgatory.

Whatever higher power there was seemed to take pity on Damien, because not two seconds later, the creak of old wood broke the ticking of the clock. He almost sprung to his feet and launched himself at you when you entered, but he held himself back, if not for decorum, then for the sight of you. You were the most gorgeous person he had ever laid eyes upon, but he was not one to lie to himself; right now, you looked terrible. Your skin tone had lightened so much that you appeared ill, and your chest was rising quicker than before. Were you sick or had working three hours after your shift finally got to you? Damien didn’t know, and he didn’t care. Taking care of these symptoms was his top priority.

“Darling?” he called out, still restraining himself from rushing to your side.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you lugged yourself towards the bedroom, completely dismissing hunger. You were far too tired to think about that, the bed, comfy cushions, and a warm blanket calling to you.

Damien caught your arm before you could get too far, though, with a concerned grimace playing on his lips. “Are you alright?”

He sounded worried, and that was the last thing you wanted – never mind the fact that it was well-warranted – so you heaved a tiny smile and muttered, “I’m fine, love, just tired.”

He still wasn’t satisfied, that was obvious, but you weren’t paying attention to that. A kiss on his forehead from you, a noise of discontentment from him, and you were on your way to the bedroom, trying to focus on your feet as to not trip over warping wood. Everything was slowly fading away at the edges of your vision, consumed by blackness and turning the rest fuzzy.

You knew exactly why this was happening, you knew it was bad, but no way in hell would you let Damien know. You loved him more than anything on the earth, but he was bound to worry about you more than necessary. You’d be fine, you silently promised him. You had to be.

Nearly six hours later, the moon was high in the sky, casting a shimmer of gray dust across the landscape. Light reflected off of windows, night walkers stumbled over rocks, and dogs howled in the alleyways. Patters of rain caressed against the city, warning of a dreary but calm morning.

Even with that promise, Damien couldn’t sleep. He had work in the morning, his day off having ended at the stroke of midnight, and yet the thought of leaving you in the apartment was horrifying. You had knocked out the second your head hit the pillow, leaving him to his thoughts, and they centered around just one thing: were you alright? He couldn’t believe you were just tired, since you’d woken up bright and early the morning before. He was almost insulted you thought he’d fall for that, but he was too worried to mind.

He dragged a hand through his hair. It tickled at the nape of his neck, though he hardly cared. What if something was wrong? Really wrong? His heart thrummed against his ribcage, like if it hit hard enough, you’d wake up and tell him what was wrong. But his ribs didn’t crack, and you didn’t wake up, and Damien was left sitting in the armchair by the window with tired eyes. This wasn’t doing any good, and the sun was due to rise in a few hours; he figured he might as well make you both some breakfast.

Damien shuffled out of the bedroom, a dark robe swaying across the floor and his cane stepping beside him. He held it tight while he made his way to the kitchen, where he noticed blurry chatter. He started confused, which quickly morphed into fear, and then his cheeks brightened in silent embarrassment. What he had thought was a robber was just the radio he had forgotten to shut off. He was glad you weren’t awake to see him creep around the corner, stick raised to thwack however was in there.

He turned the volume down and went to work. After so many times missing breakfast, Damien wasn’t sure what to make, so he decided on the only thing he knew how to decently cook – waffles, and even then, there was a chance they would come out burnt.

The crack of eggs and dust of flour was comforting in a way to him that only a childhood meal could be. In the earliest hours of the day, there would be no consequence to adding a gram more sugar than needed or cooking them for a second too long. The waffle iron steamed and sizzed in front of him once the batter was poured on, almost making him laugh. He let himself smile for the first time that day, the sense of warmth and lightness filling him.

“It has come to our attention that – last night, at the Dimmock Public Health Centre – the district attorney of Los Angeles was shot in an attempted assassination—”

Damien’s smile collapsed.

“—The D.A was rushed back to a car that was seen heading away from the scene, while police were contacted to find the assassin. We have not heard back from our sources about their wellbeing, but we have been assured that they are no longer in danger. Despite this, there has been speculation as to their current location and the reaction of federal agents—”

His own heartbeat cut off the radio, pounding against his head like an overzealous drummer. The smell of burnt food wafted into his nose, his vision toppled over the edge, his hands sweat, his feet moved before his mind could catch up. You weren’t ill, you weren’t overworked, you were shot. And he didn’t realize, and you didn’t tell him, and you weren’t waking up.

You weren’t waking up.

His cane slammed against the footboard, but you didn’t stir, not even a huff. He would have begged for you to groan or berate him or say anything, but you didn’t. You stayed quiet, and Damien’s breathing grew louder.

He tossed himself to your side, strew the bedsheets across the floor and saw, red as a rose, blood. It seeped into the fabric, like bacteria overcoming a wound. God, your wound. Normally, he would ask your permission to lift your shirt, but this was urgent, so he disregarded the crimson staining his hands and pulled the hem up.

Tears flooded his eyes as fear flooded his heart. A lazy medical patch had been slapped onto the entry hole, half of it having peeled off already and the other bled through. Damien had never trusted the medical professionals present during speeches, and this only deepened his distaste for them – but he’d deal with them later. For now, he had to wake you up.

First, he whispered shakily, “Come on, wake up, dear.”

No response. He tried again.

“Dear, please.”

No response.

“C’mon, you have to wake up, please.”

No response—

A cough.

You were alive, you were panicked, but you were alive. Eyes shot open and limbs rushing to get you out of bed, but you were stopped short by your own hiss. It felt like you had been shot again, more tissue and muscle ripped through with no regard for the nerves there – it made you think the bullet had been laced with something, hellfire, poison, but no. Dismally, you remembered the paramedics removing the metal as quick as they could, but speed was favored over kindness. The hole pricked again in response.

Coming down from the small adrenaline high, your eyes focused back in on Damien, who kneeled in front of you. He looked worse for wear, and you wondered if he had been injured, too. This wasn’t true, of course, and the drop of his shoulders gave you some relief, though the slight wet patches dripping onto his cheeks had you furrowing your brows.

“A-are you okay?” you mumbled, tentatively grasping his hand.

A weak chuckle tumbled out of him, fading like the whizz of a stone dropped down a cavern. He squeezed your hand tighter, remaining wary of your state, and asked, “Are you?”

Your attempt to nod was interrupted by a rack of coughs shaking your very body. They didn’t stop, not even when pain splintered away from your wound and all breath vacated your lungs. You weren’t fine, that much was obvious, but, when you’d calmed down from the fit, you settled on staying quiet.

Damien had been your friend for the majority of your life, but, after a year at the very most, it was obvious how much he worried. If you told him there was a crack in the pavement, he’d cross the street to avoid tripping – and if you told him that you were at risk of passing out from pain, you’d be suffocated from his fear. He was such a mother hen; the thought nearly made you laugh but you stopped yourself before you could be overwhelmed by coughs again.

The man sighed at your silence. Unbeknownst to you, not giving him an answer was making him more scared as the seconds ticked by. He pushed away stray hairs that had fallen into your face, trying to see the truth in your eyes. Comforting, obviously masking injury, you stared right back.

“We have to get you to the hospital.”

If it were Damien in your place, you’d agree in a heartbeat, but you were the one lying in bed, blood sticking clothes to your side. Your partner, however, was the mayor of Los Angeles, they could barely go a day without him. You didn’t want to risk taking up his precious time, when some disaster could strike that he’d have to report on. In your mind, it made the most sense for you to go about your daily lives and for you to just deal with it throughout the day. The shot wasn’t that bad, and you’d seen bills for a paper cut before.

Considering this, you found it in yourself to clear your throat and reply, “No, we don’t, I’ll be fine.”

“We have to get your wound checked out, I mean,” he gestured vaguely to the stained area, “those medics were clearly frauds- they didn’t even dress it right, and it’s coming off already, and you’re bleeding—”

You pulled his hands closer to you, fingers curling around his own in a silent reminder to calm down. His volume was steadily rising, which meant his heart rate was, too, and you knew how he got when he was overwhelmed. These past hours had already put more strain on him than you had wanted.

“I’ll be fine,” you repeated, offering a smile. He responded in kind, but his was more placating than agreeable, “if it was anything to worry about, I’d be in the hospital, now, wouldn’t I?”

Damien mulled this over in his mind. On one hand, your logic was sound, as always, and arguing with you had long since proved a fruitless venture. On the other, he didn’t like the thought of leaving you to your devices, as if you’d never been injured in the first place. What if something happened to you and you didn’t notice? With nothing else to do, he decided on a compromise.

“Okay,” he conceded, and, for a second, you thought yourself safe – you might have even gotten down to the offices for some paperwork – but Damien’s hands darted to the discarded sheets and re-tucked them around you.

Damien was going to look after you himself.

He was scarily efficient in how he moved around the room, gathering spare pillows, blankets, anything that would make you feel more comfortable in the bed. By the end of his little escapade, you looked more like a bird in a nest than a human. You couldn’t deny how proud he looked, though, and it would be easy to let your eyelids slip down for a few more minutes…

But you snapped to your senses and summonsed your will to talk. “Don’t you have to go into work today?”

He paused, back turned to you, at his position drawing the blinds. “…Not necessarily.”

“Damien,” you drawled.

The hairs on the nape of his neck pricked up and his face felt the power of a furnace. “Well,” spinning around, he did poorly at hiding his blush, “technically, yes, I do – but the office can handle work without me, just for today.” He slid into place beside you, resting a hand onto your shoulder. “You are more important.”

Normally, you’d jump at the opportunity to spend more time with your partner. Your schedules weren’t exactly kind in allowing you to be together, and moments with him were treasured more than those without. However, at this second, your eyebrows furrowed, and your lips pouted. Most of the time, you’d be forced to get rest, confined to bed while Damien ran errands to ease your weary soul. That was the last thing you wanted, and the only way to convince him to hold back would be to get him out of the apartment entirely. Besides, this wasn’t as big a deal as he was making it out to be, you were sure.

As if he could sense your resistance, Damien whispered, “I still have three hours until I go. I’ll take care of you, and then we’ll assess the situation.”

Sneaky. Damien might have been reserved and shy in public, but you have seen you’ve seen your fair share of his mischievous, sly side. Despite hardly ever getting practice, he was worryingly good at getting what he wanted via cunning means. You both respected and feared that aspect of him.

He left a kiss on your forehead, now, and rose from the bed to restart his preparations. If he had the time, he would’ve crafted some kind of checklist, but getting you a glass of water and medical equipment was top priority. That, and salvaging what he could from those burning waffles.

When he was back at your side again, your eyes having slipped closed once or twice, skin being tugged away from muscle caught your attention. The patch had been badly applied, but adhesive remained against the wound that meddled with blood slowly spurting out of the cracks. Divots sprang red and raised flesh curled around the hole like a mountain range. It made Damien’s stomach squirm and flip, but he focused his expression to clean the area.

As you looked down at the man, ruffled dark hair a mess from stressing and still in his robe, your heart swelled with love. He was your partner, and it was crazy to think you were his. Even after four months, everything felt like a haze, a dream you were scared to wake up from, because you knew nothing would come close to this. Carefully, you shifted your arm to caress Damien’s cheek.

He glanced back up at you quizzically, a look you only returned with a smile. Shaking his head, he returned to his work slightly more comforted than he was before.

Nearly half an hour passed in this fashion; Damien patted off the dried blood, replaced that medical path with a bandage around your waist, and managed to get your mind off of the wound with excerpts from ‘The Mysterious Rider’. You appreciated everything he was doing, down to the way he’d pause when he noticed your eyes drooping. Most of the time, you would shake yourself awake again with a yawn, but there were the odd times when you felt yourself drift off for seconds at a time. These bouts of fatigue never lasted long, and, while you were thankful for the brief rest, the expression on Damien’s face had you staying awake longer.

Every time the curtains closed even slightly, a mix of emotions spurred in him, melting over his eyes, and giving you a first-row seat to his thoughts. Half of him was glad to see you comfortable enough in this nest, it liked seeing you warm and sappy – but the other half was always scared that it might have been the last time you’d close your eyes, as if he hadn’t done a good enough job to keep you alive, and it would be all his fault that you… slipped. But that all wiped away when they opened again, revealing your familiar and welcoming irises. Full of life.

Even though you both knew how he felt, he prefaced the start of the next chapter with, “You can fall asleep, you know.”

You couldn’t deny the fact that you were tired – getting shot would do that to you – but worrying Damien any more than he already was, was at the bottom of your bucket list. So, you lightly shook your head and replied, “Nope, I’m so awake, I could—”

You were, helpfully, cut off by a yawn. Damien looked at you from his armchair, unimpressed, but you continued, nevertheless, “—I could finish a case. Maybe go back to work, in fact.”

At this, he became alert, the sharp spike of fear prodding him in the side. “No, not yet.”

“Damien,” you pleaded.

“I said ‘no’.” As he stood, his cane felt like an earthquake against the wooden flooring. Inwardly, you sighed; you’ve never liked getting into arguments with him, mostly because he was normally the one in the right, but it was unavoidable. Damien had work in two hours, and getting there was a quarter of that, and, before that, there was changing into his uniform. He was neglecting doing any of these to take care of you, and you found it hard not voicing your opinion about that.

“Look,” you started, sitting up straighter in the bed, “how about we do a test run?”

Damien stopped himself from getting through the doorway to listen to what you had to say. Still, he was thinking through getting a cold rag in case of a fever, but most of his attention was directed towards your proposition.

You continued, tentatively, “You go on a walk, alright?” Disagreement stirred inside him the second ‘go’ came out of your mouth, which you could see and began battling immediately, “And we’ll see how I get on alone.”

He thought over the scenario, practically moving his head to the direction of his thoughts, until he rushed to your side and kneeled down. Your hand was soon encapsulated in his fingers, warm and worried. “What if something goes wrong?”

“It won’t,” you promised, leaning forward to peck at his lips. Really, you couldn’t be sure it would be alright, but it was worth trying just to see the blissful and hope-ridden look on Damien’s face. “It’s not like I’m going to die if you’re away for two seconds, love.”

With one more sigh and a slightly longer kiss for good luck, he began to get ready for a walk outside.

Five minutes in, Damien was spiraling.

His tolerance for being away from you had plummeted since the day before, and the glum of the streets was getting to him. It was indeed raining, turning his polished boots gritty from dust swept through the pathways, and it was difficult to discern what were droplets from the sky or from his skin. Despite the cold brushing against him, the worry he was experiencing was sending him into overdrive. He couldn’t tell if he was warm or cool if he was still walking or if he had made it past the first few steps to your apartment. It felt like he was having withdrawals, but there was no way he’d go back. Not only would he still be scared for you, but the disappointment you’d feel seeing him was something he’d do anything to avoid.

So, he took in a deep breath and tried to steady his beating heart. It was horrible, but he put himself through it. For you. He hoped you’d be proud, but he also hoped you’d be asleep when he returned.

The day was… nice, he supposed. Not many people were out this early, a few older gentlemen he passed with a wave, but the most popular of the species were stray dogs. One in particular he saw often when he was heading to or from work. The street had a nickname for the poor thing, and they’d elected to keep it there with spare scraps from the table or chew toys out of old pig’s ears. Benjie, if he remembered correctly, a golden lab that had been around for the last three years.

Fondly, Damien thought back on when you and the dog first interacted. He knew you loved pets, especially the over-active, wholesome ones. You’d requested him stay with you as soon as you saw him, even wagered you’d get him groomed and trained into a proper house dog. He rolled his eyes, you patted on his arm and vowed that, one day, he’d be the most pampered pup in all of Los Angeles.

But that had yet to come to fruition. Benjie was still out on the street, taking leftovers of roast dinners and maintaining a rough coat. Maybe, when this whole ideal was over, Damien would bring him home.

It was with that thought that a whole new cavalcade of bad ideas flooded his mind. They stopped him dead in his tracks, and – following that them – paled him beyond recognition. He flopped against a brick house, steadied his cane in the ridges of cobblestone and thought back on the very reason why you were in this position to begin with.

There was an attempted assassination. Someone had attempted to assassinate you. It hadn’t settled with him, until now, that someone powerful had hired a killer to end your life. And they had nearly succeeded, and you had nearly died, and—

And if they weren’t able to do it the first time, who was to say they wouldn’t try again?

Damien’s vision blurred together, buildings crumbling together and horses in the distance clicking like the trigger of a gun. He had to get back home, to you. God knows what could’ve happened to you in the time he was gone. You’d said you’d be fine, sure, but you were suffering from massive amounts of blood loss, and he loved you, but you were never the most logical person in the first place.

His feet were moving regardless of thought or will to. His eyes were clouded with possibilities and his mind overtaken by sorrow. If you weren’t okay when he got back, it would be all his fault. Why did he have to be such an idiot? He should have stayed with you, and he didn’t, and now you were suffering the consequences of his stupid choices.

He stumbled across the stones, plucked his cane from holes and brushing off the coattails of early risers. They were confused, but he didn’t care; all that mattered was getting back to you as quick as possible. Tears pricked up in the corners of his eyes, those wide windows scanning the street for your front door, and when he came to it, he all but ripped it off its hinges in order to get in.

Going two steps at a time was too slow for him but falling back down the stairs would be of no use to anyone. Still, he pushed himself to get to your apartment at a record pace. One mantra echoed through his mind while he struggled to your front door. Please, be alright. It was wish, to you, to any higher power, to anything that could better the chances.

His heart plummeted in his chest when he saw you lying on the ground.

Damien’s eyes whirled around, inspecting, for a second, for any hint as to what happened. Your arms were flattened out in front of, appearing to have cushioned your fall, and the only blood visible was what had leaked through your bandage.

Nevertheless, he fell to his knees next you, tilted your head up and looked for any other sign of injury. Hope overcoming horror, you seemed okay. Passed out, but okay, so he took his time in carefully drawing a hand up and down your body. Your heartbeat was steady and fine, your skin was barren of unexpected blemishes, and your eyelids were just beginning to flutter open again.

“Damien…?”

The second that he heard your voice, Damien captured you in a tight hug. Of course, at a hiss of pain from you, he pulled back, but you were going nowhere. The strict shift in temperature from the outside had him in whiplash and waking up with your back against the floor was doing you no better. He buried his head in your neck, both to keep you as close as possible and hide the tears beginning to flow. Not entirely sure of what was happening, you pat his back with one hand and cradled his head with another.

You shushed him and pecked at where you could, in the midst of whispering, “Hey, it’s all okay. I told you I wouldn’t die.”

Damien sobbed.

You held him tighter, an embrace solid enough to assure him you were really and truly there.

Exhale shivering in the air, he mumbled against you, “N-no, you’re… oh, you’re too stubborn to die.”

You smiled, ignoring the situation and thanking you lucky stars that you’d landed such a loving man.

“I’m here, love, everything’s okay.” Another kiss, and he lifted his head up to stare at you. Despite you being the one to have been shot, have passed out cold on the ground, you were comforting him. How had he ever gotten such a kind soul? He didn’t know, but he knew he was grateful, and that he’d do anything to keep you.

Shakily, he muttered, “Come on.” He secured his arm underneath your shoulder and lifted you to stand, against the twitching of his cane. The weight of two people was forgiven when you were up fully, and he gently sat you down at the island while he gathered your shoes and coat. “We are getting you to the hospital,” he announced, and that was that.

Being the mayor of Los Angeles had some drawbacks; long working days, the eyes of the press, social obligations – but there were definitely some advantages, not least of all being able to order anything with impunity, whether that was a public car, table at a restaurant, or being to stay in the room while nurses flittered around your partner. At this point, leaving your side felt more hellish than he expected hell to be, and, though he hated abusing his power, he was not about to wait in the hallway for the next hour.

So, by your side Damien stayed. The nurses poked and prodded at you, uncaringly prescribing you unlabeled medication, and redoing the bandages. He wasn’t ashamed to say he relaxed when they left you along, finally. At least he understood when enough was enough – or, he thought so, because if he told you that, you’d probably regard him unimpressed.

He caught your hand – noticeably less pale than it was before – in his own, and cradled it against his chest, as if fearing you’d disappear when let go. But, with you safely inside a hospital and treated by professionals, he could finally calm down. His nerves had been going haywire ever since you’d been late to dinner, but they found no reason to not settle down under his skin.

“You know, I love you.”

Damien perked up before sending a confused glance your way. Why were you telling him now? Was there something that he didn’t know? Had you been shot, had someone tried to kill you again—

“I nearly died yesterday, and,” you laughed awkwardly, as if you were telling a crude joke, “I kept thinking, what if I never get to tell you again?”

Now, he was fully turned to you, and it was then that he saw you were started to cry. He’d never seen you look like this before, wet cheeks and red eyes. His eyebrows involuntarily bent, and he squeezed your hand tighter.

You continued on, “I don’t want you to forget how I feel, and I think that if I had to live without you, I—” You cut yourself off with a sob.

Without a second thought, Damien moved to sit next to you on the bed, bringing you into his chest and cradling you as you cried. He peppered some kisses along your ear, neck, anywhere that could comfort you. He thanked his reputation for getting you a private room, lest you have to deal with people looking in to see the mayor and the district attorney communicating affection.

“I love you, too,” he responded, tone having never been more sincere.

You stayed like that until the nurses came back in, singing praises of Damien’s handiwork and pointing out your conditions. You would have to stay for a while longer, and you didn’t miss the proud smirk on your partner’s face when they told you that you should’ve come in sooner. Still, you laughed, rolled your eyes, and kissed him on the cheek. That normally shut him up, and this time was no exception.

Sighing, he sat back in his own chair, hand still caressing yours. “Do you still want me to go back to work?” he teased.

You brought Damien’s hand to you face, planted a well-intentioned kiss on the upper part of his hand, and winked. “Never.”

He felt himself lucky for being in a hospital; he was sure he could have died from a heart attack right there and then.

[Thank you so much for requesting - I'm sorry this took so long, but I'm glad that I got it out in the end! Gotta say, when I saw that I was allowed to injure the DA, I was already scheming. It did suck that I couldn't put a heart-rate monitor joke in though, since they hadn't been invented yet, but eh, the trade off is that we get nervous Damien waiting for you to come home. Again, thanks for requesting]

#request #markiplier egos #markiplier #who killed markiplier #damien #Damien x reader #DA #reader #markiplier egos x reader #wkm #wkm x reader #1920s #fanfiction #district attorney

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therosebunpost · 1 year

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Bicycle Race

Inspired by Queen and my oblivious self as a child:

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve liked Queen. He’d hum along to the music while driving, or whenever it came along on the radio. While he never said he was an avid fan, he had a few songs on rotation on his mixtape. We Will Rock You, Somebody To Love, Don’t Stop Me Now, Bohemian Rhapsody. All great, fun tunes to pop into the player when he felt like it.

But there was one song that Steve always perked up at. Where his eyes got a little shiny, and he’d sing along to no matter who was in the car with him.

Eddie learned this about Steve pretty early on in their friendship. With the former king of Hawkins driving him around so much, he was bound to see this side of him.

“I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike~!”

Steve had a great voice, Eddie realized. Even if the music wasn’t exactly his scene, he could listen to Steve sing along for hours.

“I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride it where I like~!”

Bitting back a joke, the metalhead focused on Steve instead. On the way he danced in his seat, tapping in time with the music. At the way he knew the lyrics by heart, and the way he giggled through “I say hey man, Jaws was never my scene and I don't like Star Wars!” With a little “Fuck You Keith!” Added on with so much gusto, Eddie knew he had to ask about it one day.

The third time Bicycle Race came on when they were in the car together, Eddie was ready. Was it a dumb idea? Probably. Did he hope Steve would find it funny anyway? Absolutely.

They were sitting in front of a long red light. Steve was jamming along in his seat, singing away like usual. He had asked once, if Eddie minded, and the memory of how quick Eddie was to assuring that he didn’t was only just a bit embarrassing.

“Fuck you Keith~!”

Eddie hoped his smile wasn’t too noticeable, or the way he swallowed down a laugh. He needed to be ready.

“You say Rolls-“

“I say Royce!”

Steve stumbled, blinking over at Eddie, who was already looking at him. “You say God give me a choice!” Eddie added, internally praying to whatever cosmic being who would hear him that Steve didn’t get annoyed.

The smile Steve flashed him was beautiful.

“You say Lord-!“

“I say Christ-!”

“I don't believe in Peter Pan, Frankenstein or Superman, All I wanna do is-!”

A loud honk interrupted them. The two jumped, looking up at the green light and then at the man driving past them with a waving fist. Steve looked at Eddie, Eddie looked at Steve.

“Bicycle~?” Eddie sang, laughter making his shoulders shake. Steve wheezed, soon driving down the road. “Bicycle!”

“I want to ride it where I like~!”

The song soon ends, but the two were still giggling over it. “I didn’t know you liked Queen?” Steve ventured, turning a corner. “Like, it’s not very uh..metal?” He added, almost like he was trying not to offend him. “I don’t listen to him a lot, no, but Y’know that song kinda speaks to me.” Eddie jokes, looking over at Steve knowingly, only for him to look confused.

“It’s the first one you heard too?” He ventures, and Eddie weighs his next words carefully. “Nah, it’s uh…cuz I’m Bi. Or well, I usually go with Pan but there aren’t a lot of Pan songs.”

There’s a long silence, and Eddie can feel the ache in his stomach. In his heart. Had he misread Steve wrong? “I’m just joking man, I-“

Steve starts laughing. “Wait, that’s what that song is about? Oh my god…Well, that explains a few things about myself.” He turns to look over at Eddie, who slow blinks. “Wait you-“

“Yeah.” Steve admits, and he’s gazing at Eddie with a look that left the metalhead’s cheeks heating up. “I thought I just realized it this year, but I guess even back then some part of me knew.” He snorts, leaning back against the seat with a heavy sigh. “You’re the only other person I’ve said this to other than Robin.”

Eddie fiddles with one of his rings. “You’re the first person I’ve told directly, other than Wayne.”

The rest of the drive isn’t eventful, but as Steve drives Eddie up to his trailer, the two pause as another song floats from the speakers. Steve smiles, tawny brown eyes shifting over to look at Eddie. There was a hope in his eyes that lured Eddie back into the car. The sound of it clicking closed barely registered to the metalhead as Steve’s voice filled his mind.

“Can anybody find me somebody to love~?”

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foreveralwaysanauthor · 11 months

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Camp Wanamaker (Ch. 3/10)

July 1, 2023

Notes - I almost had this finished yesterday, but I ended up passing out at my desk and forcing myself to go to bed. Then, this morning, I woke up at 3:30 because our neighbors are morons and that only started the insanity for the day, so I ended up finishing this a lot later than I intended to.

Chapter 3 - Good Vibrations

Hazy rays of sunlight filtered in through the thin cotton curtains that just barely clung to their rod, the light catching the floating specs of dust that hung in the air. Birds chirped outside, their melodic songs filling the air alongside the gentle hum of crickets. The early morning air was crisp and cool as Sunday’s overnight rain brought cooler, less humid air to the summer camp. Soft voices from the other room filled the log cabin with laughter and conversation, but there was still one resident of the Lakeside Lodge who had yet to join the festivities. Pale blue eyes peeled open slowly, only to wince at the brightness of the light coming into the room and slide back shut. The bed creaked and groaned as Miles shifted onto his side and attempted to bury his face in his pillow. If the noise from the other room was anything to go by, he was sure everyone else was already awake and somewhat ready for the day, but that didn’t mean he had to be just yet.

Despite the fact that he hated mornings with a passion, Miles found them peaceful when he was allowed to wake up on his own time. On his days off, he would spend an hour or so letting himself adjust to the day if he was lucky. After a while, he would pry himself from the mattress and drag himself to the kitchen to make breakfast if his brothers hadn’t gotten around to it first. In more recent days, however, he’d been forced to wake up with the sun and be ready for the day to begin. He would rise with the rest of the counselors and get dressed, the hike to the mess hall further rousing him from any remaining slumber he had in him. Once he was awake, things weren’t so bad, and he could get into the rhythm of the day. It was just the mornings that dragged everything out of him.

The distant sound of a plane flying overhead reminded Miles of home - where elderly snowbirds spent their retirement money flying down south for the winter before returning to their northern homes for the warmer seasons. In a way, Miles supposed, he was now just like one of those elderly people -spending his summer in New Hampshire. No matter how hard he tried to ignore the sunlight beaming through his window, Miles was pulled further from sleep as the silence of the early morning was broken only by the sound of Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go. Though the song was fun, and he genuinely liked it when it came on over the radio while he drove the kids wherever they needed to go - listening to them scream-singing along to it in the backseat - Miles slowly lifted his head and glared at the window as though the song offended him before slumping back onto his mattress with a groan of complaint.

The night before, they had spent a few hours around the campfire after dinner, learning where they would be stationed for the entirety of the summer and putting in song requests for the morning wake-up call. He knew a few of the selections their group had made - Royce and Bentley offering a few of their favorite songs while Carrie and Vivien went back and forth, offering a bunch of songs ranging from ABBA and Madonna to Britney Spears and Avril Lavigne. He couldn’t recall anyone suggesting one of Wham!’s greatest hits around the fire, but whoever had put in for the bubbly, energetic, 80s pop song was going to feel his wrath. Who, in their right mind, would want to wake up to something so blindingly perky first thing in the morning? Not Miles, that was for sure.

Using his pillow to muffle the four-minute-long song, Miles tried to return to sleep but found it growing more and more impossible. A solid knock on his bedroom door halfway through the song made Miles let out a grumbling plea for just a few more minutes to relax in the comfort of his mattress, but the person on the other side of the door was insistent. Miles tried to roll onto his stomach and ignore the person as they pushed their way into the room, but that didn’t stop the human alarm clock from grabbing his blanket and pulling both it and Miles’ lumpy pillow away.

“Fuck off,” Miles grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah,” Butchy chuckled. “Up and at ‘em, sunshine. The first round of campers is going to be here after breakfast, so if you want any coffee before they get here, you need to get moving.”

Miles let out a groan as he rolled onto his back, staring up at Butchy with tired eyes, “Why do you have to be the voice of reason?”

“Would you rather I let Vivien come wake you every morning?” Butchy asked in response.

Miles remembered Vivien’s wake-up calls all too well. After housing the brunette for a few months, he had learned to at least try to wake up to his alarm. While Bentley and Royce would at least try to get him out of bed with words, Vivien resorted to violence, jumping onto his bed and beating him with a pillow until he was awake enough to fight back. To make matters worse, when he had to be up for work, she had refused to make coffee until he was awake and dressed. In a way, her tactics were effective, and he quickly learned to get up and ready before she came in swinging so that he would get his coffee before heading out the door, as the alternative would be much worse.

Quickly shaking his head, Miles pushed himself to sit up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he told Butchy, “I’d much prefer the voice of reason to her assault and battery.”

Butchy chuckled, tossing Miles’ pillow and blanket to the end of the bed, “Well, then, I suggest you get up before I release the hounds.”

As Miles pushed himself from his mattress with a yawn, he muttered, “I’m going, I’m going.”

The taller brunet left Miles to his devices and returned to the living room, where Vivien had perched herself on the back of the couch, watching the biker with an almost maniacal grin. Butchy shook his head as he passed her, patting her on the arm as he said, “Not today, piccola.”

“Aw,” Vivien sighed in defeat, allowing herself to slide back onto one of the couch cushions. “Why not?”

As Butchy rounded the couch and perched himself on one end, he said, “Because I threatened him with you, and it worked.”

“As it should,” Carrie chimed in with a knowing grin. “I’ve seen you attack him first thing in the morning.”

Placing a hand over her chest with an overdramatic gasp, Vivien turned to Carrie and said, “I do not attack people! I awaken them.”

“Ah yes, because digging your bony ass knees into someone and smacking them silly with a pillow first thing in the morning is how you should wake someone up,” Riven spoke sarcastically as he sat on the armrest.

“It is when it comes to Miles,” Bentley stated.

“He hardly ever gets out of bed on time unless he absolutely has to,” Royce agreed. “Having Viv wake him up was the only way he would be up early enough to make breakfast before getting out the door for work sometimes.”

“It was hilarious,” Bentley beamed. “Royce and I would watch her beat him up from the doorway.”

“Good to know you two like to see me get beaten up by a literal child,” Miles deadpanned as he made his way into the living area, running a hand through his hair as he closed his bedroom door.

“This ‘literal child’ has access to couch cushions,” Vivien said with a smirk.

Shoving Vivien’s head from behind, Miles said, “Try me, noodles-for-arms.”

“Bitch,” Vivien scoffed, taking one of the decorative pillows from the couch and smacking Miles in the chest with it.

“I know you are, but what am I?” Miles taunted in a childish voice.

Vivien snorted, “Now, who’s the child?”

Before Miles could come up with a snappy comeback, Mick spoke, “You both are; now let’s go before everyone takes the good food, and we’re stuck with nothing but granola bars and yogurt.”

Dropping her weapon onto the couch, Vivien joined Miles as everyone followed Mick to the door. Peering over at the biker with a grin, she muttered, “This isn’t over, dipshit.”

“Didn’t think it was, asshat,” Miles retorted with a smirk.

After breakfast, the group was divided and made to go to their stations to wait for the campers to arrive. The other campers would be assigned to a cabin upon arrival and be made to stay with those people for the duration of their time at camp. Bentley, on the other hand, was in a cabin with seven counselors who were assigned to different tasks, and, therefore, he had no set schedule. Although Bentley was still, technically, a camper, he was allowed to roam freely throughout the camp without being told off by the workers.

His brothers had been taken to different areas - Royce taking up the front desk at the library and Miles working with Vivien in the music hall - so Bentley was left roaming around until the camp was flooded with kids of all ages. He had enjoyed spending the last week being treated as the only camper, but with everyone else piling into the camp and filling all of the empty spaces, he was minutely worried that he’d be forgotten in the fray. Granted, as he drifted from place to place, he was sure certain people would make space for him if they could.

Royce’s spot in the library would be fairly easy for the curly-haired boy as he loved books to no end, and while Bentley knew he could spend as much time as he wanted there, he wasn’t overly fond of how quiet it normally was. On the opposite side of the camp, the music hall was practically a free-for-all unless it was during lesson hours - Vivien offered drum training while Miles taught people to play guitar, and others offered different string, woodwind, or brass lessons. The fitness center had only so many places for people to work out, but Bentley knew Butchy wouldn’t care if he just sat around at the desk for a while. Carrie and Riven were working in the playhouse together, and while Bentley wanted to talk to Riven more and fill him in on how things worked between their worlds, he knew it would be nearly impossible as they worked on helping others with their acting, singing, or dancing. He could spend all day with Mick if he wanted to, as she was filling two roles at once. Flitting between archery and lifeguarding was no easy feat, but she was determined to manage both until the end of the week when someone else would be able to cover her position on the lifeguard chair.

As Bentley perched himself on the porch that wrapped around the main office, he wondered just how long it would be before everyone began arriving. According to the long talk they’d had to sit through after breakfast, it would be just after lunch, but Bentley wasn’t even sure what time it was - nor did he have any desire to pull his phone out of his back pocket and find out. Keeping track of the time was like watching grass grow - tedious, pointless, and boring. All he knew was that the sky was beginning to grow cloudy as the forecasted rain showers drifted closer to the small town, and the closer they got, the more time had passed.

Bentley sucked in a sharp breath as something cold pressed into the side of his neck. Jumping, he whirled around only to find the mess hall’s resident vacuum cleaner, Ding, standing behind him with his tongue flopping lazily out of his mouth and his tail wagging happily. Relaxing back in his seat, Bentley chuckled softly and raised a hand to the large dog’s fur, smiling to himself as the dog ducked under his hand and leaned into the scratches Bentley gave him. Ding sat beside Bentley, leaning up to lick Bentley’s cheek as the boy scratched just under his collar.

Chuckling, Bentley admitted, “You scared the crap out of me, Ding; I hope you know that.”

“He has a habit of doing that,” a voice claimed not far away.

Looking up from the dog’s colorful fur to where George stood with a smile and a pair of cups filled with a mysterious green liquid, Bentley smiled and greeted the man as he sat on the other side of the massive dog, “Hey, Chief.” The man smiled and held out a cup of green juice with something floating in it. Upon further inspection, it was a plastic beetle. Raising an eyebrow as he hesitantly accepted the cup, Bentley asked, “What is this?”

“Bug juice,” George replied. “It’s a mixture of Sprite, lemon-lime Kool-Aid, and lime sherbet. It’s something a lot of campers fight over here as we usually only have it a few times every week, and once it’s gone, there’s no making anymore.”

Bentley took a sip of his drink and hummed; he could see why everyone liked it so much. Nudging Ding’s nose away from the cup, he turned his attention to the camp’s director and asked, “What did you mean when you said Ding has a habit of scaring people?”

George chuckled, “Despite being the size of a small horse and stumbling around camp like an idiot, Ding’s got a way of sneaking up on people when he wants attention.”

“How did he learn to do that?” Bentley asked.

“Hell if I know,” George chuckled before taking a sip of his drink. “My guess would be either my wife or Hayley since the little menace is always nipping at their heels.”

Hayley was Vivien’s birth mother; Bentley knew that much. It seemed as though they were close, and if Vivien’s pictures were anything to go by, they looked a lot alike. “Hayley,” Bentley began, “she’s your daughter, right?”

George nodded, “She’s the younger of the twins, and Ding’s always adored her more than anything.”

“Is that why he likes to sit with Viv at meals?” Bentley wondered.

“It’s one of the reasons,” George agreed. “She gives him an endless supply of food to keep him happy, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he spent the rest of the summer bouncing back and forth between her and Hayley when she gets here.”

Bentley nodded thoughtfully. That’s right, Hayley was supposed to be coming to camp at the end of the week. Saturday was the first of July, and the only reason he remembered that Vivien’s biological mother was coming that day was that Vivien had put it on the calendar in their cabin in bright red marker, circled it a few times, and drew stars around it for good measure. Thankfully, Saturday was when the campers who were only there for one or two weeks would leave, allowing them a weekend mostly to themselves. Maybe he would get the chance to know Vivien’s birth mother during those little breaks between weeks.

“What’s Hayley like?” Bentley asked.

“She’s a lot like Vivien, actually,” George mused. “Adventurous, intelligent, full of snappy comebacks and witty remarks. She was a bit more rebellious in her teenage years, however.”

“How so?”

George let out a laugh, “Let’s just say that Vivien is tame compared to Hayley.”

Bentley smirked, “Now I really want to know!”

With a glimmer of something in his eyes, George opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by his wife as she approached, “Don’t go telling the boy about how Hayley stole your motorcycle and rode up to Maine just for a concert.”

“I wasn’t,” George chuckled, raising his empty hand in surrender and smiling at his wife’s grin. “I was going to tell him about the time she smoked some of my weed and began arguing with your parrot.”

Shaking her head, Dawn turned to Bentley with a smile, “All in all, Hayley gave us a run for our money until she got herself a job at that wire company, but we gained enough stories of her escapades over the years to write a novel about.”

Bentley chuckled, “It’s no wonder she and Vivien get along so well.”

George hummed, “As I said, Vivien is tamer compared to Hayley, but she still thrives on adventure all the same.”

Sipping at his cup of bug juice, Bentley thought about just how much fun this summer could be once the woman arrived at camp. Maybe she would bring an extra sense of chaos to the camp and help keep things lively and adventurous. If she was anything like she was as a teenager, she would definitely keep people on the edge of their seats. He could only imagine what it would be like having two Viviens at camp. Vivien used the line between adventure and potential time behind bars for breaking and entering as a jump rope, and while he was sure her biological mother had calmed her reckless side at least a little over the years, Bentley hoped she was still just as adventurous as she had been in her younger days. Smiling to himself, Bentley returned to scratching the dog beside him as he realized he would only have to wait another five days to see exactly what camp would be like with both Vivien and her aunt running around.

Tuesday was the first full day of actual camp, and while things were certainly moving along better than they had when everyone was still figuring out their bunking spots and how to get from Point A to Point B, there were still groups of people huddled around, comparing their schedules, and fussing over how to stick with their groups. Thankfully, most of the issues would be solved quickly as the campers were spending more of their time at the art barn, making shirts with their chosen cabin names plastered on the front. Whoever had suggested naming the typically numbered cabins after Greek gods for the summer, like in the Percy Jackson books, had been victorious, and the idea was an instant hit with the campers as they worked on naming everything.

The girls in Cabin 1 had claimed Aphrodite as their cabin name just as quickly as the boys in Cabin 2 had chosen Poseidon. The rainbow goddess, Iris, was taken for Cabin 3, Apollo was claimed by Cabin 4, and Cabin 5 had taken their time choosing Athena before leaving for their cabin. Hades and Persephone came in for 6 and 7, respectively, Ares for 8, and Nike for 9. Fittingly, the group that showed up late and nearly fell asleep in their soups during supper had chosen Hypnos, the Greek god of sleep, to be the mascot for Cabin 10. Artemis was chosen for Cabin 11. Cabin 12 took Hephaestus, and if what Bentley had said during his brief visit to the office was true, they were all pretty good at building things in the art barn. The gaggle of girls who looked as though they had come straight from the set of The Craft was quick to name their cabin after the goddess of magic, Hecate. To round out the list, Cabin 14 took the name of Dionysus, and Cabin 15 chose Nemesis.

Unlike the rest of the campers and staff, most of the people who resided in the already-named cabins didn’t mind that the others got to choose while they didn’t. In the case of the people who now lived in the Lakeside Lodge, they had no issue with the naming choices made by the others. Vivien, Mick, and Riven had been going to the camp for as long as they could remember, and the ever-changing names of different cabins were nothing new to them. The others simply couldn’t bring themselves to care as they were happy where they were.

It was clear that some campers were having issues finding their way around, and it was for that very reason that both the chief of the camp and his wife were making the rounds, showing kids where they needed to go. Instead of holing herself in the music hall to avoid the chaos until it was time for lessons with a pair of kids from Apollo, Vivien had been pulled aside by her grandmother and asked to manage the desk in the main office, answering phone calls, helping kids find their way, and talking to parents who chose to stop by and drop off things their kids had forgotten to pack. She, of course, had no issue with such tasks as she had done so for years, but as another disgruntled mother left after dropping off something her child had forgotten at home, she found herself getting bored.

As the old clock on the wall ticked another minute past two, Vivien glared up at the clock and sighed, hoping for once that the batteries in the old junkyard-worthy thing were finally dying out and it was simply showing her the wrong time. Time after lunch always crawled by like a snail going uphill through molasses, but as she was waiting for something in particular to happen, it felt even slower. Vivien jumped as the phone on the desk rang, hurriedly reaching for it and holding it up to her ear before giving the typical greeting, “Camp Wanamaker front desk, this is Vivien. How can I help you?”

A crisp, cheerful giggle came over the line, and Vivien paused. She knew that laugh. “Goodness, Vivi, you sound so mature,” the person claimed.

“Aunt Charlie?” Vivien questioned.

“Hey, sunshine,” the woman chirped. “I was hoping your Nonna was at the desk so that she’d connect me to you, but I guess I don’t have to go through all that now.”

“I guess not,” Vivien agreed, tucking the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she tugged her ponytail tighter. “What’s up?”

Vivien could practically hear the woman’s pearlescent smile as Charlie said, “Hayley and I wanted to let you know that we’re getting ready to leave New York.”

“Really?” Vivien asked, glancing at the calendar that sat on the desk. “I thought you weren’t leaving until Thursday.”

“We weren’t,” Charlie agreed, “but Hayley is determined to stop by some museum in Massachusetts on the way back, so I’m sure we’ll spend at least a day there.”

“Sounds familiar,” Vivien smirked.

“Tell me about it,” Charlie chuckled. “Heaven help me when I end up at some maritime museum with the two of you.”

Distantly, Vivien could make out her Aunt Hayley adding her two cents to the conversation, “I already said we should take her to the Titanic museum!”

“Did you hear that?” Charlie asked with a sigh. When Vivien hummed in confirmation, Charlie said, “She plans on taking you during one of your school breaks - winter or spring, probably - and bringing you to Branson, Missouri. I told her that she’s out of her fucking mind if she thinks we’re going out to that frozen tundra in the middle of winter.”

Vivien couldn’t contain her smile at the idea. She had been following the Titanic museums for years, having fallen in love with the ship of dreams when she was still young enough to need training wheels on her bicycle. “There’s a museum in Tennesee,” she offered.

Charlie shifted the phone, hollering to Hayley, “You hear that? Even Vivi thinks a nice, warm trip to Tennessee would be better than spending winter break freezing our tits off in Missouri!”

“Missouri is still warmer than New Hampshire,” Hayley called back.

Letting out a sigh, Charlie turned her attention back to the conversation at hand, “Anyway, I figured you should know that we’ll be on our way back. We should still be getting there on Saturday, but plans might change if your other mother spends too much time gawking at dead people’s artifacts.”

In near-perfect unison, both Vivien and Hayley replied, “There’s no such thing as spending too much time in a museum.”

Scoffing, Charlie sighed, “Tell my feet that after she drags me through every floor five times over.”

“You’ll live,” Hayley commented, her voice audibly closer than before. Once the call was on speakerphone, she said to Vivien, “I made sure to save you some Playbills from the shows we saw.”

“Really?” Vivien questioned, although she already knew the answer. “Thank you!”

“Always,” Hayley replied. “I’ll send you some pictures before I pack them.”

“Speaking of packing,” Charlie segued, “I need to get back to it if we plan on getting up north on time.”

“I’ll see you guys when you get here,” Vivien spoke. “Have fun at the museum for me.”

“Next time,” Hayley began, “you’ll be there with us.”

“Absolutely,” Charlie stated. “Have fun at camp.”

“Enjoy watching the new kids run around like a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off!” Hayley commented with a smile evident in her voice.

Vivien could imagine Charlie smacking Hayley on the arm, reprimanding her biological mother for the comment, but heard nothing as she smiled and said, “I will. Love you, guys.”

“Love you too, baby girl!” Hayley exclaimed.

“Love you,” Charlie stated. “See you Saturday.”

“Saturday,” Vivien nodded to herself, listening for the telltale click of the other line ending the call before setting the device back on its hook. She stared at the old phone for a while until her phone screen lit up, a series of messages coming in with images attached. Vivien scrolled through the pictures with a brilliant smile before taking in a deep breath and glancing at the calendar beside her on the desk. She could wait another four days.

Wednesday brought nothing but rain, and, with a simple order after breakfast to keep the campers inside as much as possible to avoid anyone getting sick, everyone went their separate ways. Seeing as they had no choice but to sit around in the music hall despite the fact that nobody had signed up for lessons that day, Miles held the umbrella between himself and Vivien as they walked through the trails leading up to their station. The older wooden cabin was fairly tall, the ceilings were vaulted for better acoustics, and, as Miles closed the umbrella and stepped inside, he realized there were a few leaks in the roof that Vivien quickly remedied by placing buckets on the floor.

The music hall smelled of wood, as most buildings at camp did, but there was a faint odor of the rosin that they used on the bows for the string instruments. The piano on the far wall went almost unused as more teenagers were interested in taking their frustrations out on the drum set Vivien favored. Slouching into the cushioned armchair Miles had chosen for himself the first day in the music hall, he sighed and looked around. It wasn’t much, but it was a place of comfort.

Rain pattered against the windows, and as the sky illuminated with lightning, Miles hoped everyone had gotten where they needed to be before the storm started. Those in charge of lifeguarding or handing out snacks at the pool were dismissed to help elsewhere, and Miles was fleetingly glad that Vivien’s friend, Noah, had been assigned to the playhouse where he would be destined to help Carrie and Riven with putting sets together for the showcase at the end of the summer instead of being holed up in the library with Royce. Royce was, thankfully, practically alone in the rather soundproof library and could probably manage the storm by reading or listening to music to cover the noise of the storm.

Miles sighed to himself as Vivien crossed the room, checking for any more leaks drizzling in from the roof. He knew Royce had grown more capable of handling storms after having Vivien with him for a few months in St. Pete Beach, but that did nothing to quell the bubbling concern within him. Miles was still worried about Royce having to deal with it alone. Then, as though his younger brothers had been reading his mind, Miles’ cell phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to find that Bentley had sent Miles a sneakily-taken picture of Royce. It was obvious the fifteen-year-old had taken the shot without his brother knowing as Royce looked as though he was in the middle of reading, his mouth partially open and a book in his hands. Three little dots glowed on the screen before a hastily written message appeared.

Benny: Royce and I are pk. Stop worming an talk to Viv.

Miles let out a snort, easily deciphering his youngest brother’s message. Despite the incorrectly typed words, Miles was somewhat proud of Bentley. He’d gotten better at texting legible messages over time, but still refused to use autocorrect as he wanted to work things out himself. It wasn’t long before the next one appeared.

Benny: You know what I mean. Just stop thinkimg and hace fun.

Tapping out a quick reply, Miles sent Bentley a message in return before placing his phone on the music stand beside his chair and scanning the room for Vivien. Though he could hear soft, almost inaudible music, he couldn’t see her, so Miles stood and called out, “Viv?”

“In here,” she called from the back room.

Maneuvering his way through the minefield of pattering buckets of water and musical instruments that had been pulled out of the way of danger, Miles made it to the entrance of the backroom, finding Vivien sitting on the floor with a guitar on her lap and drawer full of guitar picks and drum sticks on the floor before her. “What are you doing, kiddo?” he asked as he leaned against the frame of the door.

Setting the guitar aside, Vivien tucked some stray hairs behind her ears and peered up at Miles with a small sigh, “Trying to teach myself guitar.”

Letting out a soft chuckle, Miles crouched low to the ground beside her and asked, “Let me guess; it’s going about as well as teaching yourself French did?”

With an almost sarcastic gleam in her eyes, Vivien scoffed, “How did you know?”

“Because there isn’t a tab sheet in sight, and you’re holding it wrong,” Miles stated with a small smile.

“Not like I can read sheet music in the first place,” Vivien muttered, tossing the pick she had been using into the drawer she’d taken it from.

Shifting so that he sat on the floor next to Vivien, Miles asked, “If you can’t read music, how do you play your drums?”

“With my heart,” Vivien replied easily, emerald eyes flickering toward Miles. “I let the music take me where it wants to go. No two performances are the same.”

The more Miles thought about it, the more it made sense. He had heard her band practices and had spent time listening to Vivien bang around on her drums for fun, but he had always assumed that she knew all the songs she played by heart and never needed papers to tell her what to do when performing. In a way, he supposed he was right. Allowing a smile to tug at his lips, Miles asked, “Do you want to learn?”

“Do I need to in order to play guitar?” she asked in return.

“At first,” Miles admitted, “but after a while, you won’t need it anymore.”

Vivien nodded in understanding, letting out a soft sigh, “If you feel like taking the time to teach me, I’d be more than willing to try.”

“Atta girl,” Miles beamed, nudging Vivien with a hand before grabbing the guitar and standing. “Let’s go.”

As Miles left the foam-padded room, Vivien pushed herself from the floor and brushed imaginary dust from her clothes before shoving the drawer of picks and sticks back into the storage container it belonged to and following Miles out of the room. Standing to the side as Miles dragged a set of chairs from the rack they hung them on every night, Vivien watched as he set them up away from the cases of string instruments. She watched Miles bring over a music stand and some blank papers before he sat on one chair and gestured for her to take the other.

Miles set up the music stand in the space before them as Vivien took her seat and picked up the guitar. Quickly shaking his head, Miles held out a hand and took the guitar from Vivien, who raised a brow curiously, “I thought you were going to teach me?”

“I am,” Miles nodded. “But, it sounds like you learn the same way I do - by sound. I figure that I could play something for you, then show you how to play it instead of making you try to read tabs or anything like that.”

“Is that how you learned?” Vivien asked.

“Mhm,” Miles hummed. Adjusting his fingers on the fretboard, Miles smiled and made sure he had Vivien’s attention before saying, “I’m only going to play the easy version of this song, so promise me that you won’t laugh.”

“I make no such promises,” Vivien smirked. However, as she caught onto Miles’ nervousness, she smiled reassuringly and stated, “I won’t laugh.”

Miles let out a breath of a laugh as he shifted the guitar over his leg, “I’m trusting you, kiddo.”

“Your funeral,” Vivien shrugged.

With a shake of his head and a smile, Miles took in a deep breath and relaxed before beginning to strum out a few cautionary notes. As he began playing the song he had in mind, Vivien watched his fingers move over the frets, switching chords with ease. Then, as Miles gained more confidence in his playing and began subconsciously humming along, Vivien caught onto the familiar tune.

Emerald eyes widened, and as Miles began playing the second verse of the song, Vivien sang along to his humming, “Needless to say, I'm odds and ends, but I'll be stumbling away; slowly learning that life is okay.”

Choosing to join in, Miles sang with Vivien as the song continued, “Say after me: it's no better to be safe than sorry. Take on me.”

Letting her voice carry her excitement to have someone else sing with her, Vivien continued as Miles focused on the music once more, “Take me on. I'll be gone in a day or two.”

Just as Miles prepared to start the next verse, a heavy sound filled the music hall as the lights above them flickered off. Vivien looked to Miles for answers, but when he had none, she turned to the windows and saw the other buildings flickering into darkness as a loud rumble of thunder passed overhead. Rising to her feet, Vivien made her way to the window and let out a disbelieving scoff as Miles joined her and muttered, “I think the whole camp is down.”

“Looks that way,” Vivien sighed. Glancing up at Miles, she asked, “What are we going to do?”

Miles shrugged, “Is there no protocol for something like this?”

Thoughtfully, Vivien shook her head, “We used to have a backup generator, but it stopped working, so we got rid of it in February.”

“Maybe we should head to the mess hall,” Miles suggested. “Wouldn’t everyone gather there?”

“It’s practically a glass box,” Vivien stated. “It wouldn’t be safe.”

“I guess you’re right,” Miles agreed.

Miles peered out the window as Vivien headed back toward her chair and sat down. As much as he wanted to go out and make sure everyone was safe, he was sure that if they all stayed where they were, things would be fine. A sharp, static noise sliced through the silent room like a knife, jolting both Miles and Vivien from their thoughts. Vivien pulled her phone from her pocket and read, “Severe weather alerts are in effect for Belknap, Carroll, Merrimack, Rockingham, and Strafford Counties.”

“That’s half of the state, isn’t it?” Miles asked as he took his phone from where he’d left it.

“Yeah,” Vivien agreed, quickly scrolling over the news alert. “Expect thunderstorms, power outages, and potential hail as the storms progress.”

Looking over Vivien’s shoulder at her phone, Miles asked, “Does it say anything about when the power will be back?”

“No,” she replied with a shake of her head as she returned to her home screen. “I’ll call Nonna and ask if she knows.”

Miles waited patiently as Vivien scrolled through her contacts and pressed on the one for her grandmother, watching as Vivien put the call on speakerphone. The phone only rang twice before Vivien’s Nonna’s voice came over the line, “How are you holding up, sweetheart?”

“We’re alright,” Vivien replied. “Any idea when the power will come back?”

“Not yet,” Dawn replied. “Your grandfather is on the phone with the electric company, but they’re dealing with a lot of people calling in, and it feels as though we’re nowhere near the top of their list.”

“Great,” Vivien sighed sarcastically.

Dawn hummed, taking in a long breath before saying, “I’m going to start calling the different counselors and staff and tell them to send their cabin leads back to their cabins with the campers while they come and get some food and drinks for everyone. We’re going to have to wait out the storm until we can either get through to the electric company or borrow a generator.”

Vivien sighed, nodding to herself. Then, as though a brilliant idea had occurred to her, she asked, “What about the generator at the Hill House? Does that still work?”

The woman on the other end was silent for a moment, presumably thinking of an answer, before answering, “It should; why?”

Glancing at the boy to her right, Vivien said, “Miles and I can take a run up there with Butchy’s truck and get it. If we can hook it up to the camp’s electrical grid, we’ll be back in business.”

“Good thinking, eaglet,” Dawn commented. “Come to the office and grab the key to the house before you go. You’ll need to pick up the gas cans your grandfather leaves in the garage while you’re up there.”

“Alright, see you soon,” Vivien stated before hanging up the phone. Turning to Miles, she offered him an apologetic smile before saying, “Guitar lessons will have to wait, I’m afraid.”

Miles chuckled as he made his way to where he’d left his umbrella, “That’s fine.” Pulling open the door as Vivien joined him, he asked, “Where, exactly, are we going?”

“The Hill House,” Vivien answered, pulling her sweatshirt’s hood over her head before stepping outside and closing the door to the music hall. “It’s Nonna and Grandpa George’s house just up the road.”

“They have a generator up there?” Miles asked.

Vivien nodded, “The winters up here are brutal, but the generator helps when the power goes out. We used to go up there during every blizzard when I was little because we lost power downtown a lot faster than they did up here.”

“Understandable,” Miles shrugged. “I’ll go get the keys from the cabin, and I’ll meet you at the office.”

When Miles offered her the umbrella, Vivien simply pushed it back into his hand and shook her head, “I’ll be fine. Just go.”

Without giving Miles a chance to argue, Vivien took off in a run, the rain pelting through her hoodie as she left Miles standing in the middle of the trail. Miles shook his head at the girl’s antics before taking off for the cabin they shared. Meanwhile, Vivien ran through the camp, weaving through familiar trails now lined with mud, her sneakers slipping through the uneven terrain as she made her way toward the old lodge at the front of the camp. Launching herself onto the deck that wrapped around the building, Vivien kicked the mud from her shoes off the side of the deck and swiped beads of rain from her glasses with a sigh as she pulled open the screen door and stepped inside the main office.

The office was dark and unusually warm as the air conditioning that usually cooled the building had gone off with the electricity. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves as she called out for her grandmother, Vivien reached into her pocket and produced her cell phone, hoping its protective case was enough to keep the phone from getting wet. Unlocking the device, Vivien hurriedly flipped on her flashlight and looked around, the silence and overall darkness of the usually lively building setting her on edge. She wasn’t a fan of the dark, and the silence was unsettling, to say the least. Normally, she would be greeted by her favorite dumb dog or someone at the desk, but it appeared as though nobody was there.

Making her way past the front desk into the main hall where people could play a handful of arcade games, some foosball, ping pong, or air hockey, Vivien took in a deep breath and called, “Nonna? Grandpa George? Is anyone here?”

A clear, low “A-woof,” echoed through the main hall, and Vivien turned toward the dog’s bark as Ding trotted over from his resting place on the cool stone hearth next to the unlit fireplace. Clearly pleased to have been woken up for attention, the shepherd-rottweiler circled Vivien’s legs with a bounce in his steps before sitting in front of her, his front legs tapping back and forth on the hardwood floors as his tail dusted the floor and his tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth.

Vivien knelt down and set her phone on the floor so the lumbering giant could receive some scratches and muttered, “Hey, Dingy.” The gentle dog panted happily in response, raising his paw for a shake out of habit. Vivien chuckled and shook the dog’s paw with a smile before saying, “I’ll give you a treat in a minute, buddy, but I need to find Nonna.”

As though the dog had understood the conditions Vivien had laid out, he stood and trotted over to a door on the far side of the room that led into a meeting room they used primarily for interviews before the summer started. The dog turned back toward Vivien and sat by the door before giving a short breath of a bark. Pushing herself to her feet, Vivien grabbed her phone from the floor and followed the path the dog had taken, meeting him by the door. As she neared the door, she could make out her grandmother’s voice on the other side, and Vivien smiled to herself as she reached down to pet her family’s dog.

A knock on the door later, Vivien heard her grandmother moving around in the other room before the door opened, and she came face to face with the woman. Stepping out and closing the door behind her, Dawn sighed, “If I have to explain power outages to another counselor who thinks they’re above the power company, I’m resigning.”

“You won’t,” Vivien claimed with a smile.

“I won’t,” Dawn shook her head, “but it sure is tempting.” Looking over her granddaughter with an exhausted smile, the older woman reached up and took Vivien’s glasses from her face, cleaning the smudges from them with her shirt before sliding them back into place. “Are you sure about this, sweetheart?”

Vivien nodded, “You guys said that if I want to help run the camp someday, I need to think outside the box, right?”

Dawn smiled as she cupped her granddaughter’s face in her hands, “That’s never truly been a concern with you. For some reason, it appears you see things just the same as your grandfather - always outside of the box.”

Though she smiled in return, Vivien’s confusion was evident as she asked, “What do you mean?”

“He offered to go pick up that generator just before you called,” Dawn confessed. “I told him that if he plans on being able to use his back at all, he'll stay here, and we can just wait it out.”

“Did you tell him I was going to get it?”

“Of course not,” Dawn said with a small shake of her head. “He would have either tried to stop you or join you, and - to be honest - I’m getting sick of hospital trips because of his stubbornness.”

Vivien knew all too well how many times they had ended up at the hospital after her grandfather had tried to do something himself and gotten injured for it. Thankfully, none of it was severe, but it happened all too often. The last thing they needed was another trip to the emergency room in the middle of a power outage. With a nod, Vivien decided, “I guess we should get going, then. The sooner we get it and get back here, the less likely he is to take off for it himself, and the sooner we can have power again.”

“Good thinking,” Dawn claimed, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a single key attached to a small chain and a dangling silver eagle. Once Vivien had pocketed the key, Dawn pulled the teenager down enough to press their foreheads together momentarily and press a quick kiss to the girl’s cheek. “Be careful, my eaglet.”

“I will, Nonna,” Vivien reassured with a small smile as her grandmother walked her back to the office at the front of the building. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

Dawn hummed, “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Vivien called as she made her way back toward the front door.

Dawn watched her granddaughter push open the screen door, seeing it thump back against the frame as Vivien ran toward a familiar pickup truck and hopped inside. The girl spoke animatedly with Miles as the door of the truck slammed shut, and she buckled herself in. Stepping onto the porch, Dawn leaned against the wooden frame that held the roof over her head and watched with a smile as the pair backed out of the space their friend had parked in, giving them a simple wave as a parting as they backed through the mud and drove toward the long road that led out of the camp.

Smiling to herself, Dawn sighed, “She’s just like her aunt.” Giving a bark in agreement, Ding nudged his head against the woman’s leg, softly asking for attention. Dawn chuckled, running a hand through the dog's fur before turning back toward the office as thunder rolled overhead, “Back inside, Ding. I’ll get you a treat.”

Their windshield wipers clearing the window a mile a minute, Miles and Vivien rolled down the bumpy driveway of the camp in relative silence. The defogger roared to keep the windows clear as much as possible, but it did little to keep Vivien from wiping hers with her sleeve. Miles said nothing about it, having done the same to his window when he first climbed into his best friend’s pickup. Music played softly from the speakers, having connected to one of their phones upon starting, but neither occupant of the vehicle knew whose it was.

“Turn right up here,” Vivien gently ordered as Miles reached the end of the unpaved road.

“Alright,” Miles said, flicking on the blinker as he glanced down the road, turning in the direction Vivien had told him to. “You know, I thought your grandparents lived at the camp.”

“Yeah?” Vivien wondered, watching Miles for his nod of confirmation. She chuckled, “Sometimes it feels like they do. They’ve always favored camp more than their house.”

“Why not just sell the house and move onto the camp’s property?” Miles asked.

Vivien shrugged, “They want to eventually, but they’re not done having the plans made up for their special cabin.”

Miles hummed, pulling more of his attention back to the road as Vivien stared out the window in anticipation. At the same time, Vivien felt her knee begin to bounce as the house came into view in the distance. While Carrie’s reaction to her family’s property had been about on par with what she’d hoped it would be, Miles was more of a question mark for her. They had a great relationship, and, over the months she had spent in his house over what was supposed to be a week-long vacation to their world, she had begun to see him as a pseudo-brother - a man she could trust with just about anything and knew he would be there for her as much as he was for his brothers. Taking in a deep breath, Vivien tried to force herself to relax into the leather seats; she had always intended to bring all three of the Murphy brothers to the house at once to get their reactions at the same time, but that concept had left her the moment helping camp came into the picture.

Glancing at Miles through the corner of her eye, Vivien swallowed thickly. Maybe this would be her way to get a taste of how Royce and Bentley would react to her family’s financial status. Discreetly letting out the breath she’d held, Vivien turned to Miles and said, “It’s the white house on the right with the horses at the end of the driveway.”

Miles turned briefly toward Vivien before turning his gaze back to the road and asking, “Horses?”

Vivien nodded, “A pair of stone horses by the road. The animal Nonna chose for Grandpa George was a spotted horse, so he made some when they got the house.”

Miles smiled at the thought, but as he scanned the street for the house with the horses by the end of the driveway, it faltered ever-so-slightly. Tearing his gaze from the mansion on the hill, Miles glanced at Vivien once again, pointed to the building, and asked, “Is that the house?”

Vivien nodded silently and, when Miles' expression shifted from confusion to shock, she stated, “They’ve had it longer than I’ve been alive.”

“Holy shit,” Miles breathed as he slowly turned into the driveway, blue eyes flickering over the large home. As he pulled to a stop at the end of the driveway, he shut the truck off and examined the house in more detail. “Are you sure this belongs to the same people who made us bug juice and breakfast for dinner the other day?”

Vivien allowed the corners of her lips to tug upward slightly as she nodded, “It does. They bought this when my mom and Aunt Hayley were little since they wanted them to have enough space to grow and, eventually, bring their families to stay.”

“Wow.” Miles chuckled in a breath, turning to Vivien with a smile that made her relax a little, “Think they’d adopt me and the boys?”

Surprised by the older boy’s statement, Vivien let out a squawk of laughter, staring at him in disbelief before dissolving into giggles. With a shake of her head and a smile, she turned to Miles and sighed, “This isn’t how I thought this would go.”

“How what would go?” Miles asked.

“This,” Vivien said, gesturing between them and the house. “I haven’t brought a lot of people up here, but I thought you’d have more questions about it.”

Miles smiled at the girl and said, “Although I definitely have to say this isn’t what I was expecting - I was thinking more of a house like mine - I’m not entirely surprised your grandparents have this huge house.”

“You aren’t?” Vivien wondered, her eyebrow raising past her soaked bangs. “How come?”

“I’ve seen the pictures of the camp over the years,” Miles stated. “You have to have some serious money coming in to be able to expand the property and build so many new structures on the land.”

“They also have partial ownership of my parents’ winery since it was theirs first,” Vivien added.

“I bet that was a fun switch,” Miles said with a smile.

Taking in another deep breath, Vivien said, “I just don’t get how you’re not curious for more information. I would be.”

Thinking about his reasoning for a moment, Miles asked, “You got the chance to learn all about us when you came to Florida for a while; did you enjoy that?”

“Well, yeah,” Vivien agreed. “I liked getting to know more about you guys and seeing the world you come from.”

“That’s what I mean,” Miles stated. “Now we’re getting the chance to learn more about you and your world, at your pace. We’re not going to push for more than you’re willing to give.”

“Oh,” Vivien breathed. He made a lot of sense.

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” Miles chuckled, reaching over to nudge the girl. “Now, are you going to help me get that generator back to camp, or am I going to have to search the property for it myself?”

“Alright, alright,” Vivien said with a playful roll of her eyes. “Let’s go.”

A typical Thursday at Camp Wanamaker was filled with activities, and most everyone was brought to the soccer field for a sort of field day before the end of the week. However, with rain turning the ground into mud and tree limbs falling all over the place the previous day, most workers were assigned to their typical areas to clean and fix whatever the rain had damaged. Royce was one of the lucky few who hadn’t had to worry as the library ceiling had been redone before winter the previous year, and no leaks had seeped through. Other structures, such as the playhouse, weren’t so fortunate.

Upon their arrival at the playhouse, Riven and Carrie were saddled with cleaning up the buckets of accumulated water, mopping the floors, and getting everything ready for the end-of-the-week show. On Friday evening, each cabin would go up on stage and show off something they had worked hard on throughout the week for the parents that filled the uncomfortable metal seats they would set out. Though Carrie seemed optimistic and hopeful that the show would go over well for the parents who would come, Riven seemed less enthusiastic.

“If we’re lucky,” he had claimed, “there won’t be any eight-year-olds shooting flaming arrows on stage this year.”

They had propped the doors open with bricks and begun working on carrying out bucket after bucket of water as the rest of the workers got started on fixing set pieces and making sure nothing in the back rooms had gotten damaged in the storm. As Carrie lugged the last bucket of water outside and dumped it into what was now a very well-watered bush on the side of the building, she heard her name being called and froze, looking around for anyone who could have been summoning her. Shrugging, Carrie began heading back for the building, only to hear her name being called once more.

Turning toward the voice as it got closer, Carrie smiled as she saw Vivien barreling toward her with a bright smile, the girl’s hoodie tied securely around her waist and fluttering out behind her like some sort of skirt. “Hey, Vivi,” Carrie called in return, setting her bucket aside and bracing herself for the attack hug the teenager gave to seemingly everyone she cared for.

Sure enough, the brunette’s arms found security around Carrie’s middle as she bounced excitedly in place. Backing off just enough to capture Carrie’s arms in her hands, Vivien said, “You’ll never guess where my Aunt Hayley and Aunt Charlie are today.”

“Where are they?” Carrie asked, knowing better than to try to guess as she was sure she’d be wrong.

“They’re at a Titanic museum!” Vivien squealed. “Apparently, there’s this museum in the back half of a jewelry store in Massachusetts, and they sent me, like, a zillion pictures of everything, and it looks like so much fun, and I just have to show everyone the pictures.”

The excitement radiating off of Vivien was palpable, and although Carrie certainly didn’t mind being included in the girl’s list of people she wanted to show, she knew that if she didn’t stop Vivien now, the girl wouldn’t stop until she had gone searching all over the camp for everyone else on the list. Beaming her usual smile at the girl, Carrie said, “That’s amazing!”

“I know, right!” Vivien giggled. Peering past Carrie into the playhouse, she asked, “Have you seen Riven? I want to show you both the pictures.”

Chuckling, Carrie asked, “Why don’t you show everyone at lunch so you don’t have to go running all over creation, searching for everyone?”

Vivien looked ready to say something in her defense, but as the thought took hold and she realized how much sense the blonde’s idea made, she chuckled hesitantly, “I didn’t think of that.”

Carrie let out a short laugh and shook her head before resting her hands on her hips, “Tell me you didn’t leave Miles to handle all of those kids by himself.”

Vivien’s eyes gradually widened as realization dawned on her. Glancing up at the music house where she had abandoned Miles with a few drummers, a handful of hopeful guitarists, and a child who was adamant he wanted to play the tuba for his performance at the end of the week, Vivien sucked in a breath and sighed before glancing back to Carrie. “Yeah,” she breathed, “I might have fucked up a little bit.”

“Yeah,” Carrie snickered. Patting Vivien on the arm, Carrie smiled, “How about you go up there and help him out, and the rest of us will just have to wait until lunch or dinner to see those epic photos of yours?”

“I think I should, yeah,” Vivien breathed. Taking a few steps back, she said, “I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Have fun,” Carrie teased, earning herself a roll of Vivien’s green eyes before the girl turned and took off for the music hall once more. Shaking her head at the girl’s antics, Carrie picked up the bucket she had left on the steps of the playhouse and headed back inside.

Riven met her by the chair racks near the stage and asked, “What was that all about?”

“Viv left Miles alone to deal with a bunch of gremlin children,” Carrie replied as she pulled down a few chairs.

Riven made a face as he took the chairs, “I can’t imagine that’ll go over well.”

“Me neither,” Carrie chuckled as she helped Riven bring over some of the chairs and set them up in organized rows for the show.

Around the lunch table that noontime, Vivien pulled her phone from her pocket and excitedly passed it around, letting everyone see the pictures her family had sent her during the day. Though most of the conversation revolved around the girl and her excitement for the return of her aunts, and the food ran a bit cold as they each took time to stop and scroll through the images Vivien had received, nobody seemed to mind. They were all simply glad to listen to her ramble on and on about the different artifacts and displays she had been sent pictures of.

Typically, most of the days at Camp Wanamaker are varied and different from each other, but the only constant in an ever-changing schedule is that of Fridays. Friday nights were the host to many events - campfires and beach parties for the workers while the campers had the end-of-week performances. Fridays were the start of the week’s end as, after the end-of-week performances concluded for those who were only staying a short span at the summer camp, some campers would return home with their parents. While most kids waited until Saturday to be picked up, there was always a handful who chose to leave early to spend the full weekend at home.

Fridays were also the only days that the camp would have music constantly filling the air, the speakers throughout the trails playing whatever songs were chosen the day before. For a few, however, the music that played outside the buildings was muted by thick soundproofing and went fairly ignored. Mick wasn’t usually one of those people who sat around in the music hall, playing music to keep herself entertained while others puttered around the camp, intent on being obnoxious on their free day. If anything, she would have preferred to relax on the beach with Butchy and have a peaceful picnic. However, Vivien had practically begged for help as she and Miles had no clue how to help the violinist who wanted to perform a cover of Kate Bush’s Running Up That Hill, and, as any good friend would, Mick had given up her free time to assist in any way she could.

Hours of accompanying the violinist on the piano later, Mick’s hands were cramping, and as she waved a final farewell to the excited child, she let out a relieved sigh. Once the door closed behind the kid, Mick rubbed at her wrists, hoping to quell some of the strain in them as Miles approached her with a knowing smirk. Raising an accusatory finger, Mick scowled, “Not a word.”

Pretending to look offended, Miles placed a hand on his chest and gasped, “Me? Why on earth would I say anything?”

Approaching the pair with a confused expression, “Anything about what?”

Mick sighed, “It’s nothing.”

Miles turned to Vivien with a smirk and explained, “Butchy tried to teach Mick how to play the piano when they first started getting close, and she acted like she had no idea how to play. It was awful.”

“But Mick’s played piano since she was little,” Vivien said slowly. “Why would she need to do that?”

Without giving Mick a chance to clear the air, Miles laughed, “So that he would have to adjust her hands and stay close to her the entire time.”

“That wasn’t the reason!” Mick protested, smacking Miles in the stomach with the back of her hand.

“Oh yeah?” Miles asked. “Then what was?”

Mick looked ready to argue her case, but resigned to sighing and shaking her head as she admitted, “Alright, maybe that was the reason, but I wasn’t bad at acting.”

“You were, too,” Miles chuckled. “You had him wrapped around your finger so quickly that he couldn’t see how terrible your acting skills were.”

Mick rolled her eyes, relenting with a smile as she stood, “Yeah, alright, whatever. Are you guys all set for the show now?”

Vivien met Miles’ gaze questioningly before the pair nodded, and he answered, “We’re good. Are you going to the show or the worker’s campfire?”

“Not sure yet,” Mick claimed as she allowed the pair to lead her toward the door. Turning to Vivien, she asked, “Is your band performing?”

“Not at the show, no,” Vivien replied with a shake of her head. “We’re thinking of playing some favorites tonight either at the campfire if nobody else is playing, but that’s about it.”

Mick hummed as she nodded, “Well, when you guys figure things out, let me know, and I’ll tell the others where to meet tonight.”

Vivien nodded and watched her old friend take to the trails, disappearing in the foliage that graced the walking paths. Heading back inside the music hall, Vivien helped Miles get everything put away before taking a seat on one of the remaining folding chairs and sighing. Smirking at the brunette as she stared up at the vaulted ceiling, Miles nudged Vivien’s foot with his and asked, “What’s up?”

“The ceiling,” Vivien replied, shifting her focus onto the taller male as he took a seat beside her. Sighing again, she admitted, “I’m worried about tonight.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Miles reassured.

“Says you,” Vivien mumbled. “You pick up a guitar, and everyone loves whatever you play. I make it sound like injured cats screaming for help.”

“You do not,” Miles laughed. “You sound amazing.”

Vivien shook her head, her gaze falling to the slightly tattered Converse she refused to give up despite their condition, “I just don’t think I’m ready to perform for everyone, Miles.”

Noting the girl’s hesitance, Miles reached out and took her fidgeting hands in his, gaining her attention as he declared, “I do. You’ve been practicing, and it shows. If you decide not to play for everyone, that’s fine, but just know that, no matter what, I can tell that you’re ready.”

“You can?”

Miles smiled as he nodded, “I can.”

Scanning Miles’ eyes for any sign of deceit yet finding none, Vivien slowly nodded, “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask,” Miles accepted. Letting go of one of the girl’s hands, Miles latched onto the handle of a guitar case and slid it into view. “Just do me a favor and take this with you before we lock up - even if you don’t play tonight.”

Vivien nodded, accepting the case from Miles as he stood and folded the chair he had perched himself on, bringing it to the rack it belonged on. As Miles made his rounds one last time, Vivien opened the guitar case and peered inside at the guitar she had been practicing on with Miles for the last few days. They had been solely focused on practicing their acoustic version of Take On Me by A-ha as it was one of the only songs Miles had suggested that Vivien knew normally. Taking it slower and piecing the song together bit by bit had shredded the teen’s patience, but as she allowed Miles’ words to sink in and take hold, she smiled to herself. Maybe she could handle it after all.

Later that evening, as she relaxed on the beach, surrounded by only her closest friends, Vivien nudged Miles and asked for the guitar as discreetly as possible. Settling down on the sand in the spot she had risen from moments before, Vivien adjusted her grip on the guitar and took in a deep breath before strumming out a few hesitant chords. As she gained everyone's attention, Vivien focused on the strings under her fingers and began playing the first few notes. Once she had finished the introduction, Vivien swallowed her nervousness and began softly singing the way she did during her practices with Miles, “Talking away, I don't know what I'm to say. I'll say it anyway; today's another day to find you. Shying away, I'll be coming for your love, okay?”

Adjusting her fingers for the chorus and taking in a quick breath, Vivien tried not to jump as Jade’s voice joined hers, “Take on me. Take me on.” Looking up from the guitar just enough to see the beaming smile on the lead singer’s face, Vivien smiled and allowed herself to sing just a bit louder as she continued playing, “I'll be gone in a day or two.”

More voices joined in for the second verse - Mick, Miles, Riven, and Erica, namely - and Vivien found herself relaxing more as more people joined her. Another chorus and a bit of an instrumental break later, Vivien happily let her voice be drowned out as Royce and Bentley joined in from either side of her with unavoidable smiles on their faces. As the song played to its finish, those in the circle applauded, forcing Vivien to let out a laugh of relief as the last coil of tension eased from her shoulders. Once the guitar was out of the way, Royce and Bentley assaulted her with questions, and, for once, Vivien couldn’t think of a better way to end the week.

With all of the anticipation surrounding the end-of-week performances and her own guitar solo, Vivien had been so distracted that, when a phone call from her Aunt Hayley came in early the next morning, she realized that the excitement was far from over. Vivien had begun her day easily enough after that early morning phone call, throwing her blankets back into place and going for a swim to pass the time just a bit quicker before showering and returning to her room to get ready for the day. After all, it wasn’t just every day that her aunts came to camp.

Well, technically, it was as they went every year, but the fact still stood; it was a big day, and she wanted to be ready.

Practically wolfing down breakfast, Vivien found herself looking for something - anything - to keep her mind busy from the crawling time. Royce had offered to read with her, but that hadn’t lasted long as they both realized she had been checking her watch as subtly as possible. Swimming with everyone in the pool hadn’t gone well, as Vivien was too antsy to do much with them. Riven suggested she take some time to bang around on her drums in the music hall, but even that hadn’t gone over too well either, as she ended up checking her phone for any sign of a message.

Eventually deciding she couldn’t continue waiting around for a sign of a message to come through, Vivien handed her phone off to the one person who seemed impervious to her pleading eyes no matter how hard she tried: Carrie. Carrie took the phone hostage with ease and kept it in her pocket, watching with mild sadness as Vivien resorted to pacing the porch that wrapped around the main office and looking over every time the device made a noise. After a while, Carrie had to relinquish her possession of the cell phone as she was asked to help make a batch of punch in the mess hall, but she sent Riven a text before she left, asking him to watch the girl for her. Although Carrie knew that Vivien’s spot on the office porch gave her a good vantage point of the parking lot and the driveway that led to the camp, she wasn’t sure it was wise for the teenager to place herself there for the rest of the day.

Every car that pulled into the parking lot was met with scrutinous yet hopeful stares from a pair of emerald eyes that watched the mouth of the driveway like a hawk. The sixteen-year-old had eventually resigned to sitting on one of the rocking chairs her grandparents had made long before she was born, keeping herself occupied with rocking back and forth, petting her loyal companion as she went. Despite bribes of treats from others, Ding stayed by Vivien’s side, accepting attention from parents and campers alike as they came and went from the campground, yet refusing to leave the girl alone as the others helped parents get their kids ready to leave.

Lunch came and went, yet Vivien stayed in her place. Royce brought two trays from the mess hall and stayed on the porch with his girlfriend, talking with her and trying to keep her occupied for a while. By the time lunch had ended, a large portion of the campers who had signed up for the first week of camp had gone. Pressing a kiss to his girlfriend’s forehead, Royce took their trays and claimed he would return after he brought the trays back to the mess hall, leaving Vivien alone with her thoughts and the camp’s mascot, who greedily worked his way through the bits of hotdogs Vivien had passed him from the extra Royce had brought.

Staring out at the parking lot before her, Vivien sighed and pulled her phone from her pocket. Swiping through her apps, Vivien chose her maps and tracked the distance from the hotel her aunts had stayed at to the camp. Even if they had left at ten, they should have been there already. Two and a half hours had certainly passed since Vivien had received the selfie they had sent her, letting her know they were getting ready to leave. Frowning as she placed her phone on her lap, Vivien glanced up at the road as she heard yet another car pull into the parking lot. To her dismay, the rust-colored Buick Skylark was certainly not the bubblegum pink Volkswagen Beetle she knew Charlie had made Hayley drive for the duration of their journey.

As another child rushed through the screen door, letting it slam behind them as they barrelled out of the office and to their relative’s vehicle, Vivien slouched into her chair and stared up at the overhang that covered the porch. She tried to remain optimistic as much as possible, but it was beginning to become increasingly difficult as more time passed. Thoughts of car accidents, explosions, and a myriad of other horrible disasters flooded Vivien’s mind no matter how hard she tried to keep them at bay. Taking a deep breath, Vivien focused on Ding, pushing her thoughts away as she ran her fingers through the dog’s multicolored fur. Maybe it was something simple like them stopping at a friend’s house along the way and simply not texting - Vivien knew they both had friends in Massachusetts and understood just how much they liked to visit when they could. It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility.

As Vivien tried to think of something else, a pair of black and white Chuck Taylors with the laces tied around the ankles came into view. Vivien knew of only a few people who did such a thing, and as she looked up, she held up a hand to block the sun as she found Butchy standing above her with a small grin. “What’s up, big guy?” she asked in a sort of sigh, her gaze drifting back toward the dog who had remained by her side for most of the day.

“We’re going down to the lake,” he replied, crouching down beside the girl’s chair so that they were on more even ground.

“Have fun,” Vivien said, forcing the corners of her mouth upward.

Butchy settled his gaze on the younger brunette and restated, “Vivien, I meant all of us. That means you.”

Taking in a slow breath, Vivien sighed, “I can’t. I have to wait for my aunts to get here.”

Resting his elbows on his knees, Butchy asked, “And you don’t think that your grandparents will let you know the minute they walk in the door?”

“No,” Vivien replied quickly, accusatorily, “I know they would. I just-”

“Have been making everyone worry all day,” Butchy interrupted, watching Vivien's expression shift from defensive to something between concern and disappointment. When Vivien said nothing, Butchy continued, “We know you’re excited for your family to get here, but keeping watch like this will only serve to drag things out. If you keep yourself busy, time will go by faster, and they’ll be here sooner.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried that already?” Vivien scoffed, slouching in her chair. “Nothing I’ve tried has worked yet.”

With a heavy sigh and a shake of his head at Vivien’s apparent defeat, Butchy gestured to the door and offered, “Alright, well, if you insist on staying out here in this heat, why don’t you come in and get some juice to keep yourself hydrated?”

Though she felt the slightest hint of deception in his words - a plan of some sort she was sure he had planned - Vivien ignored her instincts and nodded, placing her phone on the table between the rocking chairs and sighing, “Yeah, alright.”

Butchy smiled and pushed himself back to his full height as Vivien stood. Once she had stretched, the tension in her body coming out in creaks and pops, Butchy quickly ducked low, hauling the teenager over his shoulder in a sort of fireman’s carry as she let out a screech of surprise. “Sorry, piccola,” Butchy apologized, sounding very not sorry as he made his way down the porch steps and away from the main office, “but you need a break, and if you’re not going to take one on your own, I’m going to make sure you do.”

Vivien fought along the way, digging her elbows into the older brunet’s back and kicking her legs in an attempt to escape, but Butchy was firm in his decision, and, as the pine needle pathways parted into a sandy beach, the girl finally relaxed. “Okay, I get it; I need to stop worrying so much,” she tried. “You can put me down now.”

“Not yet,” Butchy claimed, a hint of mirth in his tone as he stepped onto the wooden pier that stretched out over the water.

Figuring out the biker’s plan just a moment too late, Vivien’s voice rose as she hollered, “You better not push me in!”

“He won’t,” another voice replied. As Butchy lowered Vivien to the wooden slats, she turned to find Miles standing to the side with a smile, Riven standing just behind him with a knowing smirk. Piping up again, Miles said, “But we just might.”

Vivien was fast and could easily outrun Miles, this she knew, but even she had to admit Riven would reach her long before she reached the shore. Deciding she wasn’t one to give up easily, Vivien turned, ducked around Butchy, and shoved him toward the edge of the pier with a push to the chest before bolting. Sure enough, about halfway down the pier, a pair of arms wrapped around Vivien’s middle and hauled her into the air, her knees pulling to her chest out of instinct as she shrieked. Though she attempted to pry Riven’s arms from around her waist, Vivien knew it was a lost cause as he dragged her back to the spot where the piers met.

Miles caught one of Vivien’s ankles as she kicked his way and snagged the other when she froze in surprise. Then, as Riven’s grasp slid and his hands gripped under Vivien’s arms, her eyes widened, and she screeched, “Don’t you fucking dare!”

Though she could only see Miles’ beaming smile, she could hear Riven’s as he decided, “On the count of three, Miles?”

“No!” Vivien exclaimed as Miles nodded, and Butchy stepped forward to remove the girl’s glasses.

“One,” Miles began.

“Two,” Riven continued.

Vivien watched as Miles nodded to Riven and glanced up at the clear, blue sky as they counted the dreaded final number in unison, “Three!”

Time slowed as Vivien sailed through the air; the only thoughts filling her head were those of murder - three slow, torturous murders that she now had to commit. Maybe she would use rat poison or antifreeze. Perhaps, if they were lucky, she would be merciful and use eye drops in their drinks. As the cool water of the lake engulfed Vivien, her mind emptied, and her eyes wrenched shut as she slid beneath the chilled water’s surface. Grateful to have been dumped in a deeper part of the lake, Vivien kicked her way to the surface and took in a deep breath as she pushed her hair from her face.

With her first breath of air, she gasped, “You dickheads are going to die!”

The blurry figure on the left chuckled, “You can’t kill us if you can’t see us, kiddo.”

“Don’t care, asshat,” Vivien grumbled. “I just washed these shorts, and now they need to be washed again. You’ll die for this.”

“Well, at least she’s focused on killing us instead of worrying about when Hayley and Charlie will get here,” the blur in the middle declared.

“Yeah.” Chuckling, the last of the three blurry stooges turned his head toward Vivien and taunted, “Did that cool you off any, Pip?"

“Ha-fucking-ha, you ass,” Vivien snarked. Although it had certainly cleared her mind of the racing thoughts that had kept her on edge throughout the day, she wasn’t going to admit that to them. “Will you three just get me out of here so I can change?”

“Are you going to hang out on the beach with us once you’re done?” the voice in the middle that she recognized as Butchy’s asked.

Sighing, Vivien nodded as she stretched out a hand, “If it means I can go wash the seaweed smell from my hair, yeah.”

It took the three men little time to pull a waterlogged Vivien from the lake, but it took even less time for her, in all of her puddling glory, to chase them back down the pier to the sand once she received her glasses. After shoving two of the three men into the shallower water and tackling Riven to the sand with a flying leap, Vivien retreated to the lodge, where she squelched her way to her room to grab something to change into and trailed a line of lake water to the bathroom where she quickly showered. Once she had ditched her sodden clothing into the hamper to be washed as soon as possible and changed into something dry, Vivien dried the puddles she had left in her wake and made her way out to the sand where everyone had gathered.

Royce shifted to the left to allow Vivien a place to sit between himself and Bentley, smiling as he asked, “Where were you?”

“Taking a shower,” Vivien replied.

“How come?” Bentley asked. “It’s not even close to lights out.”

Instead of giving a direct answer, Vivien sent a playful glare at the three men who sat across from them and said, “Ask the three stooges over there.”

Riven, Miles, and Butchy quickly looked away, eager to avoid the questioning glances the rest of the group sent their way. Eventually, Vivien dismissed the topic, and conversations began to flow once more. Gradually, Vivien felt herself relax as she dug her feet into the sand and allowed herself to laugh at Carrie and Riven’s retelling of their day in the playhouse - something about a rather unfortunate mishap involving wet paint and the new air conditioner they had just put in. Time glided by like a bird catching a gust of wind, and after what felt like only minutes went by, Vivien jumped as she heard a familiar voice call her name.

Turning toward the line where the pine needle paths met the sandy beach, Vivien’s smile broadened as she spotted a tan-skinned, brunette woman with a Titanic shirt sliding through the sand who dragged a woman with dark skin and a head of almost neon pink braids behind her. “Vivien!” the woman in front called.

“Aunt Hayley!” Vivien hollered in return, pushing herself to her feet and stumbling through the sand as she ran toward the pair. Colliding with the taller of the two women, Vivien laughed as the older woman dropped the bag she had been holding and enveloped her in a tight embrace.

Smiling a the sight, the woman with the pink braids put her hands on her hips and asked, “What am I - chopped liver?”

Releasing her grip on her Aunt Hayley, Vivien let out a breath of a laugh and brought her arms around the shorter woman’s shoulders, “Of course.”

“If that’s the case,” the woman drawled, a teasing tone in her voice, “maybe I should just forget about all those souvenirs we brought back for you.”

Vivien’s eyes ignited like fireworks as she leaned back enough to smile at the woman, “Only the best chopped liver in the world.”

“Mhm,” Charlie hummed, a smirk settling on her face. “Thought so.”

Before allowing either of the women to break out the items they had returned with, Vivien gestured toward the group she had been sitting around with, took one of their hands in hers, and began rambling, “Now that you’re here, you can meet all of my friends, and we can share stories and hang out together and, even though I’ve told you all about them, I’m sure you’ll love to hear it all again and-”

As Vivien continued her long-winded, borderline-incoherent ramblings showcasing how genuinely excited she was for some of her favorite people to finally meet, Hayley and Charlie shared a look, smiling knowingly as the brunette before them ranted and raved about her summer and the people they had only seen pictures of prior to their arrival at Camp Wanamaker. With any luck, they would have names memorized by the end of the week and be able to enjoy watching everyone grow as time went on. They had claimed that excitement always seemed to fill every corner of Camp Wanamaker, and with a few new characters added to the fray of their normal summer group, that fact seemed to be all the more truthful.

#Camp Wanamaker

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maladaptive-jcb · 10 months

Text

Chapter 7: I See You

Jamie x female!reader

(fluff, safe for under 18)

Click here for chapter 6 if you missed it

Summary: Reader is an independent artist who lives on her own in a small town and meets Jamie, a musician, in an art studio where their budding relationship formed through shared interests of different forms of art.

Warning: There will be talks about trauma and PTSD from sexual assault, domestic abuse and dissociative episodes throughout the story.

I haven't felt like visiting the beach in a very long time. I try to avoid any swimming activities mostly so I can hide my skin better. It doesn't matter what kind of swimsuit I'll wear, the vulnerability will always overwhelm me and somehow it makes me believe that people will stare right at me… at my scars. It's now looking right back at me on my mirror reflection. I haven't worn this two piece bikini in so long. I wore it so much when I was back home and spending so many summers with my family. I chose this today specifically to make me feel better. And maybe… Just, maybe, I can make better memories with Jamie with this.

Yet, as I'm running through my fingers on my scars, my mind still flashes back to a certain awful memory. That night…

Aaron didn't notice I was bleeding. He was too drunk to notice much. I had to cover the cuts with pieces of clothes I could find in my closet. He was so full of rage that he turned off the lights in our room and passed out right after all his drinking. While I was wincing from pain, I tried laying next to him silently. It was a sleepless night for me until morning came and I drove myself to the hospital. The doctors told me that they found tiny shards of glass in my wounds and it took them almost an hour to clean them up before the cuts were stitched.

Everything went by so fast that I didn't even have time to process it during the incident. It even took me a while to finally realize how wrong the situation was towards me. And I guess, what hurt the most wasn't the wound and glass shards. It was my broken trust and love I had for him. His love, or so I thought, dissipated. He never looked at me like he used to anymore. I was no longer enough for him.

I turn to look at the mirror again. My lips are quivering.

Ding!

I shake my thoughts away and shift my focus to my phone. It's Jamie. He says that he's 10 minutes away from my apartment.

I grab my light, breezy beach dress and quickly put it on over my bikini. I can't do this again. I'll have to be strong for Jamie this time. With one final big exhale and gulping my glass of water, I calm myself down.

____

Jamie is wearing a slick back ponytail that highlights his cheekbones and jawlines even more than usual. His black form-fitting T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up a little bit flatters along with it. He has a really particular fashion sense and it's always working for him.

"Guess what I brought?" he asks excitedly.

I look at the backseat. "A basket?"

"A picnic basket, darling. Oh, and a blanket too so we can sit together," he raises his eyebrows in glee.

"Jamie, these are wonderful!"

"I hope you like bagels, blueberry muffins and juice boxes. I'm sorry, I… I haven't done grocery shopping yet," he scratches the back of his head.

"Stop, it's perfect! I wished you would have told me though I could have brought something!"

"You brought yourself. That's enough for me," he turns to wink at me.

After all these times, I still get flustered whenever he does that. I immediately turn my head the other way to the window. I hear him chuckling silently and then turning up the music that's playing on the radio. The music fills the air. It's nice. It's an R&B song I haven't heard before which is now followed by a low humming following the tunes. The melody of his voice captures my attention. I catch myself smiling as I silently listen to him, enjoying his sweet, sort of raspy voice that tugs my heart in ways that I haven't experienced before. I stare at him in admiration as he starts singing. He looks so serene.

"What?" He notices and smiles back.

"You were singing. It's… lovely. I love it," I smile at him.

"Really?" He almost looks surprised at my compliment. "Y/n, you're so sweet. Thank you."

"You're very talented. I'd really like to see you sing and play your music sometime."

"Actually, I'd really like to show you something that I've been working on. It's still a work in progress by the way so go easy on me."

"I'd love to hear it," my heart jumps at the thought.

He turns to me and asks again, "Would you like for me to continue singing?"

"Please."

Jamie sings throughout the ride and the sound of his tender vocals sent me into a deeper state of peace. My body sinks deeper into my seat and my eyelids suddenly feel a lot more relaxed than usual. I haven't felt this relaxed in so long.

_____

I feel a warm hand gently touching my face. Almost like trying to move my hair away from my face.

"Hey, y/n. We're almost here."

Shit.

I sit upright immediately. "Jamie, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to fall asleep!"

He laughs. "You're absolutely fine. Look!" He points to my right.

I turn to look and my gaze is met with the beautiful blue ocean that fills the horizon as we drive down the road. The sun is almost setting and the sky is painted with breathtaking colours of orange and blue as the sunlight glistens around the clouds.

"Wow," is all I could say.

"I know." He exclaims back. "I gotta tell you though the view of you sleeping is a thousand times better than this."

I gasp and turns towards him. He's holding his laughter. "Shut up, Jamie!", his arm is met with a smack from me.

"Alright little beast, not too hard. I'm driving here," he chuckles.

I adjust myself and straighten up before Jamie pulls over to park near the beach. We step out of the car together as Jamie holds the picnic basket. The breeze coming from the ocean feels cooler the closer we walk towards it. Jamie is now spreading his arms apart to feel the breeze and just taking it all in. I suddenly notice that my dress starts waving with the wind too. l sense a little panic when I remember what is hiding underneath.

"Let's lay our stuff out there," he points towards a spot with a tree over it. A little further from the shore but close enough to have a good view of everything. The sun is setting and it's such a beautiful view. It's been a while since I've seen a view like this up close. I've missed this.

I pull out my phone and hand it over to Jamie. "Take a picture of me with the view!"

"Alright, go stand over there!" He starts taking photos and gives me directions on how to pose. Jamie even tells me to jump as he counts to three. I start laughing and tell him that I got everything I need.

"Nope. One more!" He runs towards me, puts his arm around my shoulders and holds my phone up for a selfie. He sticks his tongue out and takes the picture.

"No! I wasn't ready!" I try to grab my phone from him but he quickly snatches his hand away. He just smiles and looks at the screen.

"God, you look beautiful," he says and hands me the phone. His clear blue eyes looking down at me in admiration.

"Oh shut up," I shove him playfully to hide the warmth in my cheek.

He just chuckles and finally hands me my phone.

"Well come on, let's sit," he nods his head towards our laid out blanket on the sand.

We both sit and he starts opening up the picnic basket. "Alright, miss. Would you like to see the specials on the menu today?" he says in an amusing manner.

"Aahh yes the blueberry muffin, sir," I say, committing to his bit.

We laugh while we eat and chat as the sun is setting. Jamie's muffins are delicious. Apparently he actually baked it the day before but couldn't finish it so he brought them for me. Of course he also bakes. I look at him, wondering what else has he not told me about?

Everything feels right. The view of the beach. The crashing waves. The warm sand in our toes. Seeing children playing around with the sound of their laughter in the distance. I feel so at peace for the first time in a long time.

"I knew you needed this," he says as if he just read my mind.

"Hmm?"

"The beach. There's… something about it. When you step into one it's like nature's telling you that you need to slow down in life too. The chaos in our minds… just goes away," he says as he stares at the ocean.

I put my head on his shoulder. "Thank you. For this."

He lifts his arm and put it over my shoulder. I just wish this moment lasts forever. Yes, the beach is breathtakingly amazing. The colours of the sky is like a real life painting. However, what makes the moment perfect is Jamie. Being right here with me.

We stare at the sun setting real low as we lean on each other. After a while, I feel his shoulder starts shifting and I look up at him.

He looks at me and asks, "Would you like to swim for a bit?"

My body freezes again. I want to say something but I just start stuttering in my words.

"Hey, hey. What's wrong? Are you okay?" I hear him say as I try to control the tightness in my chest.

I try to control my breathing as much as I can before saying something. Jamie immediately notices my shaky hand clutching on my waist.

"Hey, hey, hey. You're okay. You're okay. Listen to me. You're safe," he keeps repeating in my ears while he holds me.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," is all I can say as I regain my breath control.

"Nothing is going to change the way I look at you. I promise," he calms me again in his low tone voice.

"I'm okay. I'm okay, I'm so sorry," are all the words that come out of me.

"No, don't you dare apologize for this. Look, we don't have to if you don't want to-"

"It's okay. I want to," I cut him off.

"Okay," he stands up and holds his hand out to take mine. I take his hand and pulls myself up.

"Can you… turn around first?" I ask him.

"Of course." He smiles and turns his back. I hear him taking off his shirt as I take mine off too. I take a deep breath for a minute to calm myself. Then, a tap on my shoulder.

"Are you ready?" He checks up on me.

I exhale. I look down to my waist and turn around slowly. I can't seem to find the courage to look up to his expression for the first time seeing me like this. I just can't and-

His fingers. I feel them on my chin.

Jamie lifts my face up to look at his. He beams like I have never seen him does before.

"You look fucking amazing," he smiles. Genuinely smiling.

"What?"

"You are smoking, y/n. That's what I'm saying."

I start laughing and then I feel the stream of tears falling down on my face. He then starts laughing with me as he gently wipes my tears away with his thumbs. I fall to his chest and feel his embrace. He likes me. I know that now.

"So you don't mind?" I ask.

"Nothing will ever change the way I see you."

Chapter 8 ______

Sorry I've been away from writing in a while but I'm finally back on my trip! I'm so glad I could continue this again and I hope you enjoy these really vulnerable moments in the chapter. I'm excited to continue again!

#jamie bower fanfic #jamie x reader #jamie bower x reader #jamie campbell x reader #jamie x female reader #jcb #jamie bower #jamie campbell bower #vecna #jamie x y/n #jamie bower x y/n #jamie campbell bower x y/n #jamie bower x female reader #jamie campbell bower x female reader #fanfic fluff #romance #artist #musician #jamie campbell bower x reader fluff

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hotspace39 · 6 months

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Writing suggestion for you: Deaky x reader, strictly fluff, maybe a little angst, but all in all, a happy ending. Also, reader is friends with the band, and maybe you could incorporate Freddie, Brian and Roger, all of them remarking how much reader and Deaky are in love. Idiots in love, basically.

This is almost too specific, but c'mon, we're mutuals.

Of course!!! Thank you for the request :)

Completely zoned off in the band’s rehearsal, I watched in awe as my boyfriend plucked the strings of his sunburst Squier bass, fingers moving somnambulant.

How did I get so lucky?

I mused silently, smiling absent-mindedly like a lovestruck idiot as I gazed at him: his long locks of wavy brown hair, his kind smile, his clever blue-grey eyes, his beautiful hands with those long, delicate fingers…

My daydreaming was rudely disturbed by a clamour of loud voices.

“Fred, you’re singing it wrong, it’s throwing my timing off!”

“Oh fuck off Roger” Freddie’s voice purred.

I looked up at the two having a spat. This was a common occurrence, no shock to me at this point. The two argued like brothers nearly every time I’d come along with John to these rehearsals. Sometimes Brian would join in, too - but never John. He preferred to sit and do his own thing.

“Oh quit it Roger, he’s singing it fine!” Brian chimed in. I lifted my head and couldn’t help but giggle slightly at the arguing. I personally thought they sounded great, but I didn’t know much about what they were going for. It all seemed quite experimental to me, different to what you’d hear on the radio.

John took the backseat for these arguments, never contributed. I understood, I didn’t like confrontation either. He had only joined the band a few months ago so he felt like the “new boy” still, but he had so much more that he could contribute to the band. I often tried to persuade him to push his ideas to the others - I thought they were brilliant - but he said no, he didn’t want to. Not yet.

I glanced at John to make sure he was doing okay. It took me a second to catch his attention, but when I did, he smiled at me. That beautiful smile. It lit up my whole world for a matter of seconds: like it was just me and him in this practise room. I found myself blushing, suddenly shy - as though we hadn’t been going out for two months at this point.

John spoke up - a rare occurrence. His voice was soft but firm.

“Why don’t we take a break for a few minutes, get a coffee? I think we’re all knackered right now and won’t agree on anything.”

The other three begrudgingly agreed and went off their separate ways, Freddie and Roger still bickering as they walked out the door. John closed the door after them and looked at me, mouth twitching to a smile. We both laughed. We often joked that his bandmates were like our kids, a group of toddlers with their constant bickering.

“Nothing changes with them, does it?”

I asked while sidling up towards him coolly, hiding the flutter of excitement in my stomach.

He shook his head and laughed.

“It’s the one thing you can bet on, these spats. Especially when it comes to Rog and Fred.”

I was right beside John at this point. I loved how I had to look up a little bit to see his face, I only came up to his shoulders. He looked down at me and smiled.

“Good thing I have you here to keep me sane.”

He muttered before bending down to give me a kiss. I smiled into the kiss as I closed my eyes, revelling in the soft touch of his lips. I let my tongue wander and hummed slightly, hinting that I wanted more.

John paused and drew back to look at me.

“But the guys will be here soon…”

I groaned, knowing he was right.

“I know. I just love you so much.”

John’s expression softened and he cupped my face in his hands, looking me in the eye with his pretty smile.

“I love you too.”

We stood like that, savouring every second, until the band walked in and we reluctantly pulled away from eachother. Brian was first in the door and just caught John’s hands grazing my face.

“Ah, the two lovebirds!”

He laughed softly, rolling his eyes playfully. Roger came in right after, hearing Brian’s comment.

“What were they up to? Hope it wasn’t anything too raunchy.”

He snickered.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous Roger!”

Freddie scolded like a cross mother as he sauntered into the room.

“You know these two, they only ever kiss and cuddle and hold hands around us. Bit boring, if you ask me.”

He joked, winking at me. I rolled my eyes playfully at him, giggling slightly. I’d always had a soft spot for the eccentric frontman.

“Right boys, let’s go!”

He announced. I checked my watch and retreated to my seat in the corner to watch the band again.

Only an hour, I told myself. An hour sounded like years to me, though. I needed to be close to John again. I missed his tender touch already, his soft whispers, his gentle manner.

The rehearsal went by much the same as it had before - evidently the “10 minute break” didn’t do much good for anyone. The bickering picked up where it left off, and John stayed silent. Not much playing was done with the amount of arguing going on, meaning John was just sitting with his bass on his lap for a good majority of the next hour. I tried to catch his eye, my brows furrowed, but he seemed to know that if he looked at me I’d silently encourage him to speak up. So he avoided my glance.

We said our goodbyes to his bandmates and didn’t say a word until we were in the car. The tension between us hung thick in the air. When we closed the doors and sat into the car, I turned to face John from the passenger seat.

“You need to speak up when they carry on like that. It’s unfair to you, their bickering means you just sit there and do nothing at all. It’s a waste of your time.”

“I knew you were going to say that!” He exclaimed. He took a deep breath and sat back into his carseat with a stony expression.

“I can’t.” He sighed and massaged his temples, as though he had a headache. I could see him tense his jaw and could almost feel the angst and anger in him bubbling to the surface.

He slammed a fist against the wheel of the car - not particularly hard; almost in an exhausted manner. I wasn’t afraid, I knew he wouldn’t lay a finger on me; it just made me upset to see him like this. He pushed his hair back, exasperated. I lay my hand gently on his shoulder, feeling the cool, soft suede of his brown jacket. He sighed.

“I know you’re just trying to help me. I get it. But… I’ll figure it out on my own. It’s not like me to barge in and start arguing, I just don’t function like that. Just… give me a while and I’ll figure it out.”

“I know. I was just afraid they were pushing you around. I hate that you barely even got to play there.”

He smiled at me weakly.

“I know you’re concerned for me, and I appreciate it. I just prefer to deal with these things by myself.”

I smiled sympathetically back at him.

“I’m sorry, I should know that by now.”

I laid my hand on his lap.

“I just worry ‘bout you Deacs, that’s all.”

He gave me a proper smile now, showing me that perfect gap-toothed grin of his that I loved, rolling his eyes playfully.

“I’ll have you know I can take care of myself quite sufficiently by now!”

I played along and adorned a doubtful expression.

“Really? Maybe you should do it more often then.”

We both laughed, any and all tension completely dissipated. I smiled, feeling warm and happy, hand on John’s lap, as we drove back to his flat.

#queen band fanfic #freddie mercury #john deacon #deacy #roger taylor #brian may #fluff #light angst

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quicksilverownsmysoul · 3 years

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Sugar Sugar 🎶

Based off an ask from @spider-starry who wanted me to write a sweet Colin fic filled with lots of love and kisses! You said sugar in the beginning of your ask and honey that is what inspired this! I hope you enjoy it!!

Colin was working late again for the fifth time this week so you decided to surprise him with dinner. You had stopped at his favorite Chinese place and ordered an ungodly amount of food. That way if Colin was too busy to eat with you you could just drop some off with him and go home and eat the other half while binge watching Brooklyn nine nine. (Colin had gotten you hooked on the show).

You pulled up to the station and noticed how dark it was, the only lights seemed to be coming from the main floor where Colin and Mare’s shared office was. As you got out of your car you saw Mare standing outside smoking, she gave you a nod, acknowledging your approaching form.

“Hey Mare.” You smiled at her, she let out a breath of smoke. She glanced down at the large bag in your hand. You followed her gaze and lifted it up so she could see it. “I bought Colin dinner.”

“That’s nice of you.” You stood looking at one another for a while, Mare cocked her eyebrow at you. “Aren’t you gonna call him so he can come down and get it?”

“Actually, I was hopping you could unlock the door for me, so I can go up and surprise him.”

“And why would I do that?”

“For love.” You cooed in a sweet voice, she just rolled her eyes at you giving you a small smirk.

“Nice try (y/n).”

“Fine.” You fished into your bag of takeout and took out one of the boxes. “I’ll trade ya this if you let me in.”

“What’s in it?”

“Orange chicken.”

“Gimme.” Mare held her hand out and you lightly tossed it towards her. She pushed herself off the wall and took out her keys.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah yeah.”

You heard the jingle of her keys again as she locked the door behind you. You gave her another grateful smile and she just rolled her eyes and waved goodbye as she headed home. You headed up the steps, carefully, making sure not to shake the food up too much. As you got closer to the top you could see light streaming down from the floor Colin was on.

You could also hear the soft melody of music, it was crackly and faded. You peaked around the corner when you got to the top, looking for Colin. You saw him in his office with the door cracked open. He was dancing back and forth in the little room as he worked. He’d pick up papers and do this little move while hanging it up on the large bulletin board. He was swaying his hips back and forth and signing along a loudly to the song on the radio. It was Sugar Sugar by the Archies. Your smile got wider the longer you watched him, the way he’d do a step and a skip, or twirl around and bob his head to the beat.

By now he was belting out the lyrics, by no means was he the best singer but he sang with so much passion it didn’t even matter. He danced over to the radio and turned it up louder, making the glass walls of his office shake. “Pour a little sugar on it honey! Pour a little sugar on it baby!” His work was long forgotten at this point, he was so into his performance, even changing his voice along with the singers. “Make your life so sweet, yeah yeah YEAH!”

You did you best to suppress your giggles, hiding your wide smile behind your hand. You didn’t want to give yourself away. His head was thrown back belting out the lyrics, he was completely immersed in the song, doing a shoulder shimmy that slowly got more intense as the song began to end.

You walked closer to his office, clapping. “Woo!” You cheered. He whipped around so fast he ended up knocking all the papers to the floor.

“(Y/n)!”

“I didn’t know you were such a good performer babe.” His face turned red at your words, he opened the door to his office wider so you could step in.

He rushed over to lower the radio and went to pick up his papers. He couldn’t meet your eyes. “When did you get here?”

“A couple minutes ago.” He flushed even more at the realization you had seen his whole performance. “I came to bring you dinner.” You placed the bag down on his desk and turned towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning up to kiss him. He melted into your touch.

“You didn’t have to that.” He said, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Melting at the sweet action

“I wanted to. You’ve been staying so late lately and haven’t had a full meal in a while.” You tangled your fingers through his hair, trailing your fingers along his neck making him shiver. You pressed a kiss behind his ear. “Plus a performance like that deserves a treat.” You giggled as he let out an embarrassed groan and pressed his face closer into your neck.

“I can’t believe you saw me. I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be I thought it was cute.” You felt him smile against your skin. He lifted his face up a small smirk evident on his lips, he pulled away and went over to the radio. You looked at him wondering what he was up to. He turned the radio back up, the song I can’t help myself was now playing. He started to hum along to the song, and snap to the beat, rocking himself back and forth.

“What are you doing?” You laughed out.

He smiled at you, inching his way closer. “Dance with me (y/n)”

“What?” He surged forward and pulled you into his arms, causing you to let out a surprised squeak.

His eyes locked onto yours as he began to sing to the first line. “Ooo Sugar pie honey bunch. You know that I love you.” His face scrunched up and he leaned close to give you a Eskimo kiss. He pulled back and spun you away from him, your hands still holding on to one another. He shimmed his shoulders and you did the same making him laugh with joy. He continued on with the song. “When you snap your finger or wink your eye I come running to you.” He winked at you and pulled you back into him, twirling you. He now had his chest pressed against your back, arms warped around your own, almost like a hug. He rocked you two side to side, singing softly in your ear. “I’m tied to you baby, and there’s nothing I can do~” He nipped playfully at your ear and you turned around in his arms to playfully smack his chest.

He let out a hearty laugh, you pulled him down to your level and pressed your lips to his. He smiled into your kiss, you cupped his face in your hand, feeling his skin turn warmer by the second.

*******************************************************

Mare had made it about halfway home before you spun on her heel and headed back towards the station. She unlocked the door and took the steps two at a time, yelling up. “Hey Colin I-“ Mare stopped herself as she reached the top of the steps.

She had come back to the station after realizing that she had left one of her files in her office. She expected to see you and Colin eating takeout and watching one of those cheesy tv shows that you guys were so obsessed with. What she didn’t expect was to see you guys dancing with one another in their office with the lights dimmed.

Colin had his hand resting on your lower back and you had yours on his shoulder, laying your head on his chest. You both had your eyes closed as you swayed together, Colin singing softly to the song on the radio. It’s sweet melody making the whole station sing.

Mare watched you two for a moment, a soft smile on her face. After a moment she shook her head slightly, as if willing her face to go back to its usual disinterested frown. She pursed her lips, she really didn’t have to get the file from her office tonight, it would still be there in the morning. She turned to head back down the stairs a smile trying to fight it’s way back into her face as she headed back home, leaving you and Colin alone in their office. Dancing slowly under the glowing light of the stars, falling impossibly more in love with one another

All I wanna do is dance with Colin in his office is that too much to ask??? 😭😭

#colin zabel fanfiction #colin zabel #Colin Zabel fluff #colin zabel mare of easttown #colin mare of easttown #mare of easttown colin zabel #mare of easttown fanfiction #Colin Zabel x reader #evanpetersedit #evan peters #evan peters x reader #Evan peters fluff #evan peters fanfiction #fanfiction asks #mare of easttown

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dingdonghyvck · 3 years

Text

The Only Exception || Lee Haechan x Reader

Summary: You finally realize that Haechan’s the only exception to the one rule you gave yourself.

Genre: Angst and a little bit of Fluff

Pairing/s: Drummer!Haechan x Lead Vocalist!Reader, Minor College Student!Mark x Reader

Warnings: Explicit content, mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts, implications of sex, sex jokes, use of drugs, cigarettes and alcohol, verbal and physical abuse, divorce, and a few others I probably forgot to mention

Word Count: 5.4k words

So this is part two of the Drummer!Haechan AU I wrote: Still Into You

Please do give feedback, it’s greatly appreciated! Thank you and enjoy :)

"When I was younger I saw my daddy cry and curse at the wind.

He broke his own heart and I watched as he tried to reassemble it.

And my momma swore that she would never let herself forget”

It all started with hushed arguments, hidden whispers of disappointment behind closed doors, afraid of breaking the perfect image your family had, afraid of the neighbors to talk. From hushed arguments to daily endeavors of avoiding each other everyday, it was like a ticking bomb inside your home. A ticking bomb you had tip-toed over each morning past your parents' bedroom, hearing the muffled crying. You knew it was only a matter of time before the bomb would finally explode, imploding your house from inside-out.

You hoped and you prayed to any god willing to listen that the rumors were not true. The neighbors started talking and the news had somehow got out. And that was when everything started breaking down. The hushed arguments turned to wars of screaming and crying, sharp words that cut through you like a knife. That was when the walls of your home began to talk, they spoke to you too, they echoed the hatred your parents had for each other. They made you feel unwanted, unloved and useless, since of course the sole foundation of your life was crumbling. You were the scars, bruises, and pain they brought into the world, you were once proof of their love that turned into a ghost wandering the halls, desperately clawing against the wallpaper to make it all stop.

It didn't end with words, it seemed as if words weren't hurtful enough. You were caught in the crossfire, desperately trying to raise the white flag between the two, but you ended up becoming their stress ball. They would sometimes drown you, lock you up in the basement or straight up hit you. They kept squeezing you and throwing you around like a stress ball bound to burst, the people at school began noticing the bruises and cuts. In the end they left you alone, vacant and ignored since you began bringing your friends over your house.

And for the first time in a while you felt safe, you felt safe in Jeno's comforting smile when he tried to teach you guitar. You felt safe with Hendery's little pranks and teasing during practices. You felt safe in Donghyuck's presence whenever you two would head out after band practice, in his car with no particular destination in mind. The nights were long, but somehow it always ended too quickly for you. You wished you could stay for an eternity inside Donghyuck's car, it was a place where you didn't bother to be someone else except yourself.

It was a space where you weren't either the whore's daughter or the useless excuse of a student. You were just authentically you and Donghyuck openly accepted you, he didn't say it but you knew he did. He didn't talk whenever you didn't feel like it, he opened the car window when you wanted to watch the stoplights and streetlight wiz by. That's what made those nights perfect, it was Donghyuck's soft humming along the mediocre pop song on the radio. His weirdly specific defensive monologue whenever you brought up his tacky lavender car scent. Donghyuck's presence in general as he would sometimes just hold your hand while you thought to yourself.

One of those nights where you thought to yourself that life should always be like this, you didn't know how, but you knew that Donghyuck has to be apart of it. You decided that the world may go to shit, your parents may end up getting a divorce, you may end up living the rest of your life as a deadbeat. But you no longer cared as long as you had this place, in a worn out car seat next to him; well that was what you thought at least.

"And that was the day that I promised,

I'd never sing of love if it does not exist"

Donghyuck's sudden departure from the band shocked both Jeno and Hendery, they took it considerably well in all honesty. They still wanted to continue on with the band, partly because they needed the money from the gigs and mostly because they worried for you as a friend. You tried your best in trying to continue with your life and look for another drummer, for another Donghyuck in your life. As silly as it sounded since you were the one that pushed him away, you would think of him most days. You were only realizing how important Donghyuck was in your life.

He was always the one who took care of you, reminded you to eat and rest whenever you forgot. He would show up at your dorm to bring you breakfast or make you coffee, remind you that some of the books you borrowed from the library was due tomorrow, or even just chat you to check on how your day was going. Now that you had changed your number and avoided him like a plague you were starting to realize how much you lost.

And you had thought of calling him, or maybe reaching out to ask how his day was going, the same way he used to check on you. You were so tempted that you showed up at his place, a second away from buzzing his doorbell, but you remembered. You remembered how awful you were to him, you were reminded of the pain and misery you've caused him all through out your lives so far. You were being selfish yet again, so you stopped yourself. You immediately turned around that day and called up Hendery and Jeno to tell them that the band was over, you didn't have the guts to face them anymore.

The guilt was eating you alive, they had tried to convince you otherwise but you pushed them away too. The only person who you kept in your life was Mark. You still felt happy to be around him, although you didn't feel comfortable since you felt like you had to keep a facade around him. He seemed glad to see you more often, you'd cling onto him like a flee for days. But there came a time when he finally asked why you were so vacant these days, and where were your other friends; it was an argument caused by Mark's growing irritation for being required to see you everyday and almost having to babysit you like child, all the while trying to keep up with other activities going on his life. You had left him without a single word and returned the next day like nothing happened.

He genuinely did like you, he wished things were different but he couldn't handle the nonstop texts and calls that came from you every minute of the hour, he was beginning to get sick of it. And you immediately notice his distaste, the way he would dryly reply to your messages or not talk to you whenever he did have time to see you. You knew you were becoming a bit too much for him, desperate for company that you became too overbearing, a bit too possessive and selfish when it came to his time.

And for the first time, you felt it. You felt how your heart sunk everytime Mark chose to answer a call from a friend when you were talking to him, the way he would look anywhere else but you whenever you tried to start conversations. You were usually on the other end of the stick, careless of other people’s emotions and too busy living in your own world. You finally knew what it felt when Donghyuck dated you, and what horrible thoughts that came with it. In the end, you knew that Mark was too kind to end it with you, he obviously knew you were having issues in your personal life, but he couldn't be bothered anymore; he's tried talking to you about it, but you'd always change the topic.

So you told yourself that it was better if you would be alone for now, this is the tenfold of misery and hurt you've caused everyone around you, especially Donghyuck, your world was falling apart as more and more people left. You eventually ended things with Mark, and he gave you a simple okay and left. He didn't seem to notice you anymore, he continued to live his university life unscathed, it was as if you two never spoke in the first place.

He would sometimes smile at you or give you a small nod of his head whenever you saw each other around campus, but that was the most you've gotten from him. You didn't blame him, he didn't have time to waste with people like you. Being alone with your thoughts truly was eating you alive, you were beginning to go insane. Everytime you were about to reach out to anyone, either Jeno, Hendery, or Donghyuck, you'd always stop yourself to remind you that you deserved this.

You deserved to be alone, you cannot be loved. You were a heartless monster just as Donghyuck said and you lived most of your days alone while trying to survive with the little funds your new part time provided. You didn't know how, but you somehow lived as days went by. You watched the leaves and flowers bloom from the branches outside of your dorm till they wilted. It was now winter, and you freely wandered the streets. No other human could be seen outside, everyone was probably spending time with loved ones, since of course it was the holidays.

Days you should be spending with the people you cherish and loved the most, you could see the warm lights from within some of the homes, laughter resonates through the walls, probably the lovers and families enjoying their own company. Playing dumb board games and cuddled up by the fire, watching the grinch movies with eggnog and warm cups of hot choco. You never really understood the joys of the holidays, probably because the only other person you had spent it was with Donghyuck, and there you go thinking of him again.

As if thinking of him in everything you do wasn't enough, he began appearing in your dreams. You didn't know if it was pleasant to revisit old memories or did it hurt to reminisce what was lost between you two. And as much as it hurt you chose to remember him as someone you loved, perhaps not romantically, but he was someone you truly cherished. You thought that he'd comment on how cheesy you've become, so melodramatic that you'd give William Shakespear a run for his money when he's already in his grave.

You bitterly laugh at the thought, the cold makes your throat dry and eyes watery but you look up to the moon while standing next to a lamp post near the frozen river. You could almost feel his presence, you truly were going insane that you started imagining things he'd say to you at times like this. The snarky comments and cute pet names he'd give you whenever you dragged him along for whatever adventure you had in mind. You remembered how he'd first complain about it to no end, but he always ends up coming with you. He always does, of course, he's Donghyuck, the person who stuck with you through thick and thin; the person you've hurt the most.

You begin humming a small tune, you didn't recognize it at first, but you ended up humming a paramore song. The song you both listened to during class the first day you two met, the same song that you sang here, with tears streaming down you cheeks. You didn't know you were crying until you felt the cold gust of wind brushing against your cheeks, a chill running down your spine as you sniffled.

"I hope you're happy now Hyuck, wherever you are," it felt weird to speak, you couldn't remember the last time you opened your mouth to say anything. it's been months since you've last said a word to anyone, you throat was dry and you could barely recognize your own voice, it was raspier than you last remembered.

"I'm happy enough to know we're looking at the same moon tonight at least." you laughed, your throat hurts like hell, the laugh came as a croak and you tried to gasp in air to try and stop yourself from breaking down.

It felt weird to listen to your own voice, everything felt unreal. These past few months were like a fever dream to you, you even wondered if you were dead and this was some cruel purgatory you served for the shit you pulled back then. You've thought about jumping into the frozen river, maybe the cold would at least wake you up if this was truly some cruel nightmare. If not it could also finally end all the suffering and pain you know you caused yourself, what hurt most was you cannot blame anyone else for what is happening now. You shakily let out a breath, hands gripping the metal railing. You were about to jump over it when the street's fairy lights were suddenly turned on and it reflected off the thin layer of ice of the lake.

You wake up from your daze, what the hell were you thinking? The pretty lights distracted you for a moment, you pace your breathing with the consistent flicker of the warm glow of the tiny lights, trying to calm down.

"And I've always lived like this,

keeping a comfortable distance"

senior year, prom.

You bit your lip while watching the fairy lights flicker, whose idea was it to have tiny light bulbs as decoration for the photo booth, and god you wanted to give them a kiss now. It was such a hazard that you couldn't stop thinking of the endless possible drama it could cause, the prom queen could end up stepping on it and light her dress on fire, that would at least make the night interesting. You blew the tiny patch of fake snow off the table while you grumpily waited for someone, anyone, to step on one of the fairy lights, but you were dragged out of your reverie when you hear Donghyuck's voice behind you.

"Hey ugly,"

"Hey stupid," you replied, eyes shifting away from the photo booth for a second to look at him. He stuck out like a sore thumb, he wasn't wearing a tuxedo like the rest, or even a tie to at least try and be formal. He was sporting his favorite leather jacket with a green untucked button up underneath, he looked underdressed, the only effort he made to his appearance was the way he styled his hair to showcase his forehead.

"That's not a nice way to speak to your boyfriend" Donghyuck faked a gasp, dragging a chair to sit down beside you, you raised an eyebrow at him. The stupid crease on his jacket annoyed you to no end, so you fixed it for him, it was his turn to raise an eyebrow at you.

"Boyfriend? I thought boyfriends put in extra efforts for prom? You know like in the movies, they give the girl a cute corsage and tell them how pretty they look and end up fucking in the bathroom or something?"

"You're beautiful." He says it blatantly, you stop to look him in the eyes, and it seemed genuine. You pursed your lips while trying to hide your smile, boyfriend Donghyuck was different from best friend Donghyuck, he was a lot... sweeter.

"Let's fuck in the bathroom later?" he added, to which you groaned and slapped his thigh. He only laughed at you while gently fitting his hand into yours, gently kissing your knuckles when you swore you were gonna bite his dick someday, just he wait.

Well you'll give him credit, he at least made an effort to look nice for you. You didn't even bother to blow dry your hair today and you were wearing what you'd usually wear whenever you went out with him, just with a bit more grunge added, like black fishnet stockings. He wasn't complaining at all, he knew that whatever you were wearing tonight would end up ripped anyway, probably somewhere on his bedroom floor. And plus, you two didn't really attend prom, the only reason you bothered to this year was for the battle of the bands.

You were already done with the performance so you were all simply waiting for the announcement of the winner. You knew Jeno was probably out on the dance floor dancing with his date in a proper suit and tie like a gentleman, but you had no idea where Hendery went. One second he said he was going to get you a drink, the next he's disappeared before you into thin air. So you were left with Donghyuck, who was currently playing with your rings. As weird as it felt to have a label between you two, nothing's changed. You thought that you'd feel more awkward towards him, but the only thing that changed was the label, and you were happy in a way.

"Wanna dance?"

You perk up at his question, you finally realize that a slow song was playing. Everyone was paired off in front of you, even some of the teachers were dancing. You almost let out a laugh at the sight of some of couples who were trying their best to keep it in their pants. You thought he was joking until you looked over at him, he was shyly fiddling with his own hands now, not able to look you in the eyes. You would laugh if it weren't for the way he seemed so shy to ask, he looked like he was about to combust.

"I don't dance," you laughed, he looks up at you. You didn't know it was possible but he looked much more embarrassed now, it was cute it in a way.

"Let's get out of here?"

"Now that's more like it" you smirk, taking his hand to lead him outside of the gymnasium and to his car. He didn't bother to fight it, he just simply let you drag him out to the parking lot.

He opens the car door for you and you played along, deciding to not tease him just this once since, of course, he was already red enough. He turns on the engine and you switch through different channels on the radio, finally settling on one when he pulls out of the driveway.

“And up until now I had sworn to myself that I'm content with loneliness.

Because none of it was ever worth the risk.”

The song on the radio hummed in the background as he drove as carefully as he could, the roads were iced and it wasn't very safe to drive right now. He was about to take the turn to his house but you stop him and told him to bring you to the center of town, he was unsure why the sudden request, but he follows your directions anyway. For the moment, you stared at his face. The way the streetlights lit up his skin, you rarely saw his forehead and it did make him look attractive. Well he was already attractive in the first place but you couldn’t help but observe��the way he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel to the song’s beat, it looked instinctive and natural to him.

"So are you finally going to murder me and take my intestines to sell on the black market?" he spoke, and you laughed, throwing your head back; he was finally starting to look handsome to you, and he opens that damned mouth of his.

"Kidneys my darling! Your kidneys will be worth a fortune!" you giggled while leaning over the center console to kiss his cheek, he smiled at the sound of your laughter.

He takes you exactly where you asked him, the center of the town. The exact intersection that’s considered as the heart of your buzzing neighborhood. The exact intersection that usually had so many cars, always the cause of traffic and delay, was now completely empty. All the stores near the intersect were closed, no other person in sight but the stoplights continued to operate. The colors red, yellow, and green appearing in an ordered sequence, proportionally timed. Although there wasn't a single car in sight, Donghyuck stopped when the light turned red.

"What are you waiting for?" you asked in confusion, he shrugs.

"Can you tell me why we're here?"

You didn't bother to speak, you simply got out of the car and stood at the center of the intersection. You opened your arms up to him and he watched you curiously, you let out a boisterous laugh, spinning around your heel. You forgot that the road was slippery so you fell flat on your back, still laughing. Donghyuck runs out of his car to kneel beside you, he had a worried look to him but it immediately faded away when you looked at him with joy in your eyes.

He scoffed, not forgetting to comment on how stupid you looked before offering his hand to help you stand up. You take his hand but instead of sitting up, you pull him towards you and he slips, ending up toppled over you. His breathing was uneven as it brushed cooly against your cheek, you close your eyes at the feeling. He gently kissed your cheek after a minute, finally standing up to brush himself off. You were still lying down on the ground, flailing your arms around to try and form a snow angel.

"Are you dumb? Get up before we get run over" Donghyuck tried to sound angry, but he couldn't stop the lilt in his voice, a tiny chuckles escapes his mouth.

"Shut up already and just lie down! Why do you always ruin the moment?” you whined looking up at him, still spread eagle at the center of the intersect, he raised an eyebrow at you, it was becoming a habit to him.

“Don’t you feel it too? The world’s stopped, they’ve finally shut up! So enjoy it and come lie down with me.”

“And if we get run over?”

“Then so be it” You shrugged, Donghyuck lets out a heavy sigh before taking his seat beside you. He doesn’t lie down, so you sit up to lean against his shoulder.

And the world stops, like what you said. For a moment the only thing you two could hear was the sound of your breathing and the beating of your hearts, he held your hand in his while you both watched the stoplight change colors. It felt like you two were the only people on earth, and it was the best. There was nothing but the moon, your thoughts, the stoplight, and him. And as peaceful as it was you couldn’t stop the thought from spilling from your mouth.

“Someday I’ll burn this town to the ground” you comment, and he snorts.

“Gee, it sure sounds like a solid plan” he says it sarcastically, and you turn to look at him.

“I’m serious! You better not get in my way or anything or else I’ll have to set you on fire” you say it with the most serious tone that he’s taken aback, well that was one weird thought he thought.

His face makes you laugh and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to laugh with you. He shook his head when he realized you were joking, probably. You felt content and happy that you decided to grant him one wish. He once again has the confused face he had earlier, just when he was finally settled you suddenly move. He tries to stand up to follow you, but you told him that you’ll be back.

He watched you open the driver’s side of the car, he thought you were about to drive away and leave him here but he was abruptly stopped mid-thought when the speakers of the radio of his car boomed throughout the empty streets. His eyes widened, he was worried that it might wake the whole street up. Then he remembered that the residential homes were located near the outskirts of town, so it was unlikely that anyone would hear. Most of this area had shops and stores, so the people are probably back at home, you both aren’t technically disturbing anyone hopefully. He relaxes back into his seat to watch you waltz back towards him.

“So?” you asked, the smile on your face was infectious.

“So?” he mimicked dumbly and you rolled your eyes in annoyance, was he always this dumb?

“May I have this dance?” you groaned, turning red yourself. You blamed it on the cold, but he couldn’t help but laugh at you. At first it sounded like he was mocking you, but when you met his eyes to smack him on the head you were only met with eyes filled with so much endearment and affection that you could only pull back your hand.

He takes your hand to stand up, you complain of course, he was heavy. But he hushed you when he placed his fingers to your chapped lips, he smiled so widely that it looked like it hurt. You pursed your lips, wrapping your arms around his neck and he securely holds your waist. Although the atmosphere was supposed to be romantic, your terrible sense of rhythm in dancing ruined it. You would think that you’d be good at following the rhythm when dancing being a couple of musicians, but you both always missed a beat by a second. And he could only laugh while you cursed, finally remembering why you never danced.

You were muttering something under you breath, but your voice hitched when he brushes his fingers against your hair. He placed a sweet kiss to your temple and you freeze, you felt your heart clench at the action. He begins whispering the lyrics to your ear, you swallow thickly. This was one of the rare times he’d sing to you, you tried to tell him countless times that his voice was beautiful, but he had always denied saying yours was better. But hearing him now, whispering softly against your ear while he nuzzled his nose to your neck affectionately made your heart throb. You take in a deep breath, this feeling in your chest, it was your heart clenching. You didn’t know if he was hurting you but you were so overwhelmed that you suddenly pushed him away.

“Did I do something wrong?” his eyes spoke, trying to reach out to you again but you take another step backward.

“This was a stupid idea” You were shocked to hear your voice crack, Donghyuck frowns at your comment.

“What do you mean?”

“Take me home.... now.”

He tried to take a step towards you but you run back towards his car, closing the door to wait for him. You lower the volume of the radio and try to gather your thoughts, what the fuck was that? You watched him walk back towards the car and swore to yourself, whatever the hell you felt earlier, whatever he did to you, he will never be able to do again. It was too much of a risk, and you swore to yourself to never let yourself be that vulnerable again.

He tries to talk to you on the way home, but your replies were dry. You were busy fiddling with your fingers while looking outside the window. He tried his best to make you tell him what he did wrong but he couldn’t get another word out from you the moment he pulled up in front of your house. You were about to leave but you decided to try and turn things around, you tried to get back to what you two were used to.

You kissed him, hauling yourself over the center console to sit on his lap. He tries to pull away but you continued to kiss, hastily lifting his shirt to try and remove it. In the end he was weak to your touch, he could never deny you of anything. He hoped that you two could talk it out in the morning but you were unavailable the next few weeks after that, busy fooling around with Johnny.

“I've got a tight grip on reality but I can't let go of what's in front of me here.

I know you're leaving in the morning when you wake up, leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream”

Present day.

The next day you decided to visit your home town. Although you didn’t have any family left to visit, you had volunteered to play at an orphanage, it was the least you could do for the holidays. If you couldn’t be happy, you could at least make others feel it. Who knew that Jeno’s stupid guitar lessons would end up becoming an asset to you, you could at least spread a little joy to the children who didn’t have parents, you somehow understood how they felt, in a weird way.

It was a joy to finally sing with a purpose again, hearing them laugh and sing along with you made your heart sore. Well at least you didn’t feel as useless after playing with a few of the kids and chatting with the caretakers and other volunteers. It felt freeing, to finally do something right. You fucked up this year for the most of it but you felt a bit less burdened when the children asked you to braid their hair or took your hand to dance with them. After serving your purpose at the orphanage you find yourself at the intersection. You don’t know what you wanted to accomplish, but your feet ended up taking you here.

And as expected it was filled with bustling life, people going in and out of shops to buy late christmas presents, children building snowmen and riding the tiny slopes made by the snow. The traffic as usual was heavy, the cars were honking and the streets were so noisy that no one could bearly hear themselves think. You sat by a bench near the park, the intersect still in your sight. You were eating a bagel mindlessly when a little kid sat beside you, he was eyeing your guitar.

“You play?” the little kid asked and you nodded, giving him a small smile to not scare him away, you probably looked like a walking corpse; you can’t remember the last time you slept properly.

“A little bit, like five songs?” you smiled and he instantly asks you to play, there was this urgency in his voice that you couldn’t help but immediately do what he was asking.

You bite into the bagel while tuning your guitar, thinking of a song to play, well out of the five you knew how to play. You began strumming the guitar to Paramore’s The Only Exception, humming the tune as best as you could with the bagel in your mouth. You end your humming after the first chorus to be met with a grimace, the little kid laughed at you.

“You’re no good”

“Hey!” you take out the bagel from your mouth to yell jokingly at him, he scrunches his nose up when you ruffle his hair and you laugh at his annoyed face, he somehow looked familiar, was he one of the kids from the orphanage? Wait were they even allowed to leave the orphanage?

“So what’s your name?” You ask, putting the guitar back into its case. The voice that meets your ears wasn’t the little boy’s, it was a voice you haven’t heard in a long time, a voice you thought you’d never hear again.

“Dongsuk,”

This has to be a dream, it couldn’t be real. You blink a few times before pinching yourself, you were probably hallucinating. Because there is no way, not a chance the Lee Donghyuck was now standing in front of you. That shit only happens in movies, this can’t be real. But you could only rub your eyes so much, he looked real, like real enough that he was getting closer to you. And he finally speaks, and you finally realize it really is him in the flesh.

“Where have you been?” he speaks, you first thought that he was talking to you but he grabs the little boy’s arm. He glances at you and you try to speak and he simply turns his nose away from you, you feel your world crack in half.

To his defense you were the one who moved dorms, changed your number, and avoided him like a plague. So his reaction was expected, you don’t know why you were so surprised. He was about to walk away when you finally speak, he stops cold in his steps when he hears your voice.

“Donghyuck...” He turns to look at you, and his eyes were still the same. It still had the same hurt and sadness you’d usually see when he looked at you, but he looked much more angrier than you remembered.

“Let’s... talk”

“You are the only exception, oh and I'm on my way to believing.”

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paperstarwriters · 3 years

Text

Mercury?

This is terribly written and I am so sorry for that. I barely edited this and it shows. I just wanted the Autobots to learn about Bohemian Rhapsody is that so bad?

——————————————————

It was a peaceful day. Megatron and his Decepticons were currently off of their radar for the time being, but that didn't mean that they could be lax. Peace never lasted long. For war torn veterans of war, peace was to be cherished, not squandered. For children who felt more entertained at being put at danger than they did afraid, peace was "Boring", and they sought to make that evidently clear to everyone in the room.

Ah, correction. She.

Jack and Raf were sensible enough to be weary whenever the Deceptions reared their collective heads around. Miko however often acted as if she could fight Primus himself with nothing more than a screwdriver. Miko liked to brag that she'd do it with her bare hands. They hadn't believed her for a good while, until she tried to threaten Megatron during their weary truce. Ratchet argued that it still made him anxious every time he saw Miko run off somewhere, no matter how mundane, and most of the team was inclined to agree. Wheeljack was regarded as a different case entirely.

Now, Miko wasn't so cruel as to beg fate to send a Deception attack their way. She did, in her own way, appreciate peace. Just not the peace that they wanted. Because of this, Miko often brought the odd item to the base. Her guitar and sound system, a video game for the TV. Miko bringing in a new toy was almost expected whenever peace stretched on for longer than an hour.

"Looooook what I got!!" Miko cheered slinging herself out of Bulkhead's seat, holding a large and clunky looking box with her. For all they knew, she could be holding a small bomb, but by Jack and Raf's unimpressed reactions it didn’t' seem to be anything too troubling.

"Geez, that thing looks ancient, where'd you get it from?" Jack asked, pressing on the buttons of the box tentatively. "Besides, we have the bots for that don't we? Or, well you guys do."

Miko scoffed rolling her eyes. "Oh come on Jack. It’s a boom box! It's a part of the aesthetic!!"

Bulkhead, who listened in more blatantly than the others, cast a weary glance to the 'boom box' in question. "Uh, Miko, you still haven't told me what that thing does…"

"It's like a radio, the kind you guys have, only bigger and clunkier." Raf explained. "Where did you get it?

At this Miko puffed up her chest proudly brandishing the box over her shoulder. "Ms. Fairfax was cleaning some stuff out, and guess who just so happened to be there after school to collect this beauty!"

Jack rolled his eyes though he grinned while he did. "You were only there because you were in detention."  

Miko stuck out her tongue. "That doesn’t matter. What matters is that now, I've got this!"

Hitting a button on the box Miko opened a compartment and retrieved a smaller box from within the boom box. This thing was flatter and telling by Jack's reaction, no more impressive than the boom box. At this point, however, Miko's chaos seemed to garner everyone's attention, and even Optimus who was busy at the base's main computers, leaned in a little to see what was going on.

"A cassette?" Raf asked, perhaps for the sake of their audience.

"Not just any cassette!"

Miko put the cassette back into the box, and hit another button. There was a weighty silence which should have been filled with Optimus' typing and Ratchet's tinkering, and whatever else anyone was pretending to do while they listened. And then a voice began to sing And then a song began to play

 Raf and Jack spared a glance to one another, and grinned.

Since their enlistment in the team, the humans have given the bots a very in depth lesson on different types of music. Miko did most often, but Raf also introduced Ratchet to his 'study playlist', filled with classical earth music that Raf said helped him concentrate. Ratchet shrugged at the offer made a comment about 'limited earth technology', then proceeded to play the entire playlist on loop deep into the night, as he worked away with Optimus by his side. Jack offered his own tastes with Arcee and Bee, a playlist of some popular songs, or even some that he admitted were lesser known. There were some that had a very valiant theme, and when Bee and Arcee raced they'd sometimes use Jack's music to race to. Even agent Fowler gave his own few songs that he enjoyed, though the lyrics were rather off putting to most of the team.

One clear lesson that the bots took from it all was that music tastes varied, and what might be popular to one, was bizarre and unknown to another—even among humans. Jack and Raf knew popular local songs, but miko did not. Jack knew more 'pop' songs than Raf did, and Raf knew more classical music. Amidst the three it was long deemed impossible for them to all know a song without having to teach the others before hand.

And yet.

Miko started as soon as the music began to play, nearly yelling all the lyrics to the song, before Raf and Jack joined in enthusiastically. It was jarring, a rather slow paced song, treated with such fervor and excitement from the three. Ratchet groaned at the noise, returning to his work, but he did not ask them to stop. On the other hand (with the exception of Optimus who simply smiled as he continued to listen and to work), most of the team had given up on pretending and approached the three singers as an audience. The lyrics were filled with meaning that twisted the children's faces into a dramatic agony while the guitar picked up. Miko nailed the solo, on her air guitar her hands moving with less of her usual overdramatic flash, and with a flare as if she were holding the guitar, and had memorized every chord. Jack and Raf bashed at the air, a trick foreign to Bee and Arcee, but known as 'air drums' to the resident air drumming star, Bulkhead.

The song took a drastic switch from melodramatic, to a more playful piano melody, and a lot of nonsensical words that the children never sang at precisely the right moment. Many parts of the song sounded like a conversation, but they could never decide who was speaking first and who spoke second. And then, after a high note that Miko almost hit, it erupted into a rock style burst, and the kids had at it, with headbanging, careless air guitars and air drums. The energy was infectious, and those who had taken the front row seats, danced about with the others for what was a surprisingly short rock moment.

The song mellowed out all over again and the kids sang it out dutifully until the very end marked by a crash that Miko mimicked while Raf air played the instrument.

For such a bizarre mix of music from slow to fast to slow again, the bots caught themselves on various occasions humming and nodding their head to the song. On occasion, if the kids weren’t around with their own music, Bulkhead would play the song from his speakers. Sometimes Arcee would sing a line or two, and if Bee was around, all three of them would end up half muttering and half singing the song. Bee and Bulkhead usually tried to sing with the same kind of fervor that the kids had. Sometimes even Ratchet complained that he had the song stuck in his head. It didn't stop him from tapping his pede whenever Bulkhead played it.

On one rare day with Optimus on curbside duty, he had the chance to see just how many humans knew the song. Miko was playing it loud on her boom box, and a small crowd of eagerly dramatic singers followed her and her music. Yet, that wasn’t all. Kids on the sidelines sang idly along, even as some worked away at homework. Optimus patiently waited for the song to finish, and when he did, he opened his door and let the kids in.

They told adamant tales about how the song could be sung with near perfection by a sea of people and how besides a country's national anthem, this was the rare song that everyone seemed to know. There were others of course, but that depended on the place, generation, and community. None apparently reached as far as Freddie Mercury's Rhapsody. Truly the final nail in the coffin was when Bulkhead was playing the song, the kids humming along, having long forgone singing every time it came on, and Agent Fowler walked in. He looked like he was about to bark about something, only to stop as he noted the song. Clearly, whatever it was was not so important if he could be so easily swayed.  

Optimus asked him about the song, and if he knew it, and Fowler took (what Optimus now understood was) mock offence and told Bulkhead to turn it up. Agent fowler sung the remaining song brilliantly, getting the kids to join in with him as well. Fowler even hit the high note which earned a pat on the back which may as well have been a shove from Miko.

From then on, Optimus put effort into learning the song.

He quickly understood that his deep voice would not be able to reach the high note, but he put in effort on the rest of the song, to the point that he knew the song by heart. He appreciated the lyrics, finding them both odd and sympathetic at the same time, which he told Ratchet when he responded to his idle humming of the song with a muttered singing of all of the lyrics. Ratchet still stared at him oddly for it.

With Optimus followed Bulkhead, and Bee, and reluctantly, Arcee. Even more reluctantly so, Ratchet, who on another night of working away, asked Optimus for the lyrics to the song. He handed them over without question or comment, but Ratchet still avoided his gaze days later.

So, it was no wonder, that nearly a month later, after Miko had gained a collection of songs for her boom box, that when the song played again, the whole team broke out into song. Uneven, wonky song where they sometimes stumbled over who was singing what, but they sang it nonetheless, too caught up in the melody to notice that the kids had stopped to stare at them. They sung as they worked, nonchalantly for some and with playful vigour for others. When they did realize that they hadn't sung, the gong had already sounded.

"No way." Miko hissed, eyeing both Optimus and Ratchet. Optimus stood proud as ever, while in contrast Ratchet avoided eye contact.

And they played the song again, arguing that they wanted to sing with them. It was the most horrible and amazing experience they all shared together singing the song terribly whenever it came on. It was fun and silly, and planted firmly in everyone's processor to teach their friends the song as soon as they could.

The next day, Miko (by harassing Agent Fowler) hauled in a karaoke machine, and smiled.

#Transformers #Primus this is so terribly written #I am so sorry #Optimus prime #ratchet #bumblebee #bulkhead #arcee #jack darby #miko nakadai #rafael esquivel #Transformers prime #tfp #transformers memes #Crack fic

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lazuli-bloom · 3 years

Text

Roses and Styx

Chapter 3 – Kids' Games To Pass The Time

Beetlejuice x Reader

Word Count : 5,399

New day, new problems. Sure things aren't the worst they could be, but that new hire isn't making things all that easy at work.

Last Chapter | Archive | Next Chapter

--=--=--

An annoying, rhythmic buzz cut through silence. Light seeped its way in, chasing away the shadows of sleep. You groaned and rolled. It was too early to face the new day.

Compounding your groggy state was the fact you didn't sleep for shit last night. The chilly October night sucked the warmth from your room, and you had only a few blankets to shield yourself from it. And the chill didn't stop your mind racing most of the night. When sleep came to you, it brought restless dreams.

The first wasn't terrible, just strange. A weird bug followed you home wanting to be friends. The other dream, however... A vile pit formed in your stomach.

Your thoughts drifted to the dream. You couldn't move. Arms, legs, head, nothing. You couldn't budge an inch no matter how hard you fought. Something wanted you to stay still. And it wasn't as if your surroundings gave you any clues either. Darkness blanketed the room. No details, just a barren inky void. The only thing you found with you was a set of pinprick lights.

A voice spoke. It whispered beautiful words coated in honey. Your guts twisted. A warm touch held your face, and the voice asked you a question. Your words caught in your throat. The entity glared at you with icy eyes, and the sweet words soured to a nasty venom.

You clutched your chest as the memory of searing heat replayed. It sank blazing claws into your waist and arm, blistering and cooking the flesh.

You drew in shaky breaths and wiped away the leftover tears. It was just a dream. It was just a bad dream. You're safe.

You took in one more breath before getting up to start your day.

Normally you would go straight to the bathroom, but you wanted to check something. You stepped out into the main living space and found it empty. A DVD case sat on the coffee table, but the TV screen was dark. The couch laid devoid of any unexpected house guests. No sign anyone else was ever there. Your heart sank as you realized the encounter you remembered was just another dream cooked up by your tired brain. A frown pulled at your lips and you sighed. No time to mope. You needed to get ready for work.

You opened the bathroom door and peered inside. Rigel napped on the top of the toilet's water tank, surrounded by shredded toilet paper. At least it was less of a mess than yesterday. You clean up the ribbons and tossed them in the garbage under the sink. After you topped off his food and water, you hopped in the shower.

The water in your apartment only ever got up to lukewarm on a good day. And that was not a good day. Frigged rain pelted you, giving you goosebumps. Not wanting to linger, you got out and dressed a few minutes later.

You combed your fingers through your hair as you looted the kitchen. Damn cat, why'd it have to throw up on your hairbrush? You grumbled to yourself and pulled out the off-brand cereal to fix breakfast.

"What 'cha doing, babes?" A voice from nowhere spoke in your ear.

Your knees buckle and you collapse, taking the bag of cereal with you. You gripped at your chest to still your heart, and rolled to sit with your back to the cabinets. A man in a rotting striped suit floated in your kitchen, clutching his rounder stomach as he cackled.

"Oh sweets, that's great! I wasn't even trying!"

As the shock fades, your features scrunched up. You got to your feet and tossed the bag on the counter. With crossed arms you pivot to glare at the ghost, still laughing his ass off.

"Giving me a heart attack first thing in the morning," you said with a huff, "I came out here and you were gone. I thought I had dreamed the whole thing, you jerk."

"So you're saying you missed me?" He batted his eyes at you, setting your cheeks on fire. You would not dignify that with a response. Instead, you turned back to the counter and fixed your breakfast.

"Where did you go then?" you asked and riffled through the silverware drawer for a spoon.

"I was checking on your neighbors. Did you know the guys a few doors down have a shit-ton of electronics?"

"Yeah, and old lady Smith has a garden in her closet."

"Really? Which one is she in? I didn't find that."

"She's on the third floor, but don't bug her too much. She's nice. Plus she bakes amazing cookies for me whenever I help her."

You scarfed your breakfast, and double checked you had everything done. Rigel was in the bathroom with his things. You had your wallet and phone. After you finished the last bite, you set the bowl in the sink along with the one from last night.

You rinsed out the bowl and hummed to yourself before you glanced over your shoulder to the ghost. He grinned at you with a tilt of his head. You gave him a small smile, only to frown.

"I have to head to work."

That simple sentence wiped the grin from his face. His shoulders sank, and the color of his hair shifted. A dull purple seeped in and overtook the green. That couldn't be a good sign. "You're leaving me here?"

"Well, you could stay here, or..."

"Or?"

"If you can be out of the way and let me focus on my work when I need to, then you could tag along with me. It’d be nice having someone other than my boss to talk to during the downtime."

His grin stretched across his face again, and he spun up to you, batting his eyes. "Oh babes, you do care! Of course I'll go with you! Not my idea for a first date, but I'll take it."

You pressed your lips tight. Was this a mistake? Not like you can take back the offer, though. That would crush him. You let out a long sigh and rubbed at your temple.

"Not a date, dude."

"If you say so," he purred.

You shook your head and grabbed the keys before heading to the car. The ghost trailed you, with an ever present chill at your side. On the way to the car, he pointed out each of the apartments and spilled whatever secrets he found out. You had an inkling of some of your neighbors' crimes, but you weren't one to go tattling. It was best to let them deal with their lives and you deal with yours. So you ended up nodding along to what the ghost told you.

When you got to your car, you sat behind the wheel for a moment. Once your ghostly friend floated into the passenger seat, you took in a breath.

"Okay. A few things before we get there," You said as you fought to start the car, "If either my boss or a customer comes up and needs to talk to me, I would appreciate it if you hang back for a minute and let me handle them. Otherwise, I mostly just front-face merchandise and I can talk with you so long as I'm quiet. Also, I take my lunches in the cemetery, so I can talk a bit more freely there."

"Sounds good to me, toots."

You rolled your eyes and got the hunk of junk started. The car protested with clangs, but you drove off with a little more of a fight. On the scenic drive to work he asked you to turn on the radio, which got a dry laugh from you.

"What's so funny?"

"Radio's broke. Most things in this car are broken. Radio, heater, a/c. All of them are broken."

"Can't you get a new one? There's cars all over the place, just take one."

"Th-this isn't Grand Theft Auto,"

"It will be once you take a car!"

"Okay, technically true. I meant this isn't the game GTA, this is real life. And I would get arrested."

"Not if you had help from the ghost with the most!"

You rolled your eyes and turned onto the main road, heading for work. The rest of the drive, the "ghost with the most" filled the air with his own voice, singing a medley of songs. Some of them you recognized, others you suspected he made up on the spot.

You pulled into the employee parking and parked your car alongside the two much nicer ones there. As you collected your things, Beetlejuice pointed to the sleek mustang.

"That car looks fun! We should steal a car like that!"

"I'm pretty sure that's Brandon's car. I'm not stealing my coworker's car to take for a joyride."

"But it would be so cool!"

"Maybe later," you said, stepping out of your junker.

The bell chimed as you entered the store and caught your boss's attention. He came over to greet you and made sure you were doing better. You gave a small laugh and rubbed at the back of your neck.

"Yeah, I'm doing better." You glanced sidelong to the ghost wandering over to the front counter.

"Good. Now hopefully I can focus on training Brandon without as many interruptions. He keeps breaking away to chat with every customer that comes into the store. So I need you to handle the customers so he doesn't have an excuse."

"Got it. And if you need help with him, I can always smack some sense into him. The new order of mallets is in the back, right?"

Mr. Turner laughed and turned to go back to teaching Brandon. You smiled to yourself and meandered over to the counter. Your ghost pal sat on the countertop next to the computer.

"You never mentioned you get to hit people at your job, any openings?"

"Sorry, spot's filled. For now, anyway. But who knows, maybe we'll need a replacement soon."

"Save it for me. I would kill to get to hang around a pretty little breather like you all day and get paid for it. But doing that for free is nice too."

"You're a shameless flirt."

"How can a sexy beast like me not be with you around and able to see me?"

You shook your head and glanced at the computer. There was something you wanted to look up, you were sure of it. But what was it? You stepped closer and opened a new tab for the search. It sat blank for a moment as you retraced what the topic could have been.

"What are ya doing, babes?"

"I can't remember what I wanted to search for."

"One hundred great ways to skin a cat?"

You raised a brow and frowned at him. "I'm not hurting Rigel." A light flicked on in your head.

You typed in the cat's name and clicked on the page for the star. A picture of the Orion constellation to the side of the page showed off the stars. Most of them had fancy looking letters next to them, with a few having numbers attached. Rigel marked the lower right star, while the upper left was the only other star with a word.

"Beh-tell? Goose? Wait..." You jerked your head over to the ghost, who wore a Cheshire grin. "That's how you spell your name?"

"Yep. That's me. Behtellgoose."

You read the name once more. Betelgeuse. Such a strange spelling to sound like beetle-juice. Kind of cool though. You smiled and closed out of the tab when an unfamiliar voice called out to you.

"Good morning, Art. Great to see you doing better!"

"Heh, yeah. Feeling better." You forced a tight-lipped smile to prevent yourself from frowning. Brandon stayed still with his own fake smile plastered on his face. After a beat of him not saying anything, you asked, "Do you need something?"

"You forgot to go grab your apron. What if a customer came in? That would look very unprofessional. Here, I'll watch the counter and you can go grab your apron."

The corner of your mouth twitched, and you took in a deep breath. You stepped away and grabbed your stupid apron. As you threw it on, the bell chimed. You rushed back out, hoping to catch the customer before Brandon.

The counter stood unattended and you found Brandon down one aisle with a woman discussing products. You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose.

"Isn't that what your boss wanted you to stop him from doing?"

"Yes, Beetle, it is."

You hissed out a sigh and shook your head. As you walked over to them, you prepared yourself to speak in your chipper customer service voice. Brandon insisted he could take care of the customer, only for Mr. Turner to order him to get back to training. Brandon grimaced and stepped away to let you take over.

Your smile was easier to keep on your face after that. You helped the customer find what she needed and rang up her items. She left with a wave and you went back to the computer.

"What the hell is that guy's deal?" Betelgeuse asked, gesturing with a thumb to Brandon.

"I don't know. I don't know if I really care." You leaned back onto your heels and let your mind wander. Whenever you were alone, stuck at the counter, you always pulled up simple web games on the computer to pass the time. But with Betelgeuse there, you couldn't ignore him to play games.

"What are ya thinking about, sweets? How hot it would be to make out right now?"

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. "No, you flirt. I'm thinking of what we can do to pass the time. All I'm coming up with are twenty questions and I spy."

"I'm fine with that," he said as he flashed you a sharp grin. "Okay, I'll start. I spy with my rotten eye, something... metal."

"Well, that narrows it down."

The two of you spent the rest of the morning going, taking turns playing those silly kids' games. Betelgeuse huffed and whined whenever a customer, or worse, Brandon, pulled you away to help them. Any time you called him out on his grumbling, he denied it as the color in his hair shifted.

He caught you staring at his hair once or twice, which exacerbated the shifting colors. Each time that happened, Betelgeuse quickly picked up whichever game you two had been playing. You left the topic alone for the moment, but stashed it away to ask about later.

Halfway into a difficult game of twenty questions, Mr. Turner came up to the counter. You ignored Betelgeuse's smug punchable face and greeted your boss, hoping your frustration didn't bleed into your tone.

"Cass, I'm stepping out for a bit to pick up something. I should be back for you to take your lunch break. Keep an eye on the store and Brandon for me, while I'm gone, okay?"

"Got it. Burn down the place and leave no evidence. Can do."

He shook his head with a laugh. Mr. Turner said, "you turd," before he waved goodbye and left the shop.

"Ooh baby, I love you talking about crimes like that! Tell me how you'd light up the place."

You turned back to the ghost. He floated with his stomach parallel to the ground as he held his scruffy chin in his hands and swung his legs pointed upward. You laughed at the dork and smiled.

"Well, the kerosene is over there, and the rolls of rags are an aisle over. There's a blow torch with some of the other tools."

"Artemis!" You whipped your attention to the stick in the mud, frowning at you. You didn't even get the chance to speak. "That kind of talk is highly unprofessional! Going over ways to burn down the store, shame on you."

"I was joking dude, it's not—"

"Well, I don't find that funny. And you shouldn't address your elders as 'dude', it is very disrespectful."

"Alright, I'm sorry."

"Good. Now I need your help."

You gave a tight-lipped smile and nodded. Brandon motioned for you to follow him, and once he turned back, you brought two fingers to your temple and jerked your head away.

In the middle of a tedious and painful walkthrough of creating an order of paint, the bell rang. Brandon broke away the second it chimed and went straight to helping the customer. That was irritating enough, but after the regular said they didn't need any help, Brandon insisted on assisting them.

You took in a deep breath and let the man dig his own grave. If he doesn't value your help, then he's not getting it. You marched back to the counter and found Betelgeuse picking his teeth.

He licked a striped tongue over his sharp teeth then said, "What a douchebag."

"Tell me about it."

The customer came up to the counter a minute later, followed by Brandon. You greeted the regular and switched the computer over to its register display. Your new coworker nudged you aside and insisted on being the one to ring up the customer.

"Artemis, you should have stayed at the paint desk. I'll meet you back there in a minute, after I help this gentleman."

You wanted nothing more than to slap that man. Who the hell does he think he is? Calling you unprofessional and pulling stunts like that? You grit your teeth and forced a smile before excusing yourself to head back to the paint desk.

Betelgeuse floated after you and lounged on top of the desk. You spared him a glance, but stuck to pacing the small paint pit, waiting for that douche-canoe to get back there. The customer didn't even have a lot of things to buy, so it shouldn't take Brandon that long.

"That freaking jerk," you said under your breath, "I can't believe Mr. Turner hired a guy like that."

"Want me to kill him?"

"Tempting, but no. I'm just going to talk to my boss when he gets back." You checked your phone for the time. A quarter after one, which means only fifteen more minutes until your lunch break. "God, I hope he's here soon."

You tapped your nails against the metal top of the tint machine, the speed of which accelerated the longer you waited. What the hell was taking him so long? Did another customer show up? This was getting infuriating.

"You sure you don't want me to kill the guy?"

"No, Beetle, I don't want you to do that."

"Art, who are you talking to?"

You turned around to the voice. Brandon stood at the threshold of the paint pit with his hand on his hips and raised a brow at you. Your face burned as you laughed, attempting to cover up your embarrassment.

"Oh, just this annoying little beetle. It was crawling under the tint dispenser."

"Do you regularly talk to disgusting bugs?" he asked. You opened your mouth to speak, only for Brandon to keep talking. "It doesn't matter. You shouldn't act so childish. How old are you? Late teens?"

"No, Brandon, I'm closer to my thirties than my teens."

"And you're talking to bugs, where any customer can come up and see that behavior. You ought to grow up and act your age, Artemis."

The bell chimed again, and you shuffled to the side to get an unobstructed view of the front. Mr. Turner stepped in with a smile and a wave. You waved back and checked the clock on the computer. One twenty-seven, perfect. You pulled your apron's strings and took it off in a swift motion.

"Where do you think you're going, Artemis?"

"Lunch."

Brandon frowned, and you folded up your apron with a smile. He probably wanted to stop you from leaving, but that shit would not fly with the boss back. Betelgeuse hopped down from his spot on the counter and followed. You tossed your apron behind the front counter and greeted Mr. Turner. After a quick rundown of what had happened, you left for your break, with a quick stop to your car to grab your food.

On the walk to the cemetery, Betelgeuse mocked the stupid things Brandon said. He was dead on with his impression, too.

"Artemis, do you think I give a shit? I'm a giant douche with a stick up my ass! There's no fun allowed in the store."

You did your best to hold back your laughter, but that only caused you to snort. A laugh roared out next to you in Betelgeuse's voice. You covered your mouth with your free hand, but that couldn't stop your shoulders from bouncing. As the two of you crossed into the graveyard, you glanced sidelong at the ghost, who shot you a grin.

In the cemetery, devoid of any other visitors, you veered towards your usual spot, off in the corner and near the front gate. You sat on the stone bench, setting your lunch beside you. Betelgeuse, however, sat on a gravestone, with his feet propped up on the one next to it.

You opened up your small bag of chips and started snacking on them. Betelgeuse looked over from picking at his nails and raised a brow at you.

"That's all you're going to eat, babes?"

"I have a granola bar too."

You grabbed the other half of your lunch and showed him. He tilted his head with a frown, but said nothing. It grew quiet, save for your munching on the chips. Your mind wandered, and you zoned out, staring unfocused in a random direction. Betelgeuse moved, catching your eye, and you studied him.

He gnawed at his black nails with jagged yellow teeth. Stubble covered his round chin, matching the same green mixed in his hair. Has his stubble changed color like his hair has? And why did his hair change color to begin with?

You hummed to yourself after finishing the last of your chips.

"What's up, sweets?"

"I... was hoping to ask you something."

Betelgeuse tilted his head to the other side and raised a brow and pursed his lips. You gave a half smile and laughed. He looked like a curious puppy. How could this ghost-demon look so cute?

"What is it?"

"I've noticed that your hair isn't always green."

As soon as the sentence left your mouth, the color of his hair shifted to a deep purple. You shrank back as your stomach twisted into knots. Even without knowing what the colors meant, the frown on his face and sudden dodging of eye contact weren't good signs. On no. You messed up, didn't you? Why couldn't you have just kept your mouth shut?

"I'm sorry. You don't have to say anything. Forget I ever mentioned it."

You dug your nails into your palms and turned your gaze to your knees. Betelgeuse produced a mix of a growl and a groan, and you peered up at him through your hair. His lips pulled into an almost smile as he kept sharp eyes pointed at his hands, where he raked his nails through the hair of one.

"I might as well tell you, you'd figure it out eventually. My hair changes color with my mood."

You dared to lift your head more. Your lips parted as your brain processed the new information.

"Like a chameleon?"

"Like what?"

He tilted his head and raised a brow as his nose wrinkled. You forced out a small laugh and smile as you wrung your wrists. "A chameleon, the little lizards that change color. It's to communicate their mood. Darker colors like black are when it's stressed, neutral tones are when it's calm, and vibrant greens, or reds can be excitement or aggression."

Betelgeuse lurched forward with a growl and ran his hands through his hair, shielding the deepening purple from view. Your stomach twisted into knots. This wasn't getting better. You parted your lips only to press them shut a second later. Why did you have to screw up and bring up his hair in the first place?

Your nails dug deeper into your palms. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"If you're going to strip a guy naked like that, babes, you could at least buy me dinner first."

Your face wrinkled as you tilted your head at him. Betelgeuse still held himself curled and closed off, but he wore a weak crooked smile. Your lips twitched, and you huffed out a dry laugh.

"Alright, we can go through the drive thru to get a few things off the dollar menu."

"Ooh! I wanna try one of those green sludgy shake things from that Old MacDonald place."

"Sorry to break this to you, but they only sell those in March."

"What? That's lame!"

"Everything is pumpkin spice right now."

He pouted and crossed his arms with a huff. Despite the childish act, the purple in his hair faded back to a muted green. You chuckled to yourself as relief washed over you. With a soft smile, you grabbed the other half of your lunch and hummed before you opened it.

"Hey Beetle."

"Hmm?"

"I won't bring it up again if you don't want me to, but I wanted to say I think your chameleon hair is pretty cool. Like, is it magic? Or is it a demon thing? Or—sorry. I'm sorry. I'll shut up about it now. Sorry."

Your eyes darted to focus on your granola bar. You fumbled with tearing open the packaging for a second, only for the wrapper to give. The force sent your food tumbling to the ground. You stared at the broken bar and heaved out a sigh. Just wonderful.

Your pocket buzzed, veering your attention to it. You pulled out your phone and checked the caller id. Unknown number. Chills cascaded down as you stared at the phone.

"Something wrong, babes?"

"Nope. Everything's fine. Just some spam call."

You shoved it back into your pocket and let it ring. If the caller wanted anything, they can leave a voicemail. Besides, you needed to get back to work.

You picked up your trash and nodded your head to the gate. Betelgeuse hopped up and floated alongside you. After a few steps out of the cemetery, your phone rang again. Every fiber in you tensed up, but you left your phone in your pocket. The third time your phone rang, Betelgeuse spoke up again.

"Who the hell keeps calling you?"

You shrugged and laughed despite your dry throat. "Who knows? I have to get back to work though."

With a hurried pace, you made it back to the store in a few minutes. The bell swung, chiming away as you beeline for your apron behind the counter. Brandon stood at the register with a phone up to his ear.

"There you are, Art! I've been calling you and you never once answered!" Brandon frowned at you and slipped his phone into his pants pocket. "You're obligated to pick up if I or Mr. Turner ever need to call you."

"O-oh, that was you calling." A small breath escapes passed your lips and you relax, only to register what he said. "Wait, how did you even get my number? I've only ever given this number to Sam and Mr. Turner."

"Why does it matter how I got your number? The issue is; if work calls you, especially if you have a shift that day, you need to answer."

"Fine, okay. I'll save your number so I don't panic again when I'm called three times in a row."

"Oh please, three phone calls make you panic? Artemis, you're an adult. You should know better than to be worried about something as simple as a phone call."

You grit your teeth and smiled. This conversation wasn't going anywhere you wanted, and you didn't plan on sticking around. You threw on your apron and marched to a far corner of the store to get away from everyone. Well, save for the ghost haunting you.

"Wow, babes, that guy is a major piece of work."

"Piece of shit is more like it."

You grabbed at products on the shelf and pulled them forward, turning the labels when needed. If you looked busy, maybe Brandon would mind his own fucking business. You clenched your jaw and growled as you brought more things forward.

"I shouldn't be worried about phone calls? What the fuck does he know? He's never had to put up with the shit I have!"

"And what shit would that be, babes?"

You glanced up to the ghost laying on his stomach across the top of the aisle shelving. Betelgeuse tilted his head. Soft and earnest curiosity graced his features. The corner of your mouth twitched before you closed your eyes and let out a hiss.

"I don't want to get into it," you said, keeping your voice quiet, "but I've had someone call me over and over before. It wasn't fun."

You pulled the rest of the items forward within arm's reach before sidestepping to get more. Betelgeuse floated after you as you inched down the aisle. He picked the games back up, and you welcomed the distraction.

There were one or two rounds of I spy, several goes at twenty questions—which you're positive Betelgeuse cheated and switched his topic multiple times. Towards the end of your shift, well after Brandon left for the day, you two asked a few "would you rather" questions. While he asked a few risque questions at the start—bite or be bitten, top or bottom—his questions took a tamer turn, similar to the ones you asked.

"Okay babe, would you rather find a rat in the kitchen or a roach in your bed?"

"I mean... I guess I'd prefer seeing another rat in the kitchen over finding more roaches?"

"M-more?"

"Donna hires her incompetent nephew to do the pest control for the apartments." You swept the line of dirt into the pan and tossed it into the trash. "Actually, speaking of, I should double check the traps and make sure something isn't rotting somewhere in the apartment."

Betelgeuse watched you finish the last of the closing routine. You clicked the pan back around the neck of the broom and stuffed it into a corner behind the counter. The only thing left was Mr. Turner to finish locking up the cash and heading out. You leaned against the counter and rolled your head back to look at the ceiling.

A quiet stillness overtook the store. It lasted a few seconds before Betelgeuse spoke up again.

"Would you rather have a nicer place but the same landlady, or the same apartment with a nicer landlady—"

"Alright Cass, you ready to leave?"

You turned your attention from the unseen ghost to your boss. He smiled and gestured to the door. You returned a half smile before exiting. Mr. Turner locked up, and you waved goodbye. A minute later you sank into the car seat and rested your hands on the wheel.

"Well babes, this certainly seems familiar."

You glanced his way and rolled your eyes before getting the car started.

"Yep, it's been an entire day since a demon followed my home, like a lost puppy."

"I'm way cuter than any puppy. Plus, you can keep me in your apartment all you want and your shitty landlady can't do anything about it!"

"Nicer landlady, by the way," you said as the car sputtered to life.

"What?"

"I'd rather have a nicer landlady than a nicer place. Donna would just let a nicer place fall to ruin."

You pulled out of the parking lot and drove home. At the first red light, you tapped your finger on the wheel and hummed.

"Hey Beetle, would you rather stay in a comfortable and familiar place with people that don't believe half of what you say, or cut all contact with them and be alone if it meant freedom?"

Betelgeuse tilted his head from one side to the other, closing his eyes as he mulled over your question. As he thought, the light changed, and you continued on your way home. A sharp grin stretched across his face a moment later.

"Easy. I'd take my freedom."

Your lips twitched up. "Yeah... me too."

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice x reader #musical beetlejuice x reader #roses and styx #my writing #fun fact. I kept miss spelling Brandon as Brandong when typing this

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angelmavmurdock · 3 years

Text

Our Little Secret: Part Five - A.R

Word count: 4602 Summary: Lenora tries to tell y/n a shameful secret and y/n and Arvin go out.

I sat by Lenora, stroking her hair as she awakened slowly. I had only come in to get changed into some of her clothes until my uniform was clean. But I felt too awkward to go out and face Arvin again with his Grandmother there so I just stayed in Lenora's room.

She opened her eyes and I smiled at her, "Hey, sleepin' beauty." I giggled.

She grinned and wiped her eyes, sitting up in bed. She looked at my clothes with confusion.

"Your Grandma is cleanin' my uniform so..."

"Oh alright. It's no problem. Where's Arvin?" She asked groggily.

"He's outside I think. He's okay." I smiled, rubbing her knee.

"Good. Are you okay? You had it worse than me."

"I'm okay. Arvin helped clean my wounds up." I spoke, not looking into her eyes.

She paused and stared at me for a few moments. I eventually looked up at her.

"What?" I questioned.

She squinted, "Do you like Arvin?"

I spluttered a laugh, thinking of what to say as quickly as I could.

"Why in God's name would I like Arvin? I don't. He don't like me much and everyone knows that." I spoke too quickly and my voice went a little higher but hopefully she didn't notice.

"Hmm...if you did like him I wouldn't mind." She shrugged.

My ears perked up, "W-uh- wh- really?" I stuttered.

A slow smile grew on her lips, "Yeah, you'd be family. More than you already are...but of course, you don't like him."

"Right, yeah...of course."

We both stayed in silence then looked at each other and burst into laughter.

After a few minutes of hysterics we calmed down and slumped together, legs and arms over each other like a jigsaw puzzle. We didn't talk. We didn't need to. It was just nice being with each other, hearing the distant chatter of Mrs Russell and Arvin and the radio and the mosquitos outside.

"Hey, y/n?" Lenora spoke in a whisper.

"Yeah?" I whispered back.

"I uh...I need to tell you somethin'." She whispered.

I furrowed my brows but she couldn't see me.

"What is it?"

"I...I...you know that new preacher? Reverend Teagardin?" Her voice broke slightly, leading me to believe she was crying.

I lay down further and onto my side to look at her. She had shed a few tears, her eyes were red and puffy and her chin quivered. I hate to think what she'd tell me.

"Well...he uh...he drove me to the woods and-"

"y/n?" Emma came into the room.

"Yes?" I asked, sitting up.

"Your parents are askin' for you back home. Arvin'll take you." She smiled.

"Okay, thank you. I'll be right there."

Emma nodded then left and I looked down at Lenora. She sat up and wiped her tears.

"We'll talk on Monday, alright? You take care of yourself Lenora. I'll see you at school on Monday." I kissed her cheek then got up from her bed.

"Bye, y/n." She said weakly.

"Bye."

I left her room and walked into the living room where Arvin was getting his jacket and hat on. He winced as he put his arms in but he got it on eventually.

"Here you go, darlin'. Good as new." Emma handed me my uniform folded and washed.

"Thank you so much, Emma. You're a life saver." I embraced her.

"No problem, honey. Now go home and rest." She smiled, parting our hug.

"Thank you again." I waved as Arvin opened the door to me and I walked out.

It was dark and a little cold out but it was nice. Peaceful.

"G'night, y/n." Earskell said, nodding his head.

"Night, Earskell." I smiled and hopped down the patio steps.

Arvin followed loosely behind and opened the car while he lit a cigarette. We both got in in silence and he reversed out. I watched as he painfully stretched an arm behind my seat to look back.

"You shouldn't be stretchin' like that, Arvin." I said softly as he put his hand back on the wheel.

"I'm fine, don't worry." He said, taking the cigarette out his mouth and driving off.

I turned the radio up. Honeycomb by Jimmie Rodgers began to play. I grinned and sat back on my seat, bouncing my leg to the music.

"You like this song?" Arvin asked me.

I smiled, "Yeah. Do you?"

He nodded, "Yeah."

I bit my lip to try to contain a huge smile.

"And they call it a honeycomb," I sang.

Arvin looked from the road to me, his hand moving up to inhale and exhale the tobacco from his smiling lips. I wasn't used to him smiling this much. I liked it.

"Oh honeycomb, won't you be my baby. Well, honeycomb, be my own." I sang, nodding my head along too.

I looked at him while singing and giggled throughout my words. He watched in admiration. His eyes looked all over my body from my legs to my lips to my eyes. He wore a slight smirk and his eyes looked fairly innocent for once. Like he was just enjoying himself.

He drove me up the road but parked just before the gates because I had to get changed without my parents seeing.

"Okay, here goes. Keep your eyes ahead, Russell." I warned as I climbed into the backseat.

He did as he was told with a boyish grin, throwing his cigarette out and lighting a new one to keep himself occupied.

"Will your parents not notice that your clothes are clean?" He asked, blowing out a mouthful of smoke.

"They'll only see me in it for a moment. I'll go straight upstairs to change." My voice was muffled as I removed Lenora's dress from my body.

"So you changing is pointless then."

"No, it's-" I groaned trying to get the cheerleading top on. "It's not pointless, it's smart." I sighed, finally getting it on.

"Hmm." He hummed, looking out the window to the house.

I put my shorts and skirt on and climbed back into the passenger seat with a sigh of relief, folding Lenora's dress in my lap.

"Whatcha' thinkin' about?" I asked Arvin as he stared at the house.

He took a last puff of the cigarette then threw it out the window.

"Just thinkin' how you could ever like me when you live like this." He stated.

I furrowed my brows and stayed stunned with confusion for a few moments. I reached a hand over onto his neck, snaking my fingers into his hair. He hummed and leaned into my touch.

"It don't matter to me, Arv. You do." I said softly with a smile.

He looked up at me and his innocent look began to mix with a lustful one. I knew what that looked like now. He cupped my face with one hand, bringing me towards him.

I hummed against his lips as they touched. It was soft at first, meaningful even. Our lips connected perfectly. He tasted like tobacco but I didn't mind. He slipped his tongue into my mouth and I moaned softly, tugging his hair at his scalp.

He removed his hand from my face and reached behind him. He pulled the seat back slightly but I kept my lips on his, our tongues working together at a perfect pace. He held my waist and practically lifted me onto his lap.

I gasped as I straddled him, our lips hovering over each others.

"Is this okay?" He asked, his breath touching my lips.

"Y-yeah." I stuttered.

He smiled and brushed my hair back before cupping my face and bringing our lips together once again. I moaned, our tongues and lips getting faster. His hands left my face and he ran them down my spine and then held my waist tightly. I massaged his scalp and pulled his face as close to mine as possible. Our laboured breaths lay upon each others skin as we basically devoured one another.

His hands slid to my ass and squeezed. I let out a moan of surprise. He avoided my cut again but he could still grab a handful each. After I eased into it, he kneaded and massaged my skin. I moaned again and his lips began to trail from my lips again, lowering down to my neck.

He kissed over the already-existing hickey and I gasped with the sensitivity of it. He found a new spot on my neck which I reacted to accordingly. I moaned and tugged his hair tighter, bringing his face almost completely flush to my neck. I leaned back, letting him mark me as much as he wanted.

His fingers came up to my cropped top and he teased under the hem, stroking circles on my skin. His lips came back to mine, his tongue touching mine before his lips.

"I think about you all the time." He revealed breathlessly.

Thank God I wasn't the only one.

"You do?" I asked in between sloppy kisses.

He hummed, "I think about you- about us-"

"Us?" I gasped as he bit my bottom lip.

He moved onto my neck again, his hands roaming my waist, hips and now the tops of my thighs.

"I think about what it'd be like if it was just the two of us nearly every night, y/n." He spoke breathlessly against my skin.

I moaned, my head tilting back to give him more access.

"Do you think about us, too?" He asked.

"Uh-huh. But I never thought we'd be able to do it." I answered as well as I could.

He softened his kisses gradually and kissed my lips again before sitting back against his seat.

I rubbed his shoulders and hummed, enjoying the sight in front of me.

He lightly stroked my thighs and sighed in satisfaction.

"Should we...should we tell Lenora?" I asked.

He swallowed, "Not yet. We just started tonight. I want to keep it between us for a while."

I smiled as he sat up again, wrapping his arms completely around me, "Yeah? Just our little secret?"

He smiled, "Just our little secret."

I grinned and pulled him into me, our lips crashing together once again. He pushed me back, leaning into the kiss with want and need. I moaned against his lips, matching his energy.

But suddenly-

BEEEEEP

We both jumped and screamed at the sudden loud noise, falling back onto the chair. I gasped and clasped a hand over my mouth. My back had pressed the horn on the car.

"Shit." I cursed.

We shot our heads over to my house where we could just see my mother outside, curious to the noise.

"Shit!" I cursed again, clambering off of Arvin.

"Hey, this time we really were submarine racin'." He chuckled.

I scowled, "Not funny. I have to go."

I opened the car door and hopped out.

"Hey, do I not get a kiss goodbye?" He asked with a smug smile.

"You're unbelievable, Arvin Russell." I shook my head.

I climbed half-way back into the truck and craned my neck, laying a peck on his lips. I went to pull away but he cupped my head and pulled me in for longer, his tongue sliding effortlessly into my mouth. I moaned and held his hand, losing myself for a moment before ripping myself from his touch.

"Goodnight, Arvin. Drive safe." I said before shutting the door.

"G'night." He smirked, licking his lips.

I felt his eyes on me as I walked onto our house grounds. He reversed and pulled out, waving at me before heading back. I waved with a smile and turned around, skipping up the drive.

I entered the house and quietly closed the door behind me. I tip toed to the bottom of the staircase and took a step up.

"y/n?!" Ma shouted from the living room.

I scrunched my nose and closed my eyes. Damn it. I sat my bag down and walked sheepishly through to the living room. Ma was sitting in her nightgown and robe while Daddy was lying down, a cold cloth placed over his forehead and only pyjama bottoms on. He looked unwell. I immediately went to kneel by his side, looking up at Ma.

"Wh-what happened?" I asked, panic beginning to course through my body.

"He's sick again, sweetheart." Ma gulped.

"What? How?" I asked in shock.

"He must've caught somethin' at church." Ma stroked over his damp hair.

"And now he's sick again?"

She nodded.

I sighed, not knowing what to say. He was pale, his skin was cold to the touch but he was sweating. He nearly looked as bad as he did before.

"How was school?" Ma asked softly.

I didn't look up at her, "Yeah, it was good. Nothing new."

"And how's Lenora and the family?"

I nodded, still not looking at her.

"Y-yeah. Everyone...everyone's great." I smiled.

"Hm. Good."

A painfully long pause occurred. I stood up to go and change but Ma grabbed my wrist softly.

"What about that Arvin boy? What's he like? You've been around him a lot recently."

She seemed almost concerned. I'm not surprised. She knew what he was like.

"He's...okay. He's nice." I smiled.

"I mean he's ferryin' you everywhere, ain't he? You say thank you don't you?"

"Yeah, Ma. I say thank you."

"Good. Now go get changed, supper'll be on soon."

"Okay."

I walked calmly out of the living room and then I hopped upstairs, closing my door behind me. I squealed and jumped onto my bed, the silk sheets inviting me in. I stared at my white ceiling and grinned.

Arvin likes me. Arvin kissed me. Arvin took care of me. Arvin kissed me again.

I sat up and looked into my floor length mirror that hung gracefully on the wall. The hickey's were still there, I was surprised Ma didn't say anything. I ran my fingers over the bruise-like marks.

I fell asleep that night extremely happy.

***

Arvin's POV

"I've gotta go pick up y/n. I'll be back soon, alright?" I said to Lenora, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Thanks, Arv."

I left her in her room and got into the car to drive to school.

Lenora had been sick since the last bullying episode two weeks ago. She must have caught a bug but she was really unwell. However, that meant she was free from those jocks and all I had to worry about now was y/n.

But picking her up from school every day and driving to a secret spot to make out was amazing. We almost liked the sneaking around and the secretiveness of it all. We didn't want Lenora to find out and she didn't know how to tell her parents, especially with her Daddy being sick.

I waited outside of the school before the bell, a new cigarette lit and the radio playing. Honeycomb came on the radio and I smiled at the fond memories that was the first night we kissed.

Suddenly the school bell rang and I waited for her, keeping a close eye out for her uniform and her ribbon. I finally saw her sprint out of the school, a few jocks following loosely behind. I reached over and opened the car door for her. She jumped into the truck and slammed the door shut.

I waited. I waited for those jocks to get close enough just to be able to touch the truck and then I drove away as fast as I could.

"Assholes." I cursed.

We waited until we were on the flat roads through the town until we said our hello's.

"Hey," She beamed, reaching up and kissing my cheek.

"How was school?" I asked.

She shrugged, "Okay. I landed on my hip at cheer."

I furrowed my brows, "I told you you shouldn't be goin' back there yet."

"Well, too bad. It's fine it just stung a lil'."

"Hmm. You gotta be more careful."

"Yeah, yeah."

She hung a hand out of the window, letting the wind fly through her fingers.

"How's your Dad?" I asked.

She sighed, "Not gettin' any better."

She kept her eyes on the road purposefully. Obviously not wanting to look at me in case she got upset. I reached a hand over and rested it on her lower thigh.

"How's Lenora?" She asked, sitting her hand on top of mine.

"Still throwin' up. She's not good, I don't know what happened." I shook my head.

We decided to go straight to the house instead of a detour. I pulled up outside our house and Uncle Earskell was sitting outside as usual, listening to the radio.

y/n and I got out and walked up the steps.

"Afternoon, Earskell." y/n spoke sweetly.

"Afternoon, y/n." He smiled.

Him and I nodded our hats at each other and we went inside.

We could hear Lenora throwing up from the front door.

"Grandma?" I called through.

"Through here!" She shouted from Lenora's room.

y/n and I walked through and Lenora was spitting into a bowl at the side of her bed that Grandma held for her, along with her hair.

"We've got it." y/n smiled at her.

"Thanks, honey." Grandma said.

She left the room and y/n and I sat down as Lenora lay back.

"Hey, god I'm so sorry you're feelin' like this." y/n held Lenora's hand.

She smiled weakly, "It's alright...and Arvin?"

I looked up at her.

"Could you leave y/n and I just for a bit?"

I smiled, "Yeah sure."

I went to kiss y/n goodbye but I stopped myself half way and got up and left.

Reader's POV

"What's up?" I asked, shuffling to sit in front of her with my legs in a basket.

"I need to tell you somethin'. But you have to promise not to tell anyone." She spoke quietly like she was nervous.

I furrowed my brows as she sat up fully.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, matching her quiet tone.

She looked up at me with teary eyes then back down to her fiddling hands.

"I uh...I did somethin'...somethin' shameful." She gulped.

I cocked my head slightly in confusion and worry.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She looked up at me as tears began to fall from her eyes.

"You know Reverend Teagardin?"

I nodded my head, "Yeah."

"Well...he took me out into the woods and..."

My heartbeat fastened at her slow speech. I didn't want to imagine if what I was thinking in my head was true. It couldn't be.

"And he prayed with me...."

I sighed with relief, placing a hand over my chest.

"But then,"

Oh no.

Her chin quivered and she held a hand over her mouth to cover her cries.

"But then-"

"y/n?" Arvin came into the room.

We both shot our heads to the door and it looked like he immediately regretted interrupting.

"I'll be in the car." He coughed before exiting.

I turned back to Lenora.

"Lenora, why don't we talk on Sunday after I've finished my school work?" I asked, holding her hand in reassurance that I was there for her.

She suddenly broke into tears and I wrapped my arms around her, letting her cry into my cheer uniform.

"I'm so ashamed." She whimpered.

"You have nothin' to be ashamed of, Lenora." I said soothingly, rubbing her back.

"And I haven't been to church in two weeks. And I've not visited my mother's grave in so long." She cried.

"Oh Lenora," I pouted, squeezing her a little before parting.

"I promise you we'll go see your mother's grave once you feel better, okay? Does that sound good?" I asked, wiping her tears away.

She nodded and wiped her nose.

"Okay. I'll talk to you on Sunday?" I double-checked, standing up from her bed.

"Sunday, yes." She smiled weakly.

"I hope you feel better." I sighed.

"Thanks, y/n. You're the best friend I've ever had." She sniffled.

A grin grew on my face, "And you're mine. I love you."

"Love you too."

And I left, walking through the house in confusion and sympathy.

I said goodbye to Mrs Russell and then Uncle Earskell before hopping down the stairs, wiping the sadness that was that conversation away. I didn't want to be sad today. Not with Arvin.

I got into the car and Arvin drove off with a wave to his uncle. We sat in silence, only the sound of the radio singing throughout the car. Arvin drove us down the highway to our special spot in the woods. It was by a lake and we always had food and drinks and a picnic blanket ready in the back in case we wanted to go for a drive.

We got out and I sat the mat down on the grass by the lake and planted myself on it. Arvin sat down next to me and sighed.

"What was that all about at the house?" He asked inquisitively.

"Oh uh...she was just upset about missing church and the grave." I coughed, looking at the river.

Technically I wasn't lying. She was upset about that. But there was something deeper and...darker that she was finding hard to say. And the timing couldn't have been worse.

"Well she'll get to do that when she's not sick."

"I know. I know. That's what I told her." I nodded.

He took his jacket off and laid it down, lying back on top of it.

"Don't know why she loves that preacher so much. He's as bad as they got on the damn radio." He huffed, holding his arm out, gesturing for me to lie with him.

I sighed and shuffled over, lying back into the crook of his armpit. My head rested on his shoulder and I wrapped an arm over his chest.

"I don't think he's that bad, Arvin. He's a preacher for god's sake."

"Yeah well...there's a lotta no good sons of bitches out there." He said lowly.

I smiled a little, "I think you've been saying that since the day I met you."

"Well it's true."

He lifted his hips to get a cigarette and a lighter out of his pockets and he lit one, inhaling, then exhaling.

A beat of silence. Peaceful silence. The birds chirped and the lake lapped a few times but it was quiet.

Arvin nudged me a little and I looked up at him.

"Kiss." He demanded softly.

I giggled and lifted my head to lay a kiss on his lips. What I thought was going to be a brief kiss turned into more. He slid his tongue into my mouth and I moaned.

His arms lifted me from the ground to on top of him. I readjusted my weight on him and we continued kissing. He blindly put out his cigarette then placed his hands on my waist. Our tongues meshed together like a puzzle and his hands roamed all over my body.

I pulled away, looking down at him. His slightly swollen lips and his hooded eyes.

He smirked and caught another kiss before lying back down, a hand holding his head up slightly.

"You're beautiful." He complimented.

"You're handsome."

"What a pair we make." He smiled.

"What a pair indeed."

***

Over the next few days, Arvin and I would spend any spare time we had with each other. Since Lenora wasn't at school and I was advised not to see her often in case I caught her bug, we were able to spend hours with each other a day.

He would pick me up from school and drive me back home where we'd sit and chat to Uncle Earskell outside. Or he'd drive us to the lake and we'd eat and kiss. Or we'd even just find a quiet spot if it was raining and we'd just listen to the radio in the backseat, stealing one or a few kisses.

Every night I'd come into the house and I'd bound up the stairs before saying anything to put on different clothes and try to hide the evident marks of Arvin's actions on my skin. Ma would ask about him constantly. And I could tell they were in the know that something between us was going on. And the nights were getting gradually later the more Arvin and I would want to stay with each other and the more we'd get caught up in our...activities.

Last night I came in an hour late. I had never been so late in my life.

"Miss y/l/n, where the hell do you think you're goin'?"

"I'm goin' to bed!"

"You cannot come in an hour late and go to bed! Talk to me! Why are you so late?"

"I just lost track of time."

"With that Arvin boy?"

"Yes. With Arvin."

"He's no good, y/n."

"Why would you say that? I thought you liked him?"

"Not now 'cause he's takin' you out constantly and distractin' you and god knows what you two do in that car."

"Ma!"

"I don't want you seein' him like that again. I'm fond of Lenora, I really am. But not him. I don't want you spendin' all this time with him after school, d'ya hear me?"

"He is my friend, ma. I'm allowed friends."

"I don't think he's just a friend. Now go upstairs, get changed and tomorrow after school, tell him to bring you straight home."

"Fine."

I stormed up the stairs in a hissy fit and cried in frustration at my mother setting boundaries like I was a child.

The next afternoon I sprinted out at the bell and Arvin opened the door for me as usual. I jumped in and gave him a quick peck before he sped off.

"Oh Arvin?" I chirped.

"Yeah?"

"You've to just drop me home today." I sighed.

"What? Why?" He asked.

I groaned, "My parents don't like that we're out so late and honestly...they're not your biggest fans."

He chuckled, "Not many people are."

"I'm so sorry. I wish I could stay longer."

"Not your fault, darlin'."

Arvin drove me to my house and stopped before the gate briefly.

We turned and immediately kissed, tongues pushing into each other's mouth with a new passion. I moaned and he hummed as our tongues moved perfectly.

But I had to go.

I pulled away and we both groaned in frustration.

"Just pick me up at noon on Sunday, okay? Lenora and I were going to hang out." I smiled.

"Okay. I'll drop Grandma back off after church then I'll come and get you, alright?" He checked.

"Sounds great. Thanks, Arv." I giggled and we pecked once more before I hopped out the car and skipped up the road, waving a goodbye.

***

I waited patiently by one of the front window's for Arvin. He was never usually this late. I checked the Grandfather's clock behind me.

12:23.

I just waited. Something felt wrong, though. Like something bad had happened. Arvin was a safe driver, though. He'd be fine. Right?

The ringing of the house phone broke me out of my worrying trance. I leapt up to get it, hoping it was Arvin. Ma and Daddy watched from the couch as I picked it up.

"Hello, Fernpark residence." I answered with a smile.

"y/n?"

It was Arvin. His voice was shaky and I could hear a lot of background noise. Something was wrong.

"Arvin? Are you okay? Are you hurt?" I asked, turning to face my parents in panic.

Ma stood up in worry.

"It's- it's not me, y/n...it's Lenora..."

"Wh-what? What are you saying, Arvin?" I pressed.

My heartbeat quickened and I could feel it pulsing in my throat. Something was terribly wrong.

"She's dead."

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gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

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Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: With the wizarding war finally put behind you, Draco feels as though it’s time for a change.

Warnings: mentions of the war, mild angst, mentions of anxiety, fluff, lots of kisses

It had been rather dreary when morning finally rolled around at the Manor, puffy gray clouds covering the expanse of the sky as rain drizzled steadily. The weather appeared to be sticking around for a while, and it left Draco grumbling over his morning cup of coffee in disapproval as he watched the rain drops trickle down the windowpanes one after another.

“Is that a hint, Draco?” You inquire, raising a curious brow at him as you tried to pull any bit of information from him you can. You make your way around the large kitchen table to where he leaned against the marble counter, standing on your tip-toes and kissing his cheek sweetly.

“Consider it your only one, my Darling. I’m not allowing you to spoil any more surprises.”

That last part is spoken against your lips, lips that soon meld together in a lovingly gentle kiss that tasted of coffee and cream. You sigh softly when you parted, but your longing for clues is just barely appeased for the time being. However, you were not letting this go and he knew it.

He was beginning to regret telling you about such surprises the day before because you hadn’t stopped asking for bits and pieces since, even going so far as to waking him in the middle of the night. You claimed you couldn’t sleep from the excitement, and he hadn’t minded the sweet kisses you had given to wake him. But now he was rather tired.

He watched after you with a soft smile as you disappeared from the large room momentarily, coming back with your coat and shoes on.

“Are you ready, love?”

Your tone was ever so sweet with more than a hint of excited impatience laced amongst your words. He was ready, save for his shoes. You had thought he’d looked absolutely handsome, though his choice in clothes had given no indication of what the plan was for the day. He was dressed in a simple gray t-shirt and a pair of black pants, rolled up once or twice at the ankles. At first he thought it looked absolutely ridiculous, but with a lot of wearing down on your end, he finally caved. His hair was a mess, icy blonde strands dipping down in his eyes as a chunk stuck out rebelliously in the very back. He had a habit of leaving his bedhead untouched much to his mothers dismay.

He set his mug down with a soft sigh and brushed past you with a tired kiss and a hum in response, moving to slip on his shoes. He grabbed his keys from a curved iron hook at the large double doors after he slipped on his jacket, laughing to himself as you eagerly skip ahead of him down the grand stone steps of the Manor and towards the car. The two of you could easily apparate just about anywhere in a matter of seconds, but Draco found he liked the experience of a road trip better. It was a way for him to clear his head when he found himself overwhelmed; that and it gave him more time alone with you. So he bought a car.

It wasn’t brand new or extravagantly fancy like one would expect from a Malfoy; it was a vintage Volkswagen Beetle. In all honesty, it hadn’t been his first choice and maybe not even his second or third. But you lit up immediately when you saw the little yellow car and he didn’t have it in him to get anything else. He found he’d do anything just to see you smile.

“Come on!” You call out, ducking into the car as he shakes his head with a chuckle.

He rushed to the drivers side before the rain could pelt on him too much, brushing the dampened hair away that stuck to his forehead.

“Have you always been this impatient?” He quips, laughing out when you swat his arm lightly in protest. His smile is nothing short of adoring as he leans across the center console, his fingers splayed over your cheek. “I’m only kidding, darling.”

His words are soft against your lips as he kisses you sweetly, reluctantly pulling away to start the car. However, his hand quickly finds yours as he drives down the stone path and away from the Manor, his soft smile never faltering as your fingers intertwine out of absentminded habit.

“Am I dressed too casually?” You ask, playing with his fingers as your enveloped hands sat in your lap.

“You look beautiful.”

You bite back your smile as you look ahead with a fluttering heart, and he sneaks a glance your way at the lack of response.

“What?” He asks.

“I’m starting to think you’ll always say that,” you sigh, looking at him with a raised brow.

“Because you always are,” he counters without second thought and you’ve got nothing else to say. He smiles triumphantly as a rosy blush stains your cheeks and you settle for playing with the ring on his finger instead, but not before turning on the radio.

A quiet laugh left your lips at his immediate grumbling, loathing the choice in music, he wasn’t too fond of ABBA and Fleetwood Mac just yet. But if it meant he’d gotten to hear your voice when you sing he’d listen to it everyday.

It was a concept that scared him a bit if he lingered on the thought for too long. From experiencing very little love at all to feeling an insurmountable desire for it was something new to him. Something he had been apprehensive to fully accept in fear that it’d slip from his fingers if he basked in it too much. He wasn’t used to things working in his favor after all. But you came into his life and turned his very world upside down in the best of ways, and he found it impossible not to give in to the love blossoming in his chest and taking over his entire being, nor did he want to.

But he still had his doubts, he still wondered how someone as truly magnificent as you could give your heart to a Malfoy. That simple fact still baffled him each and every time it crossed his mind, had you not realized? Regardless, he had intentions of loving you for as long as you’d let him.

You found yourself looking over at him with a smile after a little while, admiring the way waves of platinum hung over his forehead and brushed over his dark lashes. The way his thumb absentmindedly tapped at the steering wheel as he hummed softly along with the radio; he’d insisted he hated this song in particular but you knew that to be false. He looked nothing short of adorable as his gaze flickered around the little town you drove through, concentration etched into his expression.

“I’m aware of your staring, you know,” he says with a knowing smirk, looking over to confirm his suspicions. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re madly in love with me.”

Without hesitation, you leaned over and brought him close, pressing a kiss on his cheek and another to the freckle on his jaw. His smile was instant, the softest of blushes coloring his cheeks.

“Love, if you keep doing that I’m going to miss my turn,” he chuckles, glancing over to you.

You sigh as your thumb runs along his cheek softly and he tries his hardest not to flush any deeper than that. Though in a matter of moments, luck seemed to be on his side as the traffic light ahead turned from yellow to red. He pulled your hand from his face gently and leaned over, pressing his lips on yours in a tender kiss. He’d been dying to do so the very moment he pulled away from the Manor and he took advantage of the opportunity the second he was given one.

A horn soon blared behind him and with a startled glance his eyes land on a very green traffic light, but still he steals another quick peck before continuing on with the trip with a racing heart.

“Am I just too distracting?” You jest, sticking your hand out the window to feel the breeze now that the rain had subsided for now.

“You have no idea,” he chuckles softly as he smiles fondly at the road ahead.

—

Another twenty minutes had passed before Draco pulled into a smaller neighborhood, promptly telling you to close your eyes. You did so, but not without a dramatic sigh from you, and you missed the way a soft look of excitement had painted its way across his face.

A few turns were made before the car had come to a stop, Draco instructing you to stay put with a kiss to your cheek. He rushed around to the other side of the car eagerly, opening your door. With gentle actions he got you from the car and kicked the door shut behind him, snaking his arm around your waist.

“Don’t look yet, darling,” Draco urges, his hand over yours to ensure you weren’t peeking as he carefully guided you to wherever it was you had been. You playfully try and do the opposite of his words, laughing out when he squeezes you close.

He turns on his heel and steps in front of you to pull his hand away, allowing you to drop yours as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

“Ideally, I could have done without the rain, and maybe it could be a bit warmer too—” His words are quickly cut off by your protest, and he kisses your lips once more. He takes a breath as he looks at you for a few fleeting moments, stepping to the side.

A cottage stands before you, nestled comfortably amongst many others in the quiet neighborhood. You look at him with a puzzled expression, but he’s got a smile that won’t seem to go away.

It was obscenely beautiful, ivy tangling on every corner of the house, sticking to the gray stone slabs of its walls. The rooftop was slanted downward with dark slate colored shingles, a matching chimney on either side. Deep green shutters line each slightly fogged window and colorful flowers reached just under their windowsills. A beautifully aged wrought iron fence surrounded the perimeter, creaking rather noisily when opened. The door was hardwood, painted a matching green with a small arched window at the very top.

Clusters of wildflowers had dotted amongst the lush grass, and a blossoming tree stood on either side of the pathway, sending flower petals fluttering to the ground like rain.

It looked like a place taken right out of a fairytale.

“Why are we at someone’s house?”

He stands there timidly, his smile growing as rain droplets catch in his platinum hair.

“It’s not just someone’s house,” He laughs softly, scratching the back of his neck. The nerves swirl in his stomach as the words catch in his throat briefly. “It’s ours.”

Not completely, a few documents needed signing, but it was yours. It had been Madam Pomfrey’s home, but as of late she’d decided that a smaller residence much closer to Hogwarts would be far more manageable. Draco had been her first and only choice to offer her beloved home to, considering him to be an honorable young healer who made a concerted effort to turn his life around.

The generous offer was one Draco couldn’t object to, finding that another minute living within the Manor would surely be maddening. It wasn’t that the two of you had outgrown it in the six years you’d spent there after the war. He’s not sure if even the entire student body of Hogwarts could outgrow it, it was large and luxurious. But it wasn’t comfortable to reside in a place that held such undesirable memories, he felt as though it wasn’t allowing him to move on from that time in his life just half a decade prior.

His father had just over half his sentence left in Azkaban and he wouldn’t be coming home in the near future, but he wasn’t fond of running into him again. Draco felt being on opposite ends of the Manor was not enough distance, especially when his father had an unwavering distaste for the love of his life. He wanted a place where he could live freely, a place where he was able to kiss you and love you wherever he pleased. And this was it.

Your confusion had only grown in that very moment, your brows knitting together as you narrow your eyes curiously at him. You opened your mouth to speak, but weren’t exactly sure what to say as shock still had its hold on you.

Before you could find the words, Draco grabbed your hand, tugging you along the mossy cobblestone walkway. “Come on.”

He plucked a small silver key from under a flowerpot and stuck it in the lock, turning back to look at you with a sheepish grin before twisting the copper doorknob.

The moment he opened the door you were hit with the scent of cinnamon and sugar, the sweet air adding a certain warmth to the place. The cozy living room was furnished with an armchair in the far corner and you assumed it was intentionally placed by the window for reading, a yellow knit blanket strewn across the tattered leather. An aged brick fireplace was paces away from it, and a loveseat adorned the opposite wall with a worn flannel blanket draped over the arm. The walls were painted a beautiful sage green, wood beams stretching across the ceiling as a lamp or two lit up the room in a warm glow.

Your hand immediately slipped from his the moment your eyes landed on the bookshelf along the wall, nearly full of books that looked quite familiar. Too familiar not to notice.

“So this is where my books have disappeared to?”

The quiet laugh behind you was confirmation enough as you ran your fingers across the worn spines. A framed picture came into view, a picture of the two of you captured within it. When you turn to him with an amused expression and a raised brow his cheeks flush a pale pink as he shrugs his shoulders, scratching the back of his neck once more.

“I wanted to see how it’d look,” he defends, clearly flustered the more you linger on the subject.

You roll your eyes as you kiss his cheek, taking his hand again. “Alright, Malfoy, take me to the next room.”

The kitchen was noticeably different than the one at your current home. Instead of obsidian black cabinets, these were a light rusted color. Rather than a large mahogany kitchen table, there was a small circular one located just below a window. Small plants resided on the windowsill over the sink, teacups hanging by their handles on a set of brass hooks on the soft yellow wall. What was quite possibly the cutest part was the jade colored oven and it’s matching fridge. It was a delightfully vibrant contrast to the color palette of grays and charcoals and whites adorning the furniture at the Manor.

You were seconds away from tugging back the frilly cream curtains over the windows when Draco stopped you.

You gave him a curious look and he gave one back as he pulled you along to another hallway. With each and every room the two of you had looked at, the more anxious Draco had become. He hadn’t told you about it first, after all. He was starting to wonder if you’d even liked it, he was starting to wonder if you’d been mad that he went out and did this on his own without your input.

“Draco!”

He’s quickly pulled from his thoughts before he gets too tangled up in them, finding you running your hands over the navy blue velvet pillows of the window seat in your soon-to-be bedroom. The look on your face is nothing but one of excitement and joy, and it eases the tension in his body and the nerves bubbling in his stomach.

You’d been mentioning your desire for a window seat ever since sixth year when you sat along the grand windowsills of the castle. You insisted there was no better place to read than that, and he hadn’t forgotten. He certainly knew it’d be more comfortable to sit in when you inevitably fall asleep on his chest. He didn’t know how much more his body could take of slumping against cold stone when you fell asleep after hushed stories of classic novels had been abandoned in empty corridors. However, he couldn’t bring himself to wake you when you were so content.

“I knew you’d like it the moment I saw it,” he chuckles, bringing you close by a grip on your hands.

“You remembered,” you say softly, the tip of his nose brushing against yours as he laughs against your lips.

“How could I forget?” You respond with a sweet kiss, his hands squeezing yours gently before letting them go in favor of wrapping around your waist. His lips parted from yours to press chaste kisses to your nose, to your cheek, ever so tenderly to the underside of your jaw, and perhaps the softest to ghost over your neck. He has to stop himself before he becomes to distracted with you. “There’s one more suprise, darling.”

His words are whispered against your hair as he kisses your temple, and you’re quick to grab his hands. “What are we waiting for?”

You follow him down the curved staircase and once you reach the bottom he asks you to close your eyes once again. This time you do so without protest, his hand warm in yours as he pulls you outside. The chilly spring temperatures were a noticeable contrast to the warmth inside the cottage but you didn’t mind it very much.

“I thought you would like this the most,” he smiles, squeezing your hand before you open your eyes.

The sight before you was unlike any other you’d ever seen. Vibrant green grass served as pathways amongst the flowerbeds that curved around them. Dozens of meticulously placed floral bushes filled the space, neatly trimmed and well cared for. Wooden pergola’s with beautiful archways had stood between arrangements of fluffy hydrangeas, curls of vines snaking up its rain soaked beams to form a cluster of greenery and flowers atop it.

The gardens at Malfoy Manor seemed to have paled in comparison to this. It may not have been even half the size of Narcissa’s, but it held a different kind of beauty, one that cannot be put into words. Perhaps you deemed it better because it was your own. One that didn’t house memories of secret rendezvous’ in the late hours of the night to share hushed kisses behind moss-covered statues as teens. Staying up running hand in hand through rows of pristine red roses, sharing whispered ‘I love you’s’ under glowing moonlight and twinkling stars.

It was new and it was beautiful. It was yours.

New kisses could be shared with disregard for prying eyes, declarations of love could be shouted without repercussion. Draco could pluck as many flowers as he wanted to for you without being scolded by his mother for missing blossoms.

Utterly enchanted, you walk along the winding green paths, your fingertips brushing over soft flower petals as the light rain droplets collected across your cheeks. Draco was in tow, but found himself too enamored by you to put one foot in front of the other, deciding he was perfectly content with admiring you from afar.

The scent of flowers and rain flooded your senses with every step you took, and as if you weren’t already in love with this place, surely you were now.

You twirl once in the blooming garden, it’s flowers vibrant and thriving against the pale gray sky. It was when you stopped to stand still with a jovial laugh that your eyes landed on Draco. He stood there, hands by his sides as he looked at you with such fondness your heart fluttered in your chest and a soft shade of scarlet colored your cheeks.

You were quick to close any remaining gap between you, your arms wrapping around his neck as you lean on your toes and kiss him. He drops the keys he’d been holding as his hands settle on your rosy cheeks, and he steadies himself from your sudden embrace. Your fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck gingerly, a small laugh escaping your lips and breaking the kiss. But you weren’t quite finished, chasing after his lips for another soft peck.

“Does this mean you like it?” He asks softly, tracing his finger down the length of your neck and back again to rest under your chin.

Your smile was bright as you look up at him, your fingers trailing down his shoulders to play with the buttons of his coat. His pale blue eyes were full of hope as his thumb brushes over your jaw before dropping to your waist to pull you closer.

“I love it,” you murmur against his lips. His breath fanned across your own in an airy laugh, his forehead resting on yours only briefly. “You bought us a house!”

“Well, technically Madam Pomfrey—”

You put your finger over his lips with a laugh, effectively quieting him as a soft smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He grabbed your wrist softly and pulled your hand away, sighing as you turn around to admire the sweet little home once more. His arms circle around your waist as you lean back against his chest, stifling a laugh when you feel the soft kisses he’s peppering across the crook of your neck.

It really was beautiful, down to every last detail one could possibly think of. It was almost unbelievable how a place so wonderful could exist, how it could be yours. But Draco had always been full of surprises, you learned that rather quickly.

In a matter of moments, the rain increased to a pace too hard to ignore and you gasp at the cold droplets hitting your skin. You were quick to grab his hand, rushing off to the nearest pergola for some form of shelter from it. The flower covered trellis only gave way to a few splashes but it didn’t seem to matter in that current moment.

Your laughter died down to an airy giggle, your hands resting on his chest. His cheeks were flushed from the brisk spring weather as he gazed down at you, his thumb tracing over your lip before his fingers swept over your cheek. He was completely obvious with his admiring, his eyes bouncing from the freckles on your cheeks—ones that could only be seen at such a proximity— to your very irresistible lips, and back to your eyes.

“Are you sure you like it?” Hesitancy has woven its way around his quiet words. It was a big commitment after all, and it wasn’t something he was accustomed to just yet, especially at twenty-four. But what weighed on his mind was the possibility that you would come to regret making such a choice—with him. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you pretended to ponder the question, but you couldn’t bring yourself to continue for a moment longer with the way he’d been looking at you. In a wordless response you press your lips on his softly, parting for only a moment before he pulls you closer for another. Any doubts he may have held had vanished from his mind your lips meld with his in a lingering kiss.

His cheeks are more flushed than before as you pull away to look at him, the sight of your kiss swollen lips making it hard to focus on anything else.

“Draco Malfoy, I’d go anywhere as long as I’m with you.”

—

Tags: @amourtentiaa

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fic #harry potter fic

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unbridgeabledistances · 3 years

Text

okayyy so i had something heavier/hurt-comforty in the works as a gapfiller about mickey processing (bc we all need that!!!) but this fluffy little 3+1 about ian and mickey singing to each other happened instead— i hope u enjoy💞

a 3+1 of 3 times ian sang to mickey, and one time mickey sang to ian (to give context to the absolutely wild 11x09 serenade)

also the biggest shoutout to @southside-forever’s 80s gallavich playlist which has SO many bops and inspired bits of this😌

Mickey didn’t really know when it all started— Ian was always fucking humming these days, always whistling or singing some tune under his breath when he came out of the shower. He was more buoyant recently, lighter— the security gig was going well, and these days it felt like something looming and heavy had lifted, releasing the crooked hunch out of Ian’s shoulders that had taken root the sour morning weeks before as he shoveled Fruit Loops and Jameson into his mouth. Since then, it felt like he and Ian were finally on the same goddamn page for once— like they had a purpose, like they were moving forward.

Or at least, moving forward on the weekdays— but today was a slow, lazy Saturday, and Mickey was still laying in bed in a tank top and boxers, sweaty and entangled in the crumpled sheets, laying back with his head on the pillow and playing some overly-gory sharpshooter game on his phone. He’d been trying to beat this fucking level a million times, but his thumb couldn’t move quickly enough at the pivotal moment when he had to shoot a bunch of enemy forces— he’d been at the game for a good half hour, since when Ian had sleepily stumbled off of the mattress sporting a full bedhead to go take a shower, and Mickey was starting to get a tinny, sharp headache from staring at his phone screen for too long. He was just starting to consider getting up, to peel off his sweaty tank top and head downstairs to grab some coffee— when Ian came into the room from his shower, a fraying towel wrapped around his lower half and his torso slick with excess water droplets. Mickey flickered his eyes up from his game for a moment, taking an… appreciative glance, and then quickly focused his attention back on his pixelated mission as Ian stood in front of the dresser in the cramped bedroom, and started to rustle through the drawers for a t-shirt.

Mickey maneuvered his buff video game avatar through a minefield, biting his lip in concentration— when his sharp focus was suddenly infiltrated by Ian, singing under his breath in an airy tone.

“Ooooooh we’re halfway there.”

Mickey gritted his teeth slightly and tried to pour all his attention into the pivotal moment of the level, but half of his mind was being pulled to listen to Ian’s gravelly voice, continuing to softly murmur to himself in a tone that was ridiculously off-key.

“She says we’ve gotta hoooold on, to what we’ve got—”

Mickey’s phone screen flickered. GAME OVER.

Mickey wanted to throw his phone at the fucking wall. He inhaled, then pressed “Start Game” again, one last time— and again, his focus was disrupted by Ian, singing under his breath as he pulled on his jeans and gently pattered his hands in a rhythm on the top of the dresser— which was endearing and sappy as fuck, sure, but it was not helping Mickey with the task at hand. Mickey puffed out a sharp, frustrated breath, keeping his eyes on his phone screen.

“The fuck are you singing for right now?”

Ian suddenly gave a sheepish smile over his shoulder as he rifled through their sock drawer, like he’d been caught in the middle of doing something wrong.

“Don’t know. Song was just stuck in my head I guess.”

Mickey glared at Ian, pressing his thumb to the screen to pause his game. “Cut that shit out.”

Ian rolled his eyes fondly, sitting on the edge of the mattress to pull on his socks. “You should be thanking me for serenading you with your fucking eighties dad music. I could be singing Carly Rae Jepson right now, or some other pop bullshit that you hate.”

Mickey felt an involuntary, amused smirk split onto his face, and he tried to turn it into a scowl. Fucking adorable motherfucker.

“Okay, tough guy. If anything you should be thanking me for cleansing your ears from the techno garbage that you used to listen to.”

Ian gave a soft smile, shoulders turning fully towards Mickey now that he’d finished pulling on his socks— and then he turned and clambered into the bed, hovering above Mickey and causing Mickey’s fingers to go slack around his phone case. Mickey could smell the warm, freshly-showered scent of him, all cheap bar soap and Old Spice deodorant, and felt the soft press of his t-shirt through Mickey’s thin tank top— an overly worn t-shirt, one of Mickey’s, that stretched just a little too tight over Ian’s torso.

Ian looked down at Mickey, fucking beaming for some reason, his eyes light. He swooped down, pressing a soft, quick kiss above Mickey’s eyebrow. And then—

“Take my haaaand, we’ll make it I sweeear”

Mickey felt an involuntary, uncomfortable chuckle bubble up out of his ribcage. Was Ian fucking… singing? To him? It definitely seemed like it. And as much as he didn’t want it to, because this was fucking sappy and ridiculous and… well, gay— Mickey couldn’t help the fact that his husband leaning over him, breathily singing the tune of one of their goddamn wedding songs in his husky tone-deaf voice, made Mickey’s blood run a little bit hotter; which was bullshit, because absolutely nothing about this should be hot, and it was probably the most disgustingly married thing that Mickey could think of— but apparently everything about Ian, every dorky and fucking god-awful cringey thing that he did, was a turn-on, or at least according to Mickey’s thudding heartbeat and sweaty palms right now.

Ian’s face was still hovering centimeters above his, his eyebrows raised triumphantly and sporting a sappy fucking grin, like he knew how affected Mickey was by this, no matter how much Mickey grumbled and complained and tried to hide it.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “You’re fucking soft, Gallagher.”

Ian just leaned down again, kissing up the slope of Mickey’s neck and biting at his earlobe—and, okay, maybe Mickey could get behind Ian’s singing after all.

Ian’s singing was starting to get fucking ridiculous— and as much as it made something deep inside Mickey feel a light pang of relief, to see Ian being his old bubbly self again in the rhythms of routine and held by the safety net of financial stability because of the security gig that made the air between them less stale, it also meant that they were also around each other pretty much 24/7, and Ian’s serenades were starting to get relentless.

While they pretty much had a common ground in liking nostalgic 80s music, they would still inevitably argue about what music to play in the ambulance every morning— and whatever shitty album they eventually chose to put on, whether it was Ian’s pop garbage of Mickey’s mellower 80s tunes, Ian’s brain would apparently absorb all the songs like a fucking sponge and he’d start singing them all day long—in the kitchen, in the shower, even when they were just laying in bed on their phones and Ian would constantly hum absentmindedly.

Today they were driving to some bougie dispensary in Glencoe, near a bunch of ridiculous mansions on the very outskirts of the city, and it was Ian’s turn to pick the music— Mickey usually elected one of the well-loved CDs that he’d jammed into the glove compartment as they were refurbishing the ambulance, CDs that he’d kept since he was a kid when he piled them high in the corner of his grimy room next to a half-broken boombox— but as much as they were Mickey’s comfort CDs, Ian could only listen to Bon Jovi so many times before he started to slander 80s music as a collective genre.

“Can we just listen to something by someone who isn’t older than us, just this once?”

“Easy for you to say, Gallagher. At least the music that I like has fucking words.”

When it was Ian’s turn to pick the music, he usually picked more modern stuff with heavy beats and a thrumming bass (though more often than not he also appeased Mickey’s tastes with some “80s throwback” playlist he’d found on Spotify that he’d noticed Mickey would bob his head along to)—but on longer drives, like this one, it was easy to butt heads about the soundtrack. Ian had allowed Mickey to play through one of his Queen CDs that morning, and then Ian had put on some whiny indie bullshit from a playlist on his phone for the other half of the drive— now they were heading home after a long day, with the stereo turned low to a local radio station.

They’d settled into a comfortable silence, as they often did at the end of the day when their energy faded— Ian had stopped pattering his hands on the steering wheel like he usually did when he was amped up and buzzing with energy in the mornings, and Mickey could tell they were both ready to collapse onto the couch the second they set foot in the door.

Mickey blew out a deflated breath and reached to turn up the radio, tuning in to some middle-aged host with a cheery voice chattering about the heat wave in Chicago that upcoming weekend—and then the airwaves went silent, and there was the overdramatic sound of a slamming door and a gospel choir.

Ian’s ears nearly fucking perked up at the sound as the opening chords began.

“Life is a mystery… Everyone must stand alone…”

Ian immediately raised his voice to join in, the tired slouch leaving his shoulders.

“I hear you call my naaaame”

He turned to Mickey and pointed overdramatically, causing Mickey to shove his arm away but unable to quell the overly fond grin that he knew was blooming on his face.

“And it feels like… home.”

The beat dropped, rolling into the chorus, and Ian energetically drummed his hands against the steering wheel once more.

“C’mon, Mick!” Ian laughed, throwing his head back dramatically as he sang while still trying to keep his eyes on the road.

“When you call my name, it’s like a little prayer, I’m down on my knees, I wanna take you there.” Ian’s pitchiness clashed with the melody, but he was too focused on singing and bopping side to side in this seat to really care.

Mickey rolled his eyes, his lips still turned upwards at the corners while he watched his absolute dork of a husband jamming to Madonna. “Isn’t this song about giving someone a blowjob or some shit?”

Ian gave an easygoing laugh. “Technically, yes. And it’s also definitionally a gay anthem, which means you have to sing with me.”

Mickey scoffed and flipped Ian off. “Fuck off.”

Ian raised a playful eyebrow, and continued to sing with relentless eye contact:

“It’s like a dreeeeam, no end and no beginning”

Mickey felt heat rise into his cheeks against his will. No fucking way was he going to sing a Madonna song about a blowjob stone-cold sober at 2pm on a Tuesday while driving home from work with his fucking husband—which, wow, that was probably the gayest sentence that had ever crossed Mickey’s mind in his 26 years of existence (which was definitely saying a lot).

This wasn’t ever a place Mickey thought he’d be in— sitting beside Ian so comfortably, singing fucking songs while they drove home from their daily commute; getting to soak up all the warmth, all the brightness that had always radiated out of Ian so intensely that it nearly blinded him, a warmth that he’d always wanted to lean in closer to even when they were just scrawny kids in a shitty neighborhood still figuring everything out.

Maybe, just maybe— it was okay to lean in a little more.

By the time the chorus rolled around the third time, Mickey was begrudgingly humming along, like he usually did whenever the songs that Ian was singing on and endless loop got stuck in his own head and popped up while he was brushing his teeth or making toast for breakfast— by the time the final rhythmic chorus faded to silence on the radio waves, Mickey glanced over at Ian, singing at the top of his lungs, face slightly flushed and grinning ear to ear.

“Just like a prayer, your voice can take me there.”

Ian and Mickey were walking down the moonlit sidewalk, veering back home after an evening at Lip’s— the night had honestly been weirdly enjoyable, which was definitely a welcome reprieve from all of Lip and Debbie’s intense back-and-forths about the house over the past few weeks. Tami and Lip had needed to go over to Brad and Cami’s for some bullshit crisis management about the stolen bikes, and Ian had readily agreed to watch Freddie— which meant that whether he liked it or not, Mickey had spent his Friday evening at Lip’s half-packed apartment watching Ian coo over a one-year-old, which was… not a totally unwelcome sight.

Trying to keep his shit together, Mickey had snapped a picture to send to the Gallagher family group chat, and everyone had immediately given them shit about being so eager to babysit and get their hands on a toddler like a couple of baby-crazed newlyweds—which had caused Mickey to start overzealously complaining in the groupchat to compensate while Ian occupied Freddie. Kev had noticed the texts and swung by Lip and Tami’s house after closing the Alibi to keep the two of them company, bringing by a pack of beers—and now he and Ian were warm and happily buzzed, relieved of their babysitting duties and walking the chilly city streets back towards the Gallagher house.

Halfway through the walk Ian had interlaced their fingers, and now their arms were swinging slightly as they turned the final corner to walk down the last stretch of pavement towards the chain-link fence—when suddenly, Ian stopped cold a few houses away from the Gallagher front porch. He looked down at Mickey, raising their entangled hands and pressing a kiss to the inside of Mickey’s wrist.

Mickey raised an eyebrow in confusion, and Ian just looked back at him—his cheeks glowing pink from the few beers, his eyes light and unguarded under the streetlamps.

“This spot reminded me of something.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. Of fucking course it did. Ian was a sappy motherfucker on the best of days, but with a couple of beers in him he was practically uncontrollable.

“What?”

All of a sudden Ian let go of his hand, punching into the air dramatically.

“Cause love is a battlefiiiield”

Mickey laughed, feeling warm hot blood rush to his cheeks in delight—and fuck, he loved his husband so goddamn much. And just this once, mostly because of the own alcohol running thick in his bloodstream, Mickey made the lurching decision to join in, stepping closer towards Ian and raising his hands equally as dramatically.

“No promises, no demands”

“Woooooah”

Ian had practically doubled over with laughter, tears welling in the corner of his eyes—and Mickey let himself get lost in it, the warm feeling buzzing through his body, of love and joy and fuck knows what else, getting to sing on a fucking street corner with his husband a decade after everything had gone so gut-wrenchingly wrong, leaving him bleeding on this same pavement.

They stumbled over their own feet up the stairs, fumbling out of their clothes and collapsing into bed—and later, just as Mickey was on the brink of fading into unconsciousness, Ian mumbled the same refrain into the crook of Mickey’s neck in a sleepy voice, like the song was still stuck in his head and he just couldn’t help it.

“Love is a battlefield.”

It was late— it was one of those slow, tender nights when the past was hanging heavy over them, laying pressed together in bed as thin streams of moonlight poured in through the blinds, pressing whispers into each other’s skin about all of the hurt and the doubt that had been seeped up and healed with time.

Ian was sprawled back on the bed and Mickey was laying with his head resting on his chest, feeling his ribcage expand and contract each time he took a breath. They’d absorbed so much the past few weeks— the sick, twisted blows of a loss that felt all the more jagged and painful because of how muddled the grief for Terry was—but after a few days had passed they’d found a place to settle, in the comforting press of the silence in their bedroom.

Mickey was mindlessly playing with Ian’s fingers, listening to his steady breathing—and without thinking, he ran a finger over the cool silver of Ian’s wedding band, letting out a breathy chuckle.

“I still can’t believe we’re married sometimes, man.”

Mickey could feel Ian’s lips curve upward into a smile from where his mouth was pressed against the top of Mickey’s head.

“Yeah, me either.”

And Mickey felt something bubbling, something welling— and he didn’t ever fucking sing, not unless Ian made him, but Ian was always fucking dropping song lines into sappy moments like this.

So he took a breath, and, half-singing but mostly talking, in a way that sounded almost mocking if it wasn’t so soft around the edges, he let out into the dark silence of the room:

“At last….”

He wasn’t even singing, not really—he was just sort of… saying the words in a singsongy way, but he knew that Ian could tell what he was doing, what he was trying to do. He was trying to be as fucking sweet and soft and pliant as Ian was, as Ian always was in moments like this, in a way that sometimes made Mickey feel brittle and hard in comparison. This time, Mickey wanted to breathe out the love he had for him into this moment, the love that made his ribcage feel like it was going to fucking burst— a love that he felt erupting outwards when Ian had played this song for him for the first time a few weeks before the wedding, and had asked with a shy smile, “D’you think it’d be okay if you walked down the aisle to this song?”

Ian’s chest shook with laughter, and he carded a hand through Mickey’s hair. And then, in his gentle, sleep-soft voice, in a breathy tone that tickled the shell of Mickey’s ear:

“My looove has come along”

Mickey rolled his eyes fondly, just to prove something to himself, even though he knew Ian couldn’t see him—and then he reached a hand upward and leaned back, drawing Ian’s chin forward to press his lips to his for a brief, lingering moment.

Mickey settled back against Ian’s chest again, and felt Ian press a kiss to the top of his head. He smiled contentedly, closing his heavy eyelids.

Maybe being a couple of sappy motherfuckers wasn’t so bad.

#i wrote this so fast bc it is midterms szn and i am a busy bee! but simply needed to get this out of my brain #i love y’all and hope u enjoy the softness!!#also @ the anon asked me for more drunk happy husbands here u go<3 #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #ian x mickey #ixm #ian and mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich fanfiction

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