#but my dad (the fool) goes nah you’ll be fine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arvinsescape · 3 years

Note

we really don't see enough imagines of tom teaching y/n how to play golf, it's classic romance. Could you write one? Thanks! x

Golf date.

A/N: I absolutely agree with this!! I feel like he'd be so excited to show you how to play!! Thank you for sending this in!! I hope you enjoy 💕💕

Warnings: Suggestive content. A writer who knows nothing about golf.

You'd been with Tom for almost a year, been to the golf course many times with him, you enjoyed watching him play. You were no good at the sport yourself, no good at all. Usually he went with his dad or Harry, playing with either of them in an intense game as you watched.

This time was a little different, you'd all gone on the golf retreat holiday, only this time you'd all met him there. Usually you'd both have a few days before going, having time to spend together before seeing other people, this time, not so much.

As much as Tom wanted to have an intense round of golf with his dad and Harry, he also wanted to spend time with you. He wanted you close, as close as physically possible to him and watching as you sat and watched wasn't close enough. It wasn't enough for him right now, you'd not seen in each other properly in three weeks and he missed you.

"You guys go on ahead." You heard Tom say as the finished a hole, piquing your interest, he was always eager to move onto the next.

"You not coming?" Harry asked.

"Nah, I'll catch up to you." Tom said and Harry furrowed his brows.

"What? You're not that far behind me." Harry said, Tom was losing this game apparently, none of it made any sense to you but you'd heard enough of his dad and brother's teasing to know he wasn't winning.

"You and dad finish up, I'm dropping out." Tom said as he gestured his head in your direction and Harry made a face to show he understood.

"Ah, yeah, I got you. See you at the end then?" Harry said as Tom nodded. Harry followed after their dad and you furrowed your brows as Tom turned to you.

"Come on." He said as he stretched his hand out for you to take, grabbing his gold gear with the other.

"Didn't wanna lose and listen to them gloat?" You teased and Tom smiled as your hand fell into his, walking slowly to the next hole.

"Something like that." He replied, you both watched as Harry and Dom finished their round to move onto the next. Tom standing behind you as he wrapped his arms around your waist and placed small kisses to your neck in comfort as you talked about anything and everything. Just enjoying each other's company.

"Right," he said as he moved from behind you to stand next to you and you furrowed your brows as he moved for his stuff. It wasn't long before he pulled a club out and made his way back to you.

"Tom, what? I can't play." You laughed as he handed you the club.

"I'm gonna teach you." He smiled as he held the club up higher, gesturing you to take it.

"You are not going to have the patience for my terrible coordination." You snorted, you'd seen how seriously he took the game, he never fooled around when he played.

"I have all the patience in the world for you." Tom defended and you raised your brows.

"We'll see Tom." You said as you took the club. It was surprisingly heavier than you expected, they were in good shape, you'd seen Harry's enough to know what worn clubs looked like and Tom's were the opposite. Pristine condition, he looked after them like they were trophy's.

"Okay, this," he held a tee up to you. "Goes in the ground." He said as he placed it in the grass. "Then you put the ball on top." He finished as he fished a ball from his pocket and put it on top of the tee. "Then you take a swing." He said as he gestured for you to step up.

"That simple?" You asked with raised brows. If that's all it took to play you couldn't understand why people got so angry playing it.

"Well no," he laughed, "but you need to get the hang of this before before we even discuss wind speeds and direction..." You zoned out as you became entranced watching him talk about it. You'd always enjoyed watching him play, watching how deep into it he got, brows furrowed, bottom lip held between his teeth and don't even mention how good he looked in the gear.

"Darling?" He suddenly brought you back to earth with a laugh as you cleared your throat.

"I was listening, sorry." You said and he hummed.

"What was it I was talking about again?" He asked and you silently cursed yourself.

"I wasn't listening." You admitted in defeat and he laughed.

"Okay, come on sweetheart." He said again as he gestured for you take a swing. You held the club back out to him.

"Show me?" You said and he smirked.

"I'm not letting you get distracted." He knew you liked to watch him play, he knew it got you all hot and bothered, the evidence was in the many afternoons you'd practically jumped on him when you'd returned back to the hotel room.

"I won't, I won't." You held your hands up and he raised a brow as you sighed in defeat, he wasn't gonna let you get distracted. "Fine."

You stepped up and stood in front of him, you'd seen him stand enough to know you stood to the side before taking a swing. You stood and Tom laughed, his foot coming between your own and coaxing them apart.

"Feet level with your shoulders darling." You did as he said, placing the club in the position you'd seen a thousand times. "Good, now just swing for it." You did and well, it was awful, you completely missed the ball, somehow. You heard Tom laugh in endearment.

"Okay love, here." He said as he observed your grip on the club. "More like this." He said as he moved your hands, your heart warming at the contact.

"What difference is that gonna make?" You snorted and Tom smiled at you as he moved out of the way.

"You'll see." He said, "try again." He encouraged and you smiled as you swung for the ball again. You hit it this time but it was pathetic, it didn't travel very far at all. You couldn't help the laugh that came from you at the pathetic attempt.

"I think I'm better at mini golf." You laughed, completely amused at how terrible you'd done. "How do you hit it so far?" You turned to him, a smile on his face as he watched you laugh.

"Well, I mean, I do have bigger muscles darling." He said as he flexed his bicep and you snorted as you playfully punched it. "Hey," he laughed.

"Sorry," you playfully said as you 'kissed it better' and brought your hand around it, feeling it. You loved his arms and it was no secret.

"Feeling me up love?" He said as he brought his hand to your cheek and pulled you in for a kiss. It was sweet, innocent, nothing behind it other than having missed one another. You pulled away and placed your forehead against it.

"You wish." You teased as you moved away from him and he smirked.

"You're right, I do." He said and you laughed. "Okay, I'll show you how you hit it further." He said as he grasped your waist, kissing the tip of your nose before turning you around in his hold.

His hands came over yours on the club, your back pressed to his chest, you were half distracted now, distracted by how close he was. "M'okay," he said softly as he guided you. "Keep your eye on the ball before swinging back." He said and you felt his breath hit your neck, you couldn't help but let your head flop back onto his shoulder.

"I thought you weren't gonna let me get distracted." You said and he let out of breathy laugh before kissing your cheek.

"It's not my fault you can't concentrate." He teased as he lifted a hand to poke your side before placing it back over your own. "Okay, eye on the ball," he said as you lifted your head to look at the ball on the tee. "Swing back," he said as he guided you. "You need to follow through, make sure you use your body too, it's not just your arms that you need to make it go further." He explained.

He helped you, showing you what he meant, he practically did it for you, you watched as the ball disappeared. Tom lowered the club, taking it from your grasp. "See? It's mostly in the hip movement." He said and you turned to look at him.

"I think I have that." You said and Tom smirked.

"Oh, I know you have that." He winked and you laughed.

"You're gross."

"You love it." He said as he pulled you closer by your waist and flush against his chest. He placed a kiss to your lips and you hummed into it as you moved away "I love you." He said and you smiled as you used your hand to rub his bicep.

"I love you."

You walked hand in hand to find the ball, it had gone far but nowhere near as far as you'd watched Tom hit it on a good day. You stopped at the ball and took your next swing, it went far better this time, not as far as your previous hit but further than your first.

It wasn't long before you were at the hole, the flag sticking up from it as Tom removed it. You were about to take another shot when Tom laughed.

"Not with that one, wrong club." He said and you let out a quiet 'oh.' "Here." He said as he handed you one of the many clubs he had with him.

"There's different clubs for different things?" You asked as you swapped clubs, this one much lighter and Tom laughed shaking his head.

"You really don't pay any attention when you watch me play do you?"

"Yes. I pay attention." You defended yourself.

"To what exactly?" He raised his brows with an amused smile.

"You never specified what I don't pay attention to." You challenged with a smirk and he rolled his eyes playfully.

"When you say you pay attention, watching my arms and arse doesn't count." He said and you mocked understanding.

"Then I suppose you're right, I don't pay attention." You smirked and Tom laughed, watching as you tapped the ball, it didn't go too far and Tom laughed. "What?"

"You're gonna need to hit it a little harder than that, sweetheart. Can you feel how much lighter that club is in comparison to the other?" He asked and you nodded. "You need a little more force." He said and you nodded again, taking your next shot and watching as it rolled into the hole.

"Yes!" You exclaimed. "I'm not as bad as I thought I was gonna be."

"You're doing great darling." Tom said as he pulled you in for another kiss.

It wasn't long before you found yourself enjoying the game, you were getting slightly better, gaining an understanding for how to play. Tom guided you, talked you through how to get out of situations, laughing as you got angry when you ended up in the sand.

"Right," you said as you stepped up for the last and final hole. "I'm in the lead." You said and Tom smiled, he was definitely letting you win, claiming he was having a very bad game. You knew he was throwing it, you'd seen him when he was having a genuinely bad round and this was not it. He had no frustrations towards himself, no cursing under his breath, he was letting you win.

"I know what I need." You said, mischievous glint in your eye. "I figured out what I'm missing." You said and Tom furrowed his brows as he looked at you.

"What?" He asked and as soon as the words left his lips you'd taken his hat off his head. Placing it upon your own as you laughed, Tom smiled as he let you take it, you looked adorable in it anyway.

"I am the champion." You smirked as you watched the ball roll into the final hole. "You really are off your game today." You teased and you watched as Tom shrugged.

"What can I say? It happens." He said and you hummed.

"Sure Tom, sure."

"Oh, you just wait until I'm having a good day, you'll be sorry." He smirked as he packed his stuff away. "Besides, I couldn't see because of the sun, I could've pulled it back."

"I don't think so, face it, I'm just gonna be a better player than you." You laughed as you walked back to the hotel hand in hand, fingers laced together as they both became wrapped in warmth.

"Oh? You want a rematch? I'll take you tomorrow." He said as he squeezed your hand.

"I'd rather you took me in the shower." You teased and he snorted.

"You are something else." He shook his head.

"Not my fault you look so good in your golf attire." You smirked as you took your hand from his and smacked his behind, Tom grasping your arm and spinning you to face him, pulling you against him.

"Watch it." He raised a suggestive brow.

"Or what? What you gonna do Tom?" You challenged as he pulled you closer, hand leaving your arm as he slapped your arse back, giving a small squeeze after.

"Oh darling, you know exactly what I'll do." He whispered as he kissed you, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, your quiet gasp filling the air as he pulled back and released it.

"I'd rather you showed me." You whispered, lips ghosting each other's.

"You don't want to carry on teasing me baby, we both know who's better at it." He said and your breath hitched, the atmosphere between you shifting from playful to arousal.

You pulled him in for a kiss, this one more suggestive, bodies pulled close to each other as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you tight against him. One hand going to his hair and the other landing on his bicep, the kiss hot and heavy.

He pulled back for a breath and you took his bottom lip between your teeth as he pulled away, smirk evident on his face. You looked at him innocently, knowing what it would do to him, you had him in the palm of your hand now.

"Shower?" You said and you heard as he hummed before pulling back, stepping away from you.

"I fancy a drink actually. Besides I'm sure that's where dad and Harry will be by now." Tom said as he set off towards the hotel's bar, you scurrying after him.

"Tom!" You said, almost desperately as he turned to you with a smirk you knew all too well.

"I told you darling, we both know who's better at teasing and I'm not finished yet."

#tom holland blurb #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff

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teddy06writes · 3 years

Text

The Phantom Of The Opera AU

requested by this anon: “Okay so I know you’re a musical kid so you have probably listened to/heard of Phantom of the Opera. Picture this: Dream as the Phamtom x Fem!reader as Christine x Sapnap as Raul”

Dream x Fem!reader and Sapnap x fem!reader (with dream as the phantom and sapnap as Raul)

trigger warnings: death, dream being a low key creeper, maybe some swears, my general lack of knowledge of this musical

premise: Phantom AU, not neccicarily the full story, its mainly what I’ve seen/read/listened to that I think is important, and like eight of the songs. Ummm, I feel like the summary above is enough for you to get the general idea.

(y/l/n)- your last name

“blep” regular talking

“Belp” singing

When things are in counterpoint, regular text will be (y/n), (text in parenthesis is sapnap), and {bracketed text is Dream}

if you, like me are unfamilliar with the story, this is the summary that arrived in my inbox last night (thank you so much to the person who sent that by the way, it really helped)

“So basically phantom of the opera is a love triangle between 3 people, the Phantom (P) x Christine (C) x Raul (R). C and R were childhood friends until R had to move away. C grew up in the Opera house with her dad (deceased) as a music writer. C grows up getting “private” singing lessons from P ( he is literally talking to her through a vent ((Among Us omg)) or something idk). Fast forward into the future to present day. C is a ballerina at the opera and one day, the phantom makes the set malfunction so that the lead female opera singer (she’s a jerk. Forgot her name) can’t preform and C has to preform as the lead instead. Coincidentally, the night Christine sings as the lead is the day R comes to see her show and R is like “ooWooga she be fine now ig”. R and C catch up after the show and R goes away for a minute and then P is like “aight C imma kidnap you for a sec with no purpose whatsoever to the plot except for a cool song” and then C returns to her normal life ig. P them sends stuff to the people in charge of the Opera saying “ayo C be pretty fine, let her be the lead again” the people in charge of the opera were like “nah fam, let’s have the person who was supposed to be the lead be the lead”. Upset by this, during the show, P broke the chandelier and it fell into the audience. C is like “I love you uwu” R is like”let’s get engaged” C is like “let’s keep it a secret so the crazy P guy doesn’t find out” and little did they know during that conversation P was hiding and overheard everything and is now sad boi hours. A masquerade happens and P shows up like “ayo I heard you trynna steal my boo” and R is like “nah she my boo” and they duel or whatever. Idk how it transitions to this but the Opera runs another show and they make C the lead to not upset P. However, during a love song (Past the point of no return, it literally slaps), C realizes that the person singing isn’t the original actor, it is P! And then P straight up kidnaps C after the song, takes her to his lair and is like “boo you gotta marry me or I destroy the opera house with everyone inside it” C is like “fine ig” P takes off his mask and reveals he is hiding burn marks and he kisses C and C kisses back. P is like” my mom never even kissed me” and P let’s C go, telling her to go marry R... or you can just watch this video lmao https://youtu.be/4a5nahw3zi8″

On that note, here we go:

{that only goes for the final scene where its all three, it varies otherwise}

{Things I have learned while preparing this story, 1. the actual phantoms name is Erik, like what a nerd, 2. he’s also not actually a ghost??? He’s literally just some creeper who lives in an opera house screwing with people; also yes Eret is the strict lady who yells at everyone and talks to the phantom, deal with it}

{pls send me more musical au asks I really liked doing this, even if it took me a while}

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The ravenous applause of the audience seemed to echo in your ears, even after you had left the stage.

You’re debut as the female lead in Hannibal had been a smashing success, and as the rest of the chorus girls backstage were saying, it was all thanks to the Phantom scaring Hannah off.

Niki practically ran up to you from the rehearsal room, “(y/n) that was incredible!”

You grinned, “Oh I feel like I’m floating Niki! Thank you for volunteering me for the role.”

“Don’t thank me, Thank whoever's giving you those lessons,” She bumped her hip against yours, grinning cheekily, “And if what the girls are saying is true you’ll have to thank him for getting Hannah out of here.”

You chuckled, but before you could say anything else Madame Eret was approaching, knocking the end of their cane of the ground, “Miss Nihachu, you are a dancer are you not?”

Niki nodded.

“Then get back to rehearsal,” he waited until Niki hurried off to turn to you, “He is most pleased with your performance, here.”

You took the note from him, reading over it quietly, “Red scarf..... the attic.... little lotte?”

She simply shrugged, leaving you to turn and head up your dressing room.

As you changed out of your costume from the show you couldn’t help but hum the song that had earned the most applause, “Think of me, think of me of me fondly, when we’ve said goodbye.”

Reaching around you found your dressing gown, pulling it on and tying up the front, “Remember me, once and a while. Please, promise you’ll try...”

Your words faded off as your sat down at your vanity, beginning to brush out your hair.

“Where is your red scarf Miss (y/l/n)? I hope you haven’t lost it. Not after all the trouble I went through to retrieve it for you.”

You turned to see a tall dark hair man standing in the doorway, a grin spreading across your face as he continued, “I was only 14 and soaked to the bone...”

“Because you ran into the sea to fetch my red scarf!” You exclaimed, jumping up and flinging your arms around him excietedly, “Sapnap! How I’ve missed you!”

He chuckled, pulling away, and offering you a single red rose, “(y/n)... Little Lotte let her mind wander...”

“You remember that too?” You asked with a giggle.

Sapnap smiled and kept singing, “Little Lotte thought: am I fonder of dolls,”

“Or of goblins or shoes?” You joined in, “Or of riddles of frocks, or chocolates.”

“Those picnics n the attic...” He reminisced.

You closed your eyes, remembering those long ago days, “Father playing the violin.”

“As we read each other those dark stories of the north.”

“No what I like best, little Lotte said, is when I’m asleep in my bed,” You sang, “And the angel of music sings songs in my head!”

“The angel of music sings songs in my head.” He repeated softly.

You smiled at him, an excited fond feeling forming in your stomach as you sank back into your chair, “Father said, when I am in heaven child I will send the angel of music to you. Well now father is dead, Sapnap. And I have been visited by the angel of music.”

“Well that is very evident,” He chuckled, taking your hands, “Your performance was wonderful. And now, we shall go to supper.”

“Oh- sapnap I can’t, the angle of music is very strict.”

He didn’t seem to understand the urgency in your voice as he laughed again, “Well I shant keep you up late.”

“No- Sapnap, things have changed-”

“You have to change,” He interrupted, “And I have to grab my hat. Two minutes little lotte.”

As he went out the door you cried after him, “Sapnap! Thing have changed Sapnap!”

But he was out of earshot, and the voice that had become so familiar to you was booming, “Insolate boy! This Slave of fashion basking in your glory! Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor, sharing my triumph!”

“Angel I hear you! Speak, I listen! Stay by my side and gude me!” You begged up to the ceiling, “Angel my soul was weak! Forgive me! Enter at last master!”

“Flattering child, you shall know me, see why in the shadow I hide, look at your face in the mirror, I am their inside!”

The voice sounded closer now, and you couldn’t help but look around, “Angel of music! Hide no longer!”

You turned again, finding yourself face to face with what seemed like a mask, floating in your mirror, “Come to me, strange angel!”

“I am your angel! Come to me angel of music!”

A shadowy figure seemed to appear behind the smiling mask, a hand outstretched to you. In a daze you stood, grabbing his hand and allowing him to lead you away down a dark pathway.

“Who’s voice is that?” Sapnap asked, knocking on the now closed door, “(y/n) who’s in there?”

“Come with me angel of music!” Dream, the Phantoms voice echoed again.

“(y/n)!”

“In sleep he came to me, the voice which calls to me and speaks my name!” You moved quietly through the passages, following Dream, “And Do I dream again? for now I find, the phantom of the opera is there, inside my mind!”

“Sing once again with me our strange duet! My power over you grows stronger yet! And though you turn from me to look behind, the phantom of the opera is there! Inside your mind!” He sang, turning back to make sure you were following once more.

The walls of the tunnel seemed to widen, and you could almost make out an empty candle lit space.

You reached out, fingers almost brushing the edge of his cloak, “Those who have seen your face draw back in fear! I am the mask you wear..”

“It’s me they hear...”

As you emerged into a cross roads of the tunnels, you sang in tandem, “Your (my) spirit and your (my) voice in one combined, the phantom of the opera is there, inside your (my) mind!”

He helped you into the boat that waited in one tunnel, before casting off, propelling the boat down the slow moving current, “In all your fantasies, you always knew the man and mystery...”

“Were both in you....” You sang softly as the boat came to dock in a wide chamber.

Slowly you climbed out of the boat after him, looking around the dank space, and at the organ in the corner.

Dream pulled off his cloak, “And in this labyrinth where the night is blind..”

“The Phantom of the opera is there! Inside my mind......”

As the people downstairs argued, you tried to think over what had happened. Was it a dream? It didn’t seem like it, but still, a man appearing in her looking glass? Taking her away and singing words of praise, words of love, words that made nearly no sense now that it was day, and a haze covered your memory.

The one thing that remained clear was the monster she had found beyond the mask.

All too soon it seemed you were being rushed into rehearsals, being told you no longer had a speaking role, as Hannah had returned, and was back to her diva ways.

Rehearsals that would normally drag on seemed to go quicker now, and soon you and the rest of the girls were getting ready for the performance.

“This is ridiculous,” Niki muttered as she adjusted her costume, “You should be playing the duchess, not Hannab.”

“Hannah is the featured soprano. She’s always the lead.” You retorted.

“But how will Sapnap know to look for you in the chorus?” Niki teased.

You elbowed her, laughing lightly, “Shut up. Besides I doubt the phantom would let him see me again.”

The show had gone well, at least until the fifth scene.

All the music stopped abruptly as a voice boomed, “Did I not instruct that box five was to be left empty?”

“He’s here: The Phantom Of The Opera!” Niki cried from offstage.

Your head jerked up to turn and look at the audience, “It’s Dream!”

“Your part is silent, you toad!” Hannah snapped.

From somewhere up in the audience Dream frowned, “A toad Madame? Perhaps it is you who is the toad...”

Hanna opened her mouth to continue on her script, but no sound seemed to come out, save for what was close the a croak.

The men who had bought the opera house, Wilbur and Tommy were coming rushing down from their box, “Ladies and gentlemen we apologize! The performance will continue in ten minutes time, with Miss (y/l/n) as the duchess!”

Tommy nodded as Wilbur finished, “And for now, we will give you the ballet, from act three of tonight's show!”

The ballet didn’t last long, as when you returned to the wings dressed for the new role you had been given, someone let out a horrified scream.

“What the-”

You were cut off as you looked up to see Shlatt, the stagehand in charged of the curtains, hanging from the rigging, a noose fully tightened around his neck.

“Ladies and gentlemen remain calm! It was just an accident- remain calm!” Someone shouted.

Through the darkness you could make out Dream’s menacing figure, the smiling mask watching you threateningly as you clamped your hand over your mouth to stop the scream that had ripped at your throat.

“(y/n)? (y/n) are you alright?” Sapnap had run down onto the stage in all the chaos.

“We- we have to get out of here,” You choked, grabbing his hand, “We aren’t safe here.”

He didn’t seem to understand the reason behind your panic, but even so he offer you his arm, “Lets leave then.”

Twenty minutes later you ended up in an empty park, the panic that filled your chest not yet fading as Sapnap asked, “Why have you brought me here?”

“We can’t go back there!” You exclaimed.

“But we must return.” He gripped your hands, “Darling their bound to be missing you.”

You shook your head, “Sapnap- He’ll kill you! His eyes will find us there!”

“(y/n), don’t say that! It’s okay (y/n), it’s okay!”

You looked up into the darkened sky, “No it’s not- no it’s not- Those eyes that burn!”

“Don’t even think it!” He cried desperately.

You couldn’t tell whether you were trembling from fear, or from the cold, as you sang, “And if he has to kill a thousand men....”

“Forget this waking nightmare!” Sapnap insisted.

“....The phantom of the opera will kill.” You sang distractedly.

He gripped your shoulders, “This phantom is a fable, (y/n), believe me!”

“And kill again....” You shuddered at the idea of Dream doing anything to Sapnap.

Both of you sang, “God who is this man, who hunts to kill? (this mask of death?)

“I can’t escape him!” You cried.

He shook his head, “Whose voice is it you hear...”

“...I never will!”

“With every breath?”

His grip on your shoulders tightened, pulling you closer to him as you both sang, “And in this labyrinth where light is blind, the phantom of the opera is there, inside my (your) mind!”

“There is no Phantom of the Opera!”

“Sapnap- I’ve been there, inside his world of never ending light! To a world where daylight dissolves into darkness, darkness! Sapnap I’ve seen him!” You cried. “Can I ever forget that sight? Can I ever escape that face? So distorted, disformed it was hardly a face! in the darkness, darkness. But his voice filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound in that night there was music in my mind And through music my soul began to soar! And I heard as I'd never heard before!”

“What you had was a dream and nothing more!”

You could hardly look up at him, “yet in his eyes was all the sadness in the world! Those pleading eyes that both threaten and adore!”

“(y/n), (y/n)!” Sapnap exclaimed.

“.....(y/n)......” A different voice seemed to cry into the night.

You gasped, pressing yourself against Sapnap, “What was that?”

He hugged you tightly, before pulling back and singing gently, “No more talk of darkness, forget these wide eyed fears. I’m here, and nothing can harm you, my words will warm and calm you.”

You relaxed into his grip, listening to his quiet voice, “Let me be your freedom, let daylight dry your tears, I’m here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you.”

“Say you love me, every waking moment. Turn my head and talk of summer time,” You looked up at him, biting your lip, “Say you need me now and always, promise me that all you say is true, that's all I ask of you.”

“Let me be your shelter, let me be your light, you are safe, no one will find you. Your fears are far behind you.” He assured you, smiling softly.

“All I want is freedom, a world with no more night. And you to always be beside me, to hold me and to hide me.” You admitted.

Sapnap’s smile grew wider, “Then say you’ll share with me, one love, one life time. Let me lead you from your solitude. Say you need me here, beside you. Anywhere you go let me go too, (y/n), that's all I ask of you.”

“Say you’ll share with me, one love, one life time,” You repeated, “Say the word, and I’ll follow you.”

“Share each day with me, each night, each morning.” You sang together as he leaned down to rest his forehead on yours.

“Say you love me?”

He smiled, whispering, “You know I do.”

“Love me- that's all I ask of you.” You both sang, before he leaned in to gently press a kiss to your lips, “Any where you go, let me go too. Love me- thats all I ask of you.”

Sapnap kissed you again, before pulling away, “We could go anywhere- we could be married! You would marry me, yes?”

“Oh, yes, Sapnap, yes I would. If you’d have me.” You nodded, eagerly.

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You couldn’t help but giggle, before turning back toward the direction of the opera house, “I must go back, they’ll wonder where I am. Wait for me Sapnap!”

“(y/n), I love you!” He exclaimed.

“Wait for me, Sapnap. Order your finest horses and being waiting by the door.” You could go back, and continue working at the opera house, there was nothing left for you to fear while Sapnap was there.

“And soon you’ll be beside me!” He chuckled.

You grinned, “To guard me and too guide me!”

Sapnap offered you his arm again, and you headed off out of the park, toward the opera house.

Slowly, Dream slinked from the shadows where he had watched the proposal, “I gave you my music, made your song take wing. And now your repaid me, denied and betrayed me.”

He groaned running a hand through his hair, “He was bound to love you, when he heard you sing. (y/n)- oh (y/n)-”

He was cut off by the sounds of your voices drifting down the street, Say you’ll share with me, one love, one life time, Say the word, and I’ll follow you. Share each day with me, each night, each morning.”

Dream’s hands flew to his ears, desperate to block out the sounds- he had been so sure that you could’ve loved him, but now Sapnap was stealing you away.

“You will curse the day you did not do, all that the phantom asked of you!” He bellowed.

The following weeks at the opera house were a blur of panic masked by busyness, Wilbur and Tommy refusing to let the disaster of the chandelier falling from keeping the company from working on their next performance.

You kept on working, the ring on the chain Sapnap had given you around your neck helping you to feel safe, even as the chorus girls cited the Phantom for the cause of all the distress.

Now you were back in your dressing room, getting ready for dinner with Sapnap.

“Wander child, so lost, so helpless,” A soft voice seemed to drift down from no where, “Yearning for my guidance.”

You looked up at the ceiling, “angel or father? Friend or phantom? Who is it their staring?”

“Have you forgotten your angel?” The voice murmured, Dream appearing once again in your mirror.

You turned to him, almost in a trance, “angel, oh, speak, what endless longings, echo in this whisper.”

Sapnap, having arrived to the opera house appeared in the door, watched as you moved toward the phantom.

“Too long you’ve wandered the winter...” Dream continued to sing, hand outstretched to you.

“Once again she is his.” Sapnap sang, as you started to cross the room toward the mirror where the phantom stood.

“...far from my far reaching eyes.”

“Wildly my mind beats against you....” You sang, transfixed.

Behind the mask Dream grinned, “You resist. Yet your soul obeys.”

“Once again she returns, to the arms of her angel. Angel or demon? Still he calls her, luring her back from the grave. Angel or dark seducer? Who are you strange angel?” Sapnap sang, again, more to himself than you or Dream.

Dream beckoned you forward again, “I am your angel of music, come to me angel of music!”

“Angel of darkness, cease this torment!” Sapnap exclaimed, moving into the room properly and drawing attention to himself.

Dream unbothered, continued to sing, “I am your angle of music! Come to me angel of music!”

“(y/n), (y/n) listen to me! Whatever you may believe- this thing, this man is not your father!” Sapnap yelled, “(y/n)! Let her go! For gods sake let her go!”

Jarred by his sudden yell, you turned, the trance broken, “Sapnap...”

Dream, unimpressed, began to clap, deadpanning, “Bravo monsieur. Such spirited words.”

“No more tricks monsieur!” Sapnap yelled, stepping forward to put himself between you and Dream.

“Oh, but that's not any fun. Why don’t you come closer, sir? Keep coming this way.”

Sapnap, not liking to be challenged, stepped forward, “You cannot win her love by holding her prisoner!”

“No- Sapnap don’t!” You grabbed his hand, pulling him back.

He nodded resolutely, gripping your hand as you both moved toward the door, “Lets go then, no more time will be spent with this monster.”

“Don’t go!” Dream wailed as you hurried away down the hall, “Now let it be war upon you both!”

Something was going wrong, of course it was, because when was it not?

Your entrance in Don Juan Triumphant had gone according to plan, but the man who had stepped out as Don Juan was not George, as it should have been.

You steeled yourself, trying to come up with a logical reason.

George must have gotten sick, and a stand in had taken his place, yes that must be it.

“Past the point of no return, no backward glances, the games we played till now, are at an end.” The man sang, “Past all thought of ‘if’ or ‘when’, no use resisting, abandon that thought and let the dream descend.”

Your panic seemed to rise, the double meaning in his words filling you with dread.

“What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire locks the door? What sweet seduction lies before is? Past the point of no return, the final thread hold. What unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no return.”

You moved carefully to your next mark, trying to work out who it was in George’s place, “You have brought me, to the moment when words run dry, to the moment when speech disappears into silence, silence.

I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why, in my mind I already imagined, our bodies entwined. Defenseless and silent, now I am here with you, no second thoughts, I’ve decided, decided.”

You just barley stopped from trembling as you realized, it was Dream, “Past the point of no return, no going back now. Our passion play has now, at last, begun. Past all thought of right and wrong. One final question: how long should we two wait, before we’re one?”

“When will the blood being to race? When will the sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames at last consume us?” You finished, taking an only slightly shaky breath.

The phantom grabbed your hand as you both sang, “Past the point of no return, the final threshold. The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn, we’ve past the point of no return!”

Everyone in the audience seemed to hold their breath, they too knew that this was not George. The cloak that had hidden Dreams mask fell, and they gasped upon seeing the plaster smiling face.

He grinned behind the mask, and punctuated, “Say you’ll share with me, one love, one lifetimes lead me, save me from my solitude.”

The words stung even before he pulled out a ring, holding it out to you, “come with me, or this whole place will come down upon us.”

Slowly you looked to the audience, Sapnap was standing in the isle, looking worried.

You couldn’t let him get hurt.

You nodded reluctantly, as he continued, “say you want me by your side anywhere you go let me go too, (y/n) that’s all I ask of-“

Slowly, you reached up, pulling the mask off his face, revealing the terribly scared face to the world.

The gasps turned into horrible screams as a curtain was raised, and Georges body tumbled onto the stage.

Almost immediately Dream flung his cloak around you, disappearing.

Sapnap ran up onto the stage, along with the crew, police officers and other patrons.

“Sapnap! Sapnap you’ve got to come with me!” Eret cried, rushing out onto the stage.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Sapnap!” They yelled again, “I know where they are!”

“But can I trust you?” He demanded.

She nodded, “yes, and remember, keep your hand up at eye level.”

“Why?”

“Punjab lasso.” Was all he offered in explication as he led Sapnap away.

Soon enough Sapnap was creeping through the shadows of the phantoms layer, watching as he tried to place a wedding veil on your head, “Too bad pity comes to late, turn around and face your fate, an entirety of this before your eyes!”

You turn to face him, looking up at the mess of scares that cover his face, “this haunted face holds no horror for me now, it is in your soul that the true distortion lies.”

The phantom turned suddenly, to Sapnaps hiding place, “Wait! I think, my dear, we have a guest! Sir, this is indeed an unparalleled delight! I had rather hoped that you would come And now my wish comes true— you have truly made my night!”

“Free her!” Sapnap yelled, stepping into the light, “do what you want to me but let her go!”

“Your lover makes a passionate plea.” Dream laughed at you.

“Sapnap it’s useless!” You cried.

Sapnap shook his head, “I love her! Does that mean anything To you? I love her! Show some compassion!”

“The world showed no compassion to me!” Dream retorted.

He reached out toward you, “(y/n), (y/n), please let me see her!”

Dream grinned maliciously, “be my guest.”

Sapnap rushed forwards, as Dream contiued to taunt, “Monsuier, i bid you welcome, did you think that I would hurt her? Why should I make her pay, for the sins which are yours?”

As he finished the last words the Punjab lasso came sailing out, and Sapnap barley had time to fling his arm back up as he was dragged back, the only thing keeping him from hanging being the fingers he’d wrangled between the rope and his neck.

“No!” You cried, struggling to your feet.

“Order your fine horses now!” Dream yelled, “Nothing now can save you, except maybe... (y/n).”

You stood, shaking as he turned to you, “Start a new life with me- buy his freedom with your love! Refuse me now and send your lover to his death! This is the choice, this is the point of no return!”

“(y/n), forgive me, please forgive me, I did it all for you, and all for nothing.” Sapnap sang, looking at you desperately.

At the same time you turned toward Dream, “Farewell my fallen idol, and my false friend, one by one my delusions shattered.”

“Too late for turning back, too late for prayers and useless pity!” Dream sang.

“{all hope of cries for help, no point in fighting!} (say you love and my life is over, either way you choose, he has to win!) {for ether way you choose, you cannot win! So do you end your days with me or do you send him to his grave?}”

“Why make her lie to you, to save me?” Sapnap yelled.

You looked between them desperately, “Angel of music..... {past the point of no return!} (For pity’s sake (y/n) say no! Don’t throw your life away for my sake!) Who deserves this? When will you see reason? {The Final threshold! His life is now the prize you must earn! You’ve passed the point of no return....}”

You looked at Dream, no longer trying to hide the fear that coursed through your veins, “Angel of music, you have deceived me, I gave myself blindly to you.”

“You try my patience! Make your choice!” Dream yelled.

Looking back at sapnap for a moment you stepped forward, whatever it would take, you would keep him safe, “Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known? God give me courage to show you, you are not alone.”

Reaching out, you took the mask from his hand, tossing it to the side as he moved closer to you as well.

Before you could hardly blink he was kissing you, and with little more than a second thought you kissed back.

Sapnap watched, in partials horror, until the phantom drew back, shaking as he whispered, “No one has ever kissed me- not even my own mother.”

You nodded, and then suddenly Dream began to move across the room, grabbing a knife from somewhere as he stalked up to Sapnap.

He paused for a beat, and you could feel the terror in the room- until he slashed at the rope, and Sapnap fell the ground.

You rushed over to him, kneeling beside him, “Sapnap! oh Sapnap!”

“Take her,” dream wailed, “Take her and forget me, forget all of this! Leave me alone- forget all you’ve seen....”

Sapnap struggled to his feet, holding you close to him as he backed towards the channel.

“Take the boat, leave me here, go now, please!”

The sounds of the mob looking for Georges murderer seemed to grow louder as they grew closer.

“Hurry! Now before its too late!” Dream yelled.

Sapnap hurriedly started to help you into the boat, but you pulled away, moving back to the Phantom, long enough to hand him the ring.

Then you were off, turning to Sapnap as the current carried the boat away, “I’m sorry Sapnap- I couldn’t let him hurt you- I couldn’t!”

“Shhh. It’s alright (y/n), it’s alright. He can’t hurt you anymore.” He murmured, pulling you into his arms.

“Say you’ll share with me, one love one lifetime.” You sang shakily.

Sapnap nodded, “Say the word and I’ll follow you.”

“Share each day with me, each night, each morning...” The sounds of your voices traveled back up the tunnel for Dream to hear.

He sighed, looking resolutly into the distance, “You alone can make my song take flight- It’s over now, the music of the night!”

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagines #dreamwastaken x reader #sapnap x reader #phantom of the opera #teddy06 writes

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spencessmile · 4 years

Text

Poker Night & Confessions

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Requested? Yes.

Summary - Hii. Could you write a fic where it's pasta and poker night at Rossi's, and Y/N always brings a dessert with her? The team ALL know Spencer has a crush on Y/N, as he doesn't hide it particularly well, but Y/N can hide her crush easily, so only the girls know. After 5 games, Y/N beats them all at Poker, and as they have cigarettes and a few drinks, as they're all staying over, a 5 glasses of wine down, Spencer decides NOW is the perfect moment to tell 7 bottles of beer down Y/N how he feels

Warnings - None

Word Count - 2,428 words

And all imagines/fanfics/blurbs are written solely by me so please don't steal my work and post it without my consent.

Feedback and comments are always welcome. Happy reading!

A/N - I’m so sorry anon, that this took me soooo long to write.

Requests are open!

"I thought I was going to have to drag your ass here," Garcia said, opening the door to Rossi's and you shook your head.

"I know, I'm sorry." You said walking with her to the kitchen.

"You're late," Rossi said as you handed him the dessert containers.

"What's for dessert?" JJ asked, trying to open the boxes but Rossi swats her hand away.

"Oreo Truffles and I'm sorry," You said as Emily handed you a glass of wine. My mother showed up unannounced," You take a sip of the wine.

"Yikes, how'd that go?" Morgan asks.

"Let's just say that tonight I might take up Rossi on the offer of trying that new Scotch he's been wanting to crack open for months," Emily chuckled.

"Lovely," Rossi said. "I've been waiting to open that one up!"

Your eyes scanned the kitchen but didn't find the one person you actually wanted to really see.

Spencer.

"The person your eyes are searching for hasn't arrived yet," JJ nudged your shoulder and you rolled your eyes.

"I was looking for Hotch,"

"Sure you were," Garcia smirks at you.

"He's in the backyard setting up the table," Morgan pointed towards the slide opening doors, and you nod. You mingle around for a couple of minutes until the doorbell goes off.

"I got it," You hear Morgan but you stop him.

"No, I'll get it," You said running for the door. Morgan just shrugged and let you go.

You opened the door to see Spencer standing there, looking cute as ever.

You're here.

"Hi," Spencer said hugging you.

"Hey, you made it," You said as you closed your eyes, enjoying the hug.

Don't let go.

You and Spencer walk into the kitchen and stand side by side.

"Genius brain," Garcia walked over to him, handing Spencer a wine glass. "Drink up! You're getting drunk tonight. I'm making sure."

Emily and JJ stood in the corner and just adored you and Spencer. They knew how much you like Spencer, scratch that, they know how much you love Spencer but it's been three years and you haven't told Spencer how you really feel. You kept your feelings towards Spencer to yourself for months until JJ, Emily and Garcia eventually caught on.

Now they gush over the two of you all the time. Even though the four of you know, you somehow managed to keep it a secret from Rossi, Hotch, and Morgan.

"Reid," Rossi called out for him. "Help with these bowls," Spencer follows Rossi outside and you walk towards the girls.

"Oh come on," You look over at Garcia. "Just ask him out already," You look down, smiling."Anyone could look at you and say that you like Reid. What are you waiting for?”

You look over at Emily and past her shoulder, you could see Morgan throwing popcorn at Reid as he was helping Rossi. You try your hardest to keep your smile subtle but as you watched Morgan continuing to annoy Spencer, the smile on your face just grew wider and wider.

“Oh there it is!” JJ speaks as your eyes snapped away from Spencer and down at your wine glass. “The I’m-so-in-love- smile.”

“I don’t know what I’m waiting for. I guess I’m just afraid of telling him because once I say it, I can’t take it back,” Emily rubbed your arm.

She looked at Reid and smiled. “I think you’ll be fine.”

“What if he doesn’t feel the same way?"

“I wouldn’t worry about him not feeling the same way. I think he’s as much head over heels for you as you are for him. You both know it.”

“If he does like me then he sure does one hell of a job at hiding it. He avoids me all the time. He’s always acting weird around me.”

Garcia set her glass down and grabbed your shoulders. “Angel! That’s because he likes you!!!” She pointed at you.

“Then why is he avoiding me?”

“Because you make his knees go weak. You make his heart race and he avoids you because he doesn’t know how to act around you. That’s why he’s always avoiding you. When you're not paying attention he’s always looking at you. He teases you, a lot. He says yes to everything you ask him to do, he never says no because he doesn’t want to disappoint you,” Garcia says all in one breathe.

“Last week Reid saw you eating peanut butter cookies with chocolate chips in the kitchen and he grabbed one himself and ate it. Reid doesn’t like peanut butter but he gave it a try because they are your favorite cookies. He always makes sure your cup never runs out of coffee. That the kitchen cabinet full of snacks always have your favorite morning granola bars stacked so that you never run out,” JJ adds.

“Reid gets flustered when he speaks to you. I’ve known Reid for years but I’ve never seen his back to you, he’s always facing you. On the days that you sometimes show up late, he always makes sure your case file is up to date and doesn’t let Garcia start until you arrive because he wants to make sure you're there for the brief,” Emily adds on to JJ and Garcia.

You stared at them in complete shock, you had no idea Spencer did all these things for you. Maybe because you were always too busy thinking of why he was avoiding you.

He did all the little things that you never paid any attention to.

“Reid doesn’t even try to hide it,” JJ told you.

“Am I that obvious too?” You ask, curious.

“You're only obvious to us. I don’t think Hotch, Rossi, or Morgan have any idea. They just think he likes you,” Emily replies.

“Ladies, the table is all set. Let’s go!” You hear Morgan waving you all over. You finish your glass and set it down, looking at the girls.

“Let’s see where the night takes us,” You wink walking outside as they all look at you in amusement. Know that Garcia mentioned that you made Spencer nervous. You decided to test the theory out, so you went and stood right next to him.

“Shots for everyone!” Morgan cheers, handing you one. Just as everyone was about to cheers you noticed that Spencer wasn’t holding a glass.

“Wait,” You said facing Spencer. “You don’t have a shot.”

“I-I’m okay. I don’t really want one.”

“Oh come on,” You said, handing him yours as you took another one from the table.

“Y/n, I’m real-”

“For me?” You said, slightly grazing his hand. He looked at you before nodding.

“Can we get drunk now?” Emily said as you laughed.

“Yes, now we can get drunk!” You say as everyone cheered.

"Here are too many more poker nights filled with love, laughter, and happiness!" Hotch says as everyone clinked their glasses.

“Nah huh,” Morgan said, throwing his cards on the table. “There is no way that you’ve won again.”

You smirk setting down your cards, as everyone groans.

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game, Morgan,” You replied.

You look over at Spencer who grabbed your cards and shuffled through them. “I always win,” He muttered as you chuckled to yourself.

“Dr. Reid,” Spencer looked up at you, scrunching his nose. “It looks like you’ve got competition.”

“Y/n, have you played poker before?” Hotch asked.

“My poker playing skills, all the credit goes to my dad.”

“That’s why!” Garcia shouts, grabbing your arm. “Otherwise, no one would ever beats genius brain.”

“Well,” Rossi said standing up. “I don’t wish to lose anymore tonight so who is going to help me with dinner?”

“I will!” Garcia goes to pull out her chair and almost stumbles, almost taking down the table with her.

“Baby girl, be careful,” Morgan grabbed onto her shoulders.

“I am not drunk!” She exclaimed. "I'm so not drunk. I feel perfectly fine. Top-notch, chocolate thunder." She said, gripping her chair to help her stand.

“No Garcia,” Emily said. “You're drunk and so am I,” She says, smiling like an absolute idiot.

“How about we get you two some water?” JJ said, helping Emily inside.

After more wine and Tequila were taken down with some delicious Pasta, Hotch and JJ were helping Rossi with the dishes as Morgan, Emily and Garcia were fooling around.

You stepped outside for some air until a couple of minutes passed you heard the doors slide open and shut.

You knew it was Spencer, and you felt him lingering over you.

“I won’t bite Spence,” You spoke, continuing to admire the stars that were shining a little extra bright tonight.

“How did you know it was me?” Spencer stood beside you.

“I just did,” You smiled.

The tension between you Spencer was unbelievable. You moved closer but Spencer didn’t move away in fact he leaned in and put his head on your shoulder. You didn’t really know what to say so you leaned your head on top of his.

You and Spencer remained like that for a while until he spoke up.

“What are you scared of?”

There it was, the one question that absolutely terrified you.

Losing you.

“A lot of things.”

“Me too,” Spencer replies. You both remained quiet for a while before Spencer started laughing. You looked at him as he continued to giggle.

“What? Why are you laughing?”

Spencer couldn’t even get a word out because he was laughing so much. You hold onto his arm to make sure he doesn’t stumble. Spencer grabs onto your shoulder and moves closer to you.

“Spencer, are you drunk?” You asked.

Spencer scrunches his nose as you noticed his pupils were dilated. His hair was all over the place, the button on his shirt was undone and his hands were warm and sweaty.

“I uh, uhh, -” Spencer trailed off moving even closer to you. “I think I am,” You laughed. Seeing Spencer like this was new for you. In all the years that you’ve worked with Spencer, you’ve never seen him drunk so this was quite amusing for you. “I have a confession I need to make before it’s too late.”

“Go for it,” You whisper, playing with his hair.

“Is it too late now? Did I miss my chance?”

“No no,” You shook your head.

Spencer moved his head enough to make sure he could see you, he smiled at you as you didn’t break eye contact.

“I ju-just I rea-really like you,” He breathed out.

He said it.

You stared at him, his eyes trying to read your face. Your heart was beating so fast you wondered if Spencer was close enough to feel it.

Standing there for a second, you almost felt terrified to say the words back. At that moment Spencer’s words felt so real that they almost stung you. You couldn’t tell whether you felt relieved that he felt the same way or if you felt heavy.

In all honesty, you wanted to make a run for it. You couldn’t because you knew if you walked away now you’ll never get this chance again and you’ll lose Spencer. No matter how badly you wanted to say the words, you are terrified of what’s to come next.

You had no idea.

But

It was now or never.

This was it, the feelings that you’ve been holding in for so long it was finally time to let them free; it was time to say them.

Spencer started to pull away when he realized you’d been quiet for so long. You pulled him in by his hands.

“Can I make a confession too?” You whisper as Spencer nodded, his eyes soft and assuring.

Say it.

Just say it.

“I like you too,” The words came out so boldly. “I really really like you.”

Spencer’s head grew closer and closer, he stopped when his nose touched yours. You felt his breath across your lips, he waited for you to tell him it was okay. You nod, inching closer as Spencer closed the gap between you and his soft lips. It was a simple and gentle kiss that made sparks bounce through your veins. Spencer wrapped his hands around your back and pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

When you pulled away, both of you let out shaky breaths, and you immediately realized that you needed to kiss him again.

Those soft lips.

You crashed your lips to Spencer once again, kissing him with a little more passion and force this time. His hands cupped your cheeks as you tightly gripped at his cardigan. Eventually, you pulled away to catch your breath.

“I’ve waited so long to do that,” Spencer said, rubbing your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Me too,” You reply looking up at Spencer and at that very moment you had no idea what was funny but the both of you burst out laughing.

You know that Spencer wasn’t much of a hugger but you really wanted to hug him.

“Hey,” Spencer looked up at you. “Can I hug you?” Without hesitation Spencer pulled you in, digging his head into your shoulder and you wrapped your arms around his neck, taking his sweet vanilla scent.

As you and Spencer hugged, both of you could hear the rest of the team cheering and clapping.

At that moment, you knew you were in the right place.

You were home.

There is nothing more terrifying or fulfilling than complete love.

It’s worth the risk.

Reach for it.

Jaeda DeWalt

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x fluff #Criminal minds #criminal minds masterlist #bau x reader

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maybebanks · 4 years

Text

Secrets Bring Us Together

JJ maybank x reader

“Thanks for letting me stay,” you whisper to John B.

You had came to his house in the middle of the night. Begging to stay after a fight with your father on your ‘dirty’ company as friends. He wasn’t a fan of the pogues, but they were a light in your life.

“No problem, you want to tell me what happened?” John B asks, eating a slice of bread.

“At home...” you say, trailing off, holding in some tears.

“Your dad?” He asked solemnly, you only answered with a nod. He didn’t have a dad, but honestly there was a part of you that wanted to be in his position.

“You can stay here for 2 days,” he says, tapping your shoulder gently as he passed you.

Your throat goes dry, “Uh-wait, actually...I was hoping to stay a little longer?” you mumble, settling into the couch.

He looks confused, “why?”

“I can..pay rent? Or-please I’ll do anything, I just can’t go home right now,” you plead.

He furrows his eyebrows.

You shuffle through your bag and pull out your wallet, then hand him 2 20s and a 50 dollar bill.

“Here,” you say eagerly, his eyes widen.

“Alright it’s cool, you can stay,” he laughs, “but I’m not taking your money, that’s not how we pogues do it,”

—

You woke up early to make breakfast. John B was still asleep so you started to get undressed.

Suddenly, the screen door swung open.

“Y/n?” I female voice asked, full of surprise.

You grabbed one of John B’s stray button ups and struggled to button it quickly.

“Where did you get all that cash?!” She asks, pointing to the dollar bills spilling out of your bag.

You shake your head, “nothing just forget it.” You has taken a lot of money because you didn’t know how long you would be away from home.

“Did you rob a kook or some-“ Kie starts but you cut her off.

“Please...just don’t tell anyone. Okay? I promise it’s nothing to worry about,” you reason.

She eyes you suspiciously, “I promise,” she mutters.

“Thanks! Your the best,” you say, starting to cook some scrambled eggs.

“What are you doing here so early?” You ask her.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she says, sitting down. Picking up a bag of your stuff from under the table.

“You’re not staying here...are you?” She asked.

“No,” you lie quickly, “I just brought over some clothes to change into after the boat today. If they get muddy or something,”

“Okay,” Kie responds.

John B walks out of his room. “Morning guys,”

“John B? Is Y/n sleeping here?” She ask, looking at you as if to express how bad of a liar you are, you roll your eyes.

John B looks at you, “Pft, no! She has her own place,”

“No secrets amongst pogues!” Kie shouts.

Before you can respond JJ and Pope walk in.

“Top of the mornin’ to ya!” JJ says cheerfully, you can’t help but smile at him.

Pope looks confused, “no secrets...what were you guys just talking about?” He questions.

“Y/n is being weird and so is John B,” Kie explains.

“Wait-you guys aren’t like, macking, are you?” JJ says holding a blunt.

“Seriously guys? It’s not a big deal!” You whine.

“Oh my god, you guys are totally-“ Pope starts.

“We are not macking,” John B states.

JJ mimics a blow job with his blunt and Pope laughs.

You quickly grab the nearest item and throw it at JJ.

“Really?” Kie says, not giving up, then explain this!” She says, pointing to your bag of clothes that could last a week.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say, “can we just go surfing? I need some sun,” you say, but your nerves were tensing up.

Pope jumps up and heads towards your bag.

“Hey! What are you doing?” You exclaim as he empties a few things from your bag.

“Searching for evidence...” Pope says.

“Ugh can you not be a nerd for like a second please?” You say annoyed.

JJ gets up and joins pope.

“Guys what the fuck! Seriously, stop! Stop!” You try to reason with the curious boys.

“Guys! I think I found it! The evidence we’ve been searching for!” JJ yells excitedly and everyone raises there eyebrows in anticipation.

Your hands shake nervously.

Suddenly, JJ pulls out a white lace piece from your bag. Your bra.

Pope says, “whoa!” Sarcastically.

And Kie rolls her eyes.

“JJ put that down,” you demand.

“Nah, I think I’m going to try it on, see if it looks as sexy on me as it does on you?” He says raising one eyebrow.

“No, don’t! You’ll stretch it out,” you say, no doubt in your mind that he will actually put on your bra.

He dangles it above your head and you swipe for it, “JJ!” You shout jumping for it. He was taller than you, and your chest brushed up against his every time you jumped up to reach his arms holding it up high.

Finally he lets you have it, laughing at your frustration. You return it to its rightful place, in your bag.

Pope mutters, “aww man!” When the fun ends.

“Sorry Pope, I know it was your first time seeing a bra in all, but I wanna go surf,” you say patting his head and signaling everyone to head out.

Jj and John B laugh at your comment. But Kie, still worried, finally gets up and joins y’all.

—

After a long day of laughing and surfing you all make it back to John B’s place for a movie.

After you all have settled down on the porch, JJ starts up a conversation.

“Guys, I think we should all just dip,” JJ says disappointedly.

“What?” You ask, you knew he was in trouble with the police, and maybe his dad, but it was nothing he hadn’t handled before.

“JJ what about the gol-“Kie starts.

“We lost the G-game, Kie! I don’t even know if things are going to work, I owe 25K as my restitution,” JJ reveals.

Everyone is in shock.

“25 K? Holy shit man,” Pope says.

“We haven’t lost the gold game, we just have to-“ you start, trying to get John B to support you, but Kie shuts you down.

“I know it’s easy for you to be all hopeful with the cushion you have, but not everyone can afford to waste their time,” Kie says sourly, she had a feeling you could help JJ but you were lying about something.

“Cushioning? What the hell are you talking about?!” You say back angerly, you had faith in the gold hunt, what was wrong with that?

“Don’t play dumb!” She demands, giving you a look like she wants to slap your face.

“Whoa, Kie. Calm down, she’s just trying to-“ Jj starts but she continues.

“Your keeping so many secrets! I can tell because I’m not an idiot like all the boys you have fooled. Admit it! You’ve been staying with John B!” Kie starts.

“What are you jealous? God Kie, I’m not sleeping with John B!” You shout.

“Why don’t you just go back to your own fucking house!” She says, in response your face blushes red and you look down at your feet, and away from Kie’s burning words.

“You know, I’ve never actually been to, or seen your house? Is there a reason for that...or are you just obsessed with keeping everything a secret,” Kie begins, standing up.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

“I wonder why?” She tries again.

“Shut up! Why are you trying to start something?!” You ask.

“Because your a liar! And I’m not friends with liars.”

“Kie just leave her alone,” John B says, but Kie didn’t listen.

“How did you get all that cash? You know how would be a good time to mention it, since JJ has 25K to pay,” Kie says, cornering you.

“Cash? What is she talking about,” JJ asks you.

You sigh, defeated, “Fine! If you want to hear me say it, then I’ll say it. I live a house in figure eight, but that doesn’t mean-“

“Your a kook?” a few of them say in unison. Even Kie was shocked.

“No! Guys, come on you know me! I surf, I don’t care about golf or clothes, money matters to me, I fish, the Cut is my home-“

“I can’t believe you were a kook this whole time,” Pope says sadly.

“Guys-“

“Liar...” Kiara mutters.

“You can’t-“ you stifle, your breathing was becoming difficult, was this the moment when your friends turned on you.

“Probably paid for surf lessons,”

That stung your heart, you loved surfing because the waves were an escape, the talent you had at it was all you.

You looked at everyone, they were mad, sad, even disgusted.

“You can’t be serious... wh-what you hate me now? Because I’m a kook?!” You ask your voice shaking, you lied, and they hated you now.

John B gets up and walks inside.

A few tears left your eyes, “please,” you say.

“You lies to us! Pogue life? You weren’t even a pogue! What are we to you then? A way to rebel against your parents? I’m done y/n,” Kie says.

“No, no you guys are my friends,” you say, letting a few more years fall.

“Pope?” You ask, he was looking at the ground.

“All those times we all had jobs to do, where we worked for the food on our table! Where were you?!” Pope asks, hurt.

All your friends hate you, “JJ? You ask slowly.

“She was helping us,” he pauses.

“W-What?” You ask.

“When we had our jobs...she was helping us,” JJ doesn’t make eye contact with you.

John B returns, “here,” he says, throwing you your bag of stuff.

“No,” you whimper, “guys it’s still me, Y/n!” You try and reason.

“You’re not just a kook, you’re a liar,” Kie says standing up and approaching the door.

JJ puts his hand on Kiaras shoulder and stopped her from leaving.

“Why do you think she lied, huh?” JJ breaks the silence.

Everyone looks at him, “Because we would react like this! Look at us, y/n has done nothing but been a good friend to all of us. Pope, she always helped deliver groceries. John B, she never once doubted your dad or the g-game. And Kie, she spent days teaching you how to surf, and protesting ocean plastic! And to me, she’s comforted me about my dad even when I pushed her away. God, I love her. I don’t care if she’s a kook, guys it’s just a name. She’s been a better friend than a kook. And you all love her too,” JJ says, angry at his friends for being so petty.

Kie looks at you crying quietly, “I’m an idiot,” she breathed, then she stands up and hugs you. You hug her back. John B joins next, muttering that he’s sorry, Pope joins. And after a few seconds you all pull out.

“Guys, I was never doing this to spite my parents or any of the kooks. You guys are literally the best friends I’ve ever had. I can’t loose you all,” you explain.

“Sorry we were so dumb,” Pope says, “well except jj,” he says, “that’s a sentence I never thought I’d say,”

You turn to JJ, he looks at you with a sweet smile, he basically saved you, with love you run up to him and jump into his arms, he supports your back, hugging you tight.

“I love you, JJ,” you whisper in his ear. He pulls out to see your face, within seconds, he presses his lips against yours, you moving yours along with him, accepting his kiss.

#obx jj maybank x you #jj maybank #outer banks #johnbroutledge #outerbanks fluff #pope outer banks #obx netflix #jj imagine jjxreader obx #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #fanfic #kooks vs pogues #jj outer banks #netflix

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tagsecretsanta · 3 years

Text

From @little-old-rachel

to @misssquidtracy

Secret Santa does not own this work, full credit to the author above!

Summary: Scott will always insist that actually, Gordon’s first snow was the year he was born, to which Gordon says, “yeah, like I remember that, Scooter,” but if you ask Gordon, his first snow was when he was five and three quarters.

Part One: First Snow

Over the last few years, Kansas has seen a spate of mild winters and wet summers - not even a snowflake to be seen. But this year is The One, Gordon can feel it. After years of envying the way Scott and Virg wax lyrical about snowball fights and school closures, this is Gordon’s year.

This particular morning had dawned like any other; a fine mist gradually curling a retreat from muddy fields, breath like dragon’s smoke before him as he and the other kids wait for the school bus, and a chill in the air that almost sounds like Mom (“are you sure shorts in December are a good idea, kiddo?"). Once sandwiched between a barely-conscious Virgil and foggy window, Gordon entertains himself drawing in the condensation.

“Look V, it’s a dolphin!” He pokes his sleepy brother in the side until Virgil raises his head, eyes bleary, and removes an earbud.

“So it is, Gordo,” Virgil says, though Gordon’s ‘dolphin’ looks more plane-like than aquatic.

“Do me a squid,” Gordon says, yanking at his big brother’s sleeve and employing the big round eyes he’s fast learning will get him what he wants. Virgil obliges - of course he does, because who could resist Gordon - and the rest of the journey is spent with Virgil poking out increasingly obscure sea creatures in the condensation.

Outside the bus, the sun rises, the fog clears, but thick white clouds remain. Virgil happens to glance up as he walks his brother to the kindergarten classroom, and says, “hm, I wonder if it’ll snow today,” and Gordon stops dead.

“Today?! Is it gonna snow? Today?”

Virgil suppresses a yawn - how is he still tired? - and shrugs. “Johnny thought it might. S’the right clouds for it.”

An electric buzz shoots through Gordon’s limbs and he can feel himself practically vibrating with excitement. Actual snow! Today! He can’t wait, even as Virgil tugs him across the ice-slicked playground towards school.

It’s going to snow!

****

Or so he thought.

Gordon’s been watching the window all day, to the extent that Mrs Cartwright has had to call his name three times to drag his gaze from it. He can’t help it that her classes are boring-schmoring and he already knows how to sound words out.

He’s only been in kindergarten for a year or so, but he’s less than impressed. John always gushed about school, sure, but John’s a nerd (he’s allowed to say that, because Johnny’s his brother), so Gordon took that with a healthy pinch of salt. Thanks to Virgil, Gordon’s heard enough about the arts department to last a lifetime, and again that’s not really his jam.. But Scott, too, was enthusiastic about his classes and Scott was cool.

Well, you know what’s not cool, Scotty?

Being stuck next to Barry Duckworth, who still mixes up his ‘b’s and ‘d’s.

“Gordon, please don’t make me ask you again.”

Gordon smiles serenely at Mrs Cartwright until she’s turned back to the smartboard, then tips his gaze back to the window. He can’t help that his brain goes a million miles a minute, until it snags on something, like the threads of Dad’s old Christmas sweater. And then that’s suddenly all he can think about for hours at a time; it’s why he’s so good in his swimming classes, because he can fixate on cutting through the water as fast as possible like nothing else, relishing in one of the few times he can outpace his brain.

Anyway. Thanks to Virgil’s offhand comment, today his brain is absolutely fixed on snow and there’s nothing he can do except watch as the sky gets greyer.

Maybe Johnny was wrong and they weren’t the right clouds, after all…

****

Except, Johnny’s never wrong - something he’ll only truly come to appreciate later in life - because when the school bell finally rings for hometime, he and Darry Buckworth spill out into a playground that’s ever so slightly dusted white.

Gordon grabs Barry’s arm excitedly, has the bizarre desire to lick the icing sugar-like substance. He resists, only because his mom’s standing at the gate and the desire to fling his arms around her outweighs the urge to get a good taste of the playground.

Besides, he tells himself, he can play in the snow later.

But there’s no time - there’s never enough time. Between rushing to his swimming lesson, dropping Virgil at his piano teacher’s place, taking Scott to Scouts, collecting John from Science Club, and the constant backdrop of little Allie’s wailing, the Tracy family is zombie-like over their dinner that evening.

It’s all Gordon can do to shovel chicken pie in his mouth as his eyes droop lower and lower, until they finally close all the way. He would have face planted straight into the remaining saucy goodness on his plate if it weren’t for Scott’s lightning quick reactions.

Before he can find the words to ask about the snow, he has Gordon tucked up in bed. His eyelids are too heavy to even glance out of the window, and so Gordon surrenders to sleep with weary acceptance.

****

The next morning, Gordon wakes to a whole new world he’s only seen in picture books.

He can’t believe how bright it is, it almost hurts to look at the dazzling, unfamiliar shapes across the fields. The sharp edges of every building have been softened beneath a wedge of snow, the field boundaries vanished under an endless white expanse, trees that were bare only yesterday now swaying beneath the weight of their new finery. Delicate crystals of ice dangle from the windowsill. Tiny snowflakes trim the edges of his window like lace.

“John. John, you were right!”

John grunts something back at him, rolling over and Gordon rolls his eyes.

One glance back outside has him letting out a whoop loud enough to wake even a hibernating bear. Gordon flings his door open, banging into his oldest brothers’ room and shaking Scott’s shoulder till he stirs with a groan.

“Snow, Scott, it’s snowed.”

A growl from across the room has him retreating behind his oldest brother’s bed, because a barely-awake Virgil is a Dangerous Thing.

“Gords, no,” Scott hisses. “You woke him.”

“Worth it!”

“Would someone like to tell me why I’m awake at 5:00am?” Virgil is the biggest softie in the world, with a heart of twenty-four carat gold, but in that moment his voice is deadly.

Scott and Gordon exchange Looks for a split second, and then Gordon makes his escape, darting from the danger zone and leaping into his parents’ room instead. “Mom, mom, moooooom!”

Dad cracks an eye open, murmurs something to Mom that sounds suspiciously like “save me from your son,” and shoves his head under the pillow.

“Like he didn’t get this from you, Captain Snowball Fight,” Mom retorts, but she’s got the fondest smile on her face as she looks down at her husband.

Dad peeks his head from under the pillow. “You love me anyway,” he says, sleep lines crinkling an unfiltered, joyful smile.

“More than life, Jeff.”

And then she’s ducking her head to kiss him - and - gross -

Gordon makes a loud retching sound, dramatically flinging himself across the sheets and thereby crushing any romantic atmosphere.

Mom rolls her eyes, but it’s just as fond. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“It SNOWED, Mom it actually snowed! Johnny was right and it’s all white outside! I can’t wait to play in it, please can I go? Please? Do you think we’ll get the day off school? Please say yes, pretty please? I can’t-”

Dad swoops down, cutting him off with a surprise tickle attack and Gordon shrieks, writhing down the bed and flopping to the floor with a thud.

He loves these moments with his parents more than anything else in the world - maybe even more than blue-ringed octopi, which is A Lot because have you seen them?! Living in a family of five brothers is absolute carnage and Gordon adores every second of it. But sometimes, it’s like he gets a little bit forgotten in the chaos, even more so since Alan was born.

Speaking of which, Alan, of course, chooses that moment to wake up, big blue eyes blinking slowly at them. Until he puckers his face up and begins howling.

“I’ve got him!” Dad says, rubbing a hand over his face as he makes his way to Alan’s cot. “What’s up, little man? What’s with all the noise? You're gonna be like your big brother?”

Alan brandishes his arms and Dad scoops him up, tucking up him against his chest and humming quietly. “Luce, love, I’ve got him,” he says softly, “I’m gonna need to go in to work this morning, so why not take this little sea monkey to play outside whilst you can?” He nods his head at Gordon, who perks up immediately.

“Actually, Dad, I don’t think I would be a sea monkey, they’re not much fun!”

“Oh, my mistake, what would you be then, son?”

“A seal, I think. They love to play allllll day long.”

“Sounds about right,” Mom says, ruffling his unruly blonde curls. “Alright then, little seal pup. Wrap up warm, let’s go play!”

****

John is awake by the time Gordon returns. As Gordon flings his pyjamas off, yanking on thick socks and sweats, John is there to steady him when he tries to shove both legs into the same hole of his trousers.

“You’re going to want those gloves,” John says, pointing at the heap of discarded clothes on the floor.

“Nah, I want to be able to feel the snow! Otherwise I won’t make the best snowballs.”

John rolls his eyes, but tucks Gordon’s gloves into his own pocket. “More fool you when you lose your fingers to frostbite.”

“What’s that?”

“John’s right, kiddo.” Mom is standing in the doorway, scarf wound about her neck and fluffy socks up to her knees. “Gloves on, or you’ll end up like Captain Hook!”

“He lost his hand, silly, not his fingers! Now come on!”

Gordon seizes his Mom’s hand and John’s sleeve, dragging them excitedly down the stairs to the door, bouncing uncontrollably as Mom unlocks it.

Finally.

Finally!

Gordon darts outside, stumbling in the thick layer of snow that sinks him knee deep and lets out a cry of delight as he sinks his face into it, and-

“Noooooooooo!” he yelps - yelps, not squeals, thank you very much John - and leaps back towards the door. “It’s so cold!”

“Of course it’s cold, doofus,” John says. His tone of voice would be cruel if it were anyone else, but it’s John so of course it’s not. “It’s made of ice. Ice is cold.”

“But… but…”

A cold explosion strikes him in the chest, and Gordon turns an expression of utter betrayal to see his Mom grinning maniacally. “A little cold never hurt nobody!” she yells, ducking for another scoop of snow.

Gordon lets out an indignant whoop, grabs a handful of snow and flings it back at her. It falls apart before it reaches her, snow scattering everywhere. The ice sticks to his hands, and he shivers at the dampness of it.

Before he even has to ask, John has whipped out the gloves and is holding them out to him. He gratefully accepts, just as Scott rushes out of the house to join them.

“Snowball fight!” he yells, eyes shining with glee.

Virgil follows, still yawning a little, but he perks up at Scott’s words. “You’re on,” he says with a grin.

Mom holds up a hand, “Scott and John against me, Virgil and Gordon.”

Scott hesitates. “But there’s three of you, and only two of us!”

“War is war,” Mom says, “there’s no shame in admitting defeat-”

“Oh you are on,” says Scott at once, as they all knew he would. “Come on, Johnny. We have some snowballs to make.”

Virgil bounds over to Gordon and Mom, and together they begin compiling their own mound of weapons. Mom shows Gordon how to pack it into a ball so that it doesn’t splinter apart, whilst Virgil quietly beavers away, producing snowballs at double the speed. Gordon’s cold but he’s also pressed between his mom and brother, and the warmth in his heart is absolutely worth the occasional shiver.

Finally, they’re ready.

With a blood-curdling battle cry, Gordon launches the first snowball. It falls short - by a good few feet - splattering at Scott's feet.

Scott starts to laugh, head back, just in time for Gordon's second snowball to strike him directly in the neck.

Gordon lets out a cackle that has Scott narrowing his eyes and pelting snowballs in their direction. Mom hurls them back as good as she gets, snowflakes catching in her dark hair, whilst Virgil works to replenish their fast dwindling stock. The enemy - his brothers, that is - put up a valiant effort, but burn through snowballs faster than John can produce them. Soon they are backed up against the wall of the old barn, and Gordon is breathless and exhilarated and joyful.

"Surrender or die!" he bellows, holding a snowball in each hand.

"Gordon," Mom says sharply, and Gordon sighs.

"Fine. Surrender or suffer!"

Even as they raise their hands in unison, John's grin stretches his cheeks wide and Scott's eyes gleam with amusement.

Gordon is fit to burst with all of the warm, happy feelings inside of him, coursing through his veins like the ocean currents.

****

Once a truce has been declared and Gordon's Squad are pronounced the rightful champions, the five of them drift in groups to catch their breath. It’s hard work racing round in snow, especially when you’re practically wading in it, and Gordon flops to the ground to relish in his victory.

Virgil, predictably, begins creating, rolling a ball of snow round and round till it's as tall as Gordon! Scott and Mom head inside, tracking slush pools in their wake. John plops down beside Gordon, and then leans all the way back.

“What are you doing?” Gordon asks. John is now thrashing his arms and legs through the snow enthusiastically, flattening it beneath his gangly limbs.

“Snow angel! You try!”

Gordon shoots him a dubious look, but obeys, copying John’s movements. John helps him up, and they survey their handiwork. One small, wonky angel, one with huge wings and long legs.

“Snow day, guys!!” Scott sprints back outside. “The bus got stuck coming up the hill!”

If Gordon’s being totally honest, he’d forgotten today was technically a school day at all, too caught up in the fun and frivolity of experiencing his first ever snow.

“Try to look a little less delighted, Gordon,” Mom laughs, back in the doorway with Alan in her arms. He’s cocooned in layer upon layer, eyes wide at the landscape around him. Scott heads to where Virgil is jabbing sticks into his snowman’s sides, and holds out a carrot. Beaming, Virgil takes it and turns to Gordon.

“Wanna help make your first ever snowman?”

“Yes!”

“You can do his nose! Here,” Virgil puts the carrot in Gordon’s hands, and lifts him beneath the arms so that he’s level with the snowman’s head. Grinning, Gordon pushes the carrot in, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

It’s the perfect day, and it’s barely 9:00am. No day will ever top this day.

Unable to find the words to express all the happiness dancing little jigs in his chest, he grabs Scott and Virgil, clinging to them in a cuddle. John joins them, and before long, Mom and Alan are there too, Allie clutching at Gordon’s curls.

It’s overwhelmingly wonderful: warming in a way that is less to do with physical heat and more to do with the absolute overflow of love in his heart.

Later that day, they’ll stand around the kitchen, dripping over the tiles and arguing over who gets the first dibs of hot water. They’ll regroup in the lounge, Scott and Virgil curled together on one couch, John at their feet, Gordon tucked between Mom and Dad (who admits defeat when the car engine refuses to sputter into life) on the other. They’ll cradle Mom’s magical hot cocoa in thawing fingers - and Gordon’s will be more marshmallow than hot chocolate - and put on a movie they’ll be too busy talking through to pay much attention. Dad will light a fire, guiding Scott through creating the perfect log stack, and the crackling heat of it will lull them to sleep one at a time.

It will be the perfect day.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #tag team secret santa #secret santa 2020 #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #alan tracy #Lucille Tracy #jeff tracy

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flowerfan2 · 4 years

Text

Love Is The Seventh Wave

McDanno, A03, 2400 words

Written for the H50 Writers Club Discord “Danny Deserves Better” challenge

“Are you serious?” she says, and all eyes in the writer’s room turn towards her. “That’s just cruel. And it makes no sense.”

“It’s dramatic, Lola.”

“Lilla,” she corrects, surprised that the douchebag even came close, given that he hasn’t spoken more than those three words to her since she started working for him a month ago. “Just hear me out. What if instead of having totally out of character bathroom sex with Joanna....”

*****

Danny’s sipping idly at his drink when he notices the woman sitting nearby. She’s pretty, her dark hair a contrast to her light silky blouse, and she’s about as out of place at this bar at ten o’clock in the morning as Danny is.

She looks up at him, and Danny cracks a smile. “You looking at me?”

The woman shakes her head. “The television’s behind you. And I desperately need a distraction.”

Same here, Danny thinks. “Well, if you’d rather have a live distraction than whatever’s on the news, I’m happy to oblige.”

The woman smiles and moves over to the seat next to him, bringing her coffee with her. “At this point I’m willing to try anything.”

“Buy you a drink? Wine, beer, scotch on the rocks?”

“Nah, I’m good. Not quite desperate enough to drink the hard stuff before noon.” She glances at Danny’s glass.

“Club soda,” he admits, and she grins.

“We’re practically twins.” She sticks out her hand. “I’m Joanna.”

“Danny.” Her hand is soft, but her grip is firm and doesn’t linger. “It’s nice to meet you. So, what do you want to talk about?”

“Oh, anything but my love life.”

A laugh bursts out of Danny. “Get right to the point, do you?”

“No sense wasting time. For all I know, you’re a reporter doing a story on bars that open before noon and you’ll have to dash off to the next one any minute now.”

“No chance. I’m a detective, actually. But I’m taking a personal day.”

She gives him an appraising look. “A cop? But you seem so nice.”

“Ha, ha, ha. Very funny.”

“So,” Joanna says, “why a personal day?”

Danny takes a moment wondering how to answer this – he’s not really sure himself – when his phone rings. It’s Steve, of course, and the fact that hearing his voice makes his whole body light up just adds fuel to the giant dumpster fire that is his life. He hangs up after a few minutes and turns back to Joanna.

“Who was that?”

“My partner.”

Joanna looks at him appraisingly, and then nods. “Yeah, I’ve got one of those.”

“You’re a cop too?”

She snorts. “Um, no, that’s not what I meant. I’m a lawyer, actually.”

Danny’s confused. “So you have, what, law partners?”

Joanna takes a packet of sugar and adds it to the fresh coffee the bartender has set down in front of her. “You’re a little oblivious, aren’t you?”

It’s said with such amusement that Danny isn’t mad, and he’s happy to play along. “Oblivious about what?”

Joanna sighs and takes a careful sip of her drink, then stirs it some more. “You’re telling me that guy you just spoke to is your work partner?”

“Yes, who else would he be?” Danny has his own answer for this, but it’s a fantasy he hasn’t entertained in, oh, at least an hour or so.

Joanna shrugs noncommittally.

They slip into a more or less comfortable silence, and Danny contemplates his club soda. It’s just as boring as it was when he started it. He’s not even sure why he’s here, at a random bar on the north shore. When he woke up this morning, knowing he had a day free to do anything he wanted, a day off from work and all of its headaches, the first thing he thought of was checking the weather report to see what the waves would be like – because surfing with Steve is one of his favorite things to do to de-stress. But then he realized that Steve didn’t have the day off too, and it all seemed pointless.

A day without obligations is hard to come by for a single working dad, and Danny knows in theory he should be enjoying it. But he’s not.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push.”

Danny is drawn out of his thoughts by Joanna’s comment. “No, you’re fine, it’s not you.”

Joanna leans back a little and runs a hand through her hair. “Want to know what I’m doing here?”

Danny takes in her flattering outfit, her carefully done make-up. “Waiting for a client meeting?”

She laughs. “Nope. One with my partner.”

“Your law partner,” Danny clarifies.

Joanna laughs again. “Yes. Except that’s the problem.”

“What’s the problem?”

Joanna takes a deep breath. “The truth is, I’d like it if my law partner were a little more than that.”

Danny feels a rush of shame, and looks quickly around the bar – still empty, except for the bartender. “Is this some kind of joke?”

She reaches out and puts a hand on his arm. “Relax. I’m really not pulling your chain. I’m telling the god’s honest truth.” She takes her hand back and swipes at her phone. “Here, see? We go out for drinks every Thursday night, everyone in the office. Thirsty Thursday kind of thing. Last night went on a little longer than usual, since we just got some really good news on a case.”

Joanna shows him a photograph of a tall, blond woman with her arm around Joanna, both of them in business suits and holding glasses of champagne. Several other people are crowded around them. All of them are making happy faces at the camera, except for Joanna, who has eyes only for the woman at her side.

“Oh,” says Danny.

“Yeah,” says Joanna. “And I’m pretty sure Jasper – he took the picture – sent it and about twenty other equally embarrassing ones to everyone who was there, including my partner.”

“Is that good or bad?” Danny asks.

“I’m not sure. But I’m going to find out.”

“What do you mean?”

Joanna taps her fingers on the bar, clearly a little nervous. “Okay, you’re probably going to thing I’m nuts. I went for my usual run this morning, through my neighborhood and down to the beach. It’s the same route I’ve run hundreds of times, and there isn’t much beach there, just some scrubby trees by the water’s edge, but you know any bit of beach is beautiful here, so it’s all good. And this morning, for the first time ever, I saw a honu on that little beach.

“A turtle?”

“Yeah. I’ve never seen one there before, but today there was a honu right there, a really big one.”

“Okay…”

“Honu are a symbol of good luck, right? I’ve realized that if I don’t say something to my partner soon, I’m going to lose my mind, or have to quit my job, or both – and once I saw that honu, I knew I could tell her how I feel. I’m going to do it today.”

“Wow,” Danny said, feeling buoyed by Joanna’s excitement. “You really are?”

“I really am.” Joanna stands up from her chair and straightens her skirt. “I finally realized it’s too important to keep hiding from. The way I feel about her… I think I love her, you know? And I can’t believe I’m telling you all this, maybe it’s easier because I don’t know you…”

“No, I get it,” Danny says, and he does. Sitting in this random, sunny bar, with a woman he’s never met before, with no preconceived assumptions, no rules or requirements, Danny suddenly feels like he’s opening up, too.

“I just don’t want to let a chance for love pass me by, not any more,” Joanna continues. “Not if we could really be something, and I think maybe we can. So I asked her to meet me at one of our favorite restaurants for lunch, in Haleiwa. Away from the office, somewhere private… and I better go, I don’t want to be late.”

“Of course not,” Danny says, standing too.

Joanna regards him for a long moment, and Danny squirms a little. “I think today is your lucky day, too,” Joanna says.

“Why’s that?”

“Because you met me,” Joanna says, grinning as she leaves. Danny thinks she’s right.

****

Joanna’s excitement is infectious, and Danny feels himself standing a little straighter as he leaves the bar. Maybe her plan would work for him, too. He hasn’t wanted to say anything to Steve for all the obvious reasons – he doesn’t know if Steve feels the same way despite how close they are, he’s never heard Steve express any interest in men at all, and he doesn’t want to ruin their friendship. But this constant pining is wearing away at him, and he isn’t getting any younger. What if he waits another ten years and then it turns out Steve was up for something more after all – what a waste that would be. Or what if he doesn’t have ten years to make up his mind – what if Steve’s conversation with Eddie’s veterinarian this morning turns into asking her out for a date, and they hit it off and live happily ever after?

There are millions of ways that Danny can miss his chance with Steve, and only one way to find out if he’s still got one.

Danny makes a few stops on his way back to Steve’s place. He texts Tani a few times to keep tabs on the team and make sure he knows when Steve’s heading home. He’s got a caprese salad drizzled with balsamic vinegar on the table and wine opened and breathing on the counter when he hears the front door open.

Steve appears in the doorway to the kitchen, and Danny’s jaw falls open. Steve’s wearing a dark gray button-up shirt, collar open at the neck, and black slacks that hug his ass like his cargoes never quite manage. He even looks freshly shaved.

“Hey, Danno,” Steve says, voice low, and Danny shivers. He takes a step towards Steve but somehow trips over his own feet and the carving knife in his hand goes flying to the ground.

Steve sucks in a breath, and they both stare at the knife, stuck in the floorboards about an inch away from Danny’s bare right toe. “Huh,” says Steve. “Lucky.”

Danny sucks in a breath and shakes his head, trying to grab on to anything at all that makes sense. “Why’re you dressed up?” he finally comes up with, which isn’t particularly witty but is somewhat better than oh my fucking god what is going on here, which is a close second.

Steve smirks. “I’ve got a date.”

Danny’s heart sinks. He’s too late, he’s just one goddamn day too late, this is his life every single time. He was a fool for thinking otherwise.

“With that vet?”

Steve looks determined. “No, not with the vet.” Steve crouches down at his feet and retrieves the knife, then places it in the sink. He’s right up in Danny’s space. “You look nice too,” Steve says, and at first Danny think’s it’s a non sequitur, but then he takes in Steve’s expression, that cocky confidence with an undercurrent of uncertainty, and the way Steve is lining up his own very nicely clad shoulder with Danny’s, and suddenly the clouds part and all is clear.

“Wait,” Danny says. “What do you think… How did you…?”

Steve’s face does something that seems to be a cross between a smirk and a hopeful grin. “Tani said you texted her a few times today.”

“So?”

“She said you were buying wine.”

Danny bites his lip. “Again, so?”

“You never buy wine, unless you’re cooking a fancy meal.”

“I buy wine all the time.”

“When was the last time?”

Danny has to think pretty hard about it, and that’s when he knows he’s losing this particular argument. He still has hope for winning the war, however, so he stops talking about wine.

“Can we go back to the part where you said you had a date? Because you’re not acting like you have a date.”

“No?” Steve asks. “How should I be acting?” Steve somehow moves even closer to Danny, tilting his head, waiting for Danny’s answer.

Danny can feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he thinks he might be getting light headed.

“Come on, Danny,” Steve says, his breath puffing against Danny’s skin. “How should I be acting?”

Danny just blinks up at him, and then he’s saved from having to come up with an answer by Steve’s lips pressing against his own. Danny thinks he lets out something like a moan as his mouth opens under Steve’s, and he slides his hands up Steve’s back under his ridiculous shirt and pulls him close.

****

“You can’t possibly have known what I was going to do just from Tani telling you I was buying wine.”

Steve flops over onto his back. The sheet is pulled up just over his stupidly attractive hip bones, and Danny sneakily reaches out a finger to slide it back down again.

“Honestly, all I knew was that it seemed like you were getting ready for a date,” Steve says. “And it made me realize that I could lose my chance with you, anytime. You could meet someone, maybe even that woman you were talking to at the bar this morning, and it would be too late for us. So I changed into the spare clothes I keep at the office, and figured I’d give it my best shot.”

Danny pushes up on an elbow. “Have you eaten a radioactive spider lately? Drank some kind of serum?”

“No…”

“Because the mindreading shit is frankly disturbing… I literally – and I mean the actual meaning of literally, not the one the kids are using these days – I literally had that same thought today. That you’d finally get up the nerve to ask out that vet again, or fall in love while buying ammunition, or save some gorgeous lady’s pet parakeet from terrorists, and I’d lose my chance with you.”

Steve turns towards Danny, his face brimming with affection. “I guess today really was our lucky day, then.”

Danny grins into Steve’s kiss. He’s gonna send Joanna a fruit basket. And maybe give a great big donation to whatever organization looks out for the honu, because he owes them, too.

#McDanno #H50 #H50 fic #Steve McGarrett #Danny Williams

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thelastspeecher · 4 years

Text

I can’t think of a good title, so I’m not gonna give this a title.

A little while ago, I got in a major mood for my Stay-at-Home Stan AU (my AU where Stan becomes a stay-at-home dad), to the point that I wanted to write a thing for it, but couldn’t think of one. Luckily, @bluestuffeh came up with a premise. So, here’s Stan, the legendary stay-at-home dad, helping Ford, the legendary mess, with a parenting problem.

Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

Stan strolled into the house, whistling. He dropped his keys in the bowl by the door.

Well, this is what life is gonna be like when the girls finally start school. His hands on his hips, he looked around the living room. Danny and Daisy had just been dropped off at some summer program being thrown by the local library. They were finally old enough to do the activities alone, so Stan was trying to get used to spending the day at home on his own. After all, they would be starting kindergarten in the fall.

“What am I supposed to do?” Stan muttered to himself.

It’s been so long since I did something other than take care of them. I forgot what I can do with free time. Stan frowned thoughtfully. Hobbies are a thing, right? I haven’t been able to have hobbies for five years. What did I like before I became a dad? I know there was at least one thing.

“You could always do some cleaning,” Angie’s voice said in the back of Stan’s mind. Stan thought on that for a moment.

Nah. Trying to remember what hobbies I have is better. Before Stan could spend any more time thinking, the phone rang. He sighed in relief. Good. Coming up with hobbies sucks. He walked over to the phone.

“McGucket residence,” he said, picking up the phone. “Stan speaking.”

“Stanley, good, I- I need your help,” Ford’s voice said desperately. Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What did you do this time?”

“Nothing!”

“Really? The last two times you needed my help, it was ‘cause ya made a deal with a demon or weren’t observing proper lab safety.”

“I disagree with Angie’s assessment of my behavior in the lab.”

“She’s got a PhD, too, Ford. And I trust her a bit more with science, since she’s never grown wings.”

“Despite you calling her your angel,” Ford muttered. Stan flushed. During his last visit, Ford had overheard Stan trying out new pet names for Angie. And he refused to let Stan live it down.

“All right, guess ya don’t need my help, then,” Stan said briskly.

“No, wait! I- I really do,” Ford said quickly. “But it’s not because of something affecting me. It’s Tate.” That got Stan’s attention. He straightened.

“Did another supernatural whatsit try to adopt him?” he asked.

“No, he’s sick.”

“Okay. What’s he sick with?”

“He claims it’s the flu, but his symptoms don’t align with influenza.” Ford’s panic was evident in his voice. Stan could picture Ford running his hands through his hair, practically pulling it out in distress. “He also says he’s had it before! Stanley, what’s-”

“Geez, Sixer, calm down,” Stan said, exasperated. “Kids get sick all the time. Don’t you remember how often we puked our guts up when we were Tate’s age?”

“Um. Yes?”

“Look, it’s probably nothing. Just ask Fidds what to do.”

“He’s not here.”

“Where is he?”

“A conference.” Ford’s voice rose in pitch. “Stanley, it’s the first time I’ve been left in charge of Tate on my own!”

“Really?” Stan asked. “He’s lived in Gravity Falls with you and Fidds for a year.” Ford spluttered for a few moments.

“I- his ex-step-mother doesn’t have much faith in my childcare abilities, and she still has partial custody of him, so legally she has a say in who watches him.”

“Right.” Stan rubbed his forehead. “Jenny still hates your guts, huh?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Stanley, I don’t know what to do, what if Tate’s seriously ill? He’s clearly delirious if he’s claiming he has influenza and he’s vomiting,” Ford said in a rush. Stan raised an eyebrow.

“He’s puking?”

“Yes! I know we vomited as children, but-”

“Ford. He doesn’t have the actual flu.”

“Of course not, his symptoms-”

“He’s got stomach flu.”

“…What?” Ford asked, dumbfounded. Stan leaned against the wall, playing with the phone cord.

“Stomach flu. The girls had it last year. I’ve seen some messes, but twin toddlers exploding from both ends? Might have been the worst.”

“What’s a stomach flu?”

“You-” Stan kneaded his forehead. “How do you not know what the stomach flu is? You’ve got a doctorate!”

“Not in medicine!”

“Yeah, but-” Stan huffed. “You’re falling into that trap of having so much education you forgot the basics.”

“Pardon?”

“Angie does it sometimes. She says that because she’s learned so much in her specialty, she sometimes forgets the things people first learn.” Stan adjusted his position. “Anyways, stomach flu is called…I forget the science word for it. It’s not the actual flu, it’s an infection of your digestive tract. Or something like that.” Stan frowned. “Uh, the girls had…I think it’s called a rotavirus. Most adults aren’t very vulnerable to it, but kids get them a lot. Could be what Tate has. If it is, all ya gotta do is manage his symptoms and wait for him to get better on his own.” Ford was silent for a moment.

“How do you know so much about this?” he asked quietly.

“Whenever anyone in her family gets sick, Angie goes nuts researching the illness.” Stan sighed. “It always makes her more paranoid, so I don’t really like it.”

“Why do you let her do it?”

“I can’t ‘let’ my wife do anything, Stanford.” Stan stretched. “It’s not super harmful for her to do, so I just complain a bit. She usually backs off once she realizes what she’s doing. Anyways, when the girls got their stomach bug, she rattled off all sortsa stuff about it. Even while she was sleeping.”

“She’s a sleeptalker?”

“Yeah.” Stan grinned. “It’s somethin’ else when someone who’s dead asleep is giving you a science lecture.”

“Hmm.” Ford cleared his throat. “So, this is likely a viral intestinal infection?”

“Probably.”

“So there’s no reason for me to take him to the emergency room?”

“Sweet Moses, Ford, no! Don’t do that!” Stan yelped.

“Wh-”

“You’ll just run up a bill and the docs ‘ll send ya away with Pepto-Bismol. Not to mention, shit sometimes goes down at ERs. Just keep him home and make sure he drinks plenty of fluids. Make him soup, give him juice and water. Has he had the Hershey squirts yet?” Stan asked. Ford let out a long-suffering sigh.

“No, Tate has not had any diarrhea.”

“He probably will. Be prepared for that.”

“Great,” Ford mumbled. “…Thank you, Stanley.”

“No problem, Sixer.” Stan chewed on his lip. “Next time-”

“Next time?!”

“Ford, I literally told you five minutes ago that kids get sick all the time. Kids are germ factories that play with other germ factories and don’t know not to eat dirt.”

“I knew not to eat dirt,” Ford muttered.

“Well, not all kids do. Tate’s gonna get sick again. And again. And again. Part of being a parent is dealing with that. Calmly. You can’t act like the world’s ending every time Tate pukes. Take it in stride. Give him some 7-Up and crackers, let him lay down and watch TV, and just keep an eye on him. Nine times outta ten, kids puke once and then they’re fine.”

“What if Tate gets worse?”

“Then you take him to see the doc. But you don’t make a big deal outta it. Kids pick up on how grownups act. If a grownup is panicking, kids are gonna panic, too. Even if you wanna scream, you keep it to yourself.” Ford was silent.

“I feel I’ve become a fool, Stanley,” he said after a moment.

“Nah. You’re just a first-time parent. You think I was this good at being a dad when I started out? No! I freaked out all the time! You get used to it. And if you feel like you’re doing something wrong, you can always call me. The girls are doing a thing at the library all summer, so I’m home alone during the day.” Stan grinned. “I kinda like telling my genius brother things he didn’t know, anyways.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Ford said. Stan could hear the eye roll in Ford’s voice. “I…I really do appreciate that, though. Fiddleford will be gone for a few more days. I’ve prepared as best as I can, but-”

“Kids torpedo all your plans,” Stan said, nodding.

“Yes.”

“Now that you’ve calmed down a bit, you should probably go check on Tate. Make sure you set him up near a bathroom and make him some soup. Tate likes the canned cream of chicken.”

“I believe we have some of that in the kitchen.”

“Warm it up for him, then. And get off the phone. I’ll help you with big things, but I’m not gonna hold your hand for this part. You know how to take care of a stomach bug.”

“…Yes, I do.” Ford chuckled softly. “Suddenly, I can recall all of the times we became sick with clarity.”

“Yep. Panicking makes you ignore things sometimes.”

“You are correct.” Ford took a breath. “Thank you, again.”

“No problem. Go take care of your kid.”

“I will. Goodbye.”

“Bye.” Stan hung up the phone. He looked up at the ceiling blankly for a few minutes, wistfully remembering some of Danny and Daisy’s firsts. After a while, he broke free of the memories. He was glad to have had those moments with his daughters, but he was also glad they were in the past. Panicked phone calls to Angie’s parents weren’t something he missed. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“So…what hobbies do dads have?”

#I've said it before and I'll say it again: dad Stan is best Stan #DAD STAN IS BEST STAN HE'S SO QUALITY #that man was MEANT to be a dad #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #Stay at Home Stan AU #ficlet #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

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chac-ozai · 5 years

Photo

WYD 2nite (Dadsona/Robert Small) drawn and written for @maxamillionbillion who liked the idea of Robert showing up to your house in his pajamas looking to chill.

Fic below cut>>>

He always does like to show up unannounced. Who the hell am I to turn him away? Man, it's late though, I check the clock and it's past midnight, and for someone who's getting as much grays as I am, that's just as good as being morning already...and that's juuuust when Robert gets going.

The house is empty, ever since Amanda left. When I get to the door, shuffling like the old man I'm becoming, it's already open. Robert's standing there in his pajamas, perched against the doorframe holding what I hope is my last copy Fortean Times he “borrowed” last week.

“Did you just pick my lock?” I ask- I wouldn't hold it over Robert honestly if he knew how. “-Or am I just being an idiot and leaving it unlocked again?”

“What, I never told you about the time I broke myself out of the pen in Gibraltar? 1978? Eh? Doesn't ring a bell?” Rob invites himself in, my eyes trail his pajama-clad legs and notice that the bottoms of his bare feet are green from a freshly mowed lawn.

“If you did, you're gonna have to tell me again.”

“Psh, It's old news. I'm lying by the way, you left your door open.” Robert had a package of lite-sodium popcorn in his tattooed hand, he stretches and rubs his graying hair vigorously as he throws the package onto my kitchen table as if he owned the place. “-And I thought I was the one losing my memory.”

“...Would you have broken the lock if I didn't answer the door?” I throw myself on the couch with plenty of room on the other side where Robert had recently been making “his spot”, it was right where Amanda used to sit when we would marathon Baked, Naked, and Caked on Netflix.

“Nah, wouldn't need to. Your windows are unlocked, too.” Robert presented this fact by easily swinging open my kitchen window, a smarmy little grin on his face.

“Well then, I guess the place is yours.” I have to admit it, “Where's Betsy?”

“Taking a dump on your lawn.” Robert reaches into my fridge and invites himself to my precious seltzer, I peek behind me out the still-open door and lo and behold there she was, beady little terrier eyes catching the light from my perfect, perfect lawn.

“Ah shit. I ain't going out there for that. Come on Bobby, if you're going to raid my fridge at least close the front door.”

“Ooooh~” Robert flailed his hands beside his head, mimicking a fussy Brooklyn mother “Yer gunna let the spiduhs in, Bobby.” After Betsy comes scrambling in, he kicks the door closed and leaves a tiny green smudge on the wood. Whatever, he's cute and he gets away with more shit than I should let him get away with.

“You'se the one who doesn't like spiduhs.” I mimic him, man that accent cracks me up. “So what's the occasion tonight? Anything worth keeping me up until 5 am this time?”

“Come on, every occasion is worth that amount of your time. Look,” He procured a USB stick from his pajama pocket- “I pirated the latest season of Forensic Files.”

“Oh great, this will definitely get me locking my doors and windows.” I stretch and watch as Robert squats in front of my TV, fiddling with the system he'd rigged up for us, cracking open his drink the meantime. My dad instincts tell him to keep the soda away from the electronics, but by the time I muster up anything to say he's already raising the volume on my TV, snapping his fingers in accomplishment.

“Aight. Aight, I think this is good. Sit tight, I'm gonna microwave this popcorn.”

“Aight.” I mimic him again, helplessly grinning as my best friend made full use of my kitchen. Betsy made herself welcome right on my lap for the two minutes that transpired of gradual pops turning into a cacophony of corn bursting from their husks. Robert was seemingly just staring at it spin in the machine, watching the bag bloat out, his mind somewhere else.

“Soo....how was therapy today?” I feel obligated to ask, I was the one who talked him into it.

“You know what? Not bad.” Robert cracks his neck, and after a brief incident of him futzing with the hot bag and almost dropping it all, he brings it over. “I think I've worked my way up to not talking about movies with her.”

“Well, it's a start.” I laugh, “At least you aren't inserting yourself into the Home Alone storyline anymore.” I practically bounce as Robert throws himself ass-first onto his side of my couch, tucking his feet under the blanket.

“Well it wasn't too far off, there where wet bandits.”

“As you've said.” He and I clink our seltzer's together, my best buddy and I wriggling into our seats and getting comfy.

“Alexa, turn off the lights.” I demand, and Rob's eyes bug out of his head-

“That thing again? Man, you need to shut that thing off, it's harvesting information out of you!” Robert lunges up out of the chair he'd just gotten comfy in and goes to unplug my Alexa, the lights having already gone out.

“What information could it possibly get out of me? How many times a day I take a dump?”

“You fool,you rube.” Robert takes my gadget and throws it under a pillow, effectively suffocating it. “That information is precious and belongs to you and you alone!” Bobby looks a little insane at that moment, something I never get tired of.

“Alright, calm down. Don't get a big dick over it.” Robert makes his way back to the couch and grunts as he throws himself back on it, a testy glance in my direction before pressing play.

“You'll see. One day you will.”

“Uh huh.” I humor him, reaching over and patting his blanket-covered knee. “That'll do, Bobby.”

An air of silence comes over us both as the TV comes to life, we've grown so accustomed to the companionable quiet since we've become best friends. Soon we're engrossed in a gruesome tale, and at times I sneak peeks over at Robert's face, his baby brown eyes reflecting gruesome images from the screen. He may be utterly entranced but I can never reach that level, not when he's across from me like this. He was talking at the screen, gesturing angrily-

“Fuckin moron, should have locked his doors. Anybody could just walk in and- ugh!” He rolls his eyes, I would be lying if I said I didn't love how intense he gets about these true crime shows. Every time he throws his arms out I catch a whiff of his cologne, that subtle freshness and sandalwood.

By the time the first episode was done and the second, and then third came and went, Robert leaps off the couch and makes his way to what I imagine is the bathroom. The light down the hall illuminated some creepy shadows down towards my bedroom, and my hair stands on end- I get up and start locking all the windows in my house.

“Eeeurgh.” I could hear Robert groaning from the bathroom with the door wide open, followed by an anticlimactic fart.

“That was a good one.” I could only laugh, man I hope by the time Amanda comes home for Thanksgiving I won't be regressed to a caveman, the way we two just let everything hang out.

“Don't say that, it sucked. What are you doing?” He reenters the room to see me testing the resilience of my kitchen window lock, I shoot him a guilty look and return to my post on the couch, Betsy having already made her bed for the night on my recliner.

“Oh you know, worrying.”

“Yeah, I see that.” Robert smiles and I kind of melt, kind of. “Alright, back to the show.” Without warning Robert yanks the blanket off of me and throws himself against me, wriggling his bare back against my chest, offering to be my little spoon. He pulls the blanket over us both and remains there without a word-

Man, this is the part of the night I love the most. Robert never admits it, never asks for it, but I know he's learned to appreciate the art of a good cuddle. I'd like to call myself a master, as I wrap my arm loosely around his, feeling the welcoming warmth of his bare skin. He squirms briefly and finds a comfortable place for his head, I don't mind his flyaway hairs blocking half the screen. I ain't worried about the show anymore.

I behave myself. It's hard to sometimes, Robert's cologne smells so good and he's so firm yet soft-skinned; it could bring a man to act on his impulses. I allow myself chaste touches, small comforting circles over his bicep, his hip. The hitching of his breath when I accidentally tickle him distracts me so much I am soon lost to the TV, it's just annoying noise muffling what I really want to hear.

Damn. Thoughts where wandering again. By the time Robert spoke up, his voice was croaky with sleep, he hooked his leg around mine and leans into me hard. “Think you got one more in you?”

“I think there's only so much double homicide I can get into before I start phasing out.”

Robert cranes his neck and turns to look up at me, his eyes bloodshot and exhausted. “Quitter.” He grins, “This'll wake you up.” The bastard suddenly presses the soles of his cold feet against my shins, I stifle a yelp-

“Herrrk- God damn, Fine, one more. One more.”

“Good.”

I don't think I even made it past the opening sequence. By the time I open my eyes again sun is filtering in through the locked windows, Robert was drooling freely onto the hand I had placed under his cheek. Man do I gotta leak, and I'm pretty sure I hear Betsy drinking out of the toilet; but I can't bring myself to budge and wake Bobby. I never could. Huh, wish I could reach my word jumbles from here.

I look at the clock, 5 am. I still have a few hours before work, I'm going to hold onto every second I have of Robert asleep against me as I can.

#Robert Small #Dream Daddy #dadsona #fanfiction #dream daddy fanfic #my gay art #dream daddy fanart

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years

Text

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Seventeen: Chocolate ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uzumaki Naruto ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

“P...please accept my feelings!”

The entire hallway goes quiet as a timid yet shrill voice calls out. In the archway of double doors, a girl holds out a box of homemade chocolates, form bowed and face downturned toward the floor. A curtain of dark hair hides her from the scrutiny.

Opposite her, a blond boy staggers back half a step, clearly both taken aback...and unnerved.

“I, uh...that is...er…”

An agonizing silence falls.

“I...I’m sorry, Hinata-chan. I...I can’t.”

A collective breath is drawn, all eyes shifting from the object of affection to the proclaimer.

Arms shake, her form trembling as the weight of dozens of eyes seems to collapse atop her. Suddenly they retract, crossing over the gift and her chest before she takes a few uncertain steps...and then sprints from sight.

Whispering and laughter breaks out, the spell suddenly broken. The rumor mill and gossip train take off at full speed. Was that Hyūga Hinata, that weird, quiet girl from 3-C? Did she really just confess to Uzumaki Naruto? He’s star of the basketball team! Who is she kidding? Sure, her dad’s rich...but she’s such a loser!

In the wake, Naruto stands and stares as though lost in thought, brow slightly furrowed.

A pair of dark eyes watch him before a scoff can be heard, slipping through the crowds and out of sight.

Beyond the front doors, around a corner and tucked into a small inlet in the school’s architecture, Hinata brings her knees to her chest, attempting to make herself as small as humanly possible. He said no...she should have known he would say no! But she had to try. So many years of watching him from a distance...it had to come to a head sooner or later. But why, why, why did she do it when the hallway was so crowded? It just...happened! And now the entire school will know by now, and she can never go back, she can never -!

“Oi.”

Head snapping up with a sharp intake of breath, Hinata stiffens as someone stands a few feet in front of her. In a hand is her discarded box of chocolates, still wrapped and in one piece...though a little worse for wear after her tossing it. “Y-you…?”

“Looks like you dropped something...really gonna throw it away after all your hard work?”

Arms crossed atop her knees, Hinata sinks her chin on them, pale eyes downcast. “...w-what does it matter...he didn’t w-want them…”

“Doesn’t mean they’re worthless. Just means you gave them to the wrong person.”

A pause as she considers that. “...you’re...y-you’re not here to make fun of me…?”

“Why would I?”

“You’re Naruto-kun’s best friend.”

“...and?”

“...but -?”

“Doesn’t mean I agree with everything he does. And it doesn’t mean I pick on anyone that he dislikes, or...just doesn’t like. It’s not like he hates you. He just likes someone else.”

“...Sakura-chan…”

“Yeah.”

“But...but she likes -?”

“Me. And I don’t like her.” Sasuke sighs, tossing her the box (which she fumbles to catch) before taking a seat himself, posture lax. “It’s just high school drama. Don’t let it get to you, Hyūga. You’ll find someone a lot better for you than the dobe. If he’s thick enough to prefer a loudmouth flirt like Sakura over someone like you, then...his loss.”

Blinking, she can’t help but ask, “You...you think I’m b-better than Sakura-chan…?”

He seems to pause and backpedal. “...I didn’t say that. I just mean you’re...not as obnoxious. Then again, I guess loud is just Naruto’s type...they suit each other.”

Hinata can’t help a soft giggle at that. “...I...guess you’re right. I was a f-fool for liking him...I guess I just...wished I could be like him. He’s so...confident. And everyone likes him…”

“Wasn’t always that way. He was bullied a lot when we were younger.”

“...I remember…”

“So, that’s proof that no one really stays the same. And high school is just a phase. The odds you’ll find someone worthwhile to keep around after is pretty slim. Everyone moves on, branches out, changes…”

“You...seem to know a lot about it…”

“I have an older brother. Five years older. He doesn’t really talk to anyone he knew in high school. He doesn’t even live in this town anymore. Just...don’t see anything here as the end-all, be-all. If someone doesn’t eat your chocolates now...find someone else who will.”

After all of Sasuke’s sage advice, ending on that note begets a light laugh.

“...what?”

“Nothing. That’s...a v-very good analogy.” She takes up her box, sighing. “I stayed up late making them...mostly I just feel bad they’ll g-go to waste.”

“What, you can’t eat them?”

“W-well...I could, I guess. But...I don’t know…they feel a bit spoiled to me now...and how s-sad is it to eat your own confession chocolates…”

“It’s not confession chocolate anymore. It’s just chocolate. That you made and worked hard on. So screw the dobe and enjoy your own hard work. If he won’t appreciate it...whatever. Let it be the first example of working on something for yourself, rather than for someone else.”

Still a bit unsure why Sasuke’s even here, let alone telling her all this, Hinata pauses before looking back to the box. ...maybe he’s right… Tugging at the paper, she unwraps the box and lifts the lid. A neat dozen chocolates are still in one piece.

“...um...do you want one?”

“Me? Nah...I’m not big on sweets.”

“W-what?!”

“...what?”

“How can...how can you not like chocolate…?” Sure, her favorite treats are technically cinnamon buns, but...to not like sweets in general seems a crime!

“I dunno...it must have all went to my brother. Anything with sugar in it, he’s all over.”

Hinata can’t help a light pout. “...maybe I should give them to him, then…”

“I’m afraid he’s got someone else to make him chocolates already.”

“So what would a girl have to give you, then?”

“...why?”

“Just...j-just wondering! If you don’t like sweets, then…?”

“I dunno.” Sasuke goes quiet, thinking. “...even if she made sweets, I’d take them. If I liked her, of course.”

“...but you…?”

“It wouldn’t matter if I didn’t like them. She’d taken the time to make them. Just for me. What kind of ass would I be if I said no, just because she made an honest mistake? To me, it’s more the thought than the gift.” Pause. “...thing is, I only get gifts with no real thought to them…”

That makes her go quiet, looking back to the chocolates thoughtfully. Plucking one from the box, she pops it in her mouth. It is really good chocolate. “...here.”

A brow perks as she holds the box out. “...uh…?”

“Just try one. I don’t b-believe someone can dislike chocolate.”

The Uchiha snorts. “All right, fine…” He snags a piece, giving it a glance before it disappears into his maw.

She waits.

“...for chocolate, it’s good. Just too sweet. Ever make anything with cocoa that’s more bitter?”

“Um...no. But...I could…?”

He shrugs.

“...Sasuke-kun, why...why did you come out here?”

“Looking for you.”

“But...why?”

“Because my friend was an ass to you, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She blinks at him.

“Naruto’s thick as a brick...but he didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. He just didn’t want to lie to you, either.” He scowls. “...coulda taken you aside before answering though...he’s such a moron…”

“Well, I...I did spring it on him.”

“Still, he never thinks.”

“...I’m...glad he didn’t lie to me. Just to make me feel better. It would have been worse learning the truth later.”

“...yeah.”

It’s then the warning bell after lunch rings, and Hinata jolts. “Oh, s-shoot...I didn’t eat my bento...and you didn’t get to eat either!”

“I’m fine.”

“But -?”

“Like I said, I wanted to be sure you weren’t upset. Well...more than reasonably, anyway.” With a huff, Sasuke hauls himself to his feet, holding out a hand. “I’m sorry about what happened, but you’re right. Better a bitter truth than a sweet lie.”

“...is that why you don’t like sweets?” she asks, accepting and letting him pull her up.

He blinks...and then snorts. “...maybe so. C’mon Hyūga, or we’re gonna be late.”

“You know, you can call me Hinata if...if you want.”

“...all right then. Hinata.”

The pair part ways, being in different classrooms. Around her, Hinata hears the whispers, feels the stares. It’s then she realizes...she’s still carrying the chocolates. Considering them, she shrugs her shoulders...and pops another one.

Bitter cocoa, huh…? I might have to give that a try.

Welp, got this done a little later than I wanted, but at least it's done, right? As soon as I saw the prompt, I knew exactly what I wanted to write for it! Poor Hinata...but you know what they say: where one door shuts, another one opens. And I think Sasuke's holding THIS door ;3c Anywho...that's all for tonight! Short and sweet, much to Sasuke's displeasure lol - as always, thank you so much for stopping by to read!

#uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #uzumaki naruto #sasuhina #best years of your life [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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us2dinosaurplanet · 3 years

Text

Ultimate Story 2: Dinosaur Planet-Chapter 14: The City of Day and Night

After Fox and the others landed, they met up with Princess Peach. They looked out towards the entire area. Large, T-rexes, which are called Red Eyes, were stomping about the entire place. Peach: “Wow! Walled City. Stay close, everyone. These ferocious creatures look more hungry than friendly.”

Then they ran to a bridge and hid behind an archway after they crossed it. Fox: “Those t-rexes DO look hungry. Boy, if Buttercup were here, she would beat them all senseless, that is if she wasn’t too busy crying. Right, Bubbles? Bubbles?” Bubbles: “Big deal! I can beat up these t-rexes a lot better than 20 Buttercups!”

Bubbles flew to the nearest t-rex beat it up senseless. However, you only see Fox and the others watch as she beats it up. If you look towards Bubbles, afterward, you’ll see her laughing with hands on her hips while the t-rex below her lays unconscious. Bubbles: “Too easy!”

She continued laughing. Fox came out of hiding and walked up to Bubbles while applauding. Fox: “Very impressive, Bubbles.” Bubbles: “Am I the greatest or what?” Fox: “Heh! You can say that again.”

Then Peach came out of hiding and ran to the both of them. Peach: “Alright you 2. Enough fooling around. Don’t forget that we’re here to find the king. You can make it your mission to fight the t-rexes after we find him, OK?” Bubbles: “(Sigh) OK.” Fox: “Don’t worry, Peach, we’ll find him, I’ll make sure of that.”

Later, Fox and his friends searched the area until they found some sort of strange platform. Bubbles and Misty jumped on it and attempted to ground pound it, but it wouldn’t even shatter. Misty: “Hm, this is one really tough door.” Peach: “Oh, dear. There must be some way to open it.” Fox: “Guess we’ll have to find a way. Come on, let’s go search the entire place.”

They rushed off and did just that.

Within much time, they came across a number of challenges. They worked diligently to completed all of them. With that, the door that they attempted to break earlier opened up. They eventually returned to it. From inside the chamber within, they heard a voice. Voice: “Huh? Who goes there?” Tricky: “That’s my dad!”

Tricky ran into the chamber as the others followed. When inside, they received a little surprise. Peach: “(Gasp) King Earthwalker!”

That’s right! They find him. The Earthwalker king, himself. The ruler of the Earthwalker tribe, right next to his wife, the Queen Earthwalker, and an important support of Dinosaur Planet. Fox and his friends watched as Tricky nuzzled on the king’s leg like a cat. King Earthwalker: “Tricky, my son, you don’t have to worry about me. I am the king. (Laugh)”

He soon spotted Fox and the others. King Earthwalker: “Ah, the famous Starfox and friends, heroes of Dinosaur Planet.” Fox: “Uh, yeah, that’s us.”

He was about to ask him a question King Earthwalker: “But before you ask, no, I haven’t got the Spellstone but I know how you can get it: in order to enter the lair of the Redeye king, you must find and return the sacred Redeye teeth to there proper place.” Peach: “Thanks for the info, your Kingship. We’ll get on it, right away.” Bubbles:” Now can I go and beat up more t-rexes?” Peach: “Sure, Bubbles. Go ahead.”

Bubbles immediately flew out of the chamber, the rest took off towards other parts of the area to search for the sacred teeth.

Within much time, Fox and the others could only find one of the sacred teeth. They were at a loss of where to find the other one until Bubbles returned, revealing that she had found the other one after she defeated all of the t-rexes. They soon returned to the chamber that the king is still in. There, Fox placed the tooth that he and the others found in one of the fierce-looking statues and Bubbles placed the tooth that she found in the mouth of the other statue. Then a chamber door between the statues open up and Fox rushed into immediately.

He ran through a dark hallway and stopped in a large chamber. Suddenly, a giant door shut right behind him, knocking him off his feet, and another door at a far distant opened up and revealed a giant t-rex. It was bigger than any of the others that Bubbles fought earlier. The giant beast came out and was heading towards Fox. Fox’s mind: “Oh, man. What should I do? I must think up somethingfast, or I’ll be eaten alive, for sure.”

Just then, he spotted a fuel barrel generator right near him. Fox’s mind: “Perfect! Something to throw at the beast, but how will I disable it?”

Then he saw a pressure plate right in front of him. Fox: “Well, it’s worth a shot.”

He got himself up and ran to the fuel barrel, picked it up, and then darted over towards the pressure plate. He stepped on just as soon as the t-rex came towards him, causing it to be to fall to the ground by the electric source coming from the walls in front of Fox. He has a conceited smile on his face. Fox: “Perfect!”

He ran to the t-rex and threw the barrel at it.

After he did this 3 more times, the t-rex gave up and collapsed on the floor for the moment. Fox walked up to its forehead and used his staff to pry the Spellstone off. Then the Spellstone falls off the beast’s forehead and shortly slid on the floor. As he was going over towards it to pick up the Spellstone, he heard something from behind him. Turns out that the t-rex wasn’t finished off, yet. Oh-no! Just then, a blue flash of light broke through the door in front of Fox and beat up the t-rex. Fox leapt out of the way just in time and looked towards what the blue flash of light was. Fox: “Bubbles!” Bubbles: “I’ll take care of this beast! You go get the Spellstone!”

He nodded and proceeded with what he was doing before he was interrupted. After he picked up the Spellstone, he heard a voice that was calling for him. Fox: “Huh?”

He looked towards the doorway that Bubbles crashed through and saw Misty walking in. She was crying and relieved. Fox: “Misty!”

Fox ran to her and she did the same to him until they put their arms around each other. Misty: “Oh, Fox, I was so worried you. After you entered the chamber, a strong metallic door closed in front of us. I didn’t know if you were hurt or not. I didn’t know what to do. I panicked.”

He rubbed the back of her head and whispered to her. Fox: “Shhhhhh. It’s OK, Misty, it’s OK. I’m fine, the Spellstone has been retrieved; it’s over.”

Later, Fox, Misty, and Bubbles met back at the Arwing with the king, Tricky, and the others. Tricky: “Did you get it?”

Fox nodded. Tricky: “Dad, look what we got.” King Earthwalker: “Very nice job, guys. I’m proud of all of you.” Peach: “You’re very welcome, your Mightiness, but aren’t you coming with us back to the planet?” King Earthwalker: “Nah, I’ll stay here until the city returns to the planet.” Peach: “Oh, that reminds me; sir, we have met the queen earlier and she wanted me to say that she said hi and that she misses you.” King Earthwalker: “Aw thanks for the message, Princess Peach. I miss her a lot, too.” Fox: “I don’t blame you.”

He put his arm around Misty. Fox: “I would be devastated if I were too separated from Misty without a reason.” Peach:” Hm…really? Does that mean you…?” Fox: “NO!” King Earthwalker:” Huh?”

Peach whispered to the King. Peach: “Fox and Misty doesn’t know it, yet but they’re in love with each other.” King Earthwalker: “Oh and you’re trying to remind them.” Peach: “Right.” Fox: “Now if you excuse us, we’ve got a volcano to return this Spellstone to.”

And so, Fox and his friends said good-bye to the king and prepared themselves to leave for Dinosaur Planet.

#Ultimate Story #Ultimate Story 2 #Dinosaur Planet #Starfox Adventures #Walled City #Fox McCloud #Misty #Bubbles #Princess Peach #Rayman #Banjo-Kazooie #Pikachu #Prince Tricky #King Earthwalker #SpellStone

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sealegs2414blankpages · 7 years

Text

OSFTSB ~ Ch. 3 Reminisce

Stretching as much as one could on a couch, Yoongi opened his eyes to see another day. His first thoughts unsurprisingly were on the man occupying his bed. Yoongi sat up and ran his hand through his bleached blonde locks a few times before shoving the blanket off completely and standing up. He looked around but didn’t see anyone. Perhaps Jungkook was still sleeping. As if he needed that. It was already bad enough that last night had maybe gazed upon the younger as he slept soundly wrapped up in his sheets for a few moments. A few moments being almost twenty minutes. That was much too long but once his feet had taken him from his bathroom, had drank too much water before bed, and planted themselves on the side of his bed he couldn’t seem to move. It was too easy to get lost in his thoughts and much too easy to take in more of face of a friend that he hadn’t seen in years. A face that he never thought he would ever have to go without seeing at one point in time. A face that belonged to the man who made him feel more than any other person ever had before.

Ignoring his bedroom, he didn’t want to get caught in an awkward position, he walked into the kitchen. Sitting along the bar top was a plate with breakfast already made. His mug was next to the plate, waiting for coffee to be poured into it. A small note was placed next to both, scribbled in handwriting that could only be from one person. Did he leave? That was odd, generally, Yoongi would have to kick the kid out of his apartment but… things were different now. It was something he had to keep reminding himself even though they met again for less than 24 hours. He probably would have to for the next week with or without seeing Jungkook again.

Yoongi hyung,

I wanted to thank you for taking me in last night. I appreciate it more than you know. I tried to make you breakfast since I didn’t want to wake you but you only had eggs and teriyaki spam? in your kitchen. What even is spam? Uh, I probably shouldn’t have written that when I cooked it for you. I promise it tastes good… Maybe… Good luck! Coffee is in the pot and your favorite mug is at the ready. Thank you again. If you ever need anything, call me.

Jungkook

P.S. If you don’t have it, here’s my number.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

If it tastes like shit, it’s not my fault ;)

And there it was that one sentence that made Yoongi’s breath hitch, catching in his throat making him at a loss on how to exhale nor inhale.

If you ever need anything, call me.

Call me.

A hand was extended, previously Yoongi would call it a lifeline but it’s not. He can live just fine without Jungkook, he has been for the last couple of years. He’s known Jungkook since he was eight and they moved to the same neighborhood. They lost contact in school a little bit here and there but not enough to ever lose contact completely or not have the others phone number. Even though Yoongi had cut off contact he had never deleted Jungkook’s phone number. Unless the younger had changed it, he could still contact him. In fact, he almost had a multitude of times. Generally, Namjoon would take his phone away, shaking his head and grumbling and Yoongi thanked him for those moments. The first year was extremely hard but time heals everything doesn’t it?

Sliding onto the barstool, Yoongi picked up the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. It wasn’t hot but it was still warm enough to drink. He re-read the note and couldn’t help but laugh at the way Jungkook’s mind went in so many different directions, exposing himself when he didn’t have to. It was just like the younger. Nothing had changed.

“Why is he so cute?”

He spoke quietly into the air, as his eyes read over the note yet again. Letting out a sigh, he pushed the note to the side and stared at the breakfast that had been made for him. It at least looked edible. The eggs weren’t burnt, they were fluffy yellow eggs. Hm, did he have milk too? It wasn’t as if Yoongi didn’t know what was in his fridge but… he didn’t know what was in his fridge. He hadn’t really been home much the past week, holing up in his studio that he finally was able to acquire a few months ago.

He poked at the teriyaki spam a few times before finally picking it up with his chopsticks and trying it. Chewing the smallest bit, he decided that it wasn’t half bad but also didn’t see the appeal. How was this an American staple? That’s what Namjoon had said as he tossed it in the cart. He was going to have to ask his friend later. The spam had been in his pantry for awhile but tasted fine enough.

Yoongi didn’t finish every speck of food on his plate because Jungkook had cooked him a meal but because he didn’t like food going to waste. With his dishes washed and put away, Yoongi made his way back to the living room to grab his phone hopefully before his alarm went off. He certainly had chosen the most obnoxious alarm there was and it did it’s job. Swiping his iPhone from the coffee table, he quickly turned the impending alarm off and opened up his messages.

Joon 8:02am: Don’t forget I need you here by 9:30

Okay, dad. That’s what Yoongi wanted to reply but didn’t. Instead he replied with,

Me 8:41am: Spam can’t possibly be an American staple.

Scrolling through the rest of his notification, his bare feet padded across the cool hardwood floor to his soft carpeted bedroom. The blonde’s phone vibrated in his hand a moment later. Joon scrolling across the top in notification.

Joon 8:42am: It is dude.

Wait did you finally eat it? Isn’t it like a year old?

Pulling out jeans and a graphic tee, he quickly changed and grabbed the nearest beanie. He didn’t have any fucks to give about his hair. Especially not since he slept on it wet and was sure it looked pretty awful. Picking up his phone from the dresser, he clicked on his friend’s message and promptly snorted. Why the hell else would he randomly mention spam...but had it really been a year? Fuck. He really needed to go to the grocery store. Tonight. He would go tonight.

Shoving his phone in the front pocket of his black jeans, he tugged on his beanie once more before grabbing his keys off the nightstand, slipping on his Air Jordan’s and out the door. Namjoon had been requesting his help with some tracks for a project he had been working on. It was something he only did in his spare time between his own gig at the radio station, his own composing and from time to time a show. It was becoming less and less frequent that he actually did shows at clubs but every now and then or when he had some good new material he’d make an appearance.

Namjoon and him had a few places in their old stomping ground that let them do a set almost whenever they wanted. It was a good time and helped to keep his skills sharp. There would never be anything remotely similar to the feeling on standing on stage, bright lights on you obscuring your view, the heat of the crowd wafting over you tinged with the electricity of their energy from their screams. Nothing could compare, a type of high that was certainly better than any drug he had ever tried back in the day. However, work was work and as much passion as he had for the stage he had in music in general. The way he was living now was good. He was able to do what he loved and still make a comfortable living. No, he wasn’t in some million dollar skyrise but when he often lived in his studio more than his own apartment, that was very unnecessary.

Striding through their studio door, Yoongi kicked the door behind him with his foot and handed over one of the coffees occupying his two hands.

“Did you kill me with that spam?” he grumbled to the man that was hunched over the desk scribbling in his notebook. The laptop was open next to the man but he was still putting pen to paper. Waving the coffee in his friends face, the younger looked up and took the coffee with a nod of thanks.

“So, you did eat it. Nah, you'll be fine. That stuff like never goes bad.”

Yoongi eyed him quietly for a moment as he parked himself on the other chair that was to the left of Namjoon. Crossing his right leg over his left he hummed.

“We know who is responsible if I do.”

Namjoon chuckled before taking a sip of his hot coffee and then leaning his elbow on the desk.

“I’m just surprised you actually cooked for yourself this early in the morning.”

Averting his gaze, Yoongi became interested in the lyrics that Namjoon had just been scribbling so furiously. He grunted in reply but that unfortunately wasn’t enough to fool the younger. They had been friends for much too long for either one of the two men to not know when they were hiding something or not revealing all the details. Sitting up straighter in his chair, Namjoon turned towards his hyung and pinned him with a knowing gaze.

“You cooked for someone?”

He asked the question with rising interest and extra emphasis on the word, someone. Yoongi wished there was a way to escape this, which may have been why he was pulling down on his beanie even more. As if it would be able to hide his entire being and end this conversation. He muttered a no, lips brushing against the straw of his Americano. More coffee he didn’t need but felt that he needed to exist.

“Wait… someone cooked you breakfast? Who?” A large hand clapped Yoongi on the back and sent him rocking forward but not enough to launch him from his seat.

“Min Yoongi finally got some. It’s been how many years now. So, who is she? He?”

Hacking up a lung, Yoongi tried to prevent himself from dying. The mention of his non-existent sex life had sent the bitter liquid down the wrong pipe. He really didn’t need a reminder as to how boring his life is or more like he didn’t want to have this discussion with Joon again. For some reason the younger is always worrying about him and being “all pent up” to which Yoongi would always grimace at. He was fine. He didn’t need to fuck around all the time to remain a human being. Though he couldn’t deny that on some days perhaps if he had he wouldn’t be quite as much as a grump as was.

Waving his hand as indication that Namjoon was wrong, the blonde's eyes squeezed shut as he felt the burn in the back of his throat, coughing a few more times before regaining himself once again.

“No? You didn’t get some? Then what the fuck are you cooking that old as fuck spam for?”

Oddly enough, this comment and Namjoon’s incredulous face just made him laugh. His deep yet soft chuckle filled the space between them. He picked up the notebook that Namjoon was writing in and tapped the page.

“Can’t we just work on this. It’s nothing important.” His words were tinged with just the slightest whine but even that didn’t stop Namjoon. Instead it earned him a lack of response. Tossing the notebook back down he turned to look at his best friend. Well, shit.. He had that look, the one that said I’m not doing anything until we talk about this.

“Maybe I should have added some Bailey’s into this.” Yoongi grumbled to himself, luckily for him Namjoon couldn’t hear because he would have gotten a smack for that. The gaze intensified before the younger sat back in his seat and let out a sigh.

“Jungkook-ah made it. It’s all I had in the house, you know I haven’t been home for days.”

Yoongi rambled more than necessary but he couldn’t help it. He was nervous. The last time they had a conversation about Jeon Jungkook. Well, it hadn’t ended well. Not at all. They didn’t speak for three days which is a record because they generally hear from the other at least once a day. He silently cursed himself for letting the fondness slip out in his voice when he spoke the younger's name.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

Yoongi nodded.

“Our Jeon Jungkook?”

Not daring to look into Namjoon’s eyes, he stared at the words on the page that were just blurring together.

“Mm…”

If crickets were active at 9:30 in the morning then you would be able to hear them in the studio right now. It was dead silent and the longer it stretched the more that Yoongi itched to move. Now he wished in his morning stumble that he hadn’t text the other about the spam. He could feel those deep brown eyes of Namjoon’s peering at him. It was unnerving because he knew that the younger was trying to reign in his emotions. For the most part Namjoon was a very calm soul but, there was always something that pushed another. In this case, Jungkook was his button. Don’t get him wrong, Namjoon also adored Jungkook like a younger brother but said younger brother wasn’t supposed to play with his best friends feelings like a dog toy. Or something like that Namjoon had said to Yoongi before.

“Why was he at your place? I thought you didn’t see him anymore, nor talk to him.”

If anyone were to barge into the studio they would think that the two men were having a lover's spat. It certainly sounded like it, the barely restrained anger in Namjoon’s voice and Yoongi shrinking back at it. He finally looked up and met his best friend’s angry yet worried gaze.

“He was crying Joon-ah. Not once but twice. How could I- I couldn’t turn him away. It’s over though, he left this morning and that’s that.” The blonde felt like he was pleading with his best friend and in a way he kind of was. Pleading with him to calm down and not jump to the conclusions that he could feel the other wanting to jump to but was clinging so hard not to.

The other man took in three calming deep breaths before saying anything more to the one person he cared about more than anyone besides his mother. He placed a hand on Yoongi’s knee and the anger was receding but the worry became ever more present.

“Hyung, you can’t do this again-”

“Do what? I haven’t done anything, Joon!” He didn’t want nor need a lecture right now. Yoongi knew that the younger cared but this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to travel down again. They had been there three years ago, it was shitty then and even worse now.

“Hyung, you know this is how it starts. It’s how it always starts. He runs to you whenever life hits a speed bump, you patch him up and then he ignores your feelings all over again. Don’t put yourself through it again.”

Knocking Namjoon’s hand off his knee, emotion broils in his gut and now he’s the one to needs to find a way to keep his cool. His best friend meant well, he knew that he did but he’s skipping so far ahead in a timeline that’s not even close to that. It’s been three years and Yoongi’s done everything to cut Jungkook out and move on with his life, doesn’t that count for something? Shouldn’t that build some trust that he’s not going to fall into the same trap as before.

“It’s been three years, three fucking years. I’ve cut him out, I didn’t seek him out. Why are you acting like I’m some pathetic groupie that can’t get over a one night stand with their idol?! Do you really have so little faith in me? Shit.” Pushing his chair forcefully out from him, Yoongi stood up and strode across the room so he didn’t have to look at his friend as he pulled off his beanie and threw it onto the couch.

“You’re right, it’s been three years Yoongs and you haven’t so much as had a single relationship that lasted more than a few weeks and don’t you dare lie to me about the reason as to why those ended.”

Namjoon turned his chair around to face his hyung’s back. Neither said anything. Yoongi couldn’t. He knew very well the reason his relationships had failed. He’d never been fully invested in the first place. It was a means to get a certain someone off his back. Those had worked sort of but now it was just being thrown in his face.

A loud sigh sounded from the man sitting down,

“Look, I do have faith in you hyung but he has some type of pull over you that nothing can break. I don’t think i can pick up your pieces again. I don’t think you can either. Please… be careful. That’s all I’m saying.”

Yoongi ran a hand through his blonde locks, taking one breath at a time and finding a way to calm himself once more. Namjoon and him rarely fought but they always fought about Jungkook. What the younger had said wasn’t wrong. He would always give his all to Jungkook, they were close and in ways they seemed like a couple. It was easy to blur the lines and hope for more but it was never anything more. Yoongi was the only one who got hurt, always just him. It honestly was the way he preferred it but that still didn’t make it sting any less.

“I care about you, hyung.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I care about you too. Let just work on those lyrics you got, huh?” He turned around and found his chair again. Pulling it up closer to the desk and picking up his Americano that he had left on the desk in the midst of his rage earlier.

“Alright, I think it’s pretty good but this hook is is lacking something.”

A long finger pointed to the section he was talking about and Yoongi nodded before reading over it for the third time that morning.

“You don’t have his number right?”

“Joon.” Yoongi’s fingers tapped the same spot on the page in warning.

“Alright, alright. I never asked. What do you think?”

The next four hours were spent uninterrupted in the studio and Yoongi would be there for even longer.

Pressing his key into the slot of the lock on his paint peeing green apartment door, Jungkook bit into his bottom lip. The entire way home he couldn’t help but wonder if he had made the right choice. It was honestly too late to be worrying about what was already done. Seeing his hyung again had been a rollercoaster of emotions. However, he welcomed those emotions in comparison to the ones that his ex had left him with.

A part of him would always be happy to see Yoongi. They were such close friends and he never wanted that friendship to end in the first place. It was his fault though, he knew that, understood that. It had taken him much too long to realize that older man didn’t think of him as just as friend. Or didn’t want to anymore. That he had been silently waiting, hoping for things to progress and in some ways they did progress. The two certainly had moments that their friendship bordered going into a new direction. Even still they were so innocent that they could be overlooked and that was exactly what Jungkook had done. Overlooked Yoongi and his feelings.

One could say that, Yoongi had never properly confessed but that would just be another excuse to make himself feel better. There had been plenty of signs, there had been plenty of people telling him as well that his hyung liked him as more than just a friend and maybe it wasn’t ideal but Yoongi had made himself very clear that one night that everything unraveled for them.

“I can’t do this anymore Jungkook-ah.” The words came out in a shuddering breath, so quiet that the Jungkook could almost wonder if he was just imagining the words.

“Do what?”

His stomach rolled over, an odd type of fear and nerves twisted inside of him and hung there like a brick. The way his hyung wasn’t looking at him, the way he spoke those words scared him.

“This! Us! Friendship!” The explosion of words caught the younger off guard as the explosion of words contrasted so much from the quiet words that were spoken just a moment ago. The second that Yoongi raised his eyes to Jungkook’s it was like the dam had broke and all of his emotions flooded out. The amount that those obsidian eyes could hold felt limitless and Jungkook would be lying if he said he didn’t take a step back because they scared him.

“Hyung?”

His words stuck to his throat, he couldn’t finish them let alone form them. What exactly was he going to say? Jungkook didn’t know, he couldn’t think full sentences. All he could do was stare at the eyes that were practically crying out to him to understand, to notice, to finally notice just what the other was doing to his hyung.

“I can’t watch you be with another person who treats you like crap and have you run to me. I can’t help you. I-I can’t watch the way your eyes light up for another… I can’t continue this in between t-thing. Whatever the fuck that is?! I c-can’t just be your rock anymore.”

The words were cryptic but as clear as ice. Jungkook knew what his hyung was saying, it was obvious. So painfully obvious. The way Yoongi was staring at him, like he was the source of his pain but that he would also take that pain tenfold spoke volumes. It was what the other had been doing all along. Reaching out, he went to take his hyung’s hand only to have it snatched away.

“D-don’t touch me. Don’t pretend that you don’t know what that means for me.”

Jungkook stared down at his hand and then the one that Yoongi yanked away as if he was some demon. It would have hurt if Jungkook didn’t feel so numb. So much information was being shoved at him from all different facets and it was too much. He loved his hyung, but he had never seen him in any other light than friendship. Everything his friends had said were right. And to think he had just laughed it off. Laughed about how Yoongi and him could never be in a relationship right in front of him, that it was the funniest thing he had heard. Jungkook had been cruel.

“I care about you hyung.”

“I know you do Jungkook-ah… but not like that right? Never like that.”

The sadness that was reverberating off of Yoongi, wasn’t something that Jungkook could ignore this time. It held him in it’s grips and kept him frozen. He couldn’t utter a single word. All he could do is stare at his hyung who was bleeding in front of him and wish that he had the answers. Pretend that he didn’t see how those eyes threatened to water, something the elder had only allowed him to see but not anymore.

Jungkook took a step forward and Yoongi a step back. Then another step back and another. Finally, the silence that stretched between them, building a wall that Jungkook couldn’t break down let alone stop it from building.

“It’s okay. I didn’t expect you to anyway. I meant what I said though. I can’t do this anymore.”

Yoongi wouldn’t look at him, Jungkook wanted him to but the reason why was selfish. He knew that if Yoongi would just raise his eyes, that he’d take those words back. That they could fix this and go back to how things were. He willed the elder to but Yoongi didn’t. Instead he turned away.

“I wish you happiness, it’s all I’ve ever truly wanted for you. Sorry, Jungkook-ah.”

The click of the door was the last thing that Jungkook heard and what snapped him back to the present .

“Finally!”

The loud baritone voice made Jungkook jump and he quickly wiped at his eye in hopes of removing any evidence of the rocky emotional state he was in. Turning towards the right, his apartment was small. As soon as you walked in the door you had the kitchen to the left, living room to the right, further ahead was a very small dining room right next to the kitchen and if you walked through the living room to the right there was a hallway with two bedrooms and one bathroom.The nice thing was he had a balcony. His place to escape from life and enter his own little world. His best friend was promptly on his couch, arm hanging along the back of it with him looking up at Jungkook. The flickering of images from the TV could be seen but the volume had been muted as soon as the owner walked through the door.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have given you a set of keys.”

Taehyung scoffed as he waved the younger over. Jungkook rubbed his jaw before tossing his keys and wallet onto the small table at the entranceway, trudging over sullenly. He wasn’t looking forward to this chat but maybe he should have replied to the other earlier and then he wouldn’t have to.

“Where’d you go last night? Not h-” Immediately Jungkook interjected with a firm,

“No.”

Widening his eyes slightly, the raven haired man patted the empty space on the couch next to him. Jungkook sunk right into the cushion and let out a long sigh.

“O-kay, so not there… then where? You don’t really do one night stands even though I’ve told you over and over you should get your rocks off some. It’s a great way, no strings and they leave immediately after or morning of if you like to snuggle. You’re totally a snuggler. I mean any time we sleep together it’s like trying to get out of a choke hold-”

“Tae... “ Jungkook raised his hand in motion to stop his friend from continuing his ramblings. The man always got distracted so easily.

“Why do you think I got laid anyway? It’s been a few days.”

“Right, it’s been a few days so you might need-” A hand covered Taehyung’s mouth and Jungkook looked at his friend incredulous, where did he get this type of sexual appetite from and why was he projecting it onto him? Sometimes he really couldn’t handle Taehyung.

“Since the break… break up. Is your mind always in the gutter?” He removed his hand and was shaking his head in disbelief. Looking a little sheepish, Taehyung shrugged his shoulders.

“I know what works for me but really Kookie. I know you needed some time alone but I’m worried about you.”

“I know, Tae. I know. I didn’t mean to worry you. I just didn’t want to talk and I know you’re still curious so no I really didn’t go home with anyone last night.” He paused as the words that just left his mouth played again in his mind, that wasn’t quite true.

“I mean I went home with someone but nothing happened.”

Taehyung began twirling a strand of his hair around his finger as he stared mouth agape at his friend. Trying to decipher what that just meant. Jungkook stretched out his legs and threw his head back on the couch. Another conversation he wasn’t sure he wanted to start with his best friend but he didn’t really have much of a choice.

“Who the hell would take you home but not fuck you, except me and your mom?”

Jungkook grimaced at the mention of his mother in the same sentence of him being fucked. Sometimes the other really didn’t think about his words before saying them.

“Ew. Please for the love of god and everything holy do not ever include my mom in the same sentence of me fucking. Ew, ew, ew.”

Pressing his cheek into the couch, Jungkook opened an eye and stared at his friend who looked genuinely regretful over those words.

“It sounded better in my head.”

“Everything does.” He grumbled only to receive Taehyung’s fingers on his left nipple through his shirt, twisting it. Jungkook smacked his hand hard.

“Fuck Tae, that hurt!”

“Good.” The giggles that came from Taehyung were unfortunately infectious and a second later Jungkook was laughing too. The elder certainly was one of the most unique people that Jungkook knew but he was also one of the most caring. He was really lucky to have the man in his life.

“Really, though who would take you home and not fuck you… unless it’s Yoongi hyung… Hmm…” Taehyung was doing what he did best, speaking his thoughts aloud, not really expecting an answer. Except, Jungkook became very quiet. So quiet that he was trying to silence his breathing without actually not breathing. It took a moment but Taehyung raised his eyes up to the younger and tilted his head to the side as he peered curiously at Jungkook.

“Kookie… what aren’t you telling me? Fuck! It was really Yoongi hyung? Shit?! How is he? Was he wearing that leather jacket he always used to wear? Man, he was hot in that leather jacke-”

“Hyung!”

A large hand waved in front of the elders face, to hopefully bring his back down to earth. It caught his attention enough to stop rambling and really look at his friend again.

“Yeah, it was Yoongi hyung and he’s fine I guess?” It came out as a question because neither of them really talked much about how they were presently. And… well, obviously Jungkook wasn’t doing so hot at the moment.

“He looked good, lost some weight I think. No leather jacket. He’s blonde. Like really blonde, almost platinum. It suits him oddly. A lot, it suits him a lot.” As he brought to mind the image of Yoongi he had been with not too long ago, his eyes looked dreamlike and Taehyung smiled as he gazed at his best friend. Placing a hand on the younger’s through brought his attention back to the present and the person in front of him.

“You missed him, huh?”

Jungkook quietly contemplated the question. Rolling around the words missed him on his tongue. The couch dipped as he repositioned himself, moving Taehyung’s hand and laying his head in his hyung’s lap.

“Mm…”

It was the most of an answer that Taehyung was going to get and for once he didn’t pry. His hand instantly went to the younger's head as he threaded his fingers through the golden brown locks. It was quiet for a few moments, Taehyung let his friend get lost in his thoughts and he traveled down his own.The two men could lie like that for hours, Taehyung had a habit where he had to be touching someone at all times just about if they were close enough friends. He specifically loved playing with another's hair. It had gotten him in trouble when he was in grade school not noticing that he kept playing with the girl’s hair that sat in front of him every day.

“You came back pretty early, was it too awkward?”

Jungkook’s eyes had long closed, as the tendrils of peace relaxed every muscle of his body from his head down to the tips of his toes. He loved having someone run their fingers through his hair. Maybe it stemmed from his childhood, where his mother would do so from time to time, especially when he couldn’t fall asleep. Jungkook wasn’t really sure but it relaxed him in a way that nothing else could quite match.

“Kind of? I mean at first but-”

“You were thinking too much again.”

The brunettes chest shook with mild laughter, his best friend knew him too well. He nodded in reply and began biting his bottom lip. A nervous tick he could never seem to break. Taehyung’s large hand stopped playing with Jungkook’s hair and cupped his face, thumb caressing his cheek.

“I felt...feel. I feel bad you know. I was completely selfish, again, last night. I shouldn’t have gone there.” He inhaled a shaky breath before continuing. Trying to push down all the feelings of guilt that were rushing over him once more. The man hummed to let the other know that he was listening and it was okay to continue when he was ready.

“But Tae, he just welcomed me in. No questions… heh, well there were questions but you know how hyung is. He didn’t pry.”

The raven haired man nodded his head but realized the other couldn’t see his acknowledgement. Continuing to caress the other's cheek he leaned down and pressed his lips to Jungkook’s forehead.

“Kookie, it’s okay to feel happy about that. It’s okay that you went over there.”

“It’s not okay, hyung. I shouldn’t have gone.” The firmness in Jungkook’s voice was as solid as an aged oak tree whose roots sink deep into the earth for miles and miles. It made Taehyung sigh. The man was so stubborn.

“Kookie, you can’t beat yourself up forever for what happened.”

“Yes-”

“Yes, you fucked up. You fucked up royally Jungkook and I’m still baffled as to how you didn’t realize his feelings for you. Especially, when you two went around being boyfriends.”

“We didn’t go around like that.” Jungkook’s words cut in so fast that Taehyung gave him a judging glare and the younger returned that glare with one of his own.

“Well, you could have fucking fooled me and every poor soul that walked by.”

Jungkook turned over on his side, arms crossed over his chest as he huffed. This might have been one of the reasons why he had never noticed anything. Everything was so comfortable with Yoongi that it just felt like the norm. They always seemed to fall in line with the other but they had known each other for many years, it would be strange if they didn’t… Right?

Sometimes Jungkook wasn’t so sure about that. Now wasn’t one of those times.

“Bunny, “

“Don’t call me that.” He swatted Taehyung’s hand away from his head. The elder ignored it and went back to twirling some of his hair around his long finger.

“Bunny, stop pouting. Admitting it doesn’t make you any less of a person, you know. In fact it makes you more of a person. We all know, even Yoongi hyung knows that you didn’t do it on purpose and neither did he. Just, stop feeling guilty. It’s been three years, you felt like shit, you apologized. It’s time to let it go.”

Only silence from the person lying in Taehyung’s lap. It didn’t bother the elder, he knew that Jungkook needed some time to marinade over those words. And he would. He would think about it for the rest of the day and the next as well.

“He let you in, that’s a good thing. Who knows, maybe this break up with Hoseok could mend your friendship.”

“Ugh, do you have to mention that dick’s name?”

Taehyung’s baritone voice broke out in a soft rumble which earned him a smack to the thigh from a very petulant Jungkook.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just amusing to hear you refer to him like that when just the other week it was these sickeningly sweet honey bun eyes.”

Honey bun eyes? Where did his friend even come up with these comparisons. What did that even mean? Well, Jungkook could figure out what his hyung meant but any one else would be confused. He rolled his eyes at that description.

“How are you holding up, hmm?”

He sighed.

“I’m here aren’t I?”

Taehyung frowned. That wasn’t the answer he wanted. He knew that it really had only been a few days since the breakup occurred but he still wanted his friend to bounce back as soon as possible.

“He never even told me he loved me but he said it to whoever that was.”

Taehyung let out a string of profanities mixed in with words that Jungkook wasn’t really sure who or what had come up with. The grip on his hair was growing more and more taut.

“Ah, ah, shit hyung that hurts!”

Taehyung looked down and saw that in his anger of the man who had hurt his best friend he had unintentionally been about to pull Jungkook’s hair out of his skull. He let go immediately and kissed the spot a few times.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry. I just want to beat the shit out of Jung Hoseok. What a fucking asshole.”

“Yeah, hyung I know....”

And he did know. Jungkook knew all too well but that didn’t change how he felt about the man. He couldn’t just stop caring like the flick of a light switch. Man, did he wish he could. It would make everything easier. Instead he his wounds continued to bleed and sometimes he licked them clean other times he opened them further. His phone was still littered with remnants of their relationship. The five million selcas the man always made him take, the cute videos he’d send Jungkook in the morning to wake up to. The sweet words he’d say at night before they went to bed, if they didn’t talk all night on the phone. He hadn’t found the will to delete them yet. To let go.

He whispered, “I-I still wait for him to come back and say those words to me hyung.”

It’s stupid. He knows. He knows that it’s over. That it had apparently been over and he was the only person to not know. He knows that he’s only hurting himself more by clinging onto this impossible hope but Hoseok had made him happy. It’s just too hard to toss all those memories in the trash like yesterday news. Even if Hoseok had already done as such to him.

A warm hand gripped his arm and rubbed it gently.

“Have you heard from him?”

A small nod, could be felt against Taehyung’s thigh. Wetness was staining the elder’s jeans, one drop at a time but neither said anything about it.

“Once.”

Jungkook hadn’t been ready to tell Taehyung about this which was why he had been ignoring his hyung’s messages for the last few days. Sliding his hand into his pants pocket, Jungkook fished out his phone and then held it up for Taehyung to take. Once he did, Jungkook brought his hand in towards his chest, silently wiping away his tears with his index finger.

Taehyung unlocked the others phone, they knew each other's passcodes and even if they didn’t it generally only took a few tries before the boys were able to figure out what it had been changed to. Opening up his messages, the raven haired man found Hoseok’s and opened it to reveal a single message the same night that Jungkook found out he had been cheated on.

Hoseok 12:43am: Jungkook-ah, I know that there isn’t anything I can say to excuse what happened or what I did but I want to apologize for letting you find out in such a way. I won’t ask for forgiveness but know that I wish for your happiness. I’m sorry that it can’t be with me.

There was no reply, which Taehyung was glad his dongsaeng didn’t reply. There honestly wasn’t much you could say to such a message. It was a very clear cut, we’re over and there’s no need for us to keep in contact anymore. It was honest but still shitty. Feeling a squeeze to his arm, Jungkook took comfort in his hyung.

“Come up here, Kookie.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice, Jungkook placed a hand on the edge of the couch and pushed himself up and then let Taehyung stretch out so that he could lay with him. Laying his head down on his hyung’s chest, Taehyung’s arm wrapped around him immediately.

“He’s an asshole. Cry today but don’t waste your tears on him after today. You deserve so much better.”

The brunettes nodded, his hair swaying to the left and then the right and Taehyung brushed his hair out of his eyes. He pressed his lips to the top of Jungkook’s head for the second that morning and he would for as many times as the younger needed. Smoothing those silky locks down over and over, Taehyung felt every shake of the younger's shoulders as he cried. Letting out all of the emotions he just couldn’t seem to shake. Letting go of the memories he had built with a man he had fallen for. Letting go of every sweet nothing, touch, kiss. Everything that was Jung Hoseok and what he meant to Jungkook in his heart of hearts.

This wouldn’t fix everything but it was the start that he needed to move on. Holding on was fruitless and showing that message to Taehyung had been the way of putting the final nail in the coffin that was his relationship and hope. The two stayed on the couch, Jungkook wrapped in his hyung’s embrace for a few hours. Eventually the tears dried up and just the comfort of having someone that cared for him filled in the gap.

“You really slept with Yoongi and nothing happened? Should’ve tapped that.”

Jungkook wouldn’t deny nor confirm that the indentations in Taehyung’s sun kissed skin that looked suspiciously like teeth were his.

OSFTSB Chapters

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rexhc · 7 years

Text

only fools rush in

dash and roman (ft. gwen for one part), hopeless pining

(may 2017, end of junior year)

She holds your hand sometimes when there’s no one around. Neither of you mention it. Chills run down your spine and the hair on your arms sticks up when she touches you, her cold skin tingling against your own like static electricity, but the two of you are friends now - or at least something like friends. Something in the same general category of friends, but somehow completely and totally different. You’re not exactly sure if there’s a word for it.

Or maybe you’re wrong. Maybe it’s normal for friends to hold hands on occasion. Maybe it’s normal for friends to look at each other like this. Yeah, that old familiar feeling in your stomach returns every time she looks in your direction, but you already told her your feelings for her a long time ago. She didn’t feel the same, and you remind yourself of her answer every time you sit next to her on her bed and she lets her knees bump into yours. (You’ve probably seen The Dark Knight twelve times by now, but you still can’t remember most of the plot. She’s too distracting.)

Maybe she’s your best friend, and you think that if that is the case, you’re incredibly fucked up for thinking about how soft her lips look all the time.

It’s almost pathetic, really, that after the past year of what you’d thought had been growth and change, here you are again lying in your bed at two A.M. thinking about Roman Caldwell. A year of emotional hell, between whatever you’d been trying to force with Gracie and whatever you tried to deny with Jack, and you’re right back at the start - obsessing over a girl who doesn’t feel slightly the same.

Gwen gives you advice between bites of an apple. “Just ask her out.” She crunches loudly on purpose and you cringe. “The worst that can happen is she says no.”

“Yeah, and I completely ruin our friendship. Again.”

Gwen shrugs, continuing to eat her fruit.

“I don’t see why you can’t just tell me if she’s interested. You guys are best friends. You do…boy talk.” Gwen glares at you. When you were kids that glare would scare the crap out of you, and you'd be lying if it still wasn't a little frightening. “Probably. I assume.”

“Yes, Roman and I are known for constantly gabbing about boys.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I remain my status as Switzerland. That’s what I signed up for when I became friends with both of you.”

“We’ve been friends longer.”

“Switzerland.”

“Almost ten years now, you know.”

“Again, Switzerland.”

“Well, Switzerland being neutral actually helped the Nazis.”

Gwen blinks, processing your statement. “You need to pay more attention in history. Is Roman the Nazi in this analogy?”

“Nevermind the analogy. It was a bad analogy. The point is you should help me.”

“I’m giving the maximum amount of help I can give. Just ask her out.”

“Whatever, I have to go to weapons. If I can’t get to Homer in time, Daniels will probably impale me on something.” You look down at your still-uneaten sandwich and start to wrap it back up; you’ll probably just give it Nikos later. You get one last word in to Gwen before you go to class. “You’re the worst.”

“So I’ve been told.”

You head to your dorm right after your elemental lessons, just itching to get your stupid tie off and put on some comfortable clothes. You thank your past self for finishing all your homework before Mana, because all you really want to do for the rest of the day is chill out and work on your Animal Crossing town. And not think about a certain person.

You know your afternoon plans are completely ruined once you turn the last corner of the hallway, because Roman Caldwell herself sits against your doorway.

“Hey.” Your voice cracks slightly on the end of the word.

“Hi,” she responds, or at least that’s what you think she says. You’re distracted by the shiver that runs down your spine when you hold her hands to help her up. You can only imagine how gross and sweaty your hands are.

“Uh, Nikos is at my dorm. So I figured I’d just…come here. You don’t have baseball today, right?”

Your head feels a little light (a recurring symptom whenever she’s around), but somehow you manage to answer her question. “No, not today.” There’s a brief moment of awkwardness before you realize you haven’t unlocked the door and the two of you are just standing silently in the hallway. Once it does hit you, you scramble and hold it open for her. When she walks past you, she smells like crisp frost, like the still air in the winter, and slightly of peppermint.

Roman goes straight to your bed and sits on the edge. “Do you have any homework to do? If you do, I can just read or something.”

You shake your head with maybe a bit too much enthusiasm, so you try to play it cool. “Uh, no. No homework. We can hang out.”

“Cool,” she responds as she lays back against your pillows. You catch yourself smiling at the way her bangs shift off her forehead and how the light from the window makes her whole face light up. You sit down in your desk chair, swiveling around to face her. Roman watches you watch her, her grey eyes locking into your own. You’d look away, but looking away from her has always been a real challenge. You hadn’t figured out how when you were thirteen, and you still don’t know how now. The tips of your fingertips buzz against your knees.

Maybe she does like you, that annoying voice in your head teases you. Maybe her feelings have changed - that can happen, right? And it’s been three weeks since she and Justin broke up, and there’s no way that you had anything to do with that, but maybe, just maybe…

“Is that your camera?”

“What?” It takes a second for you to get out of the spinning circles of your head, and you see her pointing to your left. “Oh, yeah. That’s mine.”

“You never said you liked photography.”

You rub the back of your neck. “I don’t know if I’d call it photography. It’s mostly just pictures of like…friends. And clouds and random stuff.” You’re not sure what possesses you to say the next part. “Do you wanna see some of it?”

Roman nods, shifting her legs to sit criss-cross on your bed. You sit next to her and reach under the bed, pulling out a leather book. After you open the cover, she shifts closer to you, her arm against yours. Her skin is cold but electric.

Her eyes run over the pages, taking in each photograph. She laughs at the picture of Nikos, perched on the top of a fence. Her eyes soften at a photo of Gwen you took at your dad’s house. Roman looks at all the photographs, but you just look at her.

“These are really good, Dash. Is that Amelia?” Her finger lands on a photo of an aged golden retriever.

“Yeah, you remembered her name.”

“Of course,” she replies shyly. She looks away from you and you’re almost sure that she saw the obvious longing in your face and is getting ready to run for the hills. Or - well, it’s Nebraska. So, the plains, you guess. You have a crazy idea, and even crazier, you act on it.

“Can I take your picture?”

“My picture? Why?” Roman looks shyer than you’ve ever seen her. She tucks her chin in slightly, holding her knees against her chest. She looks small and beautiful. You can’t help but question the absurdity of her question. Why would you want to take her picture? Has she ever even looked in the mirror?

“Roman, you’re…um.” Shit, you had to catch yourself there. “We could take one together.” She seems to warm up more to that idea, so you shift next to her. Hesitantly, you snake your arm behind her back. By some miracle she leans into you. It’s a known fact that her body is constantly cold, but in this moment you feel like your own body is engulfed in flames. You hold the camera in front of the both of you and hold down the trigger. The camera spits out a white rectangle, which you hand to Roman.

“You can keep it. It’ll develop in like ten minutes.”

She holds the undeveloped photo in her hand and stares at it closely, inspecting the current nothingness. Then, she surprises you with a question. “What are you doing this summer?”

“Nothing. Baseball workshops. Probably get another waiting gig.”

“No more paper route?”

You smile at the remembered detail. “Nah, I think I deserve to sleep past four A.M. this summer.”

“Probably a good thing. Print is a dying industry.”

God, you love her sense of humor.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Anyways, um,” she turns back into shy Roman again. “If you have time, you should…visit.”

“Visit you? Like in New York?”

“Yeah, I…well, my family could get you a ticket. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. Forget I asked.”

The stupid heart in your chest refuses to slow down however much you wish it to. “No! I want to!” Very smooth, Knight. “I mean, that sounds great. And, um, if you’re in Colorado, you know.”

Roman nods, sucking the piercing on her bottom lip between her teeth. “We can figure out dates- um, when you can come, I mean come to New York.” Her face gets pinker with each passing word and it’s probably the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. Above dogs, even (Sorry, Amelia.) “We can figure all that out later.”

You keep going through the photo album, and after a series of goofy backstories crucial to the understanding of a few photos, you notice the film to her side has popped up some new colors.

“Hey, Rome, the photo developed.” She picks the photo up and holds it between the two of you. You can’t help but think how well you fit together, even in the photo. And as annoying that insistent glimmer of hope is inside of you, you don’t try that hard to stop listening to it.

“Dash?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad we’re friends again.”

“Me, too.”

Neither of you acknowledge your overlapping hands closing the distance between you.

#dash knight #roman caldwell #gwen north #romash

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preserving-ferretbrain · 5 years

Text

A Successful Audition for the Darwin Award

by Raymond H

Tuesday, 05 June 2018

Or, why Shigeharu Aoyama is the stupidest horror movie protagonist Raymond has ever seen~

Today's song

comes from a much better movie than the one I will be discussing. You should watch

instead.

~~~

Let me tell you a tale. It all started in the summer of ’17. That was the summer I was on a horror movie binge, when I watched such greats as The Shining and Rosemary’s Babyfor the first time. And then one day, purely by accident, I stumbled across a little horror movie called Audition. Hey, this looks neat, I thought. It was by a famous Japanese director whose filmography I’d barely viewed, it was going for cheap at the local rental place, and my parents seemed enthusiastic about it. Why not? So Friday night, with freshly-made popcorn and bright-eyed enthusiasm, my parents and I sat down to see what Audition had to offer.

What followed was the worst family movie night experience since The Lobster[1].

First off, I should admit the role of some bias on my part. You see, Audition, whilst ostensibly horror, happens to be my absolute least favorite type of horror: the gross-out gorefest. It is my firmly-held belief that the best kind of horror elicits dread, a suspenseful buzz that quickens the pulse and heightens the heartrate, a steady flow of unease, if you will. To break that buzz with jump scares and shocking imagery is bad enough, but to completely transform it into disgust and nausea utterly defeats the point and demeans the genre, in my humble opinion.

My own snooty genre proclivities aside though, there is another, far deeper problem with Audition, that being its protagonist. You see, he is an idiot. Now, you gotta understand, I’m not talking about your average, run-of-the-mill moron. No no, I mean he’s a grade-a, stone-cold, dyed-in-the-wool dingbat. He’s a nitwit, a ninny, a schnook, a schlemiel. Why he’s the stupidest horror protagonist I ever done seen, and I’ve seen a fair few in my day.

Now come on Raymond, you sigh. You’re not being very sporting here, are you? You say this man is an idiot, and yet you’ve given no evidence to back this up. And besides, horror protagonists get accused of being stupid all the time. What makes your criticism any different from those butthurt dudebros complaining about those waily slasher protagonists, apart from the blonde hair and pom-poms?

To this I say, good, fine, a well and valid point. But remember, the entire premise of those slasher films is that a group of young, hormonally addled teenagers are systematically hunted down and murdered one by one, oftentimes within a secluded and isolated environment. Given such circumstances, I can at least suspend my disbelief enough to buy a high-school cheerleader acting somewhat irrational once she realizes she’s next on the kill list. What I can’t accept is this baka acting just as irrational and clueless, if not MORE so, than said cheerleader even BEFORE anything weird or horrifying happens.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself. I should probably explain the plot first. Okay, so there’s this guy, Aoyama. He’s a middle-aged widower and single father, who keeps getting pestered by friends and family to get back in the dating game. He’s reluctant at first, but then one day a friend of his, who just so happens to be a television producer, comes over to him and says “Hey! Guess what? We are currently holding auditions for the new leading lady in our latest teledrama, and I want you to show up. See, in these kinds of things, we go through hundreds of applicants, many of whom are quite nice and very attractive. And I figure, hey, only one woman can get the part, but there’s no reason the other girls should go home empty-handed. Eh? Eh? Come on, surely there’s gotta be at least someone there you’ll hit it off with.”

Aoyama, in his usual fashion, responds with an “Um, uh, well, um…” This will be a recurring habit of his.

So finally, after being dragged to the audition (ah, d’you seee?)

[2]

Aoyama sets his sights on one lady in particular, Asami, a beautiful (albeit kind of creepy), young (to an ephebic degree), and soft-spoken (you can never tell what she’s thinking) ballerina (whose teacher disappeared under mysterious circumstances). Now, you or I can easily see that, despite being quite a catch, Asami is setting off a few red flags right from the get-go. And indeed, Aoyama’s buddy explicitly says “Hey man, I know she’s cute and all, but like, you might want to be careful going into all this is all I’m saying.” But Aoyama is of course having none of that and completely ignores all the other candidates.

Now, okay, I could possibly forgive that. Lord knows countless men and women have taken similarly stupid plunges in the name of getting nookie, and hey, if Aoyama didn’t go for Asami, we wouldn’t have a story, would we? Here’s the thing though. This is not the only warning sign he receives over the course of the movie. Indeed, you could reasonably say that the first 90 minutes of this film are nothing but a series of increasingly disturbing warning signs which Aoyama ignores. And not only ignores, but outright fails to even react to!

Let me break it down for you. Pretty early on, Aoyama’s buddy pulls him aside and says “Hey man, c’mere, lemme talk t’you fer a sec. Listen, I dunno how t’tell y’this, but none of the gal’s references check out. Like, none of ’em. At all. So like, I think you should maybe just, like, be careful or something. You know, just exercise a little caution, maybe wait a while before you call her next.”

Aoyama, in his usual fashion, responds with an “Um, uh, well, um…” and then immediately proceeds to call Asami.

We are then treated to

this

Now, to be fair, Aoyama doesn’t see the bag-man, so this is entirely within the realms of information given to us the audience which is not given to the protagonist. But you know what is given to him? Well for starts, there’s his son saying “Hey dad, listen I’m real happy for you and all, but I just feel like maybe you’re rushing into things a bit.”, there’s his friend (again) saying “Dude! Seriously! This girl is bad news! Abort! Abort!”, oh yeah, and there’s the GHOST OF HIS DEAD WIFE coming to him in a dream and explicitly screaming “RUN! IF YOU VALUE THE CURRENT ARRANGEMENT OF YOUR TESTICLES RUN! RUN THE FUCK AWAY FROM THIS BITCH! SHE’S CRAZY I TELL YOU! CRAAAZYYY!!!”

Now, if you or I were faced with such advice from friends and family, we might stop and think “Huh, maybe I should reconsider the current trajectory of this relationship.” If an ordinary horror protagonist was faced with it, they might stop and think “Huh, maybe I should reconsider the current trajectory of this…nah, let’s give it one more date.” However, Aoyama is no ordinary fellow, nor is he an ordinary horror protagonist. He’s the stupidest horror protagonist I ever done seen, and his reaction to all these warnings is to try tracking Asami down to her house. There are many ways to deal with a potential serial killer. Going in alone and unprotected into their headquarters without backup or even telling anyone is not one of them.

Of course, there is one slight problem with Aoyama's plan. Remember, none of Asami’s references check out, so Aoyama only has a few tenuous leads to go on in his search. Fortunately he finds answers pretty quickly. Unfortunately…ugh…

So he goes to this bar that Asami says she works at. He finds it abandoned. When he asks about, the local expositor explains “What? That bar? Oh, yeah, there was a really gruesome murder there, a while back. Yeah, there was a young woman, and a guy, and the guy slept with the mama at the bar, and then one morning the cops found the bar drenched in blood. It’s weird, they didn’t find any bodies, but they identified the blood as belonging to the guy and the mama. Oh yeah, and they found an eye and three fingers. The young woman disappeared. Man, it’s so weird, but I mean, it’s not like the young woman sounds exactly like your girlfriend or anything, hahaha! Hohoho! Peace.”

Now…if you were in that position, what would you do? Run? Forget Asami? Plunge forward for the sake of getting some? All fine and good responses. Now…now uh, now tell me…what do you think Aoyama, in his…infinite wisdom, does? Hm? HMM?

“Sigh”

Aoyama, in his usual fashion, responds with an “Um, uh, well, um…” And then…then he goes to a dance studio that Asami supposedly frequents. Only to find, oh, wow, it’s completely abandoned and boarded up. Who could have possibly seen that coming?

So anyways, Aoyama hears piano music coming from the studio, so he breaks in, and inside he finds an elderly man sitting in a wheelchair, playing the piano in the corner of a darkened dance-room. No-one else is around. The man looks like he’s been there for who knows how long. Suddenly, as Aoyama steps into the room, the man halts his playing, and glances up. Slowly he turns, and sees a frightened Aoyama, breath bated in surprise. Then, a sick, slimy grin splays across the old man’s face, and with teetering, arthritic hands, he rolls his way over to our hero.

“So…tell me,” the old man rasps, his voice cracked and hoarse with perverted delight. “Did…you taste her flesh? Mehah. Mehahahah! Mahahahahah! Did…you smell her skin? Mahahah! Mahahahah! Meheheheh…fool. You are doomed. Doomed! DOOMED! MAHAHAH! MAHAHAHAHA! MA-HAHA-HAHAAAH!”

This time Aoyama doesn’t respond. No, seriously. Where others might flee in terror or proclaim “Old man, you be tripping.”, Aoyama…does nothing. He exits the ballet studio in the exact same state of mind as when he entered. He completely, utterly, and inconceivably refuses to even acknowledge what just occurred. Great Belin man! Are you for real? Give us something, anything! Even an “Um, uh, well, um…” would be satisfactory. But no, no! Instead Aoyama’s only thoughts are “Huh. I wonder where Asami is.” Are you serious? Are you genuinely, legitimately serious at this point, Aoyama? Sweet baby Jesus man, no amount of half-your-age nookie can possibly justify this level of willful stupidity! Are you really, really going to do this?

Aoyama, in his usual fashion, responds with an “Um, uh, well, um…”

It was at this point my parents and I began exchanging bewildered glances.

Then he comes home and finds Asami’s killed his dog and OMIGOD NO! NOOO! HOW COULD YOU TAKASHI MIIKE? HOW COULD YOU? GOD FUCKING DAMMIT! I FUCKING REMEMBER WHEN THE DOG FIRST APPEARED IN THIS GODDAMN FILM AND MY HEART SKIPPED A LITTLE BEAT AND I PRAYED “Oh please Lord. Please, kill the boy, kill the housekeeper, kill the protagonist for God’s sake, but don’t, for the love of God, don’t kill the dog.” AND THE DOG IS THE ONLY ONE TO FUCKING DIE IN THE WHOLE FUCKING MOVIE AND

Oooh, you cry. Duh! Buh! Raymond!

Ssspoiiileeers

! For a movie that was released in 1999! Which is mostly known for the massive orgy of death and violence in the last 20 minutes of its runtime! Well fuck you! This is a tale, goddammit! I’ll spoil whatever the hell I like! You want a review, go read Armond fucking White!

Anyways, where was I? Ah yes, so Asami slips something into Aoyama’s drink, he trips balls for a couple minutes, during which time we are treated to the fate of that guy (you know, the one in the bag who slept with the mama), the old man, oh yeah, and we find out what the deal with Aoyama’s secretary was. For real dude, what the hell? Oh yeah, also we get to witness the most uncomfortable blowjob scene in the history of cinema! Nobody enjoyed that scene, least of all you. What else? Ah, of course, how stupid of me. Asami cuts off Aoyama’s foot in lovingly rendered, crystal clear, high definition.

It was at this point my father left the living room.

My mother and I, more out of spite than anything else at this point, figured we’d see the film through to the end, and honestly, even in my current, spoilery mindset, I can’t be bothered to give the ending away. Partly because I still have some spoiler scruples, partly because it’s so bland and predictable you can see it coming a mile away, and partly because…I just don’t want to. Suffice it to say, things turn out alright in the end. I mean, there was all that gross-out stuff, which I don’t recommend even for you gorefest aficionados, but apart from that, and, y’know, the whole foot thing, Aoyama is none the worse for wear, and is already planning to tell this latest crazy ex story at the next work outing

[3]

Normally after a family movie night, my family and I like to chat about the movie. You know, what we liked, what we didn’t like, that sort of thing. This time, my mother and I remained in silence as we took the disc out, put it back in the case, and turned the tv off. When we walked upstairs to the dining room, we found my father sipping a mug of tea, like some men would swig a flask of brandy after a harrowing day’s work.

“So,” he grunted. “Did we ever find out why she was…y’know, the way she was?”

And, strange as it may seem, it wasn’t until then that I realized, Audition isn’t actually a good movie. Seriously, my own distaste for gorefests aside, this is a bad film. I’ve seen plenty of people say this is a feminist movie, which casts a critical lens on the patriarchal society of Japan and like, smashes all these preconceptions about women and fights for their rights and I call bullshit, for three main reasons.

Number one, the only thing Aoyama is ever really punished for is getting involved with the wrong sort of woman. Not the audition itself, not the way he treated the actual nice women that he said he was looking for, not for wanting to bang an ephebic ballerina or his son’s teenage girlfriend, no, simply for getting involved with a “crazy” girl.

Number two, Asami doesn’t seem to be motivated by anything other than petty jealousy in her revenge methods. Remember, she killed the mama at the bar, whom you could reasonably say was as much a victim of the guy’s womanizing ways as Asami was. And as for the guy himself, Asami’s torture of him is expressly designed to make him totally dependent on her, not to punish him for straying, but to make herself more valuable to him so that he won’t ever want to stray. And finally, this leads to the biggest reason.

Number three, we never get any explanation for why Asami is the way she is. There is a cursory comment about how because she was abused as a child she came to believe that love and pain were inseparable and can you see how deep and philosophical this movie is but it’s an esoteric bluff. At the end of the day, it doesn’t alter our perception of her in any meaningful way. She’s still a crazy serial killer, who kills dogs and mutilates men for shits and giggles. This explanation doesn’t serve to make us empathize with her. Just the opposite, it makes her even creepier, and drives the point that she’s a villain that needs to be stopped even further home. In the end, the only explanation we really get is that same, old, tired cliché: That bitch is crazy.

In the end, there are some interesting themes and concepts in Audition, but the movie never really goes anywhere interesting or says anything meaningful with them, instead always choosing to take the easiest, goriest, most juvenile way out. Anything great in the movie is snuffed out by disinterested shrugs and handwaves, and all that’s left is sex and violence. It’s rather like going to a classical music concert, where midway through the concerto the pianist suddenly screams “FUCK EVERYTHING!”, throws a cat onto the keyboard, sets the piano on fire, guns the remaining orchestra down, cackles as the concert hall explodes, and then shoot the cat in the knee after it tries to sue

[4]

. I know the movie is based off a book, and maybe that does a better job handling the ideas the story puts forward, but honestly, with an audition like this, I don’t think I’m gonna call this story back anytime soon.

It’s funny. I’m sure there’s a moral to be learned from this tale. I just have no idea what it is. Maybe it’s don’t disrespect women. Maybe it’s bitches be crazy. But personally, I think the best moral this tale has to offer is this: Know what you’re getting into. Please, if you take nothing else from this, just remember that. Know what you are getting into.

[1]

We thought it was a romantic comedy, okay? The synopsis made it sound like a wacky romantic comedy!

[2]

Yes, yes, YES! Since day ONE I have been waiting to say that and now I've finally done it! Haha! やった！

[3]

Where he’ll probably sleep with his new secretary and toss her aside just as callously seriously what the hell dude?

[4]

Seriously, in all its 60 cat years in the industry it’s never been treated this badly, not once! 60 cat years! And that’s like, 11 human years!Themes:

TV & Movies

Horror

Minority Warrior

Romance

Crime Fiction

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Arthur B

at 10:56 on 2018-06-05See, I have a different take on

Audition

. Yes, Aoyama acts like a fool. On the other hand, he acts like precisely the sort of fool patriarchal society has set him up to be.

There's a cliche in discussing dating and the risks people face in that context of "Men are afraid of being embarrassed; women are afraid of being murdered", and there's quite a big chunk of truth to it: women are by far the targets of violence more than they are the perpetrators of it in dating contexts, and I know numerous women who feel that they have to take various safety steps when going on a date in the event that the person they're with turns out to be some form of abuser - the classic full-blown serial killer being an extreme example, but hardly an unknown one. I don't think I've ever known a man to express the same fears about meeting up with a woman.

So far as I can tell, the whole point of

Audition

is to depict a man who, for once, is actually subject to the same danger that women are routinely subjected to in dating - and because he's a privileged little patriarch, he doesn't recognise the danger at all.

That's part of how privilege works

- it insulates you from the very idea that someone might dare to harm you. (As a beneficiary of that privilege, I often find it eye-opening and startling how much others who don't get the same benefits have to be wary.)

So sure, he gets all these people suggesting that he should distance himself from Asami, but when has the disapproval of one's peers ever prompted anyone to break off a new relationship? And sure, he investigates Asami's background and finds out that

something

is up, but I think it entirely makes sense for him to decide that whatever that is, it surely can't be her fault - that if anything, she's in trouble and she needs a doughy patriarch like him to save her. The possibility that

she might be the trouble

doesn't occur to Aoyama because he doesn't conceive of young, pretty girls as being capable of being trouble. And you know how the saying goes: when you assume, you make an ass out of yourself and lose a foot.

As far as Asami's apparent lack of clear motivations go, I don't consider them a problem. The stated motivations of real life serial killers aren't especially narratively satisfactory either, in most cases. Again, so far as I can see, the whole point of Asami is that she is (on a somewhat grand guignol scale) exactly the sort of sadistic abuser that women have to be afraid of on a regular basis, but which men are rarely in danger from. Plus, giving her actions a convincing rationale would run the risk of, if not excusing them, at least making them somehow sympathetic.

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Raymond H

at 12:02 on 2018-06-05...Okay...I see what you're saying...and I half-agree, but I still don't quite see it that way, and it all boils down to that word you used "sympathetic". I think, if you are trying to point a lens at a put-upon group of people, then you need to paint that group with at least some degree of sympathy, but from my experience, the audience's sympathy seemed intended for Aoyama all the way through, even when they demonstrated some of his more reprehensible thoughts and actions. Ultimately, even if this film was intended to subtly mock viewers' patriarchal prejudices, it still set about doing it with a scaaary woman that needed to be killed. So it's kind of like reading Dracula as a subtle critique of Victorian pomposity and prejudice. Considering that Stoker was himself an Irishman, that's an entirely valid reading, but because Dracula is a blood-drinking, soulless abomination, it somewhat shoots the message in the foot. Maybe it's because of my experience reading Naomi, which seemed like it's criticizing its patriarchal protagonist, but then was actually just about how if you let women have male friends or talk back in any way it'll destroy society.

You are right, unless there's a clear power imbalance, when women are abusive to men, they go for emotional and psychological abuse, rather than physical, at least from my experience. And maybe it's because of that experience that I'm bitter and cynical, and was thus more receptive to the warning signs Asami exhibited. However, by making Asami, as you said, a female version of the sort of serial killer a woman might encounter on the dating scene, I think the filmmakers went too far, from satire to farce. I do like what you pointed out, that Aoyama's stupidity can be chalked up partially to how he never suspects Asami might be the trouble, and I know that can be a blinder. But again, I think without any sympathy, Asami's excessive psychopathy ended up hurting any potentially anti-sexism message the film had. By making her the abuser, and making Aoyama the victim, it makes it difficult to see beyond that evil woman / good man dynamic. Maybe it worked better in the book, maybe I'm too distrustful to put myself fully in Aoyama's shoes, but I don't know.

Geez, that was long-winded and messy. Sorry. Uh, I guess, in summation, I think you make several valid points, but I just can't agree %100.

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Ichneumon

at 04:33 on 2018-06-08I dunno, I think you can write and effective horror yarn around a largely unsympathetic cast. The point of horror isn't necessarily to reflect empathy with the characters themselves; rather, as Thomas Ligotti has argued, horror is about empathy with a set of shared fears and a shared understanding with the author. The shared fear here is not that of the protagonist person see, pathetic though he is, but of women within a patriarchal society which objectifies and abuses them; the empathy may in part be with the victim, made a patsy by societal expectations, but also with the author's dim view of said society.

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Raymond H

at 12:58 on 2018-06-11Okay! So, uh, I guess I ought to start with some kind of disclaimer or something. This article was simply meant as a means to laugh at a bad family movie night experience. By laughing at things, we often are able to deal with and process them better, after all. However, Arthur's initial comment struck a chord with me. Not because he disagreed with my opinion on the internet (the unforgivable sin), but because his comment

As a beneficiary of that privilege, I often find it eye-opening and startling how much others who don't get the same benefits have to be wary.

made me realize that my own experiences with dating and romance may not have been, for lack of a better word, "normal". I've always laughed at the things that happened to me, because, again, that makes them easier to deal with, and I'd always thought that, because I was a straight, cis guy, whatever had happened to me couldn't possibly measure up to what women or trans people face on a daily basis. And it doesn't. But after talking with friends and family, I realize it does matter, and I can't just keep laughing it off. Just because a disease isn't cancer or AIDS doesn't mean it isn't fatal if left untreated. And I need to treat this. So, uh, thanks Arthur, I guess.

Hoo! Okay, that was...man! I'm glad you convinced me to use a pseudonym, Arthur, because without that I'd probably have kept all that under a pickle-jar-tight lid. But ironically enough, an internet-based mask let me open up and deal with a deep-rooted issue in my life. Tell everybody what, next article I write will be about a happy romantic comedy.

Okay, now to address Ichneumon's comment, and Arthur's comment correctly this time! What bugged me about a lot of reviews that praised Audition's supposed feminist credentials was that they operated under the logic of "Asami tries to kill the guy that objectified her, ergo she is a feminist hero, ergo this is a feminist film". I don't agree with that line of logic, for the reasons I listed in the article. However, re-reading Arthur's comment, I see that you're actually going down a different logic route. "Asami is a reflection of the worst fears a woman in the dating scene can face, ergo by making her a her and her victim a him, it flips the power dynamic of this traditional, real-world horror and thus casts a lens on said real-world horror." Ichneumon, your comment, if I understand it correctly, is basically "Even if you don't like Aoyama, you can still empathize with his fear, and thus even if the movie seems to be 'sympathizing' with him, it could still be deeply criticizing him."

Thinking about it, I would say those are valid "readings" of the film, and again, maybe my own experiences have clouded my own reading. Even accepting your readings though, I stand by my judgment that Miike went for the most gratuitously violent and juvenile route when dealing with these issues. Even thinking back on the film and going "Oh yeah, I guess that's right", I still think Miike was too focused on "Whoo! Blood! Guts! Fuckin' gorefest maaan!" for me to consider this a good film. Genre fiction, in my opinion, is used best when wrapping real-world issues and problems in a creamy, more easily-digestible genre coating. In the case of horror, no boogeyman or monster under the bed can compare to the myriad ways that human beings can hurt you, but personifying real-world fears as boogeymen and monsters can make them or their memory a little easier to confront. But I think Miike was too firmly focused on the personification of Asami to really give the real-world fears behind her conception the focus and subtlety they deserve. I don't think horror should be "feel-good", but it should give you the courage to face your fears. This film seems more focused on making patriarchally-insulated men as scared as women are when it comes to dating, and it stops at that point, rather than going on to make the male audience think about how to change this patriarchal system. And that, I think, is why I still can't bring myself to like this film.

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Arthur B

at 13:39 on 2018-06-11Yeah, I think any reading of the film where Asami is any sort of "hero" is simply untenable - when you take into account more or less every aspect of how the movie frames her actions and their effect on people, the argument simply doesn't have a leg to stand on.

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Ichneumon

at 02:59 on 2018-06-12Oh, I agree. But I do think the subtext is quite important here in terms of the mechanics of the horror even if one does not care for the execution. Asami is a ghoulish subversion of the assumptions of a patriarchal society made flesh; her existence as a concept may resonate, but that does not make her anything resembling a sympathetic character—if anything, that type of character is more a force of nature, an emanation of the malevolence or harrowing indifference of greater forces rather than a person in themselves.

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Robinson L

at 15:00 on 2018-08-15

apart from that, and, y’know, the whole foot thing, Aoyama is none the worse for wear

Doesn't that invalidate him being a candidate for a Darwin Award?

Also, do you think you could edit the footnotes to make them links. It would aid readability, and I'm pretty sure it's in the HTML guide for articles.

I don't have any comments on the actual movie, as it's so far removed from my interests. *shrug*

I've always laughed at the things that happened to me, because, again, that makes them easier to deal with, and I'd always thought that, because I was a straight, cis guy, whatever had happened to me couldn't possibly measure up to what women or trans people face on a daily basis. And it doesn't. But after talking with friends and family, I realize it does matter, and I can't just keep laughing it off. Just because a disease isn't cancer or AIDS doesn't mean it isn't fatal if left untreated. And I need to treat this.

Oh, wow. I'm so glad this conversation led to such a positive revelation for you, and you're absolutely right. A couple months ago, I saw something reposted on Facebook, originally from a counselor who's worked with survivors of severe trauma, extreme childhood abuse and the like, and noting that even they are quick to say, "there are other people who have it worse than me." The originally poster's point is that everybody downplays their own woundness in contrast to someone else's experience, and even if the contrast is true, that doesn't mean you don't also need help and healing. Your disease analogy reminds me of a similar comparison I came up with a few years ago, about medical patients, one with severe burns, and multiple broken and fractured bones, and the other with a broken arm. Sure, the former has it worse off and should probably get higher priority in treatment, but that doesn't negate the latter's need for help and healing also.

ironically enough, an internet-based mask let me open up and deal with a deep-rooted issue in my life.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that a fairly common experience for people dealing with some heavy shit online? Isn't the anonymity one of the major contributing factors to many people's ability to process issues of trauma, sexual orientation, gender identity, mental illness and a host of other taboo/stigmatized subjects? Doesn't strike me as particularly ironic at all.

In any case, I'm so glad your participation on the site, and this conversation in particular, helped you come to this realization and start working on getting yourself the help you need. I know it's been a while (chronically behind on articles, me), and you're still working out the employment situation, but I hope you've managed some progress here, too.

This film seems more focused on making patriarchally-insulated men as scared as women are when it comes to dating, and it stops at that point, rather than going on to make the male audience think about how to change this patriarchal system.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that true of a lot of social commentary in fiction? I mean, that it shines a light on a particular problem without really pointing towards potential solutions? It seems a fairly common phenomenon to me.

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Arthur B

at 15:50 on 2018-08-15

Agreed, and to be honest neither fictional nor non-fictional statements need propose a solution to be valid. I don't need to propose a potential solution to homophobia to point out that Orson Scott Card is a homophobe, for instance.

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Raymond H

at 05:04 on 2018-08-24

Doesn't that invalidate him being a candidate for a Darwin Award?

You just want the world, don't you? In all seriousness, the title was more to indicate Aoyama's stupidity than his dying or being rendered sterile, since the whole point of the Darwin Award and the reason we laugh at the winners is less to do with the results of their actions and more the fact that someone would take those actions to begin with.

Also, do you think you could edit the footnotes to make them links.

I... don't... know... how... I couldn't find anything about it in the HTML Guide, except for the bit about putting links to outside websites in the article,

which I thankfully know how to do

I guess this is just another matter of different personal experiences. I just think that if you're going to go to the trouble of making a whole piece of art, as opposed to a simple critique or internet comment, to address a particular social issue, you should try to discuss the issue more comprehensively than simply going "Man, I am so woke for knowing about this issue! Bask in my wokeness." I've run into too many people who think all that's needed to change the world is to smoke weed and brag about how aware they are to find that attitude anything but insufferable. And again, this is all reliant on the axiom that such social commentary was intentional on Miike's part.

I really hate to be that guy in this situation. I myself have tried for years to get friends of mine into things that I like, where my best-reasoned arguments and most-impassioned treatises are apathetically deflected by said friends' simple inability to enjoy those things. And I can tell from the comments section that now I'm the one who just doesn't get it. But I'm simply not feeling it like you all are. I wish that I was, but I just...can't. I'm sorry.

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Robinson L

at 18:30 on 2018-08-28I've never really followed the Darwin Awards, so I wouldn't know.

Oh yeah. I remember figuring out the html code for footnotes was a little weird for me. I've just looked back at my very first article, and it turns out I submitted it with a footnote, which got coded when the article was transferred from my original text submission into a Ferretbrain article, by Kyra or Rami or whoever would have done that. I must have accessed it that way.

Anyway, at the risk of pulling away the curtain for non-contributing readers, here's the html code I use for footnotes:

< sup >< a href="#ftnote">[1]< /a >< /sup >

< sup >< a id="ftnote">[1]< /a >< /sup >

(Just remove the spaces before and after the < and > characters - added to prevent auto-formatting - and replace the "1" inside the square brackets with the desired number for both parts after the first footnote.)

I just think that if you're going to go to the trouble of making a whole piece of art, as opposed to a simple critique or internet comment, to address a particular social issue, you should try to discuss the issue more comprehensively than simply going "Man, I am so woke for knowing about this issue! Bask in my wokeness."

Huh, I don't know about that. I mean, absolutely, yes, you should try to discuss the issue comprehensively in a piece of art - but it doesn't necessarily follow that you should suggest a solution. Maybe you think you don't have the answers; or at least aren't convinced your answers are right. Or you think there are too many answers to fit into one piece, and don't want to privilege one or two answers over the others. Or you think it's more important to get your viewers to come up with their own answers.

There have definitely been times when I've seen a piece of art address a given difficult social issue without suggesting a solution, and it felt like a cop-out. But I've also seen plenty of examples which work so perfectly as what they are that putting in a part about "this is how we could fix this problem" would cheapen the result.

Doctor Strangelove

doesn't fail as a critique of militarism and the nuclear arms race because it refrains from putting forward a comprehensive program for phasing out nuclear weapons, or war in general. Indeed, it would likely be a far inferior film if it tried. Likewise,

The Lorax

doesn't need to propose a solution for environmental devastation to make the point that environmental devastation is a serious problem that we should work to solve.

I can believe that, if

Audition

is indeed trying to make a serious point about rape culture and male violence, it does so badly. But I think if so, then I don't think "it fails to propose a solution to these problems" is the reason.

And I can tell from the comments section that now I'm the one who just doesn't get it. But I'm simply not feeling it like you all are. I wish that I was, but I just...can't. I'm sorry.

I hope you're kidding, because a piece of art working fine for other people is no reason to expect it should necessarily work for you as well. Personally, I've never seen and with luck never will see

Audition

, because, as I've mentioned elsewhere, horror is decidedly not one of my preferred genres; especially not film/tv horror.

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Raymond H

at 13:11 on 2018-09-01Comments: Ooh, thank you!

Commentary: That's... a good point.

Concern: Oh. Well... I mean...

this is the internet...

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Robinson L

at 22:02 on 2018-09-10You're welcome, thanks for cleaning up the formatting, it looks much smoother now.

Well... I mean... this is the internet...

Yeah, plus, I screw up reading others' moods in person often enough - I'm hopeless at it online, so I thought I should check.

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Raymond H

at 04:21 on 2018-09-16Nah, it's cool. Thanks. :)

#Ferretbrain #Raymond H #Audition #Minority Warrior #Horror

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comingsoontoaskalt2d · 5 years

Text

Parker

Like most important things, it begins over breakfast.

2D is feeling unusually peppy this morning, waking up before his boyfriend for once. He yawns contentedly, stretching, then heaves himself out of bed with difficulty. He pads to the closet and slips his dressing gown on over his nude, comparatively chubby body.

A loud snore interrupts his vague thoughts, and he smiles over at the lumpy pile of blankets that hide his boyfriend. 2D shuffles over to Stu's side of the bed and tries to bend down to kiss his cheek, then winces and rubs his lower back as a small spike of pain shoots up his spine. He rests a hand on his bulging stomach. "Always in the way, ain't ya, love?" he whispers affectionately to Parker as he quietly makes his way into the living room.

He lets the puppies out to play and do their business in the garden, giggling a bit as they blink bewilderedly at the slight sting of frost on their little paws. After bringing them all back in and pouring their food into their bowls (only spilling a small amount), he has the brilliant idea of making breakfast in bed for Stuart.

Humming to himself, he scrambles some eggs, makes toast, even fries a bit of bacon. 'E's gonna be so surprised, 2D thinks, smiling. A lovely breakfast, the dogs already taken care of so there's no rush to get out of bed...maybe they'll even have a bit of time to fool around before heading to the studio. He lays their food out on a tray and carefully carries it into their bedroom, intending to wake Stu with either the delicious aroma or with a kiss– a successful one this time.

Instead, Stuart wakes to the sound of a loud, sudden gasp of pain, followed by the clatter of a tray full of food falling to the floor. He sits bolt upright, eyes still sleepy but alert with panic. "Bluebird, what's–"

One look at his boyfriend's face is all he needs in order to know instantly what's happening. But 2D tells him anyway, voice trembling in pain, fear, and overjoyed excitement as he rests a shaking hand on his stomach.

"S-Stu...she's comin'. Our– our baby's on her way."

—

By this time, they’ve reached the hospital. Stu skids to a stop, parks, and rushes over to 2D’s side of the car to help him out. “C'mon, love, we’re here, it’s okay, holy shit, it’s gonna be okay…”

His boyfriend nods, clutching his stomach. There are tears in his dark eyes from the painful contractions, but he’s smiling. “D-don’t let g-go of my hand, o-o-okay?” he manages.

“Don’t worry. I’m never lettin’ go of ya, bluebird.”

—

At the hospital, the nurses have put 2D in a wheelchair to make it faster for him to be taken to the delivery room. He’s got a death grip on Stuart’s hand as his boyfriend trots alongside him through the hallways.

“Heh, ’s like the dodgems, innit love?” he mumbles offhandedly. Stu looks at him in bewilderment, so he explains, “The wheelychairs. ’S like– ah!” He cringes as another contraction sends a jolt of pain through his body.

“Sure, love. Just– just hold on, yeah?”

—

2D, pale and panting, is wheeled into the delivery room. Stu keeps clutching his hand as he’s laid down.

“Okay, the procedure will take about an hour,” the doctor tells them as the IV, catheter, and screen are set up. “The anesthesiologist will be here soon, so you won’t have to worry about any pain.”

—

“Where’s ev'ryone?” 2D mumbles as the anesthesia starts taking effect.

“They’re on their way, sweetheart.” Stu kisses his forehead as the doctor prepares him for the surgery. “They’ll be in the waitin’ room, and then once Parker is all set and safe– oh my god I still can’t believe this is happening– once Parker is finally in your arms they can come in and see ya.”

—

“It…it feels funny.” 2D’s eyes, already hard to get a read on, are a bit glassy from the anesthesia. His breathing has slowed to a normal rate and he’s feeling a bit calmer– as opposed to his boyfriend, whose heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest.

“It d-doesn’t hurt, does it? They said it wouldn’t hurt!” He glares accusingly at the doctors.

2D pats his cheek in a reassuring way. “Nah, it don’t hurt. Just…a funny pinchin’ feelin’. You're– you’re squeezin’ me hand too tight, love.”

“S-sorry.” He loosens his grip, but only a little. “I’m just worried and excited and– r-right, that probably isn’t helpin’ you. Right. Just– breathe with me, yeah?”

His boyfriend smiles. “Yeah.”

—

And then they hear her. A high, piercing wail. 2D gasps and Stuart’s vicelike grip on his hand loosens in joy and relief.

She’s tiny and wrinkled and red, screaming her little lungs out as the doctor gently lifts her. “Mr. Pot, would you like to cut the cord?” she asks, smiling. Stuart can barely nod. His hands tremble as he carefully cuts the umbilical cord with the instrument handed to him.

“Stu, she's– she’s perfect,” 2D whispers. “She’s ours, a-and she’s here, and she’s perfect.” Stuart can’t hold back a small, undignified sob as he and his boyfriend look wonderingly at their daughter.

Her face is somewhat red and squashed-looking, but it’s already clear that she’s inherited her fathers’ thick eyebrows. She has 2D’s pre-accident brown eyes, Stuart’s long, slightly upturned nose– and a downy thatch of light blue hair. She blinks up at them, squinting.

“Welcome to the world, Miss Parker.”

—

The entire time the incision in 2D’s lower stomach is being stitched up, he’s a fidgety mess. “Where is she? I wanna see ‘er!”

“She’s being cleaned up and stabilized, Mr. Pot,” the doctor tells him. “You’ll be able to hold her soon, don’t worry. And we need to make sure you’re all set, too.”

2D frowns. “I’m fine! Why’s it takin’ so long?!”

“We need to conduct some tests to make sure she’s healthy. It’ll only be a few more minutes.” She puts her tools down. “Okay, it’s safe for you to try and sit up now.”

He does, with his boyfriend’s help. Just as he leans upright against the headboard, a nurse comes in holding Parker. She’s swaddled up in clean, soft blankets, brown eyes half-lidded and tiny lips pursed.

“She’s quite healthy,” the nurse informs them. “Six pounds, one ounce, and a healthy set of lungs. The only problem is her hearing.”

Stuart nods, unable to take his eyes off the tiny human they’ve created. “Yeah, w-we knew she’d be deaf.”

“Actually, no.” Both blue-haired men shoot their heads up. “From the initial tests, it appears she’s only deaf in her right ear. As she ages, even that may change.”

2D lets out a small, happy sob as an incredulous grin spreads across Stu’s face. “She…she can hear us?” The nurse nods, carefully handing Parker to 2D.

2D cradles her close. “Hullo, love,” he whispers. “It’s real, real nice t'meet ya. We’re your dads.”

—

Shortly after 2D falls asleep, Stuart’s leg starts jiggling. He’d had to use the bathroom since that morning– obviously, the circumstances of their morning had put his bladder completely out of his mind. But now that all three Pots were at the hospital, safe and happy and healthy, he finds himself shifting uncomfortably in his chair. Regretfully, he stands up, Parker cradled safely in his arms, and goes to find a nurse to take the baby for a short time.

After he’s come back from the toilet, he’s greeted by the sight of a still dozy 2D, who smiles groggily at him. “Where’s th’ baby?” he asks upon seeing Stuart’s empty arms.

He lies down next to his boyfriend– luckily the beds are large enough for two in the maternity ward– and kisses his cheek. “She’s with the nurse. You can go back to sleep, bluebird, ya don’t have to worry about anythin’.”

2D sighs, snuggling comfortably up next to him. “Ahh…’m so lucky, Stu. Lucky to ‘ave you, lucky to 'ave Parker…’m so happy, I could jus’ burst.”

“Thought you already did that a few hours ago.”

He snorts and tucks his head against Stuart’s neck. “Gross. ’S more magical than that, love.”

And that’s the word for it, thinks Stuart. Magical. Magical that he and 2D had met, magical that he had gotten pregnant– actually, literally magical– and now with the uncomplicated birth, not to mention her hearing loss being loads less severe than they’d anticipated. It really was like the universe had come together to make all this happen for the two of them…for the three of them. And he couldn’t be more grateful.

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