#look. tomorrow i will unpack my bass. and i will play through some things. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jkstompers · 3 years

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noise complaints | myg

pairing: min yoongi x female reader

summary: yoongi is tired of his loud, video game addicted roommate, so he decides to move out and get his own apartment for some peace and quiet. but with his luck, gets you as his neighbor: a girl who plays bass in a band and hates the feeling of earbuds in her ears.

word count: 5.8k

genre: neighbor!au, producer yoongi, bassist oc, pwp ( ；∀；) i tried but rlly it’s just... smut

warnings: mature!! (18+!), explicit language, smut, making out, fingering, dom!yoongi, he’s a little mean

author’s note: hi!!!!!! in honor of yoongi’s birthday, i wanted to post this fic that i had sitting in my drafts! i hope u enjoy!! (´⌣`ʃƪ) pls let me know what u think!

banner pic creds here <3

yoongi doesn’t know how to tell his roomate, mark, that his gaming obsession has driven him to take extreme measures that consist of: moving out. he never stops playing video games. all day, all night, his eyes are fixed on the computer or tv screen, always screaming to his team mates about where to go or who’s fucking up. yoongi’s not sure if he can take it anymore.

he’s finally saved up enough to move into an apartment of his own, he’s been planning this for almost 6 months; already visited the apartment complex, discussed prices, background checks, etc. all yoongi really needs to do is finish signing the papers and start moving in.

he decides to just let mark know, no sugarcoat. as yoongi expected, mark practically begs on his knees for him to stay. his parents are paying for his share of the apartment but only if he splits the cost with a roommate, but yoongi’s gone through two years of it already, he’s over it. over the next few days, mark watches yoongi dejectedly as he packs his things.

by the end of the week, yoongi has finished packing and already signed the lease. he tells mark ‘good luck’ and leaves him in the dust, hopefully he’ll find another roommate, but that’s beyond yoongi’s concern now. all he has to worry about now is unpacking his boxes in his brand new apartment.

he looks around at the empty space, with the boxes cornered in one section. he smiles to himself, no noisy roomates, no unwashed dishes, no dirty laundry, ah, finally. peace and qui—

and that’s when he hears the blare of your speakers, it’s not loud enough for the entire complex to hear, but the music obviously bleeds through the shared wall. yoongi groans, knowing that this could be a complete repeat of mark. he’s not sure if he should knock on your door and ask you to lower the music down, it’s only his first day here. don’t you treat your neighbors with respect? why are you so loud?

yoongi decides to ignore it for now. he unpacks his things and starts furnishing the room so he can have a place to sleep for the night. when everything is put together, he feels the weight of the day; how much he’s been lifting and how he’s now renting an apartment hits him all at once. the dull pain resonates in his arms, his head starting to ache, and you’re still playing your fucking music. he can’t take it anymore, especially not with this ache getting worse.

yoongi feels his fist knock angrily against your door three times, he waits for you to open the door. except, he was not expecting a pretty girl to answer, he was expecting maybe an obnoxious frat guy; he’s absolutely flustered. you stand there and look up at him confused, “hi? did you need something?” your voice snaps him out of his thoughts.

“i’m— uh, i’m your neighbor, i’m sorry to disrupt, but if you could just lower your music down a bit, i’m really tired, and—” he starts but a gasp of excitement leaves you, cutting him off.

“my neighbor?! that apartment has been empty for so long! i’m so sorry, i was just so used to no one being able to hear! welcome! i’m ___!” you greet him cheerfully, taking his hands into yours and shaking them. yoongi feels his cheeks turn pink, your hands are soft and you’re so pretty.

“my name is yoongi,” he replies, he stands there not really knowing how to respond to the way you’re so excited. he wishes he could reciprocate but his head is pounding, all he wants to do is sleep.

you pick up on his energy, letting go of his hands to wave him off, “i’ll turn the music off for today, get some rest, yoongi, if you need help, some sugar or something, you can always just knock on my door,” you smile.

yoongi nods, “thank you, ___, goodnight.”

“goodnight, yoongi! nice meeting you,” you reply, closing your door. you blush behind the door, a neighbor? a cute one at that? there’s a sudden rush of adrenaline pulsing through your veins, testing you, telling you to blast your music just so he could come back and you could look at him one more time. but you decide it’s better not to, he said he was tired, maybe tomorrow.

yoongi returns to his apartment, thankful that you kept to your word and kept the music off. his body drifts his pounding head to sleep.

two weeks had gone by before yoongi’s eyes, he spent most of it buying furniture since the apartment looked so bare. one upside to a loft apartment was that he didn’t have to buy too much furniture, a bed, a couch, a tv, and maybe a rug was enough for him, for now of course.

in the time that’s passed, he’s learned that you like playing music when you’re studying, cleaning, when you’re doing anything really. whenever he thinks it’s too loud, he knocks through the wall, you get the hint most of the time. he’s also learned that you can play the bass and that you’re in a band. speaking of that, you’re having a meeting with them right now, and yoongi can hear every word of it.

your band mates decided to barge into your apartment today, waking you from your study nap and telling you that you all need to practice. the volume of their voices is jarring, you never realized how loud you and your surroundings were until yoongi moved in. you’re suddenly conscious about your volume at all times, his knocks whenever you were loud always made you feel terrible, but you couldn’t help but blush whenever you thought of him. you were torn, be loud and get his attention or be quiet and get on his good side.

“___! grab your shit and let’s go!” jungkook shouts. he’s the guitarist and lead singer of the band; he gets impatient sometimes.

“oh just let her daydream for a little bit, she’s probably thinking about her hot neighbor,” seulgi teases. she’s the drummer and your best friend. you don’t let her comment pass so easily, but you try to ignore the way your face heats up.

“you think he’s hot?” you quip back. a smirk on your face as you zip your bass into it’s case. yoongi is surprised at the way he can hear your voices so clearly, he wonders if you guys always talk this loud or if the walls are really that thin. “you haven’t even seen him yet,” you lug your bag over your shoulder.

“he sounds hot.” she shrugs, taking a bite of the apple she stole from your fruit basket. jungkook grows more and more antsy the longer you both talk.

“where’s taehyung anyway?” you ask. the realization comes to you when you feel a missing presence, knowing your 4th member would say something about yoongi.

“how nice of you to finally ask, he’s been waiting in the car for you slow pokes, let’s get going.” jungkook rushes, pushing you and seulgi out of the door. you turn to lock the door when you hear the door to your left slide open.

“oh my god, jungkook look, he’s hot.” seulgi smacks jungkook’s shoulder to make him look. your eyes are glued on the figure standing outside of apartment 77.

“hi— hey, yoongi,” you greet him while locking your door. it’s embarrassing the way the three of you are all almost drooling at the sight of him.

“hi, ___,” he sends a small smile to you, looking over to your bandmates hesitantly. yoongi notices jungkook, an assumption is made in his head almost immediately, boyfriend?

you scramble next to them and introduce them, “yoongi, these are my bandmates, seulgi, she plays the drums, and jungkook, he plays guitar and sings, there’s taehyung too, he plays guitar too but he— he’s um, in the car.”

“ah, nice to meet you.” he nods, greeting them as well. “i actually have to get to work, but it was cool meeting you all,” he excuses himself. you all wave to him.

“way to be fucking awkward guys,” you scold them when you’re all walking to the car. taehyung looks up from his phone to see the three of you walking his way, he starts the car once you open the door.

“hey, not our fault he’s good looking,” jungkook shrugs and seulgi holds her hand up for a high five, which he gladly gives her.

“not fair! you guys got to see ___’s hot neighbor while i was stuck in the car? i knew i should have just came in,” taehyung grumbles, pulling out of the apartment complex’s parking lot.

“it just so happened that he was leaving his apartment the same time we were, maybe you’ll meet him too tae,” you rub his arm. a somewhat sarcastic tone in your voice. taehyung rolls his eyes, starting the drive to the studio.

the music in the car was overshadowed by taehyung and seulgi arguing about when you and yoongi would finally hook up. you had to remind them that he hasn’t even been here a month yet, and that you guys barely talk besides the small hellos and awkward run ins when you’re doing laundry. it seems to keep them quiet, taehyung parks in the lot and you all move into the studio, making your way to the practice room the owners thankfully let you use to rehearse.

a couple songs are played and you all vote for a break. taehyung and jungkook having a guitar battle, seulgi leaning back against the wall on her phone, and you, need to pee! you leave the room and use the bathroom as usual, but a familiar bleach blonde head turns the corner and starts to walk down the hallway towards you, the breath you’re holding turns into a gasp when you realize it’s him. “yoongi?! why are you here?”

he looks up from the ground, looking as surprised as you when he realizes you were talking to him, “i work here, why are you here? are you following me?” he grills, you scoff at the question.

“i’m with my band, we’re rehearsing,” you explain. he raises his eyebrows, you’re not sure what it means. “you don’t believe me?” you pose.

“it’s just a little suspicious,” he shrugs, yoongi knows exactly what he’s doing. he hopes his hint makes sense to you, he’s never really been good at flirting. a familiar feeling erupts in his stomach, one that people could call butterflies whenever he saw you. he really just wants to see you play, and to hear you sing, that’s what he wants the most.

“uh, i can bring you to them? i promise i’m here with my band,” you laugh, warmth spreading to your cheeks. there is no way in hell that you’re going to play in front of yoongi. you were confident sure, but your embarrassing crush on him will make your fingers shake when you try to press the strings down. it’ll be a shitshow!

“can i pee first?” his small laugh brings a smile to your face. boys pee fast, you’ve learned that over time, so yoongi doesn’t take long. you’re both walking back down the hallway, “your boyfriend isn’t angry that you’re with me?” the random question makes your steps stutter.

“i’m sorry, what? boyfriend?” your eyebrows are furrowed as you stare up at him, his face isn’t showing any sign of humor, he’s serious.

“you’re not dating one of your band mates? isn’t that how it usually goes?” his lips purse as you continue to walk to the room that your band is occupying, he’s so serious that it makes you laugh.

“oh my god, yoongi, i’m single as a pringle, they’re my best friends, our number one rule is to never date within the band, that’s how things get messy,” you explain. a weight is taken off of yoongi’s shoulders, it wasn’t his fault he thought of it; you’re beautiful and surrounded by people that probably want you as much as he does.

“oh,” he answers, you both turn the corner and approach the door, “good to know.” the door opens to your three members looking at the two of you with raised eyebrows.

“oh my god, it’s him,” seulgi points to yoongi with her drumstick. you wave your hand to signal her to put it down, ‘it’s rude!’ you mouth.

“are you yoongi?” taehyung asks, taking his guitar and putting it down on it’s stand. yoongi nods, holding his hand out to shake taehyung’s, which he doesn’t take. instead taehyung pulls him into a hug, yoongi doesn’t expect the sudden action of affection, his arms not knowing what to do. “it’s so nice to finally meet you! ___ talks about you a lot,” taehyung’s confession makes your face flush.

“taehyung! what the fuck!? i’ve talked about you like twice, yoongi, i swear,” you defend yourself, pushing taehyung off of him. you laugh awkwardly, yoongi shoots you both a gummy smile.

“nice to meet you, taehyung,” he completely ignores your defense. he finds it cute, your flustered face as you try to tell taehyung to shut up.

“anyways,” you huff. “yoongi thinks i followed him here, so i am showing proof that i’m actually here with you guys and not stalking him.”

your friends snort at the same time, “actually, yoongi, we have no idea who this girl is! i think she’s following you,” taehyung whisper-shouts, you smack his shoulder.

“no but really, ___ we were just gonna call it a day, seulgi said she has to go to a family dinner soon and taehyung said he was hungry,” jungkook speaks up. it’s then that you realize that their instruments were almost all packed. yoongi looks down at you, a small smile on his face once he realizes what they’re trying to do.

“i leave to pee for five minutes and you guys hatch a plan to ditch me?!” you cross your arms over your chest.

“well… we just told you, so, technically we didn’t ditch you, also i can’t drop you off, yoongi, you can drop her off, right?” taehyung smiles to him.

“i—“ yoongi starts but you cut him off with plans to scold your members. they knew exactly what they were doing and you weren’t having it.

“taehyung, you’re dropping me off, let’s not bother yoongi,” you move to pack your bass but yoongi shakes his head.

“i can drop you off,” he smiles.

“oh, see! perfect! thank you, yoongi.” taehyung grabs his hand and gives him a good shake, before you know it your members are out the door.

you sigh as you lift your case and sling it over your shoulder, “it’s okay, yoongi, i can walk.”

he rolls his eyes, “don’t be ridiculous, are you hungry? we can eat first.”

his hand is outstretched and you’re not sure what it means, does he want to hold your hand? but no, he’s asking for your bass, so he can hold it instead of you. you reject his offer, “i can hold it.”

“you’re really stubborn,” he notes. it makes you snort.

“you’re not into stubborn girls?” the joke slips from your mouth before you can think.

this is the perfect time, yoongi thinks. “if it’s you, maybe i’ll make an exception.”

you try your best not to show any type of reaction, but you can’t really ignore the way your heartbeat quickened. yoongi leads you to his car, putting your bass in the trunk as you get comfortable in the front seat. he follows you soon enough and is driving out of the studio parking lot.

“you don’t have to work?” you question. getting into the car of someone you barely know is quite risky of you, but he was your neighbor, and he was hot. that doesn’t give you a reason to trust him, though for some reason, you think you can rely on yoongi, it’s a gut feeling.

“technically i work all day, i’m on my own schedule, i basically spend the entire day in the studio,” he explains. his focus is on the road but from his peripheral he can see your body turned to him, and your eyes glued on him.

“workaholic?” you guessed, he smiles.

“you could say that.”

“that’s good then, i’m giving you a reason for a break!” you clap, your nervousness fading as you start to get comfy with yoongi.

a friendship blooms from that lucky, odd encounter that day.

you forgot how long it’s been since you officially met yoongi and spent the day with him, maybe two months? three months ago? you never kept track. but you do remember that things changed after that. the two of you so obviously flirting with each other whenever you had the chance. yoongi would offer you a ride to the studio, which you greedily took whenever he asked; because he was a cool guy to be with, and in all honesty you were trying to put the moves on him. you’re not sure if he’s taking the hints though, you’ve never been good at the shy type of flirting, most of the time you’re upfront.

speaking of being upfront: yoongi hasn’t really been complaining about your noise lately, and it’s been eerily quiet on his end. no knocks on the wall when your volume was a tad bit higher than usual, no texts telling you to ‘be quiet’ when you were practicing late at night, nothing. you figure it’s because the two of you have grown a lot closer. hanging out together and even making some inside jokes together type of close.

it’s soon that you figure out why yoongi hasn’t been upfront, complaining to you about your noise, because he talked to your apartment manager about it. you knew namjoon well, he was one of your classmates in college. his father originally owned the place, so he’s been taking over for him. you’ve grown close to namjoon due to situations that left you outside of your apartment multiple times without your keys. his master key saved your ass one too many times. so, when you received a letter from him in the mail this morning with a big red ‘important’ stamp on it. you knew you were in trouble.

the words noise complaints, your neighbor, and eviction were the only ones you needed to read for you to be stomping towards yoongi’s apartment. you didn’t care that it was ten in the morning and you’re banging on yoongi’s door. you knocked nonstop until he opened up. his sleepy face scrunched in confusion as he stood before you.

“___? what’s wrong?” his morning voice could have made you melt, if you weren’t so fucking angry. you step past him, moving inside his apartment. “okay, come in, i guess,” yoongi says as he shuts the door behind you.

“you complained about me?! i got a fucking letter from namjoon! he never sends letters!” you raise your voice. it’s too early in the morning to be yelling, your voice is a bit rough, it sounds like you’re croaking.

it’s also way too early for yoongi to be dealing with this, so his voice is soft when he says, “be quiet, we’re gonna get complaints from the other neighbors now too.” he walks up to you and your very angry expression. he just looks so kissable right now, it’s making you angrier. how could he look so perfect when you’re mad at him? that’s so rude!

you lower your voice when you ask, complying to his demand. you cross your arms over your chest, “why would you do that?”

yoongi laughs.

it makes your eyebrows furrow. was he not taking you seriously? you loved this apartment, you needed to live here. it makes the anger boil a little hotter. “you think this is funny, yoongi? i’ve—” your voice is raising once more.

this time yoongi rolls his eyes. “shut up.” his voice grew deeper than it already was, the bass traveling straight to your lower belly.

you try to act as if it had no effect on you, but your small silence before you spoke made things a little obvious. “excuse me? shut up?” you scoff. your feet carrying you closer to yoongi, breaking the distance in effort to intimidate. yoongi wasn’t one to be scared, if anything, he found it funnier.

but the way that your pretty face looks when you’re angry makes yoongi want to do more, wants to push and push because he can feel the tension between you both. you can too. “yeah, you’re so goddamn loud all the time, shut the fuck up.” he moves a little closer, the distance between you both is almost none.

it makes your eyes flicker to his lips. here you were, thinking that you were gonna teach yoongi a lesson, yet you want to kiss him. “want me to shut up?” your eyes move back to his, making eye contact. he licks his lips in anticipation. “make me,” you press.

you feel his soft hand against your cheek first, leading you to his lips. then it was the plush of his lips against yours. this feeling could definitely make you shut up. before you knew it, you were pushing yoongi over to his couch. he breaks the kiss to plop down onto the couch, you follow suit, straddling his lap.

“if you wanted to make out with me, you could have just asked.” you spoke before reattaching your lips.

he smiles into the kiss, “where’s the fun in that?”

the kiss deepens, tongues exploring each other’s mouths and small whimpers escaping your throat. they go straight to yoongi’s groin, you can feel his hard cock against your core through your sweatpants. instinctively, you grind down, the feeling makes him groan out.

his large hands move to your ass, running over them and trailing up to your waist. his hands sliding under your shirt, you know you aren’t wearing a bra, and yoongi finds out soon after. his thumbs running right over your hard nipples, “eager?” he smirks.

you roll your eyes, “i’m just cold.” the lie makes yoongi scoff, tweaking your nipples between his thumb and index fingers. now, goosebumps raise over your skin, and it wasn’t because of the cold.

“take your shirt off,” he speaks against your lips. usually, you weren’t one to follow orders, your rebellious spirit screaming in your head, telling you to take control. but you’ve never wanted anything more than to let yoongi have you, let him do whatever he wants to you. because outside of this, he just seems so nice, never mean, never demanding. you can’t help but indulge in this new side of yoongi you’ve discovered.

so you’re taking your shirt off, the breeze created by his air conditioner makes you shiver, but yoongi's warm hands are there to comfort you. running them over your breasts, squeezing them just right as he kisses down your throat. “y-yoongi—” you whimper. his lips find a certain spot that has you grinding harder onto his dick.

“you aren’t very patient,” he speaks against your skin. “i’ll let it slide this time.” a tender kiss to your neck is placed before he lingers on the spot a little longer, sucking and licking, making sure to leave a pretty red mark. he makes his way to your nipple, wrapping his mouth around the bud and sucking. the feeling makes you throw your head back, his hand tweaks your other nipple, refusing to neglect it.

it was true, you were not patient. you hated waiting too long for something, just like how you hate the feeling of your warm core go uncared for. the grinding wasn’t enough at this point, you wanted more, needed it really. “are you gonna fuck me or not?” you push him gently off of your nipple.

an almost annoyed gaze is painted on his face, “are you going to beg?” he quirks an eyebrow.

you weren’t one to plead, “no.”

“then no,” he asserts. you purse your lips, complete dissatisfaction displayed on your face. “don’t worry, kitten, i’ll make you feel good.” yoongi gives in. he didn’t know how long he could hold back, your attitude makes him want to check you, make you cum as many times he wants you to until you’re obeying.

the nickname makes you drip. he’s pushing up from below, his leg kneeling onto the couch as he lays you down. your head lays against the pillow he has on the couch, yoongi gives you a swift kiss before he moves down, trailing kisses on the valley of your breasts and your stomach, stopping just before the waistband of your sweatpants. “yoongi,” you mewl.

“hm? wanna beg now?” he challenges. his fingers teasingly slipping under the band. your body reacts so easily to his touch, your hips slightly jerking up at the graze of his hands.

but you’re stubborn, not wanting to let yoongi win even though the only thing you want right now is for him to make you feel good. “no, never.” you shake your head.

yoongi doesn't verbally reply, instead, nodding and smirking to himself. “can i eat you out then?” he asks. you don’t trust your words, so you nod, knowing you’ll fall into the trap yoongi has set. “i need to hear you say it, kitten.”

“yes,” you quickly say.

yoongi quirks a brow. “yes, what?”

you roll your eyes, just once, you tell yourself. “yes, please.”

“good girl,” he praises. you hate to admit that you liked the way he called you a good girl. your sweatpants and panties are pulled down at the same time, revealing your wet pussy. “so pretty, baby.” he positions himself between your spread legs. you bite your bottom lip in anticipation.

kisses against your thighs and pubic bone are what he starts off with, then a brief kiss to your clit that makes you gasp. “oh, god—” you lean your head back against the couch.

“also, just to let you know, the letter was a joke,” yoongi breathes. mouth ghosting your lips, where you need him the most.

at first you didn’t pay attention to what he said, a hum leaving your lips until then you realized, “what?!”

“i thought it’d be funny to scare you a little bit, namjoon and i are friends, i asked him if he could do it for me.” he explains with a smile on his face.

you rolled your eyes. you knew it was too serious to be namjoon, his style was more so speaking, not letters. you couldn’t be mad at him, at least you weren’t in trouble. but you play it up for the fun, “will you make it up to me?” a sly look on your face.

“what do you want?” he leans his head against your thigh, waiting patiently for your answer. his fingers ever so gently running up and down your thighs.

“your cock,” you demand with a mischievous smile. your hands run through his hair, eyes pleading because you won’t allow your mouth to let the words out.

yoongi acts like he thinks about it, but all he truly wants, is to devour your and make you feel so good. “you don’t deserve it.” he denies you of the pleasure you want, but he surprises you, running his tongue along your slit.

“oh— oh, yoongi,” you mewl. your hands moving to play with your boobs, but yoongi knocks your hands away. he directs them to his hair, telling you to pull. his hands replace yours, playing and tweaking with your nipples as his tongue does the work.

“taste so good, baby.” yoongi loves the sight of you so vulnerable in front of him. you’re bare, naked while yoongi still has all his clothes on. he loves it. your eager body twitching from the ministrations of his tongue. he pulls away for a second, “don’t cum until i say so.”

“that’s not— umph!” you start but yoongi retracts his hands from your breasts, bringing them back to your thighs to spread them further apart. your lips reveal your sweet spot for yoongi to take, and he’s relentless. the taste of you on his tongue drives him crazy. “that’s not fair,” you moan out.

yoongi doesn’t care. he loves being in control. so when your phone starts to ring, yoongi thinks this is the best time to assert dominance. “answer it,” he commands. he pulls away from your pussy, the loss of the feeling of his tongue makes you groan out in displeasure. in turn, yoongi rubs his middle and ring fingers against your clit. it makes you gasp. he slips the fingers in, your walls pulsating against his fingers. another moan leaves your lips. you were completely ignoring the rings coming from your phone. he repeats himself, “answer the phone, baby.”

“but,” you spoke. your worry being that you were so wound up and yoongi’s fingers were still residing inside of you. you knew it would be way too obvious.

“they won’t know,” he assures. a gentle touch against your thigh comforting you, making you believe this was a good idea.

your fucked out brain obliges, your hand moving to reach for your phone. jungkook’s contact name displayed on the screen, you press the green button and place the phone next to your ear. “jungkook? what’s up?” you answer. yoongi’s eyes locked onto yours as you speak.

“speaker,” he mouths. you nod, mindlessly obliging. taking the phone away from your ear and pressing the speaker button. his fingers dangerously still in your pussy, ready to cause chaos whenever he felt like it.

“dude! guess fucking what!” jungkook shouts over the phone. yoongi pushes deeper, bottoming out his fingers. it makes your eyes roll back, a quiet gasp escaping your lips.

you’re moving the phone away so he doesn’t hear it, but yoongi is pushing your hand back into position. “what?” you cough, trying to cover the noise.

“you okay? you sound… weird.” jungkook snorts over the phone, you can hear seulgi and taehyung in the back, their bickering all too familiar.

“i— i’m good.” you nod even though he can’t see you.

“okay, well, this guy from a record label called earlier, he said he wants to take us all out to eat and talk about our future!” jungkook informs. your eyes widen. a record deal?! even yoongi reacts, a cute, surprised look on his face. how funny was it that you were receiving this news with yoongi’s fingers fucking you.

“you’re lying.” you sit up a little bit, leaning onto your forearm. yoongi decides to be nice, letting his fingers stay stagnant in your hole so you can enjoy the news.

“i’m serious! we’re on the way to yours right now to pick you up, be ready in five minutes,” he tells you.

“right now?!” you exclaim. yoongi smirks, starting to pumping his fingers in and out of you, making your breaths a little more labored. “oh— fuck,” you groaned, you tried to cover it up by making it sound like you were annoyed. but anyone could be able to tell what you were doing, the squelch of your pussy loud enough for the entire apartment complex to hear probably.

“what the hell are you—” jungkook starts but you cut him off, yoongi’s fingers moving faster and the string in your belly about to snap from the tension.

“okay, jungkook! bye! love you! see you in a bit!” you rush the words out and press the big red button to hang up, throwing your phone onto the floor as yoongi leans over you with a smile on his face.

“congratulations, baby.” he punctuates his sentence with a quick circle around your clit. you’re so wound up, you could feel tears starting to build up in your eyes.

“yoongi, please, please let me cum.” you beg, giving in to his desires. the sound of your begging is music to his ears. he smirks, quickening the tight circles around your clit. your legs spreading wider if that was even possible.

yoongi’s plans were cut short due to your new plans, but he didn’t mind. he was happy for you, and he’s never wanted to make someone cum as much as he does now. “alright, kitten, cum whenever you want,” he whispers in your ear. his fingers coated in your wetness gliding against your clit, it feels way too good. the string in your belly snapping as soon as he gave you permission.

you found yourself letting out some of the loudest moans because yoongi was just that good. “holy fuck, yoongi,” you gasp. your chest rises and falls quickly, taking in as many breaths as possible.

“good job, baby.” he kisses your neck, letting you recover before slipping his fingers out and bringing them up to your lips. at first you furrow your eyebrows, this isn’t something you usually do; but when he says, “open,” you find yourself obliging easily. “good girl,” he smiles as you suck your cum off of his fingers.

you pull his fingers from your mouth when you’re sure you’ve sucked them clean, “i got a record deal dinner, min!” you rush to put your clothes on. yoongi tries his best to help, but all he wants to do is give you a big hug. he lets you put your clothes on before he’s holding you in his grasp, while you’re trying to make your way to his door. the two of you wobbling to his door.

“let me kiss you first, rockstar.” he smiles, his hand gently taking ahold of your face and giving you a kiss. it tastes just like you, the sultry memory that will live in yoongi’s brain for as long as it’s able.

he tries to kiss you once more, but you’re pushing him away. “i gotta go, yoongi,” you giggle. his hands holding you close to him, your back pressed against his front door as you kiss each other sloppily. “yoongi!” you smile, more laughs erupting as he helps you open the door. as soon as the door slides open, yoongi’s eyes move behind you, a sly smile on his face.

you turn to see your three band mates, all of their mouths agape. “i fucking told you! pay up, idiots!” seulgi smacks the both taehyung and jungkook’s shoulders.

your face blushes tomato red. you try to hide your face as you open your apartment door. before you turn the key, you hear yoongi congratulate the four of you. “good luck at your label meeting! make sure they don’t scam you,” he advises. your bandmates laugh, thanking yoongi and moving into your apartment. they don’t let you live down the embarrassment for the entire night.

when you come back home, you sit on your couch. a smile taking over your face when you think about how great the day was. you think the dinner went perfect, and when you hear a knock on your door, it has you rushing to open it.

yoongi stands outside your door with a cupcake and a single lit candle stuck in it. “congratulations!— it went well right?”

you stand in front of him, a sweet smile on your face as you nod. “i think they loved us,” you pull him into your apartment.

“of course they did! you guys are amazing!” yoongi hugs you, holding the cupcake above your head so it doesn’t get in your hair.

the rest of the night you and yoongi enjoy each other’s presence and the two of you talk about everything and nothing.

yoongi says the cupcake is just for you, but you take a knife and split it, “for us.” you give him a quick peck before eating your half, and then kissing him once more.

for us. it repeats in yoongi’s mind.

us.

yeah, he’d like that.

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emotionalsupportbun-chan · 3 years

Text

i'm talkin WIP WIP WIP thats a work in progress

cw: sub Daigo, dom Ryuji, praise kink, hand jobs, feelings

You Look Pretty with Your Mouth Hanging Open

He is sitting in the back of some no name cabaret, eyes glazed into the middle distance. A woman, unpretty enough for her name to get lost in the back of his mind, clings to his arm. She’s telling him about an expensive watch at Le Marche - something jewel toned and European. Like what decorates the wrists of half the girls in Kamurocho. Dime-a-dozen.

But he’s not hearing the plain-ish hostess beg for trinkets. Or at least not listening to her. He lets his boys do that, and splash out on expensive affirmations of counterfeit love. He didn’t need that. To be reminded that anything he got here was a pleasant imitation at best.

And you think it was different with him? You think he loved you?

No, but at least there was no pretense otherwise.

“Hey, Aniki. We have time for another bottle, right?” This one - Hiroki? - is getting an eye full of tit and an expensive earworm.

Daigo looks down at the half empty glass of half-water whisky in his hand. The color is hatefully reminiscent. He knocks it back and leaves the glass coasterless on the cheap table. “Yeah, sure. Why not.”

He finds solipsism near the end of the third bottle. He is younger. He is full of piss and vinegar. He wants to take the world and crumble it between his teeth. There are no hostess clubs or expensive European watches.

But there are hands that tame him from time to time. Hands that weave his hair tight between their fingers. Hands the prise open his jaw, relieve the pressure on his world-crumbling teeth, and pull sighs and moans and Yes, sirs from his throat.

And there is a mouth with a scar in the corner that he traces with his tongue. A mouth that cracks open his skull and relieves the pressure on his world-weary mind with cock-throbbing Good boys.

Of course there have been hands and mouths since. Hands and mouths that repeat the refrain, sing the same chorus and bridge. But out of key. Octaves too high.

You’re just upset he gets your engine going hotter than any hostess could.

And?

But.

But?

The last fill station was a hundred kilometers ago. And you can’t conceive of another showing up any time soon.

He is jostled by an elbow to the side, still preoccupied with hands and mouths and cars and songs. “You good, bro?”

His glass is empty and so is bottle three. His gut is left full of liquor that feels like it’s trying to rot out the bottom. “Yeah, fine.” The response is far away, half way out the door already. Looking back to ask if they’d paid the bill yet.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. No, really. I’m great.”

Can’t even muster up a smile.

For lack of liquor, Daigo chewed ice until the check came.

The door is only a few dozen feet away, but he is full of feelings and fire water. Cotton head, cotton mouth, cotton heart. Only a teenage eternity faking sober to see him through. Concentrate.

What, hear that?

What?

That voice.

From a private room nearby. Bass-low, strutting around like it owns the joint. Peacocking. He’d know it anywhere.

There it is. Last stop for who knows how long.

But why is he here?

Does it matter? Think about it.

Don’t think about it. He’d never live down walking out of here with a half-mast cock.

From what? A memory? Of being on your knees while he drips cigarette-flavored spit from his pretty lips into your mouth?

He centers himself with a hard breath through the nose.

Think of it as motivation.

“Hey, you coming or what?” The others are paces ahead. He’s been loitering near the short hall to the private rooms for an embarrassingly long time.

Now or never. What’s it gonna be?

Beat.

Well?

“Yeah, uh. I just gotta, uh, piss first.” He slips into the hall before any response, knowing full well the bathrooms were upstairs.

Attaboy.

His honey voice fades in and out with laughter and exclamation. It makes Daigo’s palms sweat. His pulse quicken.

What if he tells you to go fuck yourself, huh? What then?

Maybe that would be a mercy. Maybe if he couldn’t have him forever, he shouldn’t have him at all.

What if he doesn’t even remember you?

Worse. To become insignificant to the best thing he’d ever had.

What happened to not loving him?

He didn’t. Doesn’t. It wasn’t love, it was peace. Not romance, but oblivion. Emptiness.

Freedom.

Looks like you’ve got it all figured out.

Someone had left the door to their room open. There are fewer people than Daigo expects. Three, four. And him at the center of it all. The sun, cock-sure with an ugly hostess petting his chest.

Now what? You gonna go in there and beg?

No.

He’d like that. You’d like that.

No. Something else.

Please sir, can I have some more?

Something else.

Daigo rubs his hands on his jeans and screws his face into something akin to a scowl. He doesn’t fill the doorway. “Ryuji Goda, what the fuck are you doing in Kamurocho?” His voice doesn’t fill the words either. It’s false confidence.

“Haw?” His mouth - dangerous, exciting, the second best part of him - pulls into a signature sneer. “And who the fuck is asking?”

And so the worst has come to pass.

No, maybe he’s just putting on a show for the boys. Daigo can play along.

“I am.”

“And who are you?” No hesitation. Unflustered.

The same could not be said of Daigo, who searches his face for any spark of recognition. Anything. Anything to alleviate the growing, gnawing pit eroding his chest.

It takes everything he has not to say ‘They guy who’s had your cock in his mouth more times than you can count’ or ‘The guy who used to let you blow his back out daily’.

Instead he says nothing and leaves with a muttered ‘whatever’. There is nothing productive to be had in the exchange. Nothing to gain, but so much to lose.

Poor, poor Daigo. But you were prepared for this, remember?

A likely story. A convenient lie. He isn’t sure that had even been possible.

He is puking in the back of some no name alley off east Taihei, drink having finally caught up to him. Red eyed and snotty, he remembers the first time he’d gagged on cock, when Ryuji’d gotten impatient and shoved it half way down his throat. He hadn’t puked then but he’d wanted to, more out of revenge than anything else. And the thought of the words that’d follow the act of returning all the cum he’d swallowed to its rightful owner.

But he hadn’t. He’d let Ryuji fuck his mouth, whispering soft affirmations.

‘Good boy, take it.’

‘You can do it.’

‘That’s it.’

Later he’d said how he’d liked the way it made Daigo’s eyeliner run. How he’d liked seeing the strings of spit and cum the stretched between Daigo’s mouth and the head of his cock after he’d finished and pulled out of his throat.

You’ll never find another one like him.

Yeah.

Take a minute, mourn the loss.

Yeah.

Unless…

Unless?

Stiff-soled shoes power down the alley behind him. They pause - there was the hesitation - before a large hand sweeps up into the hair on the back of his head to grip it just tight enough. He pulls Daigo’s head back, leaving his throat open and bare.

Just like old times.

Daigo is still in puking position - half-bent, hands braced against the grimy wall - so Ryuji towers over him. By the hair, he pulls Daigo up, other arm wrapping around his chest. Keeping him close. Holding him tight enough for Daigo to know he hadn’t really forgotten.

Exactly like old times.

“Ya always did like to play hard-to-get, Daigo-chan.” Ryuji all but whispers the words into his skin, letting the bass of his voice rumble through his chest and into Daigo’s. “I’m real sorry I had to scare ya off earlier, but ya didn’t have to wander so far.” He sets his teeth against the skin of Daigo’s neck. Just a little pressure. Just enough to thrill.

So how are we feeling about this?

“Please -” is all Daigo can manage, and just barely.

Guess you’ll have to unpack this later.

“Damn. Missed me that much, huh? Sweet boy, ya missed my cock?” A hand travels up his chest to rest encircling his throat. No squeeze yet, but the promise is there. He places a little kiss behind Daigo’s ear.

Daigo cannot respond. He is all nerve endings.

“Answer me, pretty boy. I need to know yer in there.”

“Yes.” He chokes it out.

“Good boy. Ya wanna play a game with me?”

“Yes!” Daigo’s cock jumps at the memory of their games.

Ryuji laughs low and it’s like something soft weaving between Daigo’s knees. The hand in his hair and the other hand at his throat are all that’s holding him up. “Can’t say I haven’t missed yer pretty mouth too.” He plants another kiss. Then a few more.

This man is gonna leave you comatose, sending all the blood from your dome down below.

And it’ll have been worth it.

“Ya wanna hear how our game’s gonna go?

Answer him.

The best Daigo can do is nod.

“Thought so. Ya’ve always been such a good little slut for me.”

And you always will be.

More little kisses evolve into something harder. Ryuji works gently at his neck with teeth and lips and tongue before continuing. “For now, I’m gonna make ya cum. Just to hold ya over for a little while.” The hand leaves his neck to pull his shirt up and drag fingertips up and down his belly.

It won’t take much

“Then tomorrow, somebody’s gonna come pick ya up. Not sure when, not sure where. They’re gonna be a little rough about it, but don’t worry.” Ryuji moves on to his belt and button. “I’m not gonna let anyone hurt my little cocksleeve.” The belt is gone quickly but he takes his time with the rest, hand playing over the bulge of Daigo’s cock as he spins his story.

“They’re gonna tie ya up, just how we like it. And bring ya out to see me. We’re gonna have a great time together.” Finally, Daigo is free. Once Ryuji was done teasing him, the button and zipper came in quick succession.

And now Daigo’s breath is coming in pants, making cloud-bursts of heat in the night. Ryuji grips the base of his cock with the smallest amount of pressure. “Sound good, darlin’?”

If Daigo could produce a single coherent thought, he’d have wondered what all the theatrics were for. But he’s past that. Way past that. Half way to bliss. “Yes, sir.”

Old habits die hard.

He strokes up once, just to send a thrill down Daigo’s spine. Just to make his knees quake. “Good boy.” He keeps Daigo’s head pulled to the side to continue working at the deepening bruise at the crook of his neck. Keeps his hips pressed firmly into Daigo’s ass. Keeps a steady pace on his cock and a steady stream of sweet words in his ear.

Daigo is unravelling. At some point, the hand in his hair leaves to slip two fingers into his gasp-open mouth for him to suck on. His favorite gag.

Happy now?

Euphoric.

He makes small noises as the fingers push back into his throat - less sensitive now that it had once been - as Ryuji growls into his ear. “Ready to cum for me, sweet boy?”

No. Yes. Both. He wants it more than he’s wanted anything in a long time. Or does he want to ride this for as long as he can?

He decides to let Ryuji make the choice for him, answering only in doe eyes and a pleading look.

His pace slows. “Pretty boy can’t make up his mind?”

Daigo gives him a muffled moan.

He has stopped altogether. The hand in his mouth returns to his hair to tilt his head downward. The hand on his cock returns to neutral, resting with a firmer grip around the base. “What does my lover boy think? Does this cock look like it’s ready to cum?”

Daigo is swollen red and leaking onto the trash bags below his spread-eagle legs.

“D -”

“Yes, baby?” He gives Daigo’s cock a short squeeze. “Spit it out.”

“Daddy, please.”

He laughs. “Well, since ya asked so nicely.”

It doesn’t take much more than that.

From somewhere in his coat, Ryuji produces a few pocket tissues and cleans his hands, all while keeping Daigo propped against his chest. He returns to trailing kisses up and down Daigo’s neck. “Look at ya, bein’ so good for me.” He tosses the tissue over his shoulder. “But ya’ve made such a mess. I’d make ya lick it up if I weren’t worried about the germs.”

You would too, if he demanded it.

He knows.

Haven’t you ever heard of a refractory period?

But it feels good to want again. To ache for it.

Ryuji turns Daigo around once he’s tucked him away, put his clothes back in place. He keeps his arms slung around Daigo’s hips, hands on his ass. Daigo knows there is want for tenderness in him. Typically, it went unexpressed.

Tonight, though, Ryuji presses his forehead against Daigo’s. Kisses first the tip of his nose, then one corner of his mouth, then the other.

Then back to the nose, then each eyelid, until they were laughing again like the young idiots they once were. Like they used to.

He ends things with a kiss full on the mouth, more romantic than Daigo expected. He says his goodbyes and pulls away. “I’ll see ya tomorrow, hot stuff.”

He is at the end of the alley when he stops. Almost out of ear shot. “I’m sorry, by the way. For what happened. For all that.”

It knocks the air out of Daigo’s chest.

Right.

That.

Did you think you could just go back to the way things were?

#i have been playing a lot of disco elysium and i am a style sponge #ryudai #i can't believe im not allowed to center align

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laurelleghuleh · 3 years

Text

𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 | 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, one-shot

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6.7k

𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐨𝐧: Ao3, Wattpad

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: post-time skip, aged-up characters, implied/referenced sex, sensitive topics(?)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: This is a kind of “interactive” one-shot. At some point, you’ll find the link for the playlist I’ve created for the story. It’s not mandatory, of course. The songs are mentioned and their lyrics are quoted anyways.

I tried to keep the reader as gender-neutral as possible, I hope it works.

To be honest, I wrote the first half of this one-shot at 3 am after a very deep conversation with a friend of mine about struggling with self-love as “young adults”. It wasn’t meant to be public but I felt like sharing it. I hope this will help or at least cheer you up as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Lastly, italics when Daichi sings/for the lyrics and English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes!

Thanks for reading this, Laurelle.

---------------------------------

Taxes, laundry, rent, bills, grocery shopping, bank accounts, job interviews. These were just some of the things whose thought alone made you already shiver. Adulthood and the multiple responsibilities that had come with it scared the shit out of you, at times it completely fucked up your sleep schedule, and put your sanity at stake, but at least you weren’t alone in this. At least, you had Daichi.

You two had faced college together, one at each other’s side, and now you were again together in that new chapter of your life called adulthood.

By then, you two had been living in that little, yet cozy apartment for a few months. The Karasuno team had lent you a hand by making the move less hard, unpacking boxes and decorating the empty shelves with an unnecessary amount of frames, random objects, and souvenirs from their trips. All of this as Daichi was training at your hometown’s Police Department and as you were trying to find your place in the world, between part-time jobs and “real” job interviews.

The new routine was dull, draining, at times even overwhelming. The closer you were getting to make your dream life come true, the more your daily life felt like a nightmare. The more you felt tired, unmotivated, ultimately empty. And you couldn't help but wonder if that was really worth it anymore.

You started to slowly give up on your hobbies and passions, to spend your free time on the new couch, just spacing out, and to eventually forget about yourself. You didn’t want to sound too pathetic but life seemed to have lost its flavor. At that point, it just tasted like disinfectants and instant noodles.

Those fucking instant noodles … You thought as you looked at yourself in the mirror that evening. None of your planned outfits for that night fitted anymore, none, and at the sudden realization, that familiar smell of instant noodles rose inside your nostrils. But instant noodles weren’t really the point. Your outfits not fitting anymore wasn’t the point either. That you in that mirror was the point. That stranger. That empty shell.

The familiar boomy sound of keys twisting inside the front door’s lock, a click, and Daichi was finally home.

“I’m baaack” You heard him say - almost yell - and then saw him coming inside the kitchen to greet you.

“May I have a kiss?” He shyly asked, placing his hand on the small of your back, drawing little circles to get your attention.

“Sure,” You turned your head for a quick, soft peck on his lips, then got back to your chore.

“Still in your PJs, babe?” He commented, his voice small, clearly weakened by his long, draining day at work.

By that time, you were supposed to be ready to head out, but something in the process went wrong. On the other side of the city, a nice restaurant - highly suggested by Michimiya sometime before - was waiting for you and Daichi to arrive in twenty minutes.

“Yeah… I have to finish cooking these for tomorrow before we head out…” You murmured as your words fell down to the pot beneath you.

That wasn’t a lie, but in all fairness, you were only trying to avoid the truth. Little did you know you were about to experience what living with a future detective really meant.

Besides his professional deformation, when it came to you, Daichi never failed to sense when something was off. Even just from a slight change of your tone. He was so used to your voice that the most insignificant variation of its sound seemed to conceal a tiny, secret message only for him to decipher.

Anyways, you kept looking down, your mind somewhere else, your eyes still lost in the little fog coming from the pot. You still didn’t dare to look at him, which was rather unusual. Strange. Kind of suspicious.

Daichi rocked his head in your direction, trying to find other tangible clues for that particular case he wasn’t expecting to face once at home. Yet nothing was really out of place, except that gloomy aura all around you. Therefore, he decided to just play it cool for the moment and let you be.

Maybe he was overthinking. Maybe he was just being paranoid. The only thing that really mattered was that night to be perfect for both of you.

It wasn’t a special occasion or else, just Daichi’s first free evening after a whole month of night shifts. And in addition to that, that dinner had been meticulously planned the previous week. Nothing could have ruined it. Nothing.

Yeah, he was just being paranoid, for sure. Nothing to worry about.

Daichi moved away from you and walked towards the front door again. Then, he plugged his phone on the little speaker at the entrance and played the playlist you two loved to blast whenever you were at home, cleaning the house, or just swinging from a room to another.

And that was when everything got even more suspicious in Daichi’s perspective.

The first song came on (“Come Through and Chill” by Miguel, J.Cole, Salaam Remi ), the little bass drums slowly filling the room, vibrating from wall to wall, gradually reaching your feet through that old wooden pavement. And yet, you stayed completely still.

Suspicious .

“Everything ok?” He casually asked you from a distance, putting the phone back down on top of the speaker.

“Yeah, good, good. You?” You mumbled, trying to hide your words under the rhythm.

Even more suspicious .

It wasn’t only your voice, but your posture, your face, just your aura that seemed so… Different. Even though you two hadn’t been living together for long at that point, he could simply tell what looked ordinary and what not. You knew each other and dated since college, which at that point meant years of studying the other up close, not only as partners but firstly - and mainly - as friends. Two best friends always looking out for one another. Those had been years of sincere trust and affection.

Funny thing was that neither of you could imagine that a casual encounter in a cafè would have taken that turn. But Suga knew. And Asahi too. Everybody knew, except you two.

One morning, the vending machine of your department was out of order, and that was just the tenth curveball of that day. It’s not even thirty past eight and I already want to go back to sleep , you sighed, walking outside the campus, looking for a cafè or something.

As fate would have it, the tiny, little-known coffee shop you found right behind the corner was Asahi’s workplace, which brought both Suga and Daichi to have their breakfast there every single morning.

Your first time there, your order was mistaken with Daichi’s, one thing led to another, and after a while, you two started hanging out frequently. Then even more consistently. Then no Asahi or Suga around. No coffee shop. Study sessions at his place. Then at your place. A movie night that actually looked and felt like a proper date. And eventually, that friendship blossomed into something else, something pretty serious.

You didn’t even realize when or how that happened, it just felt right. You two didn’t even have a real “date” for when your relationship had begun. For the sake of simplicity, you both used to count from your first kiss, both aware that whatever you two shared had started even before that, even that morning in that tiny, little-known coffee shop.

That was the type of love that comes easily, without warning, silently tiptoeing into your life.

Back in your apartment, once freed from his jacket, Daichi made again his appearance at your side, now wearing a playful look and about to hit his favorite line of the lyrics. He almost made you startle.

“Hello, stranger… It's been a minute since we last kicked it” He sang and swung around you, positioning himself right behind you to wrap you in a warm hug. Then, gingerly nestling his head in the curve of your neck, he breathed against your skin, “Now that I’m home, I’m all good… ”

Bear hugs were Daichi’s thing and also your not-so-secret Achilles’ heel, for sure. So, you just leaned in his embrace and welcomed his familiar, calming scent. But still, you didn’t have the courage to face him.

Very, very suspicious .

Your oddly detached behaviors made his brow pinch and his mind wander as he left soft pecks all over your jaw and neck. No reaction , Daichi thought, taking mental notes of your actions.

At that point, he gave you one last, gentle kiss, this time on your shoulder, right where the hem of your shirt met your skin, and then silently made a step back. Daichi’s first thought was to temporarily let you be. A quick shower and a change of clothes were very much needed after that long day. He thought he still got time to unravel your mood.

Still focused on the pot, you heard him tell you, before disappearing in your bedroom, “I’ve been thinking about tonight all day, love. I literally can’t wait to try this restaurant!”

You felt a knot in your stomach.

Why was it so hard for you to simply tell him? To simply put into words how you felt? You knew he would have understood, you knew how sensitive Daichi was, especially when it came to you. But to look so needy, so lost in his eyes made you feel just weak. Not vulnerable, not emotional, just a weak person in need. And the last thing you wanted was to look or feel like a burden to Daichi. You knew how stressed and overworked he was. That was a pretty tough period for you both and you felt like you had no right to complain. Daichi never did, and all you wanted was to be as strong as he was.

It didn’t take much for Daichi to be ready, all cleaned up and dressed for the occasion. Nothing too elegant or pretentious, he was a very casual type of guy even when it came to clothes, but that was still your night. A little more effort won’t hurt , he thought as he picked his outfit, preferring a classic, white, button-up shirt to his favorite sweater - his safe choice whenever he didn’t know what to wear.

He just wanted to look good that night, to look good for your eyes only.

Right when “Sunflower” by Post Malone and Swae Lee started, Daichi’s unmistakable cologne stood above the food’s thick smell coming from the pot. You immediately turned around.

He looked handsome, as always. The view made your belly twitch again.

“Hey hon, remember that time we went to see Spiderman with Suga, Asahi, and Kyoko?” He started to speak, crossing the room with slow strides in your direction.

“You fell in love with this song on the spot. Oh my god, I think you blasted it in the car at least ten times on our way back...” He said wrapping his arms around your waist again, making you turn and trying to initiate a slow dance with you.

“I know you’re scared of the unknown, you don’t wanna be alone” He sang, “I know I always come and go,” The lyrics hitting way too close to home, “But it’s out of my control”

At that point, he held you tight, roaming his big, callous hands all over your back as he glanced at the pot from above your shoulder.

“That looks delicious, babe. Can’t wait to eat it tomorrow. I just know it tastes as good as it looks…”

There he was again, being all supportive and loving no matter what. So damn cheesy, he could have made someone sick. But not you.

You weren’t much of a chef yourself and you knew it, but you tried your best. And Daichi appreciated it a lot. He was so proud of you, always so blindly proud. He was undoubtedly a better chef than you were, but he still left you space to experiment and try out new things.

You never thought you could enjoy cooking that much, but probably Daichi being a foodie played a role in that. A foodie, well, possibly the biggest foodie you knew. The thought alone of food could make him insane, let’s say slightly irrational like he wasn’t functioning normally.

That was at the beginning when you both had all the time in the world to even plan a food competition and invite all your friends over to eat and vote for your plates. In the beginning, when that apartment’s walls were still white and bare, when the only furniture you owned was an old red couch and several boxes with all your things still packed inside. In the beginning, when there were way fewer things to care about in your daily routine.

“It’s ready, I guess. I should turn off the stove… ” You mumbled against his chest, then turned around still sweetly trapped in his embrace.

“Then you’re left in the dust… mhmhIdon’trememberthewordsmm” He kept singing behind your back, “ You’re the sunflower, I think your love would be too-”

When the little flame disappeared under the pot, a sharp sigh accidentally left your mouth.

“Daichi…” You breathed, squeezing his right hand still gently pressed on your belly.

Daichi .

You rarely called him by his first name. You’d usually go with “love” or “babe” or whatever sweet name came into your mind at that specific moment. Daichi . “Daichi” was something like a safeword, a code for “I’m dead serious right now”, “Your mum is calling” or, like this time, “Something is wrong”.

At that signal, the Karasuno’s former captain knew exactly what to do as if a ball had just flown past an invisible volleyball net right in front of him. That was just the confirmation he needed to make his move.

Living together, making a long-term relationship works, sticking together regardless, all of these for you both were based on the little things you started to learn about one another. Most of the time failing but never giving up on the other person. And this, this was one of those “little things”.

Daichi .

Wordlessly, he went straight to his phone and turned down the music at its lowest, the songs just a light, almost unperceivable background. You turned in his direction, watching him attentively, in silence, until he beckoned you to follow him.

You did as told and walked with him towards the living room, where he guided you to sit on the couch, your right hand gently secured in his.

He sat down on his heels, right in front of you, and waited, waited for you to say something, giving you all the time you needed to process your thoughts.

Minutes passed, the music still softly playing in the background.

Spendin' all my nights alone, waitin' for you to call me

You're the only one I want by my side when I fall asleep

Tell me what I'm waitin' for

I know it's hard but we need each other

(“SUGAR” by BROCKHAMPTON)

When you lifted your gaze to meet his sweet eyes, like two big, dark chocolate nuggets, you still didn’t know what to say. Automatically, his lips parted to catch your attention.

“Love,” His voice so tender it literally broke your heart to keep that facade any longer.

Your lips puckered, your nostrils widened, your eyes got unexpectedly watery until the first of many tears started to run down your face. When your head fell forwards, hiding between your hands, Daichi immediately got you. His arms circled your frame, welcoming you against his chest as you kept weeping noisily.

Daichi stayed silent, his head pressed against your shoulder, moving in sync with each of your sobs.

“Let it out, babe, don’t hold it back.”

At those words, your weeps only seemed to get worse to the point you didn’t know anymore why you were crying in the first place. Maybe you just needed to let it out, to rest, and let yourself get lost in Daichi’s embrace. His warmth felt like home and it was so comforting that after a while you finally cooled down. Nothing was wrong anymore, you were safe and sound.

“When you’re ready, I’m here to listen.” He whispered.

You nodded against his skin, then drew back, revealing your puffed and reddish face. He immediately stood up and walked towards the kitchen. Once back, he kneeled again in front of you and handed you tissues and a glass of water.

“Thanks,” You murmured and then blew your nose.

Daichi just stared at you, his eyes wandering all over your figure as you shrugged and sighed. You opened your mouth only to close it a second later. You didn’t even know where to start. Your bottom lip quivered, you felt like you’re about to cry again.

“What’s going on, love?” His voice small and tender.

You sighed again and gave a quick look to the clock behind him. It was almost time to leave. Actually, at that point, you were already late. Your eyes found his again and a thought occurred to you. He looked so happy until a moment before, singing and dancing, all dressed up, ready to leave and try that restaurant. But now there he was, all worried for you, down on his knees, not caring if that position was messing and creasing his shirt.

“It’s really nothing. Just had a bad day. I should go get-” You tried to stand up, but Daichi’s hands stopped you right there, pinning you down again.

“Are you sure, that’s just it?”

You couldn’t physically bring yourself to lie to Daichi. Not even for the smallest things. Not even for a white lie.

“To be honest, I don’t really feel like going out tonight…”

His eyebrows twitched. First clue unlocked.

“That’s fine. Let me just give them a call-”

“No, no. There’s no need. We should go anyway. It’s really nothing.”

Daichi was never really fond of you being difficult, he’d rather prefer you being straightforward. But sometimes, your pride overtook you. Nevertheless, that was not the right time to point out you were being too stubborn, so he just reassured you, saying,

“Listen, it’s up to you, babe. Your wish is my command, you know that, right?”

Daichi was always so kind. From time to time, you even believed he was way too good for you. Too good, it’s almost unfair , you thought.

“Really, it’s nothing… I’ve been thinking about tonight all day too. I couldn’t wait to finally spend some time with you…”

He giggled, your sweet tone instantly reassured him, “You know we can always stay at home and just watch a movie, right? Just tell me if you don’t feel like going out and I’ll call the restaurant right away.”

“Well, it’s not that… I… I…” You sighed. You really were being too difficult that time. “To be honest, I don’t know what-” Your voice cracked, “I really don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Daichi leaned closer and kissed your forehead, then stood up and grabbed his phone. From a distance you clearly heard him talk to someone, apologizing and saying something else you didn’t quite catch. The restaurant , you thought. You instantly walked towards him and tried to oppose, but Daichi politely hushed you and just hung up.

“Why did you do that?” You asked him.

“Cause it seems like you can’t decide right now. The restaurant can wait, really, but whatever is going on with you cannot. And now, if you want to tell me more about it I’m here, if not I’ll just let you be, or if-”

You grabbed his hands, stopping him. Your head swung from side to side as you collected your thoughts.

“It’s just that… I don’t know where to start.” You said and plopped yourself down on the couch.

He softly asked you when that started, if you remembered what little event had possibly triggered your current mood, and suddenly the right words found their way out of your mouth.

It had just been one of those everything-goes-wrong kinds of days, no rest, and too many things to do that eventually you found yourself already in front of the closet without even realizing it. Your eyes were drained and unfocused after all those hours in front of your laptop, working, sending emails, and stuff like that. Your stomach was aching and bloating after eating the previous night’s leftovers. Your legs were sore. Your mind was blank, empty, and at the same time also full of imprecise thoughts about work, what you needed to do before heading out, the dinner, the clothes, that mirror right in front of you.

You described to him this confused overwhelming sensation you had been experiencing for the previous months and all along Daichi was carefully listening to you, nodding and humming. From time to time he tried to comfort you, saying that it was quite understandable since you both started a new, complicated chapter of your lives since there were so many things to be settled and done, etc. He even apologized if he had accidentally neglected you in some way. He was so stressed and focused on work, he barely noticed what was going on with you. But you didn’t seem to listen to his words. Every single time you just replied with the same anxious thoughts you had already said before.

At some point, Daichi interrupted you, saying, “Babe, look at me and be honest,” then grabbed your hands and looked straight into your still reddish eyes, “Do you want me to listen … Or do you want some advice ?”

That was a thing Daichi had learned with time, not only from you but also from his experience as a captain. Sometimes people just need to vent, some other times to be taken by the hand and helped, but there are also other times when people may even need both.

You sighed. “Both I guess?”

He hummed and kept listening at other incoherent stuff you mumbled next about yourself, your image, your perception of yourself, “And that damn outfit! I’ve been thinking about it all day! It was my only option and it didn’t work! I looked terrible, I could barely stand my reflection in the mirror… Why do I have to feel so miserable about a damn outfit?! And then I put my PJ back on and I thought I looked like a fucking cartoon! I wanted to hide under a blanket and just disappear… I must sound delusional right now…”

New clues unlocked.

“No, absolutely, you’re not delusional, love. But... Let me ask you this. What is really bothering you? How you look or how you feel ?”

You tilted your head and pondered his question. At that moment you realized you had never thought about it that way before. How I look or how I feel… , you kept thinking for a while.

However, you still weren’t able to unravel that truth, therefore you just kept rumbling about those stupid clothes not fitting you anymore for another solid couple of minutes.

Daichi chuckled.

“That just means you need to do more shopping, babe,” He pointed out and leaned in to pepper your neck with soft kisses. You couldn’t help but giggle as his kisses alternated with random names of your favorite shops where you two could have gone to the next day to buy something. But eventually, you lightly pushed him away, not because you really wanted to but... Something wasn’t still quite right and you didn’t know what it was. That made you feel ultimately uneasy.

Daichi drew back on his heels, his hands still on your sides, sweetly caressing your hips. He stayed there and just contemplated you as your mind spun around and other vague thoughts piled up in your head.

“So, is there something else?” He softly asked.

“I guess so… It’s not about the clothes. I think it’s me. I look so different and I feel so different, I can barely recognize myself.”

“Love, you have so many things to do, I know it’s hard to find time for you to eat clean or be active. Maybe I should propose less pizza and stuff—”

“No, no, babe, it’s not you... I just feel awful about myself.”

“You feel , but you’re definitely not. I guarantee you that.” Daichi immediately comforted you.

“You know the saying, love is blind…” You tried to joke around.

“It sure is. I could love you with my eyes closed, but even with my eyes wide open, I can’t see anything wrong with you.”

Daichi’s love confessions were sappy at their core, but his voice was always so direct and honest they always sounded like facts. And they never failed to catch you off guard. Daichi used to be shy and awkward in the beginning of your relationship. He was constantly blushing hard and messing with his sentences whenever it came to talk to you. However, with time, his affection and ways started to be so sincere and straightforward you didn’t even know how to contradict him or how to even say anything back.

“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes…” His tone suddenly painted with melancholy, “Then you could see how beautiful you are, how precious, how…” He felt it too. He felt he was getting too emotional, so he tried to take the edge off, coming back to his goofy side. “No, no. Rewind. You might end up dumping me. Nah nah, not gonna happen!” He muffled, hiding his head against your belly, curling up with his torso over your lap.

You couldn’t help but laugh. You loved him so much.

“Jokes aside,” He said, lifting his head and looking up at you. “Tell me, babe, is this really such a big deal? Because if it bothers you to this point, you should think about it more carefully... Can I help you in some way?”

“Honestly, I-I don’t know how you could help me,” You confessed, “I feel like I’m not taking care of myself, but I also lack motivation to actually do something about it. It’s a dog chasing its own tail, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I get it… Well, I could encourage you, first. But then I could also help you and try to do things with you, like…” He thought about it for a couple of seconds. “What if I call Tanaka? He's a personal trainer but he also knows a lot about nutrition. He may suggest something delicious but fast and healthy for us to cook. It could be beneficial for both of us. We have been literally eating our stress away recently. You know what, I feel bloated too…” Daichi added and then proceeded to touch his tummy.

You lightly pushed him again and started to shower him with compliments. You couldn’t wrap your mind around the fact that Daichi could ever possibly be insecure about himself. He was… Daichi. He was just perfect.

He smirked at your reaction and got closer to shut your mouth with a sudden, deep kiss.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He whispered, just an inch away from your lips.

“Sure, what is it?” You said almost laughing. A secret?

“Ok, look at my pants,” Daichi said, drawing back until he stood up, right in front of you.

“Yeah, I’m looking at them and they look really good on you-” You started to say and tried to make him spin around to point out how good he looked in those dark pants. That was actually your favorite pair, you loved the way they highlighted his muscular legs, how- But he stopped you right there.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ok, thanks, but have you noticed that I’m not wearing any belt? And actually haven’t worn one in a while?”

You frowned. Where is he getting at?

“And you know why? I don’t really need one anymore. These pants stay up regardless,” Daichi confessed, giggling, “What I mean is… Look, you still like how they fit me. I still like how they fit me. I just know that you would like them even in another size. I would like them as well.”

You just stared at him, quietly pondering his words.

“Anyways, the pants are not the real point. These are just pants. Those things that didn’t fit you aren’t the real point either. You see what I’m trying to tell you?”

You did. You got what he meant, but you were still doubting yourself somehow. Because, in your mind, not fitting your old clothes was just the result of something that slipped out of your hands as you struggled to take care of anything else, except yourself. It wasn’t about your weight or the clothes, it was about losing track of yourself in the process.

“You think I’m perfect while I may, well, I am certainly not. Same goes for you. None of us is perfect, never been, never will. We are just us,” He got closer and sweetly brushed your hair behind your ears, “But for me, in my eyes, you are. And apparently, I’m too in yours. And that’s all that matters.”

Again, just straight facts.

Also, whenever he gave you one of his motivational speeches, he really looked like a captain. You could vividly picture the scene in your head, his teammates carefully listening to him, hanging off his words, right before an important match or even just a regular training session.

“I know it’s extremely cheesy to hear, but it’s also the truth. You’re perfect just the way you are and you’ll always be to me…” His voice small as he kneeled again in front of you. “Even now. Even if you feel lost. The you you’re looking for is still there, it’s not going anywhere. You just need some time and patience to find yourself again.”

You immediately cupped his face, about to tell him something, but before you could spell a single word, he whispered,

“But… But if this is a problem, something you want to change or improve, something you need some help with, then let’s do it, let’s do it together. No. Better. Let’s do it right now!”

Daichi immediately stood up and ran back to the kitchen, where you used to keep your little notebook. Once back, armed with a pen and unmovable willpower, he sat down again and opened the agenda on your lap. Going through your schedule, he noticed how packed it was, pages and pages filled with appointments and notes, but that didn’t scare him.

“Mmm… So, here’s the plan. Our lunch breaks on Monday and Friday look pretty long. We could… Meet at the park. You know, the one right after the supermarket, down the street-”

You nodded, showing him you were following him.

“We could jog a little and then eat something together! That way we’d see each other, have some fun and do something good for our health too… I know jogging doesn’t actually sound much fun, but I swear we’ll have a good time, babe. What do you think?”

Your lips curled upwards into a soft, little half-moon. You couldn’t say no to that.

“Sounds like a plan…” You simply commented.

He looked relieved and then added, “Also, remember that lunch at my mum’s next Sunday? Why don’t we just skip it and go somewhere fancy, like a spa-”

“But we promised-” You tried to object.

“Babe, I know, I know, but we can go some other time. She’ll understand.”

“Okay…”

“It’ll be beneficial for both of us, for real. To be honest, I think I’m this close to a breakdown too,” He laughed.

“You’re right, we should definitely go… You know, I was also thinking about joining some sort of club. I feel like I don't have a hobby or a passion anymore. It’s always work, work, work, the apartment, work, work, work. I feel so… Arid? Mentally. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah… Me too, I was thinking the same exact thing this morning actually… Maybe I should join a volleyball team again. Nothing serious but like a team to play with, just once in a while-”

Your eyes widened, “Oh God! Yes! Absolutely! You should definitely do that, love!”

Daichi nervously chuckled. He wasn’t expecting such an enthusiastic and energetic reaction from you, not after having seen you so blue and distant since he had come back home.

You loved seeing him playing volleyball. You still remembered vividly the times you used to sneak a peek at his practice and matches during college. The first time you saw him playing, all sweat and absorbed in the game, you did a double-take. He looked so hot.

“Alrighty, I’ll definitely think about it… Don’t worry, love, we’ll figure something out.”

“As we always did…” You added, shyly smiling at him.

That situation made you wonder. Life could be hard at times, but if you had the right people around you to rely on, to fight with, or simply talk to, it didn’t seem like that tough anymore.

“Yeah…” He smiled back and instinctively leaned forward to hug you tightly as you welcomed his frame against your chest.

After a few silent minutes, you muffled against his shoulder, “Thank you… I don’t even know how to tell you how thankful I am right now… ”

And in all fairness, there wasn’t much else to add.

“You could start by being less hard on yourself, love,” Daichi said, still pressed against you, “You’re doing so great…”

“You’re way too good to me.” You murmured back, your voice slightly above a whisper.

At your words, he brushed his head from side to side against your shoulder, silently disagreeing with your affirmation. He was just as good to you as you deserved.

Right at that moment, “Best Part” by Daniel Caesar and H.E.R. came on and Daichi thought that there couldn't have been a better time than that for that specific song to start.

He drew back from your hug and guided you to stand up with him, then walked backward to reach the center of the living room, his eyes still fixed on you.

“Siri, turn up the volume!” He ordered his phone to do as he took you in his arms.

You simply stared at him and followed his actions, like a puppet under his spell. His arms welcomed your figure and your fingers locked, your two bodies perfectly molded one against the other as you slow-danced to the rhythm, allowing yourself to utterly enjoy that moment.

A strange feeling warmed your belly, like an overwhelming wave of happiness was overtaking all your senses. Your mouth instinctively opened to shower Daichi with random compliments, words of gratitude, and all sorts of sweet nothings. He loved to be praised by you but after a while he tried to playfully hush you, holding you even tighter and whispered next to your ear a line of that song that seemed to be written right for you. Better, right for him to sing it for you.

“I just wanna see how beautiful you are, you know that I see it, I know you're a star. Where you go I follow, no matter how far. If life is a movie, oh you're the best part…”

The music eventually faded and an hour later you and Daichi were once again in your bed, curled up in your sheets, as you leafed through Netflix’s catalog, fruitlessly. In the end, you just end up cuddling and ultimately dozing off. Nothing special had happened that night, but you felt so restored, at peace, as if everything was completely fine again.

When you woke up the morning after, Daichi was already gone. You were used to this too. No night shifts meant early shifts. But this also had its perks, like the tiny heart-shaped post-it notes he liked to leave in the bathroom for you to read them as you washed your face or brushed your teeth. The breakfast? Ready on the kitchen counter, another post-it note on top of it. And then another one, on the front door, “I can’t wait to see you at lunch <3”

At noon, you two met up at the park as planned. A little warm-up under Daichi’s careful instructions and then you were ready to start. Just a casual jog, nothing too demanding, as you enjoyed the fresh air and the good company of that day.

During the whole run, Daichi kept encouraging you like a real captain and a loyal partner would do, saying that you were doing great, that you looked very good in those leggings, that you were half done at that point, and then that you could do it, you were almost at the end at that point.

“The last lap, babe! We’re almost done!” Daichi shouted, turned his head in your direction, and gave you a wide, shining smile.

“I-I think I’m done for today…” You panted as you struggled to keep up with his pace.

“Six more minutes and we’re done! C’mon! Don’t give up!” He incited but you soon waved the white flag, signaling him your surrender.

Daichi halted and got closer to you. A strange, gloomy aura suddenly spread all around him. A mischievous grin appeared on his face right when he whispered, an inch away from your sweaty face,

“Quitters don’t get their prize, you know that?”

Your breath almost failed you, when you told him, “Yeah, yeah, you can eat my lunch, I don’t want it anymore…”

But apparently, Daichi had another prize in his mind, another type of meal .

“Mmmh, that’s not the reward I was planning to give you…” His voice sounded dangerously seductive for the location you two were at the moment. Your eyes widened at the sudden realization.

His hands slowly roamed from your hands to your shoulders, then cupped your cheeks. His tone got back to normal when he playfully squeezed your face and said, “Six minutes!”

Six minutes passed and the jog was finally over. A little picnic at the park, a quick shower together at home, and then you were good to go. Your afternoon’s tasks awaited you.

That evening Tanaka and Kyoko joined you for dinner. They were both more than happy to give you some advice, to recommend easy and healthy recipes, and to see how the apartment had changed since their last visit.

Later that night, you and Daichi were again in your bed, tired but definitely satisfied. Your back was pressed against his broad chest, your body secured in his warm embrace, your thoughts were quiet, both your body and mind at peace.

You had worked, you had jogged, you had had some fun with Daichi at the park, you had also found some time to finish that book you had forgotten on your desk. Well, actually, Daichi had been texting you during the whole afternoon to remind you to take some breaks from time to time, to have a snack or read something. The dinner with Tanaka and Kyoko had cheered you up more than planned and that full, yet satisfying day was finally over.

You were still lost in your thoughts when you felt Daichi snuggle up, holding you even tighter than before. His left arm was wrapped around your figure while the right one was on top of yours, his fingers gently rubbing your hand, then your wrist and forearm, drawing imaginary patterns all over your skin. As he got closer, ultimately closing that tiny gap between you two, his head found the crook of your neck and gently nestled in it. Then he asked you, his voice hoarse with weariness,

“So? About the jog, did you like it?”

“Weeeell, let’s say that I liked it but mainly because we did it together.” You confessed, “Would I do it alone? I don’t know… Maybe?”

“Fair enough,” He replied and placed a sloppy kiss on your shoulder, his fingers still loosely tracing your arm. Then there was silence, the room was from time to time filled only with the muffled sound of those soft pecks he kept on leaving on your skin.

“You know,” Daichi whispered at some point, between a kiss and another, “Jogging is not the only option…” He paused to clear his throat, “There are other types of activities that we could do…” Another kiss, his breath warm against your neck, his tone husky with desire when he added, “That we could do indoor…”

#daichi x you #daichi x reader #daichi headcanon #daichi sawamura #daddy daichi #haikyuu oneshot #one shot #read on ao3 #read on wattpad #spotify #i wrote this at 3am #sawamura daichi x reader #sawamura daichi #fluff

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years

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Chapter 2 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

Chapter Two

~|Emily Fox|~

Tuesday mornings are somehow the worst. I don’t know if it’s because I spent too long at the Music Store cleaning up and trying to forget about the cute guy with the pretty eyes, or if it’s because the weekend is so freaking far, although closer than it was yesterday. “Hey, Muffin, time to get up. You got to get to school,” Uncle Mitch’s voice wakes me up that morning a second before my alarm goes off. I hate him for always coming in to wake me when I’ve got my alarm set for 7. “Thanks, Uncle Mitch. I’ll be down in a couple minutes,” I tell him with one eye open. “Promise me?” I open my other eye too, only to find him looking at me with that worried look in his eyes. The one that he always has when he thinks I’m nearing rock bottom again. “Promise,” I reply and wink at him to reassure him I’m fine. “Can you go downstairs and make me some coffee, please?” He nods his head curtly and turns on his heel to leave my bedroom, so I can get ready and he can go make some coffee. Throwing my blankets off me, I turn on some music and start getting ready whilst jamming to all the tunes in my music library. It takes me about fifteen minutes until I’m dancing down to the kitchen where Uncle Mitch hands me a coffee and an already buttered toast. “I’m glad to see you dancing again,” he tells me with a smile before sipping from his own coffee. There’s a small smile tugging at his lips, showing his pride a little. “Have you been writing again too?” I shake my head in response. “I mean, I do have like a small verse and a chorus for a song, but I’m really stuck.” Mitch presses his lips together into a somewhat sympathetic smile. I shrug. “I’m sure it’ll come back at some point. Who knows where I’ll get some inspiration.” I finish my toast and coffee quickly, kiss Uncle Mitch on the cheek before grabbing my backpack and heading out the door to school where I meet up with Madison. “Hey Hot Mama!” her voice chimes through the hallway as I’m at my locker unpacking and packing books. “Hey, Chica!” I greet back. “How was work yesterday? Haven’t heard from you at all.” I close my locker, shoulder my backpack and follow her down the hall to our first class of today. “Locked up pretty late last night. Had some of the worst customers ever. First a Karen thinking she knew more about bass guitars than me. Then this dude that thought he was just so slick. It was disgusting. Such a douchebag.” “I sometimes wonder why you still work there,” she shakes her head disapprovingly. “Because I need to pay tuition for the college I want to go to, Mads. Not everyone can get a scholarship.” Madison has received a scholarship from her number one college she’d wanted to go to since she was ten. Mostly because her parents want her to go there, but it’s been planted in her brain ever since then and it hasn’t changed. Especially not when she’d received the message she was going to be able to go on a scholarship. “I know, Ems,” she rolls her eyes at me, knowing how lucky she is, “But I mean, you still could work somewhere else?” I halt in the middle of the hallway, causing another student who was walking behind me to bump into me. I mutter a sorry before turning back to Madison. “There’s nothing I’m better at or feel more at ease than between music instruments, Mads. You of all people should know that.” She tuts then nods her head in agreement. “I know, I know…” she links her arm with mine, “But still… You could have a different job if you wanted to.” She wiggles her eyebrows and I know exactly what she means. However, I don’t answer because as much as I know what she means, she knows my answer without me having to say anything. And that’s how we leave things before going to class. Madison is a sweetheart. We’ve known each other since Kindergarten and there’s no one else I’d rather spill all my secrets to or giggle uncontrollably with when Uncle Mitch says something weird or the Queen Bee, Brianna, says something incredibly dumb. She’s been my rock with Uncle Robert’s death, telling her mother to send me and Uncle Mitch food when we didn’t feel like cooking. She’s listened to my endless rants about Karens and douchebags at the shop, and my heart-wrecking cries when Jake broke up with me last year. Not only that, she believes I can do anything I set my mind to, especially become a successful singer-songwriter. Madison is the only person on this planet I truly need. Madison, Uncle Mitch and Uncle Robert, were he still alive. Nothing more, nothing less. With all of that running through my mind – along with the cute douchebag from the Music Store – I don’t even notice where I’m walking until I’m bumping right into someone. “Oof! Sorry! I—” When I look up, I realize I don’t even want to apologize. I’ve apologized to him more than once and for all the wrong reasons. “Jake.” My apologetic expression changes to a what I hope would be a scowl. Although, let’s be honest, when bumping into an ex-boyfriend you used to love with all your heart, your broken heart still does a little leap. “Emily, hey!” he greets and a smile shines through. I’m not going to lie, I kind of missed that smile. Who wouldn’t miss those perfect plump lips curling up into a perfect smile? Dammit, Emily Fox, focus. Remember this boy broke your heart into a thousand more pieces when it was already broken. “What do you want?” I ask bitterly. “Brianna and I are throwing a party at my place tonight, if you’d like to come…” he trails off at the end, scratching the back of his neck, knowing all-too-well I wouldn’t for any money of the world go to a party thrown by Brianna and Jake. I’d much rather die. “I have to work,” I tell him simply, which is not a lie. Ash asked to close tonight. “Oh, okay…” he trails off again. “Anything else?” I raise an eyebrow at him, hoping, praying, wishing, I can get out of this situation as soon as possible. He opens his mouth to say something, and I nearly want to punch it close, but I refrain from doing so, especially when he closes his mouth again. “No, I’m sorry for bothering you…” He looks more regretful than he did when he broke up with me. “Uhm… I’ll see you around, I guess.” “Yeah,” I simply say and watch him as he walks away from me. There’s nothing I hate more than seeing Jake in the hallway. It’s just another painful reminder of what we were and were not. Just another painful reminder of the worst year of my life thus far.

After school, Madison and I head to the Music Store together. She needs to pick up some groceries from the store on the other side of the street, so she figured she’d walk me to work. While she talks the entire walk there, I keep thinking about Jake, but mostly about the cute douchebag from yesterday, wondering if he’d come back today. He did seem persistent. “See you tomorrow, Ems,” Madison says, waving at me as I enter the store. “See ya, Mads!” I shout back before closing the door behind me, the bell ringing overhead. “Thanks so much for closing up today, Emily,” Ash says first thing when she sees me. “Oh, that’s no problem.” “Just finish up with the last couple of customers and then sweep and sort the cash register.” I nod my head, understanding every single one of my task at hand today. While customers roam around the store, I grab my textbook English and finish up the exercise we’d started making in class, but none of us finished. Someone’ll ask me if they need me or ring the bell obnoxiously if they want to pay. “Hey, could you help me out with something?” I look up from my book to find a tall blonde guy in front of me. His hair falls in swoops, framing his face nicely. The kindest eyes I ever did see. He looks a bit nervous too, which makes me wonder why. “Sure, what can I help you with?” I move from behind the counter as he leads me towards the drum section. “I’m looking for drumsticks, but I can’t seem to find them…” he tells me, fidgeting with his jacket. I stare at him for a moment and blink a couple of times. “Oh, you won’t find them here, sweetie. They’re over there!” I point to another side of the store. “I’ll show you,” I beckon him with my finger and, with him in tow, make my way over to where we keep our drumsticks and other accessories for the music instruments. ��Here they are!” I point to the racks filled with different kind of drumsticks. The boy scans the area and then picks out a pair he likes best. “Thank you,” he says with the sweetest smile. “So, you’re a drummer,” I state more than ask as we both make our way back to the cash register. “Yep, I’m in a band with my two best friends. Sunset Curve, we’ve been playing bars in Los Angeles for a while now, but don’t seem to be too lucky to find some sort of manager that could help us out, you know?” I make a mental note to check out Sunset Curve, and simply nod my head while putting his purchase into the register. “19 bucks please,” I tell him with a smile. “I hope luck is on your side soon…” I trail off, realizing I don’t know his name. “Owen,” he says as if reading my mind. He hands me the nineteen bucks in cash. “Emily,” I introduce myself, “Hey, if you want, our Music Store holds open mic nights on Saturdays, once a month or something, if you ever want to bring your band down here? Music execs scout out here sometimes too.” Owen’s smile widens, making my heart swell with happiness. “Thanks, I’ll remember that.” He taps the counter once, then says, “And thanks for helping me find these.” He holds the drumsticks up so I can see. “You’re very welcome. I’ll see you around, Owen.” “Yeah, see you around, Emily.” He’s definitely gay. But the sweetest guy that’s ever walked into the Music Store in forever. He was so nervous and fidgety; it was kind of endearing. What a kind soul. I hope he gets what he’s wishing for.

It finally starts to slow down in The Music store around half past six, just before closing time. So, I begin to sort out the sheet music that’s been scattered around by musicians. I’d almost even forgotten about Cute Douchebag until the bell over the door rings and he’s walked in. I look up with a smile at first, thinking it’ll be the last paying customer of the day, wanting to greet them. But when I see him with his cute-ass beanie and his adorable brown eyes and his sweet smile, the smile falters.

“Make it quick, I’m about to close up.” I turn around to head to where the sheets are supposed to go. It’s silent for a moment until I hear him cough behind me.

“Can you ring these up for me, please?” he asks, handing me a pack of guitar picks. A little confused about his sudden change of behavior, I nod my head slowly and put them into the cash register.

“11 dollars 96, please.” Our eyes meet for a second when he gives me the money, and a jolt rushes through my entire body. I’ve never seen eyes so vivid and full of color. Everyone always says brown eyes are boring. But his. His aren’t. His are near gold.

Focus, Emily.

“Hey, would you mind if I played here for a while? My parents are kind of being jerks and I kind of have to escape, if you know what I mean…” he trails off near the end, our eye contact breaking as he casts his gaze to the floor.

“Uhm, yeah, sure. Just stay out of my way as I clean up.” He shoots me a thankful smile before scooting over to the guitars and picking out his favorite to play on. I need a moment to regain my composure before I can actually begin cleaning up.

And that’s how the Cute Douchebag and I spent our evening together. With his sweet melody flowing throughout the store as I clean up and count the money in the register.

“You done yet?” I ask him once I’ve grabbed my backpack and the keys to lock up. The boy looks up at me again with those golden eyes of his, making my knees feel weak. Why does he have this effect on me? This doesn’t make any sense. He should repulse me by the way he acted the other day, not make me feel weak in the knees. Nothing makes sense anymore.

“Uhm, sure yeah.” He gets up and puts the guitar back in its place before walking over to the door with me. “My name’s Charlie, by the way,” he tells me when he turns once he’s outside on the street.

“I don’t care,” I lie.

“I’m pretty sure you do, Emily.” Him knowing my name catches me off guard for a moment and not even just because it’s creepy that he knows it, but because it weirdly sounds good rolling off his lips.

“What makes you so sure of that, Charles?” I notice his full name – if that’s his full name – catches him off guard too. “That’s what I thought. Now, please, leave, so I can have a pleasant rest of the night.” He raises his eyebrow, seeing right through me. I know it. He knows it. But he still turns and leaves with that obnoxious beautiful smirk of his.

I hate that he makes me feel this way.

Taglist: @parkeret

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#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #charlie gillespie #jeremy shada #owen joyner #madison reyes #charlie x oc #oc emily fox #luke patterson #reggie jatp #alex jatp #julie molina

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 3 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid 192

192

Holding Keith’s hand in public felt nice. Walking from the hotel to the restaurant, Lance found himself watching families of all types as they walked. He couldn’t help it. A smile coming to his lips as he watched kids nag their parents, or listened to them as they played. His hand sitting on his stomach while his mind substituted the kids for their twins, and the parents as Keith. Keith would be such a good dad. He absolutely knew that for certain. He’d worried when Keith had spent most of the night sleepless, the walk seeming to invigorate him as it wore away Keith’s energy. Keith needed his coffee pronto, lest a server cop his boyfriend’s uncaffeinated anger loaf rage.

Leading Keith into the restaurant, it had a kind of rustic charm. Heavy oak logs made the walls, with all kinds of memorabilia stuck to the walls, including a giant stuffed fish with a plaque that red “Billy Bass”. It appealed to his tacky side in all the right ways. Sending Keith to find a seat, his boyfriend slouched off to throw himself into the only available booth. Lance giving a shake of his head affectionately. He really loved that cranky werewolf. Waddling over to the counter, he forced himself to remember to look and act like a girl. Keith didn’t know he was terrified of the same kind of comments made at the petting zoo being repeated. This trip had to go as well and as smoothly as it could. Picking up the menu, he knew instantly he wanted more than pancakes. Everything smelt vaguely appealing, and Keith would eat like there was no tomorrow.

“What can I do you for, darling?”

Jumping at being unexpectedly talked to, the woman behind the counter cackled at him

“Sorry, love! I didn’t think you’d be lost in thought over a menu”

Lance flashed a smile, careful of his teeth. He kind of wished he’d worn a set of glasses. The more he stood in the restaurant, the more he heard and the bigger the world suddenly seemed to be

“Sorry, everything sounds so good I’m not sure where to begin”

The woman chuckled

“I remember those feelings. How many you got in there?”

“Two. I guess I do look pretty big”

“And carrying low, you’ll be in labour no time, love. Now. What do think?”

No. Nope. No labour for him. Not unless he was comfortably set up at VOLTRON... he’d hold his legs together for as long as possible if their twins dared to think of coming this soon

“I think I’m famished. Can I please order two sets of pancakes and two sets of the bacon breakfasts? Ooooh, and I’ll grab a fruit salad, two of the largest coffees you have, aaaand... I think I’ll have a green tea latte... and a fruit salad. Yeah, that’s all, thank you... oh! Do you guys have soy milk? I don’t want to gas my boyfriend”

The woman behind the counter ogled him fo a moment, shaking her head and laughing again

“I don’t know where you’re going to fit all that... We have soy, almond, and regular. None of that skin stuff”

Lance blushed. He couldn’t help that he didn’t exactly know what he felt like, but food seemed like an amazing idea

“It’s for me and my partner. Soy will be fine, thanks”

The woman slapped his arm gently with the back of her hand

“I know that, love. Just an old woman teasing”

“You don’t look that old”

She looked about the age he should look... her name tag reading “Dae”, the white tag almost lost in the red of her bright red shirt

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day. Now, darling, cash or card?”

“Card please”

The woman rang up there largish breakfast bill. Lance paying as he was trapped into small talk

“So, love. Are you here for our Easter markets? Or you one of those passing through?”

“Oh, my boyfriend and I are spending a few days here. We’re meeting up with some friends”

The woman printed him a receipt without him asking

“I’m sure you’ll find this quite boring compared with the cities around here, but we have own charm. Now, can I get a name for this order?”

He’d been prepared for that. He’d made kind of a mental story for himself. He and his photographer boyfriend were driving up, stopping in small towns as Keith built up a portfolio in the hopes of turning to selling prints online

“Lancella... my, uh, parents were hoping for a boy”

“I’m sure they love you at any rate. We can’t help our names. You go take a load off and I’ll bring your coffee over. Take my advice, love, take a look at the markets while you’re here. They really are something else”

“Awesome. We might just take your advice. Thank you”

Siding, barely, into the booth opposite Keith, Keith was glaring at the menu in his hands. Tugging it free, his boyfriend huffed as Lance set the menu back into its holder

“Your coffee’s coming”

“Good”

Keith should have perked up at the thought of coffee. The scent was strong enough that Lance’s stomach was threatening to turn traitor right there at the booth

“Babe?”

“It’s nothing. You looked like you were having a good conversation, Lancella”

Lance rolled his eyes at the name

“I’m a simple man. The best lies have a kernel of truth in them”

“It pisses me off that you have to lie. You’re you. If people don’t like that, they can go play in traffic”

There was his grumpy little anger loaf. He’d also realised something that was likely to make Keith grumpier

“You can’t just put them in traffic. You know, we’re going to be in trouble”

Keith sighed deeply

“What for now?”

“I’m starving... and all that food has to come back up. Plus, apparently I’m going to pop soon”

Scowling at him, Keith sat back and crossed his arms. His voice firm and joke free

“There’s no way you’re allowed to even think about giving birth in this crappy town. Don’t even think about going into labour”

Sometimes it was scary how in tune they were. He didn’t want to give birth here, yet he couldn’t hate this town

“I don’t know. This town isn’t that crappy. This is the town you were born in and you’re not crappy. Maybe crabby... but not crappy”

“You’re fucking hilarious”

Lance shot his boyfriend double finger guns

“I try. But seriously, I’m starving...”

He’d also forgotten to do his shots before leaving the hotel room. Keith coming out with the bath mat around his waist had driven away the thought. His boyfriend hadn’t questioned why he’d packed heavier than usual. There was a whole suitcase of towels and bedding, waiting to be unpacked. His new plan was that after breakfast they’d unpack a little more, and he’d look up the directions to the cemetery where Keith’s dad was buried. The vampire knew his own pain from having now lost both his parents, yet that was nothing compared to Keith losing his dad at such a young age. Making the comparison seemed really shitty and like it lorded the fact Lance had had his parents for so long, that’s why he’d never say it out loud.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the coffee and the latte. Keith sliding both mugs towards him as Lance thanked “Dae”. Wrapping his hands around his cold drink, there was kind of a happy peacefulness as Keith took his first sip of coffee. This was nice. Them having no real schedule. Not rushing around. Kind of on a date, but not at the same time...

“Stop staring”

Chuckling, Lance moved his hand up to take the straw between his fingers, stirring his latte as continued to stare

“What are you going to do if I don’t?”

Kicking him under the table, that was Keith’s great comeback

“Really, babe?”

“Fuck you. Fight me”

It’d be soon long since he’d heard that one. The second they found out he was carrying, he had to behave himself and training went out the window

“I could beat you, but we both know you’d liked it”

Delivering the words slowly and purposely, Lance succeeded in making Keith choke on his coffee. Placing the mug down, his boyfriend coughed into his hand

“Fuuuuck...”

“Still want to fight me?”

“Keep this up and I’ll beat your arse so hard you won’t be able to walk for a month”

“Do you promise?”

On the back of choking on his coffee, Keith choked on air. His hand fanning his face as he shook his head

“You deserve to be punched in the dick for that”

“Nah. You love me too much for that”

“God. I fucked that one up”

Lance knew Keith was teasing, yet he felt himself automatically tear up. Apparently he could dish it, but his ego was too much of a diva to take it. Dropping his gaze to his drink, he felt awful for how he’d reacted

“Babe?”

“It’s nothing”

“You know I love you, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I guess my hormones are being silly. It’s ridiculous”

Keith wisely decided not to agree with him, changing the topic

“What did you order?”

Raising his head again, Lance shot him that fake smile that hadn’t come out in so long that he wasn’t sure he was doing it right

“Pancakes. Eggs, tomatoes, bacon, sausages, and fried onion. Coffee for you. Tea for me, and fruit salad”

“You think that’s enough?”

Now he was feeling self conscious over how much he wanted to scarf down his food

“I figured you’d eat what I didn’t...”

Keith playfully kicked him under the table again

“Great. Now I’m the garbage disposal unit”

Shit. Why had his mood plummeted so much? Now it had, his ego was getting riled up. He was starting to feel vulnerable over being pregnant and into a strange place, where people he didn’t know could easily target him, or Keith. He couldn’t scent anyone like them in the place, yet he’d been so care free when they’d come in, he hadn’t thought to. The sudden shift to extreme vulnerability by his ego threw him off. They were a goddamn vampire. Had he been so inclined, he could easily take every single human on in the restaurant... Why was he suddenly so spineless? And why was his ego not propping his mood up with its usual douche attitude.

“Babe, you’ve gone pale. And you’re shaking. What’s wrong?”

He was shaking? He hadn’t noticed...

“Sorry. My ego... just went funny...”

Keith stared at him in confusion

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know...”

He didn’t know. Was it not sure keith could protect them? No. Keith could and would go beyond them. Then why did it want him to run? All he wanted was a nice breakfast with Keith, so Keith wouldn’t be so stressed about what was to come...

Leaning across the table, Keith’s confusion grew. Cocking his head, he drew back slowly

“You feel like... you’re pushing everything away. If there’s something wrong...”

“I don’t know what’s wrong. I’m sorry”

Trying to let his ego flare a little, the instinct to run grew with it. Lance quick to force it back down. Maybe he’d been too focused on being home of late? No one had made any kind of threat towards him

“If you’re not feeling well, we can go back to the room”

“That’s not it. All of a sudden I got a spike of fear and I’m not sure why”

Keith pursed his lips, shook his head, then suddenly decided to move to sit next to Lance, a little too fast for Lance’s liking. Taking his hand in his, his boyfriend squeezed softly

“You don’t need to be scared”

Having Keith close should have calmed him, yet the spike of fear had spiked his anxiety over not knowing why he was kind of internally freaking out

“I know. All I wanted was a nice breakfast”

“We can still have a nice breakfast...”

“I’m so sorry. I know you’re stressing badly. This has to be so much all at once”

The restaurant was loud, despite it being breakfast time. Too many people seemed way too awake

“The glasses help. Do you want them?”

Yes. And ear plugs. Someone dropped something in the kitchen, Lance flinching at the sound as he shook his head

“No. No... it’s okay. I’ve been doing this longer than you have”

“Are you sure?”

“Babe, I’ll be okay. It’s just weird... I don’t smell anything... bad. Maybe I’ve spent too much time hermitting”

“Or maybe people just suck?”

“Careful, babe. Your grump’s showing”

Keith huffed with a pout

“I’m not being grumpy”

“Fine, your lack of people love is showing. I hope breakfast doesn’t take too long”

“You need to eat more. You’re all skin and bones”

Lance’s ego chose to take the wrong way. He ate. Keith knew he ate. He couldn’t bring Keith’s mood down any further

“I’m going to. Your babies are demanding it”

Bring their hands to Lance’s stomach, Keith rested them there

“Already causing so much trouble. You two better give your dad a break”

“That’d be nice. I think the first thing they’re getting when they’re old enough is a trampoline”

“Why do I feel like you’re the one who’s going to be spending more time on it than them?”

“Because it’s nice to lay out under the stars?”

They hadn’t done that in so long... Maybe they’d get a chance while they were here?

“I wonder what sex would be like?”

And there Keith went stating the real reason he supported getting their kids a trampoline

“I’m not conceiving any future siblings on a trampoline”

Keith bumped his shoulder lightly

“There goes that idea...”

“I’m going to put you in a time out if you don’t get your mind out of the gutter”

“But without the gutter, my mind would be homeless”

Without missing a beat, the werewolf had him groaning

“Who taught you that one? They need to be shot”

Keith grinned, Lance kind of envious that no matter how upset Keith was internally, he was keeping his ego well under control. He should be proud. No. He was proud. He just wished his would perk back up

“Pretty sure I learned that from you”

Great. He couldn’t exactly shoot himself... though he’d definitely shot himself in the foot in the metaphoric sense

“You don’t want to listen to me. I’m going crazy in my old age”

“You’re not even that old”

“Older than you”

Keith put on that bad southern drawl that never failed to work on him

“And twice as pretty. A pretty little thing like you should be careful. A big bad wolf might just gobble you up”

“Nah, my boyfriend takes care of all the scary things out there”

“I could take him. They don’t call me the Mullet for nothin’”

Oh lord. That was terrible. That was terrible and Keith knew it was terrible

“Is it because you’re kinda fishy? A bit limp all dead eyed?”

“Why, miss. I’ve been told I’ve got the perdiest eyes around”

Lance let out a long groan of defeat. He didn’t feel safe, and as much as he didn’t want to feel amused, Keith’s stupidity was kind of turning his frown upside down

“Alright. No more. I get it”

“Do you feel any better?”

No...

“Yeah. I’m still staving, though”

“It won’t be too much longer... hopefully”

Keith kept a careful eye on Lance once their breakfast finally arrived. Lance noticing, and responding by eating despite the lack of interest in the pancakes he’d wanted. It was hard to pretend to be happy. Everything felt too much for him, and having it all feel too much for Lance threw him.

Holding it together, the walk back to the hotel was brisk. Lance tried to shake him off to go to the bathroom alone, but Keith wasn’t having it. As Lance “threw” himself down to vomit, he slipped behind him, tugging off the annoying wig so he could rest his chin on Lance’s shoulder. His boyfriend was shaking, his skin felt a little colder than its above barely warm natural state. Having played breakfast over in his mind, he still didn’t know why Lance had spooked, or why his ego had drawn in. The only thing he could think of was that that woman’s words brought up Lance’s fear of giving birth soon. No one had said anything to his precious mate. No one had barely looked their way. No. Everyone else was too busy fucking chewing like a herd of cows. The noise infuriating now he’d noticed.

Staying with Lance until his stomach settled, his boyfriend wobbled on his feet as he stood. Keith had spent the time giving Lance belly rubs and trying smother him in his scent to calm him down. His own ego was rattled by their mates strange actions, making it almost mad at a situation where no one was to blame. Rinsing his mouth out, Lance stared at him in the mirror. He looked exhausted

“I’m sorry”

No. Lance had nothing to be sorry for

“Babe. Hey, it happens”

“I’m supposed to be the one in control here... and I freaked out for no real reason”

“It’s okay”

Lance didn’t know he was semi echoing Keith’s earlier movement as he kicked the basin cabinet lightly

“No. No it’s not. You’re stressed. You’re in a new environment. You’re being forced to go out with me when I look like this. And I couldn’t even keep my shit together long enough to enjoy being out to breakfast with you. It’s fucking pathetic. I should be past all this shit”

“You’re overthinking things again”

Sighing deeply, Lance went to grab his toothbrush out the toilet bag, only to knock the contents out. Sensing the impending tears, he turned his boyfriend towards him, gathering him against him

“Babe. Hey. It’s okay. I’m not mad and you haven’t done anything wrong”

Lance shook his head again

“I’m sorry... God. I feel so fucking incompetent”

Lance wasn’t incompetent. Keith ego saddened to hear their mate talk about himself like that. He wanted to make Lance smile again

“You’re not. Didn’t Dae say something about a fair?”

Again, Lance shook his head

“Sorry... I think I want to lay down for a bit... and I really need to pee. Can... can you get the blankets out the suitcase? They’re in the black one”

“And you’ll be okay?”

“I’m going to pee, then I’ll be out”

Kissing Lance’s hair, Keith found himself more anxious over Lance than the thought of seeing his father’s grave. Maybe Lance was more tired from the day before than he was letting on

“Alright. I’ll be waiting”

When Lance came shuffling out the bathroom, he made straight for Keith. Keith having covered the top of the hotel bed with their three blankets, the bottom one acting as the sheet between them and the crappy bedding below. Lifting the corner back, his boyfriend climbed in beside him. Shoes and all. Lance had to be dead tired to not fight him over his shoes, which had kind of become part of Keith’s daily job. Laying himself against him, Lance rested his head on Keith’s chest, arm snaking around him. Somehow the feeling that came to mind was akin to missing that bottom step and terror flooring you for a moment as your stomach dropped. When Lance started crying, Keith could only let him cry it out. He’d gotten used to Lance having more emotions than he thought possible for a vampire. Lance’s motto seemed to be “sometimes you just need to cry it out”. Still. It sucked. They were so far from their friends. So far from home... and the hard bit was yet to come.

Falling asleep Keith, Lance carefully pried himself off his boyfriend. He felt safer for being in the hotel room, and disoriented from how hard he’d seemed to nap. Creeping to the bathroom, then back into their room, Lance mentally sighed to himself over his emotions. He was being so dumb. Keith needed him... None of this... he couldn’t break down now. Taking his phone off the bedside table, the vampire crept back into the bathroom. He’d already talked to Keith, explaining that he didn’t get what was going on at all... Yet he wasn’t sure that Keith believed him. His people hating boyfriend had offered to take him to the markets on for Easter. That wasn’t Keith’s thing. That was Keith grasping at straws and trying to find a way to make him happy again.

The call took a long time to answer, Krolia’s voice happy as Lance wondered if he was annoying her

“Hey, Lance! How are you?! Did you and Keith arrive safely, I swear that boy never thinks to let me know he’s okay”

They’d sent a message to group chat, and that was about it. With some small unpacking, they’d both been too tired for phone calls and any form of in-depth conversation

“Sorry, Krolia. Yeah, we got here okay. If this is a bad time, I can call back”

“No. Not at all. Is everything okay? I mean, I’m thrilled you called, but I’m confused as to why”

That stung a little. He hadn’t spoken to Krolia all that much since Keith turned...

“I won’t keep you long. I have a question, and I think you’re about the only one who understands what it’s like to be pregnant”

He would have turned straight to Mami if she’d been alive. He felt like he really needed that maternal support right now. Hearing her voice would have driven home she was safe and she would have teased him for being hopeless

“Shoot away! Are my two grandbabies giving you grief already? I can have a stern talking to them, if they are”

He wanted to reach through the phone and hug Krolia. Keith was absolutely amazing with him, yet he couldn’t fall pregnant. A small snort escaped without him meaning for it to

“They’re fine. Using my bladder as a trampoline and wriggling around in there. I... uh... I was wondering if when you were pregnant with Keith, if you ever felt... scared for no reason”

There was a pause. Lance grateful Krolia was taking the time to think about it

“Sometimes, yes. Especially in the line of work I do... Did something happen?”

So Krolia has only experienced fear when thinking of vampires and werewolves...

“We we’re having breakfast and all of a sudden I got scared. There was nothing there to be scared of. No one else who wasn’t human... but... I feel like I was too care free lately. I didn’t guard my scent. I didn’t think about what would happen had someone caught it. I didn’t think about bringing Keith here and what if there was someone like us here... I didn’t think about it... and I feel... like me not thinking about it is the same as me thinking Keith... is... something less than he was”

Starting to cry, he felt really very stupid for his tears. He treasured Keith. But he’d been running around trailing his scent after him without a thought of the impact. All he’d wanted was to get things done and settle his ego

“Lance, you love that idiot son of mine. I’m sure at the first hint of danger you would have reacted. Is Keith there with you?”

“He’s asleep... I’m sorry for calling... I would have turned to Mami, but...”

“No. No. I’m glad you called. I want to be there for the both of you. Yes, I was scared. But nothing like Keith’s father. The slightest thing and he wanted to rush me off to the emergency department. You’re under a lot of stress. Have you been...?”

Lance shook his head, then remember Krolia couldn’t see him shaking his head

“Not yet. I freaked out and Keith had to take care of me...”

“You’re nearing the end of the pregnancy. Fears happen. I know that all too well. Especially how the insomnia can play on your mind. You’ve both been through so much, and I heard from Curtis that you were looking forward to some alone time with Keith. My opinion is that you let Keith take care of you. He’s strong”

“He’s not that strong when it comes to his dad”

“No, but keeping it in will only make him worry more. He loves you. If anything were to happen to you... well, I feel sorry for whoever crosses you. I believe both of you would sense actual danger”

“How am I supposed to know the difference?!”

“You’ll know. Take these feeling of fear and ignore them. Push them aside. They’re useless. Focus on you and my grand babies. You should be safe there. Coran didn’t mention anything about anyone living there that you should be wary about”

Lance sniffled. Krolia hadn’t given him much of anything useful and it sucked... but she tried in her own way

“Thanks, Krolia. I’m going to go back to Keith now”

“No worries. Let me know how everything goes. You can call me. Anything you two need...”

“Yeah. I will. I... thanks for talking to me...”

“Anytime. I’m your mother too. You can come to me”

Coming out the bathroom, Keith was awake, meaning he’d heard some, if not all, Lance’s side of the phone call. Stopping a few steps into the room, he expected Keith to be angry at him for admitting he hadn’t thought of his precious boyfriend’s safety. He hadn’t thought of anything much when it came to the more important things he should have been almost paranoid about

“Babe... come here”

Holding his arm out, Lance caved instantly as he moved to climb into bed with Keith, his emotions getting the better of him as he started crying again. Krolia wasn’t Mami. She didn’t give advice like Mami did. The vampire craving that maternal touch, that Krolia had only taken the point off of

“That’s it. I’m here... I’m here, let it all out”

“I’m sorry”

Keith gentle ran his fingers through Lance’s hair, hushing him softly

“Shhhh... I’ve got you. I’m okay and you’re okay. It’s okay”

“I miss Mami”

“I know you do, babe. I know. Let it out... let it all out”

He was such a selfish boyfriend, yet Keith loved him anyway. He didn’t deserve the love he felt from Keith, but he did notice that together like this, the fear had mostly gone away. There really was no substitute for cuddles with Keith.

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose #klance #mpreg #pregnant lance #werewolf keith #vampire lance #two halves of the same idiot

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harryandmolly · 4 years

Text

Change of Pace - 21 (Summer 2019)

cowritten by @achinglyshawn

summary: Shawn and Maya meet again 10 years after life got in the way of love

warnings: language

wc: 6.7k

------------

Maya is pouting.

She’s been waiting for tonight for over 48 hours. He’s been busy at the shop and she tells herself it’s probably better because if they spend all their time together, they’re going to fall back into their summer lust without any kind of real foundation for a relationship.

So busy is good. She’s gotten to start work on another piece -- it’s a little darker, a bleak memory of lying tangled in her sheets in Manhattan unable to sleep because she’s been amped up on Adderall all day. It’s cathartic, though. Artistic release at long last.

She stares out her window in her paint shirt and now signature Daisy Dukes, head cocked, squinting out at the thunderstorm rolling in off the sea. She and Shawn were going to the food truck night in the next town over but the fat raindrops plunking on her weatherproofed deck are telling her to make other plans.

She lifts her phone to text him.

Maya: hi :) mother nature has no mercy. Want to come do movies and food at my place? We can watch the storm come in

Shawn: you mean you don’t want to eat street food in the pouring rain with me? :(

Maya: you mean you don’t want to come snuggle and watch movies with me?

Shawn: i always want to do my two favorite things with you

Shawn: what’re u thinking for food?

Shawn: i can pick up

Maya: sushi pls! That place on great st. with the funny name? They have that mt. fuji roll

Shawn: mt. fuji, extra gyoza, and the fancy tuna sashimi

Shawn: dessert?

Maya definitely does not even for a second think about texting him “me.”

Maya: I got bored yesterday and walked down to Russell’s Candy Shoppe on main and got cute vintage penny candy

Shawn: you’re sweet

Shawn: but im gonna need more than penny candy to have a proper dessert

Maya: then by all means grab some mochi while you’re there

Shawn: can i tell you a secret?

Maya: always

Shawn: i’m definitely gonna pick up one of those in-house ice cream cakes from the corner market

Maya moans a little at reading his text.

Maya: omg bring it on, baby

Shawn: i’ll text u when im on my way, sugar

Maya feels better about their plans now. She thinks she likes these better. A crack of thunder sounds distantly as she climbs the stairs. The power flickers when she’s in the shower rinsing off and her heart throbs hard in her chest. Sometimes it occurs to her how alone she is in this house and it gets to her.

She changes into clingy leggings and a cozy-cute hoodie from the Roxy catalog and by the time she gets back downstairs to light some candles, not too many because she doesn’t want to set “a mood,” it’s absolutely pouring. She hurries to find her garage door opener so she can leave it open for him and he doesn’t have to get drenched walking into the house.

Because that would be just an excuse for him to take his clothes off. Which they don’t need right now.

Shawn manages to stay mostly dry on his venture for food and ice cream cake. He’s got his slicker on and an umbrella in the back, but he’s thankful to see Maya’s garage door open when he pulls into her driveway.

He parks, shedding his raincoat before getting out of the Jeep. He navigates the food from the backseat, giving himself a free hand to knock on the door with.

He’s still not sure where they stand on him using her spare keys and letting himself in. He thinks he likes it better this way, for now at least. He likes the anticipation. He thinks it makes their time together that much sweeter.

Maya has her fingers wrapped around a wide-bowled glass of red and it’s halfway to her lips when she hears him knock. She smiles and puts her glass down next to his, already poured, hurrying on her toes to reach him.

“Hey you,” she murmurs, holding the door open for him to walk through. She takes one of the bags of food he’s hauling in. She expects he’ll want to take off his jacket and shoes but she doesn’t want to wait to kiss him just once before they should probably try to keep their hands and lips mostly to themselves.

She leans in and goes for a peck on his lips but when she gets there, she lingers slightly longer than planned. She missed him.

He almost drops the sushi when Maya kisses him. He’s not expecting it— they’ve been sticking with kisses on the cheek for greetings. It’s safer that way.

But then he melts. Maya’s lips linger long enough for him to sigh happily against her mouth. His fingers tighten around the plastic bag handles as they begin to slip, and he only pushes back so he can catch the bottom of the bag with his hand.

He looks from the sushi to Maya, a bit flustered as he catches his breath.

“Hi,” he says, a grin pulling across his lips.

“I, uh,” He chuckles to himself, shakes his head. “I missed you.”

Maya doesn’t mean to knock him off balance but she’s a little pleased that she did. She smiles, giggling under her breath watching him scrabble to catch the sushi before he drops it. He secures his hand under the bag and smiles down at her.

“I missed you too. I guess that’s obvious by my pouncing on you when you walked in.”

She’s not really shy about it. She wants him to know she’s been thinking about him and that she wanted him to know that as soon as he got here. He deserves to know how badly she wants him.

Shawn grins, shrugging as he brings the sushi to the kitchen counter.

“Lucky for you, I like being pounced on,” he coos, untying the plastic knot keeping the bag closed.

She scoops up the bag with the ice cream cake and hurries it to her freezer. Despite the storm, it’s still hot out and she doesn’t want it to melt. The broad, long windows on the side of her house show the storm clouds rolling in, dark and threatening. She’s got plates and wine already set up for them and HBO up on the TV.

She looks over at him while they unpack the sushi. “Did you get a lot done at the shop?”

Maya let’s the freezer door bang shut, then helps him unload the wide variety of sushi he couldn’t help but order. He puts away enough himself, and he knows Maya always eats more sushi than she says she will.

Shawn hums, lifting a shoulder. “I finished a couple orders, but I still haven’t started on that new bass yet. It’s so fuckin’ delicate. I want to have a day I can dedicate to it.”

Maya nods. She knows the instrument he means, he told her about it while she was sketching him the other day. It sounds like an intricate job. She understands his desire to be as detail-oriented as possible, it’s a quality they share. She smiles a bit sheepishly.

“I guess I can share you with your shop for another day if you need me to.”

Balance is good. Slow is good.

She smirks at the insane quantity of sushi he ordered, knowing they’ll probably end up eating it all anyway. She piles some segments from a few different rolls on a plate and points to his wine glass with a wink while strolling barefoot toward her couch to eat.

“That’s for you, hun.”

Shawn looks up at the sound of her voice, sees her pointed finger and follows it to the full glass of wine she poured when he didn’t notice. He smiles and lifts his sushi-filled plate in one hand, reaching for the wine with the other.

“You know how to treat a guy right, don’t you?”

He follows her to the couch, toeing off his shoes so her can settle in as comfortably as Maya does. He leans back, kicks his legs up onto the coffee table.

“So,” he asks through a mouthful of rice, “What are we watching?”

Shawn plops himself down next to her in a way that says her house feels at least a little like his home, too. She adjusts her position next to him, swinging her legs up to fold beside her, leaning in up against his arm while she drops a sashimi piece in her mouth. She purrs at the taste of the fresh fish.

“I narrowed it down to,” she begins, swallowing her own bite, “‘We’re the Millers’ or ‘When Harry Met Sally.’ Food picker-upper’s choice.”

It was an old tradition of theirs -- whoever brought over food could pick the movie. They almost always agreed on stuff to watch, though.

Like a snake, Shawn unhinges his jaw around a plump piece of sushi, nodding and humming as he considers the options she gives him. He hasn’t seen the former, and he’s seen the later more times than he should probably admit.

He looks at Maya, watches the way her cheeks bulge as she pops pieces of sushi into her mouth. His lips twitch. She looks like a chipmunk, a little, her nose twitching as she chews.

Maya glances out the windows when another loud crack sounds closer to the house. The rain pounds harder against the windows.

“Gonna have good waves tomorrow,” she murmurs, handing him the remote, reaching for another bite of sushi.

He takes the remote, deciding he’s in the mood for something new and selects We’re the Millers. Presses play and sips his wine.

“Wanna have a beach day? Or well. Half day? I should go into the shop but I can hang out in the morning.”

Maya watches Jason Sudeikis start to round up his band of misfits, enjoying the light comedy amidst the raging storm outside. She pops another bite of sushi in her mouth and follows it with a sip of wine.

“I’d love that,” she says, eyeing him from the side, “But if you have to spend the day at the studio, I can deal.”

She smiles supportively despite how badly she wants to take him up on the offer.

Shawn nods as he chews on a piece of tuna. He knows they’re both trying to navigate between wanting to be together all the time and giving each other space.

But they haven’t gone to the beach together since starting this take-it-slow dating thing, so he thinks a half day wouldn’t be too much.

“I can spare a half day to have some fun in the sun with you,” he says with a grin, reaching over with his chopsticks to steal a piece of gyoza from her plate, since he forgot to take some for himself.

Maya smacks at his chopsticks to sabotage him when he steals from her plate but the dumpling is in his mouth before she can protest.

“Rude,” she mumbles, elbowing him teasingly and scooting just a touch closer.

He’s warm and firm and smells a little woody. She doesn’t make a show of snuggling up to him, but she does unfold her legs and cross them next to his noticeably.

Shawn feels Maya shift closer, so he settles back into the couch and angles himself towards her. Luckily, she sits to his left, so he can casually drape his arm along the back of the couch, behind her shoulders, while still pinching sushi between his soy sauce-stained chopsticks.

Maya snorts a little at the TV and covers her mouth. This movie is so fucking funny -- she forgot how funny. It’s nice just to laugh with him and feel no pressure at all. The storm rages on around them. She absently hopes her studio isn’t leaking from the roof again, but she covered her pieces with dropcloths just in case.

“Jennifer Aniston is so hot,” Maya comments through a mouthful of salmon.

Shawn pauses, mid-pinch. He looks at Maya, watches her stare at Jennifer Aniston. He grins.

“I’ve always had the worst crush on her. Did I ever tell you that?”

He thinks he used to pretend not to have celebrity crushes because it made him lame or something. Or because he didn’t want Maya thinking he was a gross jerk, or something. Or probably because he didn’t want to say anything to make Maya think he wasn’t completely gone for her.

Probably a combo of all three. The reasons feel silly now.

Maya chuckles and leans into his arm a little, welcoming him to stay close to her. She shakes her head and daubs some wasabi on a firecracker roll for an extra punch. She shrugs.

“No, but it doesn’t shock me. All straight guys are obsessed with her. Understandably.”

Now that she’s thinking about it, she doesn’t really know who his celebrity crushes are. They never used to talk about that stuff, like they were afraid to acknowledge that they’d ever found anyone else attractive.

She angles herself toward him and quirks an eyebrow. “Who else, then? Spill the tea. Or whatever kids say now.”

Shawn’s got a mouthful of tuna and feeling cornered by the question. He chews and swallows and looks down at his plate as his shoulders lift in a small shrug.

“I dunno,” he laughs. He actually hasn’t thought about a celebrity crush in years. He’s been focused on work, and the only woman he ever thought about was Maya, when he was feeling self-indulgent enough to let himself.

He chews through a piece of salmon, glancing at her.

“Okay, actually. I do know,” he sighs, shaking his head and looking back to the TV. He smiles. “Amy Adams. Especially as Lois Lane.”

Maya laughs, delighted. “Of course! She’s totally got that wholesome-hot thing going on. That makes a lot of sense for you, actually.”

Maya glances out the window, considering it. She doesn’t, naturally, love the vision of Shawn and Amy Adams but she can see they’d look good together. Of course they would.

She hums low in her throat and bites down on her last piece of sushi, a slice of perfect toro sashimi.

“Amy Adams is gorgeous,” she admits. She’s gorgeous in a very different way than Maya is. She knows that. She thinks given the choice, Shawn would probably still choose Maya. That makes her smile.

“I think my number one celebrity crush is Mila Kunis, which is the most frat-bro answer ever.”

Shawn laughs. Everyone loves Mila Kunis, so he’s not surprised, just like she wasn’t surprised about Aniston.

He picks up another piece of sushi, swishing it around in the soy sauce on his plate. He shrugs, “Yeah, probably, but the frat-bros aren’t wrong when it comes to her. So it’s okay.”

He pops the whole piece in his mouth, chewing greedily as he tries not to think about Maya and Mila Kunis making out. He doesn’t need to go there, not if they’re gonna keep this night PG-13.

She knew Shawn would agree about Mila. Every straight man in North America agrees about Mila. She likes that they’re talking about this kind of stuff now and not hiding it away because they’re worried about getting uncomfortable. She doesn’t even mind that they share celebrity crushes. Crushes are fun.

“Can I tell you something, though?”

She puts her plate back on the coffee table and leans back against the warmth of his arm around the back of her couch.

She smiles up at him. “Always.”

Shawn follows Maya’s lead, lifting his plate from his lap to set it on the table. He wipes his sticky fingers on his napkin and tosses it onto the plates with the rest of their debris. When they’re both settled again, his arm casually on the back of the sofa once more, Shawn finds the words for his admission.

“I always, like, had celebrity crushes, I guess, but. I don’t know. I never crushed on anyone as hard as I crushed on you. I only really went to that art show in college because I knew you were going to be showing pieces and I wanted to see them, and see if I could catch a glimpse of you, too.”

He’s never admitted that to her. He always felt weird about it, before. Now it feels silly. He was a boy with a crush, not some creep. Well, he hopes Maya sees it that way, at least. He glances at her, lips pressed together as his heart rattles in a cage.

What a reckless thing to admit. Oh, well. He wanted her to know. He thinks she deserves the truth.

Maya doesn’t mean to laugh, exactly. She’s not laughing at him. She’s laughing because she’d never guess that hearing something like this from him now would have her quite so smitten and bashful. It’s 15 years ago, this night he’s talking about. And he makes it sound like it was last week.

“God, I love that. I… thank you for telling me that. That’s…”

She trails off, going very pink and giggly. She’s acting more juvenile now than she did that night she met him when they were both just kids. She remembers how sweet and vulnerable he seemed then, hands in his pockets, gazing up at her pieces that she kind of hated like they were worth a fortune to him.

He doesn’t expect her to laugh. He partly expected her to be weirded out, partly expected her to maybe find it sweet. He didn’t think what he said was very funny, though.

Shawn raises his brows.

“You, ah, you’re welcome,” he replies, corner of his lips twitching with the urge to smile, because her laughter is infectious.

Her laughter peters out, and then she looks at him in a way he feels like she hasn’t before. Well, maybe since college. It’s a look that sears him from the inside out, had his breath catching in his throat.

She swallows. It was so long ago. But when she looks up at him now, he looks just the same, sweet and vulnerable as ever, undeterred by being unlucky in love.

She thinks his luck is changing.

Slowly, carefully so he can stop her if he wants, she tucks a hand around the back of his neck and guides his lips to hers for a deep, perfect kiss.

Shawn goes easily when Maya pulls him close, her lips moulding to his in a way that has his heart hammering. He groans, reaching around to cup her face, tilting her head back to sweeten the kiss.

Maya’s trying not to think about the fact that this kiss is maybe the longest they’ve shared since they rebooted their relationship. She doesn’t want to get clammy and anxious, she doesn’t want to overthink this. She wants to relax.

Maya murmurs gently into his mouth when he holds her cheek. She lets her weight settle back, necessitating the need for him to come forward to meet her.

She doesn’t know how long she’s going to get to keep him like this. She gently swipes her tongue into his mouth, tickling her fingers up the nape of his neck to twist and pluck at the tiny curls there that she’s missed.

Shawn aches from the tenderness of the kiss, from the way she melts into the couch and coaxes him with her. He leans on to his hip, falling after her, his arm slipping down around her shoulders.

Her fingers in his hair sends shivers down his spine, and he accepts her tongue eagerly with a gentle hum.

Shawn slides his hand from her cheek to the back of her neck, fingers weaving through her dark, silken curls. He breaks the kiss only to dive in again, this time sucking lazily at her lip, though lightly enough to stay away from anything too tempting.

God, he feels so fucking good.

He purrs into her mouth and it’s gorgeous. It eggs her on. When he parts from her to suck at her lip, she whimpers and pulls her other hand up to his chest to feel him breathe.

He feels so sturdy and stable. She wants to just hang on him by her fingers in his hair until their limbs fall asleep. She moves her hand up a little higher to massage the back of his neck as he leans over her.

The thunder remains loud. In fact, if Maya were paying attention, she’d notice it’s the loudest it’s been. But she’s not. She’s consumed by him.

Shawn doesn’t think they’ve ever kissed like this before. He keeps thinking that lately, that all the kisses they’ve shared in the last couple weeks are different. This is the closest to making out they’ve gotten, and it’s nothing like how they would make out in the beginning of the summer. Or when they were in college.

She’s tender but eager, pliable but steady. She kisses him like maybe she really could fall in love with him again, and not like she’s just throwing caution to the wind for nostalgia’s sake. She’s making his stomach twist with fucking butterflies.

She hums into his mouth this time, pulling away just slightly, “This is ok, right? This is fine?”

His lips fall to her jaw when she pulls back without warning. His eyes open, brows raising as he leans away to get a proper look at her. Her cheeks are flushed, lips swollen from his ministrations, but he notes a worried gleam in her eye like she thinks he really might say it’s not okay.

“Yeah,” he rasps, maybe too eagerly, “Yes. It-- I mean, it’s totally okay with me, if it’s okay with you. Is it? Okay with you? Cause we can do something else. Anything you want.”

Maya smiles, her eyes drifting shut. She lifts her hand from his chest to cup his cheek and exhales a little chuckle.

“Yeah. I’m-- Yeah. I missed this. I just don’t want to move too fast. I just…”

She pecks her lips to his quickly, as if to tide her over. “I don’t know how fast is too fast and how slow is too slow.”

She swallows and looks up into his beautiful brown eyes. She brushes her nose against his and continues her fingers’ calming motion through his hair.

It feels impossibly cheesy to think, but Shawn’s sure he could look into Maya’s eyes. Especially when she looks at him like that. He’s lost in that look, and in the rhythmic stroking of her fingers in his hair like he loves so much.

His hand finds her cheek once more. He shakes his head.

“I don’t either, sugar,” he murmurs, thumb brushing across her round, pink cheek, “It’s not— well, this isn’t something I’m used to navigating. But what I do know is, I really, really enjoy kissing you.”

He smiles, his lips brushing against hers as her does.

Maya’s lips spark as his skim across hers. She inhales and lets herself have him, just a little more of him. She lifts her hand up higher in his hair and secures it, fingers vined in his curls, wrapping the other arm around his shoulders.

“Then let’s keep doing that.”

“Yeah, let’s keep--”

Maya’s lips are on Shawn’s before he can finish his eager agreement. She pulls him in with small palms against broad shoulders, has him sinking further until he’s nearly pressed on top of her.

She’s not sure where to put her hands so she keeps them confined mostly to his neck and shoulders. She gets just a little daring when she seeks out the hot skin just under the collar of his T-shirt with her sneaky fingertips. She feels under control, though. And it’s not even a little boring.

He behaves himself, keeps an arm curled safely around her shoulders while his hand rests on her hip, high enough to remain innocent. He finds himself sucking on her lip once more, flicking it gently with his tongue before getting it between his teeth. He’s delicate with all of it, less insistent or voraciously desperate than he was only a few weeks ago.

He finds, really, that he enjoys this much better. This is how they should’ve been kissing all along.

Maya’s fingers find his skin and send a shiver down his spine, have his fingers curling into her hip. She leaves soft, subtle strokes along the base of his neck that shouldn’t send him reeling nearly as much as they are. He groans into her mouth, then moves his hand on her shoulder to the back of her head. He cradles her carefully while he rolls off of his hip, sitting back and pulling Maya with him.

He goes until he’s lying on the couch, Maya relaxed on top of him as they continue to kiss lazily, as if they’ve suddenly got all the time they never had before.

Maya thinks this feels more like exploration than anything they’ve ever done together, maybe even dating back to when they first got together in college. Even then, everything was frantic, hurried, desperate. This is different.

As he teases her lips and tugs her on top of him when he lies down, Maya starts to wonder if they’ve ever just… made out. I mean, of course they have, but have they ever made out just to make out, and not because they didn’t have time to have sex? If they have, Maya doesn’t remember. Maybe they’ve always been a little bit desperate.

Maya shifts on top of him, getting comfortable. She props herself up on her forearm and lets one of her legs slot between his without getting too suggestive. She pulls up from the depth of the kiss a little, brushing the tip of her nose against his. She pecks little soft kisses on his top lip, then the bottom one, then his nose.

“This is nice,” she whispers, kissing his cheeks next.

Maya eases into him so well. She practically melts on top of him, sighing into his mouth as his hands glide up the length of her back until he reaches her shoulder blades.

Shawn smiles as she drops quick kisses to his lips. He tries to catch her with a kiss of his own, but she moves to his nose, then his cheek.

He smirks into the soft angle of her jaw, his nose brushing against her cheek as he nods.

“This is really nice, Lu,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the soft skin just beneath her ear. He trails to her jaw, where he idles, humming at presses kiss after gentle kiss to her skin.

His lips trail off after hers do. They make her smile and shiver a little. She hugs him closer, lifting her fingers through his hair like she used to when he couldn’t fall asleep. She closes her eyes and lets herself wonder if it’ll be like this for them for a while. Or forever.

Maya hears her throat clear. She doesn’t study whether or not asking him this while they’re in this position might be a bit tactless. She just wants to feel like she can always ask him anything.

She pulls up, disconnecting, rather reluctantly, his lips from her smooth jaw. She swallows and cups his cheek, brushing her thumb along the underside of his beautifully defined cheekbone.

He’s distracted with the sweet taste of her skin when she pulls away from him. He blinks his eyes open, smiling slightly as she strokes his cheek.

“I have to ask,” she says, voice wavering, “With Leah… when you married her, did you think it was going to be forever?”

Shawn’s brows raise. That’s not anything he was expecting her to ask.

He’s not sure how to answer.

“Ah—“ he wets his lips, looking down between them. He takes a breath in, looks back up at her. “I wanted it to be. I told myself I would make it last. But, uh, I don’t—“ he smiles, closes his eyes and shakes his head, “I don’t think I ever really felt it in my gut.”

Maya nods thoughtfully and looks down at her fingers brushing against the freckles on his neck.

“I guess I was hoping you’d say that,” she confesses, “Not because… I mean, obviously I want you to be happy, but if you were happy with her you wouldn’t be here, so…”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head. She’s getting tangled up. She blinks a few times and starts again.

“I just mean that everyone always says you just... know. And I’ve never understood it. I don’t think you can understand unless you feel it. If you say you didn’t truly feel like it was forever, I think maybe that gives me some weird hope that the knowing thing, it’s real.”

She hopes it’s ok she’s blabbering about this. She feels like it’s a touchy subject to bring up, not just because of Leah, but because they’re supposed to be taking it slow.

Shawn can’t control the adoring smile that splits his lips as Maya babbles. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard her ramble like this, like she’s nervous to be honest with him. Even when she told him she’d been lying about New York, she was clear and concise.

He doesn’t mind when she gets flustered. He likes thinking that maybe he makes her as nervous as she makes him.

The way he smiles at her assures her she wasn’t out of line, she wasn’t even really ruining the mood. He smiles like he knows something she doesn’t. It’s not infuriating the way that it was at work when the guys on her team thought they were smarter than she was. He smiles like he’s been there and he wants to help her through it.

Carefully, Shawn slides his hand from her shoulder blade to the back of her head, fingers curling in her hair. He nudges her nose with his, dropping a soft kiss to her lips as her babbling dies down.

“The knowing thing is definitely real. I promise.”

Maya’s breath hitches. As he pulls back to speak, her lips follow his. She bites down on her lower lip to keep herself from muffling his words in her mouth.

He’s not sure he’s allowed to say, Because I know with you, yet. They’re trying to go slow not only physically, but emotionally too. He can’t help his gut, though. She’s always had a hold on his heart in a way no one else has ever managed. He couldn’t change it even if he wanted to.

(He knows. He tried. It ended in divorce.)

Her stomach completely flips. On some level, she knew. She knows he loves her. He’s always been the one that was sure. Even now, after everything, he still knows. It makes her want to squeal and throw herself into him and never let him leave, not that he wants to.

As she looks down at him, she feels safe. That much is certain. She doesn’t feel a rush to get to where he is now. She’ll know when she knows. She believes him.

Shawn’s answer seems to placate Maya, who bites her lip and looks down at him like she couldn’t be happier with what he’s said. He tucks a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, fingertips brushing gently over the shell.

She dips her head and kisses him again, settling back into his body as the storm starts to pass. The rain is getting lighter, the thunder quieter. Soon it’ll just be silent around them.

Then, she kisses him. It’s firm, but sweet, and feels like she’s trying to tell him she’s gonna love him back one day, just as much as he loves her. He hums into her mouth, his fingertips still toying lightly with her ear and massaging her scalp.

He lets her kiss him for a few seconds and she thinks maybe he’s going to let her stay there lavishing him with kisses as long as her heart desires. Needless to say, they’d end up being there a while.

His gentleness is so comforting she feels like she could fall asleep just lying here, kissing him. She doesn’t want to.

He pulls away after a moment, not because he wants to, but because now he’s got a question for her, and he’s not sure he’ll find a better time to bring it up.

He kisses her cheek, then the angle of her jaw.

“Can I ask you something now?” he murmurs, nosing her temple softly.

He shifts back and it’s probably for the best because her eyelids are fluttering and she’s so lost in him she almost can’t find her way back.

She nods at his prompt, tracing her fingertips along the contours of his throat.

Her fingers find his neck, and Shawn’s eyes fall shut. He lets himself revel in it for a moment, in the way she touches him so lovingly. His heart hammers, stomach twisting, and now he’s all the more nervous to ask his question.

He takes his time asking and she can’t pretend it doesn’t make her more anxious. It’s good, she has to remind herself, the openness feels hard right now but it’s just because you’re not good at it yet.

He wets his lips, finally blinking to look at her again.

Shawn smiles, brings his palm to her cheek.

He swallows, takes a breath. “Is it okay that I know because of you?”

He figures she already knows. But there’s a difference between an unspoken truth and a spoken one. He wants to be sure she knows what he means. He feels like he’s been transparent with the way he feels about her, too much so in the months before now. But he wants her to know it wasn’t all just nostalgia and longing for a comfort he once knew.

Maya stares down at him in wonder. He’s saying what he thinks she’s saying. He’s not dancing around it, he’s not being coy, he’s telling her he loves her and he’s going to forever. Her breath comes short in her chest. She closes her eyes and exhales through her nose nice and slow.

“God, yes. That’s… more than ok. That’s amazing.”

Amazing.

Amazing is his new favorite word. It’s amazing, she thinks, that he’s in love with her. She thinks the way he feels about her is amazing.

He thinks she’s amazing.

She kisses him again, just quickly, because she’s not done yammering.

“Because if you know that means I’ll know, too. When… it’s time.”

Now she is being somewhat coy, but she knows he knows what she means.

He smiles into her kiss, too busy thinking about the way she purred when she said amazing.

As always, however, Maya manages to grab his attention. He lifts his brows, taking a slow, calming breath through his nose. His tongue darts out, wetting his lower lip.

“You-- ah-- You mean because of me, right? I mean, I guess that’s what you probably mean but I just wanna--, you know, for the, uh, the sake of clarity, eh?”

Maya’s nose twitches as she tries to tamp down a ridiculous smile. She feels a little more empowered now to skip right past coy. She pecks his lips again, pulling up to press her forehead to his.

“For the sake of clarity,” she begins teasingly, “I mean that if you really know that this is it for you, that you want me forever, then I trust your judgment. And I believe I can get to a place where I know, completely certainly, that this is it for me.”

It’s the best she can do for now. It’s honest. It’s not overreaching or underselling. It’s exactly how she feels. And it feels good to be that candid.

Shawn swallows, arms dropping to her waist when she gets close, murmuring low.

She gives him the closest thing to I love you he can think of. Closer than he ever thought he’d get so soon after— well, after screwing up and fighting and rebooting the entire thing.

But it’s not a total reboot, because there’s history between them. They’re just not so afraid of it, anymore.

He smiles, then catches her lips in a gentle kiss, because she’s there, and one day she’s gonna be in love with him again.

Small victories, right?

“Just, take your time, okay? We have so much time. I’m really— I’m looking forward to it. To the journey, or whatever,” his voice rasps and he rolls his eyes at himself at the end, but he means it.

He thinks, maybe, he’s ready for the real kind of relationship he never was before.

Maya tips her forehead back against his when he rolls his eyes. She closes hers and strokes the pad of her thumb down his throat.

She doesn’t think she’ll need much time. Falling in love with him again seems a foregone conclusion. She appreciates more than she can say that he’s being so patient with her. It’s one thing to hold off on having sex for a while but to give her the space to come to her own conclusions about their relationship, it takes a lot of strength, maturity and confidence.

So how could she not be in love with him?

The truth is, it’s not about him, the reason she can’t fall into this with him now. Maya has been a shell for 12 years, by choice. She feels like she’s still learning to live again and not just exist. Letting Shawn in all at once will fill the holes in her that she hasn’t spackled yet, but she won’t be whole. She has to spend time with herself, learn to be and love herself again before she can love him the way he deserves to be loved.

After a few pleasantly, comfortably silent moments, Maya tilts her head and drops her lips onto his once more. She sweeps falling hair up behind her ear and leans into it.

“Thank you,” she murmurs sincerely into his mouth.

He kisses the thanks from her lips, humming softly as he cups the back of her head and strokes his fingers lovingly through her hair. He pulls back after a minute, when he feels his stomach growl to remind him of the ice cream cake in the freezer.

“Mmm,” he hums, fingers finding her chin so he can tilt her head back, “You know how you can really thank me, Lemon?”

He smiles, then sinks his teeth into his lower lip to feign coy innocence as he tilts his head at her, as if his request is something she’ll need convincing to do.

Maya’s heart reaches up into her throat. She squirms on top of him slightly. His fingers feel almost too hot on her skin. Watching him bite into his lip has her almost panting on top of him.

“What…. Uhm, how?” she stutters.

A slow, cheshire cat grin splits Shawn’s lips. He reaches for the disobedient strand of hair that keeps falling in Maya’s face, tucks it behind her ear while his thumb grazes her jaw.

“You can help me eat the ice cream cake in the freezer that’s calling my name.”

He raises his brows, eyes crinkling at the corners as if to ‘Gotchya!’

Maya’s face goes a little red and she rolls her eyes, burying her bashful face into his neck while she laughs.

“You’re such an idiot,” she groans, kissing along his throat while she hauls herself up on her hands over him. Reluctantly, she peels off the warmth of his body and helps him off the couch, keeping their fingers tangled on the way to the freezer. She swings his arms around her waist and hobbles them both over.

They sit at her bar with pieces of cake. They talk about nothing and everything. They don’t go back to the couch. She walks him out a couple hours later when they’re both nearly half asleep. She kisses him goodnight. He calls her ‘sugar.’ She’s so happy.

----------

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @simpledomain @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @thecurlsofgod @magcon7280 @bensbuttercup @shawnsmusical @paigeasourous @tell-me-when-ur-ready @softmendesss @searchingunderthestars @buggy-blogs @mendesficsxbombay @siennarossi @lostinshawnsmemory @umbreakablesoul @sleepybesson @shawnsheaven @desire-to-live @jillian-nd @shawnwyr @curlsofshawn @graysonmendes @tnhmblive @meltingicequeen

#Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fiction #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes series #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes blurbs #shawn mendes drabble

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fractionallystruckout · 4 years

Text

Second String (Part 2)

(Part 1 - Part 2)

Inspired by @rainbowjunko's great drawing of Jun and Tetsu playing guitar and bass, respectively.

AU: rock band!AU

Also on AO3.

Jun's band practices every day except Monday and Thursday. Yuuki shows up on Monday.

—

Jun stood with the door open, staring at Yuuki on his front step.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "It's Monday."

He was pretty sure. He hoped it was or the date he'd written on every receipt at the bookstore was wrong.

"I know," Yuuki said, easing some of Jun's concerns. He shifted the bag on his shoulder. "I was wondering if I could practice here."

"Why here?"

"I live in a 1K and the walls are thin."

Jun wanted to say no.

It was Monday, that much was confirmed. Monday was Jun's day to catch up on everything that had fallen by the wayside during the previous week like grocery shopping and laundry. It was why he was standing in front of an unexpected guest wearing a threadbare shirt and a pair of old sweatpants. Yuuki's neatly pressed office attire, including an expensive looking coat, made Jun feel underdressed in his own home which was ridiculous and annoying.

He wanted to say no.

His stupid, stupid dream said otherwise.

You'll only be better if he gets better.

"Fine," he said, stepping back in reluctant invitation. "Come in."

Yuuki nodded and stepped inside, setting his case down so he could take off his shoes. Jun watched him put shined dress shoes down next to his own scuffed boots. Yuuki picked up his case and moved towards the stairs, pausing for a moment to glance at the hallway leading to Jun's kitchen.

"You know the way," Jun said, pushing Yuuki on the shoulder.

They went downstairs, the short trip lit only by ambient light falling down from the entryway until Jun reached out to turn the lights on. Everything was still set up from their practice yesterday, for their practice tomorrow. Yuuki stepped over the cords strayed across the floor as he took up his usual spot, stage left of Miyauchi's drums.

Jun leaned against the wall.

"There's a metronome in that box somewhere," he said, pointing to a box in the far corner behind Miyauchi's seat. It was a mess of cords and tape and anything else that didn't have a proper place. "If it's dead, there's a pack of batteries in the closet."

Yuuki looked up from unpacking his bass. "You're not staying?"

"No," Jun said, shaking his head. "It's Monday."

The day Jun caught up on everything he hadn't had time for during the previous week.

The newest issue of his favorite shoujo manga was calling his name.

Not that Yuuki needed to know that.

"Have at it," he said, starting back up the stairs. "Give a shout if you need anything."

Yuuki nodded. Jun heard him searching through the box as he left.

He walked past his kitchen, letting out a heavy breath as he sat down at the small table next to his bed. In terms of space and rent, Jun technically lived in a 1DK but he'd given up the bedroom to use as a practice space, shrinking his actual living space down to a single studio room. It was fine on most days. He didn't spend a lot of time at home not practicing or sleeping.

More importantly, it was what he could afford.

Jun pushed away the meager remains of his dinner - day old fried rice from the convenience store Ryousuke worked at - and picked up his manga.

He heard the metronome start up below him, sharp electronic beeps measuring out a quick beat. He shook his head at Yuuki's insistence on always playing at full tempo. He chose to ignore it in favor of finally finding out which of the suitors Mariko, the manga's heroine, would pick. The climactic decision was coming and he was only pages away.

Yuuki started to play, pulling Jun's eyes down to the floor.

He could hear the low notes of Yuuki's bass. He could hear the rhythm and the constant beep of the metronome.

He could hear Yuuki being wrong.

Jun lasted ten minutes and two pages before he threw the manga onto his bed and marched downstairs.

"They're upbeats!" he shouted, taking the stairs two at a time. Yuuki looked up at him as Jun stalked over to where he stood, pointing at the rhythm in the music. "Upbeats," he stressed.

Yuuki frowned. "I know."

Jun bit his tongue.

He knew Yuuki knew. They played a surprisingly good set only two days ago. That didn't make waiting for the rhythm to sink in any less tortuous.

He picked up the metronome and turned it off before tossing it carelessly at the box. The beeping was starting to hurt his head and he could only tolerate one persistent annoyance at a time. He grabbed his guitar, keeping his back to Yuuki as he plugged into an amp.

Jun eventually met the subtle question in Yuuki's gaze.

"Next time, bring food," he said, pointing a pick at him.

Yuuki nodded easily.

"Okay," Jun said. "From the top."

—

Jun remembered to put on better clothes before answering the door the following Monday.

There wasn't a lot to choose from. He still hadn't done laundry but the jeans he wore all day and a relatively clean shirt made him feel better when faced with Yuuki's neat, pressed professionalism.

Yuuki stood on his front step, holding his case and a plastic bag in either hand. He held the bag out to Jun.

"Ryousuke said you like oyakudon," he said.

Jun laughed which made Yuuki frown, his hand dropping a little.

"Do you not?" he asked.

"I do," Jun said, holding his hand out to accept Yuuki's offering. He stepped back to let Yuuki in, peeking into the bag as Yuuki took off his shoes. There were two bowls and two sets of chopsticks. "I'm just surprised Ryousuke told you the truth. Saying I like goya or something just to mess with me is more his style."

Yuuki picked up his case. He frowned hard like he was struggling with a rhythm.

"Do you not like goya?"

Jun scrunched up his face. "I hate it."

"I see," he said.

Jun shut the door, suddenly feeling uncomfortable being the topic of conversation. He glanced down at the bag in his hand, the floor, and then the hallway to his kitchen.

"Do you want something to drink?" he asked, changing the subject. "I have water and... water."

"I'll take water," Yuuki said, without a hint of judgment. "Thank you."

"Sure," Jun said. "Go ahead. I'll be right down."

Yuuki nodded and headed downstairs.

Jun went to his kitchen and set the bag of food down on the counter. He searched through his limited collection of dishware, selecting two cups that were the most presentable, meaning clean and not cracked. He filled them with ice and water before grabbing the bag and going down to the practice space.

Yuuki had cleared a stack of books and magazines off a neglected end table and placed it between the couch and a chair. Jun set the cups down on the table and began unpacking the food. He handed Yuuki a bowl and chopsticks before taking the other for himself and dropping into the chair.

Jun was three bites in when he had to stop.

"This is really good," he said.

Yuuki set down his water. "It's from a shop in the train station by my office," he said, as if he was considering it for the first time. "It's very popular."

"I can see why," Jun said. Yuuki smiled as Jun ate vigorously, too caught up in the satisfaction of good food to be bothered with polite pacing. He paused about halfway through and sat back in his chair. "Thanks for dinner."

"Thanks for letting me practice here."

Jun shrugged. His letting Yuuki practice wasn't exactly altruistic. If Yuuki got better, the band would be better. It was all in service of Jun's dream.

He set his bowl down and looked at Yuuki.

"So, what else do you do?" he asked. "When you're not butchering our music?"

Yuuki frowned.

Jun laughed.

—

Yuuki liked routine.

He was consistent and predictable. Jun could set his watch by him, if he wore a watch.

It was something Jun learned, gleaned, picked up over time and shared meals eaten in their practice space. He also learned that Yuuki had a degree in management and had been at his job since he graduated from college. He liked it well enough, it paid the bills. He learned Yuuki had a younger brother who was still in college. They talked regularly, on Thursdays, coincidentally, which was probably the only reason Yuuki didn't show up asking to practice on those days too.

But most of all, Yuuki liked routine.

It was that preference towards routine that brought him back to Jun's front step, week after week, Monday after Monday, always with food in hand. After oyakudon it had been curry, paitan ramen, yakitori, and shio salmon.

Today it was okonomiyaki.

And beer.

"Don't make that face!" Jun said, pointing at Yuuki.

In Yuuki's defense, the range of his expressions was small but Jun could tell. He had the advantage, the high ground, standing while Yuuki sat on the couch. He also had years of experience with people's opinions on shoujo manga.

He could tell.

"What face?" Yuuki asked.

"That face," Jun said, stepping up to the end table that separated them, pointing at the amused tilt to Yuuki's mouth. "That 'shoujo is for girls' face."

"But it is? It's in the name."

Jun groaned, his body drooping in disappointment.

"A target demographic doesn't define the entire audience!" he said, gesturing a bit too widely given the beer in his hand. "They're still good stories, they just focus more on people than action. It's like a kids movie," he argued, approaching the table again. "Are you never going to see another kids movie just because you're not the target audience?"

Yuuki blinked, the amusement subtly falling off his face.

"No," he said slowly.

"Exactly," Jun grinned. He took a long, victorious drink from his beer. "It's the same thing."

Yuuki stayed quiet as Jun returned to his seat. He had no rebuttal for Jun's bulletproof argument.

Jun dropped into the chair as he surveyed the remains of the food. He turned at an angle, throwing his leg over the side arm, giving him leverage to reach across the table and pick a neglected piece of pork off Yuuki's plate. He righted himself as he put it into his mouth.

Yuuki didn't seem to notice the theft.

"Do you have a favorite?" he asked.

"I can't pick just one," Jun said, between chewing.

"Which would you recommend?"

"It depends on what you're looking for."

Yuuki frowned, which was a weird response.

It made Jun want to press his finger to Yuuki's brow to see if the crease would go away.

"What's your favorite manga?" he asked instead.

"Lone Wolf and Cub."

Jun laughed.

"Of course it is," he said, not noticing when his laughter floated almost into giggle territory. He tried to take another drink, peering into the bottle when it came up empty. He put it down on the table with the others. "You seem like the type that likes sword fights that go on for a hundred pages."

"It's a story about sacrifice and determination-" Yuuki started.

"It's people fighting with swords," Jun moaned, dragging the words out.

Yuuki smiled, which was a weird response.

Jun narrowed his eyes at him.

"If shoujo is more than just a genre for girls," Yuuki said calmly, "then Lone Wolf and Cub can be more than just people fighting with swords."

Jun stared at Yuuki as he considered his argument.

The stark professionalism that gave Yuuki an untouchable air was gone, shed slowly, piece by piece, over the passing weeks. His tie was gone, the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and his long sleeves were folded up to his elbows. Jun could see his watch, the calluses on his fingers, the flex of his forearms as he turned his beer in his hands. He could see the flush of alcohol that warmed Yuuki's face, the color running down his neck to where lines were still drawn.

It made Jun wonder if Yuuki felt as warm to the touch as he looked.

"I guess you're right," he said, turning his attention away. Having nothing to do with his hands, Jun crossed his arms over his chest. "Maybe we can swap later. You can read some shoujo and I can find out what's so good about sword fights."

Yuuki laughed, brief and soft.

"I'd like that."

"Me too."

Jun glanced at him, feeling his face warm when Yuuki smiled.

He blamed the alcohol.

"Although I expect you to take good care of my books, Yuuki," he said, forcing the usual edge to his tone. "Some of them are out of print."

"I will," Yuuki said with a nod, unquestionable as always. He looked at Jun for a moment before adding, "And Tetsu's fine."

Jun fought the smile trying to overtake his face.

"Jun's fine too."

#fanfic #TetsuJun #AU #rock band!AU #Second String #Fitz fic #Personal opinion: Jun is wrong about bitter melon (goya)#I just needed a food for him to hate and had a lot of trouble coming up with one #And I know a lot of people who don't like bitter melon #Also Jun shouting about upbeats is so funny to me #I can't explain it

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thescentifollow · 4 years

Text

Neighbor - Part 4

Reader x YoungK

Genre: Lecturer Brian au / neighbors au / romance

Word count: 1628

With the sound of the doorbell, you guys came to your senses.

“Aidan is here!”

“Coming in a second.” You answered.

He came to greet you before you could.

“Hey, darling.”

“Hi!” You hugged Aidan. YoungK was a little taken aback by this warm greeting, considering your position just a moment ago.

Trying to not show his perplexity, he fixated a smile on his face. And that smile caught Aidan’s attention.

“Hi there.” Turning you to introduce him.

“That’s YoungK, my new neighbor. This is Aidan, childhood friend and Ashley’s twin brother.” You need the feel to emphasize him being your long-time friend.

“Nice to meet you, I can totally see the resemblance.” Feeling kind of relieved.

He was caught by surprise with the twins’ enthusiastic laughs at his wit.

“I’m glad to see a new face in this circle. It’s quite rare.” He said smiling.

When you finally sat on the table, Meg asked YoungK something you were curious about too.

“Your real name can’t be YoungK, right?”

“No, of course, it’s not.” Laughed and continued, “You can say that it’s my stage name. I am in a band called Day6. But we’re not performing anymore.”

“Oh, why is that?”

“Well, I moved here, two members live in Korea, one is doing his master in Canada and the other one moved back to his birthplace, Argentina.”

“It’s sad to hear, it would be great to see you perform.”

“Maybe when we hold a reunion concert.”

“We’ll be the first ones to get the tickets.” Everyone agreed and laughed.

“So, were you singing or playing an instrument?”

“I rapped, sang and played bass guitar. I haven’t been doing the first two for a while. But I still play guitar from time to time.”

“What a well-rounded man! I’ll be waiting for your reunion concert.” Aidan yelled basically.

Thanks to everyone being easygoing the night went well. Oh, and with a little help of the alcohol.

When you were finally alone, you reviewed the night lying on your bed, but got stuck in one moment especially. The moment you met his gaze.

As you tried to brush it off by saying that you just met him, that you are too busy to date and stuff, you fell asleep. But you were aware that these were just excuses, and deep down you felt something that you hadn’t felt for a long time. He was the one who made it.

Next Monday

As soon as you woke up, you hopped in the shower. Monday is not a busy day for you, thankfully. Just a meeting with your advisor and you can enjoy the rest of the day. But today you also had to run some errands such as grocery shopping and doing laundry. After a morning coffee, you decided to go grocery shopping to get it out of the way as soon as possible. It was a relief to get your car before the start of continuous days with heavy rain, you thought to yourself, while entering the garage. Just then you heard someone calling your name.

“Hey, y/n!”

It was your neighbor Brian, whom you haven’t seen for a week. Being busy with papers and stuff, you didn’t even get a chance to eat properly this past week. But truthfully, he crossed your mind from time to time.

“Hi, what’s up?”

“Nothing much, heading to class. What about you?” He was smiling, but you were both aware that something was off.

“Grocery shopping.” You smiled as you pointed at the shopping bag in your hand.

“Ah… Free day?”

“Sort of. I just have a meeting in the afternoon.”

“I see. How was your trip to New Jersey?”

“It was fine, you know, nothing much.”

“Right. Well, uh… I have to go now.” He said looking at his watch and continued, “But I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, see you. Drive carefully.”

“You too.”

There was a huge awkwardness, that no one could deny, in the air. The words just couldn’t get out of your mouth. Though it wasn’t intentional, it made you both feel uncomfortable. You tried not to overthink and told yourself that it was because you didn’t see each other for a while. Oh, and because of that moment you shared. You haven’t seen each other since that day; therefore, you didn’t get a chance to talk about it. It’s for the best, somethings are meant to be just moments. Nothing more than that.

When you were about to pay at the grocery store, you got a phone call from your advisor. He called off your meeting because of a personal problem that came up. To be honest, you were glad. After being away from home for the weekend, naturally you wanted to spend some time at home.

Even though you prefer spending time home alone, this time you wanted to spend this free time with someone else. It would be a good way to break the ice too.

Knowing he had a class, you decided to text him.

“Are you free after your class?”

You were expecting a text message but instead your phone rang.

“Hello.” You could hear the students saying goodbye to him.

“Hi, I didn’t mean to disturb, sorry.” Taken aback by his unexpected call.

“No, you weren’t, my class just ended.” You were about to answer but then he kept talking.

“But I’m going to Virginia today for a 3 days long conference.”

“Oh…” You sounded a little bit disappointed.

Then he offered something, “How about this? You water my plants for 3 days and when I’m back let’s watch a movie together.”

“Sounds good.”

“I’ll text you once the plane lands. Oh, you can find the keys under the doormat and there are 4 plants in the house, one in the living room, two in the kitchen and one in my bedroom. Thanks a lot.”

“Got it. No problem. Bye.” You felt a little bit frustrated but chose to just let it go. It’s not like you’re close enough to feel this way.

After finishing laundry too, you decided to reward yourself, as if you’ve done something great, by watching a movie. But when you think about it, just to survive the first day of the week feels like a success.

You prepared a cup of green tea and wrapped yourself in a blanket. After choosing Before Sunrise to watch for the hundredth time, it’s finally time to enjoy yourself.

Halfway through the movie, a text message destroyed the whole mood. Annoyed, you decided to check the message as soon as possible and get back to your movie.

“Y/n~ What are you up to? I’m at the hotel right now.” Seeing him being the one who texted eased your annoyance a little.

“Just recharging.”

He smiled at the picture attached to your text.

He answered as soon as he saw the scene from the movie by saying, “Ah, that movie is a classic! When I’m back let’s watch Before Sunset too.”

You were surprised at his sudden excitement and enthusiastic answer. To be honest men usually don’t like to admit that they like romance movies. That’s why, even though his offer was not a big deal, it was enough for you to see his soft side.

“Sounds good.” You answered.

He answered, “Great, I’m looking forward to it.”

A few more texts about how tired he was and what your plans for tomorrow are were exchanged between each other before you went back to the movie.

This movie always makes you feel all kinds of emotions at the same time because it’s so real. Their meeting, emotions and how they represent them. This movie has a great impact on how you perceive love.

Feeling peaceful thanks to the masterpiece you just watched for the hundredth time, you went to his place to water the plants. As you came in, you realized things were a quite different than before. He had finally unpacked all boxes and put some baubles and pictures around.

Because you didn’t want to want to hover like a stalker, you decided to do what you need to do as soon as possible. You knew what having a stalker means and frankly it wasn’t pleasant.

His tidiness totally baffled you. The kitchen, nothing left unwashed or left on the kitchen counter. Same goes for the living room. Everything is in the proper place, nothing out of ordinary.

“Then his bedroom must be a complete mess.” You murmured.

Contrary to your guess, it was quite neat. His bed was a little messy though. So, you were not totally wrong.

Just when you were about to leave the house a picture on the coffee table next to the comfy looking sofa in the living room caught your attention. There were Brian and four other boys next to him, one of them holding a birthday cake. They were all good looking. Some could even go crazy for such guys.

“So, this must be Day6…”

You smiled at the wholesomeness of the photo. Then Brian caught your eye, as always. His indifference in the picture didn’t fail to make you laugh. You lifted your head and looked around. You could see parts of him everywhere. A sweet peacefulness filled your heart.

“I like it. I… I like him…” Finally confessing to yourself.

You remembered what Meg said a long time ago, “When you have feelings for someone, they get all your attention. And if you try to avoid it, it gets worse.”

You did listen to her last time. It had severe consequences. But it’s almost impossible to live the same thing again, right?

You were torn between the two choices. Should you show your feelings or just keep avoiding until they disappear?

I thought of this picture while writing that part of the story. so wholesome :’)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

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lostincalum · 4 years

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Nothing Flashed Before My Eyes- Michael Clifford AU

AN: It’s here, without being queer (I’m sorry I had to) after months i have finally finished this monstrosity, idk what to say tbh. But if you do read I hope you enjoy and leave a coment if you enjoyed.

TW: schizofrenia, attempted suicide, self harm, alcoholism (i promise i have tried to describe them as neutral as I could)

Word count: 8k (issa long boi from me)

“Nothing flashed before my eyes.”

I spoke softly as I stared up at the sterile white of the roof.

“What do you mean?”

He asked carefully, as though I would shatter and the world would collapse if he spoke any louder.

“When I took the pills…”

Suddenly the words were harder to speak, my throat clogging up. I looked at him, straight into his eyes. His cold, emerald- eyes. It seems like he has lost all hope for me.

“… everything kind of just stopped for a minute. And then I went to bed, hoping to never wake up. But there was no pretty angels, and no bright light, just nothing”

He looked at me, as if I had just told him God and heaven didn’t exist. I suppose I had. Then he walked out the door. Not looking back once.

----

Walking through the doors to the psych ward is scary. I’ve been to a couple before, but this place feels different, and I don’t get why I’m here. It looks too stupid expensive. With the soft white walls and view over the city. With the stupid billowing curtains and stupid leather couches. It looks like a normal house, except really big and spacious. I hate it already.

When my mum puts her hand on my shoulder, it feels like the weight of the world is dropped there. And while I know it is meant to be a comforting gesture, I can’t help but think that I don’t want anyone else to touch me today. I feel suffocated in the openness of the building, that I know my step-dad paid his way into.

“Hi and welcome to Hollywood Heights treatment centre.”-

I turn at the sound of a female voice that is way too happy for this place, and I’m met with the blue eyes of a petite lady. The only way for me to spot that she is in fact not a patient is her ID card that is fastened at her belt hoop. Her brown hair is short and spiky.

Mum rushes forward, taking her hand off of my shoulder, but leaving the weight, to shake the hand of the lady.

“Hey, I’m Mary, thank you so much for taking in my daughter. We appreciate it so much.”

I give her a tight lipped smile.

“Oh, there are no worries Mary! and you must be Riley?”

She directs the question at me, and I nod quietly, letting my eyes flicker over the flowers that are spread across the different surfaces in the entrance and reception area.

“Well, let’s just get you officially admitted, and we can begin the little tour.”

I have a sinking feeling this is gonna be anything but a “little” tour.

----

After thirty minutes of walking around the house and being shown every possible nook and cranny as well as its function, I have some time in my room.

Mum left a couple of minutes ago after she got a call from work, that she was needed. Immediately of course.

I start unpacking my bag, it isn’t a lot, mostly sweatpants and long sleeves. But I also brought my laptop and a few different chargers. I sit down on the not too hard mattress of the bed and stare at the annoyingly soft, white colour of the wall, until it isn’t white anymore.

The wall isn’t white, it’s red. Trails of red teardrops slither down the wall in front of me. I watch as it reaches the floor and starts sliding towards my bed, the bed where I’m sitting, as if the floor is tilted.

This isn’t gonna end well for you, dear.

Slowly I find the pattern and as my heart skips a beat, my converse clad feet jump around the floor as I try to reach the door. When I finally do, and twist the door handle, I slam it shut behind me. Leaning against the door, it feels like my knees are about to give out underneath me and my eyes are way to warm and stingy.

“You alright?”

I whip my head around and suddenly my eyes are met with a pair of green ones. I can’t quite make them out ‘cause of the fringe covering one of his eyes, and the dark pupil of his other eye. But I’m positive that his eyes are green. I quickly look behind me as I turn around, pulling the sleeves of my loose henley down my arms, and start walking away.

“I’m fine,” my voice comes out somewhat smothered, but I don’t hear any footsteps following me. I just hear the thud of something dropping to the ground. I don’t turn around. I don’t want to turn around. But I do. And I find his head cocked ever so slightly to the side, but still attached to his neck.

Got you, hahaha

“Fuck you,” I mumble to myself, turning around for the second time and continuing to walk god knows where.

-------

I find myself in the music room. Out of all the things I hate here, I really hate this place the most. I love music so much, but they’ve managed to make this even this room feel strange. It’s not that they’ve not put any effort into it. They’ve overdone it. A lot of the places I’ve been to before have had instruments and music rooms, but this is too over the top. Brand new drum kits, never used guitars, both acoustic and electric, and a selection of basses that have never been touched. The ivory keys of the grand piano have barely been played. That’s the moment I know that’s where I’ll be spending most of my time. Wearing in all the instruments.

Coincidentally that is also where I am disturbed first. I jump a little when I hear crackling coming from the corner of the room. The voice belongs to Linda, the lady who showed me around when I arrived.

“If all patients would come to the kitchen, dinner is about to be served.”

I sigh and walk out of the room, headed for the kitchen area. When I’m in the stairs I pass by a tall blonde with curly hair and a bright smile. However, it is bright in a different way than what Linda had. More like friendly, which I find hard to believe in, considering where I’m at.

“Hey, you must be Riley, right?”

She puts forward a hand, expecting me to shake it. I just nod, but it doesn’t seem to affect her, as she puts her hand back into the pocket of her jeans, but continues to talk.

“I’m Lucy, I’ll be your psychiatrist while you stay here, I have to go right now, but enjoy your dinner, and I’ll see that you get a message tomorrow for our first official session.”

I nod again, and as I start to walk down the stairs, she doesn’t call after me, doesn’t stop me, she just lets me go. And I appreciate that.

When I get to the kitchen, it is bustling with something that looks like life. I find it a little bit funny, that something that is so depressing in the media, is so lively in real life. A couple of girls are chatting beside each other and a boy and a girl look like they are sitting a little too close to each other, because not a second later Linda is pulling the girl away from the boy.

I stand in the entrance and watch as a man puts two pots containing some sort of stew in it on the table, it doesn’t smell bad.

The only spot left by the table is in front of a guy in a black hoodie, that he has pulled over his head, but I swear I can see his blonde fringe from here. I step further into the room and a round, tall man introduces himself to me as Johnny.

Maybe we should cut his head open and put a mixer in his brain.

“Or maybe not,” all I do is hope that no one hears me whispering as I walk to the open spot.

Carefully I sit down in front of the boy in the black hoodie, and start fiddling with the fork. He looks up from his phone when he hears me picking up the fork. To be honest I expect him to look at me with sort of an insulted look, but he doesn’t. His eyes, albeit a bit sad, are filled with curiosity.

“Hey, I’m Michael,” he smiles as he reaches out his right hand.

“Riley’s the name,” I look at him, shaking his hand briefly but firmly and go back to playing with the fork.

“You want a little tip for staying here?” Michael says as his eyes dance over my appearance. He continues to do so, until he notices my eyes, and pulls the hood of his sweater down.

“Sure,” the fact that I’m constantly avoiding his eyes; must be annoying for him. I must seem like the most arrogant person he has ever met. Yet he continues to talk to me.

“Keep something to yourself, not something big or scary. But something, a dream, a hope, a fantasy, just for yourself. That way you can keep a part of you.”

He looks at me with these deep green eyes, and for the first time in a while, green doesn’t make me feel sick and empty. It doesn’t make me feel as excited as before, more on the safe side.

You still don’t get it? nowhere is safe for you, I will ruin anything and everything for you.

I roll my eyes as he whispers in you ear, his hands on my shoulders pressing down harder. To get rid of the feeling I roll my shoulders and try to focus on the conversation as well as my surroundings.

“Why? aren’t we supposed to do as they say and answer every question?”

It feels like a stupid question, because what he is saying makes sense, to me at least. A small, but tired smile makes it way onto his lips.

“Common misconception, but no. If you do that, they have the knowledge to persuade, control, almost own you. Not everyone knows all of themselves, but you seem like you do.”

The cheeky wink he sends me doesn’t go unnoticed, but as a bowl of pasta is set down in front of us, he engages in a conversation on his left side.

“How you doing Sandra, everything go well in your session today?”

To be honest, Michael seemed like the person that took care amongst the patients. Like he wanted to make sure that everyone was alright. As he talked to Sandra, I could tell that he genuinely cared about what she had to say.

“Okay, everyone, get ready for grace.”

Johnny announces as he sits down at the head of the table, opposite to the side where me and Michael are sitting. Everyone reaches their hands out and as the girl to my right reaches out a hand I hold it carefully, not really wanting to be touched more than necessary. Michael reaches out a hand, and I think he gets it, cause he holds me gingerly, but without fear. Like he isn’t scared that I’ll break any second.

After we finish grace, Johnny stands up and looks at me, with a kind smile.

“So everyone, we have a new patient here today, her name is Riley. Give her a warm welcome, and take care of eachother.”

I pull my hands into my sweater sleeves and give them all a nod as they all look at me. Some of them nodding back. The girl Michael was talking to even let out a little “hi”.

---------

Being social has always been difficult for me, and as I sit here in my bedroom, I have no idea of what to do with myself. I’m sat in the only chair in the room. It’s hard plastic and I can tell it is going to annoy me for a while. I don’t wanna look at the wall anymore so I pick up my phone and start scrolling through different media.

On all of them, he is there, looking so fucking innocent, too fucking innocent. Like he has moved on from what I did to myself, what I did to us. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that he is ignoring it like this, so easy.

There are two sharp raps on the door, and it opens, invading my space and making me jump slightly. Linda is standing in the doorway, with her bright fake smile on her lips.

“Hi, Riley group therapy starts in three minutes, you should come-” she smiles at me.

“It is mandatory, but if you don’t feel like going your first day that’s alright too.” It feels like she is trying to force me to go with her eyes.

“Nah, I think I’ll go next time.”

At last you get something right

“Okay, please let us know if there is something we can do for you.” Linda says before she closes the door behind her, leaving me alone with my own head.

----

I go to sleep shortly after getting my medicine handed to me from Johnny. Here, like all other institutions we aren’t allowed to have our own medicine at our own disposal. And I think that might be a good thing.

------

I wake up still rattled from a nightmare. My alarm is still blaring beside me and I turn to shut it off, just as there is a knock on my door. Linda walks in not a second later.

“Breakfast is in five minutes, you’ve slept in for long enough now.”

The fake smile, everything about her ticks me off, especially her condescending tone of voice. I just nod and start getting out of bed, she stares at my thighs and I know she has seen the scars that litter the top of them. I’m just glad I still have my long sleeve covering my arms.

“I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

Linda walks out of my room, but still throws a last glance at my thighs. Looking as if they suddenly might attack her or come alive. As the door shuts behind her I look down at my legs, feeling ashamed.

You deserve these, after all you did it to yourself.

“No, you made me do this, you said-”

And you listened. Honestly, one would think you to be stronger.

“Yeah? Fuck you”.

I go about my routine, which is basically changing my top and putting on deodorant. I also put on a pair of sweatpants and socks before going out the door and to the kitchen on the first floor.

When I exit I also see another person closing her door. I recognize her as Sandra. The girl Michael was talking to at dinner yesterday. She looks at me and smiles, and starts heading for me.

“Hi, are you ready for breakfast?”

She smiles at me. Her body is covered in a big knit sweater and baggy jeans, like she is trying to hide herself from the world.

You could just grab a kitchen knife and stab her between her ribs.

I close my eyes for less than a second and look at her, seeing her tired eyes and messy hair. In that second I can’t help but think that her and I will be good friends.

“Yeah, I think so. You?”

We start walking towards the kitchen and I feel the weight on my shoulders pressing me down.

“Not really, but I can’t give up now.”

Sandra looks down at her feet, which causes me to ask her a question out of curiosity.

“What do you mean?”

She looks at me nervously, before she starts talking again.

“Well, I’m not that good at eating? I suppose.”

I nod trying to come across as understanding, as she looks at me like she expects me to come up with some big ol’ scream, instead I decide to “become even”.

“It’s quite alright, I’m not that good at living.”

And I think this was one of the best things I could have said, cause she smiles at me and lets out a little giggle, as we enter the kitchen. Everyone else seems to be there, at least the people from yesterday, I still haven’t talked to anyone else though.

Sandra and I sit down at the same places as we sat yesterday at dinner. She is immediately engaged in a conversation with the same guy from yesterday, the one she was pulled away from. He leans in for a hug and her frame is engulfed by his rather muscular one. With red tinted cheeks she turns to look at me.

“Chris, this is Riley.”

Chris leans back in his seat, with an arm thrown around the back of Sandra’s chair. He looks at me kind of judgey before giving me a nod of approval, at least that’s what it looks like. I give him a nod back, but before he can say anything our attention is pulled towards two girls entering the kitchen. One of them looks like she has been crying and the other holds a comforting hand on her back as they sit down beside me.

They’re here to kill you

Yeah right, and I’m here to listen to you….

-----

After breakfast, as I’m headed up the stairs, I hear soft chords coming from the music room. Someone is strumming a guitar and it’s like I’m hearing music for the first time. Not only music but one of the prettiest voices I have ever heard is singing along to the song.

I have a vague feeling in the pit of my stomach that I know who is playing. I walk closer to the open doors, and as I see Michael sitting on the floor playing the guitar that previously hung on the wall, I kind of melt a little. His fringe and the little crease between his brows, it’s all very enamoring.

“I’m alright, I’m Okay, I’m alright I’m okay, I’m not a monster just a human and I’ve made a few mistakes.”

Not gonna happen for you though.

We’ll see about that, I think to myself.

He sings the words so carefully like he doesn’t quite believe them. He finishes the song and looks up, seeing me in the doorway. Immediately the frown is back, but not as enamouring, more suspicious. It almost hides the blush that is lightly covering his cheeks.

“Sorry, I can come back later.”

I say as he puts the guitar down and gets up.

“No no, do you play?” he inquires, seemingly having gathered himself.

“Ehh, a little bit of everything.” I answer as he looks at me.

Not as well as you like to think.

I roll my eyes as I look down on the floor, hoping he doesn’t see.

“A little bit of everything eh?” Michael says.

“Yeah, I was taught the piano from a young age, and a bit of bass and guitar. Drums aren’t the worst, but anything that makes me use my mouth to make it work isn't for me to play, how about you though?” I say as he stares at me quizzically.

“Well I’m self taught at guitar so I can’t really write or read music, but I still like to think I know how to.”

He stares down at his feet a little bashfully.

“Well, you have a good voice, it’s strong and vulnerable at the same time. I really like the song you were playing as well.”

“You do? I haven’t actually written it myself it’s called ‘It’s alright’ by-”

“Mother Mother, I know. I really like it.”

We stare at each other for a second before we both burst out in giggles. It’s been a while since I have smiled like this.

You know this won’t last.

---------

Group therapy is the first thing that happens that week. It’s always between breakfast and lunch. And I walk from the music room with Michael right after the call comes on the radio thing that crackles in the corner of the room. We walk side by side until we come to the hallway with all the bedrooms in it. He stops by the door that is closest to the stairs, three doors down from me.

“You aren’t going to group therapy?”

I ask, and hope the disappointment isn’t as obvious in my voice as it feels.

“Nah, I don’t do group.”

Michael says with a secretive, yet tired smile, and I decide not to press the matter, even though it felt like a weird thing to come from him, considering how caring of the others he seems to be.

“Well, I’ll see you at dinner then.”

He nods as he opens the door and I take that as my cue to leave.

-----

“Hello and welcome back to group therapy. For some of us, this is the first time we’re here, others have been here before.”

Lucy starts off the session with everyone I’ve seen sitting in a circle and it looks more like an AA meeting than anything else.

“Since we have a new patient here today I think we should all take turns and say what’s on our minds.”

She smiles at us, and it doesn’t seem as fake as it could have been.

“Why don’t you start Riley?”

With the friendly smile she gives me, I should have been able to meet her gaze, but a big, looming, black figure is standing behind her, so I opt to look at my feet instead.

“Well, hi, my name is Riley and today I don’t feel much like living, like most days.”

My voice comes out tired and drawn out, and I can see Lucy crossing her legs and readying her notepad in anticipation.

------

The days go like this, we do group therapy as well as one on one, and I discover that Lucy isn’t like most other psychiatrists. She listens when I talk, and helps me figure out different kinds of things. It is probably in my journal, but she hasn’t asked about the voices yet. And I prefer it like that.

I have also started to connect more with Michael. We both sit in the music room and wear in all the instruments, although the most frequently used ones are the piano and guitars. He has the sweetest voice when he sings: vulnerable, but still confident.

A few days ago he let me follow his instagram, and ever since I have been staring, wondering how to read him. He seems so different from the person he is here. Always surrounded by friends and always laughing it seems. Yet there is something that still bothers me. He always seems to be at a party. The glassed over look in his eyes, and the red cup in his hand. The photos seem to be posted in a small time frame, almost like he’s partying every other day. And suddenly I get what has been right in front of me since I first saw his instagram. At least I think I do.

One day we are sitting in the music room and it’s right before dinner. That’s when I decide to address my own thoughts.

“Michael, can I ask you something?”

He looks at me, like he always does, with these understanding, green eyes of his. So patient and calm. Like the green water that comes from glacier ice. We’re sat beside each other on the piano stool after playing around on the grand piano.

“You know you can ask me anything, right Riles?”

Michael bumps my knee with his, as he gives me one of his most reassuring smiles. And I feel the lump in my chest grow.

“Well, I was just wondering-”

I hate this, I should back down, but I can’t stop now and before I can really think it through the words tumble out of my mouth.

“Do you have an alcohol problem?”

And the shift is immediate. His body goes rigid, he stops fiddling with the keys on the piano and his brows furrow.

“Not that question though, that is none of your business.”

I can see him shutting me out. He gets up just as Linda’s voice crackles through the room, calling us to dinner. Before I know it he has slammed the door to the music room shut, making me jump.

How did you really think this would go? That he would open up to you and cry on your shoulder? You really are more stupid than we thought.

The weight that had been lightening on my shoulder immediately goes back to crushing me, and regret is all I feel. What if I have ruined our friendship?

Probably.

When I enter the kitchen everyone is already seated and saying grace. I decide not to intrude as they complete. Opting to watch everyone else holding hands and in varying degrees keeping up with Linda who is leading grace.

They finish and once I get to the table and sit down on my usual spot, Linda scowls at me. I don’t really care for it. Just the fact that Michael doesn’t even look up when my chair scrapes across the floor, I hate it. I hate it so much.

Sandra looks at me quizzically. Usually me and Michael come down together from the music room, or we talk about music or books or anything that crosses our minds. The fact that he won’t even look at me is unusual to say the least. Which causes the entire dinner to be awkward. It’s like we have thrown the entire house off. Or I. I guess I did this.

Of course you did, who else?

----

Michael is the first to leave dinner, and I follow shortly after. I go straight to my room to get dressed. There is a little swing in the garden which overlooks the entire city, and I feel like the walls are closing in on me. I need some fresh air.

I just throw on a hoodie and grab my ear buds, putting them in my ears as I walk down the stairs and out the door.

I sit down on the porch swing in the garden and find a good loud song to shut out all my thoughts. I must have been sitting here for a few minutes when Sandra sits down beside me, making me jump a little.

“How are you?”

She asks this so softly, and I pull out my ear buds.

“Not too good to be honest.”

Her hands fiddle with the ends of her scarf as she looks at me.

“I figured, wanna talk about it?”

I can feel myself wanting to let it all out. I feel lonely already without the tiny touches from Michael. Fuck.

“I just, I don’t know, I think I might have made a big mistake.”

Sandra looks at me, gives me one of those looks, that says she already knows what this is about, but she has the decency to ask me anyway.

“What’s going on?”

Sighing feels like the only thing I can do.

“I, well it isn’t my place to tell, but I asked Michael something that I shouldn’t have asked about, and now he is mad at me. And I mean, he has every right to be angry, but it hurts.”

This time it is Sandra’s turn to sigh.

“You asked him why he’s here?”

“Something along those lines.”

“You should know Riley, that he has been here longer than most of us, and the walls he has built are so tall. When Chris first came here, he didn’t really understand why Michael was here. So he lashed out, and kept yelling about how Michael didn’t deserve to be here, and how he was more of an employee here than a patient. It definitely took a toll on him, even though Chris has apologized.”

“Do you know why he is here?”

I can’t stop myself from asking. I know I shouldn’t, but the words already slipped out of my mouth.

“No, I figured we all have our reasons and he doesn’t have to share them if he doesn’t feel like it, we owe him at least that.”

The sun is setting now, and the light reflects on us making warm hues glimmer across the city beneath us, as well as Sandra’s cheeks. Her hair looks like a black halo with golden edges.

“Yeah, maybe I should go apologize?”

“No-” she turns to look at me.

“You shouldn’t apologize, he needs to be asked this sort of questions if he ever wants to learn to live with whatever he is dealing with.”

I can’t help but agree with what she is saying.

-----

Lucy has one of the few nice rooms in the building, her office is more welcoming than I ever thought a psychiatric office could be. There is a good, comfortable two seat sofa in one corner of the room. Her desk is neat, but looks lived in for some reason. It’s like she has been here for a good part of her life. With a pair of running shoes, a couple of jackets hanging on the hooks by the door. But my most favourite thing about her office is the window though, which has a good look over the wild side behind the house.

That is where I’m looking when Lucy says my name, probably for the second time.

“Riley, how are you? You seem very distracted today.”

I look down at my hands, wondering how I’m gonna phrase this.

“I am.”

She cocks her head to the side, indicating for me to continue. I can’t though, it always has been easier for me to answer questions than to just tell someone what’s wrong.

“I noticed you and Michael haven’t been hanging out? it seemed like the two of you got a really good connection, what’s happened?”

“We can talk about anything else, just not that, not right now.”

And in this moment I swear I think she really cares.

But why would she care about you?

“Your suicide attempt then? The nurses wrote that you had a visitor when you woke up?”

Of course, it had to come eventually, I’m just surprised it took her this long.

“Yeah, there was.”

“Who was he?”

“Well since you know it’s a boy, you probably also know who he was to me.”

She looks at me with these really sad eyes. It’s pity, I know it’s pity, and I feel nauseous.

“I do, he’s mentioned in your papers a lot.”

“God, I know, I was so stupid back then.”

I sigh, trying to avoid the lump in the back of my throat.

“You weren’t stupid.”

“No, I was in love, and I hated it and it’s not gonna- it can’t happen again.”

I can hear myself, how pathetic I sound, and I can’t stop the tears from streaming out of my eyes, and down my cheeks.

“Riley, you are never stupid for having feelings.”

She sounds so stupid, so naive when she says that. She probably married her first love. I can see the ring on her finger, just taunting me by showing me what I can’t ever have.

Now you’re starting to get it.

“I am though, ‘cause it’s always the wrong feeling, or too much of it, too little, whatever it is, it’s never right.”

Lucy crosses and uncrosses her legs before speaking up again.

“So you’ve decided to not feel?”

Her saying this, it feels a bit like an insult, cause here I am, crying trying to bare my soul to her. And she accuses me of trying to not feel?

“Oh I feel, I’m heartbroken, and sad and scared, I’m frustrated and desperate.”

---

After my session with Lucy I’m tired, so when the screaming from my room increases I’m not really surprised. What surprises me is that they are screaming for mercy now. I don’t know what to do, but I can hear the most graphic noises coming from behind my door. The cries for help increase, as does the laughter. And just like that, I’m in tears for the second time today.

This time however, it’s different. I’m alone and the voices I know are just in my head, sound too real to be fantasy. I slide down the wall, not wanting to go inside my room, in fear of what I’ll meet. A mantra begins to escape my lips and I close my eyes while patting all my pockets for my earbuds.

“Please just stop, please just stop, please just stop,” escapes me over and over.

Suddenly, like lightning from clear sky I feel a presence sitting down beside me. His voice is calm as he says, “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Michael is sitting beside me, I know him by his rough voice and the scent of him, laundry detergent, encompasses me entirely. My room goes quieter, and I start to get my bearings again. Wiping my eyes, I stand up and look at Michael. His eyes are red rimmed and he looks tired, but there is something familiar about it. His drooping, squinty eyes, for some reason he looks hungover. He can’t possibly be.

“I should probably, I mean, I’ll see you around.”

I stutter out, before I say something I shouldn’t. And before he has the time to respond I open the door and slip in. Not without missing the soft “fuck” he lets out, which makes me wonder if i have made a mistake.

When don’t you make mistakes?

I lean my back against the door, and sigh looking towards the bathroom, feeling the need for release really fast.

---

I get a snap from Sandra, whilst I’m sitting on the bathroom floor. It’s a picture of the living room, and if I squint I can see Johnny in the background of the screen. I put the camera of the phone down on my jeans and take a black picture. With shaking hands I type:

“Can you ask Johnny to come to my room?”

A few seconds later I get back a picture of Johnny exiting the living room with the text: “On his way, you alright?”

Before I have the time to respond there is a nock on my door, before it opens.

“Where are you Riley?”

His calm and steady voice made me feel worse. How the fuck am I supposed to explain this.

“Bathroom, you can come in.”

I feel the tears burning behind my eyes again, and the short relief I felt is gone, replaced with regret. Johnny stands in the doorway looking at me before taking another step closer and turning my wrist up to assess the damage I have done to myself.

“Okay, I’ll get you stitched up and then we can talk about what has happened?”

All I can do is nod my head as he helps me stand up. He folds a towel over my arms, tells me to cross them and then we head for the medical room. It is just down the hall, and I suspect that it’s no coincidence that it’s placed so close to the patient rooms.

Luckily we don’t pass anyone in the hallway, and I think I’m in the clear.

I lay on the medical chair as Johnny administrates the local anesthesia. It feels like something is stinging underneath my skin, until it all goes numb.

“I didn’t know you were allowed to stitch people up here?”

Conversation is a desperate attempt at distraction for me, but I’m grateful that he goes along with it anyway.

“Yeah, it’s just me and a few others who have the training though.”

He says as he methodically works his way through the routine I have witnessed too many times.

“How did you get the training, was it hard?”

Johnny is one of the very few who don’t use the rolling chair as he preps everything, but he has left it by the side of my reclined seat.

“Well, the military is pretty hard most would say, but as I learned things got easier, and when it’s all about saving a brother in arms, I suddenly just knew how to apply the things we had learned as recruits.”

This I kind of saw coming, but not the medic part. His burly build and calm exterior always reminded me of my father, who was a tank driver.

“My dad was in the armed forces, he died there too.”

Johnny turns around and rolls the tray with the needle and thread over. He then sits down on the chair and threads the needle as he talks.

“I’m sorry to hear, when did this happen?”

The weird thing is that this conversation doesn’t feel forced, even though this is something I hate talking about.

“I was like ten I think? So about ten years ago.”

Johnny nods, and it feels like he knows what he knows what I’m talking about. I realise that he has probably read it in my file, but it doesn’t bother me as much as it should, after all he knows how it is.

We continue to talk about all of this while he stitches me up. When he finishes up he suggests to me to take a nap to which I agree. Johnny puts on some huge medical bandages and follows me back to my room, which has been cleaned. I suspect Johnny sent a message to someone.

———

I’m woken up by aching in my arm and a cursed knocking on my door. Linda walks in before i can even say “come in”. I couldn’t have even if I wanted to. My throat feels dry as Linda sits down beside me.

“Come on, get up! it’s time for breakfast.”

And it’s so typical her, to not ask me how I’m doing, no sympathy. And for the first time in a while I don’t feel so choked. Perhaps for the wrong reasons, but the feeling of being treated like a normal person, no matter what I did yesterday.. it sort of feels good actually.

However, I’m not gonna let her know that so I just silently nod while sitting up in the bed.

When I come down to the kitchen everybody is already there, except for one person. Judging by the chair that pushed back from the table, Michael has already left.

As people sit and chat I go over to the counter and start making myself a cup of tea. Tea making and drinking is a part of being inpatient no one told me about, although I suppose it’s different for everyone. It has just become a thing I do everyday several times.

With my sweater pawed hands holding the tea cup, I’m sitting here listening to the other patients talk, smiling at the appropriate moments and sometimes laughing a bit. And in contrast to the last couple of weeks, it doesn’t feel entirely forced.

———

It’s late in the evening, I have walked past the porch and over to the edge of the garden, behind a tree. It shields from the view of the windows of the house and I’ve never actually been here. But it looks peaceful so I sit down at the base of the tree and overlook the city. I still can’t believe I agreed to this. Being so far away from all that I knew physically hasn’t changed me mentally, no matter how much mum wishes it did. She calls sometimes, but I feel like I would have to lie to her every time so i don’t answer at all. I know she still gets weekly reports when she calls the office lady, even though I never quite figured out where she has her office.

“Hey there.”

I look up and I’m met with emerald green eyes, hidden behind a pair of glasses I’ve never seen Michael wear. He doesn’t ask permission or anything before he sits down. I suppose he doesn’t have too either.

“Hey, I can leave if you want some time alone or something.”

The words fall out of my mouth before I have the time or sense to think them through, and sooner than I expected I’m standing up. Until I’m not anymore. My hands are firmly planted in the ground behind my back, upper body bent and ready to get up, when I feel his calloused palm holding onto my wrist. It’s too close, I know it is. And again, I act too quickly. This time by pulling my hand towards myself, thereby sitting back down.

“Please stay. Unless you don’t want to of course.”

And it hurts. God it hurts to just hear the hurt and resignation in his voice.

“No no, I’ll stay.”

For the first time that evening I really, really take a good look at him. He looks tired, more so that usual. With a beanie covering his messy hair, dark circles under his eyes, and a beard that hasn’t been shaved in a couple of days.

“I have a feeling we have a lot to talk about.”

Michael sighs, and I know he dreads the conversation by the way his fingers immediately go to the strings of his hoodie, fiddling with them incessantly, when I tell him.

“Yeah, I suppose I owe you an explanation.”

He is still looking at his hands, as if searching for answers.

“You don’t owe me anything Michael, but I will take an explanation if you want to tell me?”

Again he sighs, probably debating how much he should tell me.

“Well, this is gonna be messy, but I just want to try to explain this so you can better understand why I act the way I do.”

Michael pulls his legs up to his chest and puts his hand on his knee. For the first time in a long long while I seek contact first. I put my hand on his and give it what I hope is an encouraging squeeze. Before I wrap my arms around myself again.

“You know as well as I do that treatment at this place isn’t for the poor, or even the middle class, it is kind of stupid really, how they leave treatment for those well off, fucking ridiculous.”

Carefully I speak his name and he looks at me.

“Right, sorry. My dad is a really successful businessman, and we were always well off, but I think it came with its consequences. As I grew up, I was surrounded by all these rich bastards who were always looking for a deal, and I was a part of the picture perfect family. Except we weren’t.”

He looks away from his hands and up at the sky, I follow his gaze and see a few tiny little stars. A shadow flickers in the corner of my eyes, and I know it’s not real, and it gives me a little sting of fear anyways.

“I mean, sure we had everything we could ever ask for, except maye love. My mum and dad were constantly fighting behind closed doors and I grew up listening to them. She started doing more business meetings further away from me and my father, and I was so angry with my father for driving her away. So I started distancing myself, I can’t have been older than eighteen.”

I shuffle a little closer to Michael, feeling his warmth through his hoodie. Hoping it comforts him, but also that the shadow won’t see me.

“When you started…”

I’m not sure how much I can say to Michael without him getting angry, so I let the ending of the sentence hang in the air for a while.

“When I started drinking. It didn’t really start as an issue where I consciously went looking for solace in alcohol, but as I partied more and more, and found some sort of relief in it, i actively sought it out. I don’t remember a lot of the last couple of years, except for headaches and bottles. I also had shitty friends who kept pushing me to drink more.”

My heart truly aches for him. But at the same time, I know I couldn’t have helped him anyway. Maybe I can’t help him now either, but I can be here for him. And I intend to do so.

“It ended when I came home one night and my dad was home for once. A magazine was spread out on the kitchen table with me on the front page. It wasn’t pretty. He was so ashamed of me, said some pretty ugly stuff. As did I, cause what he said really hurt. I came here to be a forced inpatient. But after a few weeks, after horrible abstinences, and a solid few rounds around my own head, I accepted where I was and decided to be better, by doing better.”

Just as I’m about to say something the grip on my shoulder tightens, and I flinch a little. He doesn’t seem to notice though.

“That’s why, when you so easily saw through me, I was scared you too would be angry and ashamed, so I found it better to just shut you out. I made a really big mistake, some of my old friends stopped by with a bottle of something awful. I mean after shutting you out, nothing felt right and for a second I thought drinking would help, it didn’t. And the day after, when I found you in the hallway. I regretted it so badly, and I just want you to know, that nothing of this is your fault. I hope you can see that. ”

Finally he looks at me, and I can see his eyes, searching mine for an answer.

“I’m not angry or ashamed, I’m proud actually. For as much as it counts for, I’m proud of you for being able to push through this and for having the guts to talk to me about it.”

He takes a hold of my hand and intertwine our fingers. I don’t notice at first, and when I do it is too late. My sleeve has slid down on my arm and exposed the bandage covering it.

“Riley, you didn’t have this a couple of days ago..”

Michael lets the sentence hang in the air as I try to find the right words. He looks so sad.

“You do not owe me an explanation. Just so we’re clear on that, but know that I’m here for you.”

I nod and squeeze his hand, before pulling to me to study the bandage. It should be changed soon.

“You know, you reminded me of my ex-”

His expression says it all, he really doesn’t like where this is going.

“when i first came here. You have the same eyes, almost at least. Yours are a lot warmer, kinder. And you easily read people, respect their limits. David didn’t. He was always pushing for me to be perfect and well, it sounds a lot like your parents. In the end, when my schizofrenia got too much and I attempted suicide, I didn’t fit into his world anymore, and he left me alone in the hospital. Mum came by after a couple of days later, after her trip to wherever with her new husband. He works as a contractor or some shit, so he is paying for this.”

The frustration I feel as I explain this, I don’t know how to put it into words. However, Michael seems to understand.

“I harm myself because the voices tell me to. And it gives me some sort of twisted peace. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Michael shuffles closer to me, so we sit arm to arm, and I lean my head on his shoulder. For the first time in a long while I really like the world is a little safer.

“Wanna make a deal?”

I ask as I sit there. Hoping he will agree.

“Depends on the deal.”

“Well, I was just thinking, maybe if we promise to each other that we won’t hurt ourselves if the other person promises to do the same, that we can come to each other when we need to be distracted. This doesn’t mean like it’s our responsibility bu-”

Before I can finish my sentence Michael cuts me off.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

As cheesy as it sounds, I swear, I can hear a smile in his voice.

“Also, another thing. Wanna join group tomorrow? It’s a great way to be there for others, and maybe let them get to know you a little differently.”

TAGLIST: @burncrashbromance @moonchildsblack @5-secondsofcolor @harry-hallows-eve @min-amani

(i have probably spelt some of these wrong, so shoot me an ask and I will correct it:))

#michael clifford #michael imagine #michael au #michael blurb #michael fic #michael x oc #5sos imagine #5sos au #5sos blurb #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer #michael gordon clifford #badboy!michael #psych ward story

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hardlyinteresting · 5 years

Text

Eden Chapter 2 🍋

“This is the guest room, it isn’t much—I haven’t had much time to really set it up properly—when I’m gone on Tuesday feel free to take the big bed in the master bedroom”.

Ashton leans against the doorframe as Eden places her backpack and shoulder bag on the bed.

Looking around the room she takes note of the way the sun streams through the trees outside the large window across the room; large leaf patterns splashed across the floor. The room is painted a light shade of grey, furnished with a small desk on one end of the room, across from it is the double bed with white sheets and too many pillows. “I’m trying to find some art I’d like to put up. Maybe some enlarged photographs of nature or something--I don’t know,” Ashton shrugs.

“It’s just fine for me,” Eden turns and smiles at the man, “thank you for letting me stay here. I know Calum probably already thanked you, but thank you from me as well”.

“Not a problem,” he assures her, “Listen, I’m supposed to be having a party tonight, before the boys and I go away, I’d like it if you’d join us. A friend of Calum’s is a friend of mine”. Eden smiles, “I’d love to join you guys. A friend of Calum’s is a friend of mine as well”.

“Cool, well I’ll see you this evening. Calum is coming over in a bit to help set up. I can only assume you two will want to talk as well”.

Eden smiles and nods politely before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. She watches his figure in the doorway and notices how tall he is for the first time, in his defence, she knows most people are taller than her, she’s only 5′3″. She likes his shirt; a red button-up with a 1950′s flare, tucked into his black pants. It suits him she decides- edgy, but gentlemanly and reserved. Handsome.

“I don’t mean to pry, but did you bring enough stuff with you?” Ashton speaks up motioning towards her backpack.

Eden laughs at this, “Yeah, I did. The trick is rolling your things, not folding. My dad taught me that”.

“I’ll have to try that when I pack my stuff tomorrow,” he grins, “I’ll leave you to it then”.

_____

The next time Ashton sees Eden is a couple hours later when Calum has joined them and she’s finished unpacking the few things she brought with her.

She’s changed into a white cropped tank top and black denim shorts. Her makeup is done in warm metallic tones. Her cheekbones stand out and her eyes look even bigger and brighter than they already did.

“Hey, Cal!” She laughs running to wrap him in a hug

“How are you love?”

“Definitely been worse,” she grins squishing Calum’s cheeks between her hands, she presses a kiss to his forehead, “I’ve missed you”.

“I’ve missed you too,” he admits pulling her into another hug dramatically rocking her back and forth. “Let’s start drinking!”

“Beer?” Ashton offers Eden.

“Got anything stronger?”

“I have whiskey, vodka and tequila”

“Whiskey please”. She smiles.

“Need a mixer?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks”.

By the time the rest of the guests have arrived the original trio are already tipsy. The speakers are blasting “Ashton’s signature party playlist” the bass shaking the house. Eden weaves her way through the crowds of people, her hips swaying to the beat of the music.

Taking a sip from his red solo cup Ashton watches as Eden makes her way back over to him and Calum. “why have not met her before today?” Calum just shrugs, “Didn’t really think about it”. “Didn’t think about it?” “Believe it or not Ash I bring my friends around to hang out, not just to hook them up with you,” Calum smirks elbowing his friend playfully. Ashton only sends him an equally playful glare in return. “No, in all honesty, she’s been busy--she’s not looking for anyone. And the last time I checked neither were you”. Ashton nods accepting Calum’s explanation. Eden comes to stand with the two of them, she passes Calum another beer and downs the liquid in her cup.

Karma Chameleon fades out and Footloose starts to play. Eden throws her head back laughing, her smile bright, the glitter on her cheekbones catching the light.

“I love this song!” She exclaims, “You’ve got to dance with me!” She reaches for Calum’s arm but he shakes his head laughing. “I’ve danced enough for one night love, Ashton will dance with you”.

Ashton swallows hard. He can’t help but feel as though he’s been thrown under the bus. How can he say ‘no’? He doesn’t dance, but he sure as hell isn’t going to turn down his last chance at getting to know the beautiful woman who walked into his life. ‘all things happen for a reason’ he tells himself.

Tipping back his cup he finishes his drink before holding out his hand to Eden.

Her hand is much smaller than his, but still, she manages to hold tight guiding him back through the crowd to the makeshift dance floor in what’s usually the dining room.

Sorry, this took me so long to write and sorry that it’s probably trash. I really haven’t been doing well lately and I’ve been focusing on getting better, seeing doctors and therapists and getting new meds. It’s just all been a lot and I’ve been so tired and super unmotivated recently. Thank you for your understanding.

@irwinkitten @sophiealiice @asht0ns-world @lilytalebi @therainydays4

#5sos #ashton irwin #ashton 5sos #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin x reader #5 seconds of summer #5sos ship #5sos imagine #5sos ships #ashton irwin 5sos #ashtons lemon tree #lemon child #ashton irwin imagines #ashton irwin one shot #ashton irwin fanfic #5 seconds of summer x reader

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jlsjrockfanfictions · 6 years

Text

Foreign - Yomi (Nightmare)

(For ashnequiz18! ~JLS)

You have been friends with Sakito since you were a little girl. The two of you were next door neighbors and you even went to the same school.

Your father was stationed at the air force base in Okinawa before you were born. This meant that you were born in Japan, but were American through parentage. Your mother didn’t think an air force base was the place to raise a child, so she bought an apartment in Tokyo. You were only 3 years old when you met Sakito. He and his mother were coming home from shopping at the same time as you and your mother. You didn’t know much Japanese, and Sakito didn’t know much English, but the two of you struck up a conversation in baby jabber and quickly became friends. It became a daily ritual after that day that you and Sakito would play together until your respective mothers called you in for dinner.

When it was announced at your 15th birthday that your father was going to be stationed back in America, you and Sakito held each other and cried until you fell asleep. Your father felt terrible and offered to decline the promotion he was being given. Sakito spoke up then saying,

“Don’t stay just for me. Go to America, be with your family, but don’t ever forget me.”

You assured Sakito you’d never forget him and that you’d call him every day. The two of you pinkie promised on it, and then Sakito helped you pack.

That was 11 years ago.

You and Sakito are 26 now and have never missed a call.

In this most recent call, Sakito told you that his band was touring again and he wished you could be there to see them. That’s when you sprung your surprise on him.

“I’ll be there,” you said, trying, and failing, to be nonchalant.

“What? You’ll be here?” Sakito asks, “How?”

“My job is transferring me to Japan! I’m moving back!” You cheer.

“What?! No way! How long have you known?!” Sakito asks, his voice filled with excitement.

“A couple weeks. I didn’t want to tell you and then have them change their minds. Companies are bad about that. But I finalized everything this morning!” you cheer.

You laugh as you hear Sakito yell happily. You also hear a group of masculine groans as a group of men, Sakito’s bandmates you assume, tell him to quiet down. You laugh as you hear Sakito curse them out in Japanese before you hear his voice through the receiver again,

“When?”

“I fly out tomorrow. Think you could pick me up from the airport? You still live in Tokyo right?” you ask, pulling out your travel folder.

“Uh-huh. And of course, I can pick you up. Text me the details,” Sakito says.

“Will do! I’ll see you later Kito!”

“See you later, ________!”

The line goes dead.

You set your phone down, lean back against your wall, and look at your bare apartment.

“I’ll be in Japan tomorrow night!” you squeal, kicking your legs in the air excitedly.

The next day went by in a blur. You barely remember going through the airport checkpoints and boarding your flight. All you remember is getting onto the connecting flight and then falling fast asleep.

~~~

You wake up to the sound of the captain telling you and the other passengers that the plane was landing in Tokyo. You sleepily gather your carry-on luggage and your backpack before shuffling out of the plane behind the other passengers.

You walk out of your gate to see Sakito standing there surrounded by a group of men you’ve never met before. As soon as your eyes meet Sakito’s, he’s running towards you. You laugh as he pulls you into a tight hug.

“Look at you! You’re all grown up!” He coos, pulling away and patting your cheeks.

“Look at me? Look at you, Mr. Rockstar!” you exclaim, gesturing to your best friend.

Sakito shreds on an air guitar, causing you to laugh.

“Calm down there, killer. If you keep playing like that the air is going to catch on fire,” you joke.

Sakito laughs, rubbing the back of his head.

“Ooh! ________, I want you to meet my friends and bandmates!”

Sakito leads you over to his friends.

“This is Ni~ya, he plays bass,” Sakito says, pointing to a man with blond hair and intense brown eyes.

“This is Hitsugi, he plays rhythm guitar,” Sakito says, gesturing to a man with piercings and colored hair.

“This is Ruka, he hits things,” Sakito says, lightly punching Ruka on the arm, causing the drummer to laugh.

“And last but not least, this is Yomi. He’s our singer,” Sakito says.

Your eyes drag over Yomi’s body, taking in his appearance. Yomi is in a pair of black leather boots, dark jeans, and a black button up. Your eyes trace over his rounded face, his plump, wind-dried lips, the soft bridge of his nose, and finally his large brown eyes.

You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. Your throat and mouth are just suddenly too dry, like all the moisture in your mouth had just evaporated due to Yomi’s heated gaze. You swallow nothing and try to speak again, only Yomi beats you to it.

“Hello,” he drawls, his soft voice wrapping around your spine and causing you to shiver.

He makes his way over to you as he says it, takes your right hand off of your luggage and dips his head so his chapped lips meet the tops of your fingers. You gasp at the gesture and stare at the top of Yomi’s head. You watch as his head lifts, his dark irises meeting your own.

“He-hello,” you stammer out.

You can’t see it, but the other members of Nightmare are all clinging to each other, staring at the two of you and whispering excitedly.

“What was your name again, darling?”

“My name...” you clear your throat, “My name is ________. It’s a pleasure, Yomi.”

Yomi, though he wouldn’t admit it, found the way your lips formed his name to be the most beautiful thing he had ever heard in his life. He’d do every god of every pantheon a favor if it’d mean he could hear you say his name every day for the rest of his life.

“________, what a beautiful name. I can see now that my assumption was correct,” Yomi states.

“Oh? What was it you assumed?” you ask, curiosity and playfulness evident in your voice.

“That a princess as beautiful as you, would have a name befitting of such beauty,” Yomi flirts, kissing your hand again.

You blush and hide your face behind your hair.

“You flatter me, Yomi,” you state, a cute giggle flowing out afterward.

Yomi’s heart flips at the sound. He reaches out and takes the handle of your carry-on luggage, holding his unoccupied arm out for you to take. You tentatively thread your arm through his and stare up at his profile.

“Let’s go get the rest of your luggage shall we?” Yomi asks.

You nod, allowing Yomi and his charm to lead you towards baggage claim.

The rest of Nightmare stare at you and Yomi as you get further and further away, so invested in each other you didn’t even notice you had left them.

“This is going to be interesting,” Hitsugi states, making his way after you and Yomi.

The remaining three stare at each other in awe, before running to catch up with their rhythm guitarist.

~~~

You’ve lived in Japan for about a month now.

The night you got in was one of the most interesting nights of your life. Yomi and the rest of Nightmare escorted you to your apartment, which conveniently, and per your request, was right next to Sakito’s. The boys all went over to Sakito’s to fetch you a futon, some blankets and pillows, and anything else you might need while you stayed in your apartment and began unpacking things that didn’t require you to go out and buy shelves.

Once that was done, Sakito ordered some takeout, and when it was delivered, you all sat in a circle, munching away at dinner.

After dinner, the boys began heading out to make their way to their own apartments. Soon, only you, Sakito, and Yomi remained.

“Well, my darling little ________. I’m beat,” Sakito says.

“Alright, Kito. Thank you so much for all of your help, and for buying dinner. I owe you big time!” You say, throwing your arms around your childhood friend.

“You owe me nothing! You can repay me by having breakfast with me every morning! Deal?” Sakito asks, holding out his right hand, pinkie extended.

You wrap your pinkie around his own, setting your new morning routine in stone.

“Deal,” you say with a smile.

Sakito presses a soft kiss to your forehead and makes his way out of your apartment and into his own.

“Then there were two,” Yomi states, a soft smile lighting up his face.

“Then there were two,” you repeat, turning to stare into Yomi’s eyes.

“You... you are captivating, ________. I must have done something very good in a past life to have been given this privilege,” Yomi states, causing you to blush.

“And what privilge is that?” you ask, busying yourself with cleaning up.

Yomi takes your chin between the thumb and pointer finger of his right hand, lifting your head to meet your eyes with his once again.

“Meeting you,” and with that, he leans in slowly, giving you ample time to pull away.

His wind-chapped lips meet your soft lips and your feel your eyes flutter close.

Since that night one month ago, Yomi has been at your apartment every night. It’s become natural for him to eat dinner with you every night.

You look up from the broth simmering on your stove top and look over your shoulder at the handsome man you now call your boyfriend.

“Yomi,” you state.

“Hm?” Yomi asks, looking up from the TV screen to meet your eyes.

“I just wanted to see your face,” you say quietly, casting your eyes back down at the bubbling broth.

You hear a shuffling behind you, then you feel Yomi’s warm arms wrapping around your waist. Yomi rests his chin on your shoulder and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Well, my darling soulmate, you can look at my face for the rest of eternity, so long as I get to hold you just as long,” Yomi drawls.

“You can hold me as long as you please,” you state, looking over your shoulder at him, causing your nose to bump his.

Yomi rubs his nose against yours before pressing a kiss to your lips.

The two of you may be going fast to some people, but to the two of you it felt as if you had known each other all your life.

#Yomi #Nightmare #Yomi Nightmare #Jrocker x you #Jock fanfictions

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girl-next-door-writes · 7 years

Text

Hello Neighbour

Characters: Tony x Reader

Summary: Living next door to Tony Stark is, unsurprisingly, a little bit of a nightmare but how much could you take before you are seriously planning to sneak in and murder the inconsiderate ass in his sleep?

Word Count: 2041 words

Prompt “You’re my new neighbor, but I know you’re stealing my wifi to watch porn. Can you not?”

A/N: This is for @bionic-buckyb and her fabulous challenge. Thanks for the prompt sweetie. xx

You weren’t usually a passive aggressive note kinda person and as you found yourself scribbling yet another post-it note for the inconsiderate asshole who had moved into the apartment next door you let out a frustrated growl. It had started innocently enough. The wonderful, amazing gay couple that you adored moved out into a gorgeous, much larger condo and you had waited the arrival of your new neighbour with a little trepidation but general hope. You had been at work when they moved in and upon entering the hall you’d had to climb over several boxes just strewn about the place with a frown. It was okay though, perhaps they were moving in by themselves and with the parking restrictions had to get everything in the building as quickly as possible. You got how stressful moving was so you let it slide. When the thumping bass caused your bed to vibrate so much it woke you at 3am you had simply taken a steadying breath and tried to focus on the fact that your new neighbour was still unpacking at this hour and deserved your pity, the music was probably just to keep them awake to finish what they could.

The next morning as you headed off to work you had placed a bright yellow post-it note on their door, not wanting to wake them after such a late night, which simply said, ‘Hello new neighbour! Welcome to our lovely little building. The recycling goes out tomorrow so feel free to cram as many of your boxes down by the basement door as you can.’ You had thought it was pleasant and informative and went on your way.

Dragging yourself back home after what felt like the longest day in history your eyebrows raised when you found an orange post-it note stuck to your door. Wondering if it was from your new neighbour your face crumpled in disgust as you saw it was a drawing of a penis. Oh great, there was a very real possibility you were now living next-door to an overgrown man-child. Quickly snatching the note from the door you let yourself in and threw your bag on the sofa as you wondered what to do about this latest development.

It was three days later that you made your next move. In that time you had been woken up in the early hours by the terrible choice of music echoing through the wall from your friendly neighbour, the hall was still littered with boxes only they were now empty as if waiting the recycling fairy. You had ordered a pizza yesterday and strongly suspected it had ended up next door as you argued over the phone with the pizza place and for some reason you were pretty damned sure was to do with the asshole next door, who you had yet to meet face to face, although you couldn’t prove it. You had lunch with your friend Joe who was well known for his daft responses to these situations and you were certain he would be able to help. Together you had drafted a selection of possible responses and so here you were taping up your note. It was a drawing of a T-rex and next to it you had scribbled, ‘T-Rex has tiny arms, much too small to pick up empty boxes and take them to the basement for recycling. What’s your excuse?’ You and Joe had giggled about that for a while as you wrote it and as you headed back to your apartment you had a smile on your face. It was petty but you were dealing with someone who thought a reasonable response was a drawing on a cock.

Waking the next morning you realised you had slept through the entire night. Perhaps your note had worked, maybe they had seen it and laughed a little before agreeing that they should probably move those boxes. You had a few blissful hours as you got ready for work, this was going to be a good day. Opening your front door you froze. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Turned out the reason asshat hadn’t kept you up was because he was busy making a wall of boxes in front of your door. Shaking your head you took out your phone and clicked a quick photo before sending it off to Joe. Eyeing the structure you wondered if you moved a few boxes if they would all come crashing down. Carefully you slid one of the middle ones towards you and placed it by your sofa. Returning to the door you removed a few more until you had an archway of boxes. Deciding to leave it there so you could get to work on time you spent your whole day fuming. Who the fuck did they think they were. It wasn’t funny and it was dangerous. What if there had been a fire? What if you had collapsed and the ambulance guys had to get to you and they were delayed because of the boxes? There was no doubt in your mind that this douche needed teaching a lesson.

And so, the war of passive aggression raged on. You would tape a message to his door, he would tape a meme to yours. ‘Hey I just met you and this is crazy but pick up your shit you lazy asshat.’… ‘Dear recycling police, how about you clear up your own cardbox castle before picking on mere minions.’ … ‘I know you have a kick ass sound system but if I wanted to sleep in a nightclub I’d pick one with better choice in music than you.’… ‘Sounds like you’re stressed, here have this…’ As you glared at the tampon taped onto the note your patience finally snapped.

Storming over you hammered on the door, not knowing who was going to answer, for all you knew it could be some little old lady with crap taste in dance music. The door opened and a squirrelly looking brunette pushed his glasses up his nose, obviously uncomfortable with the rage that radiated off you. “I have had enough. Seriously, who the fuck do you think you are? You move in here and leave a mess everywhere then play your music when everyone else is trying to sleep and…” You paused and the moment of silence was filled with the unmistakable sound of a woman faking an orgasm. Looking at the man with surprise you could see his cheeks flush before he glanced over his shoulder then back to you.

“I don’t live here. This is my… friend, Tony’s place. Look, he’s not a bad guy just a little wired. I am so sorry if he’s been upsetting you, I’m sure he didn’t mean to.” The nervous guy rubbed the back of his neck and looked at you apologetically.

“Hey Bruce, the connection is 78% faster now I’m piggybacking off the guy next door with the stick up his ass.” The voice rang out before you saw him and by that point the burning fury within you had you at the point where when you did speak your words sounded calm and measured.

“You’re my new neighbor, but I know you’re stealing my wifi to watch porn. Can you not? And while you’re at it maybe you could clear up your shit in the common areas, not steal other people’s pizza orders, not play your music so loud after, say, 11pm? You live in this building with other people you asshole.” You glared at the man who seemed pretty taken aback by you.

“You’re… you live next door?” His eyes fell to the piece of paper in your hand with the tampon still attached and he winced. In all honesty he’d figured it was some uptight guy he was messing with, not some hot chick who now thought he was a major dick. Shit. “In my defense, you have very masculine handwriting.” Bruce ran his rand over his face and shook his head. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes through sheer frustration, there was no way you were going to win this one so you turned on your heels and stalked back to your apartment, slamming the door as you entered.

“Tony…” Bruce turned to him with a look of someone who had witnessed enough of his friends errant behavior to last a lifetime.

“She started it!” he shot back defensively.

“What?” Bruce sighed as he closed the door.

“Yeah, she stuck up a note, hang on, I’ve got it here somewhere.” He handed Bruce the yellow post-it and watched as his friend read it.

“How is this starting it? It’s a welcome to the building note with a little information she probably thought was helpful.” Looking up at Tony, Bruce’s heart sank when he saw the hint of guilt on his friends face. “What did you do?”

As Tony filled Bruce in on all the back and forth of the last few weeks he realised how bad things had got.

The hammering on your door made you jump but you had no intention of answering it. Instead you moved to your bedroom and watched Netflix on your laptop. You were tired and frustrated and would probably have to start looking for somewhere else to live. Falling into a restless sleep you were glad that you didn’t have to work tomorrow, maybe you could catch up on some much needed sleep.

It started at about 11am. There was a knock on the door and you were surprised when you opened it to a huge bunch of flowers. Bringing them in you saw there was a note and you figured someone probably got the wrong apartment. ‘I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Tony.’ Taking a quick photo you sent it off to Joe to ask if you should really cave that easily but staying mad at your neighbor was about to prove more difficult than you knew.

12:30 you received a giant cookie with the words ‘Sorry I’m an asshole’ iced onto it.

2:00 a barbershop quartet can to your door and serenaded you with their very own version of Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word.

4:30 a pizza you knew you hadn’t ordered along with garlic bread and a tub of ice cream were delivered and had already been paid for.

6:00 you sat down at your laptop and noticed the internet connection had gone again. Opening to menu to reconnect you scanned the options and a small chuckle escaped you as you saw what you assumed to be your internet connection had been renamed. ‘Tony Stark will now be using his own connection to watch porn.’ You had to hand it to the guy, he was an irritating, thoughtless asshat but this was all one hell of an apology.

Deciding to let him know he was forgiven you left your apartment to a spotless hallway, not a single box in sight. With an amused smile on your lips you knocked lightly on Tony’s door. It swung open and your new neighbor leaned nonchalantly against the door frame with a hint of concern beneath his mask of cockiness. You hadn’t really looked at him yesterday, hadn’t noticed that he was actually quite an attractive asshole. There was something about his eyes though, a vulnerability that made you wonder if that was the reason he pushed peoples buttons, to see how they would push back. “Hi, I’m you’re new neighbor. Welcome to the building.” You extended your hand as if the last few weeks hadn’t happened and this was his first night here.

“I’m Tony, it is lovely to meet you. I warn you, I’m not used to living with other people around so if I overstep then please feel free to come storming round here and yell at me. You want to come in for a drink?” His eyes searched yours hopefully and when you nodded the pure joy that spread across his face made your heart stutter. Maybe living next door to Tony wasn’t going to be so bad after all. “We can watch some porn if you’d like, I have my own wifi now.” Yeah, maybe not bad but definitely interesting.

Tags: @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @nea90sweetie @knittingknerdy @feelmyroarrrr @vintagevalentinexx @goody2shoessmut @cojootromuelle @palaiasaurus64 @littleblue5mcdork @littlenerdgirl16 @iwillbeinmynest @buckyhawk @almondbuttercup @beccaanne814-blog @canumoveyourseatup-no @callamint @like-a-bag-of-potatoes

#myfic #something i wrote #kaits5kauchallenge

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readingactually · 5 years

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Montauk by Nicola Harrison

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Montauk By Nicola Harrison Summer 1938 We left the train and were escorted to our awaiting cars, one for Harry and me and one for our trunks—packed to the brim for the summer months ahead. I looked up at the Manor on the hill and saw it for the first time, silhouetted against the deep orange early evening sky. As we drove up the tight and winding road, tree branches reached overhead toward each other like lovers’ hands desperate to connect, and then the road suddenly opened up and I gasped. It was just as it had looked in the brochure, but bigger, grander, even more magnificent than I could have imagined—a Tudor façade with turrets and spires, more reminiscent of a vast and dignified English castle than a beach town hotel. Harry put his hand on my knee and squeezed. “I told you you’d like it here.” “Oh, you were right, darling; I can already tell I’m going to fall in love with this place.” Several other couples had taken the same train from the city as Harry and I, and a caravan of cars followed behind us. We entered through the carved wooden doors and as I looked around the grand lobby, which seemed to extend for miles with its enormous exposed wooden beams, stone flooring and three oversized fireplaces, I felt like a guest at the palace. “Mr. and Mrs. Bordeaux, welcome to The Montauk Manor. We are so pleased you’ll be staying with us for the summer,” the front desk clerk said. “I see this is your first time.” “First time in Montauk, actually,” I said. “Some of our friends have been summering here for the last few years and we’ve heard such wonderful things.” “It certainly is the place to be.” She smiled sweetly as if she were right off one of the posters I’d seen around Manhattan advertising the beach town. “Tomorrow night’s the first soirée of the summer; it will be here in the grand lobby.” “We wouldn’t miss it, would we, Beatrice?” “Not a chance.” A jazz band played quietly at the other end of the room and I could already feel myself getting into the swing of things. “Please arrange for the butler to deliver our luggage and unpack our belongings while we dine,” Harry said. “Of course.” She nodded, handed us our keys and had us escorted up to our room. - - - Harry and I first talked about Montauk that April during a pre-show dinner at Barbetta’s, our favorite Italian restaurant, behind the Metropolitan Opera House. We were seated at our usual table under the great chandelier when he’d snapped his menu shut. He said he had a surprise for me, then told me we’d be spending the whole summer in Montauk—or rather I would. Harry would stay in the city during the week and take the new express train out to join me on the weekends. I resisted at first. We’d already agreed on three weeks in Providence, together, it was all planned and I’d been so looking forward to spending time with Harry, just the two of us, away from the hectic, overheated city and his busy work life. “Cancel it. We’ll try something new this year,” he’d said, taking a swig of his drink. “It will be good for us, Beatrice, a change, a fresh start. You said we needed that, remember?” He was right, of course. I had said that. He handed me a brochure and I looked at the illustration on the cover: The Montauk Manor was the focal point and pictured below it were men and women engaging in various leisurely activities: fishing, golf, archery, swimming, tennis, horseback riding. One man, or woman, I wasn’t quite sure, was in flight gear. They certainly made it seem that anything was possible. Far in the background a lighthouse stood proudly at the very tip of the island, surrounded by seagulls. “What will I do all summer long?” I’d asked. “Most women who summer at their vacation home have children to entertain and nannies to help them, and friends with children. What reason do I have to be in Montauk for twelve weeks?” “What reason do you have to be in the city?” His quick response felt sharp. Feelings of futility came gushing to the surface and I felt my cheeks burn red. “Well, I could work again,” I’d said, quietly, turning the stem of my glass, making small ripples in the cream-colored tablecloth. But Harry told me, once again, that it wasn’t appropriate for someone like me. “We’ve already discussed this, Beatrice. You’re not a college girl anymore, or a farm girl for that matter. You’re a Bordeaux now and you should be proud of that.” He reached over the table and placed his hand on mine. “And it’s my job to take care of you now, to support you; don’t rob me of that, sweetheart.” Something in me hesitated and I couldn’t quite tell why. I looked at the illustration again; everyone had a look of strange detachment, each person lost in his own world. Of course it would be a treat to summer all season long; who wouldn’t want that? But to be away from my husband four nights of the week left me uneasy. A tiny voice in my head told me it was a precarious situation, and suddenly that was the only voice I could hear. - - - We dined at the Manor’s seafood restaurant that first night in Montauk. The ceilings were high and the sound of laughter, chatter and clinking wineglasses mingled in the air and made me excited for our adventure ahead. “Harry, let’s explore the town tomorrow and maybe even take a boat out; wouldn’t that be fun?” “Not tomorrow, sweetheart, I’ve got archery, remember?” “Oh,” I sighed, and looked at the menu. Local fluke, striped bass, lobster. “You know, now that I think of it, I remember my brother mentioning the name Montauk years ago.” “Why would your brother have known anything about Montauk? It wasn’t even a destination to visit until a few years ago.” “I remember him telling me it was a little fishing town all the way out on the tip of Long Island and that he wanted to go there sometime to fish for bass.” I looked out the window; just the mention of him made my chest tighten. I focused on an elderly waiter putting all his effort into opening a window on the far side of the room that looked out into the night sky. I had the urge to get up and help him. Eventually he wrestled it open and I felt relieved by the cool, crisp ocean air on my bare arms. “Darling, I don’t know why you bring up the topic of your brother; you get upset every time,” Harry admonished. The next instant he started waving madly at a couple walking into the restaurant and insisted that they join us. “It’s Dr. and Mrs. Sanders,” he said in a whisper as they approached. “He knows a lot of people.” It was quite an ordeal for the restaurant manager and another waiter to move a table next to ours so we could sit together and I wasn’t entirely sure the other couple was as enthusiastic as Harry about the arrangement, but he was insistent. “So what do you think of this place?” Dr. Sanders asked once we were situated. “Pretty great, isn’t it?” “It looks lovely,” I said, “though we haven’t had a chance to take it all in yet; we just arrived.” “We summered here last year,” Mrs. Sanders said, touching my arm. “The swimming pool is beautiful—you’ll be spending a lot of time there, I’m sure, but wait until you see the beach and the boardwalk, it extends for more than half a mile along the ocean, oh, and the yacht club, it’s perfect, it really is, such a wonderful escape from the city.” “We’re so lucky,” I said. Harry lit a cigarette. “Have you put any money into this town yet, Doc?” “Not yet, but I’m considering. We have a few properties in Miami, so I don’t know if it makes sense to invest in all of Fisher’s schemes. But I heard you’re going in big—I’m impressed.” “With the way things are going,” Harry said in a hushed voice, “now’s the right time to buy in.” Dr. Sanders nodded. I tried to catch Harry’s eye so he’d let me in on what he was discussing, but he looked into his martini, swirled it, then gulped the rest of it down. Back in the bedroom I looked around, opened the drawers and the cupboards and marveled at the attention to detail. The hand-carved drawer pulls, the soft cotton bedsheets trimmed with lace. Harry sat on the end of the bed and untied his shoelaces. “I don’t want you to leave on Sunday,” I said. “I’m going to miss you.” Harry sighed. “Well, what if I get lonely?” I said. “Beatrice, you’ll be a mother one day and then you’ll have your hands full and you won’t have the luxury of time to lounge and relax.” I nodded, my expression turned serious. I was trying to remain hopeful that we would be blessed with a child sometime in the near future, but the same old fear and questioning about why it hadn’t happened yet came rushing back. The thought of being around all the women during the week with their children at the beach and the pool, teaching them to play tennis and build sandcastles, made me feel rather melancholy. Most likely I’d be the only one of childbearing age without a child to care for and everyone would be asking why I wasn’t in the family way. My stomach clenched and I suddenly found it hard to swallow. “But Harry, I’m not a mother yet.” “You’ll get in with the women. It’s good for business. You’ll make friendships here and then back in the city we’ll be invited to dinner parties where I’ll forge business relationships.” “I hardly think that my making friends will lead to any business,” I said. He shrugged. “It’s how my mother and father always worked, as a partnership, and it turned out pretty damn well.” The mention of his mother made me cringe a little—I had never really fit with the Bordeaux family and they knew that as well as I did. Of course we’d been to all the parties and we’d hosted lots of dinners and I’d done my best to play the part of the perfect companion, but the idea that Harry and I could be more than just a married couple was compelling, that I could somehow be beneficial to his business gave me a sense of purpose and direction, a feeling that had been hampered since we’d married. I twisted the band of my ring. “Say, Harry, what was that talk with Dr. Sanders about buying into Montauk, and now being the right time?” “Nothing for you to worry about.” “No, really, I’m interested. If you want me to be more involved with your business life then you must keep me informed.” He took off his jacket and unhooked his suspenders. “Look, Beatrice, I wasn’t going to tell you about this yet, not until I had more information, but there’re a few of us who are very seriously considering investing out here.” “Really? But you’ve barely even seen the place. Is that why you wanted to come here, for an investment?” “It’s the real thing, Beatrice. We could be sitting on a gold mine if we are smart about it.” “Who was the Fisher guy you mentioned?” “You met at the horse races last summer.” “I don’t recall.” “Sure you do. Dapper fellow, a bit of an oddball. Carl Fisher, an eccentric dresser. When War Admiral won the Triple Crown and we all stayed until the wee hours dancing on the grass.” “I remember the night, but I don’t recall meeting anyone named Carl Fisher.” “It doesn’t matter, but he’s the one who turned thousands of acres of unpopulated, unwanted mangrove swamp into Miami Beach. You couldn’t give that land away before he took an interest in it, and now his fortune is made.” I sat down on the bed next to him. “He convinced the entire East Coast that it was America’s greatest winter playground, and he was right. After Miami he set his sights on Montauk. Same thing, nothing was here, just a rural wilderness, cattle roaming the hills and a tiny fishing village.” “So he’s the one who put up all those posters around the city, Montauk in the Summer, Miami in the Winter; he wants wealthy New Yorkers to spend their money in both of his worlds,” I said. “Exactly. He brought his construction crew from Miami and built his dream—a yacht club, a bathing club, polo fields, a golf course, prime hunting, a ranch, and this place, the Manor, is his centerpiece, a two-hundred room castle by the sea.” I laughed. “I suppose it is.” “There are glass-enclosed tennis courts, a beach club and a fantastic swimming pool looking out on to the beach—you heard Mrs. Sanders rave about it.” “You don’t even swim,” I said, hearing it come out sharper than I’d intended. Harry stood up and went into the bathroom. “Fine, but you do.” “Darling, it sounds spectacular, I can’t wait to see it all and I am not disagreeing with you,” I called through the doorway, “but it doesn’t sound like there’s much to invest in if Mr. Fisher has done all this work already.” “Well, that’s the thing.” Harry leaned his head out of the bathroom with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. “What’s the thing?” “He’s done all this work, well, a lot of it, but there’re still some things that are not finished. He’s designed and built up this glamorous, luxurious town and now he’s broke.” “Broke?” “Broke, broke, broke.” Harry hit the doorframe hard and loudly three times as he said it, grinning. He turned and I heard him spit into the sink; then he reemerged, suddenly perked up. “Remember that hurricane that hit Miami? It devastated the place and it needed a massive rebuild, which cost him an absolute fortune,” Harry said, grinning. “He’d already lost a lot of his money in stocks and he’d put the rest of his money into Montauk.” “So you and your friends will just swoop in and take over?” “Beatrice, don’t you see what I’m saying? He needs people like me to come in and save him so he doesn’t go under completely. We’re going to help him. And you, my darling, by staying out here for the summer and getting to know Montauk, you’ll be an asset to me. We could be spending a lot of time here in the future; it’s important to me that you like it.” He took my face in his hands and he kissed me. “I want you to be with me on this, Beatrice, in every way; can you do that for me?” It was the first time I’d heard him say something like that in years, not since we first kept steady company and he had big plans for us. “I can.” I smiled. Perhaps he was right; maybe Montauk would be good for us after all. Something about the way Harry spoke to me that first night in Montauk gave me hope. We’d been married for five years, but the last year or two had been difficult. I’d felt him pull away, distance himself from me, and I’d seen his eyes wander. But that night it was as if he wanted to come back to me fully, as if he wanted me to be an important part of his life again, for us to go back to the way we were when we first married, when it seemed that nothing mattered more than me and him. We were in love again. I felt this so strongly that I agreed to everything he proposed. I had his undivided attention for the first time in months and was sure something between us had changed. I slept in his arms that night and convinced myself we had turned a corner. I grasped at the possibility of a transformation, a shift, however small or insignificant, a new place for the summer, a new sense of partnership, something, anything different from our last year of marriage where I’d always felt he was just beyond my reach. A new beginning, I thought. I hoped. Read the full article

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willstilladoreyou · 7 years

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1. Elevator

True events reimagined.

No elevator Will take you to the top of whatever you think up and down is

I make a pact with myself. “Even if none of them are actually staying at the hotel, I will still have a great time. I am creating a fairytale for myself - for myself for a change”.

Still, justifying a flagrant expense does not come particularly easy. On the way to the hotel, I triple-check for any evidence of my transparent passion, but it seems like all signs of the concert have been carefully hidden - apart from the mad pumping of adrenaline that’s going through every tiny capillary.

Do I look respectable enough? My suitcase is orange and slightly battered, graced by a space panda sticker; the guitar case is elephantine in comparison to the travel guitar it holds, but my coat is flawless, and my shoes are cool - and those cheekbones tell a tale of elegance even in the weirdest of circumstances.

It’s after midnight, and it’s a quick ride; London gently gleams under a young crescent moon.

As we pull up in front of the gorgeously festive entrance, I notice a familiar figure standing outside - Samuel Bañuelos III, smoking. My heart simultaneously falls and soars. The tour manager is always a good sign.

Get out of the cab, as gracefully as you can (note to self: keep trying) Do I have everything: guitar on one shoulder, a bag on the other and the suitcase. Make your way in Smile calmly, as if it’s all part of a routine Don’t let them know you’re an impostor (note to self: what?!)

Elevator. Historic elevator. Quite an old elevator. A pretty slow elevator. A madame in pearls, waiting. “Oh, coming in late, dear?” “It’s been a long day.” “Well you are sure to get some good rest here.” I wonder if she can tell that I’m in the middle of an adventure of a lifetime. Please keep being polite to me, it makes me feel like I can fake being natural superbly well.

Our chat is interrupted by the sound of voices approaching.

“Hey man, why are you coming in so late?” Samuel Bañuelos III appears, followed by none other than the cause of this entire insane campaign, Mister Josh Adam Klinghoffer. A cool jacket, one of many signature hats, a rectangular guitar case. “…Because of all the fffffffucking people” he mutters, with a tired temper. I allow myself a sly little half-smile in his direction.

Perhaps ‘mutters’ is not the right word here, for the madame immediately turns her head and splashes him with a look of sheer condemnation.

Well I feel like an antelope hiding in the bushes. If anyone looks me in the eye, I will be immediately, hopelessly found out. However, I can’t help but notice (thank you, Nature, for the corners of our eyes) Josh instantly going slightly red (probably cursing himself in his mind). Despite being embarrassed, his eyes wander to my guitar case. I guess curiosity is the best cure for embarrassment.

Finally, the marvelous elevator arrives. Inside there is gorgeous gold, a velvet bench, endless mirrors and enough space for three. Madame embarks. “I’m afraid there isn’t enough space here for us all to be transported comfortably. Good night”. There’s definitely place for me there. She pushes the button to close the doors quicker, but hastily pushes the opposite button and spends another 10 painful seconds avoiding looking at us, her brutal offenders.

Finally, the legendary golden doors conceal the madame as she is solemnly taken up.

I look over my shoulder and cast a quick, warm, understanding smirk at my fellow travelers.

“I’m sorry,” says Samuel Bañuelos III. “I’m not,” say I.

He laughs; Josh gently smiles, looking somewhat relieved. His eyes keep moving between two points in space: my guitar and my face. I notice that Samuel Bañuelos III notices it. Seems like he notices that I notice it, too.

Did I mention this luxurious elevator is…slow? Back in its day, it must have been a technical marvel of immense speed, but in 2016 it reminds us of a more elegant era when the perception of time was drastically different.

As we continue our wait, the tour manager/genius 35mm photographer quietly reminds the guitar player of the details of the next day, which can be summed up thusly: just be at the venue by 5.

Josh lets out a series of short, somewhat absent-minded ‘mmmmhm’s and I can feel both of their eyes on me.

Our ornate mode of transportation comes back to the ground floor and opens its shining doors.

I take a step forward, but my suitcase does not follow my lead: one of the wheels decides to take the night off.

“Let me help you with that,” Josh says in a quiet, sweet baritone. “Thank you so much.” I flash him with one of my best smiles.

I enter the lavish little room of elevation, J follows.

Samuel Bańuelos III does not. He’s standing there, failing to hide his smirk. “Might as well take the stairs, much quicker. I’ll see you tomorrow, man! G’night, miss”.

“See you, good night!” I smile. The doors close.

The insane serendipity of the situation flabbergasts me to the point of numbness. The odds of this happening were less than minuscule - and yet here we are. I am in the same elevator as Josh Klinghoffer. It’s just the two of us. He doesn’t seem to mind. I push 5. He asks for 6.

“Well, you are quite the suitcase tamer.” “It’s -,“ he clears his throat, “- it’s one of the few talents that I have mastered over the years.” Smiles are exchanged.

6 seconds of silence.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but notice your guitar - do you play?” I can almost see him mentally facepalming himself. “A tiny bit. I’m actually learning how to play bass, and this is the closest thing I have here”.

“Oh, bass, cool! It’s not exactly the same, though…” Beat. “……What do you mean?” It became a signature joke - pretending to be absolutely serious. He falls for it for three seconds, confusion followed by laughter.

“I know it’s pretty ridiculous, but it’s still better than nothing.” A pause, in which he looks at me with a spark in his eye. “I guess so”, he says, smiling and nodding. “I love bass…Are you in a band or - or just learning for yourself?” His voice is melodious and soothing. I notice that I feel oddly comfortable being one-on-one with him. “I am learning to join a band that consists entirely of wonderful friends.” “Wow, sounds excellent!”

Floor 5.

“Thank you so much, it was lov-“ “Oh, I’ll help you with the bags.”

We both step out of the exuberant mechanical wonder. I take a moment to fully look at him. Here he is, right in front of me, guitar case in one hand, my slightly scruffy orange suitcase in the other. “Thank you. It’s wonderful to know that chivalry isn’t dead.” “Oh, my pleasure.” We follow the arrows. Silently. “What - khm - what is the name of the band?” “We’re called The ************,” I say, unable to hide my gleaming pride. I’m in a dream come true, talking about another dream coming true.

“The ************…cool name.” “Thank you, we like it too.”

An exchange of smirks. His eyes are deep brown, with faint glimmers of deep gold. The charm of his smile drastically exceeds my (already high) expectations.

‘What kind of music do you play?” “Well, the official formula goes like this: progressive-aggressive punk post-pop cabaret!” “…..Wow. Well, that definitely got my interest!” I wonder if he sees how insanely happy I am right now. I feel radiant. All of a sudden we are standing outside of room 532.

“Five three two…that would be me,” I say softly, casting a gentle gaze upon him.

“Are y-you staying here for long? Sorry, that’s an inapp-“ “Two nights.” He nods, looking at the floor.

“I’m so sorry, taking up your time, it’s late, and you must be tired - not that you look tired - I mean, it’s almost 2 AM, and -“ “Please don’t worry! Thank you so much for helping me, I really appreciate it.”

My cheeks begin to hurt from all the smiling.

“Besides, it’s you who is truly tired.”

Uh-oh.

He looks at me intently.

“I was”

Pause.

Just as I inhale to continue this dreamlike conversation, Josh mutters good night and leaves pretty abruptly.

I find myself standing in the middle of an empty corridor of a legendary London hotel. Fuck knows what just happened.

I open the door, drag the suitcase into the room, let the guitar slide to the floor, drop the bag and simply freeze, leaning against the door.

Fuck knows what just happened. I just had a fantastic encounter with Josh Klinghoffer… which ended with him running away. Was it because he realized that I follow him? Maybe he got scared of my incredible charm? Perhaps he had to take care of some dark necessities? Fuck knows. Fuck knows. ……fuck knows.

It’s still astonishing, though. It is still mind-blowingly incredible, though. It’s still absolutely bloody crazy fucking fantastic, though.

I put on some music, shuffle at first, but “Eye Opener” comes first and I have no desire to die by melting into this deep blue carpet.

I put on “Love of Your Life,” followed by “Never is a Long Time”. Soothing songs that accumulate that warm feeling of sheer magic. Unpack! Shower! Jump on the bed, celebrating your insane luck! Glee at the marvels of a five-star hotel! Go to bed in your beautiful silk nightgown to feel like a lady! Attempt to sleep and fail miserably!!

I sit up in bed, coming to terms with the fact that sleep seems like the least exciting thing to do right now.

I get up, throw on a black, sheer, floor-length, long-sleeved polka dot dressing gown (thank you, Dita Von Teese), slip into my elegant little slippers, grab a pen, a piece of paper, the door key and head out to wander the exquisite dimly lit corridors.

After all, life is too short to waste it on mediocrity. I dream of living in a Wes Anderson film, and so I create this opportunity for myself!

I slowly make my way through floor five, admiring the early 20th century sketches and caricatures on the walls, occasionally stopping to write down a thought, a line, a poem, a feeling, a spark. My path is deserted, with the exception of a gentleman eating chicken outside of room 502. The attention he gives me is minimal. My ghost-like promenade takes me to the staircase, and I hesitate, deciding whether to go up or make my descent. As I listen closely to my gut, I hear the peaceful wind behind the windows, the light rustling of branches, the mild ticking of a clock standing on a randomly beautiful table by the elevator, the soft humming of the lamps, quiet footsteps…footsteps? Chicken guy coming for seconds? I notice a figure lurking upstairs. A tall, somewhat lanky figure. The pattern of the figure’s movement is hesitant, but after a few pauses, I can hear it advancing towards my location. As the silhouette draws nearer, the floppy hair becomes painfully obvious. He notices me and freezes. Here I am, a sleepless vision, looking at Josh Klinghoffer…yet again.

There he is, in a black long-sleeved top that looks incredibly cozy and pajama pants that can be called ‘slim’ in comparison to his usual stage choices, looking at me.

A few moments pass, and he still hasn’t run away. Either his eyesight is not so good, or he’s not terrified.

He moves one step down. “Hi…” His voice lingers in the air. I take one step up. “…Hi” The night makes my voice deeper. The silence rings in my ears. Or is it the excitement? The adrenaline, perhaps? Does adrenaline ring? Dear brain, Please shut up.

“Can’t sleep?” He hesitates. “Yeah…still not sure which time zone I’m in” Pause. “….and you?” Now it’s my turn to take a dramatic pause. “…The night seemed to poetic to let it pass me by.”

He takes two more steps and murmurs something undecipherable.

“Sorry?” “That is beautiful,” he says, stepping onto the landing between floors. I smile with a slight exhale and stand by a window on the same level as him. I wonder how transparent this dressing gown really is.

“I’m surprised you didn’t run away just now.” His face changes immediately, a grimace of deep discontent followed by an expression of pure downheartedness.

He stares at the floor. “I am so sorry. I can’t believe you’re even talking to me right now. I - I hate the way I am sometimes.I felt as if I overstepped a line and didn’t think of anything better than to flee. Regretted it instantly. Punched a wall. Regretted that instantly. Felt idiotic since then”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that a conversation that I found so pleasant was a source of such agony to you…”

He looks up, comes to the window…stands opposite me. The pale light encompasses us both. We are looking at each other.

How is this not awkward? Magic.

“I never asked you your name.” “You have a chance now.” He smirks and softly shakes his head. “I’m ***. *********.” “Hi, ***” “Hi,” I say, with a secret smile in the corners of my mouth. “And you are?…” We both laugh. He seems wildly relieved. “Josh.” “Well, lovely to meet you, Josh.” I extend my hand. He shakes it with an air of mock-importance. His hands are big, with long, graceful, restless fingers and obvious veins. His handshake is careful yet firm. My handshake is strong and enthusiastic. I celebrate our first physical contact by zapping him with a shot of static electricity. He looks mildly impressed.

“Are you from the States?” “Why do you ask?” “Well…your accent sounds American.” “Yeah…I’m actually *******.” “*******?!” “**!” (yes) “Haha…Your English is superb!” “Thank you! All thanks to my brilliant parents.” “Are they American?” “Nope, my whole family is completely *******, aside from a couple of Jews.” “Ah, haha! So you live in…******?” “I do.” “It’s a beautiful place.” “Thank you! It is as strange as it is beautiful.” “That’s a good way of putting it…” “Coming from you that’s a big compliment.” His eyes become more serious. I hesitate…and dive right in. “I think that you write some of the most beautiful music in the world.” He begins to examine his shoelaces. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. But it is true…at least to me.” He finally looks up, his gaze fixated through the window. “Someday I will learn to take compliments calmly…possibly” “That might come in handy one day…” He looks at me and smiles, tucking his hair behind his ears. “***? Can I ask you something?” “I don’t see why not” “It might be a bit of an odd question.” “Those are my absolute favourites.” He pauses for a few moments. “What kind of guitar did you bring here?” I laugh, looking at the ceiling. “It’s a travel guitar. Smaller, lighter, waterproof. Perfect for a campfire evening…but I’m not a big fan of camps.” “Neither am I…but I’d love to take a look at it, haven’t seen one of those in a long, long time…if you wouldn’t mind?” I smile softly. I feel as if a little boy asked me to show him a wonderful toy. “Sure.” “So…you’re here for two nights, right?” “Exactically so…sorry, that’s a quote from Alice in Wonderland.” “Oh, you don’t have to apologize for quoting a great book…I’m sorry for not recognizing it!” I grin, he grins, we both look out of the window. Venus is shining bright, like a lighthouse for dreamers.

“What are you doing tomorrow morning?” I hesitate, not believing my ears. THINK OF SOMETHING COOL. “Beginning a wondrous day” Jesus Christ on a motorbike that sounds pretentious as fuck. “Would joining me for breakfast spoil the wondrous day?” “On the contrary, it would make a wondrous day exceptionally fantastic.” He looks mildly shocked and stays silent for a pretty damn long time, paying much attention to his hair. Classic ***: scaring people away with wild enthusiasm since 1991 (c) Well, no point in backing off now! “…Shall we meet…downstairs?” He clears his throat yet again, fiddling the bleached strands of his infamous hairdo. “Actually I was wondering if I could pick you up at, let’s say”, - he checks his simple, elegant, clearly trusted and well-worn black-strapped watch, - “10 o’clock?” “Sounds perfect…I am flattered!” He smiles with a slight air of inhibition. “Believe me,” he says. “I’m the one who is flattered.” We look at each other, unashamedly smiling. I’m the one who breaks the spell. “See you in six and a half hours, then.” His smile becomes wider. To say that he is charming is to say absolutely nothing at all. “Sweet dreams.” “You too…good night.” We hesitate, look at each other and laugh. “Bye!” I start descending. At the bottom of the stairs, I turn around and see him still standing there, watching me. “See you soon…”

You can't concede that you have no control But if your eyes are open, your heart is open, your life is open wide

2.02.2017

#klinghoffer #josh klinghoffer #jk dashwood #fantasy #dot hacker #rhcp red hot chili peppers

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inadeepanddarkdecember · 7 years

Text

･ﾟ: *✧ lost nights✧*:･ﾟ

[[ I highly recommend listening to this playlist while you read! Pasting it ugly-style too because my theme is fucking up the link for anyone trying to click through on my blog. ]]

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLMBzl7puwIYLutdI5atf5UWYVi0RAbq1F

Cyrus’s knee bounced as he waited, impatiently listening to the sounds outside his bedroom door. His curfew had passed hours ago, but he was still fully awake. Fully dressed. Waiting. His phone buzzed, and his hand lashed out like a whip to grab it.

[Thomas, 1:34 AM:] Is she gone yet?

[Sent, 1:35 AM] No not yet.

[Thomas, 1:35 AM:] I can go if you don’t think you can make it.

[Sent, 1:36 AM] Just give me a few more minutes. She cant be up much longer.

After a few minutes passed with no response, he set his phone back down. It was faint–if he wasn’t listening this closely, he would have missed it–but he could still hear the sounds of the tv coming from the living room. His mother had already showered; as best he could tell, she had already finished her nightly routines, but of course, it had to be tonight that she procrastinated on sleep. What was she even doing awake? It was a Thursday; she had work in the morning. He had school as well, but he had given up on sleeping for the night as a consequence of his plans. He could always nap.

He went through his mental checklist again: his backpack leaned on the wall across from him; he had removed anything unnecessary for tonight and replaced it with some snacks and, more importantly, his borrowed camera, instant camera, and a pack of film for the instant. It felt like so little, but Thomas had the blanket and Cyrus did always have the propensity to overpack and overprepare. His jackets hung by the door, and he was already wearing his spare pair of shoes so he could just grab his jackets and go. His keys were in his jacket pocket, and his phone was, of course, beside him. He had refilled his water bottle. That should be everything.

He froze when he realized the tv had stopped. Sometime during his mental review, his mother had shut off the television. He picked up his phone.

[Sent, 1:48 AM] Shes gone. Be right out.

He gave it another minute, listening hard, and when he didn’t hear anything, he stood at last, stretched, and threw on his backpack.

Thomas and his car idled a small distance from Cyrus’s apartment complex, and in short order, Cyrus himself appeared, climbing into the passenger seat. His escape had gone smoothly; he threw his backpack on the ground, buckled his seatbelt, and immediately started zipping himself into his two jackets.

“There you are,” said Thomas as he returned the car to life and pulled away from the curb. “Any later, and we might have missed the meteor shower.”

Cyrus looked over, eyes wide and alarmed, but before he could say anything, Thomas laughed and held up a hand. “Kidding, kidding. We’re gonna be fine.”

Cyrus’s shoulders slumped, and he shook his head with a wry little smile playing on his lips. “Asshole,” he murmured, good-natured. Comfortable and warming, he sunk into his seat and put his feet on the dash as Thomas continued talking.

“Do you mind if I put my tunes on today? I discovered this cool new band, Catfish and the Bottlemen, last week. Have you ever heard of them?”

“Go ahead. I don’t think I have.”

With his spare hand, Thomas pressed play on his phone, and the first song began to drift out through the car’s speakers. Through the car window, Cyrus watched the darkened houses fly by; they had left the urban areas, and now it was just endless suburbia, the same five homes in the same five shades of cream over and over and over and over again. After a minute or two, Cyrus asked, “So where are we going?”

“Oh, it’s this great place about an hour and a half outside the city–two hours from where we are now. It’s up on a bluff near the ocean–very windy there–off some rocky side roads. My dad took me there the first time I went, and I’ve been back a few times with some of my other friends. It’s great; you’ll love it.” He paused a moment to glance at Cyrus. “You might get cold though. You can borrow my windbreaker if you need it. My letterman should be enough for me. I have hotter blood than you, after all.”

“We’ve discussed this.” Cyrus’s tone was sharp, and Thomas’s teasing smile wavered into worry. Cyrus smirked. “I don’t have blood. I’m a vampire, remember?”

Thomas laughed, at once relieved and amused. “Yes, yes, of course. How can I forget?” His voice dipped into a dramatic tenor. “You’ve come to absorb my elven powers under the light of the new moon and the magic of the falling stars. Once you’ve sucked me dry, you’ll feed my body to the leviathan. I am naught but a witless pawn in your nefarious schemes, driving to my doom. Alas.”

He bowed his head for a moment, and Cyrus laughed. “It’s not your fault. None can resist my many, many, many charms. Even the most virtuous maiden falls before me.”

Thomas chuckled a little more as he shook his head, and his voice returned to a normal tone as he said, “I got you a coffee, by the way, in the cupholder. I know you usually prefer tea, but it’s going to be a long night; don’t want you falling asleep as soon as we get there.” He gestured toward the cup with a wiggle of his elbow.

“That might happen anyway.” Cyrus had taken a nice, long nap for most of the day to try to reduce any later sleepiness, but all-nighters had never been his strong suit. If no time else, he felt confident that he would end up asleep during the car ride back. Nevertheless, he picked up the indicated coffee cup and took a sip. Despite the wait from whenever Thomas had bought it to now, it was still warm–no longer hot, but still warm. It was soft, creamy, chocolatey, a little sweet: a mocha. While Cyrus could drink tea black, he much preferred milk and sugar to ease coffee’s intensity. He gave a small hum of approval as he took another sip. “Thanks.”

The pair lapsed into silence for a while, Cyrus sipping his coffee and both enjoying the music. Several songs passed, one Thomas identified as a Catfish and the Bottlemen song. When the music next changed, however, Cyrus raised and eyebrow and asked, “Is this All-American Rejects? It is, isn’t it?”

“What? They’re not that bad.”

“I’m judging you.” He took another sip of his coffee.

“You recognized them.”

“They were inescapable on the radio,” he said, making a show of a shudder.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “You can change it if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll survive.” Cyrus’s teasing tone returned, faintly.

A smile touched Thomas’s lips as he shook his head. “Whatever you say.”

Cyrus’s attention drifted back out the window. The yards of the homes grew ever larger as they passed, one by one, and fields started to sprout up between them. Trees came down from the hillsides and slowly began to press in around the winding roads. Everything was still dark, dark, dark, and Cyrus kept glancing toward the sky, hoping to catch sight of a wayward falling star. The Lyrids weren’t supposed to come in earnest until the wee hours before dawn, but that didn’t stop him from looking. They were lucky: the skies were crystal clear tonight, and the further they traveled, the more they could see.

Soon, Thomas started talking again and pulled Cyrus back into conversation. He told Cyrus of his latest ventures in the haunted dressing room, updated him on the drama of the runaway actor, complained bitterly about the injustice of some music company or another, and rambled about his newest favorite thing in history, the Ghost Army of WWII. Cyrus, in turn, listened more than anything, but also offered his thoughts on all these things and spoke of the book he’s been reading and complained about what, he swore, was the worst movie he’d seen in a very long time.

The miles and minutes passed unnoticed, rivers of asphalt stretching out behind them. Human habitation all but disappeared, and their car became the only source of warmth and light on the road. The dull roar of the ocean joined the background bass of all the music. The road decayed beneath them, from tar to gravel to packed dirt, and the trees closed out the sky. Eventually, they reached the end of the road.

“Alright. We have to walk the rest of the way. Don’t worry; it isn’t far,” said Thomas as he shifted the car into park. Both of them got up, gathered their various things, then set off down the trail. Cyrus had merely the jackets he wore and his backpack, whereas Thomas carried a large folded blanket in his arms and had thin duffel bag slung over his back. Cyrus thought about asking what was in the bag, but he decided he would learn soon enough and asked a different question: “How did your dad find this place?”

“You know, I never asked? This is private property, but I’ve never had any trouble from anyone. He was probably just exploring, but maybe he’s friends with the owner?” Thomas shrugged, and all Cyrus could do was shake his head.

It wasn’t much farther until the trees opened up, forestry giving way to grassland and raw cliff. Waves roared against the stone, and the scent of sea spray filled the air. The sky yawned far above them, swirls of stars and light visible that had been long masked by the urban glow, and Thomas jogged a little ahead to lay out the blanket. “This is it!”

“It’s beautiful,” Cyrus murmured, and when Thomas looked over at him, expression asking for repetition, he said more loudly, “I like it.”

“Knew it,” said Thomas, very proud of himself.

“Don’t sound so smug,” he said, smiling and shaking his head a little as he came over and sat down on the blanket. He began to unpack his backpack, but paused as he watched Thomas unzip the duffel bag. He recognized the object withdrawn immediately.

“A telescope? Where did you get that?”

“I borrowed it from Anthony. He has a test tomorrow, so he’s missing this. It won’t help us find the meteors, but since we’re already all the way out here…” He let his voice trail off as he set up the instrument.

Cyrus hummed approval and fussed with his instant camera a bit before somewhat suddenly bringing it up and snapping a quick picture of Thomas, who looked over at the bright flash, rubbed his eyes, and said, “If you had warned me, I could have posed for you.”

“Your poses are terrible.” Cyrus’s tone was matter of fact, but a smile tugged at his lips, and Thomas grinned. Cyrus had no short supply of photos of Thomas and his many, many absurd poses. If he wasn’t fast enough, sometimes he’d get a pose whether he wanted it or not. “This photo might also be terrible,” he added, as he shook the small square of film the camera spat out.

Thomas crawled over, and Cyrus held up the picture as it became clear. The photo was, in fact, terrible. He had caught Thomas mid motion; one of his arms was entirely blurred, and the flash had caught on his glasses and bathed the entire scene in a stark light that made him look more like a cryptid than anything else. After a moment, he put a hand on Cyrus’s shoulder and looked into his eyes, voice and expression full of exaggerated pity, as he said, “Oh, Cyrus. You poor, naive soul… I don’t know who got that for you, but didn’t you know instant cameras are outdated? You may as well throw that old hunk of junk away.”

“Shit, you’re right.” Cyrus stood up. “What was I thinking? It’s a good thing we’re next to this giant landfill. The guy who gave it to me was an asshole anyway. Did you know he collected records? Talk about behind on the times.” Shaking his head, he wound up for a throw, and Thomas could compose himself no longer.

Bursting out into laughter, he threw himself at Cyrus’s legs. “No!”

There was no resistance; Cyrus fell forward with a yelp, and Thomas was still giggling as he pulled himself up and readjusted his glasses. “Sorry… Are you okay?” When his question was only met with a groan, he scooted a little closer, and concern rose in his voice as he leaned in a little. “Cy? I’m sorry; I didn’t think that would be enough to knock you over. I really was trying to hold back. Are you okay?”

Still face down in the blanket, Cyrus reached up, slowly, and shoved Thomas’s face away from him. “You’re a dick.” He pulled himself back up into a sitting position. “But yeah, I’m okay.”

Thomas breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.”

Panic flirted across Cyrus’s expression, however, when he remembered the camera; his gaze darted about the blanket, and he snatched it up to examine it closely.

“Shit, is it alright?”

“Yeah, I think so. Good, because if you broke it, you would need to buy me another one.”

“I know.” Thomas still sounded a little abashed.

“…I wasn’t going to actually throw it.”

“I know. I was just playing. Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Hey. Don’t worry about it.”

Thus certain he was forgiven, he perked back up, his easy smile returning. “Okay.” He moved back toward the telescope, looked through the lens, then started to fuss with the device as he said, “The radiant point for this shower is Lyra the harp, where Vega is. Do you think you could help me find it? You’re better at this than me.”

“Sure.” Cyrus flopped back onto the blanket. He had become intimately familiar with the shape of the sky in his youth, spending many hours in hospitals staring up at the twinkling lights, a book of legends and constellations in his lap. Vega was easy to find, relatively. It was a brilliant star that hung directly above the land below, and though Lyra was a small constellation, other, larger constellations bordered it. The Corona Borealis, Hercules, Draco, Cygnus… There were more stars visible here which muddied the sky, but nevertheless, one by one, he picked the constellations out from the mass.

Thomas threw himself down beside him. “Did you find it? Have you seen any meteors yet?”

“None yet. It’s there.” Cyrus pointed. “The bright one, with the four other stars beside it.”

“I think I see it.”

“When do the meteors come?”

“They’re falling now, actually. At the height of the shower, they fall at one or two a minute. They can appear anywhere in the sky, but most are supposed to come from Lyra.” He smiled, a wry touch of amusement coloring his voice. “I know I shouldn’t be surprised you brought your camera–one of them, anyway–but there’s no way you’ll be able to catch a picture of any meteors.”

“It would be a waste of film to try,” he agreed. “But I wanted to be prepared.”

“You only bring the instant out for special occasions.”

“My first meteor shower is a special occasion. Besides, these look nicer on my wall.”

Chuckling lightly, Thomas relented. “Alright.” After a moment, though, he gasped and nudged Cyrus’s arm. “I saw one! Did you see that? It was over there!”

“Yeah! I did.”

“Your first shooting star, hm..? Did you make a wish?”

“Of course.”

“Okay; don’t tell me.”

“I won’t.” Cyrus paused briefly, then said, “Thomas?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for taking me out here.”

“It’s my pleasure. Honest.”

#drabble #thomas #this took place at about the height of the friendship a good several months before their fallout #this is incredibly self indulgent but hey you get to see how these two actually were together #as happy as it is its still a little sad bc they arent friends anymore rip #drabbles are always ok to rb btw

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