#and turned into me just being furious and then buying an album and immediately going home bc i didn't even feel like getting food anymore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

munsonenthisiast · 3 years

Text

Then & Forever

A/N: I wrote this in like five days and had my bestie edit. This is my first time writing anything, but I love Josh so-

Summary: Since you started working for GVF, you and Josh had grown close to each other over the years. This time you hope your feelings don't get in the way of ruining everything you built.

Contains: Smut, drinking, smoking, cursing

WC: 10.9k

"So you're saying that. . . you've never played an instrument before?" Sam pointed at his bass. You laughed at the question, sipping your beer. "Correct." Sam furrowed his face in confusion. "Then why do you have a degree IN music if you can't play?" Josh hit Sam on the shoulder with a pencil making a small face. You shrugged your shoulders, swishing the alcohol around your mouth. "I don't know, It's just something I've never wanted to do, you know. I guess it's one thing knowing about an instrument rather than playing it."

Everyone nodded in agreement. "Well, if you did play anything I'm sure you'd be really good at it." Josh smiled towards you. He went back to writing in his journal while everyone else went back to respectively playing their own instruments.

But for you, it seemed a long way home. Never did it cross your mind that you would basically be living with four different people from time to time. Especially not so quickly. Greta Van Fleet was your first job, and really, first anything. From high school until now, you were alone. Which made you a little grumpy when working with people, but none the less you warmed up to them quickly. Especially Josh, who always seemed attached to the hip with you.

Josh may have annoyed you a tiny bit at first, but his euphoric mind is what intrigued you in the first place. He always seemed so wise, knowing the right answer to everything. And the way he wrote the lyrics to songs, just naturally appeared to him somehow. It was truly magic.

Jake smacked you on the arm, calling for your attention. "Ok, what do you think of this." He pulled the guitar over his lap, playing the notes he came up with. You quickly wrote down the notes he played, looking out for any correction. "So what do you think?" He asked, flailing his arms around. Running your pencil down the piece of paper, you started to shake your head. "I think it sounds pretty good," you said looking at Josh, who also nodded his head in compliance. "What would also sound cool is if you gave it a little vibrato during a live show."

Jake smiled writing the commentary down on a sticky note. "You know, for not knowing how to play, you really are smart with this kind of stuff." You glared your eyes at him, snickering just a little bit. Everyone worked for a couple of more hours, before calling it a night. Danny and Sam were practically sleeping on each other.

You shook Sam awake, snatching his car keys from his hand. "We'll both be dead if you drive, and were the most important in the band. Well, besides Danny. And Jake. And Josh." You twirled the keys around your finger while Sam stretched to get awake. Josh flipped all the pages over in his journal, turning to you. "We got pretty far today, don't you think?" Josh smiled at his brothers, who were already arguing about something. "Yeah. Maybe we'll get better stuff done tomorrow, you know. This is supposed to be the 'fun' part," you said using air quotations, "but the most boring part out of everything. But maybe, in the end, it'll all be worth it." you hit Josh's arm softly.

"Are you going with Sam?" you nodded quickly. "Yeah, I kind of promised him I would help him with some stuff in the morning." Josh looked sadder than ever. You smiled at Josh, noticing Sam waiting by the door with Jake and Danny. "I'll see you later." You gave Josh a quick kiss on the head.

"Let's go." you wiggled a finger at Sam, practically dragging him to the car. The ride to Sam's house was fairly quiet other than the little snores coming from him. It was nice to get a moment or two of peace to yourself. Working and living with four grown men gave no room for privacy. Everything is shared between you all. Which you had to admit, scared you a little at first because you've always grown up with a sister and maybe a few girlfriends here and there; but you were never as close to them, then as you were to the band.

The house was quiet when you walked in, dark and dim from the night sky. Sam immediately walked to his bedroom, and passed out on his bed. Which left you alone in the kitchen. Putting some of the items away in cabinets, you looked around at all the brothers' family photos, including some of Danny. It made you smile to yourself to see some of them so young and happy. Maybe a little vulnerable too. You were a little envious of how confident some of them had been with their work, just being able to put themselves out there, accepting failure. Not you though. Failure made you angry, furious even. Sometimes it got so bad, you'd hide away for days without any contact with the outside world.

After putting all the trash away, you headed back to the spare room. You turned on all the lights, changing into some warmer clothing. Crawling under the sheets, sleep came easy that night.

When you woke up, the blinds had been left the night before causing you to shoot out of bed. Quickly rubbing your eyes, you went to the bathroom to clean up a bit. When you walked towards the kitchen, your feet padded beneath you. Sam still wasn't up, which was pretty normal. You started some coffee and cooked breakfast for the two of you. Though, something triggered you to open a forbidden drawer and bum a cigarette. Quickly lighting it, you messed around with food until it was cooked.

"A cigarette at 8 in the morning?" Sam questioned groggily, clad in just sweatpants. "Well, you know me; I only smoke when I'm forgetting something." You both said in unison. You quickly waved him off, pouring food onto a plate for both of you. "I wonder WHO you're forgetting." You scrunched your face, looking around the room. "What do you mean who?" Sam scoffed. "Josh," You quickly rolled your eyes, slamming the plate down on the table "Eat the fucking food you loser." You both contently ate in peace while making some playful banter here and there. "So what exactly do you need help with?" Sam pulled out a cigarette from the cartridge, silently lighting.

"I need help with a decision." Sam stared at you while you nodded your in question, pretending like you at least understood what he was talking about. "Look, I just want you to go with me to buy another bass, ok. And I want to go to the record store." Narrowing your eyes, you pulled the cigarette from him. "I feel like this is something completely different than what you're telling me." Sam shook his head slowly. "Nope. I still want to keep the mint-colored bass, but I just want to have a cool collection, you know. Oh, let's buy something expensive!" He pointed the smoke at you, while you collected the dishes to put in the sink. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, please. We can not go broke. Not like last time." You shuddered at the thought.

"Thanks for the food. I'm gonna get ready." You flinched your eyebrows and kept washing the dishes, putting them in the dishwasher. You quickly went back to the room for a change of clothes. By the time you were done, Sam was waiting at the door for you. Grabbing your coat and your shoes, you both headed out the door. Sam was walking coolly beside you, as you both looked around the town. Shops were lining down the small street, with cars passing through. He put his arm around your shoulder as you both passed through large crowds. Finally finding the music shop, you both walked in, heading to a certain section.

"So remind me," He paused to look at a sleek grey bass, flipping it over a couple of times. "Why don't you ever get with Josh? I mean he obviously likes you." You scoffed a little bit at his statement. "I thought we were here for you Sam, not to talk about me." You picked up a dark wood bass, showing it to Sam. "I mean with that same logic why don't I ever get with you? I mean we're close, right?" He rolled his eyes, still playing with the instrument you showed him.

"I think I like this one." Sam brought it up to the counter, talking to the girl up front. Who seemed to really enjoy the conversation they were having. Turning on your heel, you waited by the door playing with some random drum sticks. Sam eventually walked over and led you out. "It'll be delivered in a couple of weeks. I bought a whole new one." You pursed your lips smiling at Sam. "Did you also manage to snag that poor girl's number?"

Sam pushed you upside the head as you walked into the record store. You both parted ways looking at different sections. You flipped through vintage albums, picking out random ones you thought everyone would enjoy. After looking through some more, Sam found you and walked to the front to pay. "You found quite a lot there," Sam said, peeking through the ones in your hand.

"Yeah, figured I could add a bit to my very depressing collection." you chuckled, looking at one of the sleek covers. "Don't you have like two?" you glared back at Sam. "Which I believe are both of your band's albums." Sam laughed. You both paid, bags in hand.

"So what now?" you asked Sam as you both mindlessly walked around. "Probably go home. Want me to take you back?" You nodded in agreement and headed back to his car.

After saying goodbye to Sam, you walked back up the stairs to your apartment. When you opened the door, Josh appeared from your room, causing you to nearly break the table in the hallway.

"What the hell Josh!" He shrugged his shoulders, making his way to the couch. "What are you doing here?"

"I was waiting until you got back from hanging out with my brother. What were you two doing anyway?" Pouring a glass of water from the sink, you took a sip, and made your way to the couch next to Josh. You leaned your head back on the cushion, staring at the ceiling. "Sam bought a pretty hefty bass, and bought more records." You looked over at Josh. "What about you?"

"Well you know," he sighed. "Tried to work on writing up some new lyrics. Even went over to Danny's and Jake's to work some stuff out. It's coming along nicely." Setting the cup down on the coffee table, you looped an arm around Josh's, leaning your head on his shoulder. "Good. It'll come out beautifully in the end," you said patting his hand. You sniffed, sitting up in your seat. "Are you staying for dinner?" Josh hummed looking up at you. "Oh yeah. I was actually wondering if I could stay for the night; get's kind of lonely at my place." You nodded.

"Yeah, that's fine." You walked over to the kitchen. "Anything in mind you want to eat?" you asked. "Uh, how about that chicken. The one you make with the rice, mushrooms, and asparagus." You started to pull out the pots and pans, placing them on the stove. You leaned back on the counter watching everything cook. To be quite frank, you didn't know how you would handle Josh staying over. Of course, you and Josh were rather close, it even shocked people that you knew each other so well. After all, he knew you better than your own blood.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. On one hand, it would give you time to think some things over and ponder the questions Sam had asked you earlier today. And then you could for sure decide what you wanted to do. You grabbed some plates and moved the food over to the table. Josh was already seated, patiently awaiting your arrival.

"Looks good, as always." he complimented, raising his hands towards you. "Thanks, Josh." you smiled.

"So," he said, chewing his food. "What happened at the music store?" Rolling your eyes at the thought of Sam annoying you, you told him about how he was flirting with the girl at the front desk. "I mean just giggling, and laughing, it was like watching teenagers make out." You made a small coughing noise thinking about Sam flirting with that poor girl. "But, you know, as they say, there's someone for everyone," you said sarcastically, shaking your head. Josh let out a high-pitched laugh at Sam. "That's Sam for you. He bore you with anything else?"

You thought about all the moments were Sam had bullied you over liking Josh or falling in love with Josh. Of course, you loved Josh but you weren't sure whether you were 'in love' with him per se. He was practically your other half. Nobody else could compare to that. But it was hard to decipher whether you even liked him like that. "You know. The usual; stuff about when you all were younger and more embarrassing moments."

Josh covered his face with his hands, groaning. "I hope it wasn't all too bad." He shook his head, eating the last bits of food. "Not at all, actually." As you both finished your plates, you sat in comfortable silence. That was until Josh spoke out about something.

"Hey remember that time- ugh geez, when was it," he asked, pressing on his face. "Probably around the time I first met you, and I pretty much knew then you hated my fucking guts, man" You let out a breath at the thought of Josh thinking you hated him. "But that was also the time I kept catching you listening to the album at the time. Just over and over and over again." Josh just shook his head thinking of you. "I didn't- hate you," you confessed. "I just really didn't know how to be around people so much. I did like that album though." you laughed, pointing at Josh. Who also laughed along with you. "Look, I'm sorry I made you feel that way; I just, I've never really had close friends like you." Before he could say anything back, you picked up the plates, placing them in the sink.

From inside the kitchen, you could hear him talking to his brothers on the phone. The usual screaming, laughing, and anger from whatever stupid joke someone told. It honestly made you wish you were closer to your own sister. Whom you haven't spoken to in the past ten years. After you finished off with the dishes, you walked to your bedroom. Which was hard to admit, but you had an entire wall full of Greta Van Fleet photos from when you first started working with them because you had a hard time telling who was who.

"Oh, I remember these photos!" Josh exclaimed as walked into your room. He marveled at all the photos you had printed out and plastered on the wall. Some even had labels of all the boy's names. "Yeah, a little creepy, don't you think?"

Josh shrugged. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt because you didn't know who we were, and I know some people have a hard time differentiating between us twins." You turned around and opened up the bag full of record vinyl, handing some to Josh. "Here, I bought some for you earlier, and I figured I could use some- given the only two I have are from your band." He giggled, flipping through the different albums. "Oh, Bob Dylan! What a legend and old Michael Jackson! Very good stuff." You patted his shoulder as you put away all the other albums on a shelf.

"So, the spare bedroom should be good-" Josh cut you off. "I was hoping to sleep with you, actually. Unless that makes you too uncomfortable." You nearly choked on your own spit when Josh asked you that. You really didn't think he'd be that lonely. "Um, no that's fine. I'm sure I have someone's clothes here you can use." He grinned.

"Thanks." You handed him some spare clothes and left him to change in the bathroom. When you returned he was already tucked in, facing the wall with the pictures. Turning off the light, you quietly slid in next to him. You'd never really been in this much of an intimate situation, no less next to Josh. It wasn't awkward, but it was just hard to decipher the feelings of the both of you, and where he was going with his suggestion. "Can I ask you something?" Josh whispered. He turned around to face you closer.

"What was your initial thought when you first met me?" You laughed a little to yourself. "When I first met you I wanted to be exactly like you." Josh propped himself up on his elbow, leaning even closer to you.

"What about me?" he asked. "I don't know. You were always so confident, and the way you carried yourself; just, it made me so mad and angry that I couldn't be like that. Maybe that's why it came off that I hated you a little bit." Josh laid back down.

"Listen, you'll always be the best thing that happened to me. When I first met you, I thought you had the most brilliant mind out of everyone I ever met. Except for Danny. He's got an excellent brain." You smacked his arm laughing out loud.

"Thank you, Josh." You rolled over onto your side, hoping to fall asleep soon. Before you did though, you felt Josh slip an arm around your side; his face falling into the back of your neck. Soon, both of you fell asleep together.

When morning came the next day, Josh was still entangled in your back, but this time his arm was hugging you tighter. At any slight movement, he just pulled you closer. Finally giving up from moving away from Josh, you laid there silently in his arms. You silently traced the creases in his hand, thinking absentmindedly. He stirred a tiny bit but never woke. You took this time to turn around and look at him. His arm still wrapped around tightly on your shoulder; causing you to bury your face into his chest.

Inhaling his warm scent, you just about closed your eyes imagining a world where you were in love with him, and he loved you back. At this moment, he started to finally wake up. You decided to keep your eyes closed, too embarrassed to see what his reaction would be to find you both like this. You could feel Josh's eyes looking around the room before they made their way down to you. Feeling the certainty of him staring down at you made you panic a little. But then you could feel his hand start to part through your hair, moving it out of your face. His movement followed by leaning forward, giving you a long slow kiss on the forehead.

Then there was the fine sensation of his lips lingering on your skin. He started whispering your name, shaking you awake. You slowly blinked your eyes to make it look like you hadn't really been awake all this time. He smiled brightly when you both made eye contact. "Good morning," he said softly. You smiled, placing a hand on his chest. "Good morning Josh."

Letting out a little yawn, you turned over and sat up on the side of the bed. You sipped on some water that had been on you bedside for a while, then stretched out. "What do you plan on doing today?" you asked groggily. "Everyone wanted to meet up today and go over some stuff. Wanna join?" you quickly nodded your head.

"Great. Well then, I'll go take a shower and get ready." He walked away silently, leaving you all alone once more. Deciding against the better of things, you too got up to shower. While waiting for the water to heat up, you traced against the spots where Josh's hand had been.

It's like there was a space left on you, but you could only feel the invisible touch leftover from him. Jumping in the shower felt like you were committing a terrible sin. The handprint of Josh washed away as every drop of water hit your body. But it felt just as warm and comforting as him. After quickly getting dressed, you met Josh at the front door who was holding it open for you. The crisp autumn air surprised you in the face when you walked outside. The sidewalks weren't too busy but crowded to perfection

You both got in the car and drove to the studio. Everyone was already there by the time you two made it; For some reason, Josh had wanted to stop to get everyone coffee and a bagel, which you really couldn't say no to. Sam raised his eyebrows at you when you walked in with Josh pretty late. You hit him on the arm lightly. Sam rubbed the part of his arm, cursing you off. Everyone, including you, walked into a backroom set with all the instruments anyone could think of, and two very well-loved on couches.

The lights in the room were set to a dim, vintage-style brown, illuminating everyone's tan features. Josh handed the food out, starting the conversation. It varied from topic to topic.

"How is everyone?"

"Are there new ideas anyone wants to talk about?"

"How about we do this instead of that."

Josh snapped his fingers in front of your face, waving his hand around. "Hey silly, I asked you a question." you looked up quickly, meeting everyone's gaze. "Huh?"

"I said do you have any ideas on what we should wear?" You pulled out a small sketchbook from your jacket pocket showing Josh, and the rest of the band on the different aesthetics for clothing. "I was thinking about stitching some nudity art on the back for Josh. I'll probably go shopping for some silk and thread. I found this really cool jacket piece for Jake; I'll add some things on it, and a shiny blazer for Sam. As for Danny, I found these really nice pants, but I have to tailor them. I'm still trying to find a smooth shirt to go with."

You wrote down some reminder notes giving the rest some time to process anything and get started. Josh sat next to you on one of the couches, pulling out his note journal. He pointed out some of the lyrics, whispering to himself before showing it to you. "I came up with these this morning." your cheeks turned red, though you doubt Josh could see given how dark it was. You read through the lines in each glorious manner. They each had a delicate touch to them, written with something personal

It reminded you of something ethereal. Like being in outer space, and getting to look at all the planets from afar. "What are you thinking?" Josh asked. You let out a short breath before answering. "I think it's good. Really good in fact. I can feel it's personal to you, you know."

Before he could respond, there was a line of curses causing you both to look up. Jake was yelling at himself and the guitar in his hands with a tiny string poking out from the neck of the guitar.

"This fucking piece of shit keeps breaking," he he groaned, with gritted teeth. Rolling your eyes, you went to the other grabbing some new guitar strings. Handing them back Jake, he mumbled out a thank you. "Guess what, it's not that hard to get up and get new strings, Jake. I just did it by myself." Everyone laughed at your taunting to Jake, getting rid of his frustrated mood.

"Well, you're the best." He poked your shoulder. You headed back to another room to think about some more things. Possibly about Josh; but the majority for the band. Really working with them, never gave you time to put yourself out there. Which wasn't a terrible thing. In fact, you preferred not to out. You've always had a one-track mind. Focused too much on one thing, forgetting completely about anything else. It's probably why you'd failed out of most schools during your high school and college career. It always ended up being too much for your brain to handle.

Maybe that's what you feared most. Things always getting in the way; either making you angry, or angry enough to run away and never look back. You didn't want that with Josh. Nor did you want that for this band. You made some more scratch notes, listening to the muffled sound of music. After a while, you doodled in your notebook for some clothing ideas. Stitching had been one of the many skills that stuck with you since when. You never really knew where you learned to do such a thing.

Josh always told you how marvelous your work was. That it belonged in a museum of some sort. He knew somehow that you'd do great things with art. When sketching became boring, you shopped around online for some fabric, and thread, ordering what you needed. When finished some smaller portions of work, you fell back on the couch pushing your hair out of your face. Josh walked in at the right time, pulling you back into the studio.

"We hashed some things out, figured what don't and do want for some of the songs. Think we'll be ready to record in a few weeks." All the boys cheered each other on, pushing each other around. "I think this calls for a celebration over some drinks."

"Great idea. There's a bar a couple of blocks from here. What do you say?" Everyone hummed in agreement, piling out the door. Josh had a hand on your back as he walked you out through all the doors.

When you walked inside there were a few people seated around. It wasn't overbearing crazy. Everyone took a seat at the bar ordering drinks. You had already taken a couple of tequila shots to loosen up for the night. "So tell me," Josh slouched down in his seat. "What do you think the future holds for this band." You giggled, already a little drunk.

"What I think doesn't matter Josh. I think that you'll be successful in whatever you choose to do. I think it's you as the leader to help everyone along. In my opinion, they're here to support you and your ideas. I mean, of course, they have their own input but you get what I'm saying." Josh nodded along, sipping his drink. "That's quite a mouthful, but yeah. I'd do anything for these people. For Christ's sake, three of them are my brothers. And Danny I've known for like ever." He pointed to them, which they were all fighting about something.

Josh shook his head, looking down at the floor. He placed a hand on your shoulder as he left for another drink. Sam soon replaced Josh, slouching in the same position. "What were you two talking about." He waved a finger around your face. To which, you quickly swatted away. "He loves you, Sam. We love you. I love you, Sam."

Sam pursed his lips, squinting his eyes. "You're that drunk already?" You hummed looking at your watch seeing as only twenty minutes had passed. "Well Sam, the night's still young, so I'm willing to get fucking wasted if you are." He quickly nodded his head, ordering the two of you more drinks. As the night went on, all of you managed to play twelve rounds of pool (none of which you won), a game of cards, and meet totally random people. You, including the boys, were completely wasted and it wasn't even one in the morning. Danny and Jake had left to go god knows where, leaving you, Sam, and Josh talking to some random girl at a table. Looking over at Josh, you felt your heart hurt a little.

Sometimes you wish you had the assertiveness that Josh had to talk to him. Deep down you knew he would never reject you. He would randomly bring up why you never got together, but you always dismissed the conversation too scared of what might happen. Sam slipped next to you, turning his chair around to face you. He followed your line of sight, his eyes landing on Josh laughing with the same girl who's been here for hours.

"Look, if it pisses you off that much, talk to him later. It's not like he's gonna hate you for the rest of his life. He practically loves you to death." You shook your head, taking another drink of your beer. "I'm just- I'm not mad- I'll just never be able to be that person who can just randomly walk up to a person and fall 'in love' with them." You cried. Every time you think about it, you just want to go to bed and hide. "But how come I never end up with people like you or Jake or even sweet people like Danny. Why does it have to be Josh?"

Sam sat up in his chair, turning it back around to face the bar. "Why don't you try it. Maybe you fighting inside that big head of yours really doesn't like Josh after all." Sam said as he cradled your face, shaking it around. "Really?" Sam shrugged. "What's the worse that can happen? If something happens, so be it. Never hurts to try anything."

Sam bent down quickly, kissing you softly. His lips felt smooth against yours like running a hand over pliable silk. He swiftly ran a hand through your hair, pulling your face closer to his. Finally, he pulled away, smiling down at you.

"Nope." you shook your head. "Well hey, at least we know." He patted your shoulder, walking away towards a game of cards being played.

The next day you woke up with an intense headache. There was some leftover water and Ibuprofen on your nightstand. You didn't know how you made it back home or really remember anything at all from the night before.

You downed the pill and some water, making your way slowly to the bathroom, balancing yourself on a wall. You turned on the shower letting the hot water settle the uneasiness in your stomach. The pounding inside your head kept going on for what felt like hours. It didn't help either that you were trying so hard to remember the night before. Of course, you knew that you drank more than you could handle. Then there was Sam. But it all stopped there.

The shower helped a little bit. You danced around to find some clothes to get ready, or at least look decent. After getting ready, you drove back to Sam's. When he opened the door, you noticed Jake and Danny were there already. Except for no Josh. Not that it was out of the ordinary, it was just something you expected.

You made your way through his kitchen, pulling out a cigarette. "I don't think you really wanna be smoking that right now." You glared at him before putting the smoke out. "Um, do you remember what happened last night?" You asked, rubbing the small spot on your head in hopes to get rid of the pain. Sam bit into a piece of food, answering with his mouth full. "We kissed. Yeah," he nodded in assurance. "Yeah, we kissed." You let your head fall into your hands, groaning.

"How'd I get home?" Sam hummed, pointing his piece of food at you. "Josh. Although, he seemed pretty pissed at me. You were also super drunk." Right, you thought. Of course, this would happen to you. Partially you blamed yourself for being so stuck-up and bitchy most of the time, but part of you wishes Sam just pushed you away. Why were you so indecisive all the damn time? For once, it would be nice if you could make a whole-hearted decision without going out and fucking everything up.

You scratched around your eye, watching Sam as he went to go sit next to Jake.

4 weeks later. . .

It really had been almost a whole month that you had gone without talking to Josh. Some nights you wish you could pick up your phone and just text him, but you know it would go unnoticed. It hurt just a little bit. Every day you blamed yourself for screwing things up. When was it not your fault that something went wrong?

You sat bored at home. You tried to catch up on different things like laundry, cleaning, reorganizing literally everything, but nothing seemed to work. You muffled curses under your breath at nothing. That was until you got a text from Jake saying that everyone needed your 'strong womanly brain' to work with. Over the four-week period, you hadn't really talked with the other band members except for Danny (who seriously cares for anybody and everything), and Sam who just random stuff.

You flipped through a random magazine, flipping through the pages reading about the different styles and how to flaunt them. That was until a text from Sam disturbed you saying that everyone needed you at the studio ASAP.

You ran to your door faster than ever, quickly putting on your coat and shoes. When you arrived, no one was seen at first, so you went to the back and everyone was gathered around in a large, huddled circle. Jake was the first to greet you, Sam following close behind.

"Hey! I haven't seen you in a long time." Jake towered over you, pulling you into his side. "Yeah, my mom called. Wanted me to go see her." you lied, looking at Sam, who had just turned in the other direction. "Well, I hope she's doing good. Look, I wanted to see your opinion on some things. Just general stuff, okay?" you nodded. He led you back to a table and passed some papers around, and a little CD that had pre-recorded music. Before any of you could speak though, a door creaked loudly, and out came Josh with a petite girl beside him. His smile immediately disappeared when his eyes landed on you.

The girl looked. . . nice. In other words, she looked like a pleasant enough girl Josh would pick from a crowd. She had a tan, rich skin like his. With wavy, brown hair. Unlike Josh, she had more hazel-green eyes. Everyone stood there awkwardly, looking around at each other. You scratched the top of your head, eyes facing down towards the table. Jake cleared his throat before grabbing a seat for Josh, and the girl.

And of course, to make more room they were both seated in between you and Jake, making her sit right next to you. You smiled nervously towards her as she got herself situated. For a while, you stared at the velvet walls as Jake led on the conversation. You felt a little poke on your arm and noticed she was trying to talk to you.

"Hi, I'm Logan," she whispered. The one thing you noticed about Logan was her smile. It reminded you of Josh. His naturally bright teeth could make anyone instantly happier. "Y/N," you said curtly. You weren't the one to start a conversation, but luckily she made it easy.

"So, how do you know Josh?" she asked, pointing to him. You played around with your nails, turning to look at her. "Uh, I work for him," Not 'I'm his best friend or anything. Totally just ruined the relationship I had by kissing his younger brother because I'm really in love with the man your dating' "And them too, of course." you gave a hesitant laugh, pointing to the rest of them. She bit her lip, turning to listen to the conversation, and then back to you.

"How long have you known all of them, or like worked for them I guess?"

"Around three years. This will be my fourth I think." she nodded with your answer. Finally, she turned back around to listen to what Josh was saying.

You looked back down at the disc, swirling it around on the table. This is hard, you thought. It's all you can think about. Logan's so kind towards you; not the weirdly hostile type. She's not annoying, not inconclusive about anything. Logan's perfect in her own way. She's perfect to Josh. Something you've always wanted, but you, yourself stopped you from having.

"So, uh Y/N, can you take a listen to the CD?" Jake asked you. "Yeah. It'll just be a little later though. I have to finish some other stuff." There was silence as everyone stared at you. Including Josh, who seemed to have a permanent look on you.

"I can listen; if you're busy," Logan speaking up caught you by surprise. It may have angered you a bit because that was your job, to listen. You just looked back at Sam anxiously, who shook his head at you.

"Oh, my bad," Josh said loudly. "This is my girlfriend- Logan. Who you have all met before, but not Y/N. Forgot to introduce you two." If everyone hadn't been in the room right now, you would've gotten up and hit him right across the head. Logan kindly smiled back at you. "Yeah, we were talking earlier," She said pointing to you. "Well, as I said, I can listen if you can't."

If it was anybody else, you would've said something back already. But who were you to yell at this kind, beautiful woman next to you? Though, Sam must've read you wrong since quietly grabbed your wrist. "Sure," you said, handing the CD to Logan. Sitting back in your chair, defeated, what else were you supposed to do?

Another lousy week passed, and you wanted to jump off a roof. It had been raining for the past few days, never letting up once. No one had really made contact with you except Danny (you secretly loved him to death), and Sam. You were pretty sure the rest had picked up on the tense atmosphere and didn't want to bother you. No doubt, you probably wouldn't want to speak with yourself either.

You shrugged off a sweater, playing with the end of your sheets. Life was so boring now without any entertainment from anyone. You eventually rolled over on your back, staring a hole into the ceiling. You went over every excuse and explanation you could give to Josh. You understood why he was mad, you figured that much. But sometimes you wish he had his smart wisdom back to understand you better.

You fell to the floor sometime later, reading something random off the shelf. You flipped through the pages mindlessly before you heard some knocking at your door. You ran quickly, opening the door to find Sam standing there with bottles of gin and tequila in his hand. Laughing quietly, you led him inside, finding some bottles for drinks.

"What brings you around?" you raised your eyebrows, pouring some tequila for you and Sam. "Josh," he cleared his throat, taking a few sips. "What about Josh?" Trying to hold your breath, made you curious as to why Josh's younger brother was so angry at him. In fact, you wanted to burst out laughing. "He's so stubborn with everything, and the way he talks about you. God- it's like- I've never seen so much hatred from him." Sam shook his head downing the rest of his drink. He poured some more in his cup and your cup.

You took Sam's hand leading him to your room. You put on Labi Siffre, an old, classic album. You also turned on one of your dim colored lights. They lit up Sam's cheekbones perfectly, making his pale skin glow flawlessly. It looked smooth enough to run a finger over and feel the gentle, velvety skin of Sam.

"How does he talk about me?" Sam closed his eyes, thinking. "He just doesn't let go of the subject. Anytime you or I come up, it's just this rage of fury from him. He almost shuts down essentially. You know," he burped. "They all went out tonight."

You hummed at that. "They all went out, leaving behind you and me." You scoffed at the thought of Josh with Logan at your favorite bar or restaurant. "I'm so sorry Sam." You rubbed his arm, looking down at the floor next to your bed. "That was you and your brother's relationship, and I just," you flicked your hands, making a whoosh sound. Sam laughed, leaning into your side. "Don't worry about it. I like helping you out. Josh can be a little much sometimes."

You elbowed him in the side thinking about something. "Hey whatever happened to the girl from the music shop? You ever talk to her lately?"

"Yeah," he huffed out. "We've been talking lately. She wants to meet up sometime soon, but I don't know." You cocked your head to the side. "Why not. You clearly like her and she really likes you. I don't remember when the last time some actually liked you." Sam pretended he was hurt, pushing you to the side. "I'll ask her sometime when I'm not busy. She's nice."

"And pretty?" you questioned. Sam let out a laugh, swirling the alcohol in his cup. "Very pretty." You both let out sighs sitting in comfortable silence. Although, your mind was occupied with thoughts of Josh, swirling around and never-ending. There were times you just wanted to get up and say fuck it and try to at least explain. But of course, the rejection of him never wanting to be your friend again would kill you. Maybe this was the universe's cruel way of saying you and Josh were never meant to be together in the first place.

If so, you hated it.

Surprisingly, Sam was the first to wake up. Which rarely happens considering how well you knew him. The poor boy slept through everything. He started shaking you awake, poking and tickling your sides. "Are you dead, jeez?" You quickly rubbed your eyes, sitting up. "Sorry, the alcohol must've really knocked me out." Sam stifled a yawn, sitting on the edge of your bed. "Well, we can do one of two things today," he noted. "We can either go to the studio and face my brother, or we can- do nothing else. That's really it. I kind of swore I would be there today."

You couldn't stay inside any longer. You decided against the greater good to tag along with Sam. Maybe you could talk with Josh, and clear the air. "Can I go with you?" Sam nodded feverishly. "Of course; that's like your job."

"It doesn't feel like it. Logan's pretty much taking over, so what's the point of me." You scoffed thinking of the mellow girl who seemed to get along with everyone. You hated to slander her, but you just wanted Josh back. You and Sam left in a rush, hastily driving to the studio. You walked inside with a cigarette dangling from your lips, smoke escaping through your nose. Sweat seeped from your palms making you excited and nervous at the same time. You felt like an outsider coming in on your job. Thinking about seeing Josh made it worse.

"Hello, Hello Y/N" Danny strutted over, hairs sticking to his forehead. He pulled you in for a tight hug, nearly suffocating you. "Hey, Daniel." you moved the hairs around his face so you could see him better. "Long time, no see, man." He laughed walking back to his seat behind the drum kit. You followed Sam to the other rooms where Jake and Josh might be hiding. Sure enough, Josh was standing next to his twin, listening to a riff he was playing. They immediately stopped talking to each other. Josh scoffed at you as Sam led you inside, beside him.

"Look what the cat dragged in!" Josh said it lowly, spitting it towards you. Your eyes looked down, not daring to ever lookup. "Hey Josh," Sam patted him on the shoulder. You looked awkwardly around the room looking for a means to escape. When you realized there wasn't one, you looked back at Josh. He quietly talked to Jake about something before turning to you. You tried to look away fast enough, but his eyes caught yours. Josh started to stalk close to you, exhaling a breath. "Hey," you thought he might've not heard you, but his response caught you off guard.

"Hey, Y/N" He sniffled a little bit before turning towards you. "Care to take a walk with me? Could use some fresh air." You nodded your head silently, following after him. If your anxiety hadn't kicked in yet, it sure as hell did now. Josh was never a person to scare you. He was too light and giddy for him to be somewhat freighting.

He walked slightly behind you with a hand on the small of your back. Josh eventually let go of you when you both made it to the sidewalk. The people around you made the silence slightly more comfortable but you wished you had something to think about other than Josh. After a few more moments of silence, you decided to speak up, but Josh beat you to it. "I'm sorry for being an ass," he cleared it all out on one breath. You scoffed at him. "I think you were being more than an ass, Josh." He suddenly slowed his walking to match your pace.

"You pretty much left me in the wind. I thought I lost my best friend," you nudged him softly in the ribcage, laughing. He held a hand over his chest, heaving out a relieved breath. "I thought you were going to hate me forever." You pointed at him before saying: "Pull anything like that again, and I'll do more than just hate you forever."

Josh held his hands up abruptly like you had caught him stealing something. "I promise." You smirked. The both of you walked around endlessly making small talk here and there. Part of you was glad that you and Josh had cleared the air. Although, you hadn't really talked with him about Sam. It embarrassed you just thinking about the whole situation.

After you made a full round of the streets, Josh walked you back inside the studio. It was hours before anyone ever got to go home. The moon had fully risen and was shining brightly in the sky. You stared up like a child, holding on tightly to your coat. When you were making your way towards Sam's car Josh had grabbed you by the elbow.

"Y/N," Josh fiddled around with the collar of his jacket, looking down at the concrete. Even though it was pitch black outside, you could tell Josh's face was heating up. "I was wondering if you wanted to come back with me? I know Sam was taking you home, but I still feel like we need to talk." A small smile started to quickly form. You nodded not thinking about the harm that could come from staying with Josh.

"Yeah, sure." you let a hesitant sigh before following him once more. When you arrived inside Josh's home it felt almost foreign. There were slightly disheveled things around, but nothing had really changed. It still had all the same scattered records on the coffee table as well as random books set around the countertops. Josh flipped on the light switch and went towards the kitchen. He came back out and handed you a cup of water before taking off his coat.

"I know, it's been a long time since we spoke," he started. "or even hung out together."

You nodded, sipping some of the water. "Yeah, I kind of missed that."

After you and Josh got situated, he led you back to his room. There was a dim lamp, along with some new fairy lights scattered around the ceiling. "Fairy lights?" You pointed to the little bulbs sparkling brightly. "Oh, yeah," Josh was picking out a record, finally placing it on the player. It was an album you hadn't heard before, but it seemed to fit the mood well enough. Looking around for a little bit longer you come to find some old pictures on the floor. Squatting down, you noticed they were photos of his brothers and Daniel when they were younger. But what really caught your attention was a stack neatly dedicated to you.

Some of the photos had showcased some of you and Josh's late adventures, and the concerts you had appeared to. One in particular in which Josh had his arms wrapped around your middle, seated around a bonfire. That was a night you remember very clearly. That was when you realized how much you loved Josh. He never left your side and coddled you close to him. The memory warmed your heart making it beat a tiny bit faster.

"That was a very hot summer night if I remember correctly." Josh peered over your shoulder, studying the picture. "Yeah, it was. Then I passed out inside the van right after that," you laughed loudly, tossing your head back. Running a finger over your face in the picture still reminiscing on the sweet memory, you could feel Josh watching you from across the room.

"Can you come up here for a sec?" Josh patted his mattress, motioning to you. You could tell he was nervous still when he started to fumble around with his nails, not making much eye contact. "Do you remember when I asked you why you envied me so much?" He let out a slow breath, nudging you a little bit with his elbow. You realized the change in the situation and started to mirror his nervous tics.

"Yeah, I just- wish I could carry myself like you. You're always the most confident person in the room; you know things Josh that no one could ever know." The two of you sat in silence for a little bit after you answered. Josh hesitated before speaking again but continued on after pondering for a bit. "Well, I never felt that way around you. For the longest time, I would beat myself up just thinking about how wonderful you are Y/N. The way you think of me is how I always thought of you. Just not as confident because of how quiet you are sometimes." He laughed out the last part making you smile back.

"God, sometimes I just want to cry because of how amazing you are Y/N. Everything you've done for this band, everything you've done for me; I just - I love you." You slowly turned your head to look at Josh, replaying the words over and over again in your head.

He loves you.

"I'm going to assume you mean in it in that way Josh or this would be very embarrassing." Josh snickered, putting both hands on the side of your face. "I mean it in every way possible." He finally pressed his lips to yours, feeling the velvet touch of each other. Josh ran his fingers through your hair, pressing his tongue in an open-mouthed kiss. You moaned quietly when he started to press kisses along your jaw, down to your neck. You could feel his hands start to travel down to your waist, hugging you tightly as it showed in the picture.

Josh continued to bite down on your skin and sucked, leaving bright red marks behind. His fingers squeezed down on your hips before traveling under your shirt. He placed a knee between your legs, pushing you further into the mattress. You looked at each other momentarily as Josh slipped you out of your shirt. He ran his hands over your stomach making you flinch at the sudden touch.

"Josh," His name came out as a whine as Josh slipped off your bra, throwing it towards the floor. You caught the look of awe when his eyes landed on your breasts, your chest heaving slightly. He returned to kissing down your neck making his way down your collar bone. Your hands made their way to his hair, tugging at it when his mouth made contact with your nipple.

He sucked gently, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud. All you could think about was the euphoric thoughts running through your brain. All you could see were stars, showing up in random directions making you lost in the feeling. Josh continued for a while before slowly traveling down to your legs.

Josh looked at you for approval, to which you vaguely nodded in return, before pulling off your pants. You shuddered at the delicate touch of his fingers ghosting along your skin. His hands traveled back up your calves, pressing at your thighs. The room suddenly became too hot as his fingers wrapped around the strap of your underwear, pulling them down your legs. Your breathing was so ragged by now that you thought Josh might've pointed it out already, but he continued to stare down at you with the most mesmerizing look in his eyes. You knew at this point if this had been anyone else, you probably would've wanted to hide under the bed. Something so comforting about Josh made it feel natural to in his grasps.

Josh started down at your ankles, pressing hard kisses up your legs. He hovered over your pelvis just before kissing around your clit. Your legs immediately started to close at the feeling, but his hand pushed them back farther. "Josh, oh my god!" You moaned out into nothing. He continued sucking hard on your clit making the stars in your head come closer to earth.

"Josh, please," Your hands pulled at his curls as he lapped around your center. "You're so fucking wet for me Y/N. Jesus," He moaned into your heat making you squirm on the bed.

"Please Josh, use your fingers, please." You whined mercilessly at the thought of coming around his fingers. It wasn't long before you felt two fingers drag inside of you, along with the feeling of him sucking your clit. You could feel yourself getting nearer to your orgasm as he curled his fingers against your g-spot. "Josh, don't fucking stop!"

At the perfect moment, everything seemed to fall apart in the most beautiful way. You leaned your head back into the pillow as your vision turned white with little black dots appearing randomly. Josh's breath fanned over your heat before he stood up to take off some of his clothes.

"Can't really have sex if I'm still dressed like I'm going to fucking prom or something, Jesus." You giggled loudly while you watched him crawl back over you. Josh pressed a soft kiss to your lips, grinding his hips against you. Your hand slowly ran over his chest, grabbing onto his belt. You fumbled around until you managed to get it undone along with his pants. Josh stared at your face, admiring your features. "I don't think I'll be able to take you seriously for much longer if you don't do something," you whispered.

"Oh yeah?" Josh raised an eyebrow, smiling at you. You slowly reached past his briefs making contact with his hard-on, causing him to moan quietly and start kissing you again.

"Uh, I don't think I have any condoms on me; I didn't really envision fucking you tonight." You smirked, wrapping your arms around his neck. "It's okay. I'm on the pill." You pulled his underwear down, hiking your legs around his hips loosely. You could feel yourself getting wetter as he passively rolled his forefinger over your clit. You kissed him hard, sucking on his tongue. "Fuck me, please," you begged. Josh looked deeply into your eyes, then grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his hips, tightly. He teased you, rubbing himself up and down your center.

You exhaled as he entered you, wrapping a hand around his bicep to steady yourself. Josh's head fell into your neck, feeling his warm breath as he trusted in slowly. He lifted his head to kiss you; He used his hand to move the hairs out of your face, wrapping it around your cranium. "You are so- prepossessing." He whispered, his thrust becoming faster.

Your nails dug into his shoulder blades after he set such a brutal pace that you didn't think you'd be able to keep up with. You took note of how his curls stuck to his forehead. Whenever he thrust in, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer. His thrust started to shake the bed only spurring you on more. Your hands grabbed at his torso, holding onto him tightly.

"Josh," you breathed out, words lost as they left your mouth. "Don't stop." Josh looked between your bodies as they pressed together. He thrust in deep, pressing you into the bed further. You cursed under your breath, trying to hold back the moans only releasing small high-pitched whines. Your head fell back against the pillow, all the tension releasing your body slowly. "Fuck," Josh moaned into your collarbone. He tightened his grip on your thigh, quickening his thrusts.

You ran your fingers along the nape of his neck, feeling the little hairs stick to his body. Josh moaned, feeling him cum deep inside you. His head fell into your neck as you both tried to catch your breath. Josh smiled, pressing kisses to your chest before laying down next to you.

"Fuck you're amazing," Josh mumbled into your ear. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder pulling your head to his chest. His hands ran down your arm, squeezing the tiny bit of flesh. "Tell me something I don't already know Joshua." You flipped over onto your side, Josh following in pursuit. He tightened his arm once more around your stomach this time. He pressed small kisses along your shoulder, laying his face into your hair.

"I love you," He mumbled.

"I love you too." You placed your hand over his, peace finding you easy tonight.

When you woke up the next morning, Josh still had you in his arms, snoring softly. Like you, he liked to get up when it was still dark out, but given last night you couldn't blame either of yourselves for wanting to sleep in. Josh woke up sometime after, pressing small kisses into the nape of your neck down to your shoulder blades.

"Good morning," he said quietly, wrapping his legs around yours, pulling his body closer to yours.

"Morning Josh." You closed your eyes allowing the quiet of the room to comfort you. It seemed pretty peaceful outside, from what you could hear at least. But your mind was running a thousand miles a minute. How did a three-year friendship change so drastically? If someone told you that three years later you'd be sleeping with Josh, you probably start cursing them out at the bare minimum. Josh infuriated you at the beginning, but what changed that you couldn't get enough? Maybe it was his style? Everyone loves Josh's style. He doesn't really care what goes together, as long as it fits him and his outrageous personality. Speaking of which, Josh's personality was unspoken of. People turned heads when he walked through doors because he was always the life of the party. Normal people just naturally gravitate towards him. Heck, you couldn't even keep up the 'holding a grudge' façade for too long because Josh helped you. Maybe you thanked him for that instead.

"I think we need to get up," you said, patting his hand. He protested that you two keep sleeping longer because it's too early. "Josh it's like," you squinted your eyes towards the clock. "Nine am." You yelled, pushing his arm of you.

You ran into the bathroom to pee before jumping in the shower. After taking some time cleaning yourself and changing into something more comfortable (which ended up being one of Josh's old college sweatshirts because he insisted you looked really good in them) you both left to the studio. Of course, the first one to greet you was your favorite out of the four, Daniel. After he finished talking with Josh, he led the both of you to a back room. It was a large decorated room that you hadn't really been in much. The walls were in stripes of inverted red along with carpet having a velvet touch to it. Plaques labeled the wall with other types of scandalous music art.

Jake and Sam walked in together already arguing about something. "Lookey here," Jake pulled you into a side hug, and Sam passed you a drink. "I thought my smoking habits were bad, but drinking at ten in the morning?" you tutted Sam away from you, taking a seat at a large table. "It helps me think more clearly."

Josh took a seat next to you, placing a hand on your thigh. "Hey, you never showed me the finish drawing for your clothing ideas." You raised your eyebrows and said: "I wonder why." You cocked your head to the side, and Josh frowned at you. Snickering to yourself, you handed him a sketchbook. "These are- really good, Y/N. I forgot you could draw so well." You doodled around the paper of a sketched-out Josh in what would be fashion attire for next year. "One of my many hobbies."

He patted your leg before turning his attention to his twin. Sam waltzed over to your side, a cigarette hanging from his lips. "Is that my brother's sweatshirt?" You glared at him before answering a subtle yes. Sam gasped in a fake manner, holding a hand across his heart.

"Are you two in love with each other finally?" Sam laughed at you giving him a side-eye. "Good. you make Josh happy." Content with that, he left to go sit next to Danny. You played around with the drawing some more, later on, moving to a computer to work there. Everyone left you alone to go play in another room which seems to help numb the background noise. Though, it didn't last long until Josh walked through the door. He strutted over to you, rubbing a hand on your back before sitting down.

"How's it goin' in there?" You closed the laptop, turning your attention towards him. Josh talked about how everything's coming along nicely, and Jake is stubborn about everything or how Sam is always messing up. You hummed, following along. Not that you would ever tell Josh, but sometimes you never would really listen to what he was saying, but you loved to watch his hand movements or the expressions on his face. It added to his character. "I meant to ask you some time ago, but uh- whatever happened to Logan?" Josh immediately froze, looking down to the floor like a scolded puppy.

"I told her I would talk to her later this week." You shook your head, crossing your arms. "What?"

"Nothing; I was just thinking we wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for me oodling with your brother." Josh laughed at your choice of words, placing his hand softly on yours. "I think it was both us Y/N."

'Well, in my defense Sam is kind of hot now that I think about it." Josh slapped your shoulder. "Mmmm, you're right Sam does have that 'sense' to him." Time seemed to fly by the five of you, constantly arguing, laughing, or just goofing off with each other. It felt good to be back with everybody, and not walking around on eggshells. Sometimes the moment was so pleasant, you never wanted it to end.

It was eerily quiet when you walked inside Josh's home. It was nighttime, and the moon was full, shining brightly through the curtains. "Don't you ever wish you could see the stars?" Josh asked randomly.

"Light pollution man," He mumbled out, yeah, heading towards his bedroom. You peeked outside the window one more time, catching a glimpse of the clouds in the sky. Josh had changed into some comfier clothing and slid under the covers. You followed in pursuit, still wearing his old college t-shirt. "Where do you think we'll be in ten years?" The question had taken you by surprise. You knew he had a tendency to think a lot about the future, which was kind of admirable, but you had a hard time figuring out what the future would hold for you.

"That's hard to tell; Not unless I kill you first, but uh, I think we'll still be together, and so will the band. I guess it's just up to the rest of us." Josh hummed at your input. He flipped over on his side to look at you. "I hope we're together forever." Your face started to blush, although you doubt Josh could see, this time you wished he did.

"Me too." Your voice came out with full confidence knowing every ounce of you could never let him go. "Hey, do you think you'd ever let me wear your outfits after this next tour? They're kind of stylish if I say so myself." Josh laughed out loud. "I don't think they'd fit you, honey." You scoffed, pouting.

"Josh, I hate to break it to you but you're not that big." A playful laugh escaped your mouth while you pinched his arm. He pushed you back in return. "I meant your height." He shook his head. You turned around, allowing Josh to trap you in his arms.

"I hope I get to see you in heaven. If there is one." The sound of his voice made you want to cry. It was soft whisper that it felt so delicate at this moment.

"I think if you've seen me then, you will see me forever."

#greta van fleet #josh kiszka #sam kiskza #jake kiszka #danny wagner #jake gvf #josh kiszka x reader

178 notes · View notes

sorry-i-ship-drarry · 3 years

Text

37. You're my home, draco

" well that's not my problem harry, is it ? If you can't fucking do one thing on your own that's your damn fault " draco yelled from across the kitchen at harry who was standing in the middle of the living room looking agitated

" I do things on my own. It's that you are the one who keeps thing's in the house, not me and if you're not responsible enough for it just say it " harry yelled back.

Furiously draco stomped out of the kitchen " responsible? So this is your house when it's about the house lease and paper's and suddenly when it comes to keeping thing's, it's mine. When was the last time you were responsible enough to keep things in the right place on your own? If for once you could fold your own clothes or do your own laundry or maybe just not fucking throw things anywhere you want to, so I'd pick up then maybe, Maybe for once you wouldn't have to ask me where your shit is !! It's not just my own responsibilities " draco yelled at harry face talking off the apron off his waist

" you know what you are right, I'll do my damn shit on my own Because you're fucking irresponsible with whatever you do. After all why would you understand the load of work I have to do each day, going after the bad guys.. if even for one day you'd go things I do then you'd understand where I'm coming from But if this is the way it's going to be, you do your own shit and I'll do mine "harry sneered back

" work ? You're saying as if I don't do work? I teach at least 6 classes in a day, check almost 200 copies, sit with a bunch of teachers who are much more older than me, clean the mess of the potions students make, don't you dare compare our work! Just because your work requires more strength or power or maybe responsibility, doesn't mean I don't do shit "

" draco, you're a damn teacher. I am a goddamn auror. I put my life on line everyday so I can make money for us-"

" and you're not the only man making money in this house. I earn only 200 galleons less than you do and that's not even a huge deal so stop making it seem as if you're the man of the House or that you are doing a great deal for me because let me be honest, the only thing you do for me is creating problems and fighting, that's it " draco yelled and stormed out of the house before harry could've yelled back further.

Harry groaned loudly shutting off the house and storming away himself to get away from the horrors the place held. Both of them Only returned much later after midnight at the same time and went to bed immediately without saying even a single word. And the next morning, draco left the house much more earlier than he was supposed to, leaving a note that he'd be at Hogwarts for at least a week as per the requirements by the school board to finish off with the heavy work left pending. At first harry was Happy seeing the note, thinking to himself that the house would be Empty after so Long.

But he was wrong.

At night when he came back to a messed up home, no cooked meal, he felt slightly furious and almost called out to draco but realised quickly that he wasn't home. Not dropping much thought over it, cleaned up the place, freshened up and decided to order food instead of cooking. But 4 days in, harry found himself much more tired and in desperation to just see Draco. The thing was harry knew why draco was staying an entire week at school, he knew his husband very well, he would never leave any pending work but just the realisation that draco needed a break from harry and the house, he found it saddening on a lonely night.

" so what'd he say last before he left ?" Ron asked as they chatting up about their Harry's current problems with marriage over brunch away from work for sometime

" something about him earning not significantly less than me and how I'm irresponsible and creating problems. I'm just tired Ron, lately all we do is fight. You wouldn't believe, just last week we were fighting about changing a wallpaper and you'd expect that it got resolved but it didn't. We didn't talk and that was it. It just- I don't know- like the whole marriage thing really work out for us " harry replied sadly

Ron looked at harry understandingly.." I understand you harry but I don't think he's entirely wrong-"

" so you also think I'm irresponsible-"

" Merlin, don't get your knickers in twist. All I'm saying maybe he isn't wrong. You've fought with me quite often too lately but we're friends harry, but it's different with him, he's your husband. He needs you and you can't possibly deny that you've been nice to people lately. When was the last time you bought Hermione flowers or told her she looked not a today older than she is or the last time you called Ginny about her games or take neville, when did you even call him last to see how he's doing ? The thing is Harry you've been so work involved that you've barely acknowledged the people around you. Remember 2 months after you got married and you told me marrying draco was the best thing you did, what happened to that ?"

Harry's face drew upset, knowing that Ron was in fact right. He'd been so into himself that he had barely made time for the rest of them " I don't know Ron. I just feel like maybe it's all getting out of hands. Like my plates full maybe-"

" like you need a break?"

Harry nodded.

" look Hermione and me have known you the longest and she haven't seen you in so long but she knows somethings up. We know you harry, we understand how you get when you're stressed or angry even but this, this isn't who you are. After everything you've been through and go through each day we understand you but to me you'll always be the harry potter who broke his glasses like a million times in school yet refused to buy new one's because you liked them or the harry potter who hung me by my feet or the harry potter who'd die than leave his friends " ron gave harry the most perfect smile for the situation.

Harry sighed " what am I doing wrong Ron ?"

" you've forgotten who you are and a little maybe the people around you or you're probably letting something eat you alive.. whatever it is harry, do something about it or it'll be too late to fix things" and by that harry knew he meant draco.

Harry nodded at Ron, thinking about what he'd do next to remind his husband, that he is still his lover.

When it came to Saturday night, almost a night before draco would come back, harry firmly sat back on the couch looking at the empty spot besides him with his favourite television show running in the back, yet all he could think was about the memories with draco, the times he made him laugh and now harry didn't even remember in the last one year they've been married the last time harry made his husband laugh. Harry switched off the tv, sighing, getting up from the couch and going into the storage room. He cleared the dust, blowing some away, then turning on a little lamp around the corner. Following his instincts, harry went deeper into the pit of storage and found his things back from the school days. Falling into nostalgia, harry took his school thing's, a few things after that and album's he had gotten made and went back to living room and set everything on the ground.

Memories probably never leave you yet sometimes you need to be reminded of who you are to become who you want to be and that's exactly what harry was doing, figuring out when he became the person he is Today. He went through things after things he had from school, his defense against dark arts books, the model of something science related he made for muggle studies and the albums. Pictures after pictures with people he loved, he found himself drowning into it. It had been so long since the last time he contacted any of them and it saddened him. This isn't who he is, yet somehow this is exactly who he is. As sadness started to fill into his lungs, he finally opened the last box he had retrieve and opened it to find things related to draco. They started going out late in 8 th year and going through a lot of post-war things, Harry had maintained a diary in a muggle way to vent out but most of the end of the diary was filled with how draco looked so good under the moon or how draco was mindlessly biting the top of pencils or biting his lip during class or how his dates went.

Without glancing up harry said " don't leave me "

" how did you know I came ? " Draco asked as he stepped into the living room and sat down next to harry

" you're my soulmate draco, I can sense whenever you're around me "

" you can ?" Draco frowned, not believing harry could still do it.

" just because I've became this huge asshole doesn't mean I've stopped loving you draco "

" it doesn't hurt to remind every once in a while "

Harry looked up finally to see an upset draco sitting next to him with a sad smile " I do tell you I love you "

" when was the last time you said that to me?" Draco asked smiling lightly

Harry frowned lightly, confused but immediately realised he hadn't spoken the words out in almost 5 months " fuck- I'm sorry- shit"

" yeah " draco signed looking down at the things harry was going through " what's all this ?"

" this- school stuff. And this is a box specifically about you " harry pushed the box a little box towards draco

" I own an entire separate box ?" Draco chuckled

" you own an entire different separate place in my life too and I think me becoming an asshole forgot that " harry replied sadly. Draco looked at harry sympathetically before pulling him forward towards him and wrapping his arms around Harry's torso..

" that's all I wanted to hear " draco's voice broke. Harry leaned in further, his head pressed against draco's chest, small tears escaping his eyes and wetting draco's shirt.

" I'm sorry. I never meant to be this problematic and with the whole fighting things. I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you but I just, I'm such an asshole" harry rambled

" you're not an asshole harry. Hey look at me- you are a brilliant man who sometimes needs a break. I haven't been less of an ass to you myself but everyone have a rough patch in marriage and we will get past this too. We're special harry, remember. We're Always special " draco smiled holding Harry's face in his hands

" I don't want to be this person. I just want to be yours and I don't want to fight you, I don't want to yell at you or you to yell at me and i don't want you ever leaving me alone.. I can't- I don't want to be without you draco, I don't know how to be. I've been so selfish that forgot to tell you how much I love you for 5 months, I don't ever want that again. I want to tell you everyday how much I love you. I don't want all these fights, I hate it without you. It doesn't feel like home without you draco, you're my home and with you gone, nothing makes sense, not even me " harry sobbed.

Draco eyes welled up with tears " I don't want all this too harry. I want to be entirely yours and yours forever. I Always Want you to be my home. Fuck I love you- I've missed you so much "

" I missed you too. I love you draco, I love you so so so much, I love you "

" I know you do " draco smiled. He softly kissed the top of Harry's head, then his cheeks, his eyes, his forehead and finally his lips.

" don't ever leave me, ever "

" never " Draco sobbed, their foreheads touching each other, taking in deep breaths with tears running down their faces like a small river.

It was sometime later when they started going through Harry's thing's together with harry cuddled into draco.

" what's this ?" Draco asked as he picked out a small dry petal

" oh, this was from the restaurant I proposed in "

" and this ?"

" this is- I think the handkerchief you left the night we first kissed "

" oh, nice, what this ?"

" I think that's the note I wrote to you to ask you out for first date but never sent it "

" real smooth harry " draco chuckled. Harry rolled his eyes, playfully hitting draco over his chest before picking up and showing him thing's again.

" you still have that paper boat from our first date ?" Draco asked softly gazing at harry

" well- I still think it's the most perfect boat ever made " harry smiled at draco before pressing a small kiss over his lip.

It was harry who Always imagined that, that perfect little boat was the reasons for everything they have right now, but draco never needed to know that, after all he was his special man and he made him the happiest man in the whole world even if sometimes the boat drowned a bit..

Requests open

Day 36- angel | Day 38- set it up, break it up

35 notes · View notes

keanureevesisbae · 4 years

Text

Caught in a Blizzard - Part 4

Summary: Chris travels back to NYC to be with Luna.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Luna Hwang (Asian OFC)

Warnings: Mentions of sex

Wordcount: 2.5k

A/N: Did 5 months pass when I last updated this story? Yes, it sure has. Do I have an epilogue planned after this? Yes, I do. Will I post that very soon (and not in five months)? Yes, i will. I’m really sorry for the wait, but thank you for your patience 🥰

Masterlist // Caught in a Blizzard Masterlist // Part 3 //

Chris Evans had been single for so long now and he thoroughly enjoyed it. Sure he had dreams about settling down with someone, but for now, he felt as if being single was for him the best option.

But then Luna Hwang swooped into his life and (whether it was intentionally or unintentionally) turned his whole life upside down. He figured that meeting her would be fun, but not as life changing as this. He knew all about her, sure, and about her new album and no, he didn’t lie on the Graham Norton Show: he did buy it immediately. He was also fully aware she used to be in Brave Elegance and that performance at the Golden Globes, is engraved in his brain and he thinks about it often.

Luna started that performance with a dance solo and he kept thinking about the way her body moved in that purple skirt and white crop top. Though she was in a group, she was the woman that demanded every single bit of attention you had.

But then she went solo and all eyes were on her. Her single “Inside” came out, he caught himself watching that music video over and over again. While he was a mature adult, he still turned into a giddy teenager when he watched that video. He doesn’t know when the last time was he had a celebrity crush… The sexy and edgy concept of her solo stuff, it was a vibe that matches with her.

It just clicked.

Chris nearly was in a state of shock when he listened to all the songs on her album. Her sexy voice made everything a billion times better. In Brave Elegance, Luna was known for a deep and raspy voice. Her singing voice has an even deeper tone, almost as if dark chocolate had a voice.

And that Luna, that confident woman was the same Luna Chris was falling for. Though those three days were filled with sex and other bed room activities, he also got to know her on a deeper level. He got to know about her struggles, her life pre Brave Elegance, her life in Brave Elegance and her life post Brave Elegance. Her being a foster child was something that he knew, but he didn’t know that she went to sixteen different families. That must’ve been tough for a young girl like her. He never thought about not having a family of his own, mostly because he went to school with other privileged kids with families.

After these days, it made him realize he doesn’t want to spend apart from her again. After she shared about her fears, how she felt like it was her fault Brave Elegance broke up and what the public will think of her, all he wanted to do was to stay with her forever. Not going back to LA. Just wanted to get to know her a bit better. He knew he was falling for her way too hard, but after spending more than seventy two hours with her, he knew she was simply the one he wanted.

And now this happens. These pictures got leaked and he saw the shit that was already poured over her. People say all those things about her, but not about him and that makes him furious.

Maybe she does need to write another diss track.

He stares at the pictures they made, not the paparazzi—he looked at those enough. He looks at her smile and her beautiful eyes, the tattoos on her arms. Her soft cheek against his, her lips against his temple and her eyebrows full of expressions, almost like they are living a life of their own. Chris never felt like this before, but the attraction between them, it is unparalleled in comparison to what he and any other woman he dated ever shared. He thinks about her, about kissing her, watching her fall apart underneath him. She is such a wonderful woman, in all she does.

The way she would curl up against him as they went to sleep. The way she would sit on his lap as they were eating. The way she would run her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp with her nails as they were watching a movie together.

Three days were filled with domestic relationship kinds of things. The things couples do. Established couples. The things he would see his friends do with their girlfriends.

As they sat on the couch, he couldn’t help but look at her. She is so beautiful, so precious and he hoped that this blizzard would go on for infinite time. Three days was all he got, but he wants that to last.

Though it’s not ideal, he can’t wait for them to be reunited again. When he heard her on the phone, his cracks appeared in his heart and every sob he heard, made another shard fall off..

His flight is almost going to board and he types a quick message for her.

Chris: I’m at your place in a few hours. Just hang in there, okay?

Luna: I’ll try.

Chris: Beautiful, it’ll all be okay. I guarantee.

✘ ✘ ✘

Chris can’t seem to agree with the statement his agent and Luna’s agent made. The words “legal action”, “invasion of privacy” and “consensual sex between to adults” are phrases he doesn’t want to see together, especially not when his name and Luna’s are in that same paragraph.

Chris has been on a plane non stop and he looks and feels like absolute shit. Despite all that and his fatigue, he rushes up to the sixteenth floor of Luna’s apartment building and knocks on her door.

When Luna opens the door, his heart breaks even more than it’s already been doing. Her eyes are swollen and red, her cheeks are flushed and she looks so tired. Chris drops his bag and suitcase on the floor and he whispers: ‘Come here.’ He engulfs her petite frame in his arms for a tight hug. She buries her face in the nape of his neck, before she lets out a cry.

‘I’m here, Luna, I’m here for you.’

Her breathing starts to become rapid, way too fast. Her fists clutch his shirt and he feels her tense up in his embrace. ‘Oh no, sweetheart,’ he says in a soft voice, holding her upper arms. ‘Careful now. Breath with me.’ He takes a deep breath and watches her trying to copy it, but it comes out shake and way too short. He recognizes it right away. ‘Focus on me,’ he tells her. He places her tiny hands on his chest, hoping that when she can feel him breathing, it makes it easier for her to copy. ‘Good girl,’ he whispers as her breathing is normalized. He presses a long kiss on her forehead. ‘Don’t you worry, we’ll get through this.’

‘That sounds like we’re a couple.’

‘Well,’ he says, ‘we’re in this mess together, you and I, so we have to figure this out together.’ He walks inside the apartment and he sees four pairs of eyes staring at him. He wraps his arm around Luna’s shoulders, before he introduces himself to her band members. He was already shocked to find out that they were all there, but that means they might’ve reconciled, right? They all have a loving smile as they look at Luna, almost as if their fall out never happened.

‘Okay, mister Captain America,’ Rosie says with a smile, ‘how about you and Luna go catch up a bit. We’ll take care of the rest.’

He nods, thankful that the members of Brave Elegance are giving them the privacy they need and want, before he pulls Luna with him, so the two of them can sit on the couch. ‘Tell me, sweetheart, what’s on your mind now. Don’t worry, you can tell me everything.’

‘I ruined your career,’ she tell him, her voice cracking mid sentence. ‘Like, you are you, a wonderful actor with a heart of gold and I am me, a singer who sings about sex and broke up her band. I’m a joke.’

He can’t believe she thinks that. ‘You are not a joke, sweetheart,’ he whispers., as he tangles his fingers through her hair, soothingly massaging her scalp. ‘And how on earth do you think you have ruined my career? What happened between us, Luna, you need two people for that. I’m an adult, you’re an adult and some pervert took pictures while we did what tons of people do.’

‘Chris,’ she whispers, but more than that doesn’t leave her lips. She starts to cry again and he pulls her on her lap. She curls up against his broad frame, while she shakes as the sobs leave her lips.

‘Remember,’ he whispers in her ear, hoping for her to calm down a bit, ‘that you are not a joke and you’ll never be one.’

‘How are you so sure?’

‘Because I’ve gotten to know you,’ he says. ‘You are kind, you are smart and you are a total bad ass for singing about certain topics. You’re quite the pioneer.’

She rolls her eyes, as she scoffs. ‘Shut up.’

‘I’m not and I never will,’ Chris says. ‘Come here.’ He carefully pulls her into a kiss, not wanting to scare her away, however, she instantly melts against his lips. ‘That this happened,’ he mumbles, ‘doesn’t change a thing how I feel about you.’

‘I’m so sorry to interrupt,’ Pixie says.

‘Don’t lie, you are totally not sorry,’ Faith says.

He looks up to see all the four other bandmates together. Luna places her temple against his and wraps her arms tightly around his shoulder.

‘What I wanted to say,’ Pixie continues, ‘was that maybe you guys shouldn’t release a statement after all.’

‘What?’ Chris and Luna ask in unison. ‘Why not?’

‘Maybe you should just let them talk, pretend like it didn’t happen.’ Pixie continues.

Luna rolls her eyes again. ‘But it did happen, Pixie,’ she scoffs. ‘People won’t just forget.’

‘I know,’ she says, ‘but what do you want them to know? You two had sex and bad paparazzi for making pictures? Your privacy was invaded?’ She shakes her head. ‘Maybe you two need to just ignore this all.’

Rosie nods. ‘And maybe you should write a killer diss track. You’re good at that.’

Daliah smiles. ‘Maybe as a big fuck you you two should post a picture together on both of your Instagrams.’

‘This is unbelievable,’ Luna chuckles and he is happy that she can laugh again. That she is still able to chuckle, to be cheerful. ‘What you are basically saying is that Chris and I, in the midst of a scandal that could possibly ruin both of our careers, should show the world pictures of us together. Oh you know what, we’ll go out on a date right now.’

Daliah nods with a giddy expression. ‘Remember what you did when the news of Rosie and Justin got out?’

Luna nods. ‘Yes, I do.’

Pixie notices the empty look in Chris’ eyes and fills in for him: ‘She forced us all to go out, sit in a cafe and when the paparazzi showed up, she told them what happened. Blaming it all on Justin.’

Faith crosses her arms. ‘In other words,’ she says, ‘why the fuck should you hide, when you can show the entire fucking world that you are the baddest bitch in town? I don’t understand what you two have, I really don’t, but this looks like it could work.’

Luna looks over at him, wrapping her arm around his shoulder. ‘Well, Chris Evans, are you ready for a date?’

✘ ✘ ✘

Luna’s hand is securely engulfed in his and he holds it so tightly, it almost seems as if he is afraid of losing her. They are out and about for coffee, sitting in a secluded booth, but he notices people taking pictures of them and they are not being subtle. He is used to people taking pictures, but this is next level rude and invasive.

However, Chris is able to ignore it, since he only has eyes for Luna. They sit next to each other, his thumb slowly and softly caressing her fingers.

‘I see you made up with your band members,’ he says, taking a sip of his cappuccino.

Luna nods, as her smile reappears on her face. ‘Yeah, we did.’

‘Well, I told you there were going to be other band members, but turns out it were the old and familiar ones all along.’

She nods again. ‘Chris, I want to thank you.’

‘For what, sweetheart?’

‘For coming back. I mean, I love that my members are here again, but you were right. We should go through this together, almost like a couple.’ She starts to chuckle. ‘And I think I need to write a diss track to TMZ, don’t you think’

Chris cannot hide the smile on his face, because he is just too happy with her. ‘Well Luna, how about we spice things up a bit and make a whole music video together?’

She starts to chuckle. ‘Chris, are you serious?’

‘Of course I’m serious. I have a good feeling about you, about us and I’m not going to throw that away. Besides, we should just put it out there.’

‘We totally should.’ Luna leans over to him, as she kisses him on his bearded cheek. ‘Despite being severely jet-lagged, you look really handsome, Chris,’ she whispers, placing her hand on his thigh. It slowly slides down to his inner thigh, giving the muscles a good squeeze. ‘You drive me crazy.’

‘If you continue to do this,’ he whispers, his voice dropping a few tones, ‘you’re going to be in big trouble.’

She cocks an eyebrow. ‘You honestly think that that is going to stop me?’ She places a kiss on his lips. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’

He quickly gulps down the last sip of his coffee, before they walk back outside and he wraps his arm around my shoulders. However, the paparazzo cannot be missed and Chris clears his throat. ‘Brace yourself, sweetheart,’ Chris says to hear, but he also tells himself this, because he is pretty nervous.

‘Chris, Luna, do you have anything to say about the pictures?’ the man asks, nearly shoving his camera into their faces.

‘Yeah,’ Luna mumbles, ‘this.’ She holds up her middle finger into the camera. ‘Leave us the fuck alone, will you?’

Chris can’t help but laugh and feel proud of the beautiful woman who has her arm wrapped around his waist, her body pressed closely against his. The man continues to bombard them with question. Whether or not they’ll take legal action of the photo’s are continued to be spread, if they’d known each other before the Graham Norton show and whether or not the two of them are dating.

‘Well,’ Chris says, ‘if you let us finish our first date now, you might know it in the future.’

✘ ✘ ✘

One month later

#chris evans #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x original female character #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x luna hwang #chris evans x luna #chris evans x asian ofc #asian ofc #Luna Hwang #caught in a blizzard

59 notes · View notes

lightlia · 4 years

Text

And it breaks my heart

Pairing: Dream x reader (irl!Dream x reader) [They/Them] [mentioning Wilbur a bit]

Synopsis: What has gone wrong? Is it the fact that they are pretending to be happy or they’re never meant to be?

Inspired by: LÉON - And It Breaks My Heart [stream LÉON music!!]

Words count: 2.6k

[ANGST]

A/N: My first fic on this site, yay! Hope you like it! It could be cringing but bare with me, uwu! Feedbacks are accepted so if you have sth to say, pls do so. I literally didn’t save the damn thing and I had to type it all out again. Fuck me. I didn’t proofread it cuz i’m lazy and tired so enjoy reading this.

♪ Think of days when I was yours

Seems so long ago ♪

Y/N moved in their last stuff into their new home after successfully putting everything in their new place. They looked around the living room before sitting down on the floor. Holding in their am was a box with stuff that they were going to decorate. As they opened the box, it wasn’t the stuff that they would decorate with but a photo album, a sweater and a necklace in it. They held back their tears as they took out the sweater and the necklace and wore them. The sweater wasn’t theirs but it was Clay’s.

“Babe, have you seen my sweater? I can’t find it anywhere.” Clay shouted from their wardrobe, opening each drawer to find his sweater.

Y/N skipped towards their room, “Which sweater? You have like so many sweater.”

“The one with dinosaurs on it. The green--” Clay then turned around to see Y/N was wearing what he described. “--sweater.”

Y/N looked at Clay then down at their clothing. “This one?”

Clay then walked towards them with a grin on his face. “Well, never mind. I’ll find another one to wear. And by the way, you look cute in it. So keep it.”

Y/N was flustered and hid their face in the sweater. Clay wrapped his arms around them and his chin was on their head. “But it would look even better when it’s on the floor along with my clothes.” He smirked, causing Y/N’s cheeks to go red.

Y/N hit Clay hard with their sweater paws but to him, those hits were like patting. Clay then remembered something and jogged to their bedside drawer and took out a box. He took the necklace out and went back to Y/N. Clay went behind them and put it on for them.

“I saw it when I was out strolling with Nick. He said to pick the one with ‘Daddy’ on it but I’ll buy next time if you want.”

Y/N tiptoed to give Clay a kiss since the man is 6′3. “Thank you, Clay. I love it.”

♪ Now we're standing in the cold

Nervous when we talk ♪

“Goddamn it! I forgot to bring my umbrella.” Y/N cursed under their breath. They decided to walk through the park but the rain ruined it. They looked up to the sky who decided to rain on the day that they wanted to be away from the loud noises and they wanted peace and quiet before they went back to their workplace tomorrow.

“Should’ve had a roommate so they could pick me up when I call them.” Y/N took shelter under a big tree. Their clothes weren’t helping them shield their head and they were soaking wet from the immediate rain. They hung their head down and kicked the dirt beneath them, cursing the rain.

Then something shielded them from the rain, making them look up to see Clay with his umbrella out over your head. He got wet a bit now that the umbrella was above them.

“Hey.” Clay opened his mouth.

“Hi.”

Then silence surrounded them both. Y/N shifted around awkwardly to ease the silence around them.

"How are you?”

“I’m doing great. How about you? Find someone better yet?” Y/N asked back.

♪ Such a sadness in your eyes

And now you're looking down

You try your hardest not to show it

Yeah, I can't hold you, give you hope

'Cause I'm not coming home ♪

Clay then casted his eyes down but Y/N caught the look on his face, sadness. Y/N immediately apologized, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you that.”

“No, no. It’s fine.” He gave a fake smile to Y/N. “I couldn’t find one and I don’t need one.” He wanted to hug Y/N and asked them to rekindle their relationship but he couldn’t.

“So you’ve been single now for 2 years?”

“Yea. Do you like someone at the moment?”

“Yea, I found someone I like.” Y/N gave him a smile. “But I don’t want to tell him though.”

“Oh.”

Clay thought immediately of Wilbur. His initial thought was about Wilbur, probably Y/N liked Wilbur. Of course, they would like him. He was there for them, not physically. But Wilbur would call them to see if they were okay. Wilbur would also talk about Y/N a lot while he was streaming with Clay and others and told them that Y/N doing fine now, getting the job that they wanted and was in search for a new place to live other than her friends’. Y/N didn’t want to bother them so that’s why Y/N searched for a new place.

But what Clay didn’t know was that it was a lie. They couldn’t tell him that they still need him a bit. However, they moved on because they knew they weren’t meant to be.

“Let me take you home.” Clay offered and walked out the park with Y/N under his umbrella.

♪ And I wish that I could give you more

When you're leaving me an open door ♪

Clay had been neglecting Y/N a lot lately. They knew about his streaming career and they were very supportive of him. But lately, he had been neglecting Y/N and his food because of his streaming and uploading a YouTube video. Y/N would bring the food up to his office just for him to yell at them for entering his office. He would start missing out on their date nights and the most important ones, the anniversary. He would forget about them and go and hang out with someone Y/N didn’t know. While Clay was having fun with his new friend, Y/N was lying on their bed and crying to sleep. When he was given free times, Clay would be on his phone, typing something. Y/N would peek to see what he was texting but Clay would get up and go to his office, feeling annoyed at their behavior. Clay was never like this so what made him to be like this?

Then one day, Y/N walked past his office to overhear his conversation with George.

“No, George. You don’t understand. Y/N was never like this. Now they’re annoying. They would ask me whenever I got home like where I went and who I was with. They even brought up Olivia and I told them every time that she’s just a friend but they wouldn’t believe me.”

Feeling annoyed, Clay pushed his hair back and getting frustrated every time he mentioned Y/N.

“Yes, we are happy, George. No. George, you don’t understand. Yes, I know. I’ll talk to them whatever.”

This pushed Y/N to the limit. They tiptoed to the bathroom and just silently cried.

♪ And I wish that I could let you know

How it hurts me, too, that we're moving on ♪

Clay and Y/N walked down a couple blocks then turned the corner, arriving at Y/N’s place. Just as they had arrived, the rain stopped.

“So this is my stop. Thank you for walking me home, Clay.” Y/N smiled and he nodded. “Oh and the rain stopped as well. How convenient.” They looked up to the sky and laughed, making Clay laughed as well.

“No problem. Don’t want you to get sick after all.”

“Nah, I think I’m gonna get sick cuz I’m soaking wet.” Y/N pointed to Clay. “You’ll get sick too.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Y/N unlocked the door and got in. They were about to invite Clay inside but he held his hand up.

“It’s fine. I need to get back or Nick’s gonna starve.” Then Clay’s phone went off with someone calling him. He pulled out his phone from his inside of his jacket and he laughed. Clay answered and turned on the loudspeaker.

“Yea?”

“Clay, where are you? I’m starving like I’m gonna die.” Nick shouted into the phone and they giggled at his antics.

“I’ll be there in about 15 minutes.”

“Clay, you’ve been out for about 2 hours and I’m literally gonna--” Just that, Clay cut off Nick’s nagging and hung up the phone.

“He’ll be furious.” Y/N giggled.

“He’ll be fine. He’s just being too dramatic. I’ve lost a challenge against him and I had to buy his favorite.”

He held up the food package for Y/N to see.

“You’d better get home quick before he call you again.” Then Clay’s phone rang and they both knew it was definitely from Nick. They laughed once more.

“Alright, I’ll get going then.” Clay said and turned around but stopped to say the last thing. “It was great seeing you again.”

“You too, Clay.” Y/N waved their hand and Clay did the same thing, walking off to the distance.

Y/N watched Clay walking off until he was no longer in their sight. They closed the door and sat down at the door, not worrying about the dirty floor. Clay seemed like he had moved on and got a hold of himself. He was not taking well about the break up at first. So they were happy for Clay that he moved on but they were hurting themselves that they had moved on as well because Clay was everything to them.

♪ Oh, where do love go?

It's right in your hands, then suddenly gone

Oh, no, nobody knows where it disappears

And it breaks my heart ♪

Clay and Y/N sat at their dining table, eating peacefully before Y/N decided to break the silence.

“Clay, we’re not meant to be.”

“What?” Clay furrowed his brows and moved his hand to place on top of their hand. Y/N shook his hand off and continued talking.

“We’re gotta stop pretending we’re happy when actually we’re not.”

“Baby, what are you talking about?”

“Clay, don’t pretend that you don’t know what I’m talking about. We both know our relationship is dying.”

“Y/N, I don’t understand.” Clay grabbed Y/N’s hand, caressing it.

“You neglected me, you forgot about our date nights and our anniversary just to hang out with Olivia.”

“Baby, I told you many times that we’re just friends.”

As calmly as they could portray, Y/N shook their head and pulled out their phone and slid it to Clay, showing him all the messages Olivia had been texting them.

“No, we’re just friends.” Clay shook his head this time.

“Well, have fun with her. I’ll move out tomorrow. You don’t have to send me off since I’m gonna annoy you.” Y/N got up and walked towards the door.

“Baby.”

“You said I’m annoying so I hope me not being here would no longer make you feel annoyed.” And then they walked out the door to find their friend parked their car outside, waiting for them.

Clay on the other hand, was shocked from the event. He didn’t finish his meal as he hurried to his office and dialed George’s number.

♪ Empty station, 2 AM

See your name on the phone

Sayin', "So good to see you, but it made me really miss you

It's hard to be alone" ♪

Y/N got off the train at 2 am after a night out with their friends at the newly opened bar. The station was empty and quiet, enough for Y/N to concentrate. They were sober as they found an empty seat and sat there, remembering that they had seen Clay at the bar.

Their phone lit up with a notification. Clay’s name was shown on their screen, showing that he has texted them. Y/N opened the text, reading ‘So good to see you, but it made me really miss you. It's hard to be alone.’

Y/N teared up and started to type back. They were about to send long sentences to him but decided against it and just sent ‘It was great seeing you again.’

♪ And if I only could, I'd go back in time

Take back every word, say I've changed my mind

But no, nobody knows where it disappears

(And it breaks my heart) ♪

Clay was there as well with his friends because they didn’t want their friend to be sad anymore. They had seen him sad for the last 4 months after the broke up so they dragged Clay out for a night out. Clay downed all shots into his system and got a bit drunk but he was conscious about his surrounding so when he turned around to look at other people, his eyes saw their figure a couple table from him. He couldn’t avert his focus elsewhere.

Y/N after downed the shots into their system, looked around the table to see Clay looking at them. They too couldn’t tear their eyes away from Clay before hanging their head down.

Clay wanted to go to their table and just talked to them once again but he knew he would mess up again so he just sat at the table and downed some more shots.

Y/N wanted to talk as well and maybe take back their words and want Clay back into their arms but they didn’t want it to happen again because they had gotten back together before, they had sworn that they would never hurt each other feelings anymore and if they break up again, they would let it go for real.

♪ And you want answers, but I don't have them

Say we were happy, so what happened?

Now you're acting like it's nothing, but it was something

You can't erase me, all the memories, you can't change them ♪

Y/N went back to Clay’s house to get their stuff out. They still got the key of his house and unlocked it. They opened the door and stepped inside. They walked to the stairway and turned to the living room to find Clay sprawling on the couch with booze on the table and their pictures scattered around the living room. He was asleep so Y/N took the opportunity and ran up to their room and organized their stuff.

As they finished packing the last box, a cough blurted out. Y/N didn’t have to turn around to see Clay standing by the door.

“Y/N, I don’t understand. We were so happy together. What went wrong?” Clay uttered.

“I don’t have the answer for that. You can find it yourself.”

“No, tell me. Why is this happening? I want to know why.”

Y/N sighed before getting up and walking out the door. But Clay grabbed their arm, preventing them from leaving the room.

“Let go, Clay.”

“Y/N, tell me.”

“I can’t tell because I don’t have the answer. Now if you excuse me.” Y/N tried to wiggle their arm out of his grip.

“Y/N!”

“Clay, we’re done.”

“WE ARE NOT!”

“Clay, we fell out of love. You just didn’t realize that yourself. Thanks for the memories, Clay. I don’t think I can’t erase them out of my head and I hope you won’t erase our memories or change anything.” With that, Y/N freed their arm from his grip and walked out their shared bedroom.

Clay dropped to the floor and let his tears flow down. Y/N could hear him sobbing from downstairs and left the house with their stuff.

♪ Oh, where do love go?

It's right in your hands, then suddenly gone

Oh, no, nobody knows where it disappears

And if I only could, I'd go back in time

Take back every word, say I've changed my mind

But no, nobody knows where it disappears

And it breaks my heart ♪

Even though they wanted to get back together.

♪ (But I don't have them)

(And it breaks my heart)

(Say we were happy)

(So what happened?)

(And you want answers)

(But I don't have them)

(Say we were happy)

(So what happened?) ♪

They both knew they weren’t meant to be together.

#dream #dream x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #dreamwastaken #dream x y/n #mcyt #my first fic #yoooo #i'm seriously so tired

42 notes · View notes

starlit-serenade · 4 years

Text

ONEUS Reacting to Someone Hitting on Their S/O

Summary: How would ONEUS react to someone hitting on you when you are out in public together?

Word Count: 2,654 words

Pairing: Reader x Members / Characters: GenderNeutral!Reader; Kim Youngjo (Ravn); Lee Seoho (Seoho); Kim Geonhak (Leedo); Lee Keonhee (Keonhee); Yeo Hwanwoong (Hwanwoong); Son Dongju (Xion);

Rated: E / Warnings: Jealousy / Genre: GenderNeutral!Reader; Fluff;

《 ONEUS Masterlist 》

Kim Youngjo (Ravn)

Youngjo would obviously trust his S/O with anything and everything. But seeing or hearing someone hitting on you would make his blood boil. He would get so aggressive, but not physically. He would want to intimidate the other person and scare them off. Or maybe he'd just start being very affectionate toward you in front of them.

You make eye contact with Youngjo across the CD shelf, and he smiles softly at you. You've come to look at CDs with Youngjo on both of you guys' day off.

"Look, I found one that reminds me of you!" you say, holding up a CD on your side of the shelf. It has a colorful album art with a black cat drawn on.

Youngjo smiles brightly. "Cute. Let me find one that reminds me of you."

He moves to a spot further down the CD shelf, searching for another CD.

After you continue seeking through the CDs for a couple minutes, someone reaches past you and grabs a CD right in front of you. They stumble and almost fall over, but they stop themself with their hand on the shelf on the other side of your body. They bump you a bit, and you hell as your stomach hits the edge of the shelf.

"Sorry," the person says, placing their hand on your shoulder in apology.

"No worries." You smile politely as you rub your stomach, and you can see Youngjo is watching you from a distance.

Are you okay? he mouths at you. You nod gently. You're fine.

"Hey," the person says, clearly checking you outaa. "How about, as an apology, I take you out to coffee?"

You shake your head. "I'm sorry, I'm not interested."

"No, really, I insist!" the person says.

You open your mouth to speak when you suddenly feel a hand snake around your waist. Youngjo is standing right next to you, holding you to him. When you look at Youngjo, he's smiling down at you softly.

"Hi," Youngjo says to the person. "I'm Y/N's boyfriend. Can you please respect when they say no?" His words are respectful, but his voice is very aggressive.

The person swallows. "Sorry. I didn't realize you had a boyfriend. Sorry, sir. I'll get going."

The person leaves immediately, vanishing around the corner, and Youngjo nudges you gently.

"I found you a CD," he says, grinning as he holds up a disk. You smile and kiss his cheek.

"Love you, Youngjo," you say.

Lee Seoho (Seoho)

Seoho would be so very upset. He would definitely be very possessive, and might try to be a bit intimidating, but you would know exactly how frustrated he was feeling and would undoubtedly have to comfort him afterward.

Seoho smiles as you both walk through the park together, cold drinks in hand. It's the first sunny day in a while, so Seoho wanted to take you outside.

"My legs are a bit tired," you mumble, almost to yourself.

"Do you want to sit for a second?" Seoho asks, gesturing to a bench nearby. You nod, and the two of you sit on the park bench.

"It's hot out," you comment. The past few days have been rather chilly and cloudy, and so today you were pleasantly surprised to find it was warm.

"Yeah." Seoho nods in agreement. He looks at his drink. "I'm finished. I'm going to go throw my cup away, I'll be back, okay?"

You nod. "Alright!"

Seoho gets up from the bench and walks away, waving sweetly at you before turning to search for a bin.

After a minute of waiting alone on the bench, someone sits down on the other side of the bench. You glance over, and it's a man around Seoho's age.

"Hey," the man says. You blink and nod politely.

"Hello," you say.

"Nice day out, huh?"

"Mhm." You nod awkwardly in agreement. You can feel the man's eyes on you, waiting for more of an answer. "It's very warm out."

"It really is." There's a pause, and you look over at the man. He's definitely checking you out, and you shift in your seat uncomfortably. "Can I buy you a cold drink?" he asks.

For a second, you're shocked. Almost speechless, you search for the words.

"Oh, sorry, I have a boyfriend," you say. You glance around, looking for Seoho, but he isn't anywhere in sight. You know you can deal with the situation on your own, but having your boyfriend with you would be a big help.

"Oh, I'm sure it wouldn't be too much of a problem if I just bought you a cold drink," the man says.

Yes, it would be.

You shake your head. "That's kind of you, but--"

"Actually, it is a bit of a problem."

You turn around and see Seoho standing beside you. You can see from the way that his fist tightens, his jaw thenches, that he is very unhappy.

"Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to offend you," the man says. "I just thought they might be able to have a friendly cup of coffee."

"As their boyfriend, no you may not," Seoho says. He reaches for your hand which you enthusiastically give him. "Let's go somewhere?" he asks you. You nod and let Seoho lead you away, barely sparing a glance at the man left on the bench.

Kim Geonhak (Leedo)

Geonhak, upon seeing someone hitting on you, would be so frustrated and furious. He would try to be intimidating--probably by lowering his voice much more than necessary--and would possibly be very affectionate and possessive. but you would absolutely be able to tell that he's feeling insecure and frustrated.

You and Geonhak are sitting at a table near the back of the library. You're taking care of some studying you have to do. You sigh and stand up quickly, and Geonhak looks up at you curiously.

"I'm just going to return some books and find some other ones," you say quietly. He smiles and nods.

You take up your books, put them on the return cart, and walk over to the bookshelf where you found your original books. You can still see Geonhak from there. Maybe you'll be able to find just the books you need this time. A man wearing an employee badge is standing next to the bookshelf, placing books into it. As you find a book that looks good, you grab it.

"Oh?" The employee is staring at you. "That's an interesting looking book." He looks up at your eyes and you nod politely.

"Yeah. I need it for my studies."

"Oh?"

You explain the topic to him a bit, since he seems curious.

"Oh, that's cool. Hey, I get done in about an hour. Maybe, perhaps, we could . . . talk more over coffee?"

You blink, taken by surprise. So that's why he's been looking at you like that. "Oh, sorry. But no."

"No? Why?"

"Well, because I have a boyfriend," you say.

"Oh? I'm sure I could take better care of you than he." The man suddenly freezes, and you frown in confusion. Suddenly, you feel someone's arms wrap around you, and you feel a familiar kiss placed on your neck.

"Hi baby," Geonhak says, his voice about an octave deeper than usual. He pulls away and speaks to the man in his deep voice. "Please excuse me. I'm not sure if you heard, but Y/N has a boyfriend."

The man blinks and opens his mouth to say something, but he stops. His face is red with embarrassment. You can tell that Geonhak is giving him an evil glare.

"S-s-sorry," the man says, backing away. "I'll get back to work." He exits the aisle to organize a different shelf.

Geonhak looks at you and kisses your neck again, before nuzzling his face into your neck. You can tell that he's stressed, and run your hand through his hair.

"Let's go sit down," you suggest. Geonhak nods, looking at you like a puppy.

"Okay," he says, smiling softly.

Lee Keonhee (Keonhee)

Keonhee's personality is usually carefree and friendly, so seeing how cold he'd act toward someone would be possibly intimidating to not just them but to you as well. He'd be so possessive, and would definitely want to signal physically to the other person that you're taken, by putting his arm around you or something.

"Wait here, I'll go order our drinks, okay?" Keonhee asks, smiling his sweet smile that makes your heart flutter.

"Mkay."

"The usual?" he asks.

"Mhm!" You smile, and he pecks a quick kiss on your cheek, before heading away from the table to the line to the coffee shop's counter.

You stare down at your phone, scrolling through social media, absentmindedly reading the news as you wait for Keonhee.

"Excuse me, is this chair occupied?"

You look up and see a man with his hand on a chair at your table. You note that it's one of four chairs at your table, and you only need two: one for yourself and one for Keonhee.

"No, you can have it," you say with a nod and a polite smile.

The man pulls out the chair from the table, pauses, and sits down across from you, and you can already tell this isn't going to go well.

"Can I buy you a drink, beautiful?" the man asks. In all honesty, he isn't bring creepy or disrespectful. But you already have a boyfriend and are not interested.

"Oh, uh, sorry," you say. "I, uh, I have a --"

Suddenly, a cup of your favorite drink is placed in front of you. You look up and Keonhee is smiling down at you, his drink in his other hand.

"Hi, angel!" he says, the most pleasant smile on their face. You can tell that he's purposely not paying the man any attention.

"Hi Keonhee!" you say. "Thank you for getting the drinks."

"Of course, lovely!" He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek, and you can see that he shoots a quick glare at the other man, and you quickly tug at Keonhee's sleeve.

"Keonhee, let's head home," you say quietly.

"Sounds good!" he says. "Let's go, my lovely," he says, taking your hand and leading you out of the coffee shop. You don't miss the final glare he gives the man, who is sitting surprised and alone at your table.

Yeo Hwanwoong (Hwanwoong)

Hwanwoong wouldn't try to be intimidating or anything. He'd definitely be possessive, and would show if physically, like his arm around you and neck kisses. He'd act very confidently, even if he wasn't feeling it. But he'd need a lot of comforting.

"Ready to head home?" you ask your boyfriend Hwanwoong. He looks up from where he's sitting on the floor, taking a breath after his practice on the other side of the practice room. A grin spread across his face.

"Sure! I need to gather my things, so how about you head out to the lobby and I'll meet you there, alright?" he says, gesturing to the room. His water bottle is against the wall in the corner farthest away from him. His jacket is in a separate corner.

"Alright, see you in a bit Woongie," you say, pushing yourself to the feet before heading out to the lobby to wait for your boyfriend.

You walk through the hallway and stand outside the elevator, waiting. As the elevator rings and you walk into the elevator, someone walks in behind you.

"Hello," the person says. You nod politely in greeting. You swear you've seen this person before, perhaps the hallway or something.

"Hi," you say. "I've seen you around here often. Are you a trainee?"

"Oh, yes. Yes I am."

You can feel this person's eyes on you, even when you look away. Their gaze is very intense.

"Are you a trainee here?" the trainee asks. You shake your head. Suddenly the elevator shudders, there's a ding, and the doors slide open. You and the trainee step out into the lobby.

"Oh, uh, no." You chuckle a bit. "No, I'm not a trainee."

The trainee raises an eyebrow at you. "Really? I see you around here often enough," they say. "What do you do around here, are you a staff member?"

You shake your head. "Oh, no. I'm not. My boyfriend works here."

The trainee pauses. "Oh? Who's your boyfriend?"

You feel an arm snake around your waist, and for a second you're surprised. But you can recognize your boyfriend from the slightest touch.

"I'm their boyfriend," Hwanwoong says, pecking a kiss to your cheek. The trainee looks absolutely mortified, and you really aren't surprised. A trainee? Trying to hit on Yeo Hwanwoong's significant other?

"Oh," the trainee says. "Well, that's great. I've got places to be. Goodbye."

The trainee quickly rushes away, and Hwanwoong nuzzles his nose against your cheek gently.

"Can we go get something cold to drink?" he asks.

"Of course," you say, running your hands through his hair a bit. "Let's get some bubble tea, how does that sound."

He smiles. "Sounds great."

Son Dongju (Xion)

Dongju would want you and him out of that situation as soon as possible. He'd be very firm and calm, but would not want either of you to engage with the other person. If he had to, he'd be very calm and stern with them, maybe even a little passive aggressive.

You examine the two noodle packages in your hands, debating which one to get for you and Dongju's movie night tonight. Dongju should still be getting veggies.

As you decide and put away the one you've rejected, someone walks past and accidentally bumps shoulders with you, causing you to almost drop the noodles in your hand, but manage to catch them. You do, however, drop the box of popcorn you had under your arm.

"Oh sorry." The man who has just bumped into you stops and picks up the fallen popcorn as you stabilize yourself and your noodles. You smile and nod as he hands you your popcorn.

"Thank you," you say.

"Maybe you should have a basket," the man says.

"Yeah." You laugh a bit and nod, too lazy to tell him that you did in fact have a basket, until Dongju took it with him to the next aisle.

The man doesn't move away. It seems as though he wants to keep the conversation going, but you don't.

You place the noodle package back on the shelf and fix the things in your arms so that they're easier to carry. You are overly aware of the man still standing next to you, watching you.

"Sorry, is there something you need?" you ask him.

"Uh, was just wondering if I could get your number?" the man asks.

You, surprised, find it difficult to find a detailed response, and can barely manage to say, "No, sorry."

"No?" the man chuckles nervous. "Why?"

"Because . . ." You're about to tell him that you already have a boyfriend when suddenly someone behind you clears their throat. You turn your head and see Dongju approaching with the basket in his hand and a concerned look on his face.

"Y/N, did you get noodles? Ah. Let's see if we can find you that candy you like," he says quickly, grabbing your hand and squeezing. He looks at the man, and his eyes narrow a bit. "Sorry to interrupt. I'm Y/N's boyfriend, and we have to get going for our movie night."

Before the man can say a word, Dongju drags you away, out of the aisle and down to the candy aisle. You watch him grumble under his breath as he looks among the candies for your favorite. He's fuming, so you walk over and plant a kiss on his cheek. You can see him smiling dumbly.

"I love you, Son Dongju," you say.

"I love you too," he says softly and shyly.

72 notes · View notes

werejusttouchingeachother · 4 years

Text

PARIS 2017 [September 27th, 2:00PM]

Chapter 2 T/W: none Words:1366

You smiled every time that you recalled it now, the moments of boiling rage back then were now cherished fond memories. The two of you had been first introduced by his manager, an exchange of formal greetings and polite smiles. Although you had initially been confused about the reason as to why an idol was being introduced to you, the manager had discreetly told you about how the gorgeous man with the wide puppy eyes filled with wonder was planning to be the co-creator of his own fashion line.

Baekhyun had sat silently next to you throughout the runway show, eyes keenly scanning all the models from head to toe as they strutted past him. He’d asked a few questions here and there to which you’d courteously replied and cleared his doubts. The conversations hadn’t been unbearably awkward but nevertheless, they were brief and polite.

All had been well until you’d walked up to him at the after-party and caught him talking to his close friend, Chanyeol who had accompanied him to the show.

“They’re tasteless,” he had muttered, sipping on his bubbly champagne. “I don’t know what she was thinking.”

“Why didn’t you ask then?” You’d demanded sharply, watching as Baekhyun’s shoulders immediately tensed at your voice, glass raised halfway to his mouth. Chanyeol choked on his own drink as his eyes finally noticed you standing right behind the shorter member.

Baekhyun turned slowly towards you and Chanyeol watched the two of you face each other, quickly finishing his drink and stuttering an excuse as he practically ran away. If you didn’t know better, you’d have thought that he just rapped.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Baekhyun said in place of an apology, eyes meeting yours with a resignation that said he’d accepted that he’d been caught and wasn’t going to lie about it.

However, you weren’t ready to let it go so easily.

“Too late,” you’d replied, eyes narrowed as you shrugged, masking your fury with an overly-polite tone and an air of nonchalance. “You offended me anyway. If they looked that ridiculous to you, why did you pretend to love them at the show? Or was that just for the cameras?”

He raised an eyebrow questioningly. “I never pretended to love them.”

“So you do hate them then.”

Baekhyun’s eyes were wide with incredulity now as he shook his head in disbelief. “You’re twisting my words, Ms. Y/N. I do not hate them, I just think we have different tastes in fashion. I like streetwear and comfort more and your work is more… out there.”

“It’s Paris Fashion Week,” you gritted out in annoyance, a mental clock ticking in your head to remind you to stay calm. “I can’t bring streetwear and sweatpants to the biggest fashion week of the year. All these clothes have been designed for months, some even years. Specifically for this week, for this walkway.”

“Y/N!” You heard a voice call your name and didn’t turn as you shook your head at Baekhyun, continuing, “I’m not angry that you hated it. I’m angry that you sat beside me for hours at my show and asked me about my designs as if you were genuinely interested in them. I replied to you because I thought you were genuinely interested in them. You shouldn’t have tried so hard and put on such an act if you felt the complete opposite, Mr. Byun.”

You don’t wait for a response as you turn and leave his presence, aware that you shouldn’t cause any kind of scene whatsoever at the after-party but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be bothered, the frustration at the idol eating at you.

You assure that there are no more circumstances at the party where you have to run into each other for the rest of the night, including his manager who gazes at the two of you in confusion when he notices that both of you are at extreme corners from each other all the time. You know that there are chances of the story being twisted into oh-the-hotshot-arrogant-designer-threw-a-childish-tantrum-because-the-adored-idol-called-that-scarf-last-season but you choose to ignore it.

You were furious. And that fury was enough to discourage you from offering any kind of help to Byun Baekhyun.

[September 28th, 9:00AM]

“May I sit here?”

You rolled your eyes as soon as you heard his voice and respond without looking up from your coffee. “I don’t know what you’re thinking but are you sure? Word on the street is that I’m pretty tasteless.”

You hear Baekhyun lowly chuckle as he sits down across from you. “Wow, you really know how to hold a grudge."

Your tone is bitter as you mutter, “As long as you can hold a note.”

He raises his eyebrow in surprise at your words. “You’ve listened to my music?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I listen to the band. Why should the rest suffer because one is two-faced?”

Baekhyun looks like he is about to retort but stops himself. “All right. I’ll sincerely apologise. Let me buy you breakfast.” He glances at the coffee in front of you, frowning when he doesn’t notice a plate.

You wryly state, “It’s complementary.”

“… Right. I can’t do lunch, so dinner?”

“I can’t do either.” You roll your eyes at his attempts in exasperation. “You can’t buy my forgiveness with a meal, Baekhyun.”

“What can I do then?” He gives you a cheeky grin. “Concert tickets? Backstage passes? Signed albums?”

“Are you implying that I can’t afford any of these cause that’s what it sounds like to me and for someone who is trying to apologise, you’re really barking up the wrong tree here. Have you never apologised—?”

“All right, fine.” Baekhyun lowers his fork to the table and looks right at you. “I’ll be honest with you. I didn’t understand anything from the show yesterday. For a fall/winter line, all the outfits were bizarrely coloured and styled. I didn’t like the patterns, I thought they were too floral for a season that’s comparatively dull. My focus for my designs lie in casual clothes and streetwear, and yes, I realise they are extremely different from your kind of stuff and maybe they can’t even be compared but honestly, I’m just confused as to why Hyungnim asked me to learn from you when both our tastes are so... contradictory.”

You leaned back against your chair, arms crossed as you watch him silently. When he raises an eyebrow at your lack of response, you stick the tip of your tongue in the inside of your cheek and take a deep breath in an effort to calm your nerves.

“You haven’t got the slightest clue who I am, do you?” You finally ask, watching as the confusion falls on his face.

You lean forward then and grab his phone from where he’d placed it beside his plate.

“Paris Fashion Week,” you start, holding the screen to his face to unlock it as he blinked in confusion at your antics.

“Like I said yesterday,” you continued, retrieving the phone and pulling up the browser. “It’s not one of the greatest fashion events of all year but it is THE event. Regardless of our own styles and branding, all designers like myself are challenged to take the theme of the year and elevate it to a higher level. What you saw yesterday were my designs for Fashion Week specifically, the most of which you’ll later see on a model or celebrity for some magazine shoot or another fashion event. No one purchases Fashion Week designs to wear on a casual basis, Baekhyun. Now this,” you slide the phone across the table, screen lit up with the familiar colours of the homepage of your store’s website. “This is me.”

You stand up then as he scrolls through the page, scanning the various styles and categories—men, women, formal, leather, outerwear, minimalist and his finger freezes as it finds his favourite: casual.

“I have a show tonight and I’m already behind on my schedule because of this conversation,” you say, although you aren’t sure if he’s even listening to you anymore. Nevertheless, you mutter, “Good luck with your line, Baekhyun. Hope you find someone who’s tasteful.”

60 notes · View notes

ofmallory · 4 years

Text

( tati gabrielle , cis female , she/her, twenty-four ) omg ! i was walking yonge street downtown , and you’ll never guess who i saw . mallory roth ! i just saw a post about them on sixsecrets ! i think it said something like “ still no word on the status of mal roth's next album — but at least twitter stans are posting some hilarious memes about the three - year - long wait ” . isn’t that wild ? i guess it makes sense through , since they’re apparently fickle and self-absorbed . but i’ve heard they’re also ardent and ingenious ! i’ll just stick to giving them the benefit of the doubt . i mean , it’s not like i know them personally — they’re a famous singer / songwriter ! you know , i’ve actually heard rumors that ____ , but they’re just rumors … i think . i dunno . if you happen to run into them , tell them i’m their biggest fan ! ( sam , she/her , 23 , est )

* lorde career claim !

greetings and salutations! i’m sam and i’ve been thinking about this muse for aaaages, but this is my very first time writing her! character info is under the cut and of course, please message me if you would like to plot!

triggers : abandonment, theft, car accident.

STATS

FULL NAME: mallory corine roth ; born mallory im

NICKNAMES: mal, moll, mollie

GENDER + PRONOUNS: cis female + she / her

DOB + AGE: december 31st, 1995 + twenty - four

ZODIAC: capricorn

HOMETOWN: oakland, california

ORIENTATION: panromantic / pansexual

OCCUPATION: singer / songwriter

HISTORY

mallory im was born and raised in oakland, california. her mother was a nineteen - year - old pre law student at uc berkeley and her father was in the midst of his fifteen minutes of fame as a musician with a number one song on the radio. he was in town for a gig which mal’s mother attended, and then just a few weeks later she discovered that she was pregnant. her parents ( mal’s maternal grandparents ) were absolutely furious. they disowned her on the spot, kicking her out of their house and stopping their payments of her college tuition. forced to drop out, she resorted to working several small jobs at once in order to cover doctor visits and the rent for her small, run - down apartment.

much of what mal knows about her early childhood is things that she was told rather than things that she actually remembers. after she was born, her mother resumed her college courses in between her revolving door or minimum wage jobs. her parents were civil with each other. by the time that she was born, her father’s career had completely fallen off and he put most of his earnings into starting a record label ( that wasn’t very successful at first ), but he would still send them some money every once in a while.

mal was three years old when her mother began dating a local businessman. the owner of a luxury car dealership, he was slightly older and a widower with two children of his own, and he and mal’s mom fell absolutely smitten with each other. it wasn’t long before they were picking out flower arrangements and setting a date for their wedding ( mal was the flower girl and her soon - to - be stepbrothers were groomsmen ).

after the marriage took place, mal’s new stepfather was completely committed to taking care of the new members of his family. he moved them into his home, paid for mal’s mother to complete her degree, and even formally adopted his new stepdaughter, her surname officially changing to roth.

the few years that ensued were uneventful outside of a few things : mal started taking music lessons, her stepbrothers went off to college and so she became the only child of the household, and her mother completed law school and opened up a practice in the city.

mal tried countless hobbies, but nothing besides music could hold her interest for long. in high school, she joined the skater kids clique and started to rebel. it was just small things at first : sneaking out after curfew, trying cigarettes, drinking at the skate park with her friends on the weekends. her parents had noticed of course, so they scolded her a little and figured that was that. spoiler alert : it wasn’t.

at approximately two in the morning on her sixteenth birthday, mal and a few of her friends drunkenly stole a car from her stepfather’s dealership and wound up crashing into lake merritt. mal was behind the wheel at the time. fortunately, no one was seriously injured. her parents were simultaneously relieved and furious. however, they were far more interested in helping her rather than punishing her. deciding that a change of scenery and being away from her friends who they deemed to be a bad influence might be good for her, mal’s mother and stepfather sent her to live with a virtual stranger.

in the years since he had started his record label, mal’s father had upgraded his reputation, going from washed - up musician to successful businessman and mentor. he’s credited with launching the careers of several artists in the genres of rap and r & b. he was earning more money than ever, dating beautiful celebrities, and buying all sorts of expensive items for himself. he sent cards & money for birthdays & holidays and called on the phone every once in a while, but mal had never met him.

she never thought much of it. their first in - person meeting was actually rather anticlimactic. his chauffeur picked her up from the airport and brought her to his enormous bel air mansion, and he was just leaving for work when she arrived. he told her to make herself at home, and that was it.

mal spent her first few weeks in los angeles exploring her new home. she poked around the edges of the local party scene and found that it had lost its appeal for her after the accident, so she turned her attention to the one constant in her life : music.

she started accompanying her father to the studio and quickly caught onto the basics. at just sixteen years old she was writing songs that artists were literally fighting over, but as she noticed her words growing more and more personal, mal started keeping songs for herself and soon she had more than enough for an entire album.

the song royals was released in 2013 when mal was sixteen years old, written about her first impressions of los angeles as someone who had never left their less famous and glamorous hometown. it was kind of an experiment. no one really knew what was going to happen, but no one was expecting the song to become the PHENOMENON that it did.

royals was critically acclaimed, spent nine weeks at the number one spot on the billboard hot 100 chart, and went on to win two grammy awards : best pop solo performance and song of the year.

her debut album pure heroine was released in 2013 as well, and her second album melodrama was released in 2017. the long break in between albums became a literal meme that’s starting to pop up again now that it’s been around three years since mal has released something new.

she moved to toronto in 2016 while she was working on her second album. it was just supposed to be a little vacation that would hopefully help to clear her head because she was struggling to write at the time, but mal wound up falling in love with the city and decided to make it her permanent residence.

PERSONALITY

Perfectionist™️

I HATE EVERYBODY by halsey is honestly a perfect explanation for how she typically is in her personal relationships. she falls hard and fast, and when the relationship inevitably disintegrates she’s devastatingly heartbroken until she discovers a new infatuation. she does it with both romances and friends, moving through the lives of people around her in search of something she’s never found.

basically, she wants love but expects it to happen right away, and when it doesn’t she immediately writes off the relationship as a failure.

the type of person to literally move to a new house if her refrigerator stopped working because she doesn’t feel like getting it fixed.

almost overly generous with friends. you like her perfume? here, take the bottle! car broke down? come on, she’ll buy you a new one! material things = love is something she isn’t even aware that she believes in, but she absolutely does.

she’s REALLY self - centered though. people do often approach her for advice, but she’s just not a good listener.

lowkey insecure and worries that she’s unloveable but she’d never outright say so except for in her music.

she’s approachable, but not really the chatty, small talk type. because of this, she’s gotten a bit of an unfair reputation for being frigid in the media.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

best friend ( basically the one person she’s never gotten even a little bit bored of. )

friends ( usually surface level, but also former friends, childhood friends, industry friends )

industry rivals

enemies

pr relationships ( romantic, platonic, negative, but all 100% fake )

exes / hookups / ewb / fwb

her current infatuation - could be platonic or romantic

THERE IS A POTENTIAL CONNECTION THAT INVOLVES HER SECRET, SO PLEASE FEEL FREE TO MESSAGE ME IF YOU MIGHT BE INTERESTED AND WE CAN DISCUSS!

these are just some base ideas for connections, so please don’t feel limited to what’s listed here!

#sixhqintro #abandonment tw #theft tw #car accident tw #very excited to write with everyone!

7 notes · View notes

gra-sonas · 5 years

Text

The Kissing Booth | Malex [R]

This is a happy Malex highschool AU. There are no hammers or homophobic dads in this one, just two boys kissing for the first time (and then some). I may have borrowed a few lines of dialogue from 1x06, just not quite in the way you’d expect.

Author’s note I: Eternal thanks to @Insidious-Intent for the quick beta, you rock!

Author’s note II: This fic is rated R for a reason, Alex and Michael are both 17 (i.e. at the age of consent in New Mexico, and holy shit, do they both consent).

on AO3

This is for all my lovelies who had a rough night. ♥

･ﾟ✧

“Oh my god, Michael, what are you even wearing?”

Isobel is standing in front of Michael, arms akimbo and fury emanating from her every pore.

Michael looks down at himself.

“That’s my best flannel, Iz. There’s only one little stain on it that just won’t come out. These laundromat washing machines don’t do well with motor oil. But you can’t really see it when I’m in the booth.”

Michael is embarrassed. She knows that his budget doesn’t allow for him to buy fancy clothes, why is she so mad at him? Isobel closes her eyes for a second and takes a deep, steadying breath.

“I didn’t even notice the stain. But your shirt is missing buttons, Michael. Pretty much every button to be precise. And you’re not wearing a shirt underneath. I can almost see your belly button!”

Michael snickers, he’s quick to school his face into a mask of friendly indifference though. Iz doesn’t handle well being laughed at.

“I know, the one near my belly button came off when I put the shirt on this morning. I didn’t have time to fix it. And I didn’t have a clean shirt either. Sorry, Iz.”

Her face does a complicated thing where she looks furious one moment, then like she pities him the next (which he hates, he doesn’t want or need anyone’s pity, least of all hers), and then it’s back to her determined ‘I get shit done’ face. Michael almost gets whiplash from looking at her going through all these expressions.

“OK, I’m going to find a shirt for you, you cannot run the kissing booth with half your shirt off.”

“But why not, Iz? Don’t you think my sweaty, almost shirtless torso is gonna bring all the people to the yard?”

Isobel crunches her face in disgust.

“Ew, Michael. This is a school Carnival in case you forgot. Keep it PG and don’t be gross.”

“Gross is my middle name,” he mumbles under his breath.

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing, Iz, nothing.”

She looks around and spots a dark clad student with spiked hair walking up the steps to the school’s main entrance.

“Hey, you!”

The guy stops and turns around.

It’s Alex Manes, local emo/goth/whatever and avid skateboarder. He’s also the guy Michael’s had his bisexual awakening over. They’d been paired for a project in their computer science class last fall and Michael had liked spending time with Alex. A lot. They even got an A for their essay, thanks to Alex being an actual wizard when he had a keyboard in front of him. Michael is still in awe of Alex’s coding skills.

He’s also still hopelessly in crush with Alex. The dark eyeliner, the hair, the bling, not to forget the sinfully tight skinny jeans that do wonders to show off Alex’s strong legs and amazing ass. Yeah, ever since Michael realized that he’s also into dicks, Alex has played a vivid role in most of Michael’s fantasies, sexual and non-sexual. Not that he ever did anything about it though.

He knows Alex is gay, not a day's going by without Valenti and his ilk bullying Alex in some way because of it, but Michael’s been careful not to get any ideas. Alex might be gay, that doesn’t mean he’d necessarily be attracted to someone like Michael. He’s not exactly a catch with his big nose, unruly hair and hand-me-down clothes.

Michael’s trying to play it cool when Alex walks the steps back down and comes over to where they are standing in front of the Kissing Booth.

“You yelled, Miss Evans?”

Michael admires Alex for having the balls to address Isobel with a voice that’s dripping with sarcasm. She doesn’t seem affected by Alex’s somewhat insolent reply though.

“Do you have an extra shirt?”

Michael is stunned, apparently Iz is willing to let Alex’s behavior slide, if only she gets a shirt for him out of it. She must be really desperate to cover his chest.

“I do.”

Michael feels his face heat up. Any second now Iz is going to explode and yell at Alex. And he’ll associate Michael with the incident and never look at him again. Great.

To his surprise, Isobel’s voice is especially sweet when she speaks again.

“I’m sorry, I should explain why I asked you about the shirt. You see, Michael here is going to run the kissing booth at the Carnival today, and look at his flannel. It’s missing a number of buttons. You can almost see his belly button!”

Faster than Michael has any chance to react, Iz pulls his flannel apart to show the expanse of his naked chest to Alex, who looks rather flabbergasted. Then his eyebrows draw together in a thoughtful frown.

“Wouldn’t that be a selling point though? I’m pretty sure most of the girls lining up to kiss Guerin will be more than happy to get an eyeful of that.”

He gestures at the general direction of Michael’s left nipple. Which hardens immediately. Fuck his life, Michael is not sure whether to laugh or cry. He goes for flirty sarcasm instead. If he’s going to die of embarrassment today, he’s gonna go out with a bang.

“Why just girls, Manes? I’m an equal opportunity kind of guy, don’t you think my manly chest could be of interest to anyone else?”

Alex’s eyes are wide, looking at Michael, but he snorts.

“I don’t see a single chest hair growing on that manly chest of yours.”

Iz waves her hand in front of Alex’s face.

“Sorry to interrupt your banter, but I have other things to take care of. Shirt?”

She holds up her flat hand and for a change, Alex complies. He takes off his backpack, opens it and pulls out a black shirt. The cover of Depeche Mode’s Music for the Masses album is printed on the front.

“It’s a bit frail around the collar, hope your manly chest won’t catch a cold through the holes. I want this back by the way, no need to wash it. I’ll do that myself.”

With that Alex hands the shirt over to Michael, zips his backpack, then turns around and leaves.

Michael is stunned. He clutches the shirt to his chest as if to comfort himself.

Iz puts a hand on his chin and turns his head around to look at him.

“Are you freaking out because you just outed yourself to the local gay guy?”

“What? No, of course not. It’s not a secret. I mean, I’ve never told anyone except you, but I’m not ashamed of it. I’m still stunned that you forced him to hand over a spare shirt so I won’t be such a kissing magnet.”

He yelps when Isobel’s fist makes contact with his bicep.

“Go into the booth and put the shirt on, wear the flannel over it, don’t make a scandal. This is all for a good cause and I don’t want to hear any complaints about your behavior. There are wet wipes in the booth, use them between kisses, there’s also mouth wash, use that too. I’ll come by in about two hours and I swear to god, your chest will never get a chance to grow a single hair, if you don’t behave. Understood?”

Michael nods. Isobel turns on her heel and heads over to the area where Max supervises the setup of a huge bouncy castle that looks like a flying saucer. Being as alien as possible in plain sight is Isobel’s thing, but then Roswell is the perfect town to host an alien themed Carnival.

Michael enters the kissing booth, unbuttons the remaining buttons of his favorite flannel and picks up Alex’s shirt. No one’s around, so he allows himself to hold it close to his nose and sniff. The shirt is freshly laundered, but it still smells like Alex somehow. It’s comforting.

Michael’s overcome with sudden longing, and he keeps breathing in the soothing scent for another moment. When he hears a noise from outside the booth, he quickly pulls the shirt over his head and exits the booth while he puts the flannel back on. He doesn’t bother with the buttons though.

･ﾟ✧

Three hours into the Carnival, Michael is tired. He’s chewed through a pack of gum, the first bottle of mouthwash is almost empty, and the trash can is filled with used wet wipes.

He’d thought kissing so many people in one day would be fun, but it’s not.

The number of people with bad breath is staggering (smokers being the worst), and more than one girl has tried to slip him their tongue. Michael loves kissing, but as it turns out, he has to like the person he kisses, or else it’s a somewhat boring and at times humiliating task.

Iz has allowed him to take a ten-minute break every hour and he’s relieved when the line in front of the booth dwindles down. Time to take his break. He’s about to close the window, when he sees Alex Manes approaching. It feels like his heart is doing a somersault in his chest.

Alex stops in front of the booth. He seems nervous, and he takes a deep breath before he speaks.

“Hey. Can we talk?”

Michael’s hands are sweaty and cold all of a sudden.

“Uh, yeah, I guess?”

Alex leans closer to the open window, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Somewhere private, maybe?”

Michael nods and tilts his chin to indicate that Alex should come around to the door on the back of the booth. As soon as Alex is out of sight, Michael closes the window and turns the sign that will inform people he’s on a break. It’s red with a green flying saucer depicted in the middle, and it reads I’ve been abducted, BACK IN 10.

Michael also closes the flimsy curtain to keep prying eyes from looking inside the booth before he opens the door.

Alex is fiddling with the hem of his black Danger! At the Picture Show shirt. When Michael tries to run his hand through his curls, he realizes he’s still wearing the green visor Isobel made him wear. The sticker on the bill depicts a little green Martian with pursed lips that says “Kiss me, I’m an alien". Michael takes the visor off and lets it dangle from one finger.

Alex enters the booth and closes the door behind him. All of a sudden, it’s dim inside, the only light coming from three strings of fairy lights Isobel put up to imitate starlight. Pictures of UFOs and cartoon aliens are lining the walls, some of them are even kissing. A UFO made from papier-mâché is hanging from the ceiling, the WE COME IN PEACE lettering sparkling in green glitter.

Michael looks at Alex with wide eyes. He has no idea what Alex wants.

“Okay, talk?”

Michael feels like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin when Alex keeps quiet for what feels like at least another minute. All of a sudden Alex surges forward and puts his hands on the lapels of Michael’s flannel. He stumbles back until he hits the wall. Alex comes after him, taking small steps, then he pulls Michael closer ever so slowly. When Michael doesn’t give any indication of being afraid or wanting an out, Alex closes the final gap between them and kisses the living daylights out of him.

Michael is shell-shocked for all but two seconds before he also dives in and kisses back with everything he has, the visor dropping to the floor from his hands before he clings to Alex’s shirt.

When Alex pulls back eventually, Michael leans forward and tries to chase his lips. He lands one more peck before he opens his eyes and looks at Alex who’s taken a step back. His face is flushed and his eyes are so wide, Michael’s afraid they might pop out of his head any second. Michael wants to kiss the deer-in-the-headlights panic from Alex’s face, but he’s afraid that Alex might bolt when he follows that urge.

He’s careful to slow his motions when he reaches out for Alex and cups his face in his hands.

“Hey, you ok?”

Alex blinks.

“I’m not sure. I kissed you. And I didn’t even pay for the kiss. Isobel’s gonna kill me.”

Michael smiles at him.

“Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do that? How often I dreamed about it?”

Alex looks stunned.

“You did? I never thought I’d have a shot with you, but then you said you’re also into guys earlier and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Then I thought about all those times we talked when we were working on that project and I - I thought maybe... I’ve been debating whether I should line up and kiss you for the good cause, but then I didn’t want our first and maybe only kiss witnessed by half the school.”

Michael’s smile grows and his eyes light up.

“Our first kiss? So there will be more?”

Alex looks into his eyes and carefully inches closer until their chests are almost touching.

“Would that be a bad idea?”

Michael shakes his head, his curls flying in every direction.

“It’s the best idea you’ve had so far, other than making the first move. You have no idea how glad I am you did th... mmmffff.”

Alex effectively shuts him up by kissing him again.

He’s not shy about it either. The kiss gets more intense and almost filthy with a twist of Alex’s tongue that makes Michael moan. He’s never been kissed like that. Alex is claiming him, and Michael is one hundred percent on board with the idea.

When Alex cups Michael’s face and lets his hands wander to the back of his head to bury them in the long strands of his curls, Michael almost sobs with how good it feels. To be held like this. When Alex slightly pulls Michael’s hair a moment later, it goes straight to his cock.

He’d been getting harder with every swipe of Alex’s tongue, but the hair-pulling triggers his cock to full hardness. Alex somehow seems to realize what he’s done, because he’s letting go of Michael’s head by dropping his right hand, which causes Michael to make a protesting sound that almost immediately turns into a whimper when Alex uses his hand to cup Michael’s dick.

Michael cants his hips forward in an effort to get more pressure, and Alex, bless him, starts rubbing and squeezing his dick through the denim of his faded jeans. The friction is delicious but not near enough. If Michael had any control left over his limbs, he’d try to open his fly, but he’s clinging to Alex with both hands fisted in his shirt, holding on for dear life. If he lets go of Alex now, he might just drop to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.

When he realizes that somehow Alex managed to open his fly with one hand, his knees almost give out under him. Alex fumbles with the waistband of his boxers for a second, but then his hand is finding its way inside and Michael hisses when Alex’s long, guitar-calloused fingers wrap around his cock and apply the perfect amount of pressure and friction. It only takes a few pulls of Alex’s hand until Michael comes, helplessly gasping into Alex’s mouth while the ripples of the most intense orgasm he’s ever experienced run through his body.

He’s afraid he won’t be able to keep himself up any longer, but Alex is holding him through the full-body-shudders, whispering sweet nothings into Michael’s ear. He feels like a hot air balloon, ready to fly away with just a gust of wind, but Alex won’t let him. He’s holding Michael, grounding him, and slowly caressing him back to coherence.

He’s not sure if he should be embarrassed that he came all over Alex’s hand or what to do next. But apparently Alex is not only a coding wizard, he’s also a sex wizard who slowly coaxes Michael backwards until his knees hit the seat of the nearby chair. Alex helps him lower down until he sits after he’s pulled his hand out of Michael’s pants.

Alex looks around and notices the wet wipes. He picks them up and cleans his hand, then he kneels down in front of Michael and pulls down the waistband of his boxers. He dabs the remaining spots of come away, but instead of letting the waistband snap back against Michael’s stomach, Alex bends forward and places a soft kiss just slightly left of Michael’s happy trail, then another one a little lower, then another one on the smooth foreskin of his spent cock.

Michael is overcome with a wave of affection that makes his heart squeeze in his chest.

He buries his hands in the spiky strands of Alex’s hair and strokes against the grain. Alex makes a sound that sounds an awful lot like a purr. Michael files the information away for later. Because there has to be a later, a later where they are alone, where they have time to explore. And a horizontal surface to lie down.

Michael’s voice is raspy when he tries to speak again.

“This was... uhm, yeah.”

Alex looks up at him. His eyeliner is slightly smudged, and his pupils are blown. He smiles.

“Yeah, pretty damn uhm.”

Michael chuckles. Then he remembers that he has no idea whether Alex came. How very rude of him.

“Oh shit, you’ve been doing all the work here and gave me the most amazing orgasm of my life, and I - so um, should I now or...?”

Alex smiles and shakes his head.

“You don’t need to worry, Guerin. You did plenty. Seeing you like this, knowing that it was me who did this to you got me off just fine. I might have to use another of these wet wipes though, nothing worse than come drying in your underwear.”

Michael bursts out laughing. This whole situation is absolutely amazing and utterly ridiculous in equal measure. He wouldn’t want to change anything about it though. Apart from shutting down this damn kissing booth and taking off with Alex. Even the thought of kissing anyone but Alex after what just happened makes his skin crawl.

“You know what? Why don’t you clean up while I fire off a text to tell Iz I caught herpes from someone’s kiss. I’ll let her know that I found someone who offered to take me to the nurse’s office. Max is scheduled to take over the booth in an hour anyway. I doubt anyone will notice it’ll be closed for an hour because it’s lunch time.”

Alex nods along to Michael’s word vomit. He grabs the packet of wet wipes, unzips his pants and Michael has a hard time not to stare. How Alex will manage to clean up while his very tight jeans are basically glued to his skin is beyond Michael’s comprehension. He doesn’t dwell on the thought though, instead he pulls out his phone and texts Isobel.

He knows she’s going to be mad as hell at him. It’s impossible for him to catch herpes, he’s immune to human diseases (as far as they know), meaning she’ll know he’s bailing, but he doesn’t care.

He’s going to drive himself and Alex out into the desert where they will be alone and can continue where things left off. The makeshift bed in the back of his truck is the perfect playground.

When Alex is done, Michael gets up from the chair, buttons his pants and slowly moves into Alex’s personal space again.

“Ready to go?”

Alex smiles and presses a soft kiss to Michael’s lips.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

FIN

#malex #alex manes #michael guerin #malex fic #rnm fic #roswell new mexico #my fic

168 notes · View notes

noramoya · 5 years

Text

“DON’T STOP TIL YOU’VE HAD ENOUGH : AN ARTICLE ON THE QUINCE JONES MJ TRIBUTE DEBACLE.” – SYL MORTILLA, @WordPress .

“You know how sometimes people get offended on behalf of others? Well, right now, I am seething. Positively livid. Absolutely outraged, and do you know the worst part? I am not even directly affected by what has happened here. It’s not my money involved, but I am truly appalled for you and I guess it could happen to any of us so we should not stand for it. Let me explain.

I was in London recently, deep in the underground rabbit warren, climbing up an escalator the size of Everest. As I ascended the cold metal steps, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, one of many promotional posters for forthcoming shows. Despite keeping my ear to the ground, my finger on the pulse and some say, my head in the clouds, I hadn’t heard of this one.

In fact, I was temporarily bamboozled by it. I had heard some time ago that Quincy Jones would be playing a show at the O2 Arena, but this bore no resemblance to that event.

It was still Quincy, but it contradicted my recollection that it was to be a celebration of the work of the late Michael Jackson.

Originally, this “world exclusive concert” had promised not only “three iconic albums played back to back” but went on to nail its colours to the mast by actually naming them: Off The Wall, Thriller and Bad.

I remember at the time thinking that this would be quite the spectacle, but the ticket prices were utterly exorbitant – well in excess of a hundred pounds a pop.

The new poster was so different that I questioned whether it was even the same event or if I had already missed that one and now this was the follow up show.

I felt like I was in Animal Farm, staring in disbelief at the board previously displaying the motto “four legs good, two legs bad,” adjusted to read “four legs good, two legs better,” leaving me questioning my own memory of the original.

I have since read something that confirms that I hadn’t been imagining things after all and rather than being a feverish cheese dream, the content of the concert HAS been altered to remove all remaining traces of Jackson.

Now, everyone is entitled to their opinion as to whether or not this was the right thing to do in the light of recent allegations (arising from a “documentary”) and I am not here to have that debate.

What I take issue with though is that when you substantially deviate from the original advertised line up that people have paid handsomely to see, they should be entitled to receive a full refund.

What wound me up most was the arrogant stance taken by the promoters. Disgruntled fans have received a response from them explaining: “the show’s content has not changed. Songs from the three Michael Jackson albums will be played, alongside tracks which celebrate era-defining music. Therefore, we are unable to offer refunds.”

Now, let’s just think about this for a second. They’re claiming that it’s the same show as before. I mean, I guess they have got a point – after all, it is still Quincy Jones and seats are every bit as expensive as they were before, but the actual music? Well, that could not be more different.

The show appears to have shrunk in the wash and its colours have run. Now, in its place we have “Soundtrack of The 80s” featuring “iconic songs and defining albums.” I’m genuinely surprised that Sara Cox isn’t billed to host it.

Get your magnifying glass out though and look carefully at the small print at the very bottom of the poster and any fears you may have previously had will be swept aside.

See – it IS EXACTLY the same concert as before. O yea of little faith. Look, there’s all of Jackson’s biggest hits… Rock With You… Man In The Mirror… er, Yah Mo Be There…

I appreciate that there are bigger injustices in the world right now, but the principle of this stinks and the precedent it sets is utterly unacceptable.

This is like professional gaslighting. Maybe the organisers of the event are in a state of traumatised denial after this significant transformation to their show.

The last time a promoter was this cheeky was back when people who had bought seats to see Michael Jackson at his O2 residency for his ill-fated This Is It farewell tour were offered hologrammatic “souvenir” tickets instead of their money back.

When people buy tickets for Glastonbury, they do so without knowing what the line up will be in advance. People know that they are getting on board before the bands are announced and if they aren’t satisfied when the poster is unveiled, they are free to cancel.

Line ups are subject to change all the time, but usually, when someone drops out, the promoters arrange for someone equally impressive to stand in. Sometimes, the replacement is actually better than the act originally scheduled, so it works in the fans’ favour.

Occasionally, issues arise where, for whatever reason, artists are unable to fulfil their original obligation due to their personal situation or circumstances beyond their control.

I was crushed one Summer when Irish girl group B*witched were due to headline a Nineties nostalgia concert, but were sadly unable to make it in time due to problems with their flight. To be fair to them, they offered a full explanation and regular updates throughout the course of the evening by virtue of regular Skype updates. These things happen. C’est la vie.

There is sometimes a disclaimer attached to shows warning in advance of possible alterations. It covers the promoter’s back, acknowledges the reality of the industry and manages fans’ expectations.

I have studied the Quincy poster quite closely under my musical microscope and I don’t see anything anywhere that states: “please note: the advertised content is subject to change at any minute – in fact, it might have already changed beyond recognition by the time you buy tickets. Those who wish to take a complete leap of faith do so entirely at their own risk as even if we move the goal posts so far apart that they end up being in completely different countries, we reserve the right at all times to not only refuse entry but also refunds.”

I am no mathematician, but I am genuinely curious as to how much of the original advertised content of a concert you have to depart from before it can be considered a “change.”

Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that you bought tickets to see The Manic Street Preachers on their current tour, encouraged by the promise that they are going to be playing your favourite album of theirs: This Is My Truth, Tell Me Yours in its entirety. Imagine turning up, feather boa warming your your neck, looking forward to hearing songs from that album, only to be told that instead you are going to be treated to two hours of singer James Dean Bradfield’s side project.

Furious, you rush to the box office for a refund. “Ah,” says the woman behind the counter, “but this is the same concert.” “HOW is it?” you wail. “James will still be playing songs from This Is My Truth,” she says, “alongside era-defining music.”

Faced with no alternative, you return to the show to hear James playing George Benson’s Give Me The Night. “But this isn’t even one of theirs!” you scream, throwing back your head in terror, at which point you see a sign on the ceiling above you that says “NO REFUNDS.”

The addition of extra songs doesn’t make things better, it makes them considerably worse, as it has the effect of diluting the overall quality. It makes it considerably less likely that you will get to hear the songs from those albums that you paid good (Bad?) money to hear.

Maybe before the show, you could go into the O2 branch of Nando’s and order a plate of peri peri chicken, before tucking into it and immediately realising that something is wrong. Rather than your spice of choice, it has an altogether milder, tamer flavour, like someone has seasoned it with lemon and herb. It doesn’t even look or taste like chicken. Closer inspection reveals it to be pigeon!

Incensed, you storm up to the counter and demand your money back. “I’m sorry, Sir,” says the Manager, “but there are no refunds because that is the same meal as the one you ordered.” Then they chuck out a corn on the cob and throw some spicy rice in your face in an effort to placate you with era-defining side dishes.

Where exactly will this madness end? If you go to a tailor and after getting measured up and paying for a brand new suit, he then proceeds to lop the legs off the trousers and stitch a floral pattern into the lapel, can he still expect you to be happy with that?

We live in a time where people are expected to pay for the privilege of printing off their own tickets at home, and don’t even get me started on the fulfilment fees – exactly who or what are these fulfilling other than corporate pockets?!

Fans increasingly find themselves forfeiting booking fees, administration charges and the like when concerts are cancelled by the promoter. These would appear to be regarded by them as little more than curiosity taxes.

It’s all very caveat emptor – buyer beware – if you have gone to the trouble and expense of organising transport and arranging accommodation to see a show which is then pulled, well, then, that’s your problem.

By all means, go ahead and adjust the content of a concert – you’re the promoter, it’s your show, you can do whatever you like, but if you do, don’t hoodwink ticket holders into thinking that nothing has changed. Don’t flummox your customers. If they aren’t happy with the alterations you’ve made, they should be entitled to receive a full refund as the show they bought tickets to see is no longer the one that will be staged.

Believe it or not, this piece originally started out as an advertisement for the forthcoming Quincy Jones concert in which I heaped praise on the promoters for their courageous actions and argued that the concert remains fundamentally unchanged. They cannot take issue with any aspect of the final version because this is exactly the same article as before…alongside era-defining sarcasm. “

-Written by Andrew Timms .

2 notes · View notes

summerbreezeyy · 4 years

Text

Love, Huh? - Chapter 4

You woke up feeling refreshed. Must be the alcohol from last night. It has been a long time since you’ve had any. And you gotta admit, Sehun’s bed was extremely comfortable, with lots of pillows and thick comforter, you remembered he used to have nightmares since he was young and needed to hug someone or something to help him sleep easily and nightmare-less. Chanyeol must’ve brought you here, since you fell asleep on his lap last night.

You checked your phone to find that it’s 11 am. There was a note at the bedside table with the messy almost-unreadable handwriting that you know by heart.

‘Hey, we’re gonna work for the day. These are some numbers for deliveries. Don’t forget to take your med. Call us if you need anything.

-S’

You smiled reading the note. You recalled last night before he went to sleep he informed that you were going to be alone for today because they needed to do some finishing touches to the album. You almost laughed remembering Sehun’s frown when telling you all of this, clearly not liking how he had to leave you alone.

After shower and changed into your own clothes you walked out of the room and had some water. The apartment they lived in was very modern and expensive looking. It was also, surprisingly, very neat, considering 3 young guys lived here. But then again, you recalled how Kyungsoo would become very active with his words (and sometimes hands) every time the others would trash around. And they’ve been living together since their debut in 2012, so it made sense they would pick up each other’s habits. Even his neatness rubbed off on you after the constant sleepovers you’ve had until a year ago. Remembering how your ex basically forced you to stop hanging out with them made you mad at yourself. They were all that you’ve had, and you threw them away for someone who didn’t even treat you as good as they do.

Not wanting to think about him first thing in the morning, you decided to clean up the apartment. After finding the tools you needed, you vacuumed the living room. Feeling a bit bored, you borrowed whoever’s headphones on the couch and used it to listen to some music.

When Kyungsoo got home, his brows immediately furrowed together. Someone’s vacuuming, but their scheduled cleaner shouldn’t be here for another 2 days. Following the sound, he found you inside Sehun’s room, singing and dancing along to the music you were listening to with the vacuum in your hand. He couldn’t stop the corners of his lips going up, forming an amused smile.

“OH shit,” you cursed, completely shocked by the additional person in the house when you turned around.

He chuckled and took the vacuum from your hand, putting it away in the living room. “Someone cleans the house every week, you don’t need to do any.” And not waiting for your response, he went to his room to put down all of his stuff before coming out again. “You need help with unpacking?” he asked noticing your suitcase opened earlier.

A smile replaced your pout, and you nodded enthusiastically, knowing he would color coordinate your clothes. He regularly does that to his friends’ closets, destressing he would say. It even surprised you a bit knowing they have someone cleaning their place with his love of making his house spotless, but then again, they are very busy people.

Both of you went back to Sehun and your room. Sehun has emptied out (more like moving some of his clothes to the unused closet in their studio) one of the closet in his room for you to store your clothes. Kyungsoo went straight to work and started to fold your clothes neatly. You on the other hand unpacked your other stuff.

Silence consumed the room, but neither felt uncomfortable. It’s always the same with Kyungsoo. Quiet and peaceful. You’ve always loved how he makes silence so enjoyable. It’s also one of the reason all three of them work, they balance each other out. With the other two being really noisy and loud while the shortest and you when you were around, would keep things peaceful, especially when their competitive ass played games against each other.

But today, you missed him too much to not talk to him. “So how did Sehun get the master bedroom?” you started the conversation as you put away your underwear.

Organizing your hung clothes to color coordinate them, he answered, “We played rock, paper, scissors for it.”

“Shouldn’t the oldest get the biggest room? Or at least you as the leader?”

“We have no leader.”

“Okay, unofficial leader.”

“I still wouldn’t say leader. The most likely not to make fool of themself?”

You snickered, “Yea sure. So how did it happen? Did he convince you both to play for it?”

“Yup.”

“How?”

“That’s Sehun’s maknae power for you,” he simply said while finishing up.

You almost clapped at his work, but decided to just gave him thumbs up. He moved to the sink, tidying up the products you put earlier while also cleaning after Sehun’s mess. You grabbed your money box from the suitcase and tried to put it at the most top shelf of your newly owned closet. But as you reached up, you felt a sting on your ribs and shrieked out of pain while dropping the box in the process.

Kyungsoo noticed the noise and found you crouching down clutching yourself. “Hey are you okay? It’s your rib isn’t it?”

If there’s one thing everyone loves about him is how good he is at reading the atmosphere and people. Without even explaining anything to him, his face changed to express something between worry and annoyed, understanding that you haven’t took your meds yet. He took a deep breath and gestured you to follow him once the pain subdued. Without saying anything he pulled out some side dishes from the fridge and also a bowl of rice. Again without any words he gestured you to eat once he set everything down in front of you on the dining table.

Taking the first bite, your eyes widen and mouth open, surprised at how good the food you were eating, “Wow, this is so much better than last year,” you moaned out. Seeing your expressions a smile replaced the frown on his face. It was not the first time someone complimented him on his cooking, but he did miss your over reactions towards his food.

When you ate the kimchi, a familiarity hit you, “It’s Sehun’s mom’s kimchi isn’t it?” He only nodded. You slowed down your chewing, thinking of the right words to ask.

“No, we didn’t tell her. Do you really think she would let you stay with her super busy son and not take you home with her?” See? People reader.

“Thanks.”

It’s weird, Kyungsoo thought, that he could never took his eyes off of you. The way your eyes would lit up when eating was his favorite thing to see. So for the 2 weeks you were in the hospital when you looked so weak, his heart broke. He loves your laugh and smile, he wished you would always have those on your face. What is this feeling, he would ask himself for years. Romantic feelings? Love? Obsession? He didn’t dare to explore the forbidden area. He still remembered the day Sehun found out Chanyeol had feelings for you. He was furious, for reasons he never asked, afraid of the answers he’s gonna get. He was thankful tho his friends are not as good at reading people as he does. Or is it just because he hides his feelings better?

He thought last year, when you found happiness in your boyfriend, he thought maybe, he could finally stop his . When you moved in with him, he thought, it’s time to forget. When you failed to pick up his and Chanyeol’s calls, he thought, okay you’re happy now. When you didn’t hang out with them anymore, he thought, maybe it’s God’s way of helping him to move on. And when he saw you opened your eyes, he thought, fuck, he can’t move on. So he’s just gonna do what he does best, hide his feelings.

“Oppa,” you called, looking up to him finding his eyes never left you, “Is.. Sehun okay? He was kind of different these last few days.”

He took a deep breath, wondering what to tell you. “Honestly, no.”

“What should I do then?”

His brows furrowed, looking deep in thought. “I think what we can do is to show that he’s not to blame, and let time heals him. And everyone,” he explained softly. Seeing how deflated you were, he reached forward grasping your hand, “Just act like you normally would. And don’t tuck away your feelings. Show it. Tell him. Tell us. Let us help, it will help us heal too.”

Then he released your hand and brought the dirty dishes for him to wash. Ignoring your wish to clean after yourself, he asked you what food you wanted to have for dinner.

You lit up at the thought of eating more good food, he noticed this and his mouth curved into a smile. “You know, I miss every food you’ve ever made. But I think what we need tonight is samgyeopsal and soju, don’t you think?” You cocked your head to get a better glimpse at his face from beside him.

He finished washing up and turned his body to face you, “Sure. But we have to buy it first.”

“Hmm, I also need to buy some stuff. Imma change then.” You replied with a huge smile plastered on your face.

When you got home, something caught your eyes. More like their hair color. Sehun with his orange hair and Chanyeol with pink permed hair with both sprawled in the sofa. You paused going to the kitchen, turning to face the guy with his thick glasses behind you with both your hands full with groceries, “You were at the salon today? How come your hair is still black?”

He walked pass you, “Don’t wanna have our fans blind with too much bright color.”

Looking up from their phones, Chanyeol immediately rushed towards you giving you a huge smile that you mirrored before tackled the bags you had and noisily went to the kitchen asking what are they eating for dinner, almost earning a hit from Kyungsoo for his unnecessarily loud voice. Sehun slowly approached and patted your head, “Feeling better?”

Still smiling you just nodded. “How you are not bald yet is beyond me,” as you proceeded to ruffle his hair, which was still soft despite all the bleachings.

He copied your expression and then went to the kitchen, Chanyeol’s loud voice caught your attentions. Then there he was, dancing around the kitchen while cheering, “Samgyeopsal, samgyeopsal,” over and over again before Kyungsoo finally hit the back of his head, sharply said, “Help or shut up, idiot.”

“But I’m your idiot and you love me,” Chanyeol sticked his tongue out to his chingu before laughing loudly and ran off outside the kitchen seeing Kyungsoo was picking up the chopping board to hit him. You and Sehun just took the scene in front of you and laughed along.

“I swear I will hurt him someday,” Kyungsoo said, fixing his glasses and put the board down to cut some vegetables.

You walked towards him, touching his shoulder lightly, “No you wouldn’t. You love him,” you tease and replaced to help him chop things before he got the other things ready.

Kyungsoo cutely (never tell him that he is tho, he hates it) pouted, before continued doing his things in his way, quietly.

While you were doing that, Sehun took out the meat you bought earlier, and put them in a bowl before putting away the other groceries. He might seem normal, but you knew this was him not being himself, around you at least. He’s always soft towards you, treating you like a baby, but not all the time. You would act like cat and mouse sometimes, fight occasionally, but lately he’s been on his toes, being very careful. With his words and touches. Heck, he wouldn’t even care about what happens in the kitchen before being the one who everyone babies all the time, but now he even helped. This earned a confused look from Kyungsoo as well. But maybe your longest friend was confused as well, frustrated even, not knowing how to act around you. And maybe Kyungsoo was right, time was needed to heal everyone. Still, you needed to talk to your friend, this you knew.

“Can you guys stop? I can pick them up myself,” you tried to stifle a giggle after the continuous putting-meat-on-your-plate for the last 30 minutes. You hardly saw Kyungsoo next to you who did all the grilling eat. This caused Chanyeol to unstretch his arm from across Kyungsoo. He looked back at you, with his big puppy eyes, trying to look as rejected as possible. So for the last time, with a smile you told them and yourself, you opened your mouth to receive his meat (grilled meat, get your head out of the gutter).

Then the dinner continued as normal, except for when you choked on your water did the three pairs of eyes (two sets with exceptionally big size) looked at you with concern. This time you laughed. “Guys, I know what happened made you worried about me. I know even some of you,” you focused your eyes on the guys across you, “are still blaming yourself. And let me say this again, none of what happened is any of your fault. I love all of you, and I can’t thank you guys enough for everything that you’ve done to me. But please, trust in me, that I can be okay again, that I am going to be alright.”

Not decent, Kyungsoo reminded himself, to blush when you said ‘love’. He knew you meant it differently than what he wanted, but what you needed at the moment is a friend, and that’s what he was going to be.

When everyone finished eating, Sehun left to pick up a call from his manager while the rest of you stayed to clean up. You caught his hyungs saying things like “It’s probably just an excuse to not clean”. But again, everyone, including yourself has a soft spot for the youngest, so you just continue to clean, before, another phone rang and it’s Chanyeol’s turn to pick up his phone. He started his phone call with a very sweet, “Hello? Oh hi, I’m sorry I forgot to call you.”

“So he’s dating someone?” you asked Kyungsoo as he washed the dishes and you wiped them dry.

Kyungsoo just scoffed, “It is rare to see him not,” he said mindlessly as he passed you a plate.

You continued doing that, again in silence, just like how both of you prefer it. Somehow the quietness amongst the chaos in shape of a Park Chanyeol and Oh Sehun made both of you felt warm and found solace in it.

The guy next to you kept convincing himself that the tingling feeling on his stomach and warmth in his heart whenever you would accidentally touched his arms were probably due to the fact you haven’t been around each other for a year and he just missed you a lot. He ignored the sound of his heart beating harder than it should be, trying to make himself believe it was just the soju affecting him. He pushed away his thoughts and wishes of hugging and kissing your cheeks when you smiled ever so brightly at him when you finished. He prayed to all the gods out there that what he felt now, was going to fade, and then disappear.

Another reason why he refused to drink more when all of you were gathered at the coffee table again, other than the fact he’s not as heavyweight as the rest of you.

“So, who’s the lucky one?” your eyebrows waggled at Chanyeol.

“What?”

“The one you’re dating.”

“Ah,” he paused to chugged down a shot, “Why don’t you guess? But for every wrong answers you gotta do a shot,” he challenged, “I miss your drunk state.”

“Okay. Wait do you all know who?” you asked towards the other guys who just shook their heads. “Let’s play together then!”

“Nope, not interested,” Kyungsoo backed down to the sofa behind him.

“Sure,” Sehun said from across Kyungsoo.

“But I need clues,” you replaced your soju with a glass of water instead, not wanting to be drunk obviously. “If I could guess, that means they’re famous right?” Chanyeol just nodded. “Okay, female or male?”

“Guess, and if you’re wrong you could always drink,” he grinned.

You pouted but played along anyway, “Male?”

Chanyeol’s grin just got bigger and you scowled. “Wrong. Drink up.”

“Okay. She’s an idol,” you guessed after finished your shot.

He nodded. This time Sehun tried out, “I’ve seen her?”

Again Chanyeol nodded. “She’s in a group?” you asked.

“Yup.”

“A noona?”

“Another shot, lady.”

It continued like that for a while, with you asking more questions than Sehun of course. You’ve felt the alcohol kicking in, but not for nothing. You’ve concluded that the girl would be from JYP Entertainment.

“Is it Suzy?” you hesitantly asked.

Chanyeol just smirked while shaking his head. “She changed agency last year.”

You sighed in defeat and took another shot. “I’m using internet.” You informed no one in particular and moved back to lean on the sofa next to the guy who was silent the whole time. Kyungsoo noticed you moving and stretched his arm out so you can put your head there. And you did. After finding the comfy position, which was Kyungsoo’s chest (with him silently hoping no one noticed his breath hitched when you moved closer to him), you googled female idols under JYPE.

“Oppa, I swear to God if it’s ITZY’s maknae Yuna I’m gonna punch you hard.”

This caused all the guys to crack up. “Why?” Chanyeol asked in the middle of his laugh.

“She’s a minor, you pedophile.”

“Well thank God she’s not the one then,” he replied still laughing.

“Okay she’s a member of Twice then,” Sehun chimed in.

“You’re getting closer.”

So you googled Chanyeol and Twice but found nothing too helpful other than he collaborated with Nayeon and Jihyo, and MC-ed with Dahyun. He also was in a show with Sana. But being trained how to act in front of the camera, you couldn’t really tell anything different from the photos and videos you saw.

Before you could guess any other name, your phone rang and showed Yixing’s name as the caller. So you sat up straight, leaving Kyungsoo’s embrace, something he hates, and picked up the phone.

“Oppa,” you said to the phone when the other one didn’t say anything. Three heads snapped towards you with the word you said. “Oppa, it’s me,” you said once again not getting any reply.

You could hear a relieved sigh from the other side before he talked. “Jesus Christ, I thought you were gone.”

You broke into a smile before answering, “It’s gonna take more effort for that I’m afraid.” You excused yourself from them before heading to the kitchen.

Three sets of eyes kept following your movements in the kitchen, how you kept smiling and laughing to the phone. They also didn’t leave your figure until you were seated back next to Kyungsoo.

“Hmm, just text me the address. We’ll talk later, kay? Bye,” you said to Yixing after catching up with him.

Those eyes were still pointed at you, obviously curious who’s the caller. You gave them “What?” look when you noticed their staring.

“’Oppa’?” Chanyeol prompted.

Their protective natures brought a smile to your face. “He’s a friend. A good one.”

They looked like they have more questions but sensing how you didn’t feel like talking about it, Sehun changed the subject. “Don’t tell me it’s Nayeon.”

“You really think she wants to date me? She only has eyes for our little friend right here,” he pointed his eyes at Kyungsoo which earned him laughs from you and Sehun and also a glare from behind the glasses.

Feeling a bit drowsy, you knew you had to go to bed soon, so after settling back to Kyungsoo’s arms you guessed for the last time, “Okay, last guess, cause I don’t wanna be drunk. It’s Sana.”

“Bravo,” Chanyeol clapped.

“Yes!” you cheered and yawned, feeling the sleepiness the alcohol caused.

The man you were leaning on just smiled fondly at you and shook your shoulders, “Go to bed.”

You hummed but didn’t budge an inch. Kyungsoo was too warm and comfy. Instead you closed your eyes.

When you opened it again, you were already on your bed. For two days straight someone had to put you to bed, and you loved it. You noticed it wasn’t morning yet when Sehun came out of the bedroom with his sheet mask on and plopped down beside you. “Care to tell me who your friend is?”

You moved closer to him, missing the warmth of Kyungsoo’s body and needed someone else to replace it. He welcomed you and hugged around your shoulders, hugging you tight. He wasn’t as tired as last night, since he could nap at the salon earlier, so he wanted to spend as much time as possible with you. “He’s the club owner I told you about. Turned out he has a café and we decided to meet up there.”

“When?”

“I don’t know either. Tomorrow maybe? The sooner the better?”

“Hmm, I was thinking of having dinner at my parents’ tomorrow, my mom said it’s been so long since we had a family dinner,” he informed.

“Ohh, with me too?”

He took off his mask and put it on the nightstand, “You are family, idiot,” and kissed your temple.

“Fine, dinner with the Oh’s it is.”

0 notes

adambstingus · 6 years

Text

‘Columbine destroyed my entire career’: Marilyn Manson on the perils of being the lord of darkness

He has been called an emissary of Satan and falsely blamed for one of the most notorious shootings in US history. But the singer has never been afraid of outrage. Is that really an excuse, though, to flick our interviewers testicles?

It is while discussing the difference between his stage persona and his day-to-day life that Marilyn Manson leans over and flicks me in the testicles. This comes as quite a surprise: I have encountered a lot of unusual things as a journalist, but have thus far managed to get by without an interviewee touching my genitals. More surprising still is that leaning over and flicking my testicles appears to form part of his answer to a question about whether he has ever felt consumed by the character he created a quarter of a century ago, in the same way that Bowie struggled to separate himself from Ziggy Stardust or the Thin White Duke. Certainly, the way he says: “That’s the difference!” immediately afterwards suggests it is, but I’m not sure.

For one thing, I am distracted by my sore testicles, and, for another, I wasn’t really following his line of argument at the time. First, he took my notepad, wrote “person” on it and added an “a” at the end. “I’m this and I’m this,” he said. “A person and a persona. But I can’t really divide the two. There’s a difference on the stage; people I don’t know I just seduce, in a lot of ways. You go offstage and people … even me and you now, talking …”

His voice trailed off and, while I was trying to work out whether he had just said that he did inhabit a different persona on stage he flicked me in the testicles.

It’s all a bit peculiar, but then the interview has been peculiar from the minute I stepped into the Berlin hotel suite where Manson is receiving the press. He is midway through a European festival tour and promoting his forthcoming eighth album, Heaven Upside Down, a work he describes as “hard, punk rock, Killing Joke, Joy Division, Bauhaus, Scary Monsters”, and which reunites him with Tyler Bates, a guitarist, producer and soundtrack composer best known for his work on Guardians of the Galaxy. Manson seems surprised that Bates agreed to work with him again after 2015’s The Pale Emperor, or rather its ensuing tour, during which relations between the two deteriorated to such an extent that Manson pulled a box-cutter knife on Bates.

Heaven Upside Down was announced the day before the US presidential election, in typically understated Marilyn Manson style, with a short video that was widely reported as showing the singer decapitating Donald Trump. “Well, there was no actual decapitation shown,” he demurs. “It was implied. And no Trump. There was just a guy in a red tie. Could have been a preacher. It��s funny that people see what they want to see.”

Marilyn Manson on stage in 1997. Photograph: Rob Bartholomew/Associated Press

I have been warned that, as per Manson’s usual requirements for meeting journalists, the room will be both dark and cold, which it certainly is: air conditioning up full, curtains drawn against the afternoon sun, the only light coming from a television tuned to one of those ambient channels that broadcasts endless footage of landscapes and animals. But I have not been warned that Manson will be hiding behind his hotel room door, from where he will jump out – black-clad, in full slap – pointing a gun at the back of my neck. Not, it transpires, a real gun, but a realistic enough replica for me to greet him with a startled bark of, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” rather than the more traditional “hello”. Manson laughs, shakes my hand and asks if I’d like a beer.

Thus begins an extremely diverting hour during which Manson will offer to wrestle me to demonstrate his physical and mental wellbeing; inquire, in the middle of discussing the difficulty of meeting your childhood idols and, apropos of nothing as far as I can gather, whether I am “a poop man, a scat guy”; suggest his partner, photographer and model Lindsay Usich – who wanders into the room in search of a drink – expose herself to me on the grounds that “the Guardian is an important periodical”; and flick me in the testicles.

It is difficult to work out whether all of this is done in a kind of spirit of collaboration – perhaps he is keen to ensure a journalist goes home with an incident-packed story, the better to promote the new album – or simply because Manson has, entirely understandably, chosen to enliven a long day of interviews with the European media by having a few drinks along the way. Certainly, something about his speech and gait strongly suggests the tumbler of neat vodka in his hand may not be his first of the day.

If it’s the former, then he really needn’t have bothered. Manson is a fascinating man even without the accompanying theatrics. Over the course of my time with him, he is variously funny, insightful, frank and preposterously self-mythologising: “I wake up in the morning and I just realise that I am chaos. That’s my job – I am a goddamn tornado,” he announces at one juncture. “You look at it, behold it, you get caught up in it, it tears off your roof – and I’m from Ohio, so I know about tornadoes”.

He is also, on occasion, wildly contradictory and incomprehensible, his answers veering so wildly off-road that I have no idea what he is talking about. Indeed, after one particularly unfathomable response, I find myself asking him if he’s OK. “I don’t know – check my pulse,” he laughs, but it’s a genuine query. His father, a Vietnam veteran, died days before this tour began. They were close – his dad would come on tour with him and the pair posed together for an amazing Paper magazine shoot, both in full Marilyn Manson drag. No one would have blamed him for cancelling his shows and promotional schedule to grieve. He looks aghast at the idea. “My dad would have hated me for that. He’d have kicked me in the dick. He would want me to be the best I could be right now. That’s what he raised me to be. Dad was a fucking fighter, a killer in Vietnam, but he was not a quitter; he just didn’t want to be here any more. He didn’t give up, he just wanted to be with my mom, and I respected him for that. So I wouldn’t miss a gig. It was not easy – I had to go see him a week before we went on tour. It was tough, but it made me stronger.”

Besides, he is bullishly proud of his new album, which he says “is about confidence, of fucking believing in yourself more than ever, which is something I may have lost along the road”. He is also theatrically furious at his record label for suggesting he put out a censored version for sale in the US’s Walmart stores. “It denies the legitimacy of it. If your parents give you money to buy a clean version of my record at Walmart, you might as well go there, buy a gun instead, take it into your own hands, do whatever you want.”

Listening to him talk, it’s tempting to wonder if he hankers after the era when he was American rock’s public enemy No 1, the primary source of outrage for conservative watchdog organisations. It’s easy to forget how much controversy Manson managed to cause in the late 90s, when his name was linked to the 1999 massacre at Columbine high school in Colorado, whose perpetrators were alleged – erroneously as it turned out – to have been fans.

He warms to his previous point. “Give them the money and let them make their own choice: guns or records. If [the Columbine killers] had just bought my records, they would be better off. Certain people blame me for the shootings at schools – I think my numbers are low, and hopefully they go up on this record.” It’s unclear whether he means numbers of shootings or people blaming him, but it’s provocation either way. “That’s going to be a great pull-quote for you. But, honestly, the Columbine era destroyed my entire career at the time.”

He was raising hackles long before Columbine, though. In Britain, his 1996 breakthrough album Antichrist Superstar was largely viewed as hugely entertaining glam metal in the grand gothic tradition of Alice Cooper. In the US, however, religious conservatives seemed to think he really was some kind of emissary of Satan. A succession of demented sworn testimonies on the American Family Association’s website claimed his concerts involved bestiality, satanic altars, ritual rapes and the distribution of free drugs. Some towns threatened to pass legislation banning him from performing on state property; schools in Florida threatened to expel students who attended his shows; the state of South Carolina ended up giving him money – $40,000 – not to play there.

“Well, I asked for it,” he nods. “You don’t make a record called Antichrist Superstar and not expect people to hate you. But I wanted to do something that made a difference. I wanted to put a fucking dent in the world, like my heroes: [Salvador] Dalí, Jim Morrison. I knew that there were people who would take it at face value, and that there were people who would see into it more deeply, and it would be that dichotomy that would cause chaos.”

After Columbine, the chaos ratcheted up even more. His concerts weren’t just being protested or picketed: during the 2001 Ozzfest tour, he says, he received daily death threats; “hundreds” when he played in Colorado. “I would just get on stage and smash beer bottles and cut myself and go, ‘Fuck you, bring it,’ – I’ve got scars all over my chest – I can show you. I would jump into the crowd and punch people. It wasn’t even those people who were at fault. But my dad gave me the best advice: ‘If people are going to kill you, son, they wouldn’t tell you in advance.’ No, I don’t miss that at all. It made everyone around me upset. And I discovered that police bomb dogs are also drug dogs. So when there were bomb threats, I had a very difficult time hiding my narcotics.”

It didn’t destroy his career as he claims – he still fills arenas around the world and has parlayed his notoriety into an acting career in the US TV series Salem and Sons of Anarchy, playing “a murdering barber and a paedophile white supremacist. Typecast.”

Performing in Argentina last year. Photograph: Santiago Bluguermann/CON/LatinContent/Getty Images

He has also found his fanbase extending into some unlikely places, not least the world of hip-hop. Gucci Mane and Rick Ross are fans; Lil Uzi Vert wears a diamond-encrusted pendant of Manson’s face. “I don’t know why rappers like me, other than what Gucci Mane told me,” he says. “He said I was ‘the only shit that’s real in rock’n’roll’. Rappers are hardcore and they’re real; rock’n’roll is so pussy and so lame. But I’m not saying I’m the realest thing in the world.” He sighs. “People say: ‘You’re the last rock star.’ Don’t say that to me – shut the fuck up, man! I don’t need that shit on my shoulders. But I’ll take it. I’ll own it.”

Perhaps they mean you’re the last rock star who could create the kind of controversy you created in the 90s? It’s hard to imagine anyone being shocked by a rock band now, in a world when you can see anything, no matter how gruesome or offensive, with a click of a mouse.

He nods. “I know. Fair enough. You just have to say what you’re saying with certainty, and look good when you’re saying it – that’s how you do your job.”

But if times have changed, he says he has changed, too. He used to be “angry, confused and upset”, he says. “Now, I think I feel more happy. Not like, Shiny Happy People. I think I’m just happy being myself. I think now, I’m much more charming and likable. I notice you’re enjoying yourself.”

Well, I am. He’s hugely entertaining company.

“And I’m sure in a moment you’ll take your pants off and I’ll smash you in the nuts with a beer bottle.”

No, I say, you’re OK. So instead, Manson opts for taking a selfie of us, showing me his ringtone (it’s Hot Love by T Rex), shaking my hand and asking me to write nice things about him. Of course, I say. “Good,” he smiles, ushering me out into the corridor. “Or I’ll find out where you fucking live.”

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/columbine-destroyed-my-entire-career-marilyn-manson-on-the-perils-of-being-the-lord-of-darkness/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/182571050402

0 notes

thorntonkrell-blog-blog · 7 years

Text

Dylan Deaf Jam

Zimmerman failed last night to resolve one of my longest standing differences of opinion with my wife Beatrice. Beatrice is from the “Dylan is an icon of the sixties who writes great lyrics but who has a lousy voice and arrogant personality” point of view.

I’m from the “authentic cultural spokesperson whose unique voice and enigmatic personality are as inseparable from his lyrics as the lyrics are inseparable from the music and the message” point of view.

I resist “the icon from the sixties” point of view because it turns Dylan’s timeless compositions into nostalgia acts. I agree with the “great lyrics” observation but always feel like Beatrice is setting up the polite quid pro quo of devastating criticism with faint praise followed by the real message…“his voice sucks and he’s an a-hole“, which she unfailingly does.

I had seen Dylan perform live four times before Beatrice agreed to go with me to see him about ten years ago at the Finger Lakes Performance Center. That night, Dylan seemed angry at the audience and infuriated with his own songs, so his performance was brusque and furious. Beatrice who believes that an entertainers first job is to entertain, (which means as the song goes to smile when they are low )was put off by the moody seemingly indulgent performance which fueled her original biases especially the A-Hole part.

“He never even talked to the audience. He never connected. Why didn’t he at least tell a joke or something,” Beatrice wondered and would continue to wonder until last night.

I said “the guys not a comedian and he’s not a lets all get together by the campfire and sing cumbaya type of guy. He is what he's always been which is exactly what he is at any particular moment and what he was that night was pissed off for whatever reason and that’s good enough for me” and it was until last night.

Last night we took the tie-breaker with us, our thirteen year old daughter Lydia. Point of reference, Lydia attended her first concert of her young life a week before, Green Day at the Blue Cross Arena. She loved it. Lydia plays guitar herself and blew us all away last week when she brought home the self-portrait in pencil she had been working on in her advanced art class. The Lidder Kid has some talent.

Dylan played at a much smaller venue, one of my several alma maters, the Rochester Institute of Technology. The choice of venue in itself is interesting. Is Dylan playing to smaller houses because he seeks the intimacy of smaller crowds having exhausted himself on the stadium circuit or does he no longer have the drawing power to book larger spaces.

The main reason we got the tickets in the first place was to expose Lidder to Zimmer as well as to RIT. We tried to get two tickets for just me and the Lid but since we had to buy a group of three minimum, Beatrice went along for the ride.

Whatever, twenty minutes after the scheduled starting time of 8:00 at 8:22 to be precise the sound system crackled to life with a rapid fire minimalist introduction apparently pre-recorded by an invisible emcee featuring garbled clauses like “The poet laureate of rock music and his generation……..thought to be washed up in the eighties……. His last two albums are two of the most critically acclaimed albums of his career thus the history of American recordings….the author of a currently best selling auto -biography…..Bob Dylan and his band.

Dylan came out in his black outfit with black Stetson. The members of his band, two guitarists a bass player and a drummer were also dressed in black, two of the four in cowboy hats kinda like Dylan’s. Dylan went to the piano on the left side of the stage and the group broke into “Maggie’s Farm”.

Blistering.

Bitter

Pertinent

All of the elements of working on Maggie’s Farm intact and primal. Lyrics mostly clear and decipherable. Off to a raucous start. Liddy applauded. So did Beatrice. I felt not only renewed but also partially redeemed.

Just before Dylan hit the stage, a friend of mine came over and told me that he had researched the set list. There were fourteen songs plus an encore of two. This would be a sixteen round contest. Round one was a winner.

My favorite fighters were guys like the Sugars Rays Robinson and Leonard, Alexis Arguello, Jerry Quarry, George Chuvalo and of course Muhammad Ali. As these guys got older, I used to count of each off their rounds one by one hoping that somehow they’d win each round but with equal fervor that they would at least survive the round. Then I get into the minutes per round, hoping that somehow they could win ninety five seconds of each round and keeping score in my mind as they neared the magic number of eight which would win them a decision if they didn’t get knocked out. I found myself using the same accounting system with Zimmerman on this night.

Round two was It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue. Dylanologists remember this song as the response Dylan used so many years ago when he was booed off the stage at the Newport Folk festival for committing the unforgivable sin of going electric. Since then, it’s always been one of my favorites. An anthem I use to chart my own changes and willingness to leave behind whatever is/was no longer needed.Dylan remained to the side and guitar less as the first words hit the air.

“You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last. But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast“

Unfortunately it sounded more like this

Ulleeenowuneeulas, whatchoo wishookeegrafaaaaaaaa.

Dylan hunched over the mike, growling, confronting the mike like a gambler keeping his cards close to his vest because he’s got such a bluff goin’ that if anybody sees the pasteboards he’s screwed for the whole ante. I could see Beatrice frowning and Liddy looking confused.

I could not give Dylan round two even though I wanted to.

Round three was another of my favorite songs, the haunting and magically melancholic Visions of Johanna whose first line is:

“Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin' to be so quiet?”

The only word I could make out was night.

Through the entire song, the only words I could understand were “Visions of Johanna” and I knew the song well.

For any of you like Liddy who don’t know the actual words, let me quote the first verse as Dylan wrote and published . Read them and weep because last night they disappeared completely into incomprehensibility.

“Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin' to be so quiet? We sit here stranded, though we're all doin' our best to deny it And Louise holds a handful of rain, temptin' you to defy it Lights flicker from the opposite loft In this room the heat pipes just cough The country music station plays soft But there's nothing, really nothing to turn off Just Louise and her lover so entwined And these visions of Johanna that conquer my mind”

Whoops, I made a mistake. I forgot that between Baby Blue and Johanna, Dylan sang Lonesome Day Blues. The fact that I forgot about it, tells me all I want to know about the effort.

Next came a song I won’t forget for a long time, no matter how hard I try. Dignity, another one of my favorites. If Dignity is clarity than this rendering was particularly undignified. If Dignity is plunging into a compost pile and emerging as if from a Halloween hayride with the ghost of Aunt Helen then the effort had some saving grace. Once again Dylan’s verbal articulation was puddle muddy and he continued to hover by the keyboard still not strapped in to his axe. I got the feeling that he might not be strumming’ at all on this evening. Still when he gave his howling a break and hurled his oxygen into his harp, some of the magic returned. The band, minus one geetar was carring the weight of this concert as if it had just pulled into Nazareth which seemed allright with everybody especially the integrationists amongst us who knew deep inside that there could be no segregation of lyrics and voice from music. The music in spite of the singer continued to soar even as the lyrics because of the poet continued to disappear.

At this point thirteen year old Liddy turned to Beatrice and commented “everything sounds the same” . The Trickster nodded in 'I told ya so' acquiescence.

The show went on as it must.

I recognized Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee immediately which nudged it/them towards the win column even as it/they lurched and lumbered fitfully amidst the graceful thundering wonder of the musicians.

I grabbed Liddy by the hand and with the approval of Beatrice, we headed to the floor for a closer look. One of my weird aptitudes is my ability to wade through a crowd. When Dylan had played with Petty and the Dead at then Rich Stadium before a crowd thirty times this large, I had managed to work my way to the edge of the stage. The secret of getting through a crowd is knowing how to dance with it rather than shove against it. When ya dance the crowd dance, openings appear.

Of course, I was so much younger than I’m older than that now.

The closest we could get was about fifteen rows back as this crowd was much less fluid, hardly any dancing or even movement to make advancing through it amenable. A calm brick wall.

It was from here that we heard and saw Dylan sing three slower numbers in which he had more control of the lyrics as if he actually knew the words and was going to sing them. Po' Boy, High Water (For Charley Patton) and Girl Of The North Country. I could see Zimmy pretty well but Liddy was being blocked by taller folks in fron of her. I lifted my little girl up as high as I could for as long as I could so she might get a glimpse of the great man. With the way she’s growing and the way I’m deteriorating physically, maybe that was the last time I’d lift her up like this. Made me kind of sad but kind of proud as well.

I started to believe that maybe the reason we couldn’t hear Dylan clearly for the first half-dozen songs was the fact that we couldn’t see him. Ya know, that weird reflex that confronts us when we feel the need to shout at a blind man.

By the time Liddy and I got back to Beatrice , we were already learning the illusion behind that reflexive truth. I’m no longer a thin man but there was definitely something going on here and I didn’t know what it was. I started wondering if Dylan did.

The last five songs of the show , Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again, Ballad Of Hollis Brown, Honest With Me, Standing In The Doorway and Summer Days proved to be a split decision. Three of the songs I was relatively unfamiliar with so I couldn’t very well be disappointed with them. As a matter of fact one of the songs that I never heard before, Standing In The Doorway, sounded more familiar than most of the songs that I knew by heart based on the rate of decipherable words per lyric.

One of my favorite songs, Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again was even more deconstructed then any of the previous numbers. I even resorted to whispering the chorus lyric into Liddy’s ear in the hopes of convincing her that these songs actually had words which meant I kept repeating “Oh Mama can this really be the end” over and over which I think is exactly what Liddy was thinking when she was looking at Beatrice and wishing she were somewhere else, wondering when the growling would cease. Of the final songs, Summer Days was by far the best. It sounded world class and indicated a rally in progress.

The band left the stage and I wondered if they would bother with an encore.I also wondered whether there was going to be enough applause to merit a return that could be anything more than hypocritical. Amazingly enough, the crowd didn’t move and began to applaud some even igniting about two dozen of the traditional lighters. Sno nuff, it worked. The band re-appeared.

The encore consisted of Like A Rolling Stone and All Along The Watchtower. These two turned out to be the best efforts of the evening. I later found out that the band had been encoring with these numbers through the entirety of the tour. It sounded like they had played them before and everybody knew the words and the music.

In the past when I’ve heard Dylan howl the anthemic “Like A Rolling Stone” he would stretch out the line “how does it feeeeeeel” and the audience would sing along with him. This time all but the required two e’s were missing as was the audience participation. More stenography.

Between the two numbers Dylan, as if sensing the tension between me and Beatrice, did the unthinkable. He told a joke. The joke went like this, as he introduced one of the band members Dylan said . “He comes from Louisiana so he stretches rattlesnakes across the front of his car. Calls ‘em windhsield vipers”

He introduced another band member by saying the guy was “so tough he shaves with a chain saw”. Then a magnificent version of All Along the Watchtower prologued by what sounded like an electirc version of Exodus turned everything upside down. Like all champs Zimmy came through in the end.

A little before the encore, I realized that I had been listening to the music through the ears of Liddy and watching the performance through the eyes of Beatrice. During Watchtower I watched and listened for myself and what I saw and heard was exactly what I wanted to see and hear other than the fact that Dylan never touched a guitar.

The concert reminded me of the Ali-Bonavena fight in which Ali looked listless and distracted throughout the fight until he finished off his clumsy, lumbering foe with a sudden knockout in the final round which removed from the judges the task of ruling in favor of the clearly inferior fighter.

That’s the task that the last song removed frrom my critique. I didn’t have to rip Dylan any further.

On the way back to the car Liddy said, “I expected more” which pretty much sums up most people’s feeling about Dylan even as we forget how much we already have.

Beatrice said to Liddy “ I want you to keep this ticket stub because someday, you’ll be telling someone that you saw Dylan and they’re going to want proof”. From Beatrice, that’s high praise.

I guess the joke worked and there are many here among us along the watch tower who think that life itself is but a joke.

As for me, well it had been ten years since the last time I was in the same room with Dylan. Ten years from now he’ll be 73. I’ll go again but I won’t expect to get real close to the stage even though the crowd will be less than half a thousand.

I suspect Liddy will be amongst them. She might even be holding me up next time. Beatrice and me will still be arguing.

Some times I’m a tick or two slow on the uptake. Sometimes I forget where a I am and with whom I’m with wherever I am.

We in Rochester are fortunate to have the National Technical Institute for the Deaf as part of our Rochester Institute of Technology. RIT is where Bob Dylan played in the concert that I have just reviewed.

When Dylan was leaving after completing his first fourteen songs, he paused in the middle of the stage raised his hands to chest level , palms out, fingers extended as if he were signaling “ten” while simultaneously wiping an invisible windshield using both hands.

From my distant seat, the gesture looked oddly quaint.

From where I sit now, I begin to understand. Dylan was using the universally accepted gesture of silent applause used by deaf folks, waving ten fingers. I bet the people in front of Dylan, part of the under whelming audible applause, were returning his gesture. The crowd on the floor nearest the stage and the performer were silently validating one another. A conversation was happening. Thus the non-hypocritical encore that followed.

Because we have so many deaf folks in Rochester, particularly in Henrietta; the community where RIT is located, I have become accustomed to interpreters speaking sign language at most large gatherings. At the time, I didn’t think it was unusual that to the left of Dylan, off stage, a woman was interpreting the concert. As I’ve mentioned in the review, up until the moment that Dylan silently applauded, he positioned himself to the far left of the stage. In fact, Dylan was as close to the interpreter on his left than he was to his lead guitar player on his right. If you count the interpreter as a member of the band, then there was Zimmy right smack dab in the middle of things. I make a practice whenever an interpreter is present to observe the sign language she is providing. I’m amazed at how quickly they can take complex ideas and instantaneously turn those into a lovely, commanding body language just beyond the reach of my intellect.

Now before me, I was watching a woman trying to signal lyrics like “You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last. But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast“ which as I mentioned in my review sounded more like this“Ulleeenowuneeulas, whatchoo wishookeegrafaaaaaaaa“.

Ulleeenowuneeulas, whatchoo wishookeegrafaaaaaaaa“.

Imagine the problem of trying to turn THAT into body language.

But by God, she was doing it. Maybe she had the written lyrics in front of her or maybe she was doing the best with what she thought she heard or maybe because she was so much closer to Zimmy she actually heard what none of the rest of the audience sitting in the seats could hear. Her interpretation sort of resembled a hula set to rock music. It was thing of beauty to observe, very sensual, very seductive.

I’ve heard it said that hula is all about the stories being told by the hands of the dancer and that some times the stories are so risqué that at the end of the dance, the dancer has to go and wash her hands out with soap. None of Dylan’s lyrics needed that kind of sanitization unless she was hearing something different than I was which she most assuredly was.

Later, Beatrice commented to me that this was the first and only time that I ever wished that I were deaf and understood sign language. I would have been spared Dylan’s ghastly croaking and would have been able to understand the words.”

Ouch.

I ,of course took it one step further in defense of Dylan. Is it possible that Dylan was actually singing in deaf speak. If you’ve ever listened to a deaf person speak, it has it’s own unique sound and actually doesn’t sound a whole lot different from

“Ulleeenowuneeulas, whatchoo wishookeegrafaaaaaaaa“.

Could Dylan possibly be this aware and sensitive?

Something had in fact happened there and until now I didn’t know what, had Dylan known all along?

Why not. He’s Dylan, I’m Krell. There’s a difference. Big difference.

I ran these ideas past Beatrice who assured me that I was getting a little carried away.

From Beatrice, that’s high praise.

Beatrice had one further idea. Rochester is the home of Mitch Miller, the originator of the famous sing along with Mitch concept of fifties teevee. Mitch and his crew would sing a song and invite viewers to sing along by following a bouncing ball that danced over lyrics to the song which appeared at the bottom of the teevee screen. When Dylan performed at RIT he played in front of a backdrop upon which were projected different images during the show. Beatrice suggested that next time, the words of hislyrics should be projected on the screen with the bouncing ball so that everyone, not just the deaf could understand the words and sing along.

I think she’s got an idea. I can see it now. Network teevee. Right After Desperate Housewives. Sing along with Bob Dylan. Might catch on.

You read it here first.

0 notes