#but i remember in high school she was picking her brother up after band practice and she saw me struggling to carry a bunch of stuff

[yardsards]

that time when i was like 12 years old at girl scout camp and this girl in my troop saw me going to bed listening to my mp3 player. and she started fussing over me because she was worried i would get my headphones wrapped around my throat in my sleep. and i told her i fell asleep listening to music like that every night and nothing bad ever happened but i promised to take them off before i fell asleep that night anyway. and she looked so relieved at that

and for couple weeks after that, every time i listened to music before falling asleep i remembered that girl and felt warm inside. cuz it was so nice to have someone care about my safety that much even if the thing she was fussing about wasn't actually dangerous at all. because i was just THAT starved for anybody to care about my well-being

[batty4steddie]

Can I Keep It?

@spicycinnabun and I's contribution to steddiebang 2023! ❤️️ | Chapters: 1/12 | Rating: M | Read, kudos or comment on ao3 | We have a playlist. ❤️️ | Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Chapter 1: Have You Ever Been Arrested?

Robin had the night off. Band practice or some shit. Steve was so bored. It had been dead in Family Video all day until finally, finally someone remotely attractive came into the store: Christina Kelly, a blue-eyed, bright blonde-haired Hawkins High cheerleader. On some girls, the uniform looked frumpy, but on her, the shortness of it skirted nicely over her ass. Steve’s eyes roamed up her mile-long tan legs and settled on it. She was drop-dead gorgeous.   He licked his lips and continued to watch her browse the shelves for a minute. She must’ve come from practice or a game. Steve remembered her instantly. Hard to forget a face and body like that. Damn, sometimes he really missed high school, even if it was just for the eye candy.   Once he got a good, long look, he approached her with a warm smile. He welcomed her to the store and introduced himself. While he remembered her, she didn’t remember him at all. Even after he told her he was on the basketball team, the one she had cheered for all three years they had gone to school together.

Whatever. 

The bell above the door tinkled as Eddie swaggered in. It was 6 P.M., and he was fully prepared for the campaign on Friday night, so he figured he would rent a few flicks to watch while he struggled through his trig homework due tomorrow. You know, be a responsible student. Maybe some entertainment with his studies would deter him from giving up and smoking the superb grass Rick had supplied him earlier that week. Eddie had already sampled more than he was technically allotted. It was just too good to keep his sticky fingers out of.    Nobody was at the front counter to greet him, but Eddie spotted a tuft of styled brown hair bobbing by one of the shelves and a blonde ponytail with a green scrunchie he recognized as belonging to one of the Hawkins High cheerleaders. Steve was thrilled—not only to have someone to talk to, but he was still trying to find the one, and Christina? She could be it. Smoking hot and unsure of what she was looking for, damn if she hadn’t come to the right place. Steve turned the charm up to eleven by taking the liberty of showing her around the store. The sections of the store were clearly labeled, but he still guided her, asking if she liked comedies, romances, or thrillers. Not pegging her as a horror fan. Eddie rolled his eyes with a smirk. He had half a mind to jump in and yell BOO! to interrupt whatever heterosexual mating ritual was happening between the romance and action movies. Instead, he headed towards the horror section one aisle away from the pair, gaze flitting over the titles. When one caught his interest, he picked up the empty case and turned it over to read the premise. 

Night of the Creeps, where alien space slugs turned people into sorority girl-eating zombies? That sounded pretty metal.   For every suggestion Steve made, Christina took a video off the shelf to consider it. That made him think that she was totally into him. By his last suggestion, The Legend of Billie Jean, she had an arm full of tapes. He went into a brief synopsis, explaining it was about a brother and sister on the run from the police, which prompted a sly question. He paired it with his most devilish smile.

“Have you ever been arrested? ‘Cause it’s gotta be illegal to look this good.” 

The voice of none other than Steve Harrington nearly made Eddie choke on his spit. He hastily reshelved the movie. How had he not recognized that famous hair? Eddie’s fingers clamped onto the top of the shelf as he stealthily peeked over it. He felt a giggle bubbling up in his chest at the schmoozy smile plastered on Steve’s face.   The cheerleader backed up a step, expression twisting. “Ew, I have a boyfriend.” She dropped the movies from her arms, shoving past Steve towards the exit. “Creep.” 

Eddie covered his grinning mouth with his hand, rings clacking against each other gently. Steve Harrington had zero skill when it came to the babes. Eddie always figured he tossed his hair, and they flocked to him. What a pleasant surprise.

Christina’s reaction was so bad. There wasn’t even a laugh at the fun cheesiness of it. Of course she had a fucking boyfriend. How many times was Steve going to go barking up the wrong tree? He groaned when the tapes hit the floor, and his smile instantly dropped. His concern was more about damage to the tapes that Keith would take out of his pay if they were broken than his bruised ego from Christina calling him a creep. Which hardly was the truth.   The bell jingled as the door closed. In the ensuing silence, a giggle finally escaped. Eddie quickly ducked out of view when Steve turned in his direction. He poked his head around the corner before coming out, starting a slow clap. “Wow. That was epic, man.” 

Steve was just about to bend down to pick up the tapes when he heard a laugh. The fucking laugh he wanted Christina to laugh. He hissed and flushed briefly with embarrassment, of course, because what was worse than striking out? Having a certified freak witness it. “Yeah, well, I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen a chick on your arm, Eddie. Can’t blame me for trying, man. I’m just not her type.” 

Because she had a fucking boyfriend. Steve was beyond annoyed—he was humiliated, and the tapes were still on the floor. He sighed softly and bent down to scoop them up. 

“You wouldn’t,” Eddie replied, not missing a beat. “My arm is for me only. I keep all my foxy ladies back at my sweet, sweet bachelor pad.” 

From Steve’s bent position over the videotape, a piece of hair had fallen into his eyes as he looked up at Eddie. His brow furrowed, but he didn’t say anything. Just looked completely puzzled by the comment.

He knew Eddie was poor and lived in a trailer at the trailer park, but even he could get chicks to hang out with him there? Or was he keeping some women there against their will? Eddie wouldn’t admit that to him, would he? Even if he was a freak like everybody said. 

Steve shook his head and huffed inaudibly. He wasn’t sure if that was the truth, but still, he didn’t like hearing when other people were successful in their romantic pursuits.

The last time Eddie had a chick on his arm was in nineteen-seventy-eight at a Burger King birthday party when Jeremy Jenkins dared Heather Drew to kiss him. She’d tasted like ketchup and strawberry Lip Smacker. Eddie had spent the entire excruciatingly long three-second kiss staring at the cardboard cutout of the king standing behind her. Eddie’s grin widened when he spotted the red on Steve’s cheeks. He held back from further mocking purely for Dustin and the other kids’ sake. According to his little sheep, Steve might as well have hung the fucking moon, but Eddie still saw him for what he was: a bully. Plain and simple. The guy who would call Eddie names in the hallways along with his dumb jock friends. Eddie's back was well acquainted with bruises from being shoved against lockers, and his face had taken many a beating by the dumpsters. It might never have been Steve’s particular fist in his face, and Eddie had never taken anything lying down (fuck no), but he knew Steve’s kind. And he wasn’t a Harrington groupie. 

“You could help,” Steve griped when he saw one of the tapes had gone as far as three feet, right where Eddie was standing. 

Eddie toed the movie closest to him with his sneaker. Molly Ringwald’s pouty face stared up at him from the cover, which was cracked right down the middle. Eddie crouched on his knees to grab it, his pants pulling uncomfortably tight from the stretch. 

While leather looked punk rock as hell, it wasn't the most forgiving fabric, especially when it was actually cheap pleather. 

Steve stood up with the tapes and set them on the counter while Eddie picked up the last one.

“Yeah, this one is busted,” Eddie said, popping open the case to reveal an identical crack down the tape, one of the inner reels poking through.

Steve winced. That hurt.  “God damn it,” he said softly, coming over to take it from him and looking it over himself.  Yeah, it was broken. 

“Sorry, Molly, but if it's any consolation, your movie was probably shitty anyway.” 

“Actually, it’s a pretty good movie, man. It was really popular, too. We just got it back from being rented for a while. I’m going to get questions about it all week. Who knows when we can get another copy.” Steve walked it over to the trash and threw it away. “I think you might’ve liked it. It isn’t all about her. She’s kinda annoying in it, but there’s a guy, Bender, who kind of has… your fashion sense and disposition.” 

Steve chuckled as he discreetly checked out what Eddie was wearing. Eddie’s leather jacket and jewelry were pretty similar to that character’s. Steve returned to the counter and looked over the rest of the tapes. Luckily, they were fine. 

Eddie rocked back on his heels in surprise, starting a slow walk around the circumference of the counters as he eyeballed Steve. He hadn’t expected the guy to keep talking to him. Still, here he was, going on about Eddie's fashion sense, his disposition?  Was that an insult? Eddie didn’t know what to do with this. Why was previously reigning King Jock giving him the time of day? Why wasn’t he busy admiring his reflection in the window?   God, this job must’ve been boring as hell for him to actually do it. 

“Were you looking for something specific? Seriously doubt you came to witness me striking out with Christina Kelly. You just got lucky.” 

It was kinda funny now. It got Steve smiling and shaking his head at himself. 

The store was still empty, and he was still lonely, so he could at least do his job and help Eddie find a movie since that was his reason for coming to the store.   “Um…” Eddie crossed his arms. Uncrossed them. “Nothing specific. Something to keep me from faceplanting from boredom into my homework.” Or lighting up and spending the rest of the night floating like ash on the wind. 

“Definitely don’t miss homework,” Steve replied while he took the tapes off the counter and started putting them back on the shelves where they belonged. As Eddie continued to walk around, Steve noticed a little jingle from his wallet chain as he paced the store.

“Something spooky, maybe?” Eddie wiggled his fingers with a playful smile to cover his discomfort. This unexpected turn of events piqued his curiosity, so he didn’t mention he had already found a movie.  

“Something spooky, huh?” Steve asked with a playful smirk, though he was turned toward the shelves so Eddie couldn’t see it. 

Of course the freak was into horror. That wasn't a surprise. Family Video had a stellar horror collection. While the last couple of years had been horrific in Hawkins, Steve still enjoyed the fictional movie version sometimes. Most of the horror movies he had seen triggered his memory in a good way when it came to making weapons and fighting off Demogorgons with them winning. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. We’ve got lots of horror here. Although, if you’re a fan… which is safe to assume?” Steve asked Eddie when he turned back to face him, raising his eyebrows.  He knew it was true, so he smiled when Eddie nodded a bit. “Alright, we’ve got Fright Night, Day of the Dead, Return of the Living Dead, A Nightmare on Elm Street two and Friday the 13th, part five.” 

Surely, one of those Eddie hadn’t seen. Eddie met Steve back at the horror section, popping his hip against a shelf as Steve read the newest releases. You’ve come to the right place, Steve said. Had he come to the right place, or was he actually in an alternate reality where a jock didn’t tell him to return to the Hellfire he came from? Why did Harrington keep smiling at him? 

And why did he smell so good? Was that coconut? He should have smelled like old pizza and dirty gym socks like most guys their age. Eddie knew he was rocking cigarette smoke and not much else, himself. It would be very unchill of him to lean in and get a bigger whiff of that coconutty paradise. 

To Steve, horror movies weren’t all that bad. A lot of them were funny and cheesy. Totally entertaining enough that doing homework during them was probably possible. 

Horror movies made him adamant that the group stay together and stay put instead of getting involved, but no one ever listened to him. They wanted to go, get involved and split up, which were the worst horror movie tropes. Their lives had become just like the people in every horror movie he’d ever seen. There was no convincing his babysitting crew of that, though, so he took the lead every time.    “Vampire, zombie, deranged burn victim with knife fingers, murderous goaltender…” Eddie went through the list. “What flavor monster goes best with trigonometry?” Eddie pinched his chin with his fingers as he pondered it. “I wasn’t too thrilled with the first four Fridays. Not much to those plots. Not nearly enough razzle-dazzle." He graced Steve with jazz hands this time instead of spooky fingers. “Elm Street had a lot more going for it. Maybe I’ll take the sequel. Thoughts? Got a favorite?”   If Steve had even watched any of them. Though Eddie was a fan of most things horror - the more outlandish, the better - he didn’t watch them all that often. He didn’t have the patience to sit and focus for a long time without help from his favorite herb. It was good background noise, mostly. 

At least with D&D, he was actively participating. He didn’t have to sit still. He could move around, and he got to use his wickedly colorful ideas, feeding off of other people’s imagination and making a story come alive. 

Some things, like math homework, were so fucking stifling he wanted to shoot himself. 

It was hard for Steve not to notice Eddie’s jazzy hands. His fingers were adorned with a plethora of shiny rings. He was talking animatedly with them about the different movies. The shininess of the rings caught his eye, especially with the extra movements. 

Steve hadn’t been into movies before he got this job. (Robin was the one who really got it for him, talking Keith into it somehow.) Back then, he could only name two movies: Animal House and Fast Times. He’d come a long way since then and had a lot of downtime in the store since they were only busy on evenings and weekends. 

When he and Robin worked together, they always put a movie on or had one going. They’d gone through most of the horror. He’d entertained Robin to no end when he’d talk back to the TV, putting his hands on his hips and yelling, “No. No, don’t go in there! What are you doing? No!”  

Steve looked down at his watch. Still an hour and a half was left of his shift. Also, the closest thing to jewelry he wore was his watch, but Eddie’s rings did seem… dare he say… cool. Maybe he could pull off a ring or two.  

“I agree they should’ve stopped with the first Friday.” He didn’t really have a favorite. “They’re all pretty good for what they are, but I think you should go with the sequel, yeah. You already have an idea of the characters, so you don’t have to pay too close attention and can get your homework done.” 

While Steve was checking his watch and probably wishing for his shift to be over, Eddie was dragging his heels. He was surprised to find he would’ve been okay hearing Steve talk more about movies. He didn’t sound particularly passionate about horror. It made Eddie wonder what he did like. Probably some predictable slapstick with lots of boobs, like Porky’s. 

“Joy,” he replied, thinking of his homework waiting for him and almost letting out a whine. 

Steve grabbed the movie off the shelf and headed towards the counter so he could get Eddie checked out. 

“Guess that’s that,” Eddie added in a mutter Steve couldn’t hear. Eddie followed him, drumming his hands on the countertop as Steve pulled up his account and started typing away.

It was best that Eddie left before he decided to do something like lean in and smell the guy on purpose this time.    While he waited, he sifted through the snack selections, unsettling all the organized displays. He stuck his hand in one of the round glass jars, dislodging the loosest ring from his finger as he rifled through it for a fistful of fizzy candies. The ring fell to the bottom of the jar, unnoticed by Eddie, who slapped the sweets on the counter. He also grabbed a box of Nerds, a bag of Skittles, and a Big Hunk bar on impulse. Steve smiled a bit because usually, it was only bratty kids begging their moms for candy that got it from them. Steve didn’t mind that Eddie was getting more than the movie. When he saw everything he was getting, though, he couldn’t help but judge some of it. Most of it was the real sugary stuff. The Big Hunk bar was the only thing he could get behind. 

“These are addicting,” Steve said about the Big Hunk bar. He could feel his mouth starting to water just looking at it.

Likes Big Hunk bars. Eddie filed that information away in his head without really knowing why. It wasn't like he’d need to use it later. 

“I'm gonna need a bag,” he informed Steve. These pants did not have usable pockets. 

“Of course.” Steve nodded, swallowing his spit as he started bagging everything up.  

He wondered if Eddie was high. All this candy made him think that he had the munchies or was going to later. Most of the kids at school got their weed from him, so it wasn’t a stretch. 

Ah, he could remember the last time he got caught getting high. His dad had accused him of being on drugs. He could remember just saying he wasn’t and that marijuana wasn’t drugs. That hadn’t gone over well. 

Once everything was rung up, Steve told Eddie the amount, took the cash and got him his change. He handed over the bills and coins and pushed the bag of candy and movie toward him. “Enjoy...” 

“Thanks, big boy,” Eddie said, grabbing the bag with a tongue click and a wink.

He left the store, mouthing big boy? to himself in a split second of internal embarrassment before he shrugged it off and hopped in his van, taking off down the road towards the trailer park.  

Steve’s eyebrows rose and then furrowed. A shiver ran through his body like an electric shock, unsure what that was about or what caused that reaction in him. 

Slowly, he realized. Maybe there was a reason he’d never seen a girl on Eddie’s arm.

Steve stood there for a few minutes, perplexed by what had happened, until he snapped out of it and started straightening up the store. There probably wouldn’t be any more customers tonight. While Steve was re-organizing the candy Eddie had disheveled, he saw that one of the jars was low, nearing empty. He grabbed some candy to refill it when something shiny caught his eye. 

He reached in and pulled out a large skull ring. Eddie must’ve left it behind by accident.

Only when Eddie was settled in for the night with his homework open, the movie on, and his candy pile rapidly dwindling did he notice one of his rings missing. 

“Shit,” he swore, looking at his naked finger where a fanged skull used to be. That one had been his favorite. 

He looked around inside the trailer and outside of it with his uncle’s flashlight, but nothing shiny turned up in the beam.

Steve thought about calling Eddie up and letting him know he could come get his ring, but then he put it on and looked it over, smiling. He could totally pull off a ring like this. 

He’d try it out for a day or two, then give it to Dustin to give it back to Eddie when he saw him next. They were good friends now, to Steve's dismay. He wasn't jealous of anything. 

Eddie didn't seem too bad... for a freak.  

[made-ofmemories]

When Life Tears You Asunder, But You’re Not Alone

(Chapter 14/18)

General Warnings/tags: Found family, implied Wayne/Susan in future chapters, Max & Eddie have a sibling like relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, Lumax and Steddie make appearances throughout the chapters but the primary focus is on the familial bonds between characters

Chapter specific warnings/tags: Band practice with the rest of corroded coffin and some more found family content between Susan, Max, Eddie and Wayne

Word count: 1391

Summary: Billy was a pretty shitty brother, there was no denying it, but Max still finds herself mourning for the sibling relationship they never got to have. With him gone she thinks so are her chances of ever having the big brother figure she’s always wanted. Then in a turn of events that she never saw coming, Eddie Munson waltzes into her life. Or more like, almost runs her over.

Notes:. Co-written with the wonderful @ladydorian05 and crossposted on AO3. Updates every Friday.

Series masterlist

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Max had told Eddie not to bother picking her up from school later that day. It wasn’t unusual, sometimes she had plans with Lucas, was sleeping over at El’s, or just wanted to hang out with her friends. She was more than capable of making her own way home on occasion.

What is unusual is Eddie walking into Gareth's garage, guitar in hand, and finding Max seated behind the drum kit. Gareth is standing beside her whilst Jeff and Carl stand at opposite sides of the drums, their attention on Max.

“Well, well.” Eddie says in that loud dramatic tone of voice he usually reserves for D&D campaigns or speeches given atop cafeteria tables, “What’re the chances of seeing you here, red?”

4 heads whip around to look at Eddie as he makes his entrance. Carl flinches a little at his sudden loud voice, Jeff shakes his head, meanwhile, Gareth and Max are wearing matching unamused expressions.

“Gareth said it was ok.” Max explains “His mom picked us up.”

Of course it was Gareth’s idea, he and Max are the only ones who’d ever dream of crashing band-practice like this knowing they’d actually get away with it. Gareth and Max are friends now, after she started eating lunch with the hellfire club most days their paths had been bound to cross at some point. It wasn’t odd that they hung out sometimes, but Max had never attended band practice.

“You should hear her play. She’s a natural.” Gareth chimes in and it’s followed up by a chorus of overlapping chatter from Jeff and Carl agreeing and Max hissing at them to stop.

“They’re overexaggerating.” Max insists, “Gareth taught me a little while we waited for you to show up.”

“Well… what’re you waiting for, show us what you got,” Eddie says, bending at the waist and giving a sweeping gesture towards the drum kit.

Max lets out a long exhale then picks up the sticks which had been set aside atop one of the drums and adjusts them in her hands.

“You remember what I showed you?” Gareth asks quietly and Max nods.

“Yeah, I got it.”

It’s not great and she knows that given by the grimace on her face when she misses a beat, but she’s not bad either given that everything she knows has been taught in the past 20 minutes.

“Not bad.” Eddie hums approvingly while Max shares a high five with Gareth then Jeff and Carl.

Despite his best efforts, Eddie had tried and failed to get Max to show any interest in learning how to play guitar. She had heard him play plenty, enjoyed listening to him play even, especially during his recovery from their run-in with Jason when she had refused to leave his side and there wasn’t much else to do except strum away at his beloved guitar and watch movies.

But, beyond a few out-of-tune chords plucked out of one of Eddie’s spare acoustics she’d shown no interest in learning herself. Her face hadn’t lit up like it had when she had gotten behind Gareth's drum kit.

“Better watch out Gareth,” Jeff says as the small group that has gathered around the drum kit dissipates, “You might be training your replacement.”

“Shut up.” Gareth retorts, unoffended and used to the friendly teasing at this point, “You’d all be lost without me.”

Carl snickers followed by a sarcastic “You wish.”

“Alright, enough.” Eddie’s voice cuts through the chatter and laughter. He stands impatiently in front of the group, his guitar set up and ready to go in the time they had spent bickering between themselves, “Are we going to play or what?”

After the Jason incident, he hadn’t been able to make it to the past 2 practice sessions and he’s eager to get started. Max takes a seat off to the side, all too happy to be their audience for the night.

They make it through a cover and an original song before Eddie calls for a break.

“You ok?” Max asks, tossing him a bottle of water as he makes his way over to her.

“Yeah I’m good, ‘nother headache.” He explains before gulping down a quarter of the bottle, “Doc said they might last a few weeks, Harrington said they never really go away, but then again he’s had more than one concussion.”

“Wanna leave? I can call Steve to come pick us up if you don’t want to drive, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“Nah, just need a minute.” He takes another long swig from the bottled water, it doesn’t help much, “Practice probably won’t last much longer anyway. Gareth has plans.”

“He does?” She asks, curiosity piqued, “He didn’t mention anything.”

Eddie nods then winces, immediately regretting the movement, “He’s hanging out with Will. He doesn’t know I know.” He lowers his voice slightly, though he doesn’t think the others are paying attention anyway.

“Will?” She questions, her brow furrowing for a moment before her expression slowly starts to soften the more she considers it, “Oh.”

Eddie chuckles at her realization, “Yeah, surprised me at first, but” he shrugs, “I’ve never seen Gareth like this over someone… ever.”

“They’re always together at school, it makes sense.” She agrees, sounding a little shocked that she’d never noticed it before now, “and anything is better than watching Will pining over Mike.”

“To think that they could have had something if Mike wasn’t in so much denial.”

“You two done gossiping?” Jeff calls interrupting their conversation and supported by the indeterminate grumbling of Gareth and Carl.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Eddie calls back, brushing them off with a wave of his hand.

“Got any requests?” He asks Max as he takes a few steps back toward the rest of his band.

“Rainbow in the dark?” She asks with a hopeful smile.

He’d let her borrow some of his Dio cassettes a few days ago in exchange for the return of yet another black sabbath album which she had ‘borrowed’, apparently they’d gone down well.

He considers it for a moment, not something they usually play, but, “Yeah? I’ll see what we can do.”

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

They find Wayne and Susan sitting on the couch outside the Munsons trailer, cigarettes in hand and laughing, their own version of hanging out. Max is glad her mom has someone, a fellow adult, she can rely on. Someone she can talk to.

"Kids! Dinners ready, we were waiting for you to get back before we eat ." Susan says, snuffing out her cigarette on the ashtray between her and Wayne as Max and Eddie approach them. "No canned soup this time, made my chicken casserole."

"And I picked up some donuts from the bakery for dessert." Wayne says standing up from the couch and stretching his back.

“Chocolate covered?” Max asks with a raised eyebrow.

“That’s right.”

“Awesome!”

It’d become somewhat of a tradition, at least a few days a week or whenever Wayne was able to get a day off work the 4 of them would have dinner together. Sometimes it was in their trailer, sometimes at the Munsons.

“How was school today, Max?” Wayne asks, holding the door open whilst everyone makes their way inside and making sure it closes behind them when he follows Max in.

“Good. We used the lab today, mixed some interesting chemicals to make some foam and a guy got scolded for trying to eat it.” Wayne chuckles at her description and she continues, “Oh! And after Gareth taught me how to play a part of a song on his drums!”

“Sounds like you found your instrument.” He says, ruffling her hair the same way she’s seen him do to Eddie countless times, as he moves past her and into the kitchen.

“Yup, I’ll leave the guitar to Eddie.”

“Eddie, honey” Susan calls from her place by the stove where she’s stirring the food inside the casserole. “Could you please get the bowls out while I reheat the food?”

“Sure, Mrs. Har-” Susan raises an eyebrow at his almost slip, an expression he’s seen many times before on Max’s face, “Susan. I’ll get them.”

“Thank you.”

They sit in the living room together watching Jeopardy! And having fun trying to guess the answers of the show. Max likes this, it truly feels like having the family she always wished for.

[puppybearuniverse]

your doors were always open. the house was always warm.

your cats were always friendly, all named after sandwiches. soft and flea ridden angels.

we collected them for the night, making sure none were under the oven, when their mom was out on the prowl.

we played VR in your kitchen, the same kitchen every birthday party i felt included in was held.

i could throw a ball for the robot dog, and it was the most novel thing. days turned into nights in a second. i hated having to go home.

the first time I played rock band was in your living room. i wonder if you know how that changed me as a person. playing music and singing with your family made me feel like i belonged.

not to mention my music taste. i wouldn't be half of who i was if not for those nights, and your dad pulling me aside, talking to me about the smashing pumpkins and how they inspired every band i loved.

i played sims 3 at your house because we couldn't afford it. i was amazed that my sim could have the hair of my dreams. i still remember her. i can't imagine you would.

you slept in every room over the years. when i met you it was the attic. then when you finally got a room downstairs, you were so excited. you painted the walls such a beautiful chevron, blue and brown. do you remember playing speech jammer? i think we were already drifting apart by then. i missed you even then.

one night i slept on your couch. i woke up to your cat on my face.

do you remember when annie ran away from home? she never met you, not that i knew of - but she ran right to your house, jumped on your couch like she belonged. i think she knew that was the only place i ever felt at home, and she knew i would find her there.

your mom tried to teach me so many crafts. i wish i listened. i sold crappy little duct tape bows with you at some booth. your mom was so patient with me.

when i fucked up, she put me in line. i never knew how much my actions hurt the people around me - but she let me know. i still remember that day at the fair, when i thought i was being funny but i was just stressing everyone out. do you remember Madison? i think i was the reason she stopped talking to you. im sorry.

we could have been kinder to each other. high school did a number on us. our history teacher said no friendship survived highschool, and we laughed. i dont think its so funny anymore.

you were loved. by everyone. by your parents, by our teachers, by our friends. you were who i was, but better. i wanted to be you so badly. i wanted what you had. it made me jealous, it made me angry, but i never had the words.

your mom supported your love of the theater. sometimes i regret encouraging you to pick it up. you were better than me at everything, and i never understood why. i still have trouble sometimes. and when you were in the little mermaid, i couldn't be as happy for you as a best friend should have.

one day in class, Angela asked if we even like each other. neither of us hesitated. the agreement was immediate. we joked about it before, but that time was different. that time it was real and we both knew it.

we were rehearsing our lines, that little script. an automatic something or other, in the little pink books our drama teacher gave us. i was the robot and you were the human, calling me for one reason or another. i was being an asshole. I can't remember why. and we agreed to practice our lines away from one another. if i could redo it, i would have been better. i mean it. i wouldn't have taken that tone. i wouldn't have snapped the way i did. i wouldn't have let you walk away.

i still miss you. i miss all of you. i miss your brother and your cousin and our history teacher's son. i miss your dad and the way he tried to get through to me. i always wanted a dad like him. i miss your sister and her love of SpongeBob, something i had never seen my passion for matched. i miss her dark jokes about bombs at eight years old.

and i miss you. god, i miss you so much. i have your husband's autograph someplace. that feels so weird to say. when we were young and foolish and i saw him in the play, i got him to sign my little playbill. i felt like he was going to do great things. and he did. he treated you right. you deserve all the love he gives you.

i should have been a better friend. god. you showed me teenagers one night at a sleepover and i was so scared. i watched grease under your covers as we fell asleep. we watched dan and phil too late into the night, we listened to the same music, you showed me how to be who i wanted to be. and i treated you like dirt.

I don't remember that last day we hung out very well, years later. i remember feeling sheepish walking through your house. i remember your brother doing a double take when he saw me in your room. "been a while," he said. it had been. i remember you wrote a poem for me. i wish i remembered what it said. i guess this is my response, years after even that.

we're 22. your birthday was may 9th, like it was every year. every year i want to tell you i love you, i miss you, im sorry. but it's been too long. we were 14 eight years ago. oh god. your sister is 20. jay is the same age as my fiance. the years keep passing and i keep missing you. i keep missing you. i keep missing you.

forensic anthropology at Berkeley college. i still remember that being your dream. last i heard you were dazzling people up in new york. i wish i had your drive, your joie de vivre. even today i hold jealousy, jealousy and regret. messaging you would only be for myself and bring you down - you have a new life now. but i remember. every goddamned day i remember. i can't remember what i did yesterday but i remember you. i remember you.

i saw your house on zillow a few years back. i walked through every room and remembered. all i do is remember. all i can do is remember.

yesterday i saw a house for sale. it was on a street the same name as your grandparents. did they live there? was that where your cousins grew up? where are they now? where are you now?

we're friends on some app. did you even know who i was? did you ever know me as who i am today? i saw you listening to weezer the other day. do you remember when we walked down the street, singing the sweater song at the top of our lungs? full of joy and invincible. the world at our back. it's better you don't see the way I'm running just to keep your back in view.

i see you in everything. it fills me with longing. i wish i had the chance to try again. i wish i did things differently. you deserved a better friend than me. but i wish it back. i wish it back so often.

lets be friends and just walk away.

[epacer]

Classmates

Doug Robinson, Class of 1973

Here's My Story

I was raised on Art Street--there's a good start in life.

My folks were loving and unusual people. My older brother Andy was a neighborhood rockstar and my hero. There was always music in our house because Dad owned a couple of bars in downtown San Diego and he was always testing out new 45s to see which ones would end up in his jukeboxes. So Andy I and got our fill of Marty Robbins, Ray Stevens, Ray Charles and then later The Beatles, The Beach Boys, The Kinks, Herman's Hermits and everything else that was happening at the time.

I started piano lessons at nine years old; Andy was already drumming in a rock band and I was learning drums from him as well. As it turned out, I developed a knack for picking up a new instrument and sounding better than horrible pretty quickly, eventually learning guitar, bass, vibes and of course piano and drums. My teacher, the lovably ancient Mrs. Foote (who would sit in my lessons with her Pekingese tucked under her arm while she wept loudly at how "beee-uuutifuly" I was playing) was less encouraging about my original compositions which began to emerge. (To all the parents out there--if your kid starts composing at nine, give her some room to develop those skills. She can always go back to practicing the Bach and Beethoven later.)

Frustrated, I quit taking piano lessons and started to practice on my own for hours every day. My first band experiences, though, were as a drummer. There were lots of rehearsals with groups like Bass Four, The Shylords, Kong and other '60s garage bands. I was a rocker for certain, although I did listen to Ahmad Jamal's beautiful version of "Poinsettia" over and over to try to figure out what was going on.

One day when I was probably 12, a young kid came up to me and asked if I wanted to sub for his jazz band's drummer. He twisted my arm by promising a payday of $5 or $10 for the gig, and the next thing I knew I was sitting in a rehearsal with four supremely talented young players: Nathan East on acoustic bass, Carl Evans Jr on piano, Hollis Gentry lll on sax and Casper Glenn on sax. It was the first time in my life that I'd even been the only white guy in the room, but I remember choosing not to feel intimidated. In fact, the vibe was so friendly and the laughter came so easily during setup that I had completely forgotten to panic about the fact that i knew NOTHING about jazz until Hollis--a handsome kid of about 14 with the poise and voice of an adult--called out the first tune (The Creator, by Pharoah Sanders). When I asked what I should play, Hollis grinned and said cooly "This is jazz, man--just play what you feel."

He didn't know it, but that comment probably jumpstarted my puberty and changed my musical life forever. We became a unit that served as the core group of the award-winning Crawford High School Stage Band, the Crawford Pep band and off-campus music groups like The Chapparells and Solid State. Jazz became the music of my heart, even though I never abandoned any of the other styles. They just slid over to the side and waited for their chance.

After focusing on the drums for most of my early teens, I was  eager to explore my piano-based compositions which were heavily influenced by Randy Newman and Rupert Holmes as well as the progressive rock of ELP, Frank Zappa and then Mahavishnu Orchestra and early Weather Report. Luckily for me, I wandered into the Crawford Choir room at lunch time (where I would normally compose instead of hanging out in the quad) and I heard someone playing piano in more or less my own jazz-rock style. To my shock, it was Keith Milne, a senior and athletic star on campus. I'd always figured him as a total square, but within minutes we were sitting side by side and composing the first of several wonderful melodies which were later brought to life by our excellent band The Twinkies, which also featured Cory Homnick and Paul Sundfor on sax, clarinet and flute; John Marotti on trumpet and flute; Mike Rios on bass; John Frawley on guitar and Gary Irvine on drums. Keith and I alternated on Hammond B3 and piano, and we built a nice reputation for ourselves in the San Diego area, appearing several times at SDSU's The Back Door, a folk club.

All along, I'd been volunteering my time at the San Diego branch of Synanon, an innovative drug rehab program that was blossoming into an intentional community where ex-addicts lived side by side with 'squares' like myself. I learned how to communicate effectively and to be empathetic with people from radically different walks of life. it was brilliant, eye-opening stuff and I used those skills with all of my relationships...and still do today, when I'm on my best behavior. In Synanon, I met lots of incredible musicians but none so important to me as Frank Rehak (frankrehak.com), a trombone legend who had played with Miles Davis, Dizzy Gillespie and others, even though his terrible heroin addiction kept him from achieving fame outside of the music world. He took an interest in me and my music, and when I decided to move into Synanon full-time with the plan to teach music in their kibbutz-style school, he laid out a 40 hour weekly music program for my own education, along with pianist and wicked Zen master Al Bauman.

I could not have had a more exciting or fulfilling couple of decades. Frank and I became great friends, and through him I met David Scott, Bruce Gilbert, Doug Hurt, Ken Elias, Wendell Stamps, and other amazing musicians who held down a chair from time to time in the 'house' band known as The Sounds of Synanon. We played jazz festivals and college concerts as well as doing recruiting tours in prisons and juvenile camps where the audience was exposed to the success stories of the guys in the band, mostly ex-addicts themselves. I learned to be a radio personality from the one and only Dan Sorkin; I learned sales and creative marketing through our in-house business that came to be known as AdGap (Advertising Gifts and Premiums). I also fell in love a few times, with my longest relationship being the special union between Glenda Alice Garrett and myself.

We survived the eventual death of the community, plugging onward with other ex-residents who were part of AdGap which became a standalone integrated marketing company. For over a decade, Glenda and I traveled to work with clients around the country but most often with our friends at Abbott Laboratories who time after time risked ridicule and embarrassment by choosing our promotional campaigns over those of competitors who were far more qualified on paper. But as it turned out, our common sense and irreverent brand of marketing did the job for them and we succeeded beyond our wildest dreams--thanks in part to our talented colleagues, our wonderful assistants Sande Millstein and Judy Malcolm, and our fearless leadership team of Brooks Carder and Macyl Burke.

We were fortunate beyond belief, retiring in 2001. Returning to San Diego to spend time with my mom after my dad had died, we set up life in the hills of Escondido and it was good...but something was missing. I had a marvelous trio--JAZZOOO, with Duncan Moore and Ken Dow--but those moments onstage and in the studio weren't really enough to keep a couple of ex-revolutionaries like Glenda and me excited.

We found what we were looking for when we went to central Mexico to visit an old friend from our community, Mayer Shacter. We discovered San Miguel de Allende, an arts-oriented colonial town in the middle of the country. Amazing musicians, artists, writers and other creative types had all made the decision to live 8 hours from the beach, 90 minutes from an airport, and light years away from the kind of convenience we had taken for granted our entire lives as residents of the US. We built our new lives in Mexico, producing fundraising events, concerts, parties, contributing to college funds for under-priviledged kids, teaching, building a dream house and studio. And we also battled breast cancer, which brought us back to the US for a full nine months of treatment. Thanks to the tender loving care of our Synanon friends, along with the loving and professional wisdom of our dear friend Jaime Aguet--we conquered that challenge. But a couple of years later, our marriage ended. We both found true love again, but sadly Glenda's cancer returned with a vengeance and she passed away in January of 2015.

Life goes on, if we're lucky. Today I am back in San Miguel de Allende and facing each day as the first day of the rest of my life. Up till lockdown, I produced concerts, played gigs, taught a little and composed and recorded new music at a pretty healthy clip. My 2019 release is called HYMN FOR HER and it's dedicated to all of the amazing women who have shaped and guided me with their feminine energy and love throughout my life. My 2020 release is START WITH WATER.

Things are starting back up now as of September 2022--new shows, new music, new life! *Reposted bio from Doug Robinson in his own words posted on dougrobinson.com website.

[junisfics]

All This Time — Armin Arlert (1)

series masterlist

Pairing: Armin Arlert x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Series Summary: Reader messages her best friend Armin late one night while she's drunk and needy, but will she remember the things she said to him in the morning, and if she does... will she regret it?

Part Summary: After Armin receives a disturbingly vague message from his best friend, he shows up to her house only to find her drunk and needy

Content: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut

Content Warnings: Sexual Content, Mentions of Masturbation, Sexual Fantasies

You met Armin in your freshman year of high school. You had gone to separate middle schools, but those two schools fed into your then high school and you became classmates. You shared a band class together, Armin played clarinet and you played the piano. The entire band was split between two periods, you and Armin’s seventh period consisted of woodwinds while the other period held brass… percussion was split evenly between the two periods. 

That was the first game of chance.

The second one was after-school practice sessions with Mr. Steunberg. Apparently, Armin was struggling with sight-reading just as much as you were, so you were paired together for practice lessons on Mondays. And every Monday for the second semester of freshman year, you and Armin played your instruments in that little sound booth while your music teacher corrected you from outside.

Eventually, the twenty minutes between the end of school and the beginning of lessons was being shared between the two of you rather than each of you hiding off down some hallway. You had decided to come down the band hall early, conveniently at the same time Armin had as well. 

It started with one of you asking if the other had a certain teacher, followed by asking if they had completed the night’s assignment for that class. Over time, the floor distance between you two closed and you’d sit cross-legged on the carpeted floor just outside the booth, knee to knee, sharing snacks before Mr. Steunberg made his way from his History class and down to the band hall. You’d work on homework together and laugh over the squeaking mistakes from the neighboring booths.

Just around the time when you and Armin began to grow comfortable with each other, your organized lessons had stopped and your blooming friendship had been put on pause. Neither of you missed it too much, you barely knew each other, but you still smiled at each other in the halls and occasionally talked before your shared class if there was time, but there really wasn’t.

It was like that for a while; little waves, sentence-long conversations, awkward silences followed by equally as awkward good-byes. It was months before you ever talked the same way you had in that little hallway.

It wasn’t like you craved his presence. Christ, you would completely forget about him if you didn’t see him every day in class. But when he came up to you at the end of the day one day while you were sitting on the piano bench, waiting for the final bell to ring, you couldn’t help but smile.

You still remember the shirt he was wearing, how he pushed those thin-rimmed glasses he still wore up his nose as he talked with you, “Can you help me with sight-reading? I don’t wanna tell my mom I need lessons again and I’m embarrassed to ask anyone else.”

Of course, you had said yes to him, you wouldn’t be pulling your phone out in the middle of the night in the peak of summer to text him while you’re shit-faced to text him if you hadn’t.

Your practicing together turned into practicing and doing homework together, which turned into getting off track and watching YouTube videos together. Then came the hanging out outside of homework and lessons; goofing off at either of your neighborhood parks, walking down the road to get fast-food, running around in a grocery store because there was nothing else to do in the suburbs.

There wasn’t an exact moment where you agreed that you were best friends, it just happened. You were always there for him whenever he got pushed around by the baseball boys, when his parents got divorced and his grandfather moved in, when he got his acceptance letter to the college of his choice; and he was there for you for your first boyfriend and your first heartbreak, he was there when your dog was lost for five days… he being the one that found her, and when you got your acceptance letter, he was the one sitting next to you with open arms.

There were moments when you found yourselves distancing; when you got into little arguments. But at the end of the day, the love that each of you had for each other was stronger than anything. You always came back to him, and he to you. 

No matter how many times you broke his heart by flirting with him just to hook up with some random guy at a party the same day, told him that he was your ‘best friend’, talking about how he was ‘like a brother’ to you, he couldn't leave you and he couldn’t stop loving you.

Armin would do anything for you and you would do anything for Armin. This is why when he got your messages in the dead of the night, he was over to your apartment before he could even text back.

‘armin’ ‘come over’ ‘help’ ‘need help’

Every second between the moment he got your messages until he reached your door, he was mortified. His heart was pounding out of his chest, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering while swerving around corners recklessly, eyes flitting over your parking lot to try and find anything out of the ordinary.

He almost tripped on the curb of the sidewalk while running up to your building. He was whipping open doors and frantically pressing elevator buttons as his keys still jangled in his hands, he didn’t even think to shove them into his pockets. His eyes bore into the red, electric lettering at the frame of the elevator, watching the numbers increase with his hand pressing against the metal doors like it’ll somehow make it go faster.

Once he reaches your door, he knocks frantically, jolts of pain shooting through his knuckles as he does so.

And you’re right at the door waiting for him. You tug it open the second you hear him outside of it, a giant smile of relief on your face.

“Oh my god! Thank god you’re here! I was going to pass out from waiting so long,” You giggle, grabbing ahold of his forearm that was still outstretched from knocking and pulling him inside.

It took him a moment to realize that you’re alright, that you’re standing right there in front of him, unharmed and unscathed, with his sweatshirt pulled over you, the one he gave you before leaving for university. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet as you grab at his arms to bring him forward, stumbling back over your own feet in the process which just sends you into another fit of giggles.

You had a slight sheen of sweat over your face and neck, not a lot, just enough so when your head turned to look behind you the kitchen lights bounced against the gloss on your skin. You didn’t have pants on as well, just these light grey boy-short panties that completely exposed the length of your legs.

It wasn’t like Armin hasn’t seen you in a swimsuit before. Many times your parents had taken you on trips to a lake where you would go tubing and swimming for hours on end until you were both drained of all your energy. But seeing you in, presumably, nothing but his sweatshirt and panties that bared your thighs and bottom curves of your ass had him far more flabbergasted than a swimsuit ever could.

“You’re — you’re okay?” He asks, voice still wavering with concern as you continue to drag him towards the kitchen.

“Absolutely not!” You sound serious, “I need help… with making my dessert.” Your faux serious tone falls apart and you’re choking back another wave of laughter.

Armin watches you incredulously but intently as you slide your hands down his forearms until both of your hands meet his own, giving them a squeeze before spinning around and gripping the kitchen island’s counter.

You have an array of stainless steel bowls crowded beside each other while a mixture of dry baking goods sits unstirred in one of the bowls. You shuffle through the measuring cups and spoons before picking up a large wooden spoon and holding it up to Armin, presenting it to him, like you’ve found a block of gold.

When you turn away from him, he looks over the state of the kitchen. Sugar and flour remnants cover the countertops, series of baking instruments litter them as well, and on the kitchen table is a bottle of vodka.

And then it hits him; you’re playful nature, unpredictability, clumsiness, and intimacy.

“Are you drunk?” He asks you. He isn’t disappointed, or angry, just slightly taken aback.

You bring your head up from the bowl and tilt your head side to side like you were thinking over his question, “A little.”

It was much more than ‘a little’. Before you had even started drinking you were in a playful mood. You had just gotten the offer for a summer job for lifeguarding at the apartment complex’s pool and you thought to celebrate by binging your favorite television show and having a few shots. Then, a few shots turned to many and you were dancing around your living room while having the time of your life before you had settled on making yourself some food. ‘Another celebration’ you had convinced yourself.

But the measuring and the mixing were too hard and who else was there to call other than your best friend?

“Oh my god.” Armin smiles, shaking his head at you and making his way towards you as you continue to mix at god-knows-what you’ve put into that bowl, “You need actual food, not whatever you’re making here.”

You let go of the spoon, letting out a little huff of frustration at his words, scrunching your nose real cutely as you turn towards him. You take the front of his tee-shirt in your hands, gently fiddling with the fabric as you pout.

“I want dessert, Armin.” You whine, bringing your head forward to rest your cheek on his chest. Your chest was pressing against his torso, bare legs knocking against his own.

“’Tomorrow-You’ is going to thank me for not letting you have dessert.” He awkwardly brings one of his hands to your back, patting it a few times before letting his hand rest between your shoulder blades.

“Please?” You whisper, tilting your head up until he can feel your tiny breaths against his chin. Armin hopes you can’t feel the way his heartbeat begins to pick up in his chest at your close proximity.

“No… No, I’ll — I’ll make you toast or something, how does that sound?” He suggests, snaking his hands between the two of you to gently nudge you off him.

But the space between the two of you is quickly closed when your slide your hands up his chest and around his neck, “Don’t want toast.” You murmur, standing up on the tips of your toes to get in his eye-line. Your nose was only a breath away from his.

Armin carefully takes your wrists in his hands, taking your arms off him as he stammers out, “Well, you’re going to have toast.”

You let out another noise of frustration as you pull yourself away from him, your hands balling into fists at your sides while he pulls open your fridge for the loaf of bread on the top shelf. You watch him with your head tilted in fascination like you’ve never seen bread before, admiring the way his hair falls into his eyes as his pretty hands unwrap the plastic sleeve of the loaf then tug the toaster away from the counter backsplash.

He truly was so beautiful. You always contained your attraction towards him so well, but now your restraint was slipping.

You prance over to him, slipping your arms around his waist and resting your head against his back as he slides two slices of bread from the loaf. His skin is so warm beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders and back flex as he moves his arms, his abdominal muscles twitching as well in reaction to your fingertips skimming over them.

God, he’s so fucking nervous. 

Why is he so nervous? 

Because you’re all over him in just panties and his shirt when he’s had a crush on you for as long as he can remember. You’re being so touchy, so intimate with him, he’s afraid he might explode.

“Go sit down. Can’t — can’t help you if you’re in my way.” He says. Oh but he could help you, he could help you even if you were hanging on him like a spider monkey, he’s just afraid you’ll realize your effect on him if you do so.

“I just wanna be close to you. You’re so cute.” You nuzzle your head under his left arm until you and slip your whole body under it and stand ever so slightly in front of him, wedged between his torso and the countertop.

Your hands play with the hem of his shirt as you look up to him, your eyes glossy, and your pupils were blown. Armin tries his best to keep himself subtly distanced from you, but it’s no use. Every time he inches away, you’re just back on him. 

You’re sliding your hands up his chest, fingers tracing over his jaw and cheekbones as you cling to his side. He can feel your hips knocking against his, your thighs rubbing against his as you shift around to try and get closer. Your fingers follow along the curves of his neck, tracing down his throat then skimming over his collarbones.

“Sit here then. Sit on the counter.” Armin grabs ahold of your torso and pushes you against the counter, the edge of it rutting into the small of your back. You grab ahold of his biceps and let out a flirty little giggle at what his actions could be insinuating.

Your fingers press into the plush muscle of his arms as he strains to lift you, your heels grappling at the cabinets below you to try and aid him. His waist ends up slipped between your knees when you’re finally seated, and you can feel your body flush hot with arousal.

You were already sweating from the exertion you had put forward before he had arrived, but the added closeness with Armin was just driving you crazy.

“Now sit, and stay.” Armin places his hands in front of you to enforce his directions.

You giggle a few times, smiling at the fact that he’s treating you like a dog, “Woof.” 

Armin slips his waist out from your knees to come to your left slide, plucking the now toasted bread from the toaster and setting it on a napkin. He pulls open the drawer to his right for a butter knife, then snatches the butter from the island and brings it to your toast. 

His hands shake as he pulls the glass top of the butter dish, they shake as he dips the knife into the butter, and continues to shake as he spreads the butter over the first piece of toast. He can feel your thigh brushing against his hip as you swing your legs.

You begin to breathe heavier, the heat of exhaustion and heat of arousal begin to grow overwhelming. You fan your face a few times, pushing your hair off your neck, before grabbing the hem of his sweatshirt and pulling it up and over your head.

“What — what are you doing?” Armin stammers, taking a tiny step away from you.

You absentmindedly fold the sweatshirt before setting it aside to fan your face again, “It’s so hot… I think it’s you, Armin.”

You can see his face flush red this time, his ears as well, turning his cheeks and nose a pretty pink shade that doesn’t help your problem.

Armin tries to ignore you, he really does, but it’s so difficult because now you’re in this skimpy little tank top with spaghetti straps. And the straps are slipping off your shoulders and Jesus fucking christ you’re not wearing a bra. He can’t stop his eyes from flitting over your scantily clad figure, drinking in the way your thighs squish against the counter, the curve of your ass as it’s pressed to the granite, the way your nipples tease the thin fabric of your skin.

“Have I ever told you that? That you’re so fine?” You giggle, running a finger down his bicep as he finishes buttering your toast. You’re so grateful that he’s got that stupid white tee shirt on, the one that keeps your gaze lingering over the lean muscle in his chest and back.

“Um, n — no. Toast is done, hop down.” He refuses to make eye contact because if he does, he’s scared he won’t be able to stop himself from kissing you.

“Help.” You pout, reaching out your hands and grabbing for his shoulders.

Armin listens to your plea, setting the toast back down and grabbing ahold of your waist to slide you off the counter. But instead of bringing your feet to the floor, you wrap your legs around his waist and hook your arms around his neck. You have to tilt your head down to look into his eyes, only to see his pupils blown and lashes fluttering as he blinks.  He doesn’t push you off him. Instead, he uses his left hand to snatch the food off the counter while his right hand comes to brace your lower back. 

He’s afraid he’s going to have a heart attack now; feeling your thighs wrapped around him, your cunt hovering just right over his growing cock, your back arching your chest so close to his face that he swears if he looked down he would get a perfect view of your tits, your parted lips all glossy, breath fanning over the bridge of his nose as you run your fingers over the curves of his pretty pink lips.

Fuck. He was definitely getting off to this later.

You’re giggling all the while, and to an extent, you know exactly the effect you have on him. It’s cute, the way he stumbles around your house and trying to keep his footing as he brings you to your bedroom. 

“C’mon, Armin. At least take me on a date first,” You tease as he kneels down to bring your backside to the foot of the bed. Once your legs release his waist, he stands again.

“I’m — I’m not trying — we’re not —” He stutters, bringing his hands forward again like he’s scared you’ll pounce on him.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to. Armin wants nothing more in the entire world than to have you beneath him, to have his cock sheathed inside you, to have you moan out his name as you cum around his cock…

But he couldn’t let it happen like this.

You were drunk, so so drunk. And you probably didn’t even know what you were saying.

“We can if you want to.” You speak softly, your knees knocking together as you settle into your seat, fiddling with your hands in your lap as if you got all shy all of a sudden.

And when you look up to him through your lashes, brows furrowed slightly in a pout, Armin almost caves. But he catches himself just as fast, shoving your toast in front of you like it’s a shield.

Your eyes shift down to the food that’s presented before you, and your pout turns into a cute little smile as you daintily take it from his hands. You let the napkin rest in your left palm as you hold the food in your right, immediately taking a little bite out of it.

“You want some water?” Armin asks, still standing in front of you.

You give him a nod without looking up, taking another bite out of the toast while he fills up the cup that he knew rested beside your bathroom sink. As he stands in front of the mirror he takes a moment to breathe in and out deeply as the water fills the cup.

You were going to be the death of him.

“You know, I mean it when I say you’re attractive,” He hears you say, still sitting all obediently on your bed and waiting for him to return, “Everyone’s like, ‘oh Armin got so hot!’, but I always thought you were cute… you just got so — nnghh — in the past year.”

He returns with your glass of water, holding it out to you as you finish chewing. You take it from him gently, holding it in both your hands, careful not to drop it, as you take little sips.

He knew you were being irrational, but he truly hopes you mean what you say.

When you finish drinking, you pat your hand against the mattress as you set your cup to the floor. You want him close again, want the warmth he radiates both physically and spiritually. Armin listens to your ask and sits beside you carefully, running his hands over his thighs as you pull your legs up on the mattress and cross them under you.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” You ask, voice getting tiny again.

That was real… that question… he’s so sure of it. You were always insecure about your looks when you had no reason to be, but he had no idea that you cared what he thought about you.

“I — um… I — I don’t think my — my opinion matt —” He tries to get it to come out sounding right, but the moment he opens his mouth he already knows he’s failed terribly.

“Do… do you not think I’m pretty?” He can hear the feeling of betrayal in your voice, you turn your head away from him.

“No! No, y/n, I think you’re really pretty —”

You grab ahold of his shirt collar and tug him towards you as you let your back fall to the mattress. His torso comes over you and his hand shoots out beside your head to keep him from falling atop you. He can’t even bring himself to pull off of you, because your noses are touching and he can feel your knees knocking against the left side of his waist.

“I — you’re — God, y/n you’re so pretty. Don’t ever think I don’t think that.” He breathes, trying so hard to your lips from touching, for his own sake.

Your mouth splits into a smile and a little laugh escapes your lips. Your free hand grabs ahold of his shirt as well, assuring both you and him that he isn’t going anywhere. You look down to his lips, slightly parted as he pants heavily to keep his composure.

“No, but you don’t understand,” You keep your eyes on his lips, fighting the desire to kiss him, “You’re so fucking hot.”

Armin’s breath gets caught in his throat because you had spoken that in a borderline whimper. Your bottom lip had been taken between your teeth after you finished speaking, and he swears he could see your back arch slightly.

It was completely visible now, how much you needed him. You were holding onto him for dear life, your thighs were squeezing together and your arched back had your stomach brushing against his. You looked at him through half-lidded eyes, irises filled with lust and hunger.

Armin’s so grateful that your legs are to his side and now wrapped around his waist again because he would not have been able to stop himself from grinding down against you… it would have been completely involuntary.

“And — and don’t tell anyone this but sometimes… sometimes I get off to you,” You bring your voice to a whisper as you reveal your secret, lifting your head to move closer to him. He can feel your lips brush against his as you speak, “Actually... like all the time.”

Armin lets out an audible exhale, his jaw slacking at your revelation, he has to shut his eyes again.

“Do you get off to me too?” You ask. And you speak like you didn’t just reveal that to him, bringing your head back down to the mattress and smiling.

Of course he does. Of course he does. 

Junior year of high school you offered to be his first kiss, just for fun, ‘cause you were friends, right? And you wanted to help him get it over with. 

But every night since then, Armin has gotten off to you; laid back in his bed with his cock in his fist, and whispering your name as he cums.

“I — we’re best friends — y/n, I —”

“Best friends don’t wanna fuck each other, Armin.” You say, your voice losing all its playfulness and growing serious like you had suddenly become sober.

You stare into his pretty blue eyes for a moment, letting your own flit between the two of his. You were watching for any change in his expression, any look of disgust or repulsion, but you don’t find any. He just keeps that same incredulous, lust-filled look on his face.

He looks over you as well. Your eyes were still so droopy and hazy, your lips parted like you’re manually breathing. You were so drunk that it almost hurt him. You weren’t going to remember a single thing in the morning, and the two of you would be back to square one because Armin would never be able to repeat to you what you said to him or admit his searing desire for you.

Armin can feel your grip on his shirt tighten once more, and instead of lifting your head to him, you pull him down to you.

“I need you,” You whisper, voice shaking with arousal, “Fuck me... please.”

Armin swallows hard, his arms beginning to shake under his weight. He was going to fucking explode. He needed a break, just a moment, anything so he can catch his breath and regain some of his composure.

Christ, he was so fucking hard. If you were sober, he wouldn’t hesitate for a single second to rip off both of your clothes and push his cock inside you.

“I can’t — you’re drunk,” He murmurs, and you can hear the hurt in his voice. You can hear the fact that he truly wanted to do what you begged him for.

“No, Armin, I want it. I need it. I mean it, I swear.” You plead, your hands pawing at his shirt like he was attempting to get away from you and you wanted him to stay. But Armin was set put, he wasn’t moving, he couldn’t move even if he wanted.

“I need your cock.”

“Not — not now. You need to sleep this off. You’re… you’re not yourself right now,” He takes his eyes off yours, closing them once more and squeezing them shut.

“I’ve — I’ve always wanted you though. Always, I promise.” You continue, hoping that somehow you’ll convince him.

It was true. You wish he could understand how true it was. All the guys you had gotten with after-parties, after football games… they were all just replacements, they were fill-ins for him. You would pretend that it was him that was filling you up, gripping your hips and whispering dirty things against your ear. And for seconds at a time, it would work and you would convince yourself that Armin was right there with you.

And every time you would see him helping another girl with school work, see them flirting with him and getting touchy with him, playing with his glasses or drawing shapes on his hands with a pen… this disgusting feeling would churn around in your stomach and bubble up into your throat. And although Armin was oblivious to their flirting, it still hurt so fucking bad.

“I’ve always wanted you too… just — just not like this. Just sleep it off, okay? And — and then we’ll talk.” His left hand wraps around your waist while his right switches to brace beside your head. He grabs ahold of your torso and shimmies you up the bed until your head meets the pillow.

He sits back on his calves, his left arm sliding out from under you while his right hand brushes your messy hair out of your face before petting your head.

“And, and you’ll fuck me in the morning?” You ask, completely genuine.

Armin swallows hard again, pulling himself away from you and helping you slide your body under your sheets, “If — if you still want me to.”

You look up to him with your eyes full of admiration as he smoothes the sheets over your body, “I’ll always want you to.”

It comes out sounding much more intimate than it actually is to say that ‘you’ll always want Armin to fuck you’. And Armin lets his eyes meet yours again, matching the love that’s filled them.

He smiles to hide the doubt he has inside his chest. In the morning, you’ll either regret every word and ghost him or you’ll forget everything you’ve admitted. Both options made Armin’s heart hurt, but he decides that you leaving him would be the worst of the two. He wouldn’t know what to do if you’d never talk to him again. So for now, he truly hopes you forget.

Armin pulls his hands away from you, shuffling his knees on the bed to get off of it. But before he can bring his feet to the ground, you grab ahold of his wrist.

“Stay, please.” You ask, your eyes struggling to stay open. He wonders if you even know that you’re talking.

He listens to you anyway, bringing his hand down to the mattress as he slips himself under the sheets and next to you. And if he wasn’t sure about staying before, he sure was now because you were so warm and so soft as you shimmied back against him. You take his arm and sling it over your waist, letting his palm splay out over your stomach. You can feel every rise of his chest against your back.

You were going to doze off so easily, he was so warm, he was so comforting. You could feel sleep beginning to creep up on you quickly. But before you let it take over, you slide your hand back and between your bodies to grab the source of the hard thing poking into your ass.

“You’re so hard,” You giggle.

Armin chokes on his breath again and grabs your wrist to pull your hand off his dick, “Stop. Go — go to bed.”

You listen this time, retracting your hand to slip it over his that rests on your stomach, interlacing your fingers as you succumb to your exhaustion.

[godlygreta]

i never stopped loving you | j. kiszka

title | i never stopped loving you

summary | jake and y/n have known each other since grade school, they’ve been neighbors forever. a bit of romance ensues, but ends fairly quickly when complications arise while the boys are touring. a trip home from college ends in a slightly drunk confession.

warnings | some mature themes (bit of sex, but not explicitly), swearing, slight angst

word count | 2.5k+

author’s note | hi! this is the first thing i’ve written for any of the boys, so i hope you enjoy. i’ve written for other bands before, so writing isn’t new to me, but writing for greta is.

“I never stopped loving you.”

It slipped out. It didn’t mean to come out. Jake didn’t necessarily want it to come out. They say drunk words are sober thoughts, right? At the same time, who trusts the words of a drunk person? Usually it’s just brushed off as babbling, but Y/N couldn’t ignore what Jake said. Especially because she couldn’t blame it on not hearing him. There was no music playing outside the bar. The music was faint enough that anything Jake had said was heard.

High school was rough for Y/N with hormones mixed in with academics, horny teenage boys at every turn. Y/N wasn’t even interested in dating, not due to the fact that nobody was necessarily interested in her, but because she was too focused on her studies to even give a damn. School dances were a nice break from academics. There was a shift, though, when one boy in particular would start to really pay attention to her.

Jake Kiszka was charismatic in every sense of the word. Him and his twin brother, Josh, were always the two sweetest, yet most famous troublemakers in all of Frankenmuth High School. It got even worse when their younger brother, Sam, ended up in high school with them as a freshman. Jake had girls wrapped around his finger from the moment he had gotten a haircut. His hair was a lot shorter than before and barely even touched his forehead. Y/N didn’t really give a damn. To her, he was still Jake Kiszka, neighbor.

Their parents were friends and always hungout on the weekends. Y/N’s family had a cabin on the lake which they always vacationed at and occasionally would bring Jake’s family with. One particular summer, they stayed there for a week between the summer of sophomore and junior year. The summer’s were always hot, but this week in particular was hotter than the other summer’s before. “It feels like the Devil’s asshole out here.”

“I know, Mary, but that’s the exact reason we chose to come here this week. The kids can swim in the lake, it’s a lot cooler in the water than on the grass.” Y/N’s dad spoke, returning the conversation from her mother. He gave her a quick kiss on the side of the head and returned to unpacking the car. Y/N and the boys had already gone into the house and picked their rooms. The boys shared one, and Y/N got one of the spare bedrooms. 

Dinner was made as soon as everyone was settled in. Everyone sat around the dining table, laughing and eating as they did almost every weekend. “You excited for Junior year, Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m sort of nervous about taking the SAT and ACT. I’ve been studying when I’m not working at the shop.” She picked at some asparagus on her plate as she answered Mrs. Kiszka’s  question. Jake and Josh weren’t entirely ecstatic about it, it didn’t really matter to either of them. Music was their passion and that was never going to change.

Smores after dinner was a tradition that started when they were all really little, barely old enough to eat them. The fire was lit by Mr. Kiszka and Mr. Y/L/N. Jake, Sam and Josh had always played music while the rest of them made their smores. Y/N always made extras for the boys for when they were done playing music. Whenever they had no idea what to play, Y/N always knew the answer. Running out of songs to play, though, was a rarity in itself. The Kiszka’s knew so much about their sound, nothing was in their way of playing songs that fit it. However, every once in a blue moon they would ask their friend what she would like to hear. “C’mon now. You should know I’m a sucker for The Beatles.”

Y/N could recognize the sound of Blackbird the second it started playing. She had only listened to it eight million times that summer. She hummed lightly along as they played. Everyone clapped as soon as their song was over, the boys immediately delving into their smores. Y/N had finally taken a seat next to Josh when she was finished making their smores for them. Once their parents had gone inside, though, Y/N and the twins dipped into their parents' cooler of beer.

Neither of the sets of parents cared, they knew their kids would be safe and unharmed if they drank at the cabin. Jokes were told and stories of the past school year were discussed, as well as the future. A topic so vast for high schoolers. “I still can’t decide between a lawyer and an art teacher.”

“You’ve always been great at arguing,” Josh joked, “Practically got fuckin’ Lindsey McNeil out of that suspension.”

“It wasn’t fair. All she did was stand up for herself and what she believed in, plus that teacher is fucking creepy and everyone knows it.” Everybody laughed, the beer in everyone’s hands was getting a little warmer with every minute that passed by. Everyone filtered out one by one. Sam went in first, followed by Ronnie (she was slightly upset about coming, having made other plans with friends for the hot weather), and then Josh followed, leaving behind Jake and Y/N.

“Did you want to go inside yet or stay out here for a bit longer?” The silence beforehand hadn’t been awkward for the pair. “Cause I was thinking of going swimming for a bit.”

“I’ll join you, we haven’t swam yet today.”

The sand leading into the lake was met with a bit of rocks. It was picturesque under the moonlight. The pair discarded their clothing, leaving their underwear and got into the water. The coolness of the water sent goosebumps along her skin, leaving no piece without some. Jake followed in behind her, coming up next to her before completely dipping under the water. He popped back up and shook his head.

“You know,” Y/N started, “I think you’d look really good with longer hair.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. You should grow it out.” She swiped his hair out of the way and giggled a bit. “You’ll still never be prettier than I am.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

The rest of the summer followed with light flirting and spending lots of time together. Junior year came around and nothing changed a bit. Prom was spent with the Kiszka family, Josh driving the three of you, as well as Josh’s date. The dance was lame, the songs were overplayed pop music, which Y/N secretly had a bit of a soft spot for. She would never tell that to Jake, though.

The pair ended up back at Y/N’s house, giggling all the way up to her room. He went into the bathroom to take his suit off, using one of Y/N’s hangers to make sure it wouldn’t wrinkle. However, Y/N was still having issues. She couldn’t manage to undo the zipper by herself, waiting for Jake to come back into the room to do it for her. He came back in, saw her still in her dress. “Need my help?”

“My zipper -- I can’t reach it.”

“I can do it,” he whispered, knowing Y/N’s parents were asleep. His hands were warm against her back, undoing her zipper slowly. The moonlight coming in from the window felt like that hot summer night at the cabin. He slid the straps down her shoulders, his mouth slightly agape. How could someone look so beautiful and delicate at the same time?

She turned around, her body facing Jake’s. He stuttered, telling her he could leave and he was honestly about to. Until he felt her hand grab his wrist. “Don’t go.”

He nodded his head, helping her get the rest of the way out of her dress. She stepped closer to him and put her hands on his chest. She could feel how fast his heart was beating. She had a hard time meeting his gaze, nervous of him not feeling the same way she had been. “You looked really good tonight.”

“Me? Everybody was staring at you the whole time, Y/N,” he spoke, one hand finding their way to her waist, the other pulling on her chin to force eye contact. “You looked absolutely breathtaking.”

There was a split second where both of them second guessed themselves. But it was over when Y/N pressed her lips lightly against Jake’s. It was such a feathery light touch, it almost felt like she wasn’t even kissing him. She pulled away slowly, her eyes closed, not really knowing what to do next. She didn’t have to figure it out though, Jake’s lips returned to hers with more pressure.

His hands had found their rightful place on her back, bringing her closer to him. Hers found their way into his hair. It felt so natural - the need for each other grew stronger with each passing minute. His mouth never wanted to leave hers, it felt as though her lips were coated in fucking drugs the way they were so addicting. He couldn’t get enough. “Do you want to..?”

“Yes, please.” It came out so needy - desperate. Y/N didn’t even care about how that presented itself to Jake. She just wanted to be even closer to him than she already was. And she got to be right where she wanted to be.

Her bed was more comfy than Jake had previously remembered. Or maybe that was because they were here under different circumstances, not just studying algebra because Jake wasn’t quite getting it. All he knew was that he wasn’t ever going to forget it. He wanted this moment to replay forever and ever. Not because he was just some horny teenager, but because holy fuck, this had just been some random thought - a daydream, almost. But this was real. This was happening.

A tangled mess they were when climaxing. “I love you,” came out as barely above a whisper. It took Y/N a half of a second to register what he was really saying before it finally hit her. She didn’t feel as if she had to say it back, if anything, he should realize that she loved him too.

“I could honestly stay here forever and stare at you until the end of time.”

“So do it. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

They didn’t though. And it wasn’t that simple. Complications arose after that night. Everything got messy and trying to tie in a relationship while the band was traveling and on the road became increasingly difficult, especially when Y/N went to college.

She came home to Frankenmuth while she was off for the summer. Her mother and father missed her a great deal and the first weekend home was spent in the Kiszka’s backyard, the boys excluded. It was weird to be at their house and not see them littered around anywhere. Ronnie was full of stories though, telling Y/N about previous times the boys have come home from touring and the memories they brought back with him.

It was painful to hear, but she was so incredibly proud of everything they had accomplished and done. Every once in a while, Y/N had checked up on their band's Instagram account. When she was really nervous — having a hard time not worrying about them — she texted Josh or Danny. Neither of them were ever going to say anything to Jake or mention it to Sam.

The two families decided to get together and have dinner at a local bar. The boys were still away, they weren’t scheduled to come back to Michigan for at least another month and a half. Ronnie and Y/N spent most of their time talking about future plans for the upcoming weeks while their parents discuss their weekend plans — what to have for dinner and who’s house to have dinner at. Time had passed quickly and before they knew it, it was 10pm.

The parents had left, leaving Ronnie and Y/N at the bar by themselves. At least, that was until the boys walked in.

Ronnie smiled widely, hugging her brothers but then proceeding to punch them for surprising her and not just telling her. Josh and Danny hugged Y/N first, Sam leading after. Jake didn’t hug Y/N. It stung a bit. It made sense though. The last time they talked — it ended in an argument which was the resulting cause of their breakup.

A few drinks were downed, a couple shots thrown in there as well. Y/N figured it was time to throw the towel in. She couldn’t handle the awkward glances and forced conversation on their part. She grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair and put it on as she said goodbye to everyone. “Boys, lovely to see you again. I’m sure I’ll see you this weekend.”

She wasn’t going to. She was gonna avoid them at all costs. Come up with a lie — say she had the flu or something. Her mother would believe her either way, as well as understand where she was coming from with her avoidance. Her mother was there for her while she cried her eyes out.

She didn’t notice when Jake had followed her out. She didn’t notice him calling her name. The only thing she could notice was the tears falling down her cheeks, wiping them as soon as she felt them.

“I never stopped loving you.”

It slipped out. It didn’t mean to come out. Jake didn’t necessarily want it to come out. They say drunk words are sober thoughts, right? At the same time, who trusts the words of a drunk person? Usually it’s just brushed off as babbling, but Y/N couldn’t ignore what Jake said. Especially because she couldn’t blame it on not hearing him. There was no music playing outside the bar. The music was faint enough that anything Jake had said was heard.

“When we broke up,” he started. “I was a wreck. I was immature. It could’ve worked out - it would’ve worked out if I wasn’t such a child about everything.”

“Jake —“

“No, Y/N, I need to say this now. I’m a little drunk so I actually have the balls to say everything I want to. It was stupid to break up over something as menial as distance. The things I feel for you are so intense it scares the fuck out of me. I was so afraid of being gone all the time. You deserved someone who could be there to help you study for midterms. I was always in another state and sometimes another country. I wasn’t… there to be able to help you through anything. Everything’s different now, though.”

She sighed, not entirely sure on what to do with the information that was thrown at her. She was sober enough to remember the conversation tomorrow, but not nearly drunk enough to be able to deal with it tonight. “Do you wanna just come home with me? Talk about this tomorrow morning when we’re both sober.”

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

[underkita-archive]

polyester

kita shinsuke | w.c 2k

a/n: sigh pain,, this is inspired by the song heather by conan gray! i was walking my dog when the song came on and i was like huh, what if i just write a leetle something? which became u know,, 2k words,,,, anyway uh note that this not really an x reader fic,,,

now with the companion piece cotton

set post-timeskip

warnings: just sad, poor use of past tense honestly i struggled so hard, unrequited feelings/love, some tears being shed, feelings of regret

On the second day of your first year of high school you meet Kita Shinsuke. 

Quiet, collected, Kita Shinsuke. 

It had been completely by luck of the draw. You could remember your nerves, still afraid of navigating the ins and outs of high school when there was a gentle tap on your shoulder in the first year hallway. 

“You dropped this.” He’d placed the notebook in your hands before you could stutter out a thank you, left to watch as he approached the Miya twins with a stern look.

To call it love at first sight may have been an exaggeration, but at the time you couldn’t help but color it as such.

His cool demeanor and dedication to a sport that hardly rewarded him was far more admirable than you would’ve liked to admit. So you had found yourself at few more volleyball matches than someone who never cared for the sport.

And when Miya Atsumu came careening into the classroom one frigid morning spouting nonsense and demanding one of the girls in your class volunteer to be the volleyball club’s team manager you couldn’t have stopped yourself from raising your hand if you tried. 

He wasn’t even captain yet, but the two of you worked closely. Staying behind to clean up after the raucous first years, careless second years and overworked third years.

The only ones dedicated enough.

Somewhere in between those late nights cleaning and those early mornings prepping, between the quiet whispers and watching him become more and more dependable.

You had fallen in love.

It hadn’t surprised you, you knew you were doomed from the start. Since that one lucky day in the first year hallway, you knew it had been a matter of when not if.

There had been more than enough opportunities to confess your feelings, to free yourself of the endless nights of pining, of being tormented by all the what ifs and almosts.

Yet you watched in perfect silence as your first year melted away. Watched as Kita earned the right to being called captain, and let yourself be consumed by the role of the doting team manager. 

Once again you had found yourself letting the months roll by, allowing your feelings to rot away at your insides, suffering in the way he seemed to form a kind smile solely for you, living for the quiet praise and approving nods he’d occasionally offer.

“Why don’t you just confess?” Your friend had said, tired of the sad way you would carry yourself after a particularly taxing day of spending too much time in Kita’s proximity. 

“Nationals, I’ll tell him when we win nationals.” You promised, trying to convince yourself that it would be the right time, a poor attempt at trying to conjure up a speck of bravery. 

By the time Nationals had arrived you had prepared your heart to the best of your ability, ready to see your team take their rightful spot as the champions.

And when they didn’t, whatever courage you had cobbled together shattered. So you sulked. Standing on the balcony of the hotel, staring up at the light polluted Tokyo sky, shaking from the biting cold.

“You’ll get sick like that.” You hadn’t thought your blood could run any colder until his voice interrupted whatever pitiful thoughts had been running through your mind.

“I-It’s...fine.” You hoped he chalked down the stammer in your words from the weather over nerves.

“Mmm. Don’t stay out here too long.” You nodded your head, keeping your eyes focused on a flickering star struggling to make its presence known when there was a weight on your shoulders. You couldn’t help but snap your eyes down, the familiar shade of maroon now hanging over your body. 

And what should’ve finally been said that night was left in the air, left struggling like that little star in the sky. 

With a heavy heart you watched him graduate, watched as time kept moving without bothering to let you catch up.

◇ ◆ ◇

Years later you can say with confidence that your school girl crush has aptly faded, telling yourself that there was never a need to confess.

Until your phone beeps late one Thursday night.

Engagement dinner. 

Your eyes scan over the text, once, twice, again and again until you lose count, until your chest feels tight and your face burns and what were once feelings you thought had faded start rearing their ugly head.

You won’t allow whatever leftover hormonal thoughts poke and prod at what you’ve built up. You’re older, wiser and most importantly you’ve moved on. 

So you clean up nicely, put on something nice but not too nice, just a touch of perfume and only check twice in the mirror before you walk out the door to call a Lyft. 

The restaurant is unfamiliar, nestled in a cute little neighborhood. It’s fitting for Kita, it’s homey and cozy but nice enough for the occasion. 

You try not to choke as he approaches you, a grin too large splaying across his usually serious face, oddly enough it fits, furthermore it hurts.

It takes you a second too long to notice the woman beside him, the sight of his arm tucked behind her back as she curls into his side, she offers you a shy yet refined smile. You barely catch her name, the overwhelming sensation of the past creeping up on you, tearing down whatever walls you had carefully built over the years.

They show you to the table, Aran, Akagi and Gin already there with their charming and familiar smiles, yet the lovely reunion is unable to distract you from the way he pulls out her chair, making sure she’s properly settled before he takes his place beside her once more.

You think of the maroon jacket that had weighed so comfortably on your shoulders that freezing Tokyo night, you think of the words that laid on the tip of your tongue, so close yet so far as Kita patted your head and returned back inside.

The lost opportunity.

Only to have the once sweet memory dashed away at the lightness of your left ring finger, as you’re forced to witness the woman beside Kita rest a perfectly manicured hand atop his, the ruby gemstone set on a golden band gleaming so beautifully in the low restaurant lighting.

“Captain! Sorry we’re late! Congratulations.” Miya Atsumu with his usual loudmouth tears through your concealed pity party, a small smile finding its way to your lips at the way Osamu trudges behind him with that special irritated look reserved solely for his brother.

“It’s just Kita, I haven’t been your captain in years.” He rises from his seat, taking his bride-to-be’s hand and introducing her to the ever famous Miya twins. 

“Sure sure, manager-chan! Looking good!” He’s by your side in seconds, thick arms already pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

“You’re gonna break her ‘Tsumu.” 

“Shut it ‘Samu, I would never.” His hold only tightens at the statement, the rippling of his muscles against your body causing an undeniable rush of heat to bloom across your body. 

“Enough of that.” You laugh, wiggling out of his grip with an exasperated laugh.

A few more former players of Inarizaki pour into the restaurant, old memories tossed around with endearing fondness and one too many congratulatory toasts leaves your heart aching worse than before, regret eating away at you, the inevitable question of what if cycling though your thoughts. 

“Doing okay?” Atsumu’s closeness is nothing new, somewhere over the years your boundaries had skewed, his face being a little too close was to be expected at this point.

“Sure.” It’s a noncommittal reply that Atsumu would normally call you out on, but he accepts it only after letting his gaze linger on you for a moment.

The minutes tick by as Kita retells the picturesque proposal he had carefully planned, unfiltered adoration and fondness adorning his eyes.

Lovestruck. 

An expression you had wished this man to have focused on you just a few years ago. 

What if?

The question taunts you, what if you hadn’t been a coward? What if you had said it that night? Or any other moment spent by his side? Would it be you? 

Another sip of the bitter wine offers no reprieve from the taunting thoughts, whatever mask you had been donning the entirety of the night starts to wear down, you can feel it slipping out of place. 

“Boy am I sweatin’!” Atsumu barks out, knocking his shoulder against yours, true enough his cheeks are tinted a soft blush, eyes glossy from one too many beers.

The exclamation causes a few snorts and chuckles around the table, a scathing comment from Osamu and a faux jeer from Suna.

“Maybe you need a walk.” You mumble, picking at the food you had long abandoned earlier in the meal. 

“Ya know what? You might be onto somethin’, let’s go.” His fingers are around your wrist before you can register what he’s saying.

“Atsumu what?”

“C’mon, say bye!” 

“Atsumu!”

“You be safe, thank you for coming.” Your head spins as Kita offers that same smile, still a little too wide as he offers a nod and turns back to his fiancee. Atsumu tugs at you again, only for you to shake him off, turning properly to the happy couple. 

“Congratulations Kita-san. I wish you both,” You swallow the bitter lump in your throat, “I wish you both unending happiness.”

You’re turning on your heel before you can receive a reply, biting back whatever pent up emotions threaten to spill over as you rush out of the restaurant, practically running down the sidewalk fueled by the desperate need to get as far as you possibly can. 

“Hey hey slow down!” You don’t bother slowing, let alone stopping, knowing fully well the professional athlete chasing after you will catch up in a matter of seconds. “I said slow down.”

The second his hand touches your shoulder whatever walls left standing come crumbling down.

“It hurts.” It’s nothing more than a whisper before he’s turning you around to face him, a hand still planted on your shoulder as the tears that have been welled up for nearly five years begin to fall. The tears you hadn’t allowed yourself to shed.

“I know.” His voice is pained as he draws you closer, letting you close the distance as you lean against him. The trail of tears burns against your cheeks, they’re filled with shame, with unspoken words, with unrequited love. 

It’s almost poetic, the way you two stand there in a broken silence under the flickering light of one of the odd stores dotting the street. It feels like hours pass by, the initial ache in your chest starting to lessen as you meet his gaze.

“Could you... consider me?” There’s something profoundly sad in his eyes, an exhaustion from years spent quietly resigned from confessing a truth that you were all too familiar with dotting his expression. 

“I,” can’t, “don’t know.” 

“I know that I’m not him, I don’t think I can be anything close, but just, do you think you could?” There isn’t the slightest trace of his boyish charm nor the cool demeanor he normally holds in serious situations. He feels smaller, more exposed and for the first time in all your years of knowing him.

You can see weakness.

“I can’t make any promises.” It feels almost too soon, a little rushed for you to be able to make sense of anything that’s transpired, you don’t want to hurt him, you don’t want to lead him on. 

“I can wait,” a wistful quirk of his lips rekindles the ache from before as an expression you’ve surely worn in the past washes over his face, “I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”

And in a matter of two, maybe three seconds, the world seems to tilt, just a few degrees, just enough for the angle to change, for that memory of the muddled Tokyo sky to shift a few inches to the right from the struggling star to the one shining in softly in the distance.

Your hand moves before you can even think, fingers curling around Atsumu’s chilled ones, intertwining them carefully as you offer him something akin to understanding, something a little deeper, not quite sure what you’re truly conveying.

“Just for a little bit longer.”

[souichieatr]

wanna be yours, ch2

suna x freader , foxy boy

where in which two opposites fall in love

a/n: for everyone who commented on the posts youve been added sorry i cant reply <//3 if you're interested in being in the taglist send me an ask, i was thinking of making a playlist for the au would anyone be interested? lmk !! sorry if there are any mistakes or if its bad this is my first writing <3

ch1. this voice im hearing rn? , hey bestie

word count: 2,090

the first song- The Ghost of You- my chemical romance

second song- I Bet on Losing dogs- mitski

third song- Crybaby- destroy boys

pocketing her phone after reading tendous message, she opens the door waving to a couple friends and offers friendly smile taking her seat. a pair of pale green eyes follow her. after yesterday suna did a little research about her y/n y/l/n the bassist and youngest in the band called 4u, she has quite a big following on twitter, she's really nice and interacts with the fans. looking at her now you can't imagine her on stage suna thought. breaking away from his thoughts as the teacher walks in. spouting for about what feels like hours and the students taking notes, finally lunch approaches. y/n jumps from her seat grabbing her case she walks to the third year hallway. waving to her friends they walk to her, tendou wrapping his arms around her “y/n!!!!!! i missed you” laughing as she hugged him back “tendou!!! i missed you toooo.” she turns to the grey haired male, “semisemi!!” she says giving him a hug, he rolls his eyes and hugs her back “and ushi!!” she turns to the brunette to which he pats her head “good afternoon y/n.” as they go to the lunch room to grab their lunch, they walk to one of the music rooms they usually occupy. a beep from her phone grabs her attention seeing her friend atsumu asking if him his twin and their friend can join for lunch, “hey guys you dont mind if atsumu and his friends come join us?” she says setting down her case against the wall. “nah you can invite them, atsumu is our biggest hype man” tendou says, grabbing his drum sticks from his back pocket. texting him its cool she goes to unzip her bass. “oh ms lady ive missed you” she says hugging the instrument, “i can't believe you two and always wanting to play, dont yall have any other hobby?” semi says, grabbing the schools given guitar setting the speaker up for y/n. tendou gives a scoff “semisemi dont act like you hate hearing us play i see you listening to our covers alllll the timeeeee” he says “yeah semi besides we have a concert soon and it wouldnt be bad to have an audience” y/n says walking to semi to connect her bass to the speaker when the door opens, entering is atsumu in the middle, osamu on his left, and a mystery guy in the back. setting her bass down running up to the blond “tsumu!!” giving him a hug “y/n!!” he hugs her back, she waves to osamu, who shes met on an occasion. looking towards the dark haired guy she walks up to him, noticing shes seen him somewhere. “youre suna right? we're in the same class?” she says giving him a hand and a awkward smile, nodding at her words. “hope its okay im here” he says taking her hand giving a slight shake. “nah dont worry its nice to have a different face, seeing tsumu is getting boring” turning around to the male. “what she means to say is we could use practice in front of new people” the grey haired male says giving a small laugh when tendou scoffs at him, both guys walking towards the small group. “this is semi and this is tendou” she says introducing them. when the introductions are over the two males go back to setting up, y/n walks the newcomers to the sitting area “here you guys can sit, im sure you all know ushijima” on hearing his name he looks up from his name giving a small head bow. they all sit “any recommendations tsumu?” y/n says walking to her bass making sure everything was good, looking towards the small group. “y/n you know my favorites” atsumu says stealing one of his brothers onigiri. y/n laughs and rolls her eyes, turning to tendou “anything you wanna try tori?” tendou looks at her with a smile “y/n lets show semi whatweve been working on” hearing this semi looked at them “what do you guys mean? what did you two do” y/n chuckles at the grey hairs doubtful expression “mr semisemi you know your favorite mcr song” when she sees him nod she continues “me and tori learned it” she says pushing him lightly. semi looked at her with wide eyes then at tendou, looking at semi tendou flicked his drum stick between his fingers with a nod. “wow semi cant believe you, we spent so much hours perfecting a my chemical romance for your sap self and he doesn't believe us y/nie i might

” tendou says fake sniffing. the little group in the back beyond confused, atsumu clearing his throat “have you three forgotten us already, wheres our show” ushijima nodding his head “yeah why are you guys being so vague” tendou snickers “dont worry you three and wakatoshi we have decided to play a new song or well cover i should say” “yeah and its semi’s favorite band you know the one that he wears on his shirts?” ushijima looking towards the girl after hearing her statement he nods. “okay can we play now ive been waiting to show my skills and get our lovely semi's opinion” y/n says removing her pick, both boys giving a ‘yeah’. finally tendou does the countdown. suna looks at all three of them with slight excitement in his stomach, ‘is this a new song im going to hear?’ before he could think of anything else, semi started playing a few chords by himself and y/n starting to add her own strums then tendou adding drums. sunas eyes widen at how well all the sounds blended together, freezing in his spot when semi started singing, when hitting the chorus y/n joins him. suna looking at her, he felt like he had been put in a trance, feeling like theres a spotlight on her when she starts nodding her head seeing her tongue sticking out when stringing the instrument. towards the end you can see y/n lose focus and her eye twitches, ending the song she sighs. “hey sorry about the end” waving to the guys to her left with a frown. hearing applause from the group the frown doesnt last long. “WHOOO!!!!! THAT WAS MY BESTIES GO SEMI! GO TENDOU! GO Y/N!!” atsumu gets up and yells. “that was so good what the hell that was yer first time too?” he says going up to the group, high-fiving y/n. “i mean me and tendou practiced together but semi basically has every song by them memorized but together? yeah our first.” tendou getting up to get his water that was next to ushijima. semi joining the fake blond and the girl, patting her on her back “that was a good first for us i can tell you and tendou worked hard, we're definitely adding it to the set list.” getting a laugh from both of them semi walks to the small group. “hey man that was really good, you have a nice voice” suna says as semi approaches, semi turned to him surprised “oh thank you im glad you enjoyed, do you listen to our stuff?” he says taking a seat next to him. “ive recently just started, i hope that doesnt sound too weird” the dark haired suddenly getting a little embarrassed, chuckling “its not weird i promise, well its good you listen to us or im sure it would've been awkward to just be here” nodding along to what he said. tendou going back to the drums “are you cowards tapping out now?” “COWARDS?!?!” y/n yells back turning around “i am no coward tendou satori i'll make you eat those words semi get over here” she said grabbing semis attention and shooing atsumu back to his seat. chuckling as he sat back down, turning to suna “howd ya like em? theyre good huh?” suna rolling his eyes “im not going to help inflate your ego tsumu” “yeah tsumu yer big ego is not cute” gasping to their remarks “you guys are so mean to me, i introduce you to nice music and even the artists and this is the thanks i get” before any could respond tendou starts clicking his sticks. starting this one is tendou with a slower sound, y/n entering second then semi with vocals. y/n leans down to mess with something by her foot turning a notch noises like static come out adding to the music, coming up fast she starts adding her vocals complimenting semis. pressing on the box she leans down as more noises come out. atsumu leans over to sunas ear “thats a pedal that holds other sounds and can help stretch other sounds” suna giving him a nod. towards the end y/n reaches down to the pedal again adding a distorted sound before adding her last bit of ‘oohs’ before the song ends. everyone clapping as the members stay still for s bit before y/n dramatically bows “youre so welcome lovely audience” she says blowing kisses to them, laughing at her atsumu jumps up and down pretending to be a crazy fan “oh y/n you were so go

od i love you y/n!!!” y/n laughing at him. “hey atsumu what about me!” tendou asks swinging his hand “howd i do?” “oh tendou you were so good, i love you too tendou!!!” he says swinging his arm back. tendou satisfied with his response nods his head, “and with that lets play one more i still want time to actually eat before we play again later.” “yeah lets try ‘crybaby’ we haven't done that in awhile” semi says getting in position.“remember y/n you do the verses” y/n nods clearing her throat “go tori” she says and tendou starts the counting again. starting the counting fast he gets one beat then y/n starts off with singing, swinging her bass back she grabs the mic. suna cracks a smile nodding his head a little as he remembers this song on their youtube, atsumu whistling when y/n dips down her mic as she sings, letting the boys have a solo in between verses she bobs her head. the last few seconds of the song she swings the instrument back as she steps on the pedal creating feedback, as semi goes to vocals she starts getting a solo with tendou playing, y/n leans forward and her and semi sing the rest of the song. after the last note they all look out of breath. clapping for them again letting them catch their breath, y/n starts laughing “i forget how hard that song is towards the end” laughing with her tendou nods “its literally the last 50 seconds that get the hardest” “alright lets clean up” semi says laughing at both of their bored looks they send him. finishing up they all go to the group whove are talking among themselves. sighing as she sits y/n takes the seat next to suna, “so howd you like the songs?” she says with a smile “they were good though i only recognized the last one” he replies, “tsumu told me you started listening to us recently so i thought or well semi thought wed show off a bit with our best song being that” she says with a smile grabbing her bottle. a small smile appears on his face “oh hey tsumu told me youre like really good in your classes and i really need help in history and since we have that group project coming up do you wanna pair up?” she says setting her bottle down grabbing a bag of chips. “yeah i dont mind as long as you actually do something and i can help you study if your grade is that bad” he says. “thatd actually help me out a lot i really appreciate it” she lets a breath out. after that the two spent all lunch just talking, the conversation coming easy for both of them. hearing the bell ring y/n hugs her friends and walks with suna to their class, pairing up in the project the teacher had given them in their period. after class before y/n rushed out she passed him her number with a wink “text me for the deets foxy boy.” ‘foxy boy? suna thought to himself shaking his head texting her with a simple ‘hey its suna’ and heading home.

facts !

during lunch when suna and y/n we're talking the followed each other on twitter

semi was really touched they learned the mcr song

the 4u concert is at a small venue but no one really cares about the other groups going there

osamu and atsumu almost started fighting over the onigiri until suna said something about ushijima being right there

atsumu was watching suna and y/n talking

osamu actually really enjoyed being there during lunch

—taglist

@applekenm , @xhanjisungiex , @astronomyturtle , @sirachano0dles , @yn-tingz , @killmepls-uwu , @bakugouswh0r3

[blackrose2400]

Perfectly Ordinary (Eddie Munson X female! reader)

A/N - This is my first published fan fiction so pls be nice. I love Eddie and would be happy to continue this story or start another one via request!

Warning - Drug Dealing

Synopsis - You know Eddie from when you were in high school, but the two of you never spoke. Now that you’ve graduated, you’re sure he won’t remember you. But after meeting up with him, you seem to have peaked his interest and he’s peaked yours.

***

“Are you serious?” you sigh, annoyed with your younger brother, now a senior in high school.

“Come on, just this once, I forgot I had basketball practice.” He pleads with you, shoving his sweats into his backpack. 

“I’m not an idiot, I know what it means when someone says that Eddie Munson has something for them. He was supposed to be in my graduating class if you remember.” you huff, as you lay on the couch reading a magazine. Your brother shushes you and gives you an exasperated look.

“Can you just do me this one solid? I told him it would be picked up by at least 6:30 at his trailer,” He slips on his shoes and flings a gum wrapper at you. You unfold the crinkled up piece of paper and find a messily scribbled address written on it. You glare at your brother and flip him the bird as he winks and rushes out the door. 

You knew Eddie from High School, always making some smart remark from the back, challenging the teachers when they picked on him, flirting with the girls but never really meaning it, making drug deals most days. He was a character, and the thing was, he never really noticed you. You weren’t the smartest girl in the class, you weren’t the cheerleader, you were the perfectly ordinary girl who minded her business and got her work done. 

It was nearing 6 o’clock so you start to get ready. Your hair was down, you wore baggy distressed jeans and a looser band tee. You weren’t really dressed to impress but you didn’t want to make him recoil at the sight of you so you freshened up your makeup and fluffed your hair. You grab the gum wrapper and squint trying to make out the address as your mom steps into the room.

“Going somewhere?” She asks with a smile as she sits on the couch. You decide to match her smile and shove the wrapper into your back pocket, “Just to meet a friend. I’ll be back soon, ‘kay?” and start to walk to the door.

“Take a jack-” you hear your mother start to shout but you were already out the door walking towards your destination. He wasn’t far from your home, just had to cross a field and down a few streets and you’d be there.

After around 15 minutes you find yourself standing in front of a trailer, the sound of a stereo blasting Black Sabbath somewhere inside. You’re nervous. Why are you nervous? He won’t care about any of this, why should you? You step up to the door and knock only to wait for another two minutes. No answer. You knock again, louder this time, and hear some sort of crash and someone curse.

The door swings open and there he was, Eddie Munson. Once he looks you over, his face turns from agitated to amused.

“And what might I help you with?” He asks, leaning against the door frame. 

“My brother said he had a pick up for… well-” you laugh nervously, “You know.”

He leans forward, squinting, looks side to side then whispers “drugs?”. You roll your eyes because you know he’s teasing and he straightens back up with a proud smile. “Yeah yeah just step in, I’ll grab it.” He walks off towards the left of the trailer and you step into the trailer shutting it behind you. You run your fingers through your hair nervously and wait as music fills your ears. “Y’know, I don’t remember your brother saying you were his mule.” He shouts from the other room.

“I’m not, he just had basketball practice.” You shout back. He comes stumbling out of his room, a little baggy in hand waving it in the air. 

“I also don’t remember him having a hot sister.” He smirks, holding out the baggy for you to take. You roll your eyes and reach out for the baggy but he holds it above his head. You look at him confused and he steps back brushing his bottom lip with his thumb as he eyes you for a moment.

“We had class together.” He states shaking his pointer finger in the air. You stand there awkwardly, you were sure he wouldn’t remember you.

“Yeah, we did.” You go to reach for the baggy again but he holds it higher making you stumble closer, inches away from his face. He smiles as you give him an annoyed look. “What, did you not like me?” He pushes out his bottom lip, pretending to be sad.

“No, I’m just surprised you remember me, you never really acknowledged me.” You fold your arms and stare up at him.

“I was intimidated by you.” He stumbled back and leaned against a wall, twirling the small baggy. You scoff and laugh at his response, “No you weren’t, you had no problem messing with and flirting with all the other girls.”

“So you’re mad I never flirted with you?” He grins. You shake your head and put your hand out. “I could care less about that, I’m just here for the baggy.” 

“Do you want me to flirt with you now, sweetheart?” he winks and pushes himself off the wall, striding over towards you. “Do you do this to all of your customers? I’d be surprised if you had any left if you did.” You give him a cocky smile. He pretends to be offended by placing his hand on his heart and stumbles back but quickly regains his composure. “You aren’t my customer, your brother is. So I need payment before I hand it over.”

Of course he didn’t pay Eddie and of course you forgot to bring any money with you. You sigh and close your eyes, “I don’t have it, I thought he would’ve already paid you.” 

Eddie cocks his head to the side as a small smile grows across his lips, “How about this, I give this to you now if you promise to come back and pay me.” 

You frown for a moment. This wouldn’t make sense because anyone could just walk off and not come back and he would be out the money.

“Deal?” He extends his hand and you stare at all the rings that adorned his fingers. His hands were nice to look at, and it made you nervous to think you had to touch it. “Deal,” you say confidently as you reach out and shake his hand, the cool of his rings contrasted the warmth of his hand. Your heart flutters and you rip your hand away, snatching the baggy away from him. He was charming, somehow he knew you would be back. 

“Ok, it’s been a pleasure, Eddie. I’ll make sure you get the payment.” You start towards the door.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he taunts and slightly bows as you walk past him. “Wait a second, it’s chilly out there, take my jacket.” He grabs his leather jacket off his couch and tosses it to you.

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, trying to hand him back his jacket.

“I may be a drug dealer, but I am still a gentleman. Just bring it when you come and pay me.” he winks. “What if my brother is the one who comes to pay you?” You ask. 

“No, you’ll be back.” He smirks and opens the door for you as you shrug on his jacket. You can’t help but smile as you exit the trailer. Eddie Munson had completely charmed you and you couldn’t wait to go back for more.

[sushiburritonoms]

DinLuke 10. high school popular kid/nerd au

I've been sitting on this AU Fic request all week because High School was a long time ago for me and I have no idea what all you young people are doing these days. After talking to Dark, I finally came up with an idea based off what I remember from high school in the 1990s. Hence this is one of the more serious ficlets I've done, but then again I've never thought of the high school genre as a happy one? Unless we're talking about Sailor Moon or something (which trust me I WAS TEMPTED).

10. High school popular kid/nerd AU

Warnings: USA centric, Time period appropriate homophobia, homophobic language, school bullying.

This looked so easy in the movies.

Din squinted at his target, readjusted his stance and after a moment, let the small pebble fly from his hand. It made a graceful arch…and landed on the top of the roof instead of hitting Luke’s second floor bedroom window. Again. He groaned.

“I can’t believe you’re the Captain of the football team.”

Din yelped and spun around. Standing directly behind him was Luke’s twin sister, staring at him with an annoyed expression on her face. She was still dressed in the same white cardigan, pink spaghetti strap tank and skinny jeans he’d seen her in at school, and was carrying her silver JanSport bag on her back and her clarinet case in one hand. If looks could kill, Din would be….well. Not dead, but most likely wounded, since the look Leia Amidala Skywalker was giving him was one of distrust and utter annoyance.

A thousand different excuses flew through Din’s head, in one ear and out the other.  Of all the things he could have said, what actually came out was, “I thought you had Jazz Band today.”  Or was it Model UN? Was it Thursday yet?

“It was cancelled. Ms. Junda is out sick.”  Leia used her free hand to push her glasses further up her nose.  “Why didn’t you just use the front door like a normal person?” She shook her head at him and started to walk towards her front door.

Din hesitated.

Leia looked back and rolled her eyes. “My parents aren’t home. My mom has another fundraiser and my dad got dragged into helping. Doesn’t my parasitic twin tell you anything?”

Din frowned. He took AP Bio and that insult made no sense. “Did you two have another argument?”

Leia gave him an incredulous look. “We never fight.”

Not according to Luke, but Din wisely avoided mentioning that.  “My pager got confiscated,” Din admitted. “It went off during history and Mr. Mundi took it.”

“You could have just talked to him,” Leia said. Then she used the palm of her hand to hit her head. “Oh duh, I forgot. You’re too cool to talk to Wormie and Squirmie at school.”

“Hey!” Din walked over to Leia. “I don’t call you guys that.” He hated Luke and Leia’s stupid nicknames. He couldn’t stand the way the other kids treated the Skywalker twins, especially Fett and his gang of morons.

Leia’s hand jingled as she pulled out her house key. “You don’t stop them,” she said quietly as she turned her back to Din. “It’s pretty much the same thing.”

Din felt his heart drop into his chest.  That wasn’t true. Every time he heard his teammates talking smack about other kids he told them off. But apart from Football practice, he didn’t really spend time talking with Fett and his friends. He was too busy working his afterschool job at Blockbuster and helping his foster mom with the other kids.  “I would,” he protested. “If Fett or anyone else ever said anything to my face about you and Luke, I would smack ‘em.”

Leia side eyed him, with her hand still clutching at her front door. “What about Han? Would you stand up for him?”

“Han Solo?”  Din blinked. The infamous dropout of Coruscant High? “I thought he joined a biker gang?”

That was the wrong thing to say. Leia whirled around. “No he didn’t! What is wrong with you!” She swung her clarinet case at Din and he had to take several steps back. “I don’t know what Luke sees in you, you stupid jock!”

“HEY! Shhh! I’m sorry, I’m sorry ok! Calm down!” Din looked around nervously to see if anyone had heard Leia.  He had no idea what he’d done to piss Luke’s sister off. They’d never had more than a few short conversations with each other ever since Din moved into town two years ago.

“What? You don’t want people to know you’re a homo?” Leia shouted at him. She had tears in her eyes. “You afraid you’ll stop being Mr. Popular if they knew you were a gaylord like Luke? Huh? You thick headed, scruffy looking….Neanderthal!”

“Leia!”

Din and Leia both froze. They hadn’t noticed the front door opening nor noticed Luke until he was standing right in front of them.  His blond hair was all disheveled and he had an ice pack in one hand and the beginnings of an awful black eye on his swollen face. His lip was cut up and there was blood dotting his green t-shirt.

“What happened!” Din blurted out. He pushed past Leia to hover next to Luke. “Who did this?!”

Luke winced and pulled away before Din could touch his face. “I’m fine.  Will you two get in here before you get outed to the entire town?”

Din opened his mouth to reply but was shoved into the doorframe by a furious Leia.  “I didn’t know it was this bad.” She grabbed her brother’s hand and dragged him into their living room.

“I’m fine!” Luke repeated. “How’d you even find out?”

“Amy told me. She saw the fight.” She pulled Luke over to their couch and nudged her brother into sitting. Din quietly closed the door and watched the siblings from a safe distance. Amy must have been Amilyn Holdo, the school’s resident weirdo.  She was one of Leia’s best friends and another frequent target of the meaner kids in their class.

“Ugh Leia, quit it! Did you skip Jazz Band for me?!”  Luke tried to wiggle away from his sister as Leia fussed over his cut lip.

“I thought it was cancelled,” Din frowned.

“That’s what we’re telling my parents,” Leia muttered.  “But I don’t think we can explain this!”

Luke sighed. “You know they won’t even notice.” He sounded so defeated that Din felt a surge of rage at Mrs. Skywalker and her busy city council career.

“Mom’s gonna notice a black eye!” Leia paused. “Eventually.”

Din counted to three just like his foster mother was always telling him to do. “Will someone tell me what the hell happened?!”

Both twins turned to look at him simultaneously, doing that creepy staring thing that made them frequent targets of the school bullies.  “Greedo,” they both said at once.

Ugh. He really liked Luke, but that was just too creepy. It reminded him of the movie Village of the Damned. “Christopher Greedo?”

They both nodded. “He insulted Han,” Luke protested. “Spreading rumors about him and nobody was saying anything.”

OH.  Now Leia’s earlier comments made sense. “You tried to fight Greedo?” Chris Greedo was infamous for his bad temper, a real ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ type of jerk.

“He keeps spreading that stupid biker gang rumor. Nobody knows what really happened to him.” Luke kept clenching and unclenching his fists--which also looked bruised. “I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Din slowly started to approach the twins, keeping one eye on Leia.  She glared at him but still scooted over so that Din could sit next to Luke.

“What really happened?” He asked gently.  He only hesitated for a moment before he reached over and grabbed one of Luke’s bruised hands.

“Han’s old man threw him out.” Leia answered instead of Luke. “He’s been homeless for the last four months.”

“He’s currently living with Chuy Baca’s family on the East Side,” Luke added. “It’s not fair! Han was so close to finally graduating this year but Leia and I can’t convince him to come back.”

“That’s messed up,” Din said as he looked at Leia. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

It felt like he was being judged by Leia as her brown eyes peered into him. “It’s alright,” she said finally. “Now you do.”

There was a whole lot of school politics that Din didn’t understand, even though he’d been living in Coruscant for two years. He knew that Han, Leia and Luke’s nerdy group of friends were low on the social totem pole and by sheer luck Din’s athletic ability meant he was attractive to the popular group that ran the school.  Boba Fett in particular acted like he was some sort of king and because Din was useful to him he had become one of the ‘cool kids’ for the first time in his life.  Boba had some sort of grudge against the Church that Luke’s parents attended (Church of the Sith Eternal or something like that).  The other kids also picked on Leia because she was at the top of their class and Luke because he was gay. It didn't matter that Leia had garnered enough votes from the underclassmen to become the secretary of the Student Council. She wasn’t liked by Boba, so that meant the Juniors and Seniors had it out for her.

Din had tried to stay out of the politics. He had his Senior year and then he was done--he would be finished with school and aged out of the foster care system.  Maybe he’d go community college (if by some miracle he could find the money) but most likely he’d end up in the military like his foster brother Paz.  He had so many other problems to deal with, from helping out his loving but overworked foster mother to his uncertain future. But now as he looked at the horrible bruising on Luke’s face and the tears that still lingered in Leia’s eyes, he realized he was making a huge mistake. Distancing himself from the twins and taking refuge in his own popularity wasn’t right. Somebody had to stand up to the ridiculous bullies of Coruscant High. Starting with that slimy bitch Greedo.

“Easy, Romeo.” Din felt a pillow smack the side of his head and he looked up to see Leia shaking her head at him. “I can feel the bloodlust from here. Punching Greedo in the face isn’t gonna help Luke and you’ll only get yourself detention.”

“I’m fine!” Luke insisted as he gingerly put his ice pack back on his eye. They ignored him.

“He can’t keep getting away with this,” Din argued.

“I agree but we have to be smart about this. I’ve seen your GPA Djarin, I know you’re not a moron.”

Luke frowned. “How did you see his grades? Are you hacking into Principal Windu’s computer again?!””

Din tilted his head. “You have a plan.”

Leia adjusted her glasses again. “I have several plans, ranging in severity. Some of which hinge on you.”

Luke groaned. “Oh no.”

“Me?”

“Amilyn and I have a plan to take out the worst of Luke’s tormentors…” Leia hesitated for a moment before continuing, “but it depends on if you’re willing to come out of the closet or not.”

“What! NO!” Luke jerked up before Din could say a word. “You can’t Leia, he’s gonna go to the army next year! They won’t take him if he’s out!”

Leia nodded. “We don’t have to use that plan--”

“--I never said I was going to enlist for sure,” Din interrupted. “I’d like to hear all your plans first.”

Luke turned to him with wide eyes. “No! I’m not worth it!”

“Don’t say that!” Leia scoffed. “If anything, he’s not worth it.”

“Hey.” Din frowned.

“He’s about to graduate!” Luke said to his sister. “Why would we drag him down with us when he’s close to getting out of this hellhole!”

“Because you still have one more year and I can’t take this anymore.” Leia was crying now, slow tears dripping from the corners of her eyes. “Luke, please. Let me help.” She turned to Din. “I know you don’t really want to join the army, I heard you talking to Fennec last week. If you’re willing to work on this with me and Amy, I’ll see to it my mom hires you after you graduate.”

Din hesitated. A promise of a job after high school, something that paid more than Blockbuster,  would be a real life changer for him. But there was a problem. “Wait. Will this plan of yours out Luke to your parents? I thought they’d be against it because of their religion.”

This made Leia snort. “Please, my dad is the worst Sith in the world and my mom is only in it for him.  The bonus is that this plan would convince dad to finally leave that cult.”

Luke shook his head. “If Aunt Ahsoka and Ben weren’t enough to get dad to leave, why do you think he’d leave for me.”

Din tightened his grip on Luke’s hand. “Your dad loves you,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen how he interacts with you. I’ve always thought you weren’t giving Anakin enough credit.”

Leia nodded. “We’re almost in the new millenium, lots of people are out now,” she argued. “It's not like how it was when Aunt Ahsoka was outed.”

“I don’t know, this is a lot!” Luke moaned. But he allowed Din to tuck his head onto his chest and to wrap his arms around him.  Din was happy to see Leia smile at them instead of reacting with any sort of disgust.

“Why don’t we just take this one step at a time,” Din suggested.  “Can you call Amilyn over to talk about all these different plans?”

Leia nodded. She wiped her face with the back of her cardigan sleeve and took a deep breath. “I’ll page her. Will you stay for dinner? We’re ordering pizza. Our parents will be out all night.”

“I need to call home, but yeah, sure.” He wasn’t one to turn down free food.

“Coolio. I’ll brb!”  Leia shot up from the couch.  She walked over to her brother and gave him a soft kiss on the head. It meant that she had to lean close to Din and he could smell something sweet and floral in her carefully braided hair.  “We’re gonna be ok, little brother.”

“I’m two minutes older,” Luke griped.  But Din felt Luke relax in his arms.

As Leia left to use the phone in the kitchen, Din slowly loosened his grip around Luke, enough so he could look at his eye. “I thought I taught you to duck.”

“I did! The first time.”  Luke flinched as Din carefully applied the ice pack to his face again.  “I tried to go low like you said, but then Greedo got me with his knee.”

“That bastard fights dirty,” Din growled. He was going to have to create an ‘accident’ for Greedo in the hallway tomorrow. If he called in his favor to Boba, he might even get one of his lackeys to do it for him.

Din felt Luke’s fingers twist into his plaid shirt.  “Let it go. Please. It’s not right if we stoop to his level. And you shouldn’t come out for me, it’ll just ruin your senior year.”

“Who cares about senior year? Why does everyone make such a big deal about it?! Best years of our lives--that’s depressing as shit.” Din raised his hand to Luke’s chin and gently cupped his face. “I’ve been a big fat coward, ok? This is wrong, Luke. There’s nothing wrong with us.”

Luke swallowed. “There’s a big difference between everyone thinking you’re a fag and being in an actual relationship. I don’t know if you or I are ready for that.”

Din knew what Luke meant. He didn’t know any gay couples. Just rumors of various people, like Luke’s aunt, that existed in their town. There was a significant part of him that was terrified of the consequences of Leia’s plan. Would he still be able to play Football? Would his teammates be afraid of him? What if Leia was wrong and Anakin forbid him from ever seeing Luke again?

But then again, Leia was also right. Luke had one year left and what would happen once he was gone and unable to divert the worst of Luke’s tormentors from jumping him in the hallways?  It wasn’t fair to let the injustice in Coruscant stand. Not while he was still around to do something about it.

“I want to take you to Homecoming,” Din admitted. “I want to see you in a stupid rented tux and make out with you in front of Mr. Windu.”  Luke giggled, then winced as it made his lip hurt.  “And Han should be there with Leia so she can finally make him slow dance.” Din’s hands wandered into Luke’s hair as he dragged him closer.

“Han dances like a penguin,” Luke sighed.  He slowly rested his forehead onto Din’s.  “He’s got two left feet.”

“Even better.”  Din carefully kissed the side of Luke’s mouth, careful to avoid his cut.

“Promise me you won’t do something stupid,” Luke pleaded. “We can wait until I graduate and then we can both leave this trash town.”

Instead of answering, Din pulled Luke into his arms and held him close. He looked up and saw Leia return to the living room. He locked eyes with her and nodded.

“I won’t let them hurt you anymore.”

[pearl-pilots-in-chains]

Come to My Window (All the Little Lights #2)

Fandom: Neon Genesis Evangelion

Ships: Asurei

Rating: T

Summary: Rei doesn't like summers much. She usually ends up spending most of her time alone. One afternoon, an open window changes things. Meanwhile, Asuka's unpacking is going great . . . just great. She's just about had enough when she's distracted by the sound of a familiar song.

Notes: It's time for Asurei to Asurock! This is the second part of my All the Little Lights Evangelion high school AU. A slight warning, there's some content in this fic that might be offensive/triggering. I tried to avoid getting too graphic or dark, but there are some clear depictions of depression and bullying, as well as allusions to familial issues. I just wanted to make sure I put a bit of a disclaimer. That being said, I think those parts are important to Rei's character, so I didn't want to leave them out.

The first song Asuka recognizes Rei playing in this fic is "Always With Me, Always With You," by Joe Satriani, and the band shirt Asuka is wearing in this fic is based on the art to the album "Karmacode" by Lacuna Coil.

This was originally posted to my AO3 on May 25, 2020. Hope you enjoy!

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Rei slumped down into the chair, letting her head fall back, her gaze tilting upward, until she was scrutinizing the ceiling. The faux-sky formed on it looked down on her, the painted stars flares of cream and flame that sliced out of the navy base. She thought it was a nice view. It had the power to draw her back, pulling away years to reach innocent memories. She could recall when the sky was first cast onto her ceiling. It had been her father’s idea, and it was his hand that brought it to life. She remembered watching him from her bed, sitting on top of the plastic wrap they had laid down, crinkling the glossy tarp between her fingers. It half-seemed to be a fragment of another world, a remnant of a different life. Now, the mural served as the sole reminder that her father’s presence had once filled her room.

She had thought about asking Shinji to help her paint over the false sky. She knew there was a can of paint in the garage that could match the ceiling’s original shade well enough. She could return it all to a blank canvas. Erase the constellations, fill the vacuum with blinding light. And yet, she never asked. She wasn’t sure Shinji would be willing to help if the request was made. There was a picture on top of his bookcase. It wasn’t in the front. Its frame stood behind one that displayed Shinji and Toji after a track meet, celebrating their respective performances. But it was still there, half in hiding, half revealed. She knew the day it had been taken. December 24, 2000. On the eve of their last Christmas as a quartet. Her memories of that day were nebulous, lost to the childhood haze that the painting day had managed to emerge from. The picture spoke enough to make up for the lack of recollections though.

Her mother was holding Rei in her lap. Rei was looking away from the camera, down at the floor. She looked far wiser, far sadder that a child should. She looked as though she knew too much. Yui was looking up towards the camera, a smile plastered on her face that failed to hide its fraudulent nature. It was took curved, too hooked, too forced. The eyes told the truth. Distant, worried, ashamed. Shinji was sitting by Gendo. He was trying to imitate his father, pressing his face into an amalgamation of the mask the adult wore. It was a shoddy disguise though, as his lips looked seconds away from tremble, and there was water in the corner of his eyes. Gendo wore the true mask. His gaze bored directly into the lens’s eye, staring it down, as though he was willing the time to work correctly through sheer willpower and determination alone. Or, perhaps he was merely compensating. The tinted glasses he normally sported were nowhere to be seen, which left his eyes naked, exposed, without a shield to fume behind. It was possible that the tight, angry smile which ripped through his lips and the needling glare in his iris were designed to make up for this. They had the opposite effect, however. Whereas his traditional spectacles contained and concealed some degree of his emotions, his posturing revealed the true extent of them. His spite, his wrath, his pride, all laid bare.

As a general rule, Rei didn’t keep photos in the same way her brother did. He had a greater appreciation for the physical mementos, the tangible preservation of a moment for posterity. Rei treasured the fleeting nature of seconds, minutes, days. The ephemeral essence of life. The truth that nothing was everlasting, nothing endured. Consequently, there were three pictures in her room. One of her standing by the front door, the day before her first day of elementary school. She looked brave in it. It wasn’t just a front, Rei realized. She had felt brave that day. Time had taught her, however, that there was a thin line between bravery and foolishness.

The second picture showed Shinji and Rei, mouths broken in laughter, dancing through the backyard, Shinji lunging out in an attempt to tap her shoulders. They had been playing hide-and-go-tag, as they referred to it, and he had found her secret spot behind the rose garden. Yui had snapped the shot the moment before Shinji discovered that his sister was faster than he had anticipated, and had ended up face down in the grass after his ill-fated leap.

The last picture was the newest of the three, though now passing the age of six years, another family photo. This one was dated August 16, 2005. The smiles were more genuine, even if they looked more worn. Gendo was over four years absent.

Shinji visited his father. He had since second grade. Sometimes once every other weekend, sometimes once a month, depending on how their schedules worked out. Rei never visited. She hadn’t seen Gendo in person in a decade. She was perfectly fine with her only memories of him being mostly vague, indefinite impressions of youth. They were painful enough as they were. She didn’t want to imagine having concrete memories.

Yui had never made either of them visit him. She never would. She understood while Rei chose not. If anything, she understood better than Rei herself. Rei was truthful unsure why Shinji chose to go. Perhaps out of guilt, perhaps out of regret, perhaps out of pity, perhaps some combination of the three. Whatever it was, Shinji chose to see his father, and Rei chose not to ask her brother to help remove the last physical trace of their father from her space.

Even beyond Shinji though, Rei felt a reluctance to erase the ceiling, to restore it to its first form. Her mind shied away from the choice, became anxious, and fell silent. Rei knew far, far too much about anxious silences.

She was the “Silent Ikari,” after all. That was one of the names which had been ascribed to her. One of the kinder ones, really. She was never called them to her face, of course. Not that people said much of anything to her face. She supposed that it might be out of respect for her brother, the Ikari most people liked. But they still spoke, in voices loud enough and near enough for her to make their ‘observations’ out. Maybe they thought she was as deaf as she seemed mute. Maybe they just didn’t care if she heard. After all, they could reason that she had no real ‘excuse’ for being withdrawn, closed-off, that ‘emo girl in the corner.’ She just thought she was ‘too good for them.’ The genius who was smart enough to have skipped a grade, who could probably skip another, but ‘just didn’t feel like it.’ The one who all the teachers thought was practically perfect, even if they worried she was ‘a little on the quiet side.’ The one who had a friendly, and moderately popular brother, but was herself too ‘stuck up’ to even bother talking with anyone. And if they didn’t play up that she was cold and arrogant, they played up that something was wrong with her. That she ‘wasn’t all there,’ or had never figured out ‘how to be a human.’ There were words that stung even more, especially when she was younger, when she learned what they meant, but she preferred not to reiterate them in her mind. She didn’t need to give the speakers that power, that lasting blow. All the same, a memory crept into her head unbidden.

It was one of the first times she had sat away from Shinji and his friends. She had felt like a burden to her brother, and she had been tired of always hanging on to him, even if he had never minded. Even if he had wanted nothing more than to make sure she was okay. He was smart enough to know her reputation, even if people avoided saying things in front of him. He had gotten into a fight, a real fight, with someone who he had called a friend before it, over a passing comment the friend had made about Rei when he thought Shinji wasn’t paying attention. After that, Rei had decided to give her brother space. She didn’t want to be the weight that he felt bound by. She didn’t want to be the shadow that he felt as though he had to protect. He hadn’t been happy about it, but he had understood and agreed when she had talked to him. If there was one undeniable fact about her brother, it was that he always did his best to empathize, even when it was clearly difficult for him.

She had picked out a table along the fringe of the room to sit at. Somewhere out of the way, to avoid unwanted attention. She hadn’t wanted to be alone. She never had. But by then, it had seemed too late to change the perception of the faces she saw. The disregard, the amusement, the disgust. They had seemed immutable. And so, she hadn’t tried. She had done her best to be invisible. Because it was easier than fighting against a tide than felt overwhelming. She was too afraid of drowning to do otherwise.

She had heard the boy’s conversation with his friends before he approached her. Her hearing had always been above average, and when you heard your name spoken in first cautious, and then careless, tones behind your back, you got used to honing in on it. There had been a dare. A bet as to whether or not he could get a date with the ‘broken girl.’ They had all been at the age where suddenly, exploring previous unknown urges and interests seemed of the upmost importance. Well, most of them had been. She hadn’t. She still wasn’t. Not in the same way, anyhow, or to the same degree. At least, she didn’t think so. They spoke of crushes, and flirting, and love, and sex, like objects on fire, that burned the skin when they were handled, but were worth the flame. She thought of them in muted terms, as though she was touching the same once-scorching objects, but after they had passed beneath a waterfall, the flames all-but vanquished, only the occasional ember remaining. They were safer to hold, to handle, but the appeal, the allure in the danger, was gone, their extinguished state irrevocable.

His stance had been casual as he walked over, but there was a cruel, cocksure glint in his eye. His tone betrayed just what he thought of her, and what he thought of himself. She was an object, a means to an end (the money involved in the bet), and that was all. He was the lad who was going to win the bet, and she should feel lucky to be used for that purpose.

“Hey.” His tone had dripped smooth self-importance, self-exaggeration. “I’m Maximilian.” He had used his full name, not the Max he went by, as though he could make her persuade by the sheer power of possessing what he no doubt thought was an ‘exotic’ name.

“Hello.” Her reply had been quiet, not really timid, though it could have been mistaken for such. Any who had been less caught up in himself would have recognized that it instead bespoke that she had no interest in talking to him, was aware of what he was doing, and want no part of it.

“I’m going to sit here.” It hadn’t been a question, hadn’t been a request, had been a statement, had almost been a command. A command to accept the fact that she was in his presence, and should treat him with the respect his conceited conscience told him he deserved.

She hadn’t said anything in response to that at first. He had taken that as the acceptance he desired, and taken the seat across from her. “So, you’re Rei, right?” The tone was aggressive, as though he was going to dismiss whatever she said, because he was certain he knew who she was. She had imagined that if she said, simply to deny him, he would have ignored it and preceded ahead as though she had said ‘yes.’ He had been the type of boy who could go either one of two ways. On one hand, he could cross too hard of a line earlier enough that he still had a chance to learn how to be something better. On the other hand, he could grow up to be a man who refused to acknowledge refusals, because he felt he has the right to what he wants. The worst kind of person, Rei thought. The kind who thought that others very selves were second to their own desires. Rei wasn’t sure which path he had ended up taking, but she was very glad that they had gone to different high schools, although she felt bad for whoever ended up being the target of his interests there.

Instead of saying ’no,’ or merely staying silent, Rei had cut to the chase. “I don’t want to go out with you. Please leave me alone.”

This had thrown him for a loop. That much had been clear. He had expected her to at least hear him out. His opinion of himself was high enough that he hadn’t even considered outright disregard, the very same treatment he had intended to give her. The result of course, had been that he had become angry. Furious, really, she imagined, though his sheer pride kept him from making a scene, considering he cared too much for his image as the ‘cool guy.’ Instead, he had leaned in, breaking into her bubble, to spit the words in her face. “You don’t know what you’re missing, stupid bitch. It’s not like anyone ever going to ask out a freak like you. The most attention you’ll ever get will be from some white coat in a psych ward.”

She hadn’t flinched. She had known that it would be her downfall if she did. That breaking was what he wanted, her visible suffering was what he was craving in that moment. He had realized she wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction after a few seconds, and strolled off, still cocky, but surely fuming internally over the fact that he hadn’t managed to get a reaction out of her. Not a twitch in her lips, a blink in her eyes, something to show that she was shattering beneath the calm exterior. Not that she wasn’t. She just knew how to delay the collapse. It had happened later that day, in the safety and solitude of her room, a silent sort of disintegration. No tears, no screams. Just a widening hollow feeling that consumed her from the pit of her stomach, reaching up into her chest cavity, groping at her lungs, sucking the air into, folding her in on herself until she felt small enough to simply stop existing altogether. It wasn’t an uncommon experience in those days. Before she learned how to grow numb to the words, numb to the spite. That came later though. You had to experience enough pain, enough cover crumbling, to learn how to ignore the barbs that brought it on.

She had never told her brother about that particular incident. She hadn’t wanted him to start another fight on her account. She wasn’t sure if he had ever found out. She guessed it was likely he had, although she wasn’t sure what he had done about it (though she thought it was probable he had done something).

The abuse had never been physical, never public, rarely direct. There had been no retaliation for that incident either. She supposed on all accounts that it was because people were afraid of what her brother might do. Or perhaps not her brother, but more accurately, her brother’s friends. She liked them for the most part. The track team members her brother was close to were an anomaly, in that they were some of few decent people she had ever met in the schools she had attended. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. Knowing that she didn’t have to worry about making her brother choose between his sister and his friends. At least not anymore. He had discarded the ones that had tried to sway him away from the familial choice. She supposed then, that he had already made his decision. She felt guilty for that. She felt guilty often, when it came to her brother, and what she perceived as the difficulties she brought into his life. She knew how much he worried for her. Worried that she was afraid, worried that she was hurting, worried that was lonely.

The most painful part of the guilt was knowing the her brother’s fears weren’t altogether unfounded. No, she supposed, they weren’t unfounded at all. She would characterize her feelings as more anxious than afraid, but the other two concerns she knew he held were accurate. The latter led to the former, in a way. She had discovered there was nothing quite like the feeling of isolation, of division from others, to exacerbate preexisting pain. To make it metastasize, grow into something greater than itself. Seclusion bred sorrowful things when it revealed what was latent.

She had never had her brother’s power with people. He had a natural sort of charisma about him, as awkward as he could be at times. He seemed to draw people to him. More important though, words came easy to him. He could carry a conversation when it dashed against rocks, and somehow bring it out to the far side relatively unscathed. Whether it was a matter of skill, or a matter of luck, social things seemed to turn out positive rather than negative for him more often than not.

Words had never come easy to her. Not when she was talking to someone other than her mother or her brother. She could read cues, interpret signs, and understand context well enough, but there was somehow a disconnect when it came to putting all of that into play when encoding something herself. Ironically, and perhaps appropriately, she couldn’t articulate why. She only knew that it made everything harder. That the persona she conveyed caused people to say she was ‘cold,’ or ‘dead,’ or ‘inhuman.’ Those her knew her well knew this wasn’t the case, but aside from her family, the only people who fell into that category were Shinji’s closest friends, who had spent enough time with him, and by extension, with Rei when she was around, that they read her demeanor differently. She didn’t really have friends of her own, she knew that much. It had been that way since she was a child. She had worried her teachers in kindergarten by the fact that she seemed to turn away all the kids who tried to connect with her. This hadn’t changed, and by the time she headed to junior high, no one tried anymore. The teachers had kept worrying of course, but as she got older, this worry had been offset by their satisfaction and appreciation of her academic performance; apparently, at the end of the day, even elementary school teachers cared more about a child’s grades than her ability to fit into classroom society.

She hadn’t understood it then. Hadn’t understood why her responses, her reactions shut others down. It was only after hearing the covert comments too many times that she had realized what other people thought of her. And by then, the road to remake her reputation had seemed entirely too insurmountable.

That perspective had resulted in her leading a life that was half-spent in sequestration. The silver lining to that, of which she constantly reminded herself, was that she had devoted plenty of time to pursuing her passions, even if it was at a solo capacity. The filled bookcases in her room were one testament to that. The filled folders on her laptop were another, and the guitar resting in its stand by her desk was a third. The lack of company had done wonders for her creativity, she supposed. Was it a worthy exchange though? That was all in the eye of the beholder.

Pulling her gaze away from the ceiling, Rei brought it to rest on the guitar sitting by the desk. The chrome elements of Stratocaster-imitation form glistened in the sunlight from the window above her desk, opened to let the breeze flow in (a partially successful attempt to offset the heat without resorting to blasting the AC, because Rei preferred a more natural solution). She knew it would be at the earliest, four hours before her brother made it home. His shifts had been extended recently, on account of another employee quitting. And of course, her mother wouldn’t be home for at least another hour after that, a timetable that had become the new normal over the past several months. There wasn’t much for her to do in the meantime. Shinji was officially the house chef, because he argued that it was a way for him to ‘destress,’ which was his way of saying that cooking was one of his favorite pastimes, and that he didn’t want anyone else in the kitchen, which he had unofficially declared his ‘dignified domain’ in one of his more emphatic (and comedic) moments.

Rei didn’t particularly like summers, primarily because of how empty they often ended up feeling. This summer had been particularly forlorn one, as with her brother spending nearly all of his time either working or in the company of his new friend Kaworu (she suspected that the her brother and the ashen-hair boy would be dating soon, not that she resented Kaworu; from the two brief interactions she had had with him, he seemed quite nice actually), she had been left to her own devices for days on end. At this point, her routines, as much as she appreciated them, had begun to feel somewhat monotonous. She had taken to browsing blogs lately, in search of a new potentially hobby she could try out to add some diversity to her day, but so far, she hadn’t had much lucky finding anything that she had gravitated toward with any great enthusiasm. She had briefly considered trying out her hand at archery, before swiftly coming to the conclusion that as enticing as her visions of Legolasesque prowess were, the actual effort that would undoubtedly be required to achieve any degree of proficiency wasn’t something she quite felt up to. The fact that even if she did manage to become a competent archer, her chances of being able to skate down a staircase atop a shield would most likely remain negligible was also a bit of a buzzkill. And so, at least for the moment, her current hobbies would have to suffice. She decided that tomorrow, she would take a walk down to Off the Shelf! If she was going to stick with what she knew, it wouldn’t hurt to at least get some new reading material. Well, new to her anyway.

With a barely audible sigh proceeding from her lips, Rei pushed herself up and out of her chair, and left the corner of the room, strolling over to her desk lackadaisically. She retrieved her guitar from its stand and plugged it into her practice amp, positioned alongside the desk. Flipping the amp on and turning the volume to a decent level, satisfied with her other levels. She then set herself down in her desk chair and rolled her volume knob up. She paused for a few seconds, thinking of a good song selection. After a moment, she made her decision.

The first palm muted notes sprung out from the guitar as she picked through the intro, before launching into the melody itself, the pensive tone pervading the room. She allowed the traces of a smile to steal onto her face. It was a beautiful song. One which promise never to leave, never to vanish. One whose titled she liked to think vowed to be with her always. It was a piece she was content to return to. That always seemed to make her day a little less lonely.

Perhaps then, the particular events brought about by her playing that afternoon could only be considered highly appropriate. If one was to take this view, then perhaps it could be called an act of fate, rather than a mere coincidence, that Rei did not think to close her window before she started playing on that particular occasion, something which she habitually did, half out of shyness and doubt of her own talent (unfounded doubt, of course, as anyone who had heard her play could attest to), and part out of respect for her the elderly couple who lived next door, whom she suspected were probably not fans of some of the more ‘enthusiastic’ music she played (which was to say, progressive metal). It would, however, be unfair to Rei to blame her for failing to realize that the elderly couple had moved across the country several months before to live closer to their family. It wasn’t as if she interacted with them frequently, or in fact, paid much attention to them at all. They had kept to themselves, something which she also did. On the other hand, a better case could be made to label Rei a bit on the oblivious side for not noticing the new neighbors who had moved in several days before. That had been a bit more of an affair, though not one which either Yui or Shinji could have been aware of, considering it occurred during the day while they were both absent. Rei, on the other hand, had no such excuse. Her excuse would be, if one were to ask her for it, was that she had been particularly engrossed in rereading one of her favorite books on that specific day, which was in fact true. All the same, it meant that she was unaware of her new neighbors. And furthermore, unaware that one of them would soon hear her playing. And of course, logically, this also meant she was unaware that her life was about to change. However, a lack of awareness rarely averts something from happening, and it certainly did not in this case.

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Asuka glared down at the figurine in her hands, scowling. “Dammit,” she grumbled to herself, pulling away the now-severed head from the body of the dragon, and inspecting the jagged break. She spared a glance at the unraveled square of bubble wrap in the box below. “Well that’s just great.” With a sigh and a shake of her head, she set the broken figurine down on top of the bookcase. “I’ll have to fix you later. Gotta ask Misato if we have any glue, or if it’s lost in one of the boxes out in the garage.” She scowled, and turned back to sorting through the contents of the box. She extracted two more figurines from her their bubble wrap entombments, and was pleased to see that her cobra and sorceress were both still intact. Setting them on the shelf beside the beheaded dragon, she grab one of the discarded pieces of bubble wrap and held it up to the light coming through her window. “I guess you didn’t totally fail,” she remarked dryly, before crumpling the strip in her hand and listening to the series of satisfying pops that occurred as a result.

Tossing the now-pointless piece of plastic into the trash bin by her door, she set her hands on her hips and surveyed the pile of boxes that had yet to be unpacked, a hoard still big enough to lay claim to an entire corner of the room with a vengeance. What next? She ran her eyes over the bare walls of the room, finding the off-white coloration unappealing, to say the least. When was this designed? The 80s? Posters it is.

While she now had a goal in mind for the next step in her unboxing/room design (she preferred the latter description, because it sounded more dignified in her mind, and didn’t serve as quite the same reminder that she had just moved, but in all reality, the former was the more accurate description), finding the objects she needed to accomplish that goal was easier said than done. Opening yet another box, and discovering once again that the objects of her intentions were not within (said box instead contained several stacks of CDs, relics of a time before MP3s were the absolute norm), she set it atop the growing pile of boxes that had failed to contain her quarry, with a derisive glance at the blurred face of Avril Lavigne that stared back at her from within. “Why do I even still have you?,” she muttered as she folded the lid back over. And more importantly, why the hell didn’t we label more of these? I blame Kaji. Because yeah, the person who basically didn’t pack up any of my stuff is to blame for why I didn’t label it. Right.

With a roll of her eyes (mostly directed at herself, if she was being honest), she grabbed one more box from the trove. If they’re not in here, I’m taking a break. This is so stupid. As she opened this particular box, she was at that point not surprised to find that rather than the posters she sought, it instead contained two tight rows of game cases. Well, at least I found something decent. Box in hand, she made for the living room. I’m pretty sure Misato left the bottom shelf of the tv stand empty for these.

She was partway through the process of shelving the games when she felt her pocket vibrate. Pausing her activity, she pulled out her phone and looked over the text that had just arrived.

Tiffany H: How’s day four of the move-in going?

Asuka considered the question for a moment, before writing her response.

Asuka R: About as well as the first three lol.

Asuka R: As in, tedious

Asuka R: How’s life in Terahburg?

Tiffany H: Oh, fun. Same as always, tbh.

Asuka R: Aww, and here I thought you’d be sweet and say it was boring without me or something ;)

Tiffany H: Oh, I mean, you’re right! Whatever will we do? Life’s lost all purpose now that you’re gone xD

Asuka R: Now that’s more like it!

Tiffany H: We’re all lost without you Asuka! We’ll never see the light again without you!

Asuka R: And don’t you forget it!

Tiffany H: In fact, the entire town might perish out of sheer sorrow! Our lives our meaningless now!

Asuka R: Okay, that might be a bit of a stretch. . .

Tiffany H: Ya think? Lol

Asuka R: Hey, don’t stop on my account!

Tiffany H: I’m running out of material here *shrugs*

Asuka R: And here I thought you were a true thespian!

Tiffany H: Yeah, but talking about you gets boring after a while. ;)

Asuka R: I’m hurt. Deeply hurt. *turns nose up*

Tiffany H: There, there, you’ll survive. Just don’t drink the Asherdale kool-aid and forget we exist. Lol

Asuka R: Asherdale kool-aid? Seriously?

Tiffany H: Like I said, I’m running out of material here. Don’t @ me.

Asuka R: Uh huh

Asuka R: Right

Tiffany H: So, what’s the ‘dale like? We got any competition?

Asuka R: I’ll let you know when I figure out what the ’the ‘dale’ is

Tiffany H: Ur 1mp0ssebl3

Asuka R: My eyes are scarred now, thx

Tiffany H: You deserved it. So, what’s the ‘dale like?

Asuka R: Best adjective = boring

Tiffany H: RIP

Asuka R: No competition so far, so you don’t need to worry. The best they have going for them is an

arcade.

Tiffany H: An arcade?

Asuka R: Yeah, I saw it when we were getting into town. Looked it up, it’s some sort of retro deal.

Tiffany H: Retro arcades? Is that a thing now?

Asuka R: Apparently it is in the northwest.

Tiffany H: Whelp, sounds great

Asuka R: Oh yeah, fr

Tiffany H: Well, enjoy ur arcade. I gtg get ready for work.

Asuka R: Ok, say hi to Amanda for me!

Tiffany H: Will do! Ttyl!

When she had finished shelving the games, Asuka made her way back to her room, a determined glint in her eyes (not an unusual expression for her). Alright, now it’s poster time! I don’t care if I have to go through every damn box in that corner, I am finding them! I’m not going to let an outdated 80s color palate get the best of me! And plus, her mind added as an afterthought, Once they’re up, maybe it’ll actually start feeling a little more like my room. And less like someone else’s room, that I’m just staying in. A frown briefly crossed her face, but she tossed it away, steeling her mouth into a resolute line.

Approximately forty-five minutes later, the stack of boxes was no longer a stack, but instead a small pond spread across half of the room. Asuka, meanwhile, was red in the face, and looked as though she was a few steps away from steam vents cartoonishly bursting out of her ears. One final, unopened box sat in the corner, the last remnant of the toppled tower. She knelt by it, her face spelling murder, and began to cut through the tape with her pocket knife. . .

“Verdammt, wo sind sie?! Das ist lächerlich!” (Dammit, where are they?! This is ridiculous!)

She punched floor next to her, gritting her teeth as she looked down at the contents of the last box, namely a set of drum skins, and her stick bag. Still glowering, she removed these items and headed to the spare room. Might as well put these with my kit anyway. She couldn’t deny that one positive of this house was the presence of the extra bedroom, which meant that her designated practice space was no longer a garage. That was definitely a positive. Even if it one of the only ones so far.

Setting the sticks down by her stool and the drum skins alongside her drum cases in the corner, she looked over at the kit with a degree of temptation in her eyes. I should probably at least try to finish unpacking, now that I covered my entire room. But . . . I mean, it could help me calm down. And ignore the fact that we probably forgot the box with my posters somewhere. Walking over, she took her seat behind the kit and grabbed a couple sticks from the sling that hung off the floor tom. Just something to blow off steam. I don’t need to practice a song or anything. She was about to count herself off (out of habit rather than necessity, really), when an adventitious sound reached her ears. She blinked, pausing. That sounds . . . oddly like “Always With Me, Always With You.” She looked around, searching for the source of the faint guitar playing she had picked up. Her eyes locked in on the window behind her, which until that moment, she hadn’t noticed was partially open. Rising from her seat and dropping her sticks back into the sling bag, she walked over to the window and looked out.

This particular window looked down on the strip of the yard which ran alongside the building, and faced the house next door. She couldn’t be certain, but it sounded to her as though the music was coming out of one the windows of that house, which also happened to be opened. Her interest piqued, she decidedly to get a closer look. She headed for the stairs.

Emerging out into the backyard, she made for the wall that marked the border between her family’s yard, and the neighbor’s property. It wasn’t much of a wall, really. It only reached slightly higher than her midriff. She looked down at it skeptically. Well, I could practically step over this is if I wanted to. Guess they’re not too worried about trespassing.

Outside and closer to the guitar playing which floated out into the air, it was relatively easy to determine that its source was indeed the window she had identified earlier. Glancing up toward said window now, Asuka pursed her lips, faced with a bit of a decision. One one hand, she could forget about it and head back inside. She had determined the location of the unseen guitarist, and considering he or she was her neighbor, it seemed like there was a decent chance she’d be able to find out who the guitarist was eventually. On the other hand, going back in and continuing with her unpacking wasn’t the most enticing of options. In the end, she chose the path that let her procrastinate on facing her bedroom’s recently introduced ground cover.

Climbing up over the half-wall, she jumped down into the neighbors’ yard. She decided that if she ran in to any sort of trouble, or said neighbors turned out to be less than thrilled by her trespassing, she could book it back to her house with relative ease. It wasn’t as if the wall would provide any significant barrier. Plus, it’s not as though I’m going to try to break into their house or anything. I mean, I’m going to go ring the doorbell. Though I suppose I could have just gone out to the street from my house and gone over that way. Oh well. This’ll be fine.

Still listening to the solo (which, as she heard more of it and paid greater attention, she had to admit sounded quite good) rolling down from the open window, Asuka walked up along the side of the house, and curved around to the front until she found herself standing directly in front of the door. Alright, here we go. Plan ‘avoid unpacking’ #1, activate! Reaching up, she pressed in the doorbell and waited. She heard a bell-toweresque recording play from somewhere close by the door inside in response to the ring. That’s an interesting choice for a doorbell. Sounds sort of like an antique clock. That might not be a good sign . . . I can’t imagine anyone under the age of fifty using that for their doorbell. Oh well. If it turns out the guitarist is a retiree or something, I can always still act polite or something, say I thought his or her playing sounded pretty good, and then bail. Simple enough.

Asuka waited for a good thirty seconds, wondering if someone was going to come to the door. After a few more moments, she decided that the answer to that question was probably a definitive ‘no.’ Hmm . . . now the question is, do I ring the doorbell again? Or do I just head back home? On one hand, they might have heard it and just don’t want to answer, and in that case, I don’t want to be the jerk who can’t take a hint. On the other hand, maybe they just didn’t hear it the first time. That’s a possibility too. Which means it might not hurt to wring it again. Asuka pulled out her phone and looked down at the clock on the lock screening, waiting for it to change. I’ll give them another minute. If no one comes by then, I’ll ring it one more time. And if no one shows up after that too, I’ll head back to my place.

Watching the digits on the screen, Asuka gave a small nod to herself as the moment passed. She reached forward and gave the doorbell a final ring. Once again, she heard the recording play from within the house. You know, I think I’d get pretty tired of that if it was my doorbell. Just imagine what that would be like if someone tried to prank you by ringing it repeatedly. That would get real annoying, real quick.

After another solid twenty seconds or so, Asuka came to the conclusion that no one was coming to the door. Shrugging, she turned and headed back out toward the sidewalk, content to make her way home. Well, I tried. Guess I’ll find out who the guitarist is another day. Unboxing time it is then. Lovely. However, as she turned away from the path up to the door and angled herself back toward her resident, she heard the faint sound of the guitar carrying out from alongside the house. This time, however, it was a different song. She paused, narrowing her eyes in focus as she searched for the title. Oh, come on, I know I know this one. It’s not Satriani though . . . I don’t think it’s Vai either. Dammit, who is it? She shook her head, disgruntled with the fact that she couldn’t place the tune. Fantastic. Now that’s going to be stuck in my head and bugging me for the rest of the day. Presque vu sucks like that. It was at that instant that another thought snuck into her mind. The guitarist could be the only person home. That would explain why no one came to the door. If they’re practicing, they might have earbuds in or headphones on, which would mean they couldn’t hear me. So, I’d have to get their attention with something else. And their window is open . . .

Asuka practically sprinted the short distance back to her house, a confident grin across her face. When she finally emerged from the back door roughly five minutes later, she was glad to hear that the mysterious musician was still playing. Once again, the guitarist had moved on to a new song. This one, however, Asuka recognized. “Tender Surrender,” she murmured. “Not a bad choice.” At this point, Asuka was almost certain that whoever was playing was probably a good bit older than her. I mean, seriously, Steve Vai hasn’t been big since the nineties. At least, I don’t think so. I mean, I only know him because of Kaji, so that definitely says something. But hey, I’m not a guitarist though, so who knows? Maybe they still adore him or something. All the same, her desire to avoid completing (or at the very least, returning to) her unpacking process outweighed her potential concerns. Plus, her new plan kept her even further away from the person whose attention she was trying to get. Which meant that if they didn’t care for her methods, she could be long gone before they could do much about it. The logic of her strategy was moderately convincing, if she did say so herself, even if it was purely designed to give her a somewhat rational justification to her better judgment for her own procrastination.

Pulling herself up and over the sad excuse for a dividing wall, Asuka found herself in the as-of-yet-nameless neighbors’ yard once again. She strolled over a little closer to the house, positioning herself so that she was in a direct line with the open window. I have to say, this is one way I never expected that year I pitched for the softball team in middle school to come in handy. She looked down at the construction in her hand, the centerpiece of her quickly-concocted scheme. Guess all of that packing newspaper might turn out to have a second purpose too. Hopefully it’ll do better at this than it did at keeping Misato’s shot glass collection intact. With a chuckle to herself, Asuka rolled her arm back, lifting the paper airplane into the air, and let it fly toward her target. It soared upward, its arc accurate, and slipped straight through the open window, disappearing from her view.

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

Rei was nearing the close of the song. Her plectrum had been relegated to a secondary position, pinched between her pinky and ring fingers, to keep it from obstructing her fingerpicking. Only the pads of her skin now met the coils of steel, coaxing melody from the taut metal. Though the piece was not an anthemic one at any point, never attaining any great summit or volume in its course, it had still diminished from its peak, drifting back into itself as the notes grew more wavering, less forceful. They now resembled soft, intermittent tears intermingled with trembling gasps, though whether these expressions were borne out of sorrow or ecstasy was a mystery offered up to the beholder’s mind for judgement.

In her mind, Rei could hear, could feel the presence of the band about her. Every feature, each individual auditory fragment of the track came to her as she moved her fingers, by memory rather than sight. She listened as the band’s accompaniment slowly gave way, dissolving into pleasant stillness, sending its light and focus toward the guitar’s shuddering cry, until it was the only sound left to fill the emptiness, in soundscape both physical and mental. But fill this space it did nonetheless, each caressed, drawn note wandering through the fold’s of her shut eyes, dancing over the defined, stringent edges of her desk and shaving them down into something smoother, unbroken, winding. Blurring the room she half-saw through the image she conceived, transfiguring the elements of the space to abstraction, melting the absolute and the tangible into the fantastical, the speculative.

As she glided into the final phrase, she slowed even further, elongating the notes, letting their voices sing louder than her conducting digits. She had led the song to its conclusion, she let the song itself lead what was left. It extended, sweeping over the growing seconds, echoing as it reiterated, reprising and refusing to fade. Rei followed the draw, her fingers seemingly moving of a will other than her own, glad assistants in the art. At last, the final reverberation arrived, pleading, yet peaceful. There were seven notes left, which dwindled to six, and from there it faded to five, a receding handful.

The fifth note was about to declare its presence when the moment was broken. Something struck Rei’s forehead, fracturing her concentration and dream state alike to shards. Her fingers fell from their unconscious ballet, the necessary pressure absent. The string buzzed against the fret before it died an abrupt dead, cut off by its impact against her lax digit. The song was stripped into nothing, the ending cumbersome and unheeding, true closer beyond its grasp. Rei’s eyes tore open as her hand plunged away from the neck, dropping limp to her side as she stared sightlessly at the desk before her, her blank visage betraying no hint of her acute bemusement.

Rei dropped her pick onto the top of the desk, and lifted the instrument from her lap, returning it to its stand once more. Slanting her head downward, she reached out and retrieved the ostensibly offending object from the floor by her feet. Lifting it into her lap, she rotated it around in her grasp for a few moments, examining the shaped newsprint, complied into a new structure, a form capable of flight synthesized from ink and pulped fibers. Adjacent to weightless, an insubstantial avian, an artificial imitation. Its name was derived from bellowing metallic brutes that claimed the skies as their domain, raging turbines thrumming, incensed engines clamoring, the bellow of war on their wings and a cold caterwaul in their grinding wheels as they wrenched away from the ground and took their place in the belly of the beast. Such a marked difference, an undeniable dichotomy, between this tenuous newspaper lark and those titanium pterosaurs that prowled the clouds at humanity’s behest. To think that both such beings were constructed and christened by the same species was a perplexing, confounding concept, one which spoke to the multitudinous nature of sentience. It could give attention no less assiduous than the sedulous scrutiny bestowed upon the architecture of alleged advancement to the most minute of pursuits. The value of each undertaking determined by the engineers, by the consumers, by whatever society observed its progress.

It was curious, the capacity which such a seemingly innocuous, inconsequential object possessed to act as a conduit for contemplations of the existential and philosophical varieties. Nevertheless, Rei pulled her thoughts away from such metaphysical meanderings and extracted her eyes from their glazed gaze, elevating them from the errant examination. Equally curious were the origins of the airplane. Her emphasis adjusted accordingly, Rei rested the newsprint coated craft on her desktop and rose from her seat to survey the yard from her window.

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

Asuka watched the empty window closed, scrutinizing the vacuum that had devoured her airplane several moments earlier. It showed no signs of providing any sort of reaction to that consumption. However, Asuka was nonetheless certain beyond any shadow of a doubt that her newspaper agent had fulfilled its intended purpose. Moments before, the song, which had crawled to a languid and hazy, yet subtly rapturous, finale, had come to a clipped conclusion. There was no mistaking that the ending was unintentional. The last note had been mostly-dead, the tone dulled and buzzed out, a quickly recognizable accident, that had been replaced by silence in an instant, the bum note sheared from existence before it could linger. That . . . was rough. Ooops. Well, hopefully they don’t get too annoyed.

At first, Asuka had expected that the guitarist would take one of two routes. On one hand, the musician might immediately make an appearance, due to the sudden interruption, and apparent derailment of the song. This had seemed to be the most probable outcome to Asuka. After all, most musicians didn’t appreciate being disrupted while they were in the midst of a piece. On the other hand, the guitarist might first finish the song, and then come to the window. Though the second possible outcome seemed somewhat less likely than the first, Asuka knew that there were many individuals who took their musicianship seriously to the extent that they would merely continue onward as if they had never been disturbed in the first place, until they finished their performance. Of course, given that the guitarist was practicing rather than performing, Asuka didn’t expect that this would be the case.

This was all to say that Asuka was not prepared for the reaction occasioned by her action. Or, to be more precise, the lack thereof. Asuka had firmly expected the guitarist to do something. Which was why she grew progressively more and more agitated, albeit it in an understated manner, as the seconds flew by and it appeared as though her ‘delivery’ had prompted positively no response whatsoever. No one appeared at the window, nor did the playing resume, and furthermore, there was not so much as the slightest audible outburst in response to the disruption. Aside from the botched note and the vexatious silence, there was nothing to indicate that the guitarist had even noticed the paper aircraft.

Asuka tilted her head as she continued to stare up at the window, her cheeks and lips creasing downward into the beginning of a frown. Come on, do something. Or are you actually going to just ignore that? Of course, there was no answer to this question, given that Asuka had inquired it of her own mind, rather than posing it out loud. The stillness stretched longer, no termination in sight. Asuka rested a hand against her hip, before dropping it back to her side. That might send the wrong sorta message when they finally decide to show up. If they decide to show up. Asuka’s frown had now passed its infancy, maturing into a full-blown line of irritation. Which is looking less and less likely. A measure of tension had filled the air, as anticipation of a reaction had turned to exasperation, and perhaps a portion of perturbation as well. The tension gave no indication that it had any intention of abating prior to Asuka’s departure. Well that’s just great. Dammit, I guess it’s back to my lovely, most definitely not covered in a mound of boxes room. Fantastic. Rolling her eyes, Asuka half-turned to withdraw, when a figure suddenly appeared in the window. Asuka hastily righted herself as her gaze locked in on the arrival. Took you long enough.

The person looking out of the window was not who Asuka had been expecting. The figure’s blue locks glistened vaguely in the sunlight as it touched them. Her eyes were dark, a rich, bark-like brown, the hue of tilled soiled moistened by a smattering of a rain. They practically gleamed with racing thoughts, deep pools of incalculable deliberation. It was the overall aura of her face, however, that knocked Asuka from her stride. It was expressionless, utterly unreadable, beyond the definitive certainty that the mind behind worked tirelessly and furiously. Asuka could discern no trace, however slight, of any sentiment or emotion in it. The emptiness, the absence, was uncanny. Asuka’s mind raced as well now, seeking an explanation for the void she beheld. Maybe I’m just too far away. After all, I’m a good distance from where she is. Maybe if we were closer, I’d be able to tell . . . something. Her attempts at persuading herself that this was a reasonable explanation failed miserably. The argument was woefully, blatantly incorrect. There was no denying the simple fact that the girl’s face, despite the fact that it appeared as if she was no older than Asuka, perhaps even younger, could have easily belonged to someone who spent years perfecting the perfect vizard. Somehow, I get the feeling that she’s never lost a poker game.

The duo’s encounter began in silence, both parties merely taking in the other, no words exchanged. Asuka did her best to hide her own feelings of confusion, as well as residual irritation. Can’t match her poker face, but I might as well try to not look too worked up. When the silence had lasted long enough to become uncomfortable, especially when combined with the force of the girl’s undeviating gaze, Asuka decided she would have to break it, as it didn’t seem feasible that the supposed guitarist would be the one to do so.

“Hey, you sounded good!,” Asuka called up, doing her best to sound both amicable and positive, in spite of the fact that these weren’t the foremost sentiments in her mind.

The girl said nothing in response, though Asuka briefly thought she spotted the barest, vaguest hint of a smile alight on the edges of the girl’s mouth for a split second. Well, no news is good news, right? And who doesn’t like a compliment? Guess I might have to do the heavy lifting in the conversation though. “That was Tender Surrender, right?”

The girl remained silent, but gave a small nod of her head, her expression unchanged. Asuka decided she would interpret this as an encouraging reaction. I mean, she doesn’t seem angry that I disrupted her earlier, so all things considered, I’m going to take this as a success so far. “Steve Vai is pretty cool. Classic 80s guitar, you know?”

The girl nodded again, blinking as she did so, before resuming her stare. Is that the first time I’ve seen her blink?, Asuka wondered. Because I think it is, and that’s more than a little bit unnerving. Because I’m almost positive she’s been staring at me for a couple minutes. No way, she must have blinked earlier. People don’t go minutes without blinking. That would be . . . unusual . . . and most likely not healthy for your eyes.

Asuka decided to try out a different subject. There’s got to be something that will get her to talk . . . right? Maybe? Hopefully . . . ?

“Anyway, I heard you earlier, and I wanted to see who the good guitarist was.” She bookended this with an agreeable chuckle, that was roughly eighty-five percent forced. “I’m Asuka Kaji. I just moved in to the house next door,” she pointed back over her her shoulder, “a few days ago.”

The girl tilted her head as she received this information, giving Asuka the impression that this was in fact new to her, and she was taking some time to process it. A few more seconds passed, and at last, the girl spoke. “I’m Rei Ikari,” she paused, and then added, “Thank you.” Her voice was soft, but carried down from the window fairly well all the same. It had a calmness to it, that matched up perfectly with her reserved demeanor. It was nearly a monotone, but not quite. There was a note of inflection in it, an element of what Asuka thought was cheerfulness, though it was difficult for her to be certain.

This time, Asuka was the one who tilted her head. Well, at least I got her name. Not sure why she’s thanking me though. “What for?,” she inquired, maintaining her amicable exterior, which was somewhat less forced than it had been several seconds earlier. Perhaps only seventy-five percent at this point, possibly even seventy.

Rei answered in the same voice, devoid of all but a hint of pleasantry. “For the compliment. I’m glad you like my playing.” Asuka hung on to that hint of pleasantry, decoding it to mean that Ikari was genuinely happy. At least, I hope that’s what it means. Although, she could just be putting on a front just like me. I’ll say she’s genuine for now though. It’s easier to be friendly when I don’t have to constantly second guess the other person.

Asuka smiled again, an expression which was mostly real. “No problem. Like I said, you sounded good.”

Rei nodded to this, but didn’t say anything immediately. Instead, she looked down, at something obscured from Asuka’s sight, and then back up at the other girl. “Would you like to come to the door? You won’t have to shout up from there?”

Asuka wasn’t quite sure that the volume she had been speaking at could be deemed shouting per se, but in comparison to Ikari’s subdued volume, she supposed she could see the logic in the other girl’s words. “Sure. Sounds like a good idea.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Rei intoned, not deviating in the slightest from what appeared to be her default voice. Stepping away from the window, she disappeared from Asuka’s view. Asuka set off along the side of the house, making for the front door, considering their conversation so far as she did so. Okay, saying ‘default voice’ might be a bit harsh. Makes it sound like she’s a robot or something. I don’t think she’s AI. I mean, probably not. She allowed herself a quiet little chortle as she rounded the corner and strolled over to the porch. She paused in front of the door. Guess I don’t need to ring the doorbell. Which means I get to avoid the antique clock. Or bell tower. Whichever one it sounds like. Probably both. Either way, not hearing it is a positive.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door in front of her opening. Rei halted in the doorway, looking at Asuka. Up close, Asuka couldn’t discern any substantial differences from what she had already observed of Rei’s demeanor. However, the hints of a smile which she thought she had spotted earlier were more pronounced now that Asuka had a better view, making Ikari look moderately more genial to Asuka’s eyes. Huh, maybe I was right. She’s more friendly when I’m not looking up at her framed in a window. And I thought that argument was absurd. Even though it was my argument. Ha! Shows what you know, me!

Asuka smiled back at Rei, the most genuine one she had offered Ikari so far. Abruptly, Rei held out a hand toward Asuka. She looked down, and her smile fell a bit. The blue-haired girl was holding out the paper airplane to her. “Is this yours?,” she asked, giving no signs that she was angry, which threw Asuka off once again. Alright, maybe she’s just at good at hiding when she’s upset as she seems to be at hiding when she’s happy. Then again . . . I don’t see anything. Not in her face, or her posture. And she still smiling. Well, if that’s what that is, I mean. Maybe I didn’t actually disrupt her? Maybe she just messed up on her own? Or maybe she really doesn’t care?

Asuka nodded slowly, assuming an empathetic expression, less cheerful and slightly more chagrined. Just slightly, however. She wasn’t one to act particular embarrassed, even if she was. Not that she “Yeah, that’s mine. Sorry if I threw you off, by the way.”

Rei extended her hand a little further, offering the miniature parody of an aircraft to the redhead. “It’s okay. I was nearing the song’s conclusion anyway.”

Asuka accepted the offered airplane. “You sure?”

Rei nodded. “Yes. Your technique isn’t bad.”

Once again, Rei managed to say something that Asuka was not anticipating. My technique? Where did that come from? This is kind of getting on my nerves. A little bit, anyway Who just randomly switches topic mid-conversation like that? “What technique?”

“Your folding technique. It’s effective. Do you make origami?”

Oh. That is not what I expected her to say. “Ah, okay. Thanks. But no, I don’t.” I mean, technically I have, but I don’t need to tell her about how great that went. Damn cat. Since when do cats eat paper anyway? When did that become a thing? And to think people say dogs are the ones who will eat anything.

“I think you’d be good at it if you tried,” Rei said sensibly.

“I’ll let you know if I ever try it out.”

Rei nodded, her faint smile becoming somewhat more defined, as if this was the most logical and appropriate response, and she appreciated that Asuka had used it. Asuka decided it was time for her to get in another question, before the conversation took an additional unpredictable turn. “So, do you go to Sarea High?” Might as well figure out if she’ll be going to the same school as me in the fall. It wouldn’t be a bad idea at all to know some people before I get there.

Rei only nodded again in answer to this question.

“Cool. I’ll be going there in the fall. You a,” she made a quick estimate of how old she thought Ikari looked to be, “junior?”

Rei shook her head. “I’m a senior.”

Well, I was only off by a year, that’s not too bad. “Me too.” You know, for expecting the mystery guitarist to be some guy in his forties, it turns out we have a lot more in common than I thought.

Rei didn’t respond to this information, but merely continued to look at Asuka, her head tilting slightly to the side, the smile on her face seeming more prominent than ever, though still more of a light impression than a defined expression. Asuka met the girl’s gaze for a moment, and matched the bluenette’s smile with a wider one of her own. I mean . . . she’s kind of unusual, but she doesn’t seem so bad. Could definitely do with talking a bit more, but whatever. “Are you in band?”

Rei shook her head. “No. I’d like to be in jazz ensemble though.”

Asuka grinned, and remarked, “I mean, from how you sounded earlier, I’m sure you could tackle jazz. Plus, it’s fun for guitarists!” Is it my imagination, or is that a tiny tint of blush I see on her cheeks right now.

“Thank you. Again,” Rei said softly. “I haven’t auditioned though.”

Asuka’s smile faltered, and she pursed her lips. “Why not?”

The imprint of a smile and the vague reddening slipping from her face, Rei shrugged. “Nerves, I guess,” she answered.

“Ah. I understand.” I’ve been there. Who hasn���t? But hell, she’s definitely good enough to make the cut! Especially in a town like this. I highly doubt they have a great jazz scene here or anything. Asuka paused, but then set off again, more animated, “Well hey, you should audition this fall! I’m going to be there! So there’ll for sure be someone else there who knows you’re a fantastic guitar!”

The mild coloring that Asuka suspected was a blush most definitely returned to Rei’s face with this comment. Without meeting Asuka’s gaze, a strange change from her pattern up to that point, she replied, “Maybe so.”

“Well, think about it at least.”

Rei nodded, and after another handful of seconds had elapsed, asked, “What instrument do you play?”

“I play drums,” Asuka answered.

Rei looked back to Asuka once more, her indistinct smile back on her face. “Are you going to do marching band?”

Asuka shook her head. “No, I prefer playing with a full kit. That’s why I’m going for jazz ensemble instead. It’s what I did at my old school back east in Terahburg.”

“That makes sense.”

“Yep,” Asuka stated smartly. A new idea had emerged in her mind, one which didn’t seem like a half bad one. “You know, we should jam together sometime. Since we’re literally next door to each other.”

Rei said nothing at first, but Asuka noticed that the blue-haired girl’s eyes looked more distant now, practically looking straight past Asuka. She was tempted to turn around, to see if there was something behind her worthy of attention, but she somehow doubted there was. She’s probably just appraising the idea. She seems like the type of person who thinks things over. Thinks things over intensely, to be precise.

When the space between the two girls had lapsed into silence for approximately thirty seconds, Rei spoke up. “What type of music do you like?”

Asuka gave a small shrug in response to this. “The short answer is, I like a lot of stuff. I’m open to pretty much anything. And the long answer is, well, long.” She let out a little laugh to accompany her quip. “But, you might be able to tell,” she shot a pointed glance down at her shirt, which featured an image of a man removing his face from his skull to reveal a bundle of bandages beneath it, an action which was surprisingly depicted in a manner that wasn’t particularly gruesome (which she personally thought a rather unusual choice for a gothic metal album cover, but she enjoyed the art nonetheless, a fact evidence by her possession of the shirt), “I like metal.”

Rei’s eyes followed Asuka’s indication, and studied her garment, taking in the image. “That is interesting,” she commented, giving no real suggestion of her actual opinion of the artwork. “However, I’m not familiar with Lacuna Coil.”

Asuka curled her lips into a wry half-smile. “Not enough people are. They’re pretty awesome though. If you like gothic metal, that is.”

Rei nodded gently, in a manner that came across as fairly noncommittal. “I’ll have to check them out.” Her tone didn’t particularly evince true interest either, thought Asuka couldn’t say that it suggested the opposite for that matter. It fell in line with almost all of Rei’s speech, in that it was nothing if not neutral and more than a little ambiguous. I guess you could call it balanced. It could go equally toward either side.

“So,” Asuka began, “What about you?”

“As in, what type of music do I like?,” Rei countered, seeking clarification.

“Yep.”

“I enjoy instrumental music. Especially when the guitar is the main focus.”

“I get ya, that makes sense,” Asuka remarked with a nod .

“But, I am open to many types of music as well,” Rei added.

“That always cool. Variety keeps things entertaining.”

“Indeed,” Rei agreed, though her voice showed no particular enthusiasm. The sentiment more closely resembled an acknowledgement of a basic principle that could only be recognized as a fact of life, rather than an identification with a specific, shared perspective. After this observation, she fell silent once more. Asuka tilted her head to the side, waiting for the other girl to continue, but she did not seem eager to break the silence which had descended. Well, she basically avoided that question. Or at least, she avoided giving a direct answer to it. I could press the issue, or save it for another time. Oh come on, I’m not one to save things for another time. She doesn’t seem to mind me too much so far. I’m gonna roll with that.

Asuka decided to reiterate her point. “So, what do ya think?”

“About what?,” Rei asked, her eyes twitching momentarily.

“About playing together sometime?”

Rei tilted her head to the side, before righting it and nodding. “I think that would be a good idea.”

“Cool!”

“Yeah,” Rei concurred, the smallest vestige of excitement briefly filling her voice. Asuka picked up on the alteration, as quickly as it passed. That sounded encouraging!

“Well, hey, let me give you my number, so you can get in touch with me when you want to. That work for you?

“Okay.” Rei extracted her phone from her pocket, a movement which Asuka mirrored.

It was when she glanced down at her phone that Asuka noted the time. Her eyes widened for a brief second. Crap! It’s that late already! Seriously, I’ve been here that long? I probably need to actually try to finish unpacking at least some of those boxes today. If only so I can move across my room without climbing on top of them. Oh well . . . all good procrastination has to end eventually.

Rei cradled her phone in her hands for a few moments. Asuka got the impression that Rei was a little hesitant (for whatever reason) to hand it over for Asuka to put in her number. Selecting a different strategy, Asuka opened her contact profile and held the phone out for Rei to see. “Here, you can just copy off of that. If you don’t want me to put my number in yours, I mean.”

Rei looked at the offered device for another moment or two, and then nodded. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Rei inspected the displayed information for a moment, and then quickly typed something into her phone. “Got it,” she announced.

“Awesome.” Asuka withdrew her phone and slid it back into her pocket. “Look, I gotta bounce. I still have lots of unpacking left to do.” She grinned and chuckled. “My room looks like a minor tornado or something tore threw it. So that’s fun.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Rei responded quietly, but the expression on her face gave the words weight. The impression of a smile that had lingered there for much of the conversation at the door had finally blossomed into something which could be firmly identified as a smile, even if it was a small, uncertain one.

“You too!,” Asuka agreed cheerily. Alright, now the question is, what will she interpret as a proper goodbye? This question proved unnecessary, as Rei gave Asuka another small nod, and then retreated into the house, closing the door behind her, in a startlingly swift burst of activity. Asuka blinked, shrugged mentally, and turned to go, trotting back out to the sidewalk.

Well, all things considered, I’d say that counts as an utter victory. Mystery guitarist turned out to be both under the age of thirty, and overall, pretty likable, at least, I think so. Not to mention I have someone to practice with already, and I’ve only been here a few days. And she lives next door. That’s a pretty great coincidence, I can’t lie. And best of all, I avoided unpacking for a solid half hour more. That’s the real success story here.

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

Rei didn’t leave after closing the door. She remained in the hall, watching the girl through the peephole as she departed. She couldn’t say exactly why she did it, only that it felt like the appropriate thing to do. When at last the redhead disappeared from her field of vision, she turned away from the door, and made her way to the kitchen. A strange sensation had developed in the pit of her stomach as they conversed. As with her logic for remaining at the door, the reason behind it barely escaped her mental grasp, as did an appropriate name for it. At best, she could characterize it as an unsettling experience, but not an unpleasant one. The feeling of a warbling tremor creeping up toward her chest, and then shying down and away once more. It played just beyond her reach, content to lurk there. Her first thought had been that perhaps food would lay the disturbance to rest. However, as she sat at the table and contemplated the granola bar she had retrieved from one of the cabinets that ringed the kitchen proper, she came to the abrupt realization that she lacked both the appetite and interest to eat it. Dropping the item in question back onto the tabletop, she tilted her head back to consider her kitchen ceiling. She decided that she preferred this view to the similar one she had observed earlier in the day.

There were fewer unpleasant memories wrapped up in this one. At least, that was the explanation she provided to herself, citing it as being the rationale reason for her mood. Because, clearly, it made perfect sense that studying the structure of the kitchen ceiling would fill her with a disconcerting, apprehensive excitement, but excitement all the same. Any other explanation would beg further questions. Questions she thought it was far, far, far too soon to be even touching upon. And that was without taking into account the fact that the excitement shied away from analysis. She suspected any efforts to investigate it would only yield confusing results. Results that led to the very same questions she wished to avoid. The safer alternative, then, was the ceiling. She was excited over the ceiling. Surely, if inspecting the ceiling of her bedroom could trigger a cascade of doubts and memories, inspecting the kitchen ceiling could make her feel giddy with an opaque happiness, until her brain was too muddled to focus on the shapes in the plaster and they meshed together into an indistinct collage of lines that made her eyes water when she tried to trace the maze she envision within it. Right?

[enmy-writes]

My Rock Star

Request: Anon: hii can i request a zuko x reader fic where the reader is in a famous girl group (like blackpink for example) & the whole gaang is backstage while the reader is getting ready for a performance & its just super fluffy & cute? Thanks!!

Word Count: 2,646

Fandom: ATLA (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Pairing: Zuko x Fem!Reader

Genre: All fluff. It’s some nice fluff time

Rated: 18+

Content Warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse (not detailed though), suggested themes but nothing bad

****My first request!! Sorry, anon, if I didn’t capture everything you wanted, but I hope it is! I am a sucker for music and bands, and instead of a blackpink approach, I gave the band instruments because I simp for instruments lol I might do a part 2 if this turns out well so lmk! Also, I learned how to make the “keep reading” line show up so that’s exciting yay me. Enjoy :)****

_______________________________________________________________________

It was about two hours before the show was supposed to start and Y/N was doing her normal self-routine before she had to go to her ‘Band-Team-Gang’ (or BTG as her and the girls liked to call it) pre-show rituals. 

Y/N was a part of a famous girl group who had just recently started making it big in Ba Sing Se and were on their first huge tour. Normally, this would make any performer nervous of the attention and putting on a big show, but this was the environment that she thrived in. 

Suki, Mai, Ty Lee, Azula, Yue, and herself all knew each other from an all-girl’s private school that they grew up in together and bonded immediately over their love for creating music. It was inevitable for them to become a group. 

They spent most of their high school days writing songs and joking around in Y/N’s backyard bungalow her parents had gotten her for her twelfth birthday. To this day, they still go back there and do hot (dumb) girl shit.

“Why would we stop? That’s our home, of course we’d still go back there!” Ty Lee answered the interviewer with her signature hair flip and giggle. 

Azula rolled her eyes at the girl, hiding a fond smile. “At this point, It’d be weird not to go back to that little corner of hell we made.” Yue smacked her arm quickly, “Azula! Don’t act like you haven’t written most of our top hits in the bean bag we definitely didn’t steal from the school lounge.” 

The rest of the girls laughed, remembering how they had to hop the gates and sneak past the night guards to be able to get the bean bag. The plan would’ve been a total waste of time and definitely would have gotten them all expelled if anyone had caught them, but thank Mai’s ability to pick locks (which no one knows where she learned to do but they do not question it). 

“Plus,” Suki chimed in. “Y/N’s dad makes the best snacks and meals for us. It’d be a federal crime to not take up that offer for as long as we can.”

Needless to say, the six girls were so comfortable with each other that every performance was just like every group practice with, like, thousands of extra guests of honor. They even have a couch lounge area as part of their stage set props. It just makes sense.

Even though those were her best friends ever, sisters even, Y/N had another friend group that she was super close with. Azula had introduced Y/N to her brother, Zuko, back when they were in their sophomore year of high school and the two instantly clicked. It had only taken a year of being friends and hiding crushes for them to get together, and the two were still going strong. Through him, Y/N met a gang of (crazy) people that he had spent his whole public schooling years.

Aang, an enthusiastic and bald, vegan kid who loved life and enjoyed everything around him; Katara, his pre-med and feminist girlfriend; Sokka, her hilarious and amazingly smart brother (though, sometimes his ideas are questionable); and Toph, a blind and tough girl who is on her way to ruin the top 1%. With Zuko, they were the tightest and happiest little family that automatically accepted Y/N when Zuko brought her over one night. 

She was there when he went through a pyromaniac phase, his varying hair styles, and when he tried to get his father’s love back.Ozai, their father, was the owner and CEO of a massive weapons corporation. He had burned Zuko’s face on a hot stove and kicked him out of the house for suggesting that he raise the wage of all his employees to a comfortable living wage because many of his employees struggled to provide for their families even though they worked their asses off. Thankfully, his kind Uncle Iroh instantly picked the boy up off of the streets, letting him live with him and run his successful tea shop called the Jasmine Dragon. 

Azula had been shoved away by her father mostly for sexist reasons. Ozai would never pass his company down to his daughter, no matter how smart and dedicated she was. He threw her in the private school where she lived year round. She had never told Y/N or any of the other girl’s any of this, Y/N had found out through Zuko.

Y/N’s mother was a successful lawyer and her father was a district attorney who were very very passionate about bringing justice to those of racial discrimination, domestic abuse, abuse in general, and orphan rights. Her mother was an orphan who was plain lucky to get adopted by a loving old couple who used their life savings to get her the education and life she deserved while her father was a victim of domestic abuse. 

So, after months of convincing Zuko, Y/N told her parents about the two siblings. Long story short, they got Ozai arrested for his abuse crimes, bribery history, employee mistreatment, and many more crimes. They also adopted Azula herself and gave full custody of Zuko to his uncle. 

Since then, the world has been peaceful for the group. Azula has started to recover from her trauma with the help of her friends, therapy, and love from two caring adults; and Zuko was glowing year round in the company of his uncle and friends. 

A smile forms on her face, thinking of her large family and all they’ve gone through to get here, when the door to her personal backstage room opened up. The loud voices from Aang and Sokka met her ears next. 

“I LOVE YOU SO MUCH YOU REMEMBERED THE HAM SANDWICHES WITH NO CRUST.” A kiss to her cheek and Sokka is instantly at her snack table.

“Y/N! How’d you know I was going to bring Appa and Momo?!” Aang walked his huge, white dog and lemur (don’t ask how he has it. It might be illegal, but no one can tell him no) to the pet bed corner she had put in. 

Not answering them, Y/N just smiles at her friends who barged in and turns back to her mirror where she’s trying to decide her earring combination for the day. Warm arms snake their way around her waist, a body sliding up against her back soon after. 

“What’s your ideas for tonight?” Zuko’s voice speaks quietly into her ear, causing her to hum and lean back against his chest slightly. 

“I’m not sure. We’re going for the edgy look tonight, but we all know Ty Lee is still going to wear pink. Man, our manager is going to kill her...again.” They both laugh. “Ugh, why did you let me pierce my ears, like, ten times. There’s too many combinations to choose from!”

“Me?! I did-- never mind. Just grab a handful, no one can see them from the stage anyways.” Despite his attempt to seem like he doesn’t care, one of his ring-clad fingers starts moving his favorite pieces over into a little pile by themselves. Y/N rolls her eyes and starts putting his choices in random holes in her ear, pushing him back lightly so she can bend over closer to the mirror to see better. 

“It’s the fit Zu… if the fit is a vibe, the confidence is there. If the confidence is there, nothing can stop my hot girl shit.” Her words cause him to let a huff of jealousy, flicking her arm playfully. 

Their eyes meet in the mirror, and he can clearly see the mischief in them. Calming down, he jokes back. “Yeah, well, you may do your ‘hot girl shit,’ but no one can steal you from me. We’ve been here too long.”

Toph cuts in from across the room with a loud laugh. “Please, fire brains, I could steal Y/N if I tried.” 

He whips around to face the short girl, “No you could not!!” 

“Actually, she makes a point.” Katara says, nodding along in hopes to pick fun at the boy. 

Sokka adds his two cents. “Honestly. Toph would just have to pick Y/N up and slam her against the wall or something and she’d tell her manager to send you a letter of resignation.” 

The whole group laughs, save for the angsty boy, and Y/N wraps her hand around his wrist. She pulls him towards her and reaches for a peck on the cheek. “While that may be true,” she gets a glare. “I’m too big of a simp for you… and Uncle Iroh’s dinner and game nights.”

While the rest of them laugh, Zuko’s eyes soften and he presses his lips to hers in a short, soft kiss. Uncle Iroh adores his girlfriend and everything she has done for Zuko and Azula where he had no power to do anything. The man calls her more than he does Zuko himself, and he’s pretty sure Y/N convinced him to download Words With Friends on his phone to play with her for when she can’t make it to the weekly game night dates. 

Y/N smiles up at him and pats his cheeks lovingly before moving to the wardrobe area of her room. She pulls out ‘Cards Against Humanity’ from a duffle bag on the floor before joining the rest of her friends around the lounge area, patting the seat beside her for Zuko to join them.

Everyone cheers at the sight of the black and white box with the many expansion packs that they have collected over the years. While Katara deals, everyone else makes bets on who is going to win this time. Y/N slides back into Zuko’s side as his arm comes to rest around her shoulders, playing with the ends of her H/L hair.

It’s about fifty minutes before the show is starting, and Y/N knows she has to start getting dressed and ready for the concert. Sighing, she slips from her boyfriend’s grasp (a small whine coming from him) and moves to her dressing corner. Suki, Ty Lee, Mai, Azula, and Yue had made their way to the room shortly after they started due to Sokka texting his girlfriend (Suki) to come over and join. 

The rest of the girls notice you get up and leave as well, much to everyone else’s dismay. You reassure them to keep playing a few more rounds, not wanting to ruin their fun with you putting clothes on. Y/N quickly shoves her outfit choice on which is very hot, black, and riddled with chains. To top it off, she had thick-heeled combat boots on with numerous buckles on them. Her hair, makeup, and accessories have already been done so she heads back to the group.

‘Cards Against Humanity’ has been packed up neatly and her friends are lounging around, getting last minute snacks and quality time before they go to their special seats right in front of the stage. Nothing but the best for her friends. Sokka and Katara are the first people to see her, and the former lets out his own wolf whistle in his own way to hype Y/N up. 

“DAMN, my best friend is HOT AS HELL. Zuko, you lucky ass man.” Katara hits him, but shoots her a wink as the rest of the gang look over. Y/N laughs giddily through their praises and hyped words (Toph in good spirit rather than actually seeing her outfit), as she makes her way back to her spot on the couch.

Zuko, who hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her yet, quickly grabs her bare waist and tugs her onto his lap to hold her tight. “So… this is what you meant by ‘hot girl shit.’” Letting out a loud laugh, Y/N turns her head and gives him a quick kiss. “I’m a rock star, baby, what can I say.” 

Aang cheers out of nowhere. “Yes! I’ve always wanted to be a groupie!” More laughter and jokes ring throughout the room, keeping the atmosphere as light as always, 

A knock at the door interrupts them. A man is standing there in all black with a headset on and a sleek, red (with little sparkles that only gleam in the light), electric guitar carefully caressed in his hands. While they are a girl group, their success has mainly come from being a girl group who also plays all their instruments. With Mai on the drums, Ty Lee on the keyboard, Azula and Y/N on electric guitars, Yue on the acoustic guitar, Suki on the bass; the band is truly a sight with all of them sharing the vocals and their enthusiastic (near crackhead) energy that give their crowd a good show. 

“Miss L/N? This is your five minute warning.” He tells them, not bothered by the usual group of people who are constantly in these rooms with her.

“Thanks Lee!” Y/N hops up to get her pride and joy (her child as Suki and Mai like to joke about). “I’ll be right out.”

Knowing these are the last pre-game minutes, everyone starts getting up to leave the room as well. Zuko lingers by Y/N who’s busy making sure her instrument is tuned perfectly for the numbers she’s about to perform. 

“I can feel you staring, Zu,” She smiles, still looking down at her strings. He huffs out a laugh, reaching out to push a piece of hair back to see her face.

“Good luck out there, my rock star. Don’t do too much hot girl shit.” 

“Oh, I’m doing all the hot girl shit.” A glare. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding… unless…?” She laughs at his fed up face. Reaching up, she presses one last, lingering kiss to his lips, enjoying the feeling of his fingers clutching her sides firmly and the feeling of his heart beat under her palm that’s resting on his chest. 

“Bye, love. I’ll see you after the show.” She whispers, sealing the promise with a kiss before moving back. “Alright kids! Get the hell out of my dressing room.” Y/N shouts at her friends and they all leave together, laughing away. 

The rest of them wish her luck before moving away, Sokka sprinting to find Suki one last time. Zuko holds onto her free hand, watching her laugh at ‘Simp Sokka’ with his small smile on his face. He kisses her hand, pulling her attention back to him. 

“Bye, rock star. I’ll see you after the show. Break a leg, yeah?” His cliche words make her laugh more, pulling away from him and towards the rest of her band who are chanting “BTG! BTG!”. 

“Zu… I don’t break legs. I break hearts.” And with one last mischievous look, she mouths ‘hot girl shit’ and struts away in that way that makes Zuko want to make her cancel the show completely. 

His phone buzzes a few minutes after he caught up with his friends in their special closed off section on the floor. He opens the notification and it sends him to Instagram where Y/N had tagged him in a post. The smile grows on his face with every second he takes in the post. 

Katara must’ve taken the picture. The angle, lighting, and quality could only be done by her. Y/N was on his lap, dressed to go on stage. Zuko’s mouth was almost touching her ear, definitely when he was whispering to her, and her face was wide in a smirk. They looked good, perfect even. The caption is what made him laugh, warmth and pride that she is his spreading through his chest. 

“Y/N_L/N: for him? I’m always on my hot girl shit”

[moonbeam-writing]

Hi 👉👈 can I request timeskip!Natsu x Sakusa!reader?

Like Natsu and y/n met when they were playing against each other on a match and became friends to lovers after

So when they were already dating they decided to come out to their brothers but y/n is scared to dissapoint Sakusa because she thinks he isn't proud of her? Perhaps Sakusa hears that and when they come out him and Hinata conforts them?

Fluff please :(💕

— Pride

๑ Requested by a lovely Anon!

๑ Quick Note: First off, thank you so much for requesting, both the request and character choice are so adorable and I'm so thrilled to be able to write this for you! Second, regards to the subject matter, though it's nothing scary, just a bit of a reminder! I just want to remind you all that this is a safe space for everyone (LGBTQ+, people of color, whatever your religion is, the only thing I won't accept is if you're against anyone in those categories,). I myself am a biromantic asexual and know how freaking scary it can be to come out and worrying about having to explain yourself and possibly not being accepted by those closest to you. Just remember that you are incredible, strong and perfect just the way you are and if you ever need someone, I am always here to help. ♡

๑ Characters: Natsu Hinata

๑ Warnings: Miniscule levels of angst, coming out. (There is a happy ending, though!)

๑ Word Count: 2,019

—

The first time you met Hinata Natsu was during a practice match against the Niiyama Girls’ High team. The two of you had recognized each other almost instantly and knew the odds of having a tight game, but neither of you would have had it any other way. In those early moments of the first set, there was some kind of noticeable chemistry between the two of you, though it was much more than people who were going to be rivals in a game.

You and Natsu had become the fastest of friends despite any distance or scheduling differences. Right after the game, the two of you shook hands and exchanged numbers, excitedly awaiting the next opportunity to play against each other. Three practice games, two tournaments, and endless texts and phone calls later, she asked if you'd be her girlfriend at the end of a game. Of course, Natsu was met with a tight hug and a resounding yes.

You and Natsu had kept a decent pace, both of you learning more and more about each other, growing to love each other more and more on a daily basis. For months, it was just the two of you, no one else knowing about your relationship, not that anyone could with the distance between you both. 

The upcoming date the two of you had planned, however, was going to change that a little. MSBY was going to be playing in Tokyo the upcoming weekend when the two of you had originally planned a date, so you suggested that the two of you go to your brothers’ game as your date. Not only would it be fun, but you could introduce each other to your brothers, and possibly, if you were comfortable, come out to them in the near future. 

Natsu knew that her meeting Sakusa and you meeting Hinata meant hopefully coming out to them and she was beyond ready. You, on the other hand, were nervous. You loved Kiyoomi, and even though you knew you’d be okay, disappointing him in any way was your biggest fear. Though you loved your parents, no one was more important to you than Kiyoomi. However, even though you loved your brother dearly, Natsu was who you saw yourself spending eternity with, and you planned on keeping it that way.

That weekend during the game, you and Natsu had held pinkies through the entire game, even when making your way down the stands and through the heavy crowds until you both saw Shouyo and Kiyoomi. The reason behind it wasn’t shame or embarrassment, but so you could part ways for a moment and congratulate your favorite people.

While Natsu went to hug her brother, you excitedly walked up to him, respecting his boundaries rather reluctantly, however, they hadn’t been able to go change due to the massive crowds and the press, so you supposed it was probably for the best. You had been in a gym full of strangers who could have been sick and coughing, and he was still sweaty from the game. Holding off on this hug was definitely for the benefit of both of you.

“Omi!” You called out to your brother, hearing a somewhat distant whine from Atsumu about how you can call your brother that and he can’t. In your defense, his name was slightly difficult for you when you were learning to speak.

Though it was barely noticeable to anyone else, you saw Kiyoomi’s small smile at seeing you clear as day. Your brother may have been stoic, but you could read his facial expressions like a book. What was going on in his head, however, was a different story entirely. “Hello, (Y/N).”

Taking a deep breath, you smiled back. “Way to go on the win! I’m so proud of you, you guys did so well!”

Scattered ‘thank you’s sounded around the two of you as Kiyoomi thanked you himself, only for Natsu to show up with Hinata and spike your anxiety right back up. Nothing too high, but possibly something that Kiyoomi could pick up, and that’s primarily what you were worried about

“Omi!” Hinata excitedly greeted his teammate, looking between the two of you and his little sister.

Getting a slight nudge in the foot from Kiyoomi and an encouraging look from your girlfriend, you took a deep breath and introduced yourself with a friendly smile, and a small bow purely out of respect for the boy your one and only seemed to idolize. “Hi, I’m Natsu’s friend (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you, (Y/N)! Natsu’s told me a lot about you! I feel like I’ve heard your name somewhere else too,” Hinata trailed off at the last bit in thought, though you didn’t register it. You were stuck on the fact that Natsu would talk to her brother about you. Granted, you would talk to Kiyoomi about Natsu as often as you could, hell, he’s heard about her since the day you met, but it was still shocking. Seeing the flush across her cheeks and the tips of her ears made it worth it, though.

“She’s also my sister, Hinata.” Kiyoomi sighed slightly, though he couldn’t find it in himself to be too surprised. Just like he was back in high school, Hinata Shouyo was still a total scatterbrain at times.

“Oh! Right!” You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a bit more comfortable in his presence, but still very aware that you’d have to see him tomorrow to be Natsu’s tether and be introduced as her girlfriend, rather than her best friend.

Following your girlfriend’s lead, you introduce the two and they make their introductions. Lucky for you, Kiyoomi didn’t say anything too embarrassing like Hinata had done.

After a few minutes, you and Natsu had left the boys to go do what they needed to and decided to spend the afternoon together before you drug her back to your place. The two of you got coffee, went to various stores, snuck sweet kisses and pictures, and made a small game plan for tomorrow.

“Are you scared?” Natsu asked as the two of you were cuddled up in your room together. “A little. Hopefully, he noticed how close we are and will beat me to it, ha ha. What about you?”

“Yeah, but I know it’ll be okay. It’ll be like ripping off a band aid.” Natsu’s bright yet sleepy smile coaxed a smile out of you as well. It gave you all of the courage you needed as you pulled her into you, waiting for the next day to appear.

Breakfast the next morning passed smoothly, everyone on the MSBY team was given a day off to rest, so you promised that you’d see Kiyoomi whenever the two of you returned from hanging out and seeing Hinata. Kiyoomi was confused as to why you needed to go with her but brushed it off, if it were important, you’d tell him. You’d always been on the independent side, much like the man himself, so he supposed he wasn’t too shocked.

The two of you met Hinata at the coffee shop that you and Natsu normally go to for dates when she’s in town. You figured that maybe a familiar and comforting place might help calm her nerves and so far, it seemed to be working.

“So, uh, Sho, I kind of have something to tell you.” Natsu slowly trailed off, reciprocating the firm and comforting squeeze you gave her hand underneath the table as she brought your intertwined hands to rest on top of the table as Hinata looked curious at what his little sister had to say.

“Yeah?”

“Ha, so, (Y/N) isn’t actually my friend. I mean, she is! It’s just a bit more complicated.” You both had to hold in a slight laugh at the small head tilt. It was as though the dots weren’t connecting, and part of you wasn’t entirely sure that they were. “As in, (Y/N)’s my girlfriend and I love her.”

With almost animatedly wide eyes and the quickly following dopey grin, his happiness was obvious. “That’s awesome! I’m glad you’re both happy together! How long has it been again?” You and Natsu happily answered all of Shouyo’s questions and small date and game stories that the two of you have made over time

.Unfortunately, a question came that you weren’t quite expecting. “(Y/N), have you told Omi yet?” You could feel your smile drop a little. “Uh, no. We were going to after we told you. Speaking of, babe, we should probably leave in an hour or so.” Natsu nodded in acknowledgment.

“You’ll be fine, you know,” Hinata reassures you. “He cares about you a lot, it’s almost like there’s a weird change after he talks with you. I mean, I only know that from the occasional time you call pretty much right before practice, but sometimes Atsumu asks about you too.” He chuckles slightly before continuing. “I’m pretty sure you could kill someone and he’d still love you, kid. You’ll be fine.” You quietly thanked the human ball of sunshine and the three of you continued to talk until you had to part ways once again.

And now, after hours of agonizing anticipation, the time for you to come out to your brother was here. Kiyoomi was home, your parents were out (not that that really mattered), and you had your ultimate emotional support at your side, hand tangled with yours, her thumb gently running over your knuckles and tracing shapes into the back of your hand.

Opening your front door, the two of you made your way inside and took off your shoes as you called out for your older brother as you and Natsu made yourselves comfortable on the couch, fingers once again laced together. You needed her now more than anything and you couldn’t explain just how happy it made you to have her here for this.

Kiyoomi made his way into the living room, raising an eyebrow at the shockingly serious, yet slightly nervous atmosphere. The amount of tension made him worry that something bad had happened to you, especially when he noticed just how tightly you were gripping Natsu’s hand.

“Are you two okay?”

The two of you wordlessly nodded at him, which only made his worry rise.

“Okay? In that case, why’d you call me out here?”

For what felt like the millionth time in the last 48 hours, you braced yourself and sucked in a deep breath. Just like Natsu said the night before; it’s just like ripping off a band-aid.

“I have something to tell you, and I’m scared, and it involves Natsu, and even though it’s ridiculous, I’m scared that once you hear what I have to say I’ll lose my brother, and I really don’t want that, because you’re my favorite person in the world.” The words spewed from your lips like word vomit and Kiyoomi was determined to not let you do that again.

With very little hesitation, Kiyoomi opened his arms and you almost immediately ran into them. You couldn’t help it. “What do you need to tell me?”

Tears pricked at your eyes, the fear of rejection nearly shutting your thoughts down. “Natsu’s my girlfriend. I love her a lot, and I’m not sorry if you hate me for it, but I also really hope that if that’s the case you understand that I can’t change that and I don’t want to change it.”

Deafening silence filled the living room, but Kiyoomi hugged you tighter, pulling away slightly to begrudgingly wipe tears away from your cheeks with his sleeve. “I could never hate you, (Y/N), and I’m sorry that I somehow made you think that that was the case. I love you so much, no matter what, and I’m so proud of you.” You were pulled against him once again as you tried to calm yourself down. “And Natsu.”

“Yeah?” Even though everything had gone well, she was still nervous.

“Thank you for looking after my sister for me when I can’t. Welcome to the family, kid.”

[percontaion-points]

Raven King chapter 6

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions.

Chapter 6

Nicky was bringing Jim from his improv class...

I thought Nicky had a long-term boyfriend?

Well, if he did, he probably doesn't anymore. Not with all of Nicky's jokes about cheating and him taking some rando to the big dinner.

Blackwell was slow to appear in the distance, but it didn't take long to spot the two stadiums. The football and Exy stadium were on opposite sides of the campus like massive bookends.

I'm still having a really difficult time swallowing that society completely shifted because of a sport invented some 30 years earlier.

Like I'm willing to overlook a lot for the sake of a story. But for society to just go completely and utterly apeshit over a 30 year old sport makes zero sense. AND I READ THE STORY WHERE THE LADY HAD SEX WITH THE LITERAL BULL.

Wymack pulled a bottle of vodka out of the bag and put it down beside Kevin. "You have ten seconds to inhale as much of this as you can. I'm timing you. Go."

It was alarming how much a man could drink when he needed an emotional crutch.

WOW THAT'S SUPER FUCKING HEALTHY.

Like I get that his foster-father and brother abused the shit out of him. But therapy is much better than alcoholism.

Madison was using the home locker room to change right now, so the Foxes had to go all the way around to the away side.

I really love how there's this big fancy banquet dinner where they invite all of the college exy teams, and they literally have to change in the locker room.

My high school did this band banquet, too. But we didn't have to fucking eat dinner out on the football field with our parents... We had the school cafeteria for the evening.

Out of touch author can't even think of a world where these idiots would want to rent a banquet hall. Oh no... it's got to be at the fucking stadium, for some unholy reason.

Judging by Neil's quick headcount, the Ravens hadn't brought dates. They hadn't brought any color along, either. All twenty-two of them were dressed head-to-toe in black. The twenty men wore the same shirts and slacks, and the two women wore identical dresses. They even sat the exact same way, all with their right elbows on the table, all of them with their chins in their hands. Another team might look foolish going so far, but somehow the Ravens looked imposing.

I joke about the fox characters outside of Neil, Kevin, and Andrew being cardboard cut-outs... but this ain't got nothing on those cardboard cutouts.

"I know who you are," Riko said. "Who here doesn't? You're the woman who captains a Class I team. You've done admittedly well despite your disadvantages."

CASUAL SEXISM.

The man to Riko's right stood up as soon as the Foxes were settled and walked behind the Ravens until he was across from Neil. Two fingers to the woman's shoulder got her out of her chair and she moved to the newly-emptied seat. The stranger sat across from Neil. As he did the Ravens fell out of their frozen poses, but they did so only to lean back as one in their chairs.

Did they practice this ahead of time?

The black three tattooed on his left cheekbone meant he could be no one but Jean Moreau.

Imagine getting a tattoo of a college sports number. Of which you would only get to play for a few years before being forced out.

It took him only a few seconds to realize the Ravens were coming. The entire team was crossing the court toward Kevin, walking in V formation like a flock of birds going south.

I can't with her descriptions of the Ravens. Like one team's colors are orange and white, and the other is black and red. ONE OF THEM IS GUD AND THE OTHER IS EBUL. THE RAVENS ARE EBUL, AND THEY'RE ALL HENCHMEN ROBOTS.

"We're sure it is," the Raven striker said, "seeing how you're dating a prostitute."

"Stripper," Dan corrected...

[…]

Neil tried not to stare at her. He would have dismissed the Raven's insult as an outright lie if not for Dan's easy response. Too late he remembered her telling him she'd worked an overnight job during high school to make ends meet.

THE AUTHOR DOES REALIZE THAT YOU HAVE TO BE 18 TO WORK JOBS LIKE THAT... RIGHT?! Like please tell me that the author didn't write about a 15 year old getting a job as a stripper.

This series is bad enough without needing to drag child strippers into the mix.

The others fell asleep within a few miles, but Neil spent the entire ride thinking about Riko and his father.

Chapter 6 summary: So it's time for the banquet. They do a random lottery draw where they decide which school will host the banquet this year. The school picked is only about four hours away. The banquet itself lasts for two days, in order to justify some of the travel time for those further away. However, the foxes are of the opinion “fuck that; we're not staying the entire two days”.

As they get closer to the school, Kevin starts to have a panic attack. As the others leave the bus, David gives Kevin some alcohol, and tells him to chug it. Which... yeah, that sounds fucking healthy. They have to change out in the locker room, which is fucking weird if you ask me. And then they go into the stadium, which has been turned into a banquet hall. The sight makes Neil angry, and mood. Rent a fucking banquet hall for this, assholes.

They're upset to see that the foxes are randomly supposed to be sitting across from the ravens. And the ravens are all dressed like evil henchmen, and are even randomly acting in unison. Talk about zero personality. David warned the others not to pick a fight, but obviously wasn't counting on Riko bringing his planet-sized ego with him. A rando Raven player named Jean-- who is the embodiment of every French stereotype you can think of-- starts to antagonize Neil, and calls him by a bunch of Neil's former names. He then moves on and starts insulting everybody else.

Their little pissing match goes on for a long while. But hey, it's not like anything else is going on, so this might as well happen, I guess. Finally, Riko antagonizes Neil into speaking, and Neil calls Riko out on his shit, saying that he's a whiny, entitled little brat who doesn't have anything going for him. Then, Jean and Riko start to act like they “own” Neil, which has fucking creepy slavery undertones to what they're saying.

David finally shows up to say that they're trying to move the foxes to another table. As they get up to leave, Jean can't help but name-drop Neil's father. The others rally around Kevin and Neil once they're away. Kevin is sent back to the bus to drink some more liquor, and Neil thinks about following. Not only that, but just fucking leaving. But he doesn't, because then this series would be put out of its misery.

After dinner, then they put all of the tables away and everybody starts socializing and networking. The ravens come over, act like they've never met the foxes before, but then continue to insult them. I'm really fucking over this. Riko's uncle and the raven coach comes over. The two teams awkwardly stare at one another, and the only thing this scene needs is some dramatic finger snapping. Tetsuji says that he ran fingerprint test off of a glass Neil drank out of back during that dumb morning talk show, and knows who he is. He yells at Neil about crimes that Neil's dad committed against The Family©, as if Neil himself personally did all of that. However, Neil stands his ground and refuses to be bullied by these assholes.

Matt finally drags Neil away, and threatens to tell the exy board about Riko's shit behavior and have him benched for the rest of the season. They all go back to the bus finally, and start to head home.

[vintagedolan]

mint chocolate

you’ve been in love with ethan since the early days of your childhood friendship, but what happens when it’s too late to tell him?

word count: 5k

warnings/tags: fluffy fluff lets go ladies

also shoutout to @gloriousgrant​ for this request, ily bby!!

feel free to send in requests! and check out my masterlist if you wanna :)

An elephant’s memory. That’s what your mom had always said - you had an elephant’s memory. Never forgot a detail, a friend, a face. Which is why you could still remember the first halloween party you ever got invited to, all the way back in preschool, as clearly as you could remember what you had for breakfast yesterday.

You didn’t remember the party though, but that was because you didn’t go. It had been a simple decision once you’d found out from eavesdropping on the mom gossip that only 33 of the 35 kids from your class had gotten the cute personalized invitations in the mail. 

Your four year old self said it best - “If etee and gray aren’t going, I’s not going.”

You didn’t realize until you were older that you words had made Lisa cry, overwhelmed and grateful that her boys had a friend at school when everyone seemed to be against them. So, she’d decided to make it the best halloween that she possibly could for her kids, and for you. 

And thus, over way too much sugary candy, smores, trick or treating and the watchful eyes of your mom and Lisa, the trio was born on Halloween night, 2004.

The three of you held strong through elementary school - sat next to each other until the teacher separated you for talking too much, shared your lunches every day. Lisa would even send an extra piece of candy on Friday’s for you in Ethan’s lunch - little pieces of mint chocolate that they kept at the salon for clients. Recess was always your favorite time, because the boys were wild, always finding something more fun than the playground equipment, like trees to climb or hills to roll down. You were fine with that - there were too many kids on the playground anyways. And when little scrawny David tried to kiss you at the top of the slide Ethan shoved him down, getting himself time out for the next three days.

You sat with him in the mulch every day until he was allowed to play again. 

Middle school was where the bumps in the road came along. Grayson went, in his mother’s words, ‘girl crazy’, and in his brother’s words, he ‘became a player’. Turns out, middle school girls don’t trust their boyfriends to have girl best friends, and Grayson fell into the trap, desperate to people please and get a date to the dance. Every time he broke up with them he’d come back, apologize, want to be your friend again, and you let him, because you loved him, even if he was a dick sometimes. 

Ethan was another story. Sure, he had a few 6th grade girlfriends who constituted an after school hug as a date, but the first negative thing they said about you had him bounding down the hallway to your locker to reassure you that he was, once again, a ‘single pringle’.

With Grayson off having Lisa drive him and the girl of the month to the fro-yo shop twice a week, it left space for you and Ethan to get even closer than you already were. You took stupid pictures on his families computer, edited them to high heaven with the strongest contrast and put stupidly fonted “<3″ and “bffz foreva” all around your faces, set them as your blackberry backgrounds. You watched movie reruns and renamed the characters and talked about how Ethan wanted to be an actor someday. You played hide and seek in the Dolan’s backyard, always giving away your hiding spot when one of you got too spooked and ran to the other one. You were allowed to spend the night if you stayed in the living room, which meant you took the couch, Ethan took the floor, and usually Grayson ended up curled up in the recliner, wanting to be a part of the fun once he got home and realized he was missing out. 

Things got worse in 8th grade. The bullying was incessant with the boys growing popularity on vine, and since the three of you were always seen as a unit of sorts, you got pulled into it. There were so many jeers in the hallways that you couldn’t keep track of them. The trio reunited, Grayson clinging to you as one of the few friends he could trust. It became texts of ‘lets eat lunch by the band room, no one will bother us over there’ and ‘hey, I heard Jillian earlier, u ok?” snuck under science room tables. You got suspended for punching a guy who wouldn’t shut his mouth about Ethan in September - your parents were pissed but you didn’t care - no one was going to fuck with your friends. 

Your reprieves were after school when you could hang out like you always had... well, after they got done with football or lacrosse or wrestling practice. They’d come home sweaty, smelling like gym mats, texting you to come over. If your mom couldn’t take you over Lisa would come pick you up - even Cameron got you a few times, acting like it was a chore but secretly glad that her brothers had someone, anyone, to rely on. You went to every single one of their games and matches, wrote 47 and 8 on your cheeks in face paint and yelled as loud as you could, ate celebratory ice cream with them when they won. 

Things got, somehow, even worse freshman year of high school. The bullying was even more intense, with threats posed against both of them, and against you. Ethan got secretive for the first time in his entire friendship with you. One minute he was even more clingy than usual, and the next day he was quiet and distant. It took you calling him out on it one night for him to finally fess up.

And it was those four painful words that made you realize that you were in love with Ethan Dolan.

“We’re moving to LA.”

You cried. Ethan cried. Grayson cried. Lisa cried. 

But you dried your tears, put on a brave face, told him how proud you were of him, of both of them. They were chasing their dreams, making it happen for themselves in a way that you could only admire. What type of friend would you be if you tried to hold them back?

You made the most of the last month that they were still in New Jersey, hanging out every minute that you could, helping them look at apartments in LA online, watching them film videos for their channel, supporting them every step of the way. 

You lost track of how many times you had to reassure Ethan that you’d be fine in high school without him, even if it wasn’t true. He’d told you over and over to just pretend like you weren’t friends with them anymore - anything to get the bullying to stop. You told him no way in hell. 

You stayed the night at the Dolan’s house in October, the night before they got on the plane to move out. It was fun, an early halloween celebration of sorts, mixed with a going away party that had you laughing as much as it had you crying. 

The real kicker came around midnight, after Grayson had fallen asleep in the chair that he was much too big for now, and you and Ethan were left in the silence. 

“I’m gonna miss you. So much. I don’t know what life looks like without you,” you admitted with teary eyes, toying with his fingers.

“I’m gonna miss you more. But I’ll always be here to visit, and it’ll be just like old times.”

You doubted that, but you weren’t going to say it. The thought of not seeing him everyday, having him so far away, surrounded by new people, new girls - it put a lump in your throat that you couldn’t quite get the words “I’m in love with you” around. You’d realized that it was more than just friendship for you as soon as he told you he was leaving - but you couldn’t bring yourself to put that on him when he already felt guilty enough for leaving you behind.

So you just nodded at his promises of flying you out to LA when they got enough money, showing you all around California, tried to believe him when he said you were always going to be his number one, and fell asleep against his chest. 

You rode with them to the airport, held their hands the whole way in the backseat and kept your head held high as you hugged them and sent them through security.

You sobbed the whole way home. Even after you managed to pull yourself together a little bit, when you got that made it, miss you already text that signaled they had landed that night, a whole new wave of tears made their appearance. 

You knew it would be hard, but you didn’t realize just how lonely you were going to be without both of them, but especially Ethan at your side. 

But there was a silver lining.

It was in those next few months that you realized that Ethan always kept his promises. He facetimed you whenever he could, showed you around their apartment, asked you to explain how to make mac and cheese cause he was ‘gonna starve’. He sent you pictures of everywhere cool he visited in LA, even sent you postcards sometimes just for fun. And when he came to visit a month later he stopped at your house first, knocking incessantly until you opened the door and threw your arms around him. Once the tears had stopped - the ones you let flow and the ones he blinked back, he reached into his bag and pulled something out.

“Look what I found in the airport in LA. Your favorite.” He placed the mint chocolate bar in your hands with a grin, proud of himself for putting such a big smile on your face. 

And so, the tradition began. 

Every time he came back to New Jersey he was on your doorstep, and every time he brought you one of those little chocolate bars. It didn’t matter that he was home to see his family, because any time you brought it up he’d wave you off, reassure you that ‘you are family bub’, making you fall more and more in love with him every time. 

When he had the money, he flew you out to California, showed you all his favorite places. He took you to the beach, on hikes, made sure you got the full cali experience with him at your side.

There were times over the years where he visited less, or visited more. But It didn’t matter if it’d been a week or 3 months since you’d seen him - the butterflies were all the same when you saw him again. 

You were sure to catch up each time you reunited, going down the list of everything you might of missed, even if you still talked every day. It went like so:

One: how’s the channel going? To which he would ask “how’s school?”

Two: any new friends? He’d ask the same.

And then came question number three, your least favorite:

Got a girlfriend?

You’d wait with bated breath every time, sighing out in secret relief when he’d say “nah, don’t have time” or “no, LA girls are weird”. And then you’d go on with whatever you had planned that day, whether it was just hanging around your old Jersey stomping grounds or sit in your room, and eventually your apartment when you moved out, heart a bit lighter.

Maybe that’s why it hurt so bad on his last visit when he’d hesitated on that question, looked down at his hands.

The most painful four words you’d been told changed that afternoon, when he finally answered.

“Yeah, I do actually.” 

You’d always known it was going to happen eventually - you’d been preparing for it in the back of your mind for a while now. You saw the comments on every post he made, the replies to his tweets, thousands and thousands of adoring girls, and it only grew every single day. Maybe it had been dumb to think that he’d ever realize just how in love with him you were, dumb to think that maybe, maybe, he saw you that way too. 

So, you put on your brave face, forced that smile to spread over your face and ran through the motions.

“Really?! What, since when?!” had never sounded faker than when they came out of your mouth, laced with false enthusiasm. 

And you listened to him tell you all about her, Allison, a girl he’d met at an LA party that he didn’t want to go to. You nodded at the right times, smiled and asked questions you didn’t care to know the answers to. 

You secretly wished hearts made a noise when they broke - maybe it would have stopped the conversation, saved you from having to see his face light up when he said her name, the blush that spread across his cheeks when he told you about his first date with her. 

Three months passed - and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t run at least part of that conversation through your head every day since you had it. It was nice that Ethan wasn’t the type to put his relationship out to the public - a front row seat would only make it worse, you were sure. 

You decided it was time to try, to really try to find someone that wasn’t Ethan. Sure, you’d talked to people in the past, but you’d never gone all in when trying to find someone to be with, because, well, there was really only one on your mind anyways. 

Which was why it was weird to answer one of Ethan’s usual what’re you up to this week texts with not much, work, hanging out with my parents, got a date tomorrow night. You all still working on the candle launch stuff?

At his kitchen counter in LA, Ethan frowned as he read it. Date.

“What?” Grayson asked, reading his twin’s face as he washed the pans from dinner.

“Y/N’s going on a date.” 

“Huh. Well, good for her,” he shrugged, looking down at the water running over his hands, eyes flickering up to Ethan’s face, trying to figure out if he should say what he’s thinking. Fuck it, if he gets pissed he gets pissed. “How do you feel about that?”

That got Ethan’s attention off his phone screen.

“How do I feel about that? What’s that supposed to mean?” The defensiveness in his tone had Gray tensing up a bit.

“It’s just a question bro.” 

“I have a girlfriend Grayson.” 

Grayson stopped scrubbing, annoyed at his brother’s tone. He’d tried to be supportive, loving - but he was getting tired of Ethan complaining about his relationship woes and not doing anything about it. 

“Yeah, who you said you wanted to break up with twice last week, for the record. And you’re the one that brought up Y/N, not me,” he pointed out, knowing that if he was already gonna piss his brother off, he might as well say everything he wanted to say. 

“You never liked Allison,” Ethan snapped.

“Fuckin facts, cause she’s manipulative and fake.”

“No she isn’t.” He threw Grayson a glare, pressing his hands together until his knuckles popped.

“If you actually believed that you would have hit back with an actual argument just now. I mean jesus Ethan, she told you you couldn’t go back to see Y/N for god’s sake. That used to be your fuckin’ dealbreaker back in the day, why would you put up with that shit now?” 

“I didn’t put up with it, I told her it wasn’t negotiable and I went to Jersey anyways!” He was yelling now, hands gripping the edge of the counter.

“Yeah, and then she gave you the silent treatment for a week when you got back like a fuckin’ six year old. That’s some middle school shit and you know it E. You don’t have to put up with that, you can find somebody who treats you better.” 

“Will you fucking stop Grayson?” He threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “I’ve got enough shit going on right now, I don’t need you in my head too.” 

“Fine. But friends don’t get jealous when their friends go on dates, especially not when that friend is across the fucking country. Just so you know.” He watched his brother put his face in his hands and felt that familiar pang in heart that made him add a “I’ll be in my room if you wanna talk about it” before he walked out.

Grayson had mastered the art of keeping tabs on Ethan without him knowing. So even from his room he heard him leave, and based on how long he sat in the driveway with the car running, he knew exactly where he was going.

So, he wasn’t fully surprised when Ethan came into his room three hours later without knocking and laid down on his bed next to him without a word, staring up at the ceiling.

“So...”

“So.” Ethan repeated. 

“Did you uh...”

“Break up with her?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I did.” 

“Cool. How’d she take it.”

“About exactly how you'd expect.”

“Ugly sobbing?”

“So much ugly sobbing.” 

“Sounds on brand.”

The conversation faded into silence, only the hum of the fan spinning in the corner filling the room. Grayson let it go on for a few minutes before he spoke up again.

“So.”

“So.”

“You goin’ back to Jersey?”

Ethan perked up at that one, sitting up slightly and turning so he could look at his brother. He quirked an eyebrow, waiting for the explanation. 

“C’mon bro. You can’t act like Y/N doesn’t have anything to do with this. I mean, you should have dropped Allison a while ago, but it’s not a coincidence that the idea of Y/N going on a date was what made you do it now. You should just tell her how you feel. Put it all on the table.”

He pondered that for a minute, staring up at the white ceiling.

“I hate sharing a brain with you, you fuck,” were the words he eventually chose, rolling over and pulling out his phone. Grayson smirked when he saw what he searched - American Airlines.

“Not my fault we split into two goops.”

Ethan typed in the flight plan he’d done more than any other - LAX -> EWR. 4 hours and 56 minute, like usual. There was one leaving in just over an hour and a half, and the knot that formed in his stomach was all too familiar. It came around every time he waited on the doorstep of her apartment in New Jersey, waited for her to show up at the door with that bright smile that had never changed, never wavered. He’d do anything to have her smiling like that all the time.

“Maybe I shouldn’t do this.” 

Grayson’s brows furrowed, knitting together above his eyes. “What?”

“What if she gets mad that I ruined her date. I don’t wanna fuck that up for her. She could be happy with the guy.” The words tasted like metal on his tongue. 

“Oh c’mon Ethan. She’s only dating somebody because you’re dating somebody. Well, were, I guess.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know how she feels about me.”

“You’re forgetting that I’ve been her friend for just as long as you have. You just gotta trust me on this bro. It’s not a coincidence that she starts going on dates when you tell her you’ve got a girl.”

“So many coincidences,” Ethan huffed.

“So many not coincidences,” Grayson corrected, raising his eyebrows and waiting for him to give in. 

“Am I just supposed to show up at her house? I’m not gonna get to Jersey until-” he did the time change math that was second nature by now “- shit, like 2am? That’s kinda sus.”

“Right, because showing up at her house isn’t the first thing you do every time we go home anyways.” Grayson rolled his eyes. “What time’s the flight?” 

“In like an hour and a half.”

“We can make it, just pack a bag real quick, I’ll start the car up.”

“Okay. Okay.” Ethan nodded, standing up and waiting for a minute before he fully decided that holy shit, he was finally gonna do this, and then he was running down the hall towards his room.

“And don’t wear shorts! Put on some fuckin’ pants and look decent at least!” Grayson called after him with a grin.

“I can dress myself bro, fuck off!” 

It turns out, Ludacris mode on a tesla comes in handy when you’re trying not to miss a flight. They sped all the way to LAX, barely time for a hug and a “text me when you get there” before Ethan was running through TSA precheck and barely making the last boarding call of Flight 8333. He took the numbers as a sign that he was doing the right thing, that everything was going to work out.

The nerves really hit when he got settled in his seat on the plane, tattooed thigh bouncing on the floor, covered by his Louis pants. His shoes didn’t match the outfit very well, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He hadn’t had much time to do anything but run through the terminals - he hoped he didn’t stink, didn’t forget anything.

Fuck. The chocolate. 

He twitched in his seat, ready to run back out and head to that little convenience store where the manager knew his name, knew he was only there to get a diet root beer for the flight and a mint chocolate bar. But it was no use - the place was probably closed, and it wasn’t like he could get off the plane anyways.

So he put his headphones in, turned on his playlist and closed his eyes as they started to taxi down the runway, praying that maybe he could sleep. Behind his eyelids, memories of you played like a mixture between a slideshow and a movie - little snippets and still images of times he had committed to memory, swore he would never forget.  

You, with your toes in the California sand for the first time, so excited to see the beach and the ocean waves crashing, face lighting up as you ran towards the water. Your fourth grade halloween costume - the first year the three of you had coordinated, all of you going as little skeletons. Sitting in the middle school hallway with lunch balanced carefully on your legs, swapping sandwiches and laughs. You hugging him goodbye when he left for LA, how he never wanted to let go, wished he could take you with him more than anything else. Every visit, every time he counted down the days before he could make it back to see you.

He couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t in love with you, wasn’t trying to convince himself that it would be wrong to ask you to try long distance, wrong to ‘hold you back’ or ask you to support someone, to love someone, so far away. It almost felt childish now, the thought that the two of you were going to end up with anybody else. His nerves prickled at the daunting task that he knew was awaiting him when the plane wheels touched down again, so he focused on your face instead, trying to breathe.

It was both the longest and quickest flight of his life somehow. 

He got a rental car - it was no smooth cat, but it would do - text Grayson that he was safe, and headed out in the familiar direction of your apartment before he could stop himself. He hadn’t made it four minutes down the interstate when the rain started falling, slow at first until it grew into a downpour that was roaring against the car. 

His wipers worked double time, keeping his windshield just clear enough for him to find his way to your parking lot. 

Heart in his throat, he threw his door open, stepping out into the rain before he could talk himself into turning around, jogging to your door and knocking.

In your bed, your eyes shot open. You waited for another knock, heart beating fast when you heard it, and then the constant rhythm of them afterwards. You rolled over, checked your phone.

2:16am.

“Who in the fuck,” you grumbled, sitting up and rubbing at your eyes as you headed out the door of your room in your pajamas, confused and concerned. If it was your drunk neighbor again, you were going to kill him. 

Popping up on your tiptoes, you peeked through the peep hole, breath catching in your throat. 

There was no way.

You blinked hard, looked again.

You knew that face, and you threw the door open, relief and panic playing tug of war on your heartbeat.

“Ethan? What- what the hell are you doing here? Are you okay? Is something wrong?” It wasn’t unlike him to show up and surprise you, but it had never been in the middle of the night. Still, he looked perfect as always, even with his drenched hair plastered to his head and soggy clothes. 

“I’m okay.” 

“Okay... well come inside, come outta the rain,” you reached out to grab his shirt, pull him inside, but he caught your hand, holding on tightly.

“I gotta say something first, and then you can decide if you wanna let me in.” He was too formal, more serious than you were used to and it had your stomach in knots. 

“You’re scaring me a little E.” 

“Don’t be scared. It’s just me.” His eyes shone, even in the dark, with a familiarity that settled you a bit and you nodded, waiting for him to say whatever it was. 

“I don’t know why I never thought it was okay for us to love each other. No, that’s not right, that’s not what I meant to say. I... hang on.” 

He took a deep breath, rainwater spraying a bit off his lips when he pushed it out and tried again.

“A long time ago, when we were kids, I convinced myself that we couldn’t love each other, because I couldn’t handle losing you. You’ve been my rock, my only constant outside my family for my entire life, and I don’t think I would have made it without you. So I just decided that we couldn’t love each other like that. And that was selfish. Because I’ve always been in love with you I think. Back then I don’t think I realized what it was. But now, when I look back, I think that’s what it was.”

You’ve always been the person I wanna see every day, especially when I can’t. The first person I think of when I wake up, the one I’m thinking about when I go to sleep. You’re my favorite human on the whole planet, and if soulmates are real I think that’s us. I don’t know why I ever tried to be with anybody else when you were here the whole time.”

And I know it’s not fair for me to put all this on you right now, especially when you tried to be supportive of me with other girls. But that text, you telling me you were going on a date. It slapped me in the face, made me realize just what I was about to give up, what was about to slip through my fingers if I didn’t get my shit together and just tell you everything. So... here I am. I’m here, and I love you... I’m in love with you. And I just needed you to know that. I’m in love with you Y/N. Always have been. And I kinda think that you could be in love with me too. Or at least, I hope maybe you are.” 

He had been looking at you the whole time, but you saw the nerves take over as he realized everything he had just said out loud, as he watched you, waited for your reaction. 

“I...” Your brain was spinning, unable to understand how everything you’d been waiting your whole life to hear had just come out of his mouth, all at once. 

It wasn’t a conscious decision - more of an instinct. Two steps forward out into the rain and then you were throwing your arms around his neck, up on your tip toes to finally, finally, press your lips to his like you’d dreamed about doing so many times. 

Your fantasies hadn’t done it justice. He was so warm, so familiar, so Ethan. His hands went to your waist, fingers curling and pulling you against him as he leaned in so hard that you leaned back with him, smiling as your hands came around to hold his face, hold him to you, unwilling for the moment to ever end. 

You didn’t even notice the rain.

“Am I dreaming?” You hadn’t meant to say it out loud but it slipped past your lips anyways, making Ethan’s chest swell and his smile get even brighter as he pulled back enough to look at you.

“No baby. This is real. This is us, right here, right now.” 

"No fuckin’ way,” you breathed, running your thumbs over his cheeks before he kissed you again, walking you backwards into the house and out of the downpour and over to the couch. 

“I love you. So much. Sorry I forgot your chocolate by the way,” he grinned after he sat down and pulled you onto his lap, gazing up at you like you hung the moon and stars.

“You’re so much better than mint chocolate. I love you too.” You kissed him again just because you could, relishing in the feeling of him there with you, not a worry or a care in the world.