#this is the fucking musician au crack i missed this

[the-gayest-sky-kid]

WHAT FUCKING DRUGS ARE THEY PUTTING IN ALL THESE SKK MUSICIAN AUS WTF

[floralcrematorium]

fuck it, band AU time

with my mounting zine deadlines and drawings i owe friends for their b-days, idk if i'll ever get to draw the accompanying material i wanted to, so it is time to yap everyone's ear off. apologies if this is a mess! it's been a hot minute since i've properly spewed my nonsense out loud

i think i wanna talk abt Nat first... I love using Natalya in narrative works -- she's so so interesting to me and the character i've fleshed out the most

in Band AU, Natalya is a solo pop musician whose earlier music takes heavy inspiration from ethereal wave and dark cabaret. artists who frequent the playlist i've made for her are birdeatsbaby, revue noir, and then a bit of the dresden dolls and mirabilis. here's a hyperlink to her WIP playlist!

as for subject matter, her music probably deals a lot with existentialism and self identity

at the start of her career, Nat is very experimental in her sound, presentation, and image. i like to think she sees her music videos and stage performances as a version of semi-abstract performance art. she's very into symbolism

the pop part of her sound comes a bit later, after she starts dating Alfred Jones, the front man of Multifacet, an alternative(?) rock band (gonna be real, i have NOT nailed down what their sound is yet). her relationship with Alfred is mutually unhealthy - they are somewhat codependent and both feel a need to perform due to media pressure. he's using her for her preexisting fame, she uses him to feel the lonely void she feels

Nat cracks under the pressure. She was a very popular artist before dating Alfred, but she had control. When they start dating, her own achievements begin to be overshadowed. Her career becomes inescapably intertwined with Alfred's. She hits an absolute breaking point

as of right now, the sound of nat's music when she's with alfred is a bit like rina sawayama's. i find her voice gorgeous and i like the sound of urgency in the songs I have added to Nat's playlist -- it's a stark difference from her earlier slower music. I think Frankenstein embodies Nat at this point in her career the best

i know billie eilish is WAY too mainstream for Nat's taste, but I can't help but think of The Diner from billie's latest album for the AmeBel breakup...

also I much prefer platonic AmeBel - I think when in a romantic relationship, these two enable the worse parts of one another. however as just friends, they work quite well! anyway the best way I can sum up how I see AmeBel is:

someone else: what do you even see in him? Nat: he makes me laugh. he's stupid. i like that in a man.

I think the constant theme for Nat is a constant searching for a sense of identity because she continually destroys the identity she's built. I think Nat is a little insecure and to truly flourish, she needs to find some confidence. she also needs a good support system, which comes in the form of Tereza (miss Czechia), but I'll talk about them at a different time (wink wink, nudge nudge)

If I have to give you examples of Nat's different "Eras":

Debut: The Silent, The Tragic Tantrum She's having fun. Nat's a bit cryptic, she's eclectic, and enjoys putting on a show on stage. Start of the AU: Girl Anachronism, The Dresden Dolls I associate Girl Anachronism a lot with Nat in general, band AU aside Dating Alfred: Frankenstein, Rina Sawayama The lyrics of this one really hit for Nat. "All I want is to feel beautiful inside and out/You're the one who can save me from myself." This is when AmeBela are mutually codependent Breakup: Nothing Lasts, Glycerine I don't have anything to add other than this is an old personal favorite of mine. That's it. Breakup, but with plot relevance: The Diner, Billie Eilish I really want to use the lines "I'll go back to the diner/I'll write another letter/I hope you'll read it this time/You better" Nat and Al are having a very public breakup, that's all I have to say Healing: Seventeen, birdeatsbaby Nat's like. 27 at the start of this AU, but I think the themes are still relevant. I also LOVE the dramatic and grandiose intro to the song -- I feel like it's a return to form for her... Healing Nat Part Two: I Always Hang Myself With The Same Rope, birdeatsbaby

Nat will get a happy ending. I do need to figure out in more detail in what ways she damages Alfred, but I think with the general theme of the whole AU being a cautionary tale about fame and the effects it has on an individual, I've focused more on the "good ending" route with Nat's story. She has a moment of self realization and puts in the time to work on herself.

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol 28

Hello my darlings,

Welcome to TSD week 28! I read some stuff this week that is definitely going in my all time faves list, seriously. Y'all are amazing. I've got 14 fics for you this week!! (Joel Miller, Frankie/Santi, Ezra, Din Djarin, Dieter Bravo, Max Phillips, Frankie Morales, Dieter/Javi P, Marcus Pike, Javier Peña). Summaries and tags are author provided unless they didn't have them (then I did it myself).

As always you can find all my fic recs here and my masterlist here

Recs under the Baby Cow Eyes

Cosmic Oddities - Din/Joel series by fromthewhales (Ao3)

Summary: Turning a clan of two into a clan of four and asking the very important, albeit unhinged question: What if space dad and apocalypse dad were Weird About Each Other? (ed. note: this summary does not do this beautiful fic justice. READ IT). Tags: parental bonding, parallels, angst, everyone has issues, everyone needs a hug, touch starved din djarin, injuries, strangers to ??? to lovers, smashing the space western and the zombie western together like 2 ken dolls, trauma, crack-fic adjacent at times, hurt/comfort, soft not super explicit smut, self harm, found family, din djarin eventually removes the helmet, blindfold, long distance relationship, survivors guilt, angst with a happy ending, non sexual intimacy, it gets worse before it gets better, alcohol mention, game II canon divergent — but boy does it come close, canon typical violence, minor character death, major character injury, bi!joel miller, bi!din djarin

To be explored later - Frankie/Santi one shot by @legendary-pink-dot

Summary: You and your boyfriend Santi fuck his best friend Frankie and it's a little more MMF than you were expecting -- much to your delight Tags: Swearing, dirty talk, rough-ish sex, hair pulling, oral sex (m receiving), a couple of spanks, edging if you squint, also yearning m/m if you squint, unprotected PIV, snowballing, threesome, dom!Santi.

sweets for my sweet; sweets from my sweet - Ezra one shot by @tinytinymenace

Summary: you are a cook at an exploration camp and one of the miners asks you about Earth and brings you a treat Tags: Brief mentions of planet death (RIP Earth) and strained family dynamics but on balance this is soft.

Release Your Inhibitions - Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

Summary: Shortly after revealing his face to you, Din’s worried about the faces he makes during sex, since he’s never had to worried about that before. You suggest something that might ease his worries; a blindfold. Tags: canon divergent, established relationship, Din is insecure and inexperienced, helmet comes off, blindfolding, oral sex (M receiving), vaginal sex, light biting, creampie, super romantic and loving sex, use of Mando’a words/phrases (Cyar’ika = sweetheart, Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum = I love you, Yooba solus mesh'la = You are beautiful), no use of y/n

Best in Show - Dieter one shot by @covetyou

Summary: The Academy Awards, the most well known, well planned, film award ceremony in the world. So why is the host missing? Tags: dual narrative, masturbation (m), voyuerism, drug reference (our boy is sober but struggling), subby Dieter, slight humiliation kink, very brief mentions of other sex acts (anal play, PIV, cum play), reader talks Dieter through a very nervy wank.

Still Bejeweled - Joel one shot by @janaispunk

Summary: after breaking up with your boyfriend, your self-esteem is crushed. your best friend takes you to your favorite bar to take your mind off of things. there's a band is playing there tonight and the singer immediately catches your eye. inspired by taylor swift's bejeweled – and when i meet the band, they ask, 'do you have a man?', i could still say, 'i don't remember' Tags: no/pre-outbreak au, no sarah, musician!joel, small age gap (reader is in her late 20s, joel's in his mid 30s), reader is described as smaller than joel and has hair long enough to pull, a bit of angst, fluff, making out, fingering, dirty talk (joel talks you through it, i just know it), praise kink, unprotected p in v (i just didn't feel like mentioning it, this is my fantasy world where pregnancies & sti's don't exist, but they very much exist in the real world, don't do this), joel has a big dick (it's canon), consent king joel, rough sex, ass-slapping, hair-pulling

Negotiations - Max Phillips one shot by @prolix-yuy

Summary: Max Phillips never found marketing to be all that helpful. Hell, running an ad on Facebook was easy enough. But then you walked in the door and he knew he had to have you, in all the ways he could. Tags: T, descriptions of male and female bodies, some fantasizing and suggestive themes.

Under the Stars - Joel one shot by @undercoverpena

Summary: joel finds that you become a thing of unnatural order, all ethereal as the moonlight kisses your curves. Tags: post outbreak. smut. oral sex (m receiving). tying joel up with rope. cutting joel free with a knife. p in v. jo's spelling. feelings, but joel-feelings. softer!joel

Apotheosis - Din series by @beskarandblasters

Summary: Din Djarin is a force-sensitive bounty hunter, working for the remnants of the Empire. He's on the hunt for you, an ex-rebel spy who has key information; the location where Luke Skywalker is building his Jedi training academy. But when you're captured, you're not going to give up the location easily. Din will have to utilize “alternative methods” to turn you over to the dark side. Tags: canon divergent, dark!Din, switches between Din and Reader’s point of view, eventual smut, Star Wars lore (not super heavy), manipulation/gaslighting, murder/minor character death, no use of y/n

Home - Frankie series by @dancingtotuyo

Summary: Frankie always comes home to you. Tags: fluff, angst, girl dad!frankie, recovering!Frankie, references to drug use, references to violence, trauma, healing.

Met the Devil Last Night - Joel one shot by @pedgito

Summary: I made a joke about wanting to screw dirt-covered Joel even if he was deep in the trenches of hell and...well, yeah. This is pure filth and nothing else. Tags: Porn with minuscule plot, if you willfem!reader, demon!joel, no specific age gap since dude is a literal demon, but reader is early 20s and I picture Joel to be his younger self (around 36), mentions of su*cidal ideations, this all a completely made up concept pls don't come for me about rituals, ect i will cry. virgin!reader, reader's father is a priest and horrible (just a total douche)/mother isn't alive, spitting, oral, unprotected piv, blood drinking, competency kink, innocence kink, mutual masturbation

Pearl Rosary - Din one shot by @sweetercalypso

Summary: Priest of Mandalore!Din Djarin listens to your sins during confession Tags: public(ish) sex, finger sucking, deepthroating, cock worship, facial, reader is a Mandalorian who takes her helmet off, so much religious imagery

Good Boy - Dieter/Javi P one shot @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Summary: Dieter gets cucked. That's it. That's the fic. Tags: cucking, PIV, creampie, oral sex f receiving, cum eating, PWP/plot what plot?, dom!Javi, sub!dieter, idk what reader is... having a good time?

Whatta Man - Marcus Pike series by @atinylittlepain

Summary: He's looking for something other than vanilla, and she is more than happy to provide such a service to him. Tags: this is smut, pegging, rimming, sucking and fucking, sex work, lowkey sugardaddy!marcus, sweet shy marcus getting his world rocked, and then pancakes and a blackberry and a black american express card so ya know, the works.

----

Self Promo:

in the a.m. - javier peña loose fit series

Summary: Between sleeping with informants and getting in bed with Los Pepes in the fight to bring down Escobar, Javier Peña also finds time to be with you. Wrestling with crippling self hatred, Javi tries and fails to keep his blood stained hands off of you. Based on some of my favorite Arctic Monkeys songs <3 Tags: smoking, probably shit spanish, smut, angst, established situationship, emotionally unavailable!Javi, references to past arguments/past hookups because this has been an ongoing thing and I love to start in the middle of a story, loose fit series, trauma, probably, sad!Javi, self hating!Javi, Javi very briefly picks you up, Javi crying, Javi yelling, reader yelling, did I mention angst?

[something-tofightfor]

Root Pearl: 4

Pairing: Ezra x female reader - musician AU

Word Count: 10,177

Rating: M. Language. Some alcohol. Conversations about the past. Sex talk/talk of previous partners. Ezra feeling uncertain/inadequate about his missing arm.

Summary: Having Ezra and Cee over for dinner brings you all out of your comfort zone for a little while... but it’s nowhere near as awkward as you imagine. 

Blanket warnings: loss of a parent, character death, survivor’s guilt, learning to deal with the loss of a limb, infidelity (not Reader w/Ezra), blood, bodily injury, heavy angst.

Author’s note:

Finally. But I’m going to take a short break from posting this one to focus on Kinktober, Dangerous, Not Like The Movies and to finish Life is Good. I’m still going to be writing this one - but I want to push out a few other things before I circle back around ... and that also includes Locked Down. TY in advance for your patience - but this is a pretty good place to leave them (for now.)

Catch up on the first three parts of this story here

She wants to corner him and ask Ezra questions as soon as you step out the door, but Cee tells herself that she can’t. If he wanted to talk about it, he would have told me. She’s excited though, despite the fact that she feels terrible - the girl’s intrusion clearly interrupted a moment that the two of you would never get back. But I didn’t know. I couldn’t have known because they never said anything. 

She sits on the edge of her bed, staring out the window at the city beneath her. Then, Cee grins, pleased in a way that she hasn’t been in a long time at the idea that finally, Ezra is doing something that makes him truly happy and not just sitting in the apartment with his thoughts. She stands, moving over to her dresser to grab her hair dryer, but before she can turn it on, there’s a knock at the door and then it opens - just a crack. “Cee?” 

“Come in.” Setting the dryer down, Cee turns and faces Ezra directly, her arms crossed over her chest. “So you had a good night?” He enters the room, the man taking a deep breath, and then he nods enthusiastically. “Do you want to -”

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to have to backtrack, little bird.” Ezra’s smile grows, the man looking almost youthful, and Cee can’t remember a time he ever seemed so excited about something that didn’t have anything to do with music. “But I don’t … I don’t believe that I have any reason to do that. Tonight was …” He frowns, briefly as he thinks, but then the smile returns. “She invited us over for dinner next week, so I didn’t fuck it up too badly.”

“Dinner? At her house?” Ezra nods in reply, his eyes still on the girl. Why both of us? “So I’d be third wheeling on a date? That’s like …”

“She specifically invited you. She wants you there, too.” That doesn’t make sense to her; Damon’s dates never wanted her around, and neither did he, even when he’d bring women to their place. And it never mattered what I did once I introduced people to Ezra or Zed or Damon before. They just… “Cee?” His voice interrupts her thoughts, the man reaching out and carefully closing his fingers around her arm. “I told her Tuesday. She said we can come over after my session, but I’ll need to give her an idea of what to cook. So think about it, and let me know, alright?” She nods, still trying to process what he’s telling her. 

“You can’t be grumpy with her, Ezra. Even after a bad PT session. Not on a second date.” Ezra laughs, rolling his eyes. “I’m serious. She might like you, but -”

“I will do my best not to offend someone that is offering to feed the two of us for the night. You have my word.” Cee laughs then, hearing the amusement in his voice, and then sits back on the end of the bed, looking up at him. 

“I interrupted you tonight, didn’t I?” He nods without hesitation and she winces. Oops. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” 

“It might have been for the best.” What? “I never planned on inviting her up here. It just happened.” She gasps as she realizes that he’s speaking the truth - Ezra hadn’t ever invited any of his dates to the apartment with the exception of Inumon, and that was only because she’d already been there for music related purposes. So even having her here tonight was huge. I knew it. “She invited herself up in the first place, but … but I invited her in.” 

“You said she came up because she was trying to help you. Was that a lie?” Ezra shakes his head slowly, pressing his lips together. “Was she hoping that -”

“I made my intentions clear earlier tonight. Hers were just as transparent, Birdie. She was just making sure that I got in alright. But I didn’t know if you were here or awake, and you know that I have trouble with my medication sometimes, so…”

“So you invited her in.” She bites her lip, narrowing her eyes. “And then once she was in …” 

“Yes.” He shivers as he looks up at the ceiling, reaching up and stroking his beard briefly. “Taking things a step further might have muddied the waters, even though I wanted… I wanted to.” Wrinkling her nose, Cee laughs again, crossing her legs at the ankle and then leaning forward. 

“You weren’t lying.” She pauses, giving him a chance to catch up. “You definitely had something to tell me after tonight.” He laughs - loudly - the sound filling the room and when Cee pushes off the bed and makes her way to where he stands, he’s still going, shoulders shaking with the sound. “I’ll go to dinner, Ezra. But I’m not staying the whole night, alright? She might have invited me, but I’m sure that she wants to spend time with just you.” 

“That’s fair.” He sucks in a breath, steadying himself. “And I have to admit that I have an ulterior motive for wanting you to go.” Oh? “I don’t usually date, so I am … not well-versed in all that the act entails. I may need your help.” She knows he won’t - knows that once he becomes truly comfortable with you, things will come naturally. At least I hope so. “My first question.” He clears his throat, genuine confusion on his features. “Flowers or chocolate? Both? Neither? Do I take a bottle of ale? Wine? Is there -”

“Ezra, I’ve been out on like… four dates in the last couple years. We weren’t ever in one place long enough for me to have a relationship with anyone, plus Damon wasn’t exactly… thrilled with the idea. And just because I might like something, or think that I would like something…” She trails off. “But I’d skip the chocolate. Not everyone likes it. And it would depend on what she drank tonight if you want to take a bottle of something. She had a mixed drink when she and I were at dinner, so I can’t help you there, but …” Cee stands again, putting her hands on her hips. “Start with her social accounts. Look at the pictures she’s posted. See what she likes, Ezra. If you want to take something over to her house, make it personal.” She rolls her eyes. “I know you’re not used to doing that with the people you -” 

“Alright, alright.” He holds up a hand, his smile gentle. “Understood, Cee.” She watches him yawn, ducking his head down and tucking his face into the crook of his elbow and she follows suit, her eyes closing and her nose scrunching up with a wide yawn of her own. “It’s late. I should sleep. It’s been a long time since I’ve been so … sociable.” She sees that he does, in fact look tired from up close, and Cee nods, gesturing back to her bed. 

“I’m not far behind you. Can I use the car tomorrow? I have some -”

“Of course.” He agrees, yawning again before turning away from her. “Thank you, Cee.” Glancing back over his shoulder, she watches as his mouth tilts upward into a small, knowing smile. “For including me in the things she offered to send you. I don’t… I don’t know where this is going to go, but …” He trails off as the phone in his pocket makes a noise, his eyes darting down to his waist. Bet she’s texting to let him know she made it home.

“You’re welcome.” She nods as she turns back to where the hair dryer rests, reaching for it. “And Ezra?” He hums in reply, waiting. The barrel of the dryer in her hand, Cee turns to face him, glad to see that the man’s looking into her room again, even though he’s partially in the hallway with his hand on the doorknob. “Don’t fuck this up. Whatever’s going to happen… will happen. Don’t sabotage yourself.” There’s no verbal reply, but she sees the smile return to his lips, Ezra’s head bobbing up and down as he pulls the door shut, giving her her privacy. And hopefully checking the message he just got. 

Moments later, the sound of the dryer is all she hears - but the girl grins at her reflection in the mirror the entire time she gets ready for bed.

— 

She’s driving, but it’s only because Ezra is nervous, the man fidgeting in the passenger seat so much that more than once, Cee has to stop herself from drawing attention to the way he’s treating his shirtsleeves - first pushing them up to bare his forearms and then pulling them back down again to cover himself to the wrist. 

She doesn’t want to embarrass him, but she understands why he’s more anxious than usual. Even though she doesn’t know what made him decide to wear his prosthetic from the physical therapy appointment to your house, Cee is happy to see the man using it - choosing boots with laces that he’d had to use both hands to tie, bucking his seatbelt with his right hand instead of reaching across his chest with  his left, tapping a rhythm against his thighs with both hands. It’s progress. Only a little, but it’s progress. 

When she pulls up to your house, they both take a few minutes to observe it before she removes the key from the ignition and turns her head to look at him. “Do you want to go in first? I can wait -” 

“No. We go together.” Ezra’s eyes are clear and when he looks into hers, she sees that he’s not only anxious - he’s also determined. Good. “Cee, should I take off my -”

“Do whatever makes you feel confident, Ezra.” Cee licks her lips, glancing over at your front door. “I think it’s good for you to keep it on, but if you want to take it off, I can help you with that once we’re inside if you need me to.” He thinks about it for long moments and then shakes his head, the fingers of his right hand tightening against his knee. 

“I’ll keep it on. The doctors said… the doctors said I need to use it more often, and … this is as good a time as any.” It is. She nods and then jerks her head to the left, raising a brow. “Yeah. We should go in. I don’t want her to get the wrong impression.” Ezra opens his door after unbuckling his seatbelt and then exits the car, reaching into the back seat for the things he’s brought for you - a small bouquet of flowers that he’d had arranged based on a few of your previous posts and a bottle of an ale that you’d said was your favorite a few months back. That had been a little difficult to find, and it had actually been her doing, but Cee is more than happy to help Ezra out, especially if it means making him look good in your eyes. Not that he needs much help. 

She follows closely behind him as he heads for your front door, his back straight and his shoulders squared, and Cee can’t keep the smile off of her face as he lifts his hand - the right one - and raps on it with his knuckles, the neck of the bottle held tightly between his fingers. 

You answer quickly, pulling the door open with a radiant smile on your face and for a few seconds, Cee’s frozen in place at the way you look at Ezra - eyes lighting up as you see him standing there and then widening when you notice what he’s holding. Your lips part when he holds the flowers out to you, but even as you take them, thanking him, you’re looking past the man and at Cee, some of the joy turning into uncertainty. Not today. Cee winks at you and that’s all it takes - your expression settling back into happiness as you lift the bouquet to your nose, inhaling. “Thank you, Ezra. This wasn’t … you didn’t have to…” 

“I wanted to.” He sounds relieved and Cee bites back a giggle as you invite both of them in, telling them they can leave their shoes by the door and their coats over the back of the couch. You take the bottle from Ezra before the man bends down to untie his bootlaces, and Cee looks around the room to get her bearings.

The space is open and airy - decorated with everything that makes it feel like a true home; pictures and books, candles and other knick knacks on shelves. Your couch looks comfortable, as does the chair that is in position so that no matter where someone sits, they can see the screen mounted to the wall. “I thought we’d eat outside.” Your voice is a welcome interruption of her thoughts, and Cee looks over at you at the same time Ezra straightens up, shrugging his coat down both arms. “I turned on the space heater so it’s warm enough, and we should have enough light.” Wetting your lips, you let your eyes move from Ezra to Cee and then back, one hand pointing behind you and into the kitchen. “It’s about ten minutes from being ready, so -”

“That sounds great.” Cee interrupts you, stepping forward and tossing an arm over Ezra’s shoulders, leaning into his side. “I like your house. I’m jealous that you have a yard. We have the balcony, but… it’s not the same.” 

“No, it’s not.” Ezra looks down at her, relief in his eyes. “And Birdie’s right. This is a nice place. I would look more closely, but I don’t want to offend you, so -”

“You’re not.” Holding the flowers out, you continue. “Let me get these into some water, and that bottle into the fridge, and then I’ll give you guys the tour. It’s not much, so we can definitely finish before the food’s ready.” You pause. “If you want.”  Cee wants, and she knows Ezra does, too, so she’s relieved when the man agrees, both arms hanging by his side and his fingers flexing nervously. 

You lead them around after returning from the kitchen - showing them the living room and the lower floor of the house before taking them upstairs to the bedrooms and bonus room. She pays close attention to the pictures hanging on your wall and sees some with your friend Jillian, along with ones that include what she assumes are family members. But everything with Robbie is gone. Cee smiles, noticing that there is also no trace of the fact that only a month earlier, a man lived there, too. And that’s good for Ezra. 

You’ve given her no reason to mistrust you, but the thought of you doing something to hurt the man that she’s grown to think of as family puts an ache into the center of her chest. She isn’t like that. Cee doesn’t know you well, but she has a good feeling about you, and an even better feeling about the way Ezra acts around you. And it’s none of my business. They’re adults. They can… make their own choices. 

By the time the three of you are back on the main floor and standing in the kitchen, Cee’s smiling again. “Can I help you carry anything? Plates or cups, or -”

“Everything’s already outside except the food, but if you and Ezra want to get something to drink and then go sit, you can.” You point to the door that leads to the back yard. “I’ll carry everything else out.” 

“Let me help.” Ezra reaches for you with his right arm but stops before he touches you, his gaze dropping to his fingers, which curl back against his palm before he retracts it, sucking in a breath. “I have two hands tonight, let me make them useful.” You frown at his hesitation to touch you with his prosthetic and Cee feels it at the same time she sees your expression change, followed by your movement - a half step toward him and not away, even though you also stop yourself from actually touching him, instead nodding. 

“Fine.” You raise a brow. “But take drinks outside first, alright? Then you can come back in and carry that bowl out.” When you look at her, your smile grows. “But you, Cee? You can stay outside and enjoy the back yard. There’s really not much to help with.” 

“Ok.” Cee smiles back, cocking her head to the right. “If you say so.” 

—

He’d made a few missteps, but for the most part, Ezra thought the night was going well. Dinner was delicious, and even though Cee was a good cook, you were very good, encouraging both of them to have multiple servings and making a point to tell them that you’d be sending home leftovers since you’d made way too much. “And it’s just me here. There’s no way I can finish it all.” 

Cee had agreed immediately, chewing on a breadstick, and Ezra was in no position to say no, especially since it meant that neither of them would need to cook the following day, either. But as you got closer to the end of your meal, Ezra knew that things were about to change. And they did when Cee pulled her phone out while she was helping you clear the dishes, Ezra  sitting in his chair and staring out over the small but well-kept yard. 

“Ezra, is it alright if I leave for a while?” She poked her head out the door, smirking. “Allera’s home from work, and she wants to go shopping.” That’s a poor excuse, Birdie. Cee stepped back outside and toward where he was sitting, phone still in hand. “I’ll come back and get you later, but she doesn’t have another night off for -”

“You’re leaving?” You followed Cee outside, a towel held in your hands. “Does that mean -”

“My friend’s got a night off of work, and she wants to go to the all-night flea market. I haven’t seen her in a few weeks, so I thought it would be fun.” She looked between the two of you, and Ezra held his breath. What if she wants me to leave with Cee? “I’ll come back and get Ezra. Unless you -”

“I thought we could all watch a movie or something.” You frowned, even though you didn’t stop gathering the napkins and empty cans from the table, putting them into a bag. “But if you want to go, that’s fine too. That flea market’s really fun.” He watched as you bit down on the corner of your lower lip, deep in thought. 

“I’ll call a ride home, Birdie. You haven’t seen Allera in a long time. Go. Have fun.” He caught Cee’s wink and then watched as she turned toward you, opening her mouth and talking excitedly as the two of you headed back into the house, leaving him alone again. It didn’t take him long to relax, sinking deeper into his chair and propping his chin up with one hand, that elbow on the table. 

“I brought you another drink.” You cleared your throat, Ezra’s attention drawn toward  the sound of your voice. “Figured we could sit out here for a little while longer.” He extended his arm, taking the drink from your hand and after you took your own seat, you pointed at him with one finger. “You’re still wearing it. Does that mean that therapy today was good?” Taking a sip, you paused and then closed your eyes, swallowing. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me, that’s not my business, but …”

“It wasn’t bad.” He sipped, too, head shaking back and forth slowly. “And I figured you’d ask, since every other time you’ve seen me, I have been down a limb.” He barely caught it - the smallest twitch of your lips before you spoke again. 

“Not every time.” No, not every time. “But I’m glad that it was a good day for you. My dad had knee surgery when I was a kid, and most of the time when he was done with his PT sessions, he was miserable for the rest of the day. He hated going to them even though he knew he needed to.” You took another drink, that one longer, and Ezra waited to see what else you’d say. “Why’d you stop yourself from touching me earlier? Is it because Cee was there, or was it something else?” 

The way you were looking at him was enough to tell Ezra that you already knew the answer. But why is she making me say it? “I…” He looked away, thinking. Fuck it. “I wasn’t sure you’d want me to touch you with it. It’s one thing if you don’t know, but -”

“Ezra.” You leaned forward, your hand shooting out and settling over the one he was resting against the tabletop. “I don’t…” You closed your eyes, letting out a breath, and when you opened them, he saw the determination in the way you looked at him. “You could have touched me. I wouldn’t have stopped you.” You curled your fingers over his hand and then pulled it back, sitting up straight in your chair. “I hope that no one’s made you feel like -”

“No one has.” He glanced down and then back at you, fingers flexing. “I’m just self conscious about it. That’s part of the reason that I don’t wear it as much as I should. I know that it looks like my actual hand and arm, but …”

“But you know it’s not.” Yeah, that’s… right. “Can I ask you something?” You sipped from your drink, waiting until he’d nodded. “Can you feel anything when you wear it? If you use it to pick something up, or to touch something, can you feel it?” 

“Yes and no.” He shifted in his chair, leaning closer to you. “I can feel pressure. So if I go to pick up a fork or tie my shoes, I can feel when I’m touching something. Same thing when I touch it or my doctors do.” He brought his right hand up and held it a few inches off the table, spreading his fingers. “But I can’t feel anything else. No temperatures. No pain. It… my hand doesn’t get tired, and my grip is…” He flexed his fingers, staring down. “It’s a reminder of what Iost, because it’s not …”

“It’s not yours.” Cautiously, you reached for him again and slid your fingers over the back of the hand he’d just been talking about, slowly trailing the tips of them over the ridges beneath the skin. “I take it it won’t be that way when you get the other one? The permanent one?” He turned his hand partway to the side and your fingers followed, switching from the back of his hand to his palm, the edge of one nail tracing over the lines etched into the skin that covered the underlying structure. 

He closed his fingers around yours a few seconds later, agreeing. “That’s what they tell me. This one is a true prosthetic, and even though I can control it thanks to an implant, it’s not … integrated into my body. The one I’m waiting on will be. That one won’t be removable. That one will be tied directly to my nervous system, and if everything goes according to plan, it’ll be almost like having my real arm back.” They way they’d explained things to him had sounded too good to be true, but before he’d made a decision, Ezra had met with others that had the same types of artificial limbs.

Their stories had encouraged him, and in more than half of the conversations he’d had, there’d been no visible way to tell which was the implanted limb - which encouraged him more. “I hope that it works out for you, Ezra.” You smiled at him, squeezing his hand once and then pulling yours back. “I’m sorry if I asked something I shouldn’t have. I was just … wondering.” 

“Of course you were.” He reached up, running his fingers through his hair before he let his hand fall back into his lap. “And like I said the other night, nothing is off limits for you. I meant that.” You eyed him for a few seconds and then stood, reaching for your mostly empty drink. “Are we going in?”

“Yeah. I was serious about watching a movie.” You arched a brow. “And now that Cee’s not here, we don’t have to worry about paying attention.” What? “We can keep talking, if you want.” You grinned. “Come on. You can pick for us.” He followed you into the house, drink in hand, and when he walked into the living room, saw that the case for his prosthetic was propped up on the chair, the small bag that contained his backup sleeve next to it. “Cee left that for you. Just in case you wanted to remove it.” You stepped next to him, one shoulder brushing his. “She said you don’t usually wear it for as long as you’ve had it on today, so…” He felt a surge of affection for the girl - and for you, the man turning to face you completely. 

“I’ll… if you don’t mind, yeah. I want to take it off.” He watched for your reaction, waiting to see if you were disappointed that he didn’t want to keep his arm on, but you only nodded, pointing at the hallway. 

“If you need privacy, you can go into the bathroom or the office. I don’t… I’m sorry, Ezra, I don’t know much about this. Do you need help? Is that an offensive question?” You were genuinely nervous and it was endearing to the man in a way that he couldn’t have explained if he’d tried. But I like it. 

“I appreciate the offer, but I can get it. It’s not … there’s a lot of scarring. Cee has seen it and it doesn’t bother her, but I can manage.” He didn’t want you to see the end of his residual limb; the large, jagged scars still raised and healing, nothing like the subdued silver of the one on his cheek. “At first, I couldn’t. But over the months…” He continued to speak even as he reached for the case and bag, lifting both with one hand. “I’ve gotten better.” 

“Well if you need me, I’ll be out here. Just let me know.” You paused. “Ezra? Do you want popcorn? Maybe some chips? I’ve got plenty of snacks.” 

“I don’t. Dinner was enough for me.” He hesitated in front of the bathroom door, looking over his shoulder at you. “It won’t take long, I promise.” 

“No rush.” You lowered yourself onto the couch, shrugging. “Take as long as you need.” Nodding twice, he closed the door behind himself a few seconds later and  then set the case down on the counter, opening it.

The process was actually quite simple - pulling his shirt over his head before releasing the seal that attached the limb to the remaining portion of his arm. Next, he eased it down and free of the protective sleeve beneath. The difficult part was balancing the weight of the arm in his good hand and ensuring that he didn’t drop the prosthetic. But I haven’t done that in weeks. 

And he didn’t do it that night, either. The man exhaled in relief as it came free, Ezra nestling the bulk of it in the padded case before pulling off the sleeve and exposing the skin beneath it. He’d have to cover it again, unlike he did when he was relaxing at home most nights, but Ezra wanted to give the skin a few minutes to breathe. So he busied himself with packing everything securely and closing the case, setting it on the floor. 

He stared at himself in the mirror for almost a full minute, eyes traveling over his bare chest and stomach, lingering on the wound there. I almost have more scars than clear skin. He scoffed, bringing his hand up and prodding gently at his abdomen, fingers tracing over the edges of the scar. That had been the thing to almost kill him. Though his arm had been bad, most of the blood had been contained, pooling beneath his skin. But his stomach was a different story - and one that he didn’t like to think about. Especially now that I know why Damon crashed. He turned on the water and carefully cleaned off the end of his arm before applying lotion to it, letting that soak in and then covering it with a thinner sleeve that covered the surface but didn’t constrict it completely. 

When he pulled his shirt on, Ezra looked back into the mirror and frowned, hating the way the end of his sleeve just hung loosely. But there’s nothing I can do about that right now. Cee would have tied it off for him, the girl’s hands working the material into a nice, neat knot. But she’s not here, and there’s no way I’m going to ask. When he stepped back into the main room, Ezra was happy to see you curled up on the couch, the remote in your hand as you flipped through channels. You turned your head toward him, giving him a single nod and then motioned for him to come sit. 

Ezra did - stopping long enough to put the case on the chair and then dropping down next to you, settling against the cushions but leaving some space between your bodies. “Feel better?” Sitting up straight, you turned to face him, waiting for the man to nod in agreement. “Good.” Your eyes drifted down to the end of his sleeve, and then, in a voice so hesitant that Ezra wondered if you regretted asking before you even finished your question, you spoke again. “Do you want me to roll that sleeve up for you? I’d offer to help tie it, but I don’t want to stretch it out.” 

“You don’t…” Ezra frowned but then agreed, twisting his body so that the empty sleeve was closer to you. You made quick work of it, fingers nimbly rolling the fabric up so that it wasn’t hanging anymore, the bottom few inches of the remaining portion of his arm exposed. Your fingers lingered there for a few seconds,  but then you pulled away, nodding in satisfaction. “Thank you.” 

The two of you leaned back and got comfortable, continuing to flip through channels until you found something to watch, and when you set the remote down, you cleared your throat, turning your head to the right. “Gali, lights down 20%.” The room darkened and you didn’t say anything else, the two of you focused on the wall-mounted screen. 

It was silent, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, Ezra gradually relaxing next to you as the movie played. He was watching the screen, sure, but he was also thinking, the man wondering how you’d react if he put an arm around your shoulders and drew you closer. Only one way to find out, he decided after a few minutes. Ezra lifted his arm and stretched it out along the back of the couch and then, after a couple seconds, brought it forward, running his thumb over your upper arm slowly. 

He didn’t have long to wait for your response. You leaned closer, tilting your head to the side and letting it rest against his shoulder, and when Ezra shifted slightly to accommodate you, he felt your intake of breath. “Should have grabbed a blanket before we got comfortable, now I don’t want to move.” Your voice quiet, you sighed. “But I also want a blanket, so…” He laughed, looking down at you. “How about you, Ezra?” 

“I wouldn’t say no to a blanket.” He wasn’t cold, but the thought of being close to you and covered, the cocooned warmth of whatever blanket you chose offering a sense of intimacy that he hadn’t experienced in a long time appealed to him more than he wanted to admit. “Do you want me to get one? Tell me where they’re at.”

“You’re a guest, Ezra. Stay put.” Pulling away from him, you stood and then crossed your arms. “Want anything? Need anything?” He shook his head, keeping his eyes on you and his arm stretched out over the back of the couch as you walked to the other side of it and bent over, pulling a large blanket from a basket. When you sat again, you sat closer to him, using both hands to unfold the fabric and then drape it over both of your lower bodies. “Much better.” When you leaned in, returning your head to his shoulder, you laughed quietly. “You can put your arm back around me if you want.” I want. 

But instead of timidly touching you, Ezra used a hand on your arm to pull you closer, half of his palm resting on bare skin, the other half settled on the material of your t-shirt. “Did you do this on purpose?” A questioning “hmm” was your only reply, and when Ezra continued, he hoped that he wasn’t reaching - and that he was correct in his assumption. “Sit down so that I’d have to sit with my good arm next to you when I came in.” You didn’t answer right away but when you did, it was with an upturned face and a tiny smile, your eyes glinting. 

“I might have.” His eyes widened, mouth opening briefly, but he didn’t have a chance to speak before you continued. “I didn’t know if you’d sit right next to me, but …I hoped you would.” The blanket moved as you fidgeted, but Ezra didn’t let you flounder for long, saying your name as his eyes dropped to your mouth and then flicked back up to meet yours. 

“You’re very thoughtful.” He blinked. “Even before we met, you’ve… been considerate of me. And now of my condition.” You looked away briefly, glancing at his right arm, but then looked back up, waiting. “Thank you.” 

“You’ve been through a lot, and the last thing I want to do is make your day more difficult.” He felt your hand brush against his thigh but it wasn’t intentional - you were just trying to settle both of your hands in your lap. I wish it was intentional.  “Plus, I wanted to see if you’d try and make a move, Ezra. Gave you an opening, had to know if you’d take it or not.” He laughed at that, the tension suddenly broken, and before he knew it, the arm around you tightened, Ezra urging you even closer to him. 

“Oh, I took it alright. You think I’d pass up the opportunity to put my arm around you?” Your hand moved then, coming out from under the blanket and crossing his stomach to brace against the couch on his other side. “You’re crazy.” 

“No I’m not.” You hugged him, even though the angle was a little awkward, and Ezra dropped his hand lower, sliding it down your arm and letting it rest near your elbow. “I like hanging out with you. I’m having fun. It wasn’t like this with…” Trailing off, you pulled away from him and frowned. I don’t like that. “It wasn’t like this with Robbie. Not even in the beginning.” So I was right. It wasn’t ever really good between them. “Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have -”

“No, it’s fine.” He squeezed your arm, saying your name. “You just ended the relationship. You’re going to think about him. It happens.” 

“I don’t want to, though. He cheated on me, Ezra. For months. Made me feel like shit about something that I wasn’t even doing. He doesn’t deserve another one of my thoughts, so -”

“Hey.” He reached up, laying a finger over your lips and catching you off guard. “I’m having fun too. I know that the first couple dates with someone are usually pretty awkward, but … these aren’t.” He shrugged. “If we keep spending time together, these topics are going to come up. And if I’m honest with you, it’ll probably happen more on my end than yours, just because …” Because I’ve gotten around. “Because of all the places I’ve been and things that I’ve done.” He saw understanding in your eyes, but no flash of jealousy - and that was a surprise to him. Because people can’t always hide that. “But I do agree with you. Anyone that would do something like that to you? They don’t deserve a single second of your time.” 

He’d moved his finger from your lips as he spoke, though he didn’t look away from you, and Ezra realized that his knuckles were tucked beneath your chin, his lower lip pushed out in a pout during his pause. “Ezra? You -” 

He leaned in first, angling his head to the side, but you followed suit, closing the distance between you until you were just as close as you’d been the previous night. No one is going to interrupt tonight. He wet his lips, barely retracting his tongue before they met yours - but it only took seconds for him to move to deepen the kiss … and you let him. 

— 

Bringing up Robbie hadn’t been on your to-do list, but it slipped out, and you were angry at yourself over it. Ezra didn’t seem to mind, though, and when he reached up and put a stop to your words with a single finger, you were stunned. He wasn’t doing it to be condescending or to assert dominance; Ezra’s touch was because he was right there and he knew that it would get your attention - and it did. 

As the seconds passed, Ezra agreeing with what you’d said, you realized where things were leading and had no problem with it. Because I’ve wanted to kiss him for a long time now, and … You stared at him, focused on his mouth and when the pink tip of his tongue appeared, wetting his lips, you finally closed your eyes, the sight of it too much. 

But it wasn’t until his mouth met yours that you really let yourself believe that it was happening. Ezra’s lips were soft as they pressed to yours, the tickle of his mustache on your upper lip causing your nose to wrinkle in surprise. You didn’t pull away and neither did Ezra, and after only a few seconds, you felt him part his lips just enough - and then his tongue teased against the seam of yours as his hand moved to the back of your neck. Oh… oh, alright. 

You kissed him back - accepting his tongue into your mouth and meeting it with your own, and as the kiss continued, you reached up with one hand, fingers tangling in Ezra’s hair - which was much less styled than it had been when you’d gone out for dinner, the loose curls at the back of his neck a perfect place for your hand to fall. I’m kissing him. I’m … Sighing into his mouth as Ezra’s hold on you tightened, you slid the hand that you’d used to brace yourself toward the back of the couch, cracking one eye open long enough to ensure that you weren’t going to bump into the end of his arm. “C’mere.” He mumbled the word, taking a breath. “Closer.” 

The only way for you to get closer was to completely turn your body and straddle his lap, and Ezra had to know that, but he still pulled on you, lowering the hand on your neck and pressing it against the space between your shoulder blades He must know that. Ezra’s hand didn’t move. So you did as he requested, lifting yourself off of the couch and carefully hooking one leg over both of his, knees on the cushions beside his body without breaking the kiss. 

That position was much less awkward, and once you were settled, he put his arm back around you - that time at your waist, fingers spread wide. Extending your arms, you crossed them behind his head, resting your forearms on the top of the couch and linking your fingers together. After you were in place, you settled against Ezra’s lower body, the kiss continuing, each passing second adding to the intensity. You only broke away when you needed to breathe, putting some space between you and the man beneath you before looking into his eyes. “I’m glad we waited.” Biting down on your lip, you nodded. “I’m glad Cee walked in on us the -” 

It was Ezra that interrupted you that time, the man leaning forward at the same time he urged you closer. But instead of just kissing him, you took his lower lip between your teeth, biting down on it briefly. He groaned at the feeling, his hand moving up your back to keep you close, and when you released his lip, Ezra leaned his head back - forcing you to chase his mouth in order to keep the kiss going. “You can do that again.” His voice low, you heard the rasp in it, Ezra nodding once, the movement of his head slow. “Whenever you want.” Good to know. 

Shifting your weight, you finally opened your eyes all the way to look at him and found Ezra’s staring right back, the warmth in them almost tangible. You couldn’t help yourself, bringing one hand to the man’s temple and trailing your fingers through the blonde patch there as you pushed his hair away from his face. It is soft. “Hi.” He nodded, staying silent. “Let me know if you want me to move.” 

“Might be kind of hard to finish the movie if you’re not looking at the screen.” He raised a brow, smirking. “I’m glad we waited, too.” He seemed genuine, and you felt his hand begin to move against your back, fingers stroking gently. “Wouldn’t have wanted that to happen when I was on painkillers, hmm?” He grinned. “Now I’ll remember all of it.” I will too. 

You wanted to kiss him again. In fact, you would have been content to kiss him until the moment Cee showed back up to get him or he stepped out the front door and headed home, but you didn’t want to appear too eager. That would be bad. With one final stroke of your fingers against his scalp you took a breath and then swung your leg back over, bracing your hand on his shoulder for a few seconds before you could get back into position next to him on the couch. He stayed quiet, waiting until you were settled in - the blanket back over both of your laps, your right arm tucked between your bodies and your left one slung over his belly while you leaned against his side again - to speak. 

“I’m surprised you moved.” His arm back around you, Ezra lowered his head, speaking into your hair. “Especially because I didn’t tell you to.” You could have said any number of things back to him, but you opted for telling him the whole truth instead of a few half truths. You’d thought about Ezra a lot since you’d exchanged numbers at the bar, and even more in the previous few days - but no matter how much he was on your mind, you always tried to stay realistic.

“You said you weren’t up for anything more than a kiss the other night, and I figured the same was true now.” Keeping your eyes on the screen, you continued. “If I would have stayed on your lap, Ezra, there’s no telling what might have happened, and I didn’t want things to get to the point where one of us had to draw a line.” He sucked in a breath, the small sound of surprise audible. “And the truth is, I don’t miss Robbie or anything like that, but … we just broke up. And it would feel a little like a rebound if I moved too fast with you. I don’t want that.”  I wouldn’t like that at all. “I hope that’s alright. I know you’re not used to -”

“I’ll tell you what I’m not used to.” He paused, his hand sliding down your arm and then back up, the movement slow and controlled. “And that’s someone that’s not just trying to get me into bed with them so that they have a story to tell their friends that night on the way home.” You froze, waiting to see if he’d say anything else. I can’t imagine what that must feel like. “Someone that isn’t trying to document every second we spend together as proof of our encounter.” 

“Ezra…” Closing your eyes, you tightened your arm around him. “I…” But you stopped yourself because you didn’t know what else to say. How do I even respond to that? “I would have asked you for a picture if we’d ever met at a show.” Your hand moved over his hip - back and forth, fingertips trailing over the material of his shirt. “Probably an autograph, too. But I never would have thought that you wanted to kiss me.” 

“I would have gladly given you all three of those things.” He laughed, turning his head and pressing his cheek to the top of yours. “I’m not talking about taking pictures with fans or signing a couple albums. I’m talking about the women that have tried filming on the bus, or in a hotel room. I mean the ones that take and post pictures and stories online about what their time with me was like.” He sighed. “I know I didn’t exactly do anything to stop it because I kept associating with them, but…” But that’s still your privacy. “There was one girl that asked if we could make a sex tape ten minutes after I met her, and -” 

“What?” Sitting up straight, you gaped at him in shock. “A sex tape? What did you even say to that?” He grinned, the expression one that you were surprised to see. 

“Told her that if that ever happened, it would only be with someone that I was actually in a relationship with, and that it would be recorded on my phone. That way I’d know exactly who had it, because the only way they could get it would be if I sent it to them.” He raised an eyebrow. “She was pretty and I love sex, but I’m not stupid.” He laughed again, running his fingers through his hair.  “She was not happy with me, but didn’t ask again.” 

“At the risk of sounding boring, Ezra, I don’t think I could ever ask someone that, especially after only knowing them for a few minutes.” He was still watching you with interest, both brows raised. “What’s that look for?” He narrowed his eyes briefly, a small smile appearing on his face. 

“I haven’t even told you the most interesting part of that ordeal yet.” Oh, Kevva, what could it be? “Three months later, there was a video of her and someone from another band - I can’t remember who it was right now, but we’ve played shows with them before - that got leaked.” He paused and you gasped, one hand rising to cover your mouth. “So I believe that I made the right decision on that one.” So she was trying to … oh, Ezra.

“Yeah, I’d say so.” You felt for the man, even though he’d chosen to live the lifestyle he did. There was a difference between baring yourself onstage with music and lyrics and having your privacy stolen because someone wanted to be famous for a few weeks. And there’s nothing wrong with casual sex, either, but … “You must have to be so careful.” Shaking your head, you eyed him. “Making sure people are of age, not telling them anything they can use against you or share without your consent, keeping them from taking compromising pictures and videos of you … that’s a lot. And you’ve been doing it for years, how -”

“I’ll admit that it was much more difficult when I was younger.” He sighed, scrubbing at his beard with one hand. “The first few years after our debut album came out, I was wilder than a Jaccola while we were on the road. I indulged more often than I did not.” He took a slow breath and you realized that he was about to tell you something important, so you stayed quiet, waiting. “Alcohol. Spice. Sex. We were having fun and it was giving me material to write about, so I couldn’t complain.” Ezra looked away from you, his eyes focused on the screen for a few seconds, and when he met your gaze again, he looked almost apologetic. “I made some mistakes. Luckily for me things weren’t as easily documented back then, but it was a wake up call. All of it. I learned my lesson, and became much more … subdued. I stopped with the Spice. Was more selective about partners.” 

“Was it after Aurelac Rush?” It jumped out of your mouth before you could stop it, and you winced at the thought that you’d just exposed yourself as someone that knew too much. “I just -”

“It was.” He smiled broadly. “How did you know?”

“Your music was different after that.” Lips pressed together, you shrugged. “The lyrics got more serious, especially with Karoclan and then your solo album. You were expanding what you played, too, with the guitar? I like the early albums, don’t get me wrong, but …” You looked down, the fingers of both hands twisting together. He knows you’re a fan. It won’t change anything. “I like your new stuff much more. Shows how talented you are. And if The Queen’s Lair is an example of what you’re working on now, it’s only going to get better.” 

He was quiet for a long time, the man staying still next to you, and when he said your name you looked over at him, waiting. “You probably have so much you’d like to ask me, don’t you.” You hesitated before you nodded, wetting your lips and averting your eyes. “Why haven’t you? I’m an open book.” 

“Because I’m not going to interview you while we’re out on a date, Ezra. You shouldn’t feel like you’re doing your job when you’re out trying to have fun with someone. You’re a musician, yeah, and that’s why I know of you, but I don’t want you to think that it’s all I care about.” You fell silent again, staring at your hands. This is why it’s probably easier for him to do casual, because he doesn’t have to worry about people like me. 

“I know it isn’t.” You felt it then - the man’s thumb moving in a slow arc over the base of your neck, and you lifted your head again, turning it to face him. “And I don’t think it would feel like an interview. We’ve asked each other questions many times. Have I ever complained?”

“No, but…” You poked your tongue into your cheek. “My life is boring compared to yours. I went to school, got a job, dated a couple guys. That’s it. You’ve been all over, even off planet for a tour or two. I could ask you hours worth of questions, and it still wouldn’t make a dent in what you could tell me.” 

“So you think …” He repositioned himself next to you, hips shifting. “Do you think that I’d think less of you because you haven’t experienced the same things I have? That I’d hold it against you that you chose a life for yourself that’s different than mine?” 

“No. But the answer to one question would lead to another, and then I’d just feel like I was pumping you for information. You get enough of that from other people. And I’m sure it gets old.” He sighed, swearing under his breath. 

“Actually, it’s kind of nice to have someone that knows what they’re talking about with me.” He repeated your name, asking you to look at him. “Some… most of the women I’ve been with haven’t really cared. They know enough about me to make conversation, but they haven’t been interested in anything that doesn’t involve…” He trailed off and you spoke up, finishing the sentence. 

“Sex?” Ezra nodded in agreement and you felt his hand tighten against your neck. 

“Not always sex, but … physicality.” He groaned and you saw his eyes flash, the base of his throat reddening slightly. Is he embarrassed? Why would he be? “I have been with a large number of people, but not all of those encounters resulted in the traditional act.” He swallowed. “And that’s another reason why I made it a point to tell you that sex wasn’t on the table last week. I’m sure that most of what I’ve told you is no surprise, but Kevva knows I don’t want you to think that -” 

“Oh.” It slipped out before you could stop it, your eyes going wide. “Ezra, I didn’t…you don’t need to -”

“I do. It’s one thing to be with someone for a few hours or a night here and there. But that isn’t what this is.” He moved what was left of his right arm, gesturing toward you with it, and you saw the moment that he realized what he was doing, the man’s eyes darkening and his lips twisting into a scowl. “I don’t even know if I’m able to -” Oh, no. I’m not going to let you go down that road. 

“Ezra.” You reached out, touching his jaw and then cupping it in one hand. “I’m sure you’re more than able. But we’re not there yet, alright? You kissed me for the first time like … an hour ago. When… if we need to talk about everything that goes along with sex, we will.” And I hope we do. I know it’s early but … “Besides, I meant what I said about not wanting to have this feel like a rebound. Jumping right into bed with you would be a lot of things, and I don’t want any of them to have anything to do with him.” 

Ezra didn’t reply right away but when he did, it was with a nod and a wink, the man turning his head enough so that he could nip at the heel of your hand, the scrape of his teeth making you shiver. “A lot of things? Want to tell me about some of them?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You leaned closer, eyeing him. “Need me to stroke your ego?” Retracting your hand, you’d just pulled it away from his face when he grabbed your arm. His fingers closed around it with some pressure, the man’s thumb pressed firmly to the inside of your wrist, pulse thrumming beneath it. 

“You walked right into this one,” he murmured, tugging on your arm and leaning in, too. “There are plenty of things that you could stroke…” But he didn’t get any further because he kissed you then, his grip tightening around your wrist as he lowered your connected hands to your lap. He didn’t guide it anywhere, though, just kept it secure in his grasp as his tongue licked into your mouth again, Ezra’s entire body moving toward you as he pressed his chest against yours.  

You whined against his lips - you couldn’t help it, and you felt Ezra smile, the man finally letting go of your wrist and sliding his hand back to your waist, pressing it flat against the blanket that still covered you both. You reached out with your left hand, fingers finding the material of his sleeve, and even though he flinched when you made contact with his right shoulder, he didn’t pull away or break the kiss. Because I’m not moving my hand. I’m just … touching him. 

When your lungs began to burn, you pushed on his shoulder, lips parting as you gasped for air. Ezra chuckled, his hand still on you. “You’re not even out of breath.” 

“Singer’s lungs.” He pressed his forehead against yours briefly. “And before the accident, they were even better. I Inhaled a great deal of smoke while I was unconscious, and it fucked them up a little.” He cleared his throat. “That’s why my voice sounds like this now, too.” 

“Permanent bedroom voice?” You raised a brow, unblinking. “I’d think that would be something that you could work with.” He laughed, agreeing. 

“Yeah. I guess it’s not so bad. We were worried for a while that it was going to change the way I sound when I sing, but it didn’t.” Ezra eased himself backward and onto the cushion again, sitting next to you. “I’m a little raspier now, but it’s… mostly the same.” You pulled the blanket off of both of you, setting it next to your thigh and reaching over to put an arm around his shoulders. 

“I’m excited to hear it, Ezra. I’m looking forward to the benefit show.” He reacted with surprise, but Ezra’s words came fast. 

“You don’t have to wait that long.” He stood then, your arm falling away, and then turned to look at you. “I have a studio in my apartment. Come over and sit in while I practice sometime.” Is he really offering to let me listen? Privately? “It’ll be nice to get an opinion from someone that’s not in the band.”

“What about Cee?” You looked up at him, hands clasped together between your knees. “Doesn’t she -”

“She hasn’t heard me since the last show we played. I’ve offered, but I think … I think it’s hard for her.” That made sense to you, and you didn’t press him to explain further. “Some of my gear’s in there, too. Guitars and a keyboard.” Ezra scratched the back of his neck. “Haven’t touched those since …” He sighed. “Well.” The man looked over at the clock hanging on the wall and then back at you, holding out his hand. You took it, letting him help you to your feet. “I should call Cee, and see if she’s anywhere near here, or if I need to get a ride.” 

“I’ll drive you home.” It was barely 10:30, and even if you took a few minutes to leave, you’d be back home from dropping him off much earlier than you usually went to bed. “Don’t make her leave her friend.” He opened his mouth to disagree, but you beat him to it, head shaking. “No. It’s fine, Ezra. I offered.” 

“If you’re sure…” He was still holding your hand. “Then I accept.” Good. 

“Alright, I’ll just get the leftovers for you from the kitchen and then we can go. We didn’t finish the movie, but -”

“I couldn’t even tell you what we put on.” He tugged you closer, eliminating the distance between your bodies. “But I don’t care.” When you were right in front of him, he let go of your hand, returning his to your hip. “Do you?” 

“Not at all.” You touched his side, your hand sliding up and resting against his ribs, the other one coming up to hold onto the back of his elbow. “Ezra, you -” But instead of finishing your sentence, you surged forward, catching him by surprise and kissing him hard, his surprise turning into a groan that you were more than happy to swallow. 

As you kissed him in the dim light of your living room, you stopped thinking and let yourself feel - the warmth of his body beneath your touch, the plush give of his lips as they moved with yours, the way his nose dragged against the skin of your cheek, Ezra letting you lead even though you knew that that probably wasn’t how he typically operated. And when he pulled away, his eyes fluttering open to look into yours, he was smiling, a dimple visible on one cheek through the dark hair of his beard. “If you do that again, I might not let you take me home.” 

“I have to work in the morning.” Your words were little more than a whisper, Ezra’s eyes widening at the sound. “So you have to go, because if you stay here, I won’t sleep.” He laughed again, leaning in and kissing your forehead before lifting his hand from your side and curving it around the back of your skull, holding you in place. 

“Alright.” He released you, barely holding back another smile. “Don’t let me keep you awake.” Oh, Ezra. As you moved into the kitchen to grab the containers you’d packed for him and Cee, you had a feeling that the number of days - and nights - when you and Ezra weren’t keeping each other awake was dwindling. And I can’t wait. 

—

Tag list coming separately! 

[artficlly]

face the music (chapter 9)

Music College Marvel AU - Chapter 9

!frat!musician!bucky x !frat!musician!steve x !musician!femreader

Warnings: angst, bit of fluff, violence, mentions of blood, lots of discussion of outing, mentions of alcohol, Natasha being a general menace to society, lmk if i missed anything

Word Count: 4k

A/N: wanted to pump this one out before i went to bed!! most of the party scene was NOT in my plan for this chapter, it just kinda happened so apologies for that. Next chapter we'll get some cute fluff of the boys taking care of drunk y/n so look forward to that! should i make up a playlist of songs used during this series? I was kinda basing the assignment song on All I Wanted by Paramore. also, once again forgive me for the music lingo, i don't know anything about music lmao. not proof read, sorry for typos

chapter masterlist | main masterlist

Bucky and Steve had picked up on your anxiety the moment you entered the classroom. After two weeks of practicing, it was finally time to perform and you didn’t feel entirely ready. If you were singing something familiar to you? Or if you were playing the piano? Maybe then you wouldn’t feel uneasiness clawing as your gut. You were making your debut as not only a lead vocalist but a lead vocalist for a punk rock piece. You could imagine your mother turning in her grave, she was always one of those snobs who believed in classical music superiority.  

Another thing that didn’t help ease your anxiety was the tension in the room. With both John and Loki back on campus, there was an unspoken strain put across the class. Dirty glances and wary looks were thrown, almost like you were all expecting the room to explode at any moment. 

Thankfully, most of your friends had read your body language and quickly realized you didn’t want to be bugged. You had spent most of the first hour of performances brooding in the corner. You had hoped to feel a little more cheerful before your performance. Maybe even come off as a little less of a bitch when congratulating others. You didn’t think anyone blamed you though, not with John lingering across the room, sneering at you. 

The moment you stepped in front of the microphone though, it was like a switch was flipped in your brain. No more anxiety or worry, just a job to do. You silently thanked your performers brain for taking over. Fiddling with the microphone stand, you adjusted it to your height while the three boys set up behind you. All the performances were being live streamed to the college’s social media as usual. Ironically enough, you wondered if this was going to be a good practice for the revenge plan that was underway. 

“You ready?” Steve asked from beside you, quiet enough so the mic wouldn’t pick up his voice. 

“Yeah, tell Bucky to count when he’s ready,” You reply back quietly, turning away from the mic to face Steve. He smiles at you softly, much in contrast to your nervous frown. Leaning forward, he whispers in your ear. 

“You’re going to do great, darling.” He says, somehow you hold back shuddering at the feeling of his breath against your ear and neck. Then, to your surprise, he kisses your forehead. You stare at him blankly for a moment, before cracking a small smile. 

“You’re insufferable, Rogers.” You mutter, turning to your microphone. Steve chuckles to himself as you do so, you can only thank your nerves for stopping you from flushing pink in front of your entire class. Sharon and Scott are fucking losing their minds across the room, that would be a painful conversation later. 

After being given a quick thumbs up from Steve and Sam, Bucky counts the four of you down with the smack of his drumsticks before Steve comes in on the guitar. You time the chords before you come in with the lyrics, silently praying for this to go as smoothly as all the practices from the past week.

The song starts out slow, perfect for you to warm up your voice a little further before having to hit some of the harder notes. You try to block out the rest of the people in the room, the mixture of grins and sneers staring up at you. Instead you focus on the camera, the sound of the music as you follow your queues. 

As the music began to pick up, Bucky coming in on the drums loudly, your vocals followed the urgency. You started calmer, until eventually building up to harder notes that you had to belt out to achieve. You could see Steve grinning at you, hardly paying attention to playing his chords. You didn’t even want to imagine the smirk Bucky would have plastered all over his face. 

You could imagine what they’d say. ‘See, we were right, Siren! You can sing anything, no reason to worry!’. It was probably a bit pathetic that your chest swelled with pride just thinking about how much they supported you. 

The music slowly cut out as it was your queue to hit the small solo section. It was only a few words of you belting before they all came back in on their respective instruments, but you kept your voice steady and powered through the section without fault. 

From there, the last of your lyrics was belted to match the tempo of the song. You could understand why so many rock singers had raspiness to their voices, having to hit such aggressive notes like these. It wasn’t the same as a high-pitched note in opera, no, there was a power, an emotion behind it you couldn’t describe. You had chosen to do this song, so the least you could do was fucking kill it. 

Finally, your piece was over. The last of the notes from the guitar fizzled out and the class erupted into their usual applause and cheers. Instruments safely put back in place, the four of you descend the stage and rejoin Sharon, Scott and Clint in the back. Sharon lets out a little squeal, hugging you before you can protest. 

“Oh my god! You did so well hitting those notes!” She says excitedly in your ear while you just let out a shy laugh and retreat to one of the couches. Maybe if the tension of the room wasn’t hanging over you, you would’ve celebrated more openly. You were rather desperate to get out of John’s presence. Bucky and Steve follow you after a quick conversation with Sam who heads over towards Wanda and Natasha. Natasha looks pissed off as usual, while Wanda offers you a kind smile. You could understand why Sam liked her, unlike Natasha she was always kind to everyone around her.

“See! You did amazing!” Steve says, patting your knee as he sits. You roll your eyes with a shy smile. John was watching your interaction like a fucking hawk from across the room. You couldn’t help but wonder if he would’ve tried to approach you again if you were guarded by Bucky and Steve all the time. 

“Shush.” You say dismissively, despite the grin forming across your face. 

“We’re gonna celebrate properly with drinks tonight, Siren. You can’t worm your way out of that one!”  Bucky announces. 

*

By the time you had arrived at the party, you were already tipsy. You, Steve, Bucky and Sam had all gone out to the student bar for a couple drinks, which then turned into a few more. The party was already in full-swing when the four of you arrived, Scott and Clint cheering as you stumbled through the door laughing. 

The few drinks you had at the bar turned into more as you chatted with Sharon, Yelena and Kate. It felt nice to talk about random bits of gossip and joke around with them, it felt like you had been surrounded by the boys testerone a little too much recently. Though most of the gossip ended with Yelena and Kate trying to pry into your dynamic with the boys, much to your distress. You couldn’t understand why everyone was convinced something was going on, when your silly schoolgirl-crush feelings were definitely one sided in your opinion. 

Though, it was only a matter of time before Scott came and dragged you away. He had loudly announced how Bucky and Steve were whining incessantly, asking where you were and wanting to talk to you. You had rolled your eyes with an embarrassed flush while the girls knowingly grinned at you. 

“What did you do to get them so whipped, Y/N?” Yelena had teased, much to your further embarrassment. You had only managed to whine a low ‘I don’t know!’ before you hid your face behind your cup, draining the last of the contents before letting Scott drag you away.

Steve had wrapped his arms around you, giving you a kiss on the cheek. The two of them were tipsy, definitely not as drunk as you. No, you were seconds away from forgetting the night with the way the room was spinning. You leaned on Steve for support, trying to catch up with the conversation Bucky and Sam were having. Wanda was tucked into Sam’s side with a content smile, Natasha nearby scowling at you. You shuddered at that, sending Sharon a quick ‘help me’ text. Sharon, much to your surprise, was over to your side in an instant. 

“I’m going to the bathroom, come with me?” She asked, helping pry you from Steve’s grip. You nodded, sending Steve an apologetic smile as he groaned in annoyance. 

“Why do girls always pee together?” He asked, which was only met with a laugh from you and Sharon. 

“That’s classified, Rogers.” Sharon snips, dragging you from the circle towards the downstairs bathroom. You were glad you opted for your docs tonight, heels would’ve been a mistake to even attempt to walk in.

“Thank you, I swear if Natasha could kill with a glare, I’d be like… so dead.” You giggle, though your smile quickly turns into a frown when you see the line for the bathroom. Clint had let a bunch of freshmen in for some reason, and it seemed the line was longer that you had the patience for. 

“Come on, let’s use the upstairs one.” You grumble, dragging Sharon towards the stairs. 

“I thought upstairs was off-limits tonight?” Sharon asked confused, staggering after you in her heels. 

“Yeah, only ‘cause of the freshers. We’ll be fine.” You explain, pushing your way into the empty bathroom and locking the door behind the two of you. 

“Okay, this was a great excuse to save you from Natasha but I actually need to pee.” Sharon laughs. You nod, turning your back so you’re looking at your reflection in the mirror. You silently fix your hair, reapplying your lipgloss and inspecting your eyeliner to make sure it wasn’t smudged. 

“I’m so fucking drunk right now,” You whine, only turning around to look at Sharon after she is finished. You move out of the way as Sharon goes to wash her hands. She’s smirking to herself about something, you internally groan already knowing where this is going.

“Probably doesn’t help that Bucky and Steve are like… all over you tonight.” She says with a snicker, catching your eye in the mirror. 

“Ugh. Don’t say that.” You grumble, smoothing down the fabric of your dress. You were glad you opted for something mid-thigh, anything shorter and you probably would’ve flashed someone in your drunken state. 

“Seriously! They’re, like, in love with you!” Sharon cries with a laugh, washing the soap from her hands.

“No they’re not!” You protest, watching Sharon grin at you through the mirror as she dries her hands. 

“They literally are though! They follow you around like a couple of lost puppies, you should see the little lovesick looks they give you all the time!” She continues.

“No! Shush!” You whine.

“They love you!” Sharon giggles, drawing out the ‘o’ while you make an upset face.

“Oh my god, they don't, they're gay.” You say, then slap your hand over your mouth when you realize what you’ve said. Sharon gapes at you in silence for a moment as both your drunken brains work overtime to process what you just announced.

“They’re what?” She asks in shock. You take a step back, tears forming in your eyes as you shake your head. No. Fuck. Why did you say that? How fucking stupid and drunk were you right now to just let massive information like that just slip out? 

“Wait. No, fuck. You can’t tell anyone Sharon. Oh my god, I didn’t mean for that to slip out - fuck!” You stumble over your words, tears already beginning to pour down your cheeks. Great, now you’re drunk and emotional. Crying because you just fucking outed Bucky and Steve in some weird bathroom confession. You didn’t even know why you were crying, maybe it was just the stress of all the recent events, all the sleepless nights finally catching up to you.

“They’re gay? How do you even-?” Sharon starts, but you grab her by the shoulders. 

“You can’t tell anyone Sharon, they’ll never forgive me, oh my god.” You blubber, Sharon frowns, pulling you into a hug. 

“Are you sure they’re not bisexual? Or pansexual? They’re still both obviously into you-” Sharon starts but you cut her off with a half-sob half-screaming noise. You’d just outed them, just exposed their secret and Sharon was still continuing with this bit?

“No, for fucksake. They’re dating, they’re not into me.” You mumble through tears. Your eyeliner was definitely going to be messed up now. God, you were screwed. 

“They’re… they’re dating?” Sharon questions, just as a loud knocking comes from the bathroom door as someone tries to get inside. 

“It’s probably some fucking freshers,” The distinct voice of Natasha cuts through the door. “Hey! You’re not allowed up here, get the fuck out!” She shouts, continuing to rattle the doorknob and bang on the door. 

“Fuck,” You hiss, wiping some of the tears from your cheeks. “Please don’t tell anyone, I’m serious.” You beg Sharon. 

“Of course I won’t, what do you think I am, a monster?” She chuckles, going to unlock the door while you frown. Loki had threatened to out them, and Bucky and Steve hated him. How would they react to what you had done, you had actually outed them. The guilt is already eating away at you, stupid alcohol making you not think before talking. You’d have to tell Steve and Bucky what you had done when you were less emotional, damage control or whatever. 

“We’re unlocking the door now, jesus!” Sharon shouts, tugging the door open. You’re faced with a pissed off looking Natasha and Wanda. Natasha gives you a filthy look, near sneering when she sees your tear stained cheeks. 

“You’re not supposed to use this bathroom,” Natasha snarls, you flinch but Sharon holds strong. 

“Yeah? And neither are you. We’re not fucking freshers, Natasha, grow up.” Sharon snaps back at her. Grabbing your wrist, Sharon pulls you past Natasha and Wanda, purposely shouldering Natasha on the way out. 

“Why are you crying, Y/N? Barnes and Rogers not giving you enough attention?” Natasha says to you as you pass by. Any other day, any other time it wouldn’t have hurt. Any other time both you and Sharon would’ve walked away with a scoff. But you were both drunk and emotional. Sharon pauses her walking, you feel your stomach drop when you see the enraged look in her eyes. If Sharon was one thing, she was a protector. 

“The fuck did you just say to her?” Sharon growls at Natasha. Natasha looks near delighted by Sharon’s sudden aggression, almost like she had been hunting for a good fight all night. 

“Just asking why she’s crying like a little bitch?” Natasha says innocently, grin across her red lips. Wanda looks horrified, grasping Natasha’s arm to hold her back as Sharon moves to shout into Natasha’s face. 

“Sharon don’t,” You warn. You followed Wanda’s action, grabbing her by the arm and trying to pull her back. You can already feel a fresh wave of tears beginning to surface as the tension in the hallway rises. You should’ve known this would happen. You thought it would be because of Loki or John, not Natasha. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Romanoff.” Sharon snarls, lunging forward. You grasp her tightly but only achieve being dragged forward with her. Wanda lets out a scream, everything moving faster than you can process. With a blur, Natasha punches Sharon right in the nose, blood spouting down Sharon’s face as you drag her away. Natasha and Sharon are screaming and cussing at each other, it takes all your strength to pull Sharon deeper into the hallway. 

You can’t even understand what they’re screaming, only that you need to get them far away from each other. 

Clint rounds the top of the stairs, sending you a horrified look before placing himself between Natasha and Sharon. Blood is still flowing from Sharon’s nose, in the panic it has dripped all down her face onto both your outfits and arms. 

Despite all the screaming, the world feels silent as you stare at the blood across your skin. Your grip slowly loosens on Sharon as you stagger away. You’re not sure if you’re shaking from the shock or from the sobs taking over your body. There is blood everywhere, you try to scrub it off but only succeed in smudging it deeper into your skin. 

You outed Bucky and Steve and now Sharon was bleeding because of you. Another party, another fucking disaster. Trying to calm yourself, you turn back around to drink in the developing situation. Sam is holding back Natasha while Wanda is shouting at her to calm down, Clint is helping Sharon nurse her bloody nose. Scott had also appeared at some point, looking between the groups of hysterical women in shock. 

As if on cue, Bucky and Steve round the corner into the hallway. They must’ve been summoned by the sounds of screaming. Bucky takes one look at you - sobbing and stained with blood - and pushes through the gathering crowd to get to you. You flinch away as he gets close, hugging yourself as tears continue flowing down your cheeks. 

They were going to be so mad, so disappointed, so scared. You had betrayed them by accidentally outing them, they would never forgive you. You felt inconsolable, sobs racking your body as Bucky watched you with a mixture of concern and distress. He turns to Steve, muttering some instructions to the blond before grasping your shoulder despite your protests. 

He pulls you into his room, immediately letting go and stepping away the moment you were safely inside. He stands in silence, watching as you gradually begin to calm yourself from your sobbing. 

“Siren, darling. Are you hurt?” He eventually speaks up, voice low. 

“No. No. It’s Sharon’s blood. Fuck, is she okay?” You say through gasps. Bucky hesitantly reaches forward, placing his hands on your shoulders and beginning to rub them comfortingly. You don’t flinch away, instead leaning into the touch. 

“She’s okay. Clint and Scott are helping her.” He assures you, pulling you closer as you try to steady your gasping breaths. 

“I was scared when I saw you crying like that, I thought Natasha hit you too.” He admits, rubbing slow circles into your back. You let out a shuddering breath, only pulling away as Steve ducks into the room with a cup of water. 

“Here, drink this,” Steve murmurs quietly, handing you the cup. You take a few sips, the cool water calming you briefly. You observe the boys through red, puffy eyes. Why were they always so kind to you? You felt so much guilt having them looking after you like this when you had betrayed them. 

A fresh wave of tears hit you again, you hear Bucky sigh through his nose. It’s almost like he can hear your overthinking brain ticking away, making the situation worse. 

“Sharon’s okay, you’re okay. There is no need to worry.” He reassures you, reaching out. You shake your head, back away and sit down on the edge of his bed. 

“I fucked up,” You mumble from behind the cup. 

“No you didn’t. Natasha is just a psycho who gets into fights with everyone.” Steve says, sitting next to you. You just hand him the cup for him to place on the bedside table. You sit in silence, rubbing some of the tears from your cheeks as they continue to flow. 

“Not that.” You sigh. “In the bathroom with Sharon - fuck. She wouldn’t shut up about you two, about how she’s convinced you’re in love with me or some shit. I was trying to tell her it wasn’t like that but she wouldn’t listen! I was just so drunk, I am so drunk. I didn’t think about it before I said it, it just kinda slipped out.” You stumble over your words. You can’t even look them in the eye. The guilt, it’s eating you alive, piece by piece. 

“What slipped out?” Bucky asks, voice low and calm. You suppress a sob. Why was he so kind, so patient? Steve’s hand finds your knee, squeezing it gently to comfort you.

“She just wouldn’t shut up about it, so I told her it made no sense because you guys are gay. Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it, I didn’t mean to. And now I’m the one crying like this is all about me when I’ve completely fucked you two over-” Bucky chuckling cuts your rambling off. You stare at him in shock for a moment, why was he laughing? Had he slipped into shock? Gone entirely mad?

“That’s why you’re crying? Shit, darling.” Bucky says between soft laughter, even Steve is smiling to himself. 

“Wait. You’re not mad? I just outed you - how do you not hate me? You were mad when Loki threatened to out you and I actually did!” You cry. Bucky shakes his head, moving to kneel in front of where you sat on the bed. His hands smooth the fabric of your dress on your thighs, blue eyes staring up at you.

“Of course I don’t hate you, Siren. It was an honest mistake. We all say things we don’t mean when we’re drunk. Don’t we Steve?” He says, looking at the blond for backup. Steve just smiles, giving you a short hug. 

“Of course we’re not mad! Shit happens, you didn’t do it maliciously. Loki was going to do that to hurt us, we know that you would never hurt us like that, darling. Do you know how many times we’ve accidentally outed ourselves while drunk? That’s how Sam found out - we literally forgot and made out in front of him.” Steve explains, you giggle a bit at that which makes Bucky smile, some of the worry for you leaving his expression. 

“So you’re seriously not mad at me?” You ask. Steve tackles you to the bed with a hug while you make a small squealing noise. 

“We aren’t mad. Plus it’s Sharon, she would never tell anyone! She knew Scott was queer before he even knew himself, and she didn’t do anything bad. She probably would’ve found out sooner or later anyway.” Steve explains, you visibly relax into his arms. 

“I’m still sorry though-” You start, only to be met with Bucky groaning. 

“It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re drunk, shit happens. We forgive and forget, it’s all okay, Siren.” Bucky says, patting your knee in reassurance. You can’t help but feel like a weight is lifted from your shoulders. Even if you still feel guilty and terrible for what you did, the fact that they forgave you without a fuss… Maybe it was your drunk brain talking, or the blushing schoolgirl. You wanted to just reach out and kiss the both of them. 

“Fuck. I’m the drunk one that needs to be taken care of at this party, aren’t I?” You groan, Steve only laughs, letting go as you as he sits back up. You rub your face, still laying on your back on the bed. You needed to pull yourself together, god you were a mess. 

“It’s okay,” Steve chuckles at you as you pout. He looked so handsome, his hair all ruffled and messy from the party. 

“First I out you to Sharon, now you have to take care of me while I'm hysterical and drunk.” You grumble. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you're drunk.” Bucky says with a grin, you roll your eyes and bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying something you’d regret in the morning. “And for the record, we’re bisexual, not gay.” 

“Great,” You grumble, embarrassed. “Should we go update Sharon then?” You joke, the two of them snicker at that. 

“Might want to wait a bit if you value your teeth being in your mouth, Natasha is still lurking out in the hallway looking for another fight.” Steve says, a cheeky smile spreading across his face. 

“I think the question is, when isn’t Natasha looking for a fight?” Bucky mutters. 

All you can do is let out a horrified laugh. 

Chapter 10

[dontfeeltoohot]

Sicktember Day 2 - Homesick - Steddie (Sick Eddie) - Rockstar AU

This is the first time in his career that Eddie wants to go home during the middle of a tour. It’s not that he wants to stop, necessarily, but he misses Steve and Eggnog; their little black cat, so much it hurts. They’ve been married for seven months, making this the first tour since tying the knot. 

It’s not helping that he’s running a fever, hovering around 100 degrees. The musician’s been feeling kind of sluggish all day, but now, sitting in the airport with his sweatshirt hood up to obscure his face, Eddie thinks he might be close to throwing a toddler-like tantrum. He wants to go home. It’s December and snowing, causing delays to a lot of flights, including their own. 

Gareth, Jeff and Tim have been battling on Mario Kart with their handheld game systems, sitting against a wall near a large window. Chelsea, Zack and Jake are talking about logistics for being late to a venue and what they may need to do. 

Eddie’s sitting alone in an uncomfortable plastic seat, knees pulled up to his chest. His stomach feels disgusting and a headache is throbbing on the right side of his head. Everything feels too hot and too cold at once, his head feels swimmy and he feels far away, like he's being pulled from his body.

His phone starts buzzing in his jacket pocket, so he fumbles for it. Steve’s name pops up and he swipes the button to answer. 

“Hello?” 

The guitarist's voice sounds exhausted, even he himself can hear it. His words come out like molasses, slow and stuck together. 

“Hey Ed’s! Still stuck in the airport?” 

“Yeah, uh…flight’s delayed two hours.” 

“…are you okay? You sound rough.” 

“I uh, I don’t feel so great. Trying really hard not to just…be stupid about it. Kind of wish I was home,” his voice cracks on the last word and he winces. “Sorry.” 

“Shh, don’t be sorry. You must be feeling pretty bad,” sympathy and worry covers Steve’s words, making the older man’s chest aches. Fuck he wants his husband. He wants Steve, and Eggnog, and he wants to lay down with them and sleep off whatever bug he's caught.

“Yeah, I guess. Think I have a fever,” he shrugs, forgetting Steve can’t see him.

As he talks, a couple of people in their mid twenties walk up, grinning. Zack’s up instantly, ready to step in. Eddie looks up, frowning. 

“Hey guys, I’m uh, I’m on the phone, if you don’t mind.” He always feels like a jackass for telling people he can’t take photos or talk, but today he can’t be bothered, not when he feels like death warmed over. 

“Oh, sorry man. Honestly we didn’t see, we’ll leave you to it.” 

Deflating, grateful they’re cool enough to drop it, the long haired man talks with Steve until he starts feeling his eyes shut. 

“Steve, M’gonna try and take a nap,” he mumbles, coughing into his shoulder. “I love you and miss you so so much.” 

“Get some sleep baby. Hopefully you’ll board soon and then you can get to an actual hotel. Call me when you land. Love you too.” 

The second he hangs up, the fans are back. So much for being cool. Blinking, Eddie turns to look at them again before standing- might as well just take the damn photo and get it done with. He doesn’t feel like having a story of him being an asshole begin to circulate everywhere. He feels lightheaded once he’s upright, but he pushes the feeling away. 

“Sorry, we’re big fans, saw you last night! We just wanted to get a photo.” 

“Right, yeah. Do you want me to grab the other guys?” 

“Just you is fine, if that okay? They look kind of into whatever they’re playing.” 

Nodding, the guitarist calls Zack over to snap a photo, who looks more than a little annoyed. Eddie’s aware it’s not because he’s asking for the bodyguard to take it, it’s the fact the photo’s being taken at all. As they all get closer, Eddie grimaces. 

“Just a heads up, I’m kind of sick, so sorry if I spread my germs or whatever,” he says guiltily, putting an arm around one of the guys shoulders. 

They take a photo and Eddie signs one of the girls shirts that happens to be an old Corroded Coffin one. That’s pretty cool, he has to admit. When they leave, he sits back down, rubbing his face. Six more shows and he’s home. 

[shhhhyoursister]

enemies to lovers/band!au

okay yeah heres the final one, the big boy, the one im probably proudest of, i really really hope you guys like it!!

Matteo was lucky that the conductor liked him, because showing up 10 minutes late to the first rehearsal of the year was bad, even for him. Matteo wasn’t known to be the most responsible member of the band, and usually the only thing he could be counted on to do right every rehearsal was show up, and show up on time. He adjusted his grip on his baritone case as he sped down the hall of the music department, cursing as he checked the time on his phone again, and when he got to the door of the theater they rehearsed in, he cracked it open as quietly as he could.

“Ah, Matteo!” the conductor yelled from the stage, and Matteo flinched before stepping fully into the room, “You decided to show up! I was worried you quit after playing that really loud wrong note at the concert last semester.”

“Which one?” Matteo joked back, knowing that if it was any other professor he would have just apologized and rushed to put his instrument together. He was on a first name basis with Rick, who was probably the most laid back member of the music faculty. Some of the players on stage laughed at the exchange, and Matteo smiled as he popped his case open.

“Just hurry up, we do actually need a full band to rehearse,” Rick said, turning back to his stand with a chuckle, “and poor David looks like he’s going to explode if we don’t start soon.”

Matteo rolled his eyes. As if that would make him set his baritone up faster. He ignored the second wave of laughter that followed the conductor’s comment and grabbed the folder with his music, and made his way onto the stage. He took his seat next to the other baritones, in the third chair, and tried to ignore the glare he could feel coming from the clarinet section.

Matteo was a little upset that he had missed his favorite part of each rehearsal; before Rick got there, when people were still whispering to their stand partners, some quietly tuning their instruments or practicing difficult measures, some tapping their feet and counting out the beats. It felt more alive than when everyone was coming together to play one piece, and while Matteo loved the sound of a full band playing beautiful music, he really needed that calm before the storm. It reminded him that the music that he listened to came from people like him, who had to practice and tune and count and focus to produce the notes and phrases that seemed to flow so naturally.

He risked a glance over at David when Rick asked him to play a note so he could tune the band to it, and, like always, felt a little bit of a shiver run through him when he watched David take a deep breath before playing out a long, perfectly in-tune note. He knew it wasn’t only because of the sound of the clarinet, which Matteo secretly thought was the nicest sounding of all the wind instruments. Although David couldn’t stand him, and Matteo didn’t have too many kind feelings towards him either, it was hard to deny that first of all, David was an amazing musician, and second of all, much less importantly, he was really hot.

Matteo didn’t feel bad for thinking it. Every person in the band who was into men was into David. Matteo would hear girls whispering about him while they were setting up their flutes and oboes, and there was the one guy in the saxophone section who had been trying to get his number for a year. It was old news, but Matteo couldn’t help himself from staring at David when he had long measures of rests, and had to admit that David was the cause of his distraction during some rehearsals.

Rick finished tuning the band, and had them flip to the piece that Matteo was the least confident in. He looked up and took a breath with the whole band when the conductor brought his arms up, and dropped his eyes back to the notes a split second before the downbeat.

Inevitably, Matteo got to a part in the song where he had four measures of rest, and he leaned back in his chair a bit and stretched his neck out. He was counting on his fingers and tapping his foot to the tempo and managed to come back in at the right time, only for Rick to cut them off as he flipped aggressively through the papers on his stand.

“Where is the second page? Why do I only have half of the score here?” He asked angrily, and then huffed and said, “Okay, everyone take out the next piece. David, take over for me.”

Matteo rolled his eyes as Rick walked off the stage, and David took his place in front of the band. David always got the most cocky, smug look whenever he was asked to conduct, and some people rolled their eyes because they knew David was harsher, faster, and much less forgiving than Rick was.

“Okay guys, remember we tried to play this last semester, but some people couldn’t keep up,” his eyes flicked to Matteo, who just shrugged, and then smiled as the frown on David’s face deepened and he continued, “as long as everyone watches me, we’ll be able to get through it. Let’s start at the beginning.”

That won’t be too hard, Matteo thought to himself, and smiled before bringing his lips to the mouthpiece.

They got through the first half of the song with no issues, David going slower than usual to let people warm up to playing it again. Matteo knew that the only reason he hadn’t messed up yet was because his eyes were glued to his sheet music, but he saw that the tempo was changing in a few measures so he would have to look up. Once he did, he caught sight of the serious expression on David’s face, his eyes scanning over the band and darting down to the score in front of him, his arms waving and emphasizing different beats in a fluid and practiced way, keeping the tempo while cuing the other instruments to come in.

“Stop, stop! You were supposed to come in there, baritones, what happened? Are we playing too slow for you?”

Matteo (and everyone else) knew that when David was yelling at the baritones, he was really yelling at Matteo. His animosity was known amongst the other students in the band, so they weren’t surprised to hear a critique aimed at that section of the low brass. That was confirmed when Matteo looked up to see David glaring directly at him, his hand that wasn’t holding the baton clenched tightly around the stand.

They got through the rest of the song with no incidents, Matteo purposefully playing quieter to avoid making any loud mistakes. Rick came back just as David was berating them for speeding up at the end, and he clapped him on the shoulder before waving the missing pages of his score in the air.

“Thank you, David, for re-traumatizing your bandmates. Let’s go back to the first piece, and I promise I won’t yell as much as he did.”

The band laughed and David chuckled (at least he’s self aware, Matteo thought to himself) as he took his seat, with one final glance in Matteo’s direction. They could both see each other from where they were sitting, David being at the end of the second row and Matteo diagonal across from him in the back. He watched as David settled back into his seat and picked his clarinet up, his tongue flicking out to wet the reed, and when David’s eyes shifted back over to him he blushed and looked down at the floor. He scowled, angry that he got caught staring.

***

He struggled through the first week, playing confidently when he could and quieting down whenever he got lost until he could figure out where they were again. Sometimes he found himself so confused he would whisper out of the corner of his mouth, “Where are we?” to his stand partner, and she would roll her eyes before pointing out the correct measure.

The next week of rehearsals, Matteo started out on a much better foot. He was running early as opposed to late, and he hummed to himself as he strolled calmly down the hall leading to the theater. There was one measure of their newest song that he just couldn’t get right, and he flipped open his folder as he walked, knowing that the page with that measure would be at the front. He stopped paying attention to where he was walking, tapping out the beat of the notes on his hip, and just as he turned the corner into the room he crashed into someone leaving, and heard an annoyed, “Are you serious?”

He tensed when he recognized David’s voice, and looked up to see the exact glare he was expecting aimed directly at him. He almost missed the stack of papers that David had dropped, and only noticed when one sheet landed perfectly on top of his open folder.

“Sorry,” Matteo muttered, not knowing what else to say, “let me help.”

“No, I’ll do it,” David snapped back, the glare on his face darkening a little as he snatched the paper on top of Matteo’s folder and said, “I had them organized by section, and by part. You’d just fuck it up. Go set up.”

Matteo took a deep breath through his nose, tired of being torn down every single time David spoke to him, and he took another breath before glaring back and saying, “I wouldn’t fuck it up. I know how sheet music works.”

“Yeah, but if Rick wanted you doing any of this I’m sure he would have asked,” David scoffed, kneeling down so he could gather the papers together, “but he didn’t.”

Matteo bit his lip as felt something angry building in his stomach, and he knew it wasn’t professional or smart of him to do but he couldn’t help but bite back, “Look, we all know that you’re just using us to set yourself up for the future, and that’s fine, but it doesn’t give you the excuse to be a fucking asshole all the time.”

He stormed off before he could see David’s reaction, and set his baritone up with trembling fingers. He was already in his seat and tuned up by the time David stalked into the theater with all of the papers, and Matteo watched with a smug grin as David quietly apologized to Rick for being late before handing off the sheet music and taking his seat. He grabbed his clarinet, his fingers pressing down on the keys harder than was probably good for them, and shot Matteo one final, piercing glare before turning to his music. Matteo smiled to himself as the conductor got everyone’s attention.

***

Things got a little more tense after that.

Getting even more on the bad side of the most talented, and most respected (and most feared) musician in the band was not Matteo’s best idea, but he had no idea how to fix it, and didn’t even know if he cared enough to.

Matteo didn’t know exactly what he was going to do once he graduated, but assumed that he’d figure something out. Pit bands were always looking for fresh talent, so he assumed that he would join one of those and get some menial job on the side while he waited to see where his life would lead. He knew that David, on the other hand, had a plan, and it seemed like their interaction in the hallway led David to believe that Matteo was the one thing standing in his way.

Another week of rehearsals went by, Matteo trying his best not to mess up, and failing almost every session. He knew that his conductor was starting to get a little frustrated, and he didn’t know how to explain that his new bout of issues weren’t coming from a lack of understanding the music; it was just difficult to play when you could feel someone openly glaring at you anytime the first clarinets had rests in the music. He and David hadn’t spoken or interacted at all since the incident in the hallway. They had never really spoken before that, so it wasn’t too unusual, but that amount of glaring was new.

And after a day or two, Matteo started glaring back. He would only do it when David wasn’t looking at him, either focused on the music or counting or watching the conductor, and it felt like the smallest form of retaliation that Matteo was willing to participate in. He knew that he couldn’t talk back to Rick, and he was doing all he could to avoid having to actually speak with David, so the glaring was a good alternative.

It was also a bit of a problem, the glaring. Sometimes Matteo would get lost in his own anger, resulting in him getting lost in the music, and Rick would stop the band and tell the baritones to pay attention to the music, not their bandmates, and Matteo would whip his head back to his music, his cheeks red at being caught.

It came to a head during one rehearsal, the first rehearsal since the glaring had started where Rick had to step out of the room. He handed David his baton and walked off with a wave of his hand, and Matteo noticed David smirking in his direction as he took up the position in front of the band.

“Okay, we’re going to start at measure 46,” David said, his eyes yet again scanning over every member of the band, squinting a little as they passed over Matteo, “the low brass has really been struggling with this section, and I’m going to take it faster so we can see exactly who is having trouble.”

Matteo’s eyes widened as he looked over the part David was referencing, realizing quickly that it was the hardest set of measures for the baritone section out of all of their pieces. He looked up again, trying to look determined despite the nerves starting to make his fingers twitch on the valves of his baritone, and caught David smirking at him again. David raised the baton, and Matteo lifted his baritone to his mouth and tried to focus his eyes on the music.

He managed to play through the first few measures correctly, but his nerves got the best of him and he messed up in one of the worst ways you can mess up as a musician; playing during a full-band rest. He felt his entire body tense up as half the band turned to stare at him, and he knew that it was the perfect excuse for David to go off on him.

“I heard that in the baritones, don’t let me hear it again.” David said sternly, the tip of the baton pointing right at Matteo. He looked mad, but there was something slightly encouraging there too, like he was trying to give Matteo another chance.

Matteo was surprised but grateful that his mistake didn’t send David into a fit and really tried to take that second chance and run with it. They started playing again, and Matteo made it through that measure, and then managed to mess up on the next one. He held one note too long and then played a sharp instead of a flat, and David didn’t stop the band but his head flicked to Matteo and he gave him a look that made his fingers freeze, and it took him a measure to come back in because for some reason that look scared him more than the many critiques and looks he had gotten in the past. David looked furious, as if Matteo was messing up intentionally.

They played through the rest of the section, Matteo getting less tense the more measures he played right, and just as they reached the last measure Rick came back into the theater, the door creaking a little behind him, but enough that it distracted Matteo, who not only played the last note wrong, but he felt his face heat up at the monstrous honk that came out the bell of his instrument.

“Matteo!” David snapped, and his other hand grabbed the top half of the baton and quickly bent it, snapping that as well.

Most of the band  gasped, Matteo included. David seemed shocked himself, staring down at the fractured wood in his hands. Rick walked up to him and without saying a word, grabbed the two pieces, and turned to face the band with a stoic expression.

“I think I’ll call it for today, everyone. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, before dropping a hand onto David’s shoulder and looking up at Matteo and saying, “You two, in my office.”

Matteo gulped, and tried to ignore the look on David’s face as he got out of his seat and made his way over to his case. He put his baritone away slowly, watching as the rest of the band filtered out through the main doors, some shooting him sympathetic looks as they walked out. He might not have been the best member of the band, but he was nice enough that most people liked him enough, and probably felt bad knowing that he was about to get screamed at. He looked away when he saw David walk into Rick’s office hot on his heels, already saying something that would probably get Matteo in more trouble.

He made his way over to the office once he had all of his stuff together, and took a deep breath before knocking on the door and walking in. He entered and saw Rick sitting at his desk, looking annoyed, and David standing in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he had just finished ranting, his face red and his chest heaving, and he turned to fix Matteo with a glare as he walked into the room.

“I don’t know why two of my best musicians hate each other as much as you guys do,” he started, and Matteo’s eyes widened a bit at the bluntness of his statement along with the compliment, “but you need to work it out before next week.”

“Sir, I don’t know if I’d say he’s one of the best-” David started, his voice hiding the hint of a pretentious laugh, and before thinking about it Matteo cut him off.

“You don’t know shit about how I play.”

David turned to him with tight lips and said, “Well, I’ve conducted you before, so I think I have a pretty good idea.”

“Yeah, how could I forget being verbally abused.”

“It wasn’t abuse, if you aren’t going to play right I’m going to say something and I’m sorry if I don't sugarcoat it. I focus on being right, not on being nice.”

“Yeah, obviously.” Matteo muttered under his breath, and just as David turned to him to snap back at him, Rick clapped his hands together, loudly.

“Okay, I know what we’re going to do to fix this.”

***

That was how Matteo found himself the next day, an hour before band was supposed to start, during his only free period of the day, making his way to the music building so he could get to the practice rooms. He was walking slow, making sure to be on time but exactly on time, because he didn’t want to spend a second longer with David than he had to.

To their chagrin, Rick decided that the best way for the two to get along was for David to help Matteo figure out the parts of the music that he was struggling with. He had set up mandatory twice a week private sessions for both of them. Matteo had a feeling they wouldn’t make it past the first week without screaming at each other.

Matteo got to the door of the room he was meant to meet David in, and he could hear shuffling so he knew David was there already. He rolled his eyes and braced himself before pushing into the room.

“Put your instrument together,” David said, not even looking at Matteo as he set two chairs up in front of a stand, “ and get your music out. Let’s not be here any longer than we have to be.”

David finally turned around when Matteo didn’t move, and raised an eyebrow at him. Matteo had been expecting the hostility, and knew what he wanted to say in response.

“If we’re being forced to do this,” he said calmly, dropping his baritone case on the chair and popping it open, “I’m not going to let you be a dick to me. You need to be here just as much as I do. If you’re mean I’ll walk out, and then we’re both fucked. Don’t test me.”

He turned and started setting his baritone up, not waiting for David to react or respond to what he said. He only looked up at him once he sat in the chair and had his music on the stand, and he was surprised to see David look down at the ground, his face almost completely neutral except for the corners of his lips, which were twitching up a little.

“Fine,” David said, sitting down in the other chair, moving his leg quickly when his knee bumped into Matteo’s, “Play it right and I won’t be a dick.”

Matteo rolled his eyes but figured that was the best he was going to get, so he took a deep breath before bringing his mouthpiece up to his lips.

He played through the first few measures that David pointed at, trying to be as quick as he could while still following the tempo David was tapping out and playing the notes correctly. He knew that he had nowhere to hide if he messed up. Not that he really did during their bigger rehearsals, but he also felt much more confident playing by himself. He knew he wasn’t going to mess up the timing of anything, but he was worried about a set of measures near the end that had a beat that was so complicated he couldn’t figure it out.

He messed up right away when they got to it and he stopped, expecting David to make some harsh comment that would have him snapping back, but was surprised when his only reaction was, “Go back a few measures, try it again.”

He tried again and messed it up the same way, and then tried again, before putting his baritone down with a huff. He was frustrated at himself for messing it up, especially for messing it up in front of David, knowing that there was no way he wouldn’t say something sarcastic or rude after Matteo messed up for the third time.

“Why are you counting it like that?” David asked, his voice surprisingly devoid of any mocking or cruel tone. He sounded genuinely curious, but Matteo was still wary.

“I don’t know, because that’s how it looks?” He answered quickly, rolling his eyes, shifting uncomfortably under his horn.

“If I’m promising not to be a dick, you need to promise to take this seriously,” David said, turning to look directly at Matteo for the first time since the lesson had started, “I know you don’t really care about all this, but I do, so if that means teaching you how to fucking count I’ll do it. Now, play it again, but right.”

“Who says I don’t care?” Matteo asked, keeping his baritone firmly in his lap, “And I know how to count. That measure just makes no fucking sense.”

“Yes it does, you just aren’t counting it right,” David said, his voice tight, and he took a breath before saying more calmly, “here, give me your horn, I’ll show you.”

Matteo hesitated before handing it over, and he sighed a little in relief when David took Matteo’s mouthpiece off and took another one out of his bag.

Matteo was always impressed at the sound that David was able to pull out of any instrument he touched. There were multiple times where their conductor would ask David to grab an extra trumpet or sax or flute or set of mallets for a marimba, and would shove him wherever the band needed extra help. The only reason he never sent him to sit with Matteo’s section was because they didn’t have any extra horns, and Matteo was beyond grateful for that.

David pointed at the measure, and said, “See, you’re playing this,” he played out the beat that Matteo had been playing and then stopped and said, “but that amount of notes doesn’t fit in the measure, you’re adding an extra one in the middle. It’s supposed to sound like this,” he raised the baritone to his lips again and played out the measure, tapping his foot loudly as he continued playing so Matteo could hear how that measure fit into the rest of the phrase.

He gave Matteo the horn back after switching the mouthpieces again, and Matteo hesitated before starting to play again, and when he got to the measure and played it the way David showed him, it flowed perfectly into the next one and he even saw David smile a little.

“Yeah, you got it that time,” David said, and Matteo smiled back at him before turning back to his music as David said, “now let’s fix this other part.”

***

After a couple of weeks of the private sessions, Matteo was starting to sense a pattern. They would be completely civil during their one-on-one sessions, David only critiquing when necessary and only with comments that were actually helpful, and then they would get to band and it would start all over again. Matteo would get lost, Rick would snap at his section, he would look over and see David glaring at him or shaking his head in disappointment.

He didn’t know why it was getting to him in a way that it hadn’t before. He always knew that David was a little tougher on him than others, but he had really been hoping that the private sessions would stop the glares and the looks and the scoffs whenever he messed up. If anything, the private sessions only made the actual rehearsals worse.

The second boiling point was reached their third week of the private sessions. Matteo had sat through his perfectly cordial hour with David before band, and was even looking forward to playing that day. He felt like he had finally nailed the set of measures that he and David had been working on so he was excited for Rick to hear him play it right. He was so giddy about it that he even smiled when he caught David looking at him from across the band. David had raised a confused eyebrow at him before shifting his gaze back to the front of the band, and Matteo blushed and looked down at the ground, feeling a little silly.

Again, after a little while the conductor had to step away, and again David took his place at the stand, and picked up the baton. He looked right at Matteo as he told the band that they were going to start a few measures before the one Matteo had been messing up, and he sat up a little straighter and returned the look, nodding when David finished speaking. David nodded the slightest bit back at him before raising his arms, and Matteo breathed with the rest of the band before bringing his mouthpiece up to his lips.

And it was like nothing had changed. Matteo found himself getting lost watching David’s waving his arms in all directions, wild but completely in control of himself and the band. He missed one note and David’s eyes flicked to him, and held there as Matteo panicked and stumbled his way through the measure that he had spent two weeks of private lessons fixing.

He saw David’s jaw clench and he cut the band off with a sharp wave of his hand, before turning his full body in Matteo’s direction to say, “So the last few weeks have been a total waste of my time?”

Matteo didn’t think before standing up and walking off the stage, and out of the theater. He ignored the whispers and looks that followed him out, didn’t think about when he was going to be able to go back and get his case and bag and music, and he walked to the hallway of practice rooms and entered one, slamming the door behind him.

***

He emailed Rick and got permission to skip rehearsal the next day, the conductor ending the email with We really need to figure this out before your issues with David end up hurting the rest of the band. Matteo had read the response and collapsed back into bed, glaring over at his baritone (in the case, his roommate and friends brought his stuff out for him after he left).

It was also the first night of the first concert in the music department. Matteo wasn’t performing but he was required to go, and as he got himself ready in his appropriate concert attire, he worried over the fact that David was going to be there, to perform and to watch. Matteo couldn’t think of something he’d like to do less than watch the dude who embarrassed him in front of their entire band perform and get endless praise for it.

Matteo sat quietly next to his friends throughout the concert, and when David walked onto the stage, he felt himself tense up. His best friend Jonas, a trumpet player who was more than aware of the situation in and out of rehearsal, put a hand on his leg and squeezed, trying to offer a bit of comfort. Matteo smiled tightly at him as David lifted his clarinet to his lips and took a deep breath.

No matter how much Matteo hated him, he couldn’t ignore the fact that David was the best clarinet player he had ever heard. It was like his body and his clarinet were formed together, the way he breathed sound through it and moved around it, how quickly he could run his fingers over the keys and play the most complicated string of notes without a single flaw. Matteo found himself entranced by the song David played, and he opened his eyes when the last note faded out into the otherwise silent theater, and he watched as David kept his clarinet up for a beat after the song finished before his eyes opened, and they looked directly into Matteo’s as the audience clapped around him.

He looked away as quickly as he could, ignoring the face Jonas made at his sudden movement, and tried to focus his attention completely on the girl who stepped up next with her violin. He only let his eyes flick to David once more before the concert was over, and while his view was obscured because David was sitting a few rows ahead of him, Matteo could see his fingers twitching in his lap, probably resisting the urge to make the player follow his lead. The concert was over after that last girl, and Matteo turned to his friends quickly to stop himself from staring in David’s direction again.

Coincidentally, (or not at all) the night of the first concert in the music department was also the night of the first party being held by some people in the percussion section, a couple of guys who had a big house that was perfect for hosting a bunch of drunk but mild-mannered music majors.

Matteo had barely even wanted to go, knowing that his reputation amongst the rest of the band was not a great one. He wasn’t hated, but most only knew of him because of the amount of times per rehearsal the conductor would have to stop and critique the baritones (him) or tell the baritones (him) what measure they were on, and now because of all the new drama with David. He also didn’t want to face his bandmates after walking out during the last rehearsal, but the pushing and prodding of his friends made him reluctantly agree.

“Dude, we’re gonna get you so fucked up you can’t even think about what an asshole Schreibner is,” Carlos said as they made their way to the house.

Matteo snorted as they turned onto the correct block, and they quickly spotted the house that was holding the party. There were lights and music loud enough that they could hear it down the street, and Carlos and Abdi started whooping before running over to it.

“You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to,” Jonas said when Matteo hesitated near the front door.

Matteo waited another second before shoving into the house, and throwing back over his shoulder, “Who cares about that asshole, I want to drink!”

And drink he did. Matteo was on his third beer after only twenty minutes, and he was considering it a win that he hadn’t seen David yet. He could feel himself getting more drunk, and didn’t know what he would even say to David if he saw him. He was glad that the little corner of the room he and his friends had grabbed seemed to be pretty hidden away.

Matteo was handed a joint after a little while and he grabbed it quickly, sticking the end in his mouth and taking a deep hit. He closed his eyes as he blew the smoke out his nose, and took another hit as he opened his eyes slowly, and saw David walk into the room. He didn’t seem to notice Matteo though, seemingly focused on getting to someone that was standing in the opposite corner.

“I didn’t know that David and Leonie are friends,” Carlos said quietly, staring over at the two, “she’s in the orchestra with Kiki. I heard she’s just like David but worse.”

“Matteo would love her, then,” Jonas said, ruffling his hair, and he flipped him off before taking another hit and passing the joint along.

“Why are talented and attractive people such assholes,” Matteo said, and when the three other boys turned to him, their eyes wide, he asked, “what?”

“Did you just say something nice about David?” Abdi asked with a grin, and Matteo rolled his eyes as the boys all oooohed.

“Me saying he’s attractive and talented isn’t nice, especially when that was the lead up to me calling him an asshole,” Matteo said, grabbing the joint when it was handed back to him, “I don’t have a single nice thing to say about David. He can play good, but he’s a piece of shit and nobody is going to hire someone with his kind of attitude. He thinks just ‘cause he can play and wave his arms around in the air that he’s going to become a famous musician and conductor, but he needs to work on being a decent fucking person first.”

His rant wasn’t the most coherent, but it felt good to get off his chest, and he leaned back against the wall and took a hit to emphasize his point. The boys were quiet, and when Matteo raised an eyebrow at Jonas, he tilted his head to the front of the group where David was standing, scowling at him.

“We need to fucking talk.” David growled out through his teeth, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, looking like he was going to vibrate out of his skin with the amount of tension in his body.

Matteo said nothing but handed the joint off, and followed after David when he turned and walked out of the room. He was done. At that point he didn’t give a fuck if he got kicked from the program, or if he was fucking kicked out of the school, because he and David needed to settle whatever their issue was then and there.

David led him down the hall and he knocked loudly on a door before shoving it open, and grabbed Matteo’s wrist to pull him inside. Matteo noticed it was a bathroom, and quickly glanced around to see if anybody was watching them. He wondered what they thought was happening. Someone in the band would probably recognize the stiff way David was holding his body, and see Matteo trailing almost lazily behind him, and know that something was about to go down. But someone else might just see two boys going into a bathroom together at a party, and come to a completely different conclusion. Matteo almost laughed at the thought. Yeah, he was gay, but he didn’t know if David was. He didn’t know if David even had the time or patience to date or hook up with anyone.

He could tell that his apparent apathy towards the situation was just pissing David off further, so he closed the door slowly, not even locking it before leaning back against it with a bored sigh. He definitely wasn’t actually as calm as he looked; he crossed his arms across his chest so the shaking in his hands would be less obvious, and it was taking a lot of effort to keep his face neutral when he saw how angry David was. He didn’t think David was going to hurt him or anything, but he was terrified about what the fight could lead to when it came to his position in the band.

“I don’t know what your fucking problem is, Matteo, but I don’t have any kind of attitude. I care about what I do and I want it to be done right. It’s not my fault that you don’t care enough to actually try, but it is really fucking with my experience here,” David said quietly, his voice a little too calm for his red face and clenched fists, “I can’t conduct a band when I need to stop every five seconds because you lose your place.”

Matteo snorted, and leaned his head back against the door. It was taking him a minute to figure out what he wanted to say and he was surprised that David was quiet, like he was giving Matteo the time to think.

“David,” Matteo said, after figuring out what was probably the dumbest part of the whole issue, “you’re good enough to be hired anywhere. Me being a shitty band member won’t stop you,” he paused for a moment, and then picked his head up and said, “And I do try. I’m good. The only reason I’m still here is because they know I’m good. I just don’t need to prove it like you do.”

He was glad that his mind was clear enough to get his exact point across, and he watched David as his words sunk in, realizing that David had probably drank too, considering the way he was leaning back on the counter, his legs a little unsteady. David stared at Matteo for a minute before standing up straighter.

“I don’t need to prove anything,” he said, “I know I’m good.”

“Then why are you such a dick?” Matteo asked, “Like, specifically to me? Yeah, you yell at everyone but you’re just mean to me. Are you homophobic or something?”

Matteo couldn’t stop the thought from drifting through his mind and out his drunk mouth. Maybe David was, and there was going to be no way to solve the issue. What the fuck would he tell Rick?

“What? No, I’m not homophobic,” David said, looking like he wanted to laugh at the idea but was too confused to, “I’m trans.”

“Trans people can be homophobic.” Matteo said, shrugging, knowing that it was a stupid point to make. He was honestly just happy for a break in the tension.

David actually laughed, before tilting his head and smirking at Matteo and saying, “Trust me, I’m not. That would be kinda weird considering I’m also not straight.”

The way he said it made something hot bloom in Matteo’s stomach, and he hated his stupid, gay brain for reacting. That statement combined with the look on David’s face, and the fact that despite their stupid rivalry David was still really fucking hot, was making Matteo lose sight of the original conversation a little.

“You’re hot.” He said, verbalizing his thoughts before he could stop himself, and then he clamped his mouth shut and bit his lip, half terrified that David was going to get angrier, and half glad that he was just getting everything off his chest thanks to the alcohol in his system.

David fell back against the counter, the smirk dropping from his face, and he blinked before stammering out, “Uh. What?”

“I think you heard me,” Matteo said, shrugging, and then he looked off to the side before looking back at David’s confused face and saying again, “you’re hot.”

“Why- what does that have to do with any of this?” David asked, and Matteo couldn’t tell if he was angrier but he sounded different, in a way that made him stand up against the door a little.

He just shrugged again, and then stared at David as he tried to work through whatever was going on in his head. Matteo watched as he stood still for a minute, his fists loosening and tightening at his sides, and he watched as David’s eyes scanned up and down his body with the same focus they would scan the band with, and he watched as David pushed himself off the sink, took a few confident steps forward, and shoved Matteo against the door and pressed their lips together.

Matteo’s eyes widened and then slid closed as he felt David’s hands clutching tight onto his hips, and he grabbed at David’s arms and just as he started moving his lips David pulled away roughly, and was back against the sink in a second.

“That was a bad idea,” David said, holding onto the edge of the sink, avoiding Matteo’s eyes by looking off to the side, “we’re both drunk, we’re fighting, we can’t do that.”

“We don’t have to fight,” Matteo said, knowing that it probably was a bad idea but stepping forward anyway, until he was close enough to see just how tight David was anchoring himself to the sink, “you can tell me to fuck off and I will. Or,” he said, taking another step closer until his foot was kicking against David’s and he could reach out and grab his wrist, “I can stay.”

David only looked back at him when he felt the tug on his arm, and he looked down at Matteo’s hand before looking him in the eyes. Matteo took a risk and slid his hand down, grabbing David’s, and was shocked when David used that grip to pull him in for another kiss, backing him up until his back was smacking into the door again. He got an arm around David’s neck before he was pulling away,  again, and Matteo sighed as David rubbed a hand over his face and said, “Fuck, no, this is such a bad idea.”

“Maybe,” Matteo said, rolling his shoulders as he asked, “can you just make up your mind? This is hurting my back.”

David looked at Matteo again, looked him up and down the same way that he had earlier that night, and something seemed to click. He tilted his head again, his eyes filled with a sudden new brightness as he stepped forward, placing his hands on the door on either side of Matteo’s hips, boxing him in.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” he said, and Matteo raised an eyebrow, amused, before he continued, “whatever happens tonight happens, and then we don’t talk about it, and it never happens again. Deal?”

Matteo thought it over for a minute, more trying to get one last little jab at David by making him wait for an answer, and once he saw David’s face go from confident to bordering on annoyed, he grinned and stuck out his hand, and said, “Deal.”

David ignored his hand but grabbed his ass and pulled him in close, his hands dragging up to Matteo’s waist as their mouths met again, and Matteo slid a hand into David’s hair and let himself melt against the door.

***

Matteo woke up the next morning with a dry mouth and a bad headache, both of which he attributed to the hangover he almost definitely had. He couldn’t even remember drinking that much, but the pain behind his eyes was more than just him being tired like usual. He got himself out of bed, just wanting to drink some water and get into a hot shower to wash away the sweat and alcohol from the party.

He got into the bathroom and turned the shower on, tugging his shirt over his head as he yawned and rubbed at his eyes. He blinked at himself in the mirror, taking in the pale face, the fucked up hair, the red eyes, the bruise on his neck, the-

Matteo jolted forward and slapped his hand over the mark on his neck, before moving it so he could gawk at the dark purple and red. Seeing it brought back a rush of memories from the night before, memories that Matteo couldn’t believe he had forgotten, and he stared at himself with wide eyes and let out a quiet, “Fuck.”

***

Matteo debated whether or not he should skip the next band rehearsal. He knew that realisitcally he couldn’t, and that skipping because of a hickey was so dumb that he shouldn’t have even been considering it. He just didn’t want to face his friends and have them ask questions, and even more than that he didn’t want to see David.

He figured that David wasn’t planning on showing up for their usual private session, so he got to band with just enough time to still be considered early, and he found a quiet corner of the theater to set his baritone up in, a row of seats off to the side. He smiled when he saw Jonas come in, but it fell quickly when he saw Jonas notice the hickey on his neck, and the pure joy and confusion that came over his face.

“Dude!” Jonas exclaimed, staring obviously at the mark, “Who gave you that?”

“Someone from the orchestra, I barely remember his name.” Matteo said as casually as he could, having thought of the lie on his way to band. Jonas nodded with a grin and held out his fist, and Matteo rolled his eyes and bumped his against it, grateful that the idea of him and David hooking up was so unbelievable that it wouldn’t even enter Jonas’ mind.

“And what happened with Schreibner?” Jonas was bouncing on his toes, excited for the news and probably expecting a story.

Matteo snorted and rolled his eyes again, before turning back to his half-assembled baritone, and shrugged and said, “We worked it out.”

Fucked it out is more like it, Matteo thought to himself, and he shook his head to rid it of that kind of thinking.

Matteo got settled in his seat, listening to the cacophony around him, and then finally let himself glance around the room to see where David was. He was surprised when he didn’t find him, unable to think of any other time where David showed up late (besides that one time with the sheet music), but the doors suddenly burst open and the conductor walked in, David hot on his heels as always, whispering as they finished up what looked to be an intense conversation.

“Sorry we’re late, we got caught up discussing the sequence of songs for the concert, but I’m glad to see you’re all ready to go.” Rick said as he grabbed his baton, and he waited for David to sit in his usual seat in the clarinet section before counting them into their first song.

Matteo spent the entire rehearsal trying his hardest to not stare at David while doing exactly that, but he was lucky that David never returned his gaze. He seemed to be actively avoiding looking in Matteo’s direction, which made sense considering the deal they had made, but he was still a little let down that David didn’t even look at him. He even found himself disappointed when David didn’t end up conducting that day, and got up and went over to his case once they were dismissed.

He was glaring at his bottle of valve oil, realizing that he was low and was going to need to go get more, when a shadow fell over him. He looked up with a smile, assuming it would be Jonas, but it dropped when he saw David standing there. He had his jacket on, his clarinet case clutched tightly in his hand, and his backpack on his back, and he was staring down at Matteo with something between apathy and irritation on his face.

“Where were you earlier?”

Matteo raised an eyebrow. He tossed the valve oil back in his case before snapping it shut, and stood up and gathered all of his things before turning to face David again and shrugging, letting his eyes drift to the side as he said, “I figured I’d give things a day to chill after...you know.”

“After what?” David asked, with a tilt of his head, and more pointed, forced confusion on his face than Matteo had ever seen. Oh, so that was how it was gonna be.

Matteo smiled back tightly. “You know what, never mind. I’ll be there next time.”

There was a moment where David’s eyes darted down to Matteo’s neck and back up just as quick. His cheeks got a little pink. Matteo smirked.

“Good.” David said simply, and then turned and left. Matteo stared after him, and smirked when he saw David turn again to look at him one more time before almost jogging out of the theater.

Matteo heard a snort from behind him, and he whipped his head around to see Jonas standing there.

“Fuckin’ dick,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of the door, “what was he yelling about this time?”

“Nothing important.” Matteo said, shrugging again, readjusting his grip on his baritone case as they started walking towards the door.

“Is it ever with him?” Jonas joked, elbowing Matteo in the arm, and they both laughed as they left the theater, Jonas waving a goodbye to the people who called out to him. Nobody said anything to Matteo, and he sighed as they made their way down the hall.

“Who knows, man,” Jonas started after a second, pausing and then turning to Matteo with a grin, jabbing him again, “maybe Schreibner is just secretly gay and super jealous of whoever gave you that hickey.”

Matteo snorted, before laughing out loud as they got outside. He shook his head and chuckled when Jonas shot him a confused look.

“I don’t think that’s it.”

*****

The next day that Matteo was meant to meet David, he woke up, and the anxious and dark feeling that settled over him immediately made him want to turn over and go back to sleep. It didn’t have anything to do with David, Matteo knew that, had a diagnosis that proved that, but he couldn’t help the dread that filled him at the thought of sitting in a practice room getting scolded over and over again by the same guy who had given him a hickey the week before.

He lit a joint as he left his place. There were tons of off-campus apartments around his school, and he had managed to get a place with Jonas. It was small, but they had all the rooms they needed, and a balcony attached to Matteo’s room for him to smoke on. It was perfect.

Smoking that day was a bad choice, though. He had gone to band high before, and knew that his fingers would be slower and he wouldn’t be able to focus, but it wouldn’t be any different with the fog filling his head. The only difference was that at least he would be out of it enough to not be bothered by the criticizing.

But by the time he got there, he had almost forgotten that before he had band, he had to see David. He knew it would be obvious he was high, and was preparing himself for whatever David would have to say about it. He was also a little late because he needed to take a minute outside of the building to breath and calm himself down. The weed had done the job of dulling everything coming in, but the anxiety twisting up inside of his gut was still pretty active. He took another shaky breath before pushing into the practice room.

“You’re late.” David said sternly, turning in the seat to glare at Matteo as he shuffled in. Matteo barely acknowledged that he had spoken besides a half shrug until he was settled in his chair, with his baritone set up.

“Bad morning,” he said in a quiet voice, before putting his music on the stand and saying, “let’s just start.”

David went easy on him at first, starting off with one of their simpler songs just to make sure Matteo understood one set of measures that the entire band had been messing up. It didn’t require much complex counting or a lot of movement, so Matteo was playing fine. It was a little further into the session when David switched to a different song, one that Matteo could play most days, but not with his fuzzy brain and fingers that started to shake when David pointed at the measure he wanted Matteo to start with,

He barely got through the first measure before David was cutting him off and telling him to start over, and then stopping him again to count out the beats, and then finally stopping him again when Matteo was playing at a tempo so wrong that he didn’t even know what he was doing.

“Okay, stop, stop,” David said, and he flopped back in his chair with a huff, “what the fuck is going on today?”

“Nothing,” Matteo muttered, leaning back in his chair as well, but crossing his arms over his chest, “I told you, bad morning.”

David turned to stare at him, actually looking at him for the first time he had come in, and Matteo saw understanding dawn on his face before a glare took its place.

“Oh, I get it,” David said, shifting back in his chair, “you’re really trying to get kicked out, aren’t you?”

“No, what the fuck?” Matteo said, shaking his head at the idea.

“So you thought coming in stoned was a good way to keep your spot?”

Matteo froze, before asking quietly, “Are you going to narc?”

David rolled his eyes and snorted, and opened his mouth, before closing it again and leaning back more in his chair. He squinted at Matteo for a second, and then asked, “Why did you do it?”

“What?” Matteo asked, running a hand through his hair, his eyes darting to the side because he hadn’t even thought about what could happen if David told anyone that he had showed up high.

“Get high, before coming here? If you aren’t trying to get kicked out? Did you think it was a good idea?” David seemed almost amused by the conversation.

“None of your fucking business.”

“I kind of think it is, though, if you’re going to be showing up here, at a time that I only agreed to meet at because you need help-”

“Shut the fuck up, you have to be here just as much as I do, in case you forgot,” Matteo snapped, feeling himself losing a bit of the control that he was usually very careful to hold onto, “and if you really need to know, my brain is pretty fucked up and coming here and getting yelled at by you doesn’t help. Shockingly, it makes it worse. So if you’re going to run off and tell the department that I’m high, make sure they know it’s because you’re so unbearable to work with that it’s the only way I can get through it.”

David stared at him, and swallowed, his face unreadable. Matteo took a deep breath and looked down at the ground, his pulse pounding in his ears. He pressed his fingers down on the valves of his baritone as he tried to get his breathing back under control after losing his temper, and with the new panic that was filling him. He was done for. There was no way David would let him get away with all of that, and Matteo knew that the department would not be happy to hear that he showed up to a rehearsal high before screaming at everyone’s favorite.

“Okay,” David said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

Matteo’s head whipped to him. “What?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m pissed that you’re high right now,” David said, but his voice was still soft, and he was looking at Matteo with the closest thing to sympathy on his face that Matteo had seen from him, “but brains can suck. And I get that I can be...blunt.”

Matteo snorted. “Blunt, sure.”

“So here’s what we’re gonna do,” David said, and he took his phone out of his pocket and started typing, “have you ever listened to the songs that we’re playing?”

“Well, he played new pieces for us in the beginning of the semester. And I hear them when we play.” Matteo said with a shrug. He had never really been the type to listen to band music. He loved it, and loved playing it, but it already took up so much of his time. When he was listening to music on his own he usually chose stuff that he couldn’t tell you the time signature of.

“Yeah, but sitting in a section of a band and listening to the people around you is really different from hearing it like the audience does,” David said, barely looking up, “we still have some time before rehearsal, so let’s just listen to the songs until it’s time to go. I’ll point out some parts that you’re struggling with so you can hear how you fit into everything else.”

“Oh. Okay. That sounds good.” Matteo said, staring at David in shock as he kept tapping on his phone. After a few seconds, Matteo could hear the run that starts the first song in their program. David raised the volume and set his phone on the stand, and then leaned back in his chair, the corners of his lips turning up as the clarinet came in, playing the solo that David played every class.

“That person played it better,” Matteo said under his breath, a little uncomfortable with how suddenly accommodating David was being. He was sure light teasing was still safe. He smirked at the eyebrow David raised.

They listened to the next couple of songs, David pausing every now and then to point things out or tell Matteo to listen to the part coming up next. Matteo could see his hands twitching on his lap, tapping along to the beat, and sometimes, seemingly without even noticing, his hand would come up and with just a finger he would conduct to the room. Matteo watched until it seemed like David wasn’t paying attention to him anymore, and he leaned back in his own chair, and closed his eyes.

He was still listening, and he continued tapping his foot to the beat of every song that played. As the last note of the last piece played out in the room, Matteo let out the breath he had taken in and held during the final crescendo. He didn’t realize until then that he hadn’t even put away his baritone, the horn just resting in his lap, his hands moving across the brass and pressing down on the valves of their own accord.

“We should probably head out,” Matteo heard, and he opened his eyes slowly, not expecting to meet David’s as quickly as he did. David was staring at him with another unreadable expression, biting his lips as his eyes darted around Matteo’s face, down to his lips, before he bit his own and jumped up from his chair with a, “yeah, we need to be there in ten. Let’s pack up.”

*****

[insert blah blah whatever but then the conductor is like haha later this week im gonna be gone and david is gonna conduct all of you the whole time and matteo is like “lol k” but it actually ends up being fine?? And matteo plays better and david doesnt have to say anything to him and near the end he actually SMILES at him and matteo is like okay oaky….this is kinda nice i like not fighting with this dude also hes STILL SO FUCKING CUTE]

[flash forward to a couple weeks later they're still kinda getting along like they are still constantly teasing and bantering and arguing but its like,, nice and funny and ,maybe flirty??????]

“Why can’t we talk about it?” Matteo asked, finally, snapping his case shut and turning to stare at David’s suddenly stiff back. He heard David’s case zip up after a second, before he turned around, a tight smile on his face.

“Talk about what?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that made it obvious he wasn’t pleased.

“Stop acting like it’s fucking crazy that two people who don’t like each other got drunk at a party and hooked up,” Matteo said, rolling his eyes at David’s carefully controlled expression, “just because you’re so busy and important doesn’t mean you have to be boring.”

“I’m not boring,” David hissed, but he flopped back down in his seat and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling before saying, “I don’t want other people in the band finding out. I have a reputation with them, and I know that...I know this would make things weird.”

“If anything they’ll be jealous of me,” Matteo said with a laugh, “as if you don’t know how many of them eye fuck you while you’re conducting.”

“I’m not...oblivious,” David huffed, and Matteo smirked when he saw his cheeks get red as he looked down at the ground, “and that’s not it.”

Matteo tilted his head, trying to figure out what David meant as he looked up from the ground but off to the side, chewing on his lip. Somewhere in the back of his head a thought started brewing, and once he thought it it was impossible not to clear his throat, and take a breath before asking, “Is it because you think I’m bad? Like, a bad player? Do you not want them knowing you hooked up with me?”

“What? Matteo, no,” David looked at him sincerely for the first time since Matteo had started the conversation, and he reached a hand out, and Matteo jumped when it wrapped gently around his wrist, “I don’t think you’re a bad player, and that...that isn’t the problem. You aren’t the problem with this.”

“Then what is?” Matteo asked, exasperated even though he was the one to ask.

“It’s them,” David said, gesturing vaguely out but Matteo could guess he meant their bandmates, “I love them, but do you know how hard it would be to lead a group of people, including lots of people who have hit on me, if they knew I hooked up with the one member of the band that I-”

“That you what?” Matteo asked too quick, excited to hear the answer.

“That they have seen me get angry in the past- perhaps angrier than necessary.” David said calculating and slow, like admitting it hurt him somewhere deep. Matteo kind of hoped it did. After smiling to himself at that he refocused on the point of the conversation.

“Do you really think I’m planning on telling any of them?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief, “The only other people I talk to besides you are Carlos, Abdi, and Jonas, and I’m not telling them about any of it because I don’t want them giving me shit for any of it.”

“Why do you even want to talk about this?” David asked, looking up and fixing Matteo with a hard stare, “It happened a while ago, and it’s not like we had some romantic fucking moment of reconiliation. We got drunk, we argued, we hooked up, and now we can move on.”

“Well,” Matteo said, licking his lips and shrugging before looking up at David again, knowing that he didn’t really have a reason besides, “I had fun.”

David opened his mouth, and then closed it again, and then opened it again and just went, “Okay?”

“Didn’t you?” Matteo asked, trying for confidence, but coming off as a little desperate with the way he twisted in his seat to make sure he would catch David’s answer.

“I mean…” David started, his cheeks getting darker as his eyes darted around the room, then down to Matteo’s lips and up to his eyes again as he said, “yeah. I did.”

“Yeah, so,” Matteo said, shrugging again, “what’s the big deal if we acknowledge it? It happened, and now we-” he cut himself off, before taking a deep breath and continuing, “and now we see what happens next.”

David’s eyes popped open. Matteo shrugged again before standing and picking his case up, and his bag, and taking a couple of steps to the door. He turned when he heard silence behind him, and saw David frozen in his seat, still staring at him. He stared back for a moment before gesturing out the door and asking, “Are you coming?”

David blinked and nodded, before getting up and gathering his things as well, and he followed Matteo out the door, and they made the short trek to rehearsal.

Matteo felt different sitting down next to his bandmates that day. He was still full of adrenaline, but felt ready to play, quietly humming one of their songs to himself as his fingers pressed down on the associated valves. He couldn’t stop his gaze from flicking to David every few minutes, and he caught David looking back just as Rick walked onto the stage. David coughed and looked away, and Matteo smiled to himself before leaning back in his seat.

He could feel David’s eyes on him throughout the rehearsal, and he was surprised, but it encouraged him to keep sneaking peeks as well. His eyes would wander up from the page even when he was playing just to catch a glimpse of David in his seat, sitting up straight, his strong arms and shoulders holding the clarinet up, his lips wrapped around the mouthpiece-

Matteo was glad he had a lot of rests.

“David! You were supposed to come in there!” Rick yelled suddenly, smacking the score in front of him with his baton, “You’ve never missed that cue before, what’s got you so distracted today?”

The band was silent and they watched David blush as he said, “Sorry, Rick, I’ll focus better. Won’t happen again.”

The conductor just shook his head before telling them to start the piece over, which was followed by angry grumbles and the sound of papers flipping. David looked down at the ground, his cheeks an angry red, and Matteo bit back the smile that threatened to grow on his face.

[david cancels their next private lesson and matteo is like what why and then he gets to band that day and david is conducting again and he basically ignore matteo the entire time and matteo is a lil mad and then after matteo goes up to him and is like “hey wtf why did you cancel on me and then not even correct me when i messed up” and david is like “fuck cause youre super fucknig distracting now and i cant spend an hour alone with you and then get up in front of a group of people and conduct like an idiot cause im too busy thinking about YOU” but hes likes embarassed and actually mad about it and matteo is like oh my god are we going back to the anger i thought we were passed that and davids like well i guess not and matteos like lmao do we need to hook up again cause that seemed like it worked pretty well last time and david is like,, so fucking pissed but is more pissed that hes kind of into that idea so he locks the practice room door and basically they hook up in the practice room because wow what a fantasy that is]

[things are like….weird but chill for a while after that. It seemed like being able to hook up with matteo again made david less distracted by him in a destructive way and even put a bit of a pep in his step?? And matteo notices that hes being a bit nicer to everyone, not just him, and hes actually smiling and complimenting matteo during their private sessions, and even though nothing is explicitly referenced they both know something's going on. Neither of them would call the other a friend though]

[this is after they hook up the third time, which is the first time that isnt completely out of anger but they arent really friends They just happened to run into each other after a concert and were both being a bit flirty and matteo was very boldly like “hey uh come back to my place” because he thinks and david actually does]

“Tell me something about you,” Matteo said, turning his head and propping it up on his arms so he could see David. The light was low in the room, and the plant near his lamp was casting strange shadows on the walls, and on David himself, leaned back against the wall like he was.

“Uh,” David started, his eyes dancing around the room as he tried to think of something, “I started playing the clarinet when I was-”

Matteo reached out and pinched his leg. David twitched, and raised an eyebrow at him. Matteo hoped that David was okay with the fact that he just kept touching him. It was hard to keep his hands away, and he didn’t know David’s comfort level with non-sexual physical contact. So far he seemed more amused than anything else.

“Tell me something not related to music.” Matteo said, and David snorted at the request.

“Why?” He asked, reaching down to push Matteo’s hair out of his eyes. He bit his lip, wishing that David kept his hand on him longer.

“I just think, you know,” Matteo said, hoping he wasn’t pushing it by sliding his hand onto David’s thigh, the same one he had pinched, “might not be the time to to get into that topic. Just in case.”

I don’t want to start arguing when we just had really great sex and we’re like five minutes away from cuddling if I play my cards right, is what Matteo was thinking, but he figured he got the point across.

David hummed, and nodded, the amused smile still on his face, and tilted his head against the wall and said, “Okay, let me think.”

Matteo stared at him, from where the blanket was draped over his lap, up his bare chest, up the angle of his neck, and still found himself blown away at how beautiful he was. He sighed, glad that David wasn’t watching him swoon.

“Okay I got something,” David said suddenly, turning to Matteo, his eyes bright, “so, growing up we had a cat. My sister got to name it because she was older, and she named the cat Martha Jones, after a Doctor Who character. That cat fucking hated me.”

Matteo laughed, but David didn’t look like he was done, so he prompted him with, “And?”

“Years later, I moved in with my sister, and she wants us to get another cat. So, we go to a shelter, and there’s a cage in the back with a sign on it that says ‘Martha Jones’. Completely different cat, but of course my sister says we have to see her.”

Matteo nodded, enthralled.

“So she goes to ask a worker, and this dude says that that cat was a biter, would hiss, and scratched anyone that went near her unless they had food. Laura insisted, because she’s stubborn, so they brought us into a room and the dude basically tossed the cat in with us and closed the door.”

“That doesn’t sound safe.” Matteo said, shifting closer until he was able to rest his head in David’s lap. He couldn't hold back the need any longer, and he was pleased when David started playing with his hair.

“It wasn’t, she immediately scratched me so bad I started bleeding,” David said with a chuckle, “but she chilled out after a bit, my sister was very persistent. After like 20 minutes she was purring in my lap.” David finished with a proud smile down at Matteo.

If Matteo hadn’t already been crushing that would’ve sealed the deal. It did make something soft settle in his chest, and made his hands a little tingly, and he didn’t think twice before asking, “Can I see a picture?”

David looked thrilled at the question, and he leaned over to grab his phone. Matteo watched, biting back a grin as David scrolled through his pictures before settling on one and handing his phone over, obviously excited for Matteo to see.

The first thing Matteo could make out was a metal music stand, the same basic kind he had in his room for practicing, but it was tilted so the tray was lying flat. He grinned at the cat bed that was resting on top of it, and actually awwwed out loud at the pretty calico, splayed out on her back in a sunbeam. The stand was in front of a large window, and Matteo could see plants around it, and he wondered if it was David’s room.

“Yeah,” David said, looking at the picture again himself before putting his phone down. Matteo felt a tug on his hair, and he looked up to see David staring down at him, and he said, “now you.”

“Me? I don’t have any cats to show off,” Matteo said, wrapping his arms around David’s legs so he could squeeze himself closer.

“No, now you have to tell me something about yourself,” David said, rolling his eyes, but his face was softer than Matteo had ever seen it.

“Oh, shit,” Matteo said, not thinking that David was going to turn the conversation on him, and he hummed for a second before saying the first thing he could think of, “well, I like to sing. When I was younger I used to have a vocal coach and everything, now I mostly just sing whenever my roommate isn’t home.”

It wasn’t something he brought up, or really thought about too often, because ultimately the decision for him to stop the training was out of his hands, and he regretted not being able to go farther with it the same way he could with the baritone.

“Why’d you stop?” David asked, his voice soft, as if he could sense the sadness underlying the statement.

“Well,” Matteo said, shifting back a little bit so he could roll onto his back and say it up to the ceiling, “my mom was the one who got me the lessons, I had already been taking them for the baritone for a year or so. My dad got pissed, because I was already singing in the church choir at that point, and he didn’t want singing to distract from my other music shit. When I got older, uh,” he paused to take a breath, “there was a while where my mom wasn’t living with us, so all the singing lessons stopped. I stopped singing at church, too, and, well. I was better at the baritone anyway.”

He hadn’t noticed that while he had been talking, David had slid down more on the bed until he was resting on his side, and he was staring with a concerned look when Matteo turned to him again,

“They have vocal coaches through the school,” David said, an arm inching across the mattress towards Matteo, “you can sign up for one, if you want. I can get you the email of the person who sets them up, I-”

Matteo laughed at David’s eagerness to help, cutting him off, and rolled back over onto his side, surprised at how close he found himself to David. He felt a hand gently sliding onto his hip, and he bit his lip, his eyes meeting David’s, and he leaned in to kiss him.

David didn’t seem to have expected it. He made a sound, and Matteo worried for a moment that he was going to pull away but instead he was pulled in closer, David’s hand sliding onto the small of his back. He pulled away, and David rolled onto his back, his cheeks pink.

“Thanks, but I don’t need any of that,” Matteo said, and he hesitantly let his head drop onto David’s shoulder, and then let his arm drape across his stomach when David tangled their legs together, “it’s just something I do for fun now.”

“For fun,” David repeated, and then took a breath and asked, “since the topic of music is back on the table, do you want to hear a secret?”

Matteo looked up, amused, and then propped his chin on David’s chest so he could see him better, and he said, “Yes, please.”

“So, I can play almost every wind instrument, right? And brass too, and I can figure out percussion pretty quickly. I can pretty much play anything you’ll find in the average wind ensemble, and then some.”

Matteo rolled his eyes, “That’s not a secret.”

“Yeah, but,” David took another breath, and it seemed like it actually pained him to say, “I can’t play anything with fucking strings.”

“Really?” Matteo asked, leaning up a bit more so he could see the hurt on David’s face, and he grinned, and questioned, “not even guitar? Or ukulele? Even I can play those a bit.”

“Nope,” David sulked, “nothing. One time my friend gave me her violin to try and she said I should be banned from ever touching anything with strings again.”

Matteo covered his mouth with his hands to stop the giggles that were threatening to pour out of him. It wasn’t like there was any actual expectation that David was able to play every single instrument that existed, but the shame he seemed to be feeling about his own inability was hilarious.

“Now you have to tell me something else too,” David said, poking Matteo in the cheek, obviously trying to change the subject,

“You offered that information up freely, I don’t have to tell you shit.” Matteo snarked back. He was still reeling from how strange this new dynamic was, and he wanted to push a bit, see what was allowed.

David scrunched his face up before suddenly grabbing Matteo’s wrist and flipping him onto his back, David hovering over him, looking much too pleased with himself. Once he could tell Matteo wasn’t going to try to move he slid his hand off his wrist and down his chest, onto his hip, and blinked his dark eyes slow and said, “Tell me something.”

“I can speak Italian,” Matteo blurted out immediately, unable to resist a hot, mostly naked boy pinning him to his bed.

“Oh yeah?” David asked with a grin, “Fluently?”

“Yeah,” Matteo said, his eyes wide as he stared up at David, “my dad’s from Italy, we spoke it when I was growing up.”

David hummed, still looking down at Matteo with the same cocky smile on his face, and said, “Say something.”

“No,” Matteo refused, and with a sudden burst of confidence he slid his hand onto the back of David’s head and said, “kiss me.”

David’s eyes widened but he smiled, and did as told. The conversation ended there.

*****

A few days later, a weekend, Matteo walked out onto his balcony. It was midday, and he had already eaten and gotten the work done for his academic classes, so he had an unlit joint dangling between his lips. He stretched, and squinted when the sun shone down on him bright enough to hurt his eyes. He dashed back into his room, intent on finding the sunglasses he knew were somewhere, and he saw something balanced against the wall in the corner that made him pause.

It was a ukulele, his ukulele, one that a random family member had gotten him when he was first accepted to the school. It was a bright blue, and Matteo knew that with most instruments a bright color didn’t ensure the best quality, but he didn’t mind because he barely played the thing. It was good enough for the random time every few months where Matteo would decide to teach himself a new song.

He thought back on his conversation with David. He felt the corners of his lips twitch up, remembering David’s pained face when he revealed his secret, and with a small laugh he grabbed the neck of the ukulele and tucked it under his arm. He found his sunglasses on the floor next to his desk, and slid them onto his face before walking back out the door.

He leaned against the railing of the balcony as he lit the joint, smiling around it, and puffing the smoke out his nose. His room faced out to an empty street, across from a bunch of buildings that he was sure nobody had gone inside for years. He liked how private it felt, for the years he had lived there he had only seen a handful of people out there.

Which made it the perfect place for him to pluck out a few random chords on the ukulele without the judgement he usually faced when playing music. He wasn’t good by any means, but he knew enough chords to play enough songs to keep himself occupied. There were even a few times when he and Jonas had played together out there, usually after a few beers or joints when Matteo was feeling less self conscious about giggling as he badly played along with Jonas actually playing his guitar.

He puffed on the joint, his eyes closing under the sunglasses as he started strumming. His fingers had settled naturally on the frets, playing the chords to the last song he had taught himself, one Jonas had played in his car that got stuck in Matteo’s head. He hummed along, but stopped when the joint almost fell out of his mouth. He took a step back, rolled his shoulders, and started playing again.

The joint did fall out of his mouth, tumbling to the ground at Matteo’s feet, thankfully not setting anything on fire, when he heard from the street below him, “Matteo?”

Oh god, he recognized the voice immediately. He bent down to grab the joint and stubbed it out on the ashtray conveniently right next to him, and took a deep breath before peeking over the railing. And he was right about the voice, as David was standing there, a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun, squinting up at the balcony.

“Uh, yeah,” Matteo called back, lifting a hand to wave awkwardly before realizing that he was still clutching the ukulele, so he set it down, his fingers tight around the neck, “that’s me.”

“Nice shades.” David said, smirking up as he moved his hand from his eyes. The sun was going behind some clouds so the glare was gone, and Matteo lifted the sunglasses from his eyes with a blush.

“What are you doing over here?” Matteo asked, leaning over the edge so he could get a closer look. David had a bike next to him, and a backpack tight on his back, obviously either coming or going from somewhere.

“Oh, well, actually,” David said, digging the toe of his shoe into the ground like he was embarrassed by the question, “I was just taking a shortcut.”

Matteo snorted, and looked down at his arms folded across the railing. He didn’t really know what to say. He wasn’t expecting to see David obviously, and it didn’t seem like David’s answer matched his reaction to the question. He wanted to know what that was about. After an almost awkward silence, just as David’s hand tightened around the handle of his bike, Matteo quickly asked, “Do you want to come up?”

Something about David made Matteo do that a lot, blurt out things that drifted through his head that he wouldn’t usually say without a second more to think about it. He blushed after he asked, looking down at his arms again, not wanting to watch David uncomfortably decline. Sometimes it was hard to remember that they weren’t really supposed to like each other.

“Okay.” David said, confidently, and Matteo’s eyes snapped back down. David was looking up at him with his head tilted, a smile on his face like Matteo’s question was a challenge.

“Oh,” Matteo responded, needing to take a minute to realize that David was actually agreeing, “um, go around the front and I’ll buzz you in?”

David nodded, and hopped on his bike and disappeared around the corner of the building. Matteo let out a breath and rushed into his room, looking around with wide eyes to see what he needed to quickly kick under his bed and shove in his closet. He managed to tidy his room up enough to not be embarrassed by the time the buzzer went off, and Matteo ran to it, not even knowing if Jonas was home but desperately hoping he wasn’t.

He pulled the door open, biting his lip when David came into view, smiling slightly in that cocky way he did. He felt like he would swallow his tongue if he spoke out loud so he waved David into the flat, blushing at the chuckle David let out as he did so, and David bowed his head as he walked in, stepping past Matteo and stopping in the entrance to the main part of the flat.

“We should go chill on your balcony,” David said, looking around like he had never been there before. To be fair, the only time David had been there they were stumbling through the dark to Matteo’s room trying to keep their lips connected, so he didn’t blame him for taking the time to look around in the daylight.

Matteo nodded, and then realizing he hadn’t actually said anything since David came up, cleared his throat and said, “Yeah, sure.”

He led an amused David through his room, pointedly avoiding looking at his bed, his face flushing although he kept his eyes trained forward. David didn’t say anything, or even show in any way that he remembered the fact that just days ago they had been wrapped up in each other in that very same bed, kissing and touching and a lot else. Matteo didn’t know how he was so nonchalant about it when the sight of the bed instantly brought the taste of David’s lips to Matteo’s head, the feeling of his hands on him, Matteo’s hands in his hair. He shook his head and pulled the door to the balcony open harder than he meant to.

He was glad that they had chairs set out on the balcony, ones they had found outside some other building when they first moved in. They didn’t match but they were surprisingly comfortable and most importantly, not broken. Matteo only sat after David had picked a chair, and looked up at him, an amused smile still on his face.

“I should tell you that I lied, earlier.” David said suddenly, after Matteo sat. He looked up, confused, at David’s smile.

“Lied about what?”

“I wasn’t really taking a shortcut.”

Matteo raised an eyebrow, “Oh?”

David nodded, and bent down, digging around in the backpack at his feet. Matteo settled back in his seat to watch until David sprang back up with a book in his hand.

“Don’t tell anyone,” David started, flipping to a page near the end, “but I might sometimes sneak into buildings in a way that isn’t totally...legal.”

Matteo smiled at that, tilting his head, and asked, “For any particular reason, or do you just like the thrill?”

David smiled back, not cocky, and said, “It is pretty thrilling, especially when you get chased out by security guards. But I really do it for this.”

His cheeks got a little rosy when he handed the book over to Matteo, and Matteo’s jaw dropped when he looked down at the page. He was expecting words, but instead there was a sketch done in black pencil, and it took Matteo a minute to piece together what it was.

[idk dude figure out what he drew i guess lmao i dont care enough to try to write this part rn]

“These are… really good,” Matteo said, flipping through the pages. He didn’t really know if David wanted him to but he didn’t try to stop him, so Matteo let his eyes wander over the pages.

“Yeah, well,” David said, sounding a little sheepish, “it’s a hobby, I guess.”

Matteo was quiet as he turned page after page, finding sketches of more abandoned buildings, random people, different plants. A cat popped up a few times, which made Matteo smile, along with the doodles of instruments and staff lines half filled with notes. He didn’t realize how long he had been absorbed in the book until he noticed he was on the second to last page. He stared at the drawing that seemed somewhat familiar, a barely-started portrait, a head with short swooping hair, a button nose, a small smile-

“Okay, um,” David said quickly, his hand darting out to grab at the book, “yeah, a lot of those last ones aren’t finished. Not really that interesting.”

“I thought they were,” Matteo muttered, a little annoyed at being interrupted. He had been enjoying himself.

“I, uh,” David started as he shoved the book back into his bag, “don’t usually show that to people.”

Matteo tilted his head. He had never seen David look less sure of himself. He leaned back in the chair, biting his lip, his eyes avoiding Matteo’s. He seemed almost… shy? Timid? Words that Matteo would never associate with David.

“Well, you should,” Matteo said after a moment of silence, “it sucks that you’re amazing at that too.”

That got a bit of a chuckle, and Matteo grinned at David until their eyes met. There was a beat, and then David looked away again.

“I don’t know,” David said, his cheeks getting pink again, “that’s something I really only do when I need to escape. I just… go somewhere, and draw whatever I can find. I don’t really show people because I’m not doing it for anyone else. Like… you know.”

Matteo had a million questions about what he meant by that, but David had crossed his arms over his chest and looked off to the side after saying it, his jaw set. He let out a long exhale through his nose, and Matteo got the hint that he didn’t want to further dissect that statement.

Matteo leaned back in his chair, quiet, trying to figure out how to turn the conversation back around. He could tell David maybe hadn’t meant to say as much as he did, maybe was a little embarrassed at revealing something so personal. Showing off a picture of his cat a week or so prior was nothing compared to talking about something that he was actively keeping to himself. His escape, from what Matteo knew was a very stressful and hectic life.

He thought for a moment, his eyes darting around the balcony to find something to change the topic, to stop David from looking so uncomfortable. His eyes landed on his ukulele. He paused there, the thought alone making his heart race and something nervous twist up in his stomach, but before he could stop himself he reached out and grabbed it, letting it settle in his arms the way it always did. David didn’t look over until Matteo accidentally twanged one of the strings.

“Um,” he said, when David’s eyes widened and a grin started growing over his face, “I’ll trade you.”

The grin stopped, David tilted his head in confusion and asked, “You’ll trade me what?”

“You told me about what you do that’s just for you, that you don’t usually share with other people,” Matteo strummed, quickly adjusting a couple of the tuning pegs until the sound was just right, “only fair that I do the same.”

“I didn’t think that playing the ukulele was that important to you.”  David said, uncrossing his arms, relaxing back into his chair a bit. The tension was gone from his face, and his lips were curved up at the sides.

“It’s not,” Matteo said with a smirk that looked more confident than he felt, and he took a deep breath before putting his fingers on the frets.

He started strumming the song he had been playing when David showed up, looking down at his hands because he knew he would need to focus on the chords and not on David looking at him. He took another deep breath, tried not to think about it, and started singing.

“There once was a bittersweet man and they called him Lemon Boy….”

Matteo hadn’t considered the lyrics before singing them, just picking a song that was fresh in his head so he wouldn’t embarrass himself by messing up, not that David would have been shocked by that. It was a simple song, pretty, one that he didn’t have to think too hard about. But as he sang it, as the lyrics came out of his mouth less timid with every word, he felt butterflies in his stomach. He got to the chorus, and closed his eyes.

“Lemon Boy and me started to get along, together,” he sang, ignoring the heat he could feel spreading across his cheeks, “I helped him plant his seeds and we'd mow the lawn in bad weather.”

Matteo stumbled on a chord, managed to fix it in a second but he knew David heard it. He continued, though. David had reminded him of that often, not to stop when he made a mistake.

“It’s actually pretty easy being nice to a bitter boy like him...”

He sang the next verse, getting a little sloppy with the chords as he failed to not think about the words he was singing. He got through it, got halfway through the next chorus, and was suddenly cut off when loud classical music started playing from David’s bag. His hands stilled, and he opened his eyes.

It was as if David hadn’t even noticed he stopped, or the sound coming from somewhere near his feet. His eyes were wide, shiny and dark, staring into Matteo’s, leaning forward in his chair like he didn’t want to miss a single word, a single strum of Matteo’s fingers over the strings. His head was tilted, lips parted just enough that a long shaky breath could escape, his hands gripping tight to the arms of the chair. He looked awed by Matteo’s mediocre performance.

David’s gaze snapped down to his bag when the classical music started again, and he whispered an, “Oh, shit,” as he dug through it. He pulled his phone out and Matteo expected him to put it to his ear, assuming the music was a ringtone, but instead he could see it was an alarm that David turned off with a slide of his finger across the screen.

“I was supposed to be home a while ago, I need to, uh,” David cut himself off as he stood, shoving his phone into his pocket and zipping his bag closed before swinging it onto his back, “I have to do my shot today.”

“Oh,” Matteo responded, not understanding what David meant. He wasn’t able to say anything else, like singing had taken the rest of his voice for the day.

“You know, testosterone?” David stuttered out, nervous, as if Matteo didn’t already know he was trans.

“Oh,” Matteo said again, almost smacking himself in the face when he blurted out, “have fun?”

That made David pause, his franticness to leave slowing as a smile grew over his face. He bit his lip, and then to Matteo’s shock, let out a laugh.

“I’ll try my best,” he said, winking. That action alone was enough to have Matteo collapsing back into his chair. David turned towards the door, put one foot back into the apartment, and then stopped before saying, “oh, and Matteo?”

“Yes?” Matteo said, leaning forward again, greedy to hear whatever David was about to say.

“One day I’ll show people my art. Have an exhibit at a museum, maybe.” he said, turning his head so he could look back at Matteo with a soft smile on his face, “but only if I can hire you to sing there.”

Matteo’s jaw dropped, his face turning bright red as David walked through the door. He flopped back in his chair, waited until he could hear the clicks of his door opening and then closing, and let out the breath he had been holding for who knows how long.

[sushireads]

yoongi fic recs

this is a list of yoongi fics i’ve read and loved very much! enjoy. <3

ps. all fics with 🍙 are the ones i loved a little bit more.

“Where’s my kiss?” by @mintseesaw​

fluff | drabble | 1.6K words

A Wish Out of Water by @jimlingss​

🍙, fluff, humor, fantasy | two shots

A genie could solve all your problems. Though you wouldn’t even know exactly what to ask for - money, a warmer house, a better job, a better life? But Min Yoongi is no ordinary genie. He’s here to make your life a living hell. Too bad it was hell to begin with.

GENIE au

All I Want for Christmas by @hayjeon​

🍙 | one shot | 13K words

CEO, CHRISTMAS, SECRETARY, SINGLE DAD au

an out of bounds umbrella by @yoonsgiggle​

fluff | one shot | 10.2K words

you’re apologetic about almost blinding your university’s star point guard with the broken tip of your umbrella until you share a class with him and find out he’s a three star recruit but a four star dick or min yoongi doesn’t find your high school musical puns amusing.  

BASKETBALL PLAYER, COLLEGE, ENEMIES TO LOVERS au

aquiver by @floralseokjin​

🍙, fluff, angst, smut | series

Yoongi can’t remember the last time he was able to successfully bring himself to the point of orgasm, then Namjoon gives him a business card advertising ‘Healing Hands’, and that’s where he meets you; pretty and innocent looking, who gets paid to provide hand jobs for a living…

IDOL au

bad boys bring it to you by @yuengi

smut | one shot | 7.1K words

TATTOO ARTIST au

Black & White by @akinnie75

🍙, fluff, angst | one shot | 24.7K words

You finally confessed to Yoongi after he asked if you like him. His response is to give you a contract to sign. However, you soon realize that Yoongi manufactured your emotions and manipulated you to like him all for the sake of his senior project.

SLOW BURN au

Blackthorn Manor by @kpopfanfictrash 

one shot | 7.5K words

After becoming the assistant of professional recluse Min Yoongi, you begin to notice strange things. Noises which shouldn’t take place, shadows which shouldn’t move like they do. You’re almost convinced that you’re crazy - until something happens, something unbelievable to make you realize you’re not.

GOTH au

Blow by @inkofyoongi

smut, fluff | one shot | 5.5K words

Yoongi loves you, even if he’s never said it… but gestures sometimes speak louder than words.

BOYFRIEND au

budapest by @junghelioseok

smut | one shot | 11.1K words

over many years and across several dozen cities, you fell in love.

SECRET AGENT au

Clair De Lune by @yoonia

smut | one shot | 23K words

You were ready to leave a part of your life to move on to the next, and he is willing to give you a chance to end it glamorously. But at what cost? And will he be a part of the life you are leaving behind or will he be there for the next part of it?

—part of @bangtansmutcentral‘s In The Mood Project

ESCORT, MUSICIAN au

Cut Me Open by @hayjeon

angst, smut, fluff | two shots

—a spin-off from Cardio Palpitations

MARRIED COUPLE, SURGEON au

dancing with the devil by @minnpd

smut | one shot | 6.8K words

Easy Rebound by @ditzymax

smut, angst | one shot | 6.5K words

Yoongi is one of the star players on the college basketball team. You are the head of the cheerleading squad. The pair of you would make the most beautiful (if most cliché) couple on campus, except neither of you have ever wanted anything more than the frequent, casual fuck. Yet somehow Yoongi finds his emotions straying towards dangerous territory.

BASKETBALL PLAYER, CHEERLEADER, COLLEGE au

ego: hoe chronicles by @suga-kookiemonster

smut | one shot | 7.2K words

he was messing with you again. he was messing with you, trying to get a reaction out of you simply for his own amusement. but you refused to give it to him—refused to give him the satisfaction of playing right into his hands.

—an alternate universe of ego

COLLEGE, FRAT BOY, FUCK BOY au

eight by @cupofteaguk

🍙, fluff | one shot | 5K words

or, Eight times Min Yoongi tells you he loves you

IDOL au

First-Date BAIT! by @jimlingss

fluff | two shots

First dates are embarrassing. First dates are awkward. I’ve been through countless ones, sitting across from people who bored the living daylights out of me. It was less exciting than watching paint dry. Some dates were so utterly rude - I think you and I both know what it’s like to be on the receiving end on that. But now we both don’t have to waste our time anymore!

With First Date Bait they went out for me! Afterwards, they informed me if it was recommended to go out on a second date. It’s amazing with a 99.99% accuracy rate! That’s how I ended up meeting my husband!

First Date Bait.

Why waste your time with awkward first dates?

—part of the Service Series

Hades by @littlemisskookie

horror, smut, angst, fantasy | one shot | 9.4K words

You meet a rather dreamy- albeit annoying, new kid who sweeps you off your feet. Too bad it’s in the middle of a series of murders around town.

GREEK GOD au

heavy sugar by @kinktae

smut | one shot | 8K words

The Roaring Twenties were a time of great economic wealth and social change. But beneath the jazz music and colorful speakeasies were mafia led organized crimes and bloodstained cash. You knew this well, but try as you might, you just couldn’t ignore the dark and enigmatic gangster whose eyes lingered on you from across the room.

—part of the rewind series

1920s, GANGSTER, FLAPPER, MAFIA au

i’m not your daddy by @scriptaed

🍙, fluff | one shot | 2.5K words

learning that his daughter no longer wishes to wed him but rather his now-arch-enemy jungkook marks the most soul-crushing day your husband has ever had to endure. no one, and he means no one, is more deserving of his angel than daddy min himself, and he’s willing to do anything to earn his daughter’s heart back.

DAD, PARENT au

Ink Nemesis by @scriptaed

🍙, angst, fluff | series

As an aspiring writer drowning under the public’s radar, a click of the pen is all you need to accept your supervisor’s offer to co-write an article for the SS - Secrets Spilled, a regular section of your company’s weekly tabloid; but fabricated stories and invasive details aren’t all that you write when you discover Min Yoongi’s dirty little secret. 

FAKE DATING, IDOL, PAPARAZZI au

La Douleur Exquise by @cinnaminsvga

ON-GOING | fluff, angst, smut, fantasy | series

in which you accidentally summon an incubus in the middle of your shitty apartment and he won’t leave until you agree to have sex with him. until then, min yoongi, incubus extraordinaire, is now your sexually promiscuous and grumpy roommate. aka, the incubus au no one fucking asked for.

INCUBUS au

Melody companion by @prisczero

fluff | one shot | 3.6K words

“A soulmate story where Yoongi can hear everything that you listen to, but only if it is music.’’

IDOL, SOULMATE au

Miss Dial by @versigny 

ON-GOING | 🍙, smut | series

[11:31] You: okay so i’m texting you now like I promised instead of drunktexting yoongi and telling him how badly i want his cock tonight. Arent you proud?

[11:32] unknown number: this is yoongi, hi

FRAT au

Mixtape by @jungblue

🍙, smut, fluff, humor | one shot | 15.6K words

Two mystery students from your college run the podcast dubbed ‘mixtape.’ It’s become a sort of phenomenon around campus, listened to by almost everyone. In their most recent episode they discussed various study methods… One of them being oh so tempting.

COLLEGE, PODCAST PERSONALITY au

Next Door by @personasintro

smut, fluff | one shot | 10.3K words

Your neighbor doesn’t respect your complaints about him being loud, but you don’t let it slide so easily.

ENEMIES TO LOVERS, NEIGHBOURS au

petals by @yoonia

🍙, fluff | series

IDOL, PARENT au

see you soon by @cupofteaguk

fluff, angst | one shot | 7K words

In which you live in a world where one stroke of a pen against your skin is a signage of forever, and Min Yoongi just has really good timing 

SOULMATE au

She’s Testosterone by @jimlingss

🍙, crack, smut | series

Drop dead gorgeous, cute and sassy - you adore your best friend. But is there more beneath the surface? Who exactly is Min Yoonji?

YOONJI au

so i heard you like bad boys by @scriptaed​

fluff | one shot | 4.7K words

while others see min yoongi as the resident heartthrob of the school - quiet, resilient, and mysterious - you can’t see him as anything other than your dorky best friend since childhood; but what you don’t know is his long desire to be anything but that, even if it means becoming the bad boy in town… or at least try to.

COLLEGE, FRIENDS TO LOVERS au

stay high by @personasintro​

smut, angst | one shot | 16.5K words

You’ve to stay high to keep your ex out off your mind when he comes back into your life.

EXES au

Studio cuddle by @mintseesaw​

fluff | drabble | 1.8K words

Tired from work, you went straight to Genius Lab in the hopes of being able to cuddle with Yoongi. You did not hesitate to press the passcode of his studio, knowing he might get pissed off for interrupting him from his work.

IDOL, PRODUCER au

Sweeter than Sweet by @gimmesumsuga​

fluff, smut, angst | series

“You never would have expected someone like Park Jimin to notice you. As handsome and beguiling as he is deadly, you’re enthralled from the very moment you meet. Addicted to his kiss and his bite, Jimin opens up your eyes to a whole new world of love, lust and seduction.”

VAMPIRE au

the blue coat and cerruti 1881 (a flash fire) by @yuhdongsaeng​

angst, fluff, smut | two shots

that’s the thing about flash fires. they’re intense outbursts of flames that reach their maximum heat quickly and don’t last a long time. hell, they don’t even get to fade before they cease to exist. however, flash fires may be intense and short, but the floor beneath them is ruined forever.

IDOL au

The Truth Between Us by @jimlingss & @gukyi

🍙🍙🍙, fluff, angst, fantasy | series

a book deal should be the most exciting time of your life, but there seems to be a constant and omnipresent damper on your mood in the form of a certain min yoongi, who you would just cut out from your life, if he weren’t your editor. but then, the world shifts beneath your feet, and you begin to wonder if maybe you’ve always been looking at life from the wrong angle.

ENEMIES TO LOVERS and loads more aus— just stop what you’re doing and read this masterpiece!

want a taste by @suga-kookiemonster​

smut, humor | one shot | 18.3K words

pretzel pro. most skillful tongue in the food court world. allegedly. that’s what yoongi keeps telling you, anyway. of course, you’re reasonably skeptical of his claims—but if there’s one thing that motivates the notoriously-lethargic man, it’s proving skeptics wrong.

—part of the you never shop alone collaboration

FRIENDS TO LOVERS, SHOPPING MALL au

what you did last summer by @winetae​

smut | one shot | 33.8K words

Yoongi was fine with a lot of things—you maxing out his credit cards to buy ridiculously expensive items of clothing that you never wore more than once, you taking out his newest ride for a spin without permission, you spending an extra thirty minutes on your hair and makeup when he was running late for a dinner function.

What he was not okay with, however, was you sharing your pussy with barely-out-of-college boys who were incapable of going five seconds without creaming their pants.

No, that was where he drew the line.

↳ alternatively titled; How to Get Dick - an autobiography written by (you)

TROPHY WIFE au

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[pressedinthepages]

Family Business

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Eskel/Jaskier

Rating: T

Masterlist

a/n: Another day, another collab with Maragret @sometimesiwrite cause we just cannot stop. And this one will have cHaPtErS!!!!!!

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Modern Coffee Shop AU. Eskel and his brothers run a coffee shop. Jaskier pops in one morning. Neither can anticipate what is to come.

The bell above the door of Happy Goat Coffee and Snacks tinkled quaintly as Eskel returned from the corner store, carton of almond milk in-hand. He slipped the receipt into the till and opened the milk fridge, taking stock to see if there was anything else that couldn’t wait for Wednesday’s delivery. All seemed to be in order—Barista Blend soy and oat milks, a few bags of regular milk. He didn’t like carrying almond (bad for bees), but it was the only thing some customers could drink so… here it was. 

He turned to make himself another coffee, taking stock of their baked goods: chocolate zucchini muffins, banana bread, blueberry muffins (a few missing, Geralt’s been here…), and an assortment of granola-based snacks. The overall business plan was plant-based and/or sustainably sourced in the hopes of filling a void left by the larger chains that were the only other options in the neighbourhood. It wasn’t a bad plan, and with the increasing number of conscious-consumer parents, they were establishing a strong and loyal customer base.

    Lambert carried a tray of sourdough paninis around the counter and began transferring them into the display case, arranging them as neatly as his energetic hands would allow. It had been hell working with him for the first little bit. Lambert took after their sainted mother only in being a morning person. His general pissy attitude skipped a generation and came directly from their grandmother. But the prickly bastard knew what he was talking about, and after some… heated negotiations, they managed to agree on finding a local butcher who could provide pork belly which Lambert would turn into proper bacon in the back. They barely had the space, but he somehow made it work, and it sold very well as an add-on. I mean, he wasn’t wrong. It did taste better.

    Of course, this didn’t stop the young brother’s grumbling. He simply did it while chewing. “Lambert, could you please, please, stop eating the bacon?”

    “I’m sorry, I must be doing this wrong. Do I look like I give a fuck???”

“No, you don’t. That’s why I’m doing it for you. Just...” he sighed “don’t eat us into bankruptcy.”

“What, so Geralt can drink all the fuckin organic ass lemonade he wants but I can’t have a piece of gods-be-damned bacon???”

“Geralt drinks the—oh my God you guys are killing me—look, I will talk to Geralt about the lemonade, you can have some, some bacon, and I’m going to try my hardest not to put my head through the fucking wall. Capiche?”

Lambert watched over Eskel’s shoulder as Geralt chugged the remainder of the lemonade from his cup through narrowed eyes in his direction.

“Fine.” Lambert growled, turning back to the kitchen. “You’ve got a fucking customer, by the way, boss.”

“Don’t call—oh never mind. Hello, sorry, welcome to the Exasperated Goat. I’ve changed the name.”

“I love it,” the young man on the other side of the counter crooned, cocking his hip with a smile. “Think it’ll really capture the true essence of the neighbourhood.” Eskel was struck dumb immediately, his words falling flat on his tongue. He was trapped in a pair of dazzling blue eyes and the brightest, most open face he’d seen in a—well, a depressingly long time, if he was honest. The young man was eccentrically stylish with bright splashy colours and patterns that had no business going together as well as they did. 

Eskel wasn’t the only one transfixed. His vivacious new customer was too busy marvelling at something inexplicable behind the proprietor’s hazel-green eyes and his… aura? Was that even a thing? How long have I been standing here? Oh God, am I staring? Shit. 

Geralt swaggered behind the counter and bumped into Eskel's shoulder pointedly.

“What can I get you?” He fumbled, working hard to regain his senses.

The young man recovered more smoothly, “Cappuccino, dry please. And a chocolate zucchini muffin. Please,” he added with a cheeky grin, holding out a twenty.

Eskel took the money and their fingers brushed, just the tiniest bit—was that a linger?—but he felt the sparks fly under his skin nonetheless, and as he got to work steaming milk, he desperately tried to remember how small talk worked. The young man beat him to it. 

“How’s the morning so far?”

Eskel sighed, glancing up at him. “Not...terrible,” he said, peering over his shoulder to find Lambert now munching on a mini quiche. “Lambert keeps eating the merchandise, but I suppose it could be worse.” 

Eskel was caught up in the man’s smile again until the rapidly rising temperature of the milk that brought him back to himself. He tapped the pitcher to settle the foam and wiped the steam wand, “How’s your day been...?”

“Can’t complain,” the man shrugged, taking a sizeable bite out of the side of his muffin—an act that Lambert would have seen as a criminal offense. Eskel disguised an amused grimace. “Had a gig last night, decent turnout. One or two people I didn’t know actually showed up on purpose.” Eskel knocked a portafilter empty, cleaning it with a well-practiced twist of the wrist. The man’s eyes drifted to the espresso-stained microfibre cloth that was currently being handled so expertly and found his mind wandering, jarred back to reality as the grinder kicked on. He jumped a little. 

“Ah, you’re a musician, then?” Eskel asked over the noise.

He nodded, swallowing thickly as he took in the breadth of Eskel’s shoulders. “I like telling stories,” he called back.

“Ah, you write your own stuff, then.” Eskel knocked the edge of the portafilter against the palm of his hand to settle the espresso and Jaskier was lost again, watching large, graceful hands working with strength and precision, all in the name of a decent cup of coffee. Eskel looked at his mesmerized conversation companion, “Or do you prefer to cover?” 

“Hm? Oh, well, a bit of both. I like to cover because it gives people a sense of familiarity, like they can trust you with their evening. It sets the tone. Then I do my own stuff once I’ve got them on my side.”

Eskel cut the shot as the rich caramel colour of the dark espresso began to run lighter, and he gave it a sniff, ensuring the extraction was good before pouring in a little milk, and dolling out large quantities of foam. He passed the drink to the young man. “Extra dry.”

“Ah, my hero,” the young man wrapped his hands around the cup and brought it to his lips. “Mmm, delicious as always.” 

“Always?” Eskel asked, tearing his eyes away from the young musician’s long, slender fingers. “Y-you’ve been in here? I don’t—I’d’ve thought I’d remember you.” 

“Mhm, I usually pop in in the afternoons though, it’s typically Geralt over there who’s working.” He waggled his fingers over Eskel’s shoulder and he heard Geralt grunt in acknowledgment.

“Ah, yes. He takes over from me so I can go home and sleep. Well, rather forces me to. It’s hard to remember there’s a home when you spend most of your time at your own business. You hear people talk about self-care? Mine’s Geralt.”

And the young man, who Eskel thought was incapable of being any more charming, laughed so brightly and earnestly that Eskel could’t stop the grin that spread to his own face—not that he’d’ve wanted to. 

"I suppose that's what partners are for, isn't it?" he said flippantly, adding a dash of nutmeg to the foam in his cup and stirring in a little honey. 

"Pardon?" 

"To remind you there's something other than work, you know, house and family and—" 

"Oh, uh, no—business partner. Geralt's just a—well not just. He's my brother." 

"Ah! I'm so sorry, I just assumed... You know, urban cafe, tasteful decore, and then you mentioned he’s your self-care. Most people aren't that close with their siblings is all." 

Eskel nodded, "Our other brother's in charge of the kitchen. It's... a long story, but, here we are!" 

Eskel watched as the young man took a deep breath through his nose, seemingly steeling himself. He was then met with those striking eyes again as a napkin was slid across the counter, just barely brushing his fingertips. “In that case...would you like to get dinner sometime?”

"I—what?" Eskel shook his head, not quite believing what he was hearing. 

The young man smiled again,"It's alright. I'm just giving you a napkin with my number on it. You can use it to communicate with me. You know, texting? Call me? Maybe eat some food?" 

"But I—I don't understand, why?" 

The young man playfully rolled his eyes, "If you're not interested, you can just say so."

“No! No, I absolutely am, I’m ju-“ Eskel stammered, trying desperately to keep from sticking his foot in his mouth and driving the young man away,“I’m just not sure why you are.”

The young man just laughed brightly, his blue eyes flashing beneath dark lashes, "Because you're handsome, hard-working, and the way we've connected just now gives me a hunch. Besides, how long has it been since you had a chance to get away and go to dinner with someone?" 

Eskel eyed his customer, thought for a moment, and tapped the napkin before picking it up. "Walk first, then dinner. I hate starting dates like a third-degree."

The young man set down his coffee and held out his hand, beckoning to Eskel over the counter. As he came around, he offered his hand in return, and was shocked by the—could he call it intimacy?—of the musician’s hand gently closing around his. It may as well have been an embrace. “I-“ and of course his voice cracked. Eskel cleared his throat with a chuckle, finding those beautiful baby blues once more. “I’m Eskel.”

"Julian. Stage name is Jaskier. You can call me either, it doesn't really matter." 

Eskel smiled warmly, "It's nice to meet you, Julian." 

"Likewise, Eskel. I, uh, I should get going. But. Text me, we'll make plans."

Eskel watched as Julian left, his stride long and confident. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, staring into empty space, but at some point Geralt once again appeared to nudge against his shoulder. “Better save that napkin, brother.”

Eskel nodded at the flimsy paper in his hand, looking at the digits like they were an ancient cipher that needed decoding. "Better yet..." Geralt said, surreptitiously grabbing Eskel's phone from off the counter, unlocking it, and texting, Hope you have a good day.

"Here you go," Geralt said, handing the phone back to Eskel before pouring himself a drip.

Eskel’s stomach simultaneously lept into his throat and fell onto the floor. “Geralt,” he breathed, watching the *read* message pop up, “well now what? By the way,” Eskel suddenly turned, wagging his finger at the end of Geralt’s nose, “quit drinking all of the merchandise!”

“First off, now he can actually text you back instead of waiting to hear from you all day, which is exactly what would happen if left to your own devices. Secondly... Lambert said he wouldn’t tell you.” 

Eskel shook his head, mouth agape, “Unbelievable.”

Eskel’s fingers itched as he continued about his morning business, his phone silent in his pocket. He had nearly given it up as a lost cause when it finally chimed, and then he almost sent the phone flying across the store in his haste. 

So sorry for the late reply, Eskel. I was on the metro and then I had to run off downtown and then, alas, my phone died. I should really get one of those portable battery things. Ah well. Thank you for the well wishes!! It really brightened my day once I finally got them 😍😍😍

Eskel exhaled deeply. Okay, this was okay, this was good. He typed and deleted. Retyped. Deleted. Geralt reappeared over his shoulder, glancing at the text no worries, wanted to make sure you had my number. Geralt shook his head and took a sip of coffee before grabbing Eskel’s phone and typing, no worries, glad you got it sorted. Hope the metro wasn’t too much of a disaster. Geralt handed Eskel his phone to peruse the message.

“When did you get good at texting?” Eskel murmured as he pressed ‘send.’ Geralt merely shrugged as he ambled away, clearly in search of something to snack on as he finished inventory and ordering. Eskel called over his shoulder, “Would you please make more lemonade since you drank it all?!?!” 

As Geralt’s hum in the affirmative hit his ears so did the chime of his phone.

Not bad at all! Only one shouty person, and he didn't even hurl obscenities after me :D Although a mother with a very large stroller gave me a rather impressive side-eye as I sat down with my guitar tucked between my feet and mumbled something about manspreading. Some days it's the little things that get you through 🙃

Eskel replied, That sounds about right for 2 in the afternoon. Too bad you didn't see the Singing Man, he'll really give your day a kick you didn't know it needed.

You know what would give my day a good kick? A lovely walk with a lovely man ;) 

And Eskel blushed. Full on blushed. Lambert snorted from where he hovered in the doorway. 

“Go on, lover boy,” Lambert smirked, taking a bite out of another goddam slice of bacon. “We’ve got it covered.”

He rubbed his face. It was hard to think straight. He'd been up since 4:30, and part of him just wanted to go home and sleep, but it was also the first sunny day they'd seen in what felt like over a month, and the idea of a nice walk with some light conversation wasn't unappealing in the least. He frowned at Lambert, "How do you even know it's him that texted?" 

"Because you just turned three shades of pink and stared at your phone like it's a piece of alien technology." 

Eskel grumbled and turned back to his phone. Would be nice to get some company and fresh air. What part of town are you in? Meet in the middle?

Meanwhile, Julian was on the metro. Again. His leg bounced where he was sitting, reading the same paragraph of some random book over and over again. He knew it was a long shot coming all the way back to the coffee shop—Eskel might be done for the day and gone home or out doing shopping or—but it could be worth it. He lept off at his stop and bounded up the stairs, and his phone dinged with a delayed notification. He smiled at his phone and stowed it away, walking as fast as he possibly could until he saw the familiar sign of the coffee shop. Julian slowed down so that he didn’t cross the line from ‘windswept’ into ‘desperate’ and peered into the little window. He spotted Eskel immediately, his back to the door and speaking with another man behind the counter, presumably Lambert. Julian smiled and pushed open the door.

"Whoa-ho-ho, Pretty Boy at twelve o'clock." 

Eskel looked up from Jaskier's Spotify account and quickly closed his phone. "I suggested halfway, I hope you didn't come all the way across town."

Now it was Julian’s turn to stammer a bit, his tongue feeling too large for his mouth as his eyes swept across Eskel’s form. Since this morning, it had clearly been a busy day. His cheeks were flushed and his hair curling at the nape of his neck, and he had even caught a glimpse of luscious chest hair peeking out from the sharp v-neck that pulled across his chest. “I-“ Julian grinned to himself, come on, keep it together, “I was already on the metro when you texted back, so I figured I’d just...come here!”

Eskel narrowed his eyes and hummed. "Want a drink before we head out?" 

"Oh sure, we can't eat the merchandise but you can give away free drinks to anyone who flirts with you?" 

"I—You—would you just..." 

Jaskier cut in, "I think you'll find that actually exactly how it works. Bit of an unspoken code. People have started taking advantage of it to get free coffee, though. Makes it hard for those of us who mean it..." Julian's eyes met Eskel's for a lingering second and Eskel had to remind himself to breathe. "London Fog, please, Eskel. But I'm happy to pay. I know tea is less expendable." 

"Hm. See, Lambert? It's a barista thing."

Lambert rolled his eyes as Eskel steeped the Earl Gray in a bit of hot water, added vanilla, and steamed some milk. He carefully slid the finished beverage over the counter, one of his hands finding the tie at the back of his apron. “So...” he said, trying to decide between meeting or avoiding Julian’s intense gaze, “would you like that for here, or to go?”

"I think you'll find it's already in a to-go cup," Julian said, raising an eyebrow. 

"That's because we're getting the hell out of here," Eskel said, and—much to Julian's instant pleasure and amusement—fluidly traversed the service counter, landing deftly on the other side. "I just need to change my shoes, and I'll be up in a second." Julian looked down to see Eskel's black work shoes covered with espresso and nodded, blowing on his tea as he watched, leaving him with the Prickly Brother, staring at him as he chewed his bacon. 

Julian sipped his tea and peered over the rim at Lambert, who had been scowling at him the entire time. Though he didn’t take it personally, it was likely that was just his face. “So,” Julian started, thrumming his fingers on the side of the paper cup, “you’re the one who’s been eating all of the merchandise?”

Lambert scoffed and scowled sideways, the last piece of bacon sticking out from the corner of his mouth. He nudged himself off the back counter and swaggered close to Julian. "Listen. I don't know what your deal is. But if you fuck him over, you will have two very big, very pissed off brothers to deal with. Got it?" 

"Fuck him over what?"

"'Scuse me?" Lambert said, scowling harder. 

"You said not to fuck him over, but didn't specify what."

It took Lambert a moment, but he granted himself one singular chuckle for the little shit. “Alright, kid. Just- be careful with him.” 

Julian smiled gently, peering over Lambert’s shoulder to where Eskel was striding back into the shop. “He seems like the kind of guy that I will certainly be trying my best to keep around.”

“Better believe it. You can spend your whole life looking, you won’t find a better guy than Eskel. He’s a fucking goldmine. But he’s our goldmine. Take his shine, you answer to us.”

“Yes, sir,” Julian mock saluted as Eskel handed something to Lambert. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was a piece of bacon. 

“Geralt’s in charge,” Eskel rumbled (which Julian found enticing) and with that, he turned on his heel and pulled open the door. He held it open and Julian smiled as the two of them stepped into the evening sun.

Eskel took a deep breath as soon as they stepped into the fresh air, letting the warm sunlight spill across his face. It was beautiful to look at. His hair glinted with little chestnut highlights and his arching eyebrows became even more pronounced in contrast with the brightness of his skin in the evening glow. Julian watched the muscles of his face relax, the pressure of greeting people slowly dissolving. His shoulders dropped, and he looked truly exhausted for a moment before opening his eyes and smiling softly. “So, Julian. Do you like dog parks?”

Julian braced an excited hand on the swell of Eskel’s arm (and my gods it was firm), “I would love to go to the dog park...but will it be odd if we just show up, without a dog?”

Eskel laughed and Julian felt his knees go a bit wobbly and he tucked his arm around Eskel’s for support. He noticed Eskel glance down. Ah, right, a bit forward. Easy Jaskier. Julian smoothly transitioned to holding his cup with both hands and Eskel smirked privately, appreciating the non-verbal understanding. “No, not really. We can find a bench if it’s not too cold, lots of people come by and watch. Not everyone in the city can have an animal, people are pretty understanding of onlookers.” Julian still looked skeptical, “c’mon, it’s not like going to a playground. I promise we won’t be creepy.”

“Well...” Jaskier smiled, flipping his hair out of his eyes, “lead the way.” 

Eskel walked slowly, stretching their time (and his legs) as much as he could. They made polite, easy small talk, finding little details about each other as they walked.

It turned out that they had surprisingly similar tastes in music, and Jaskier was both pleased and intimidated to learn that Lambert doubled as a DJ on weekends at one of the more popular clubs downtown. He was further surprised to learn that their father owned and operated one of the oldest Italian restaurants in the city and was quite famous because of it—he’d opened it as an homage to his Italian wife when she passed away unexpectedly—and while Papa Vesemir himself was Polish, he’d learned to cook from the best. 

It seemed they were a culinary family, in fact. Both Lambert and Geralt had trained in professional settings—Geralt had a background in baking, while Lambert had trained on the line with his father. Eskel, it turned out, preferred to be behind the bar. He liked people. Enjoyed making drinks. His father always joked that he had the “magic touch.” Every drink he made always came out tasting better, even if he followed the recipe to a T.

“So, why the coffee shop?” Julien asked as they rounded the corner of the dog park. They both smiled as they saw fluffballs of all shapes and sizes bounding around, and Eskel led them to a small bench.

He kicked his feet out in front of him and sipped his own coffee thoughtfully. “It was something we all knew how to do, and we saw a niche missing in the neighborhood. We had originally wanted to make it a bit more of a hub for artists and public resources—you know, host workshops, put up fliers, put artists’ work on the walls to sell. It isn’t quite where we want it yet, but it’s our old neighborhood. Wanted to give something back to the community. Plus, we like having regulars. You don’t get the same thing with restaurants. Cafes, though, you can get to know people better. Build loyalty.” 

Julian sat for a moment, looking at Eskel with a deeper appreciation than he already had. “You’re amazing,” he breathed, the words spilling from his lips without so much as a second thought. 

Eskel flushed even deeper, his neck a very pretty shade of pink. “I wouldn’t say all that...” 

“But I would,” Julian nodded, downing the remainder of his tea. “You’ve created something beautiful in a place that’s meaningful to you with your family, that’s amazing. And I’m allowed to say that, because I personally decide what is and is not amazing.”

“Fair enough,” Eskel raised an eyebrow and hid a smirk behind another sip of coffee. “It’s just... well everyone’s gone and opened up a coffee shop now, and it’s getting harder to see where our niche still sits. It’s a diverse neighborhood, we don’t want to alienate anyone, but we have to stay open... ah, I dunno. I suppose anything seems unremarkable if you’ve been waist-deep in the logistics for long enough.” 

“Do you have open mic nights?” 

“What?” 

“Open mic nights, you know, local artists bring their instruments, read poetry, play music, promote new albums while people buy alcohol and food?” 

Eskel tilted his head, “Huh...” 

“Yeah. Huh.” Julian nudged Eskel’s shoulder playfully. 

“The only issue with that is hours. We’d have to hire more staff and/or open later in the day so we can stay open.” 

“You could man a proper bar again,” Julian sang, jiggling his foot at the end of his crossed leg. 

Eskel reached an arm up and over and around Julian’s shoulder, “Julian, either you’re a remarkable person and I don’t know what on earth you could possibly want with me... or you’ve been sent by one of our competitors to play a long con and put us out of business.”

Julian tried valiantly to hide the shiver that ran down his spine just with the proximity, the weight of Eskel’s arm resting comfortably on his shoulders. “Well, if I told you that, then I’d have to kill you,” Julian smirked. Eskel threw his head back and laughed, reveling in the rejuvenating aura of the delight of a human that had deposited himself at his side.

“Hmmm, shall we keep walking? Or—I don’t want to keep you if you’ve got things to do,” his gaze on Julian was sincere and unassuming and the young musician was certain he’d never had less sense of any ulterior motives than he did in this moment. 

“I should drop my things home before work, actually. But we can walk for a bit in the same direction if you like.” 

Eskel shrugged, “Sure! Which way are we headed?” 

“I’m an Eastender,” Julian smirked. “Off we go!” He offered his elbow for Eskel to take, which he did—a little tentatively and far more gently than Julian would ever have expected from someone so... physically imposing.

Eskel could feel the persistent thrum of blood under his skin, but not in a way that signalled any particular desire. He felt comfortable, more content than he had been in a very long time, and he felt like he could easily waste an entire day doing exactly what they’d been doing for the last hour. Walking, talking, laughing... 

“What are you thinking about?” Julian asked, looking up at Eskel and stealing his breath in the same movement.

“I’m—uh—“ he cleared his throat again, “I’m thinking about how pleasant this has been and... also how comfortable I feel. I—well, I get the jitters, usually. With this kind of thing Which is not to say I haven’t still got them but,” they stopped walking for a moment, and Eskel turned to face his date, “what I’m trying to say is you’re very comfortable to be around. And that’s new.” 

“Wow... honesty. I wasn’t expecting that.” 

“I’m sorry did-did I...?” 

“Just make me more impressed?” That damn smile, “yes, I’m afraid you did. How tragic.”

Just like that, Eskel was lost again, caught up in those eyes that shone with an enigmatic innocence and penetrating observation that kept him looking and left him speechless. And Julian... well Julian was uncharacteristically at a loss for words in front of this stunningly kind, unbearably-gentle man he'd impulsively taken a chance on just a few hours ago because of a hunch. 

Eskel wondered whether Julian had leaned a bit closer during their few seconds of silence and countered, leaning forward a little himself. But he didn't want to make the young man think he was in it for the wrong reasons. The fact that he was older and larger wasn't lost on him, and the last thing he wanted was for Julian to feel any pressure. Those bright blue eyes flitted to Eskel's lips, and he swallowed, waiting. But Julian's intuition was too strong—Eskel was hesitating. Instead of following his eyes to the full, soft-looking lips in front of him, Julian placed his hands on Eskel's chest and dispersed the tension. 

“If we don’t keep walking I’m going to freeze my ass off,” Julian finally said. 

Eskel huffed a small laugh. “Come on then,” he jutted his chin, and the two started walking again. 

After a brief silence, Julian spoke, suddenly worried that Eskel felt rejected in some way, “For what it’s worth, I also feel quite comfortable. With you, I mean.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I find I’m starting to move away from the Village scene. It’s always nice to have a community, of course, be able to go to a bar and know you’re in good company but... in the city, everyone’s trying on identities and—it’s all well and good, they should, but it’s just... well, it was fun for a while. I just want to play music and make people happy.” 

“Hm. I can relate to that.”

Julian stopped at the top of the street that would lead him to his apartment, not really wanting the evening to end, wondering whether Eskel was aware exactly how much he’d brightened Julian’s day. 

“C-would you...I mean, if I- or-“ Eskel stuttered, his fingers fiddling at his sides. 

“Go on...” Julian crooked his head with a gentle smile. 

“Would you mind if I came to one of your shows?”

Julian closed his hands around Eskel’s shoulders and looked directly into his eyes. “Good God, please come to one of my shows so I can look at a face that wants to be there instead of my bored friends.” 

“Well, I’m sorry it has to be my face,” Eskel fumbled in his self-consciousness, hearing the sound of his own distasteful insecurity. He grimaced inwardly. bad form, Eskel. 

“Hm. Clearly, you haven’t met my pimply weak-chinned-not-at-all-utterly-dashing friends.” It was so easy. Ludicrously easy, the way Julian made Eskel smile in that moment. It truly was a remarkable feat, one that none of Eskel’s former failed romances had ever navigated as easily, or as quickly.

“Thank you,” Eskel said quietly, only for Julian’s ears. 

“Whatever for?” Julian’s brow crinkled adorably and Eskel wanted to smooth the creases away with his thumbs. 

“For...for being bold. Because I know I wouldn’t have.”

“Oh please. This is all stage presence and bravado. I’ve been on the verge of a nervous breakdown since I wrote my number on that napkin. Listen, I’ve—ahh I hate to do this but I really have got to run. We can text later or I’ll pop by the cafe tomorrow and—“ 

“Absolutely, do your thing, I don’t want to make you late. Let me know when you’re free and we’ll grab dinner.” 

“I’ll check my schedule tonight. Should be free in the next few days. Have a good night, Eskel. I mean that.” Julian turned to go, but turned back, quickly pecking a kiss to Eskel’s right cheek, leaving the man standing with a half-smile of surprise on his face as he watched his new love interest scurry into his apartment.

Eskel walked back to the coffee shop, his cheeks pained from the smile that still hadn’t faded. The little bell above the door chimed and Geralt looked up from where was wiping down the counter, and Eskel heard a loud clang as Lambert dropped a metal pan and came running to the front of the now-empty cafe.

Eskel stood in front of his brothers. Geralt’s hand stopped where it was mid-wipe and Lambert fidgeted where he stood, hands on his hips. “So??”

Eskel hadn’t seen Lambert this energetic in a long time, and stood silently, drinking in his little brother’s excitement. Geralt came out from behind the counter, “Eskel. I don’t want to beat it out of you, but you’re leaving me with very few options.” 

“Nah, Geralt, you gotta use smaller words. He’s clearly having a stroke. Eskel!” Lambert clapped loudly, “How did. It go. With Pretty Boy. C’mon, we’re tryna close up here!”

Eskel finally spoke, “I—yeah, it was great. I, uh, I really like him.” 

“Fucking finALLY, BROTHER, THAT’S FUCKIN’ AMAZING!” Lambert practically jumped on Eskel, and Geralt sauntered over to put an arm around his shoulder. “You call Dad yet?” 

“No, I want to wait. I want to make sure this time. Don’t wanna get his hopes up. Plus he’s... well, he’s a bit younger—“ 

Lambert cut him off, “Whoa, I’m gonna stop you right there. What do you always do?” 

“Self-sabotage.” 

“Exactly. So shut up with that shit. You like him, yes?” 

“Yes. Definitely, very much.” 

“And he likes you.” 

“Well I mean—“ 

“That wasn’t a question. He likes you. End of discussion. He’s an adult, let him decide what he wants. Geralt?” 

“Surprisingly sound logic, coming from you. Frightening, actually.”

Eskel nodded along as his brothers bickered back and forth. He felt like he was floating on air, without a tether to the ground. 

“Oh, fuck, he’s really gone for him isn’t he?” Lambert muttered, watching Eskel’s eyes glaze over once more.

Eskel smirked and shook his head, “Fuck off, Lambert.” He playfully shoved his brother’s head to the side and went to count out the till and take it downstairs. He just sat down by the safe when his phone pinged.

Free for dinner day-after-tomorrow, playing a gig tomorrow night and Friday. Which would you prefer first?

Eskel smiled and typed out a response of his own, sending it before he could rethink it. Could I come to tomorrow’s gig and take you to dinner Thursday? I really want to see you again.

He felt his breath immediately quicken, but his hand was steady as he waited for a reply. 

*...* 

*...* 

*...* 

Oh Jesus God please just reply...

Gig tomorrow is at 8:30, Gibson’s Pub in Corktown. $5 cover and also $5 Mill St. on tap. Dinner on Thursday it is. Not fussy, but nothing too spicy. Your choice 😊

Not quite sure what we should do for dinner, but I’m sure I’ll think of something. I won’t miss it for the world. Meanwhile, Eskel knew exactly where he’d be going for dinner. He shot off a text to his father and requested a quiet table for 2 at his restaurant. Papa Vesemir never asked too many questions, but he knew he’d have to explain later.

If you have the opportunity to save the world rather than listen to me play Wonderwall at someone’s request, please do. You can hear that literally any time you want.

For my favorite son, what wouldn’t I do?

Eskel replied to both: That’s a tall order. Watching you begrudgingly play Wonderwall could let me die a happy man.

Thanks, Pops. I know you’re not working that night, just tell Giulio nothing fancy, okay? Just a normal two-top.

Eskel’s phone dinged twice more: Oh my gods, you really are trying to kill me aren't you? You’re too sweet ;)

Mhm.

Eskel continued on with Julian, content with leaving Vesemir to finish his night. Don’t get me wrong, there would be a deep amusement in knowing how much you definitely hate that song by now.

Oh, I absolutely despise it and it needs to go die horribly in a dumpster somewhere. At least now I’ll have a confidante tomorrow evening. You know, someone to really share my suffering with.

Will you play any of your originals? 

Would you like me to?

Only if you want. I understand if you’d rather not share them right away. 

Julian was quickly realizing the extent to which he had, very much, struck a gold mine. Part of him couldn’t help but wonder what was waiting around the corner to make things not work out This Time. But he shoved those thoughts back. I share my music every week with people who’ve either heard it all before, or are too distracted to really care. Mostly Tinder dates trying to gain hipster points. Please. I would be so happy to know you’re there and actually wanting to listen.

Eskel felt his heart flutter in his chest as he rested his elbows on the desk with a crooked smile. 

I can’t wait, I’m sure they’re wonderful :) Eskel wasn’t really one to use emojis, but this one just kinda...slipped out.

He was whistling by the time he got to the top of the stairs and his brothers were already waiting for him, jackets on, lights out, floors mopped, door ready to be locked. 

“Dinner? Eskel said, trying to wipe what he knew was a stupid grin off his face. 

“Where to, lover boy?” 

Eskel deferred to Geralt, “Hmmm. China down?” 

“Mother Dumpling?” Eskel offered, pulling his collar up as they headed out, Geralt and Lambert sounding their agreement. With the cafe door closed and locked, the three brothers headed out into the evening.

[heavenwontbethe-same]

Sugar, him, and everything nice

Chapter 2: Vanilla icing

Pairing: Will x Gabriel

Summary: Will is a musician and Gabriel is a baker au

Wordcount: 587

A/N: i think i wrote one too many crack fics because i don't think my normal shit is as good as it was before ;-; like, the nobisuki series? so much fucking better than whatever this is. but i promised a few of y'all and i'll complete this series if it's the last thing i do. this is gonna be really shitty so don't come at me please ;-;

and merry christmas!

Series Masterlist

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It was frustrating. gabriel would try to come earlier and earlier everyday to catch sight of that elusive musician that had taken his little neighbourhood by storm, but to no avail. he would try to time his breaks accordingly, trying to put a face to those beautiful melodies, but it was always too crowded. the little flashes he got here and there were not enough to sate his curiosity. it was, however, enough for him to develop a small crush on the guy.

sophie had already told him that there wasn't much to see; the guy wore a hoodie and a mask. but still, gabriel, (and at least 20 other girls), got the vibes that he was cute. anyone who played an instrument, especially a guitar, was instantly hot, everyone knew that. didn't they? maybe gabriel needed that break now, he was going insane.

the handy little bell that alerted a customer's presence chimed and grabbed gabriel's attention. and made the cozy little bakery 10 times smaller. at least it seemed like that to gabriel. the cute guy that sophie had been mercilessly teasing him about since his visit a couple of weeks ago was back. and gabriel was alone in the shop. oh dear fucking lord.

"hey gabby," the man smiled, striding into the bakery.

"h-hey" gabriel replied, stuttering only mildly and not being as suave and nonchalant as he had hoped to be. this man gave him gay panic sure, but he didn't need to know that!

"what can i do you for today?" gabriel asked.

"my, oh my, aren't we straight forward?" the man laughed while gabriel flushed. "well, firstly, you can do me anytime you want," he winked, "and secondly, i want some cupcakes for my boss but i don't know what she likes. help out a guy? please?"

what was gabriel supposed to say to that? refuse? and even if he could, he couldn't resist those blue eyes looking at him like that. so, even with him feeling his face heat up and burn from the man's stare, embarrassment, and the overhead lighting, he pointed towards the case and began reciting pros and cons of each choice.

all while the man looked at him in a mixture of amusement and fondness, and he was oblivious.

"the more unusual flavours are almost always a hit or miss, so i would recommend going for safer options. we have the chocolate, the vanilla, and the red velvet, although a few people don't like that, can't even imagine why. you can also try other pastries? although you did say you don't know what she likes..." gabriel finished.

the man was leaning on the counter, still looking at him with that bright, fond smile.

"what would you recommend?" he asked.

"can i tell you a secret?" gabriel asked, leaning in with a teasing air, surprising himself with his confidence. "the vanilla here is to die for." he whispered into the charged space between them, holding the man's stare, green eyes poring into blue ones. "it's probably my favourite after the blueberry ones." his gaze flicked to the man's lips.

just when he thought the man might have been looking at his lips, the bell above the door chimed as a customer walked in and they broke away.

just as the man was walking away with his dozen vanilla cupcakes, gabriel called out.

"wait! what can i call you?"

the man turned, slowly walking backwards.

'where there's a will, there's a way" he grinned as he walked away.

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@who-beingloved-ispoor @wouldyouknowmeblind @daggxrsanddrxamers @dark-artifices-only @wylans-flute @wabriel @darkshadowqueensrule @annoying-pieceof-trash

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Baby Blue Eyes

(I wanted to write something cute cause I’m sleepy-ish and I Desire Soft Things. 80′s high school au, quarterback!Geralt and prep!Jaskier)

tw: alcohol mention, underage drinking (don’t do it kids) 

Baby Blue Eyes - A Rocket to the Moon

---

Geralt sighs and and stares up at his bedroom ceiling; he can’t get his stupidly cute new neighbor out of his head. 

The Pankratz family (which consists of two parents, a sixteen year old boy, and a senile grandmother) had moved in next door yesterday and the boy had decided to choose the room directly across from Geralt’s as his own. Not the slightly larger room at the back of the house across from Lambert’s (which Geralt learned he’d kindly given to his grandmother). Not the carpeted one downstairs across from Eskel’s (whenever Eskel was home from college). 

No, he’d gone for the one closest to Geralt’s. Of course.

Not that the boy had known it was so close to his when choosing, of course. The quarterback couldn’t blame the underclassman completely. It’s not like Julian, who had glared his Mom down for introducing him by his lame name and corrected her with ‘Jaskier’, knew that Geralt was bisexual as fuck.

It’s not like Jaskier knew that Geralt had developed an instantaneous and irrational crush on him. 

Geralt sighs again and rolls onto his side, looking out through the crack in his curtains and into Jaskier’s equally dark bedroom. He closes his eyes and prays for sleep to take him sooner rather than later.

---

“Geralt!” 

He shouldn’t be here. He’s too young for parties like this. Fuck, I’m too young for parties like this and he’s practically a baby in comparison to me. Geralt pulls Jaskier free from the crowd and escorts him out onto the front porch of the house where the kegger is being held.

“You’re drunk.” 

Not an accusation, just a statement of fact. The younger man glares defiantly up at him and Geralt feels his gut fill with warmth; fuck, he’s cute. 

“I’m not drunk, dear heart, I’m tipsy,” Jaskier corrects him. One of those long, slender musician’s fingers is poking Geralt in the chest as he speaks. Then the younger man’s eyes widen and his hand flattens against the quarterback’s pectoral. Geralt flushes but Jaskier seems completely unperturbed by his own strange behavior (probably due to whatever he’s been drinking or smoking). “Wow. You’re...firm. Very strong feeling.”

“Football does that.”

“Oh right. You’re the team captain.”

“Mhm.”

Jaskier looks up at him with wide, baby blue eyes and gives him a dopey grin. Geralt’s heart pounds a little faster in his chest and he tries not to let his feelings show on his face. The younger man speaks again, slurring his words slightly as he does; “Wow, Geralt, I can’t believe I haven’t told you you’re so pretty, yet. I think about it all the time, you know. How pretty you are. White hair, honey-colored eyes, such broad and heroic shoulders...fuck me, you’re hot.”

“Let’s get you some water and get you home, yeah? I don’t want you throwing up on Casey Slaterman’s front porch tonight, Jask.”

Jaskier looks around the slowly dying party and nods, “Yeah, good idea.”

Geralt drives them both home and forces the underclassman to drink two full bottles of water. Enough to keep him from getting hungover, at least. The football player shoves his neighbor through his bedroom window and climbs in after him without waking up his parents, by some miracle. He lifts Jaskier into bed and covers him up with his Superman sheets, smirking to himself about his crush’s taste in comic characters. I guess Superman isn’t the least dynamic member of the DC pantheon...

If Geralt presses a gentle kiss to Jaskier’s sweaty forehead before climbing out the window and disappearing back into his own adjacent bedroom then nobody has to know. 

---

He can hear Jaskier crying as soon as he opens his bedroom window after coming home from practice. The usually cheerful brunette is sitting on the eave of his roof all alone. His arms are wrapped around the tops of his knees, pulling them tightly to his chest; his head is buried in those crossed arms. His shoulders are shaking with the force of his sobs and hiccups even as he tries to smother them. 

“Jask,” the older boy calls softly. “Are you okay? I mean, clearly you’re not, but do you want to talk about it?”

Those blue eyes snap in his direction, obviously startled by his sudden appearance. 

“Sorry,” the boy apologizes, “You usually stay later after practice on Fridays. I didn’t think anyone would hear me. I can go inside if I’m bothering you.”

"You’re not bothering me at all,” Geralt says quietly. Softly. “Do you need some moral support? I’m the team captain, after all; it’s kind of my job to offer moral support.” 

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“What do you need me to do?” 

Jaskier can see, even from this distance, that the older boy is being completely sincere. He sniffles and shrugs. “Wanna come over?”

“Sure.”

Jaskier’s heart leaps in his chest as he watches his handsome neighbor (and secret crush of nearly three months) gracefully descend from his own bedroom window and climb his way onto Jaskier’s roof. He seats himself nervously beside the sophomore and rests his hands behind him in order to lean comfortably back. 

“What’s bothering you?” Geralt asks, “Do you need me to beat someone up?”

“No,” Jaskier says, a small smile breaking through the tears. “But thank you for offering. You’d make a lovely knight in shining armor.”

“I’m no prince,” Geralt scoffs. Jaskier shrugs and seems to disappear even further into the neckline of his hoodie. He’s nervous, Geralt can tell. 

“Here,” Geralt tuts. He pulls the sleeve of his navy blue flannel down over his hand, out from beneath the sleeve of his jacket, and uses it to wipe away his neighbor’s tears. The younger boy’s cheeks are damp and flushed pink; he looks so incredibly sweet and vulnerable in this moment. Geralt is afraid to ruin it by saying something stupid so he just mutters, “You’re too nice to be crying so hard.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s stupid,” Jaskier argues. “Not worth talking about. I shouldn’t have even asked you to come over here. I know practices are hard and that you’re probably exhausted and just want to go to bed and I know that I’m just your neighbor and everything but tha-”

Geralt cuts him off by leaning over and pressing their lips together. Jaskier’s eyes go wide and round and his body stiffens but he doesn’t pull away. Geralt does, quickly. “Sorry!”

“Huh?” The sophomore is dazed. 

“I’m so sorry. I should have asked first but you just seemed so scared and you look so sweet with your hoodie like that and I-”

Now it’s Jaskier’s turn to interrupt him with a kiss. When they part this time they both chuckle softly. “So, I guess that answers a few of my questions.”

“Yeah,” Geralt nods. “Mine, too.”

Geralt wraps his Letterman's jacket around Jaskier’s shoulders when the younger boy starts to shiver in the chilly night air of early autumn and pretends not to see the surreptitious sniff Jaskier gives it. “Thanks.”

“Will you be at the game tomorrow?” Geralt asks, suddenly self-conscious. Jaskier puts his arms through the sleeves of the jacket and leans against Geralt’s side. The older boy puts a tentative arm around him and Jaskier scoots closer to make the message clear: Yes, like that. 

“Of course,” Jaskier nods. Geralt can’t help but lean up off of one hand. He uses it to push a stray lock of brown hair from the younger boy’s forehead. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I think my boyfriend is playing.”

“Is that what we are now, boyfriends?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier bites his lip oh-so-cutely and shrugs again, “Maybe. If you want.”

Geralt stares deeply into those baby blue eyes and smiles widely. “Yeah. I want.”

[lovelyrita1967]

Jitters ☕ 💕

Geraskier coffee shop AU

Jaskier was just another aspiring musician working in a coffee shop. He was good with people and liked working with his best friend, Triss, but mostly he hated the soul-crushing, mind-numbing “What can I get you?” patter, and being expected to smile into the face of disdain, or worse, indifference.

He stuck it out because this shop was quirky and cozy, and, even better, it had live music on Thursday nights. He was working on convincing the owner, Calanthe, to give him a chance. Calanthe didn’t like being told what to do, or even the merest suggestion that one was doing so. She had really missed her calling as an army general, or perhaps warrior queen. So far Jaskier had been met with a hard no, despite texting her the most lovely of demos. But he could see the cracks appearing, if only because he knew Calanthe would cave before he did. She took no shit, but Jaskier was young, charming, and had nowhere else to be.

In the meantime, it was another dreary Monday morning with Triss next to him at the till. He was dying to tell her about the sex god he had hooked up with Saturday night, but he had run in the door almost late (almost) and there had been a constant stream of customers since.

“What are you so smug about?” she whispered to him hastily, catching a moment when a customer was slow to put their change away.

Jaskier looked at her and wiggled his eyebrows, doing his best “cat that ate the canary” look.

She rolled her eyes at him fondly. He was about to go so far as to wink a bright blue eye at her, when he suddenly felt a rather large presence looming on the other side of the counter. (Was it looming? Yes, there was definite looming. This man actually seemed to block out some of the light filtering in through the large front windows).

Jaskier turned and found himself looking up into the face of the most beautiful human being he had ever seen in his life. He felt his jaw drop, his cheeks flush a fiery red, and, had he been a cartoon, his eyes most certainly would have done that “boing-oing-oing” thing.

The man was a little taller than Jaskier, very much broader, and couldn’t have been more than 40 despite the long silver-white hair partially pulled back from his face. His eyes were an unusual shade of light brown that Jaskier could only describe as golden, and he was wearing a fitted charcoal grey dress shirt with buttons straining to maintain respectability across his massive chest.

Fortunately, the man was glaring intently at the menu board above and Jaskier had a few seconds to get his shit together, assisted by a kick to his ankle from Triss.

Yup, he was definitely gawking.

“Good morning!” Jaskier announced, perhaps a little too loudly, eyes a little too wide. “What can I get for you, sir?”

The man met Jaskier’s gaze, and he felt his cheeks burn even hotter. What was happening to him?

“Double espresso, to go. Please,” he rumbled, in the deepest, sexiest voice Jaskier had ever heard.

“Absolutely! One double espresso coming right up! Can I get a name?”

“Geralt.” This man’s picture could be in the dictionary next to ‘intense’. His gaze was heavy, his jaw cut from granite, forehead furrowed.

“Geralt! Thank you!” Dear gods, why am I yelling? “$2.85, please.”

As Geralt handed him a five, Jaskier could sense Triss smirking. Geralt shook his head at the offered change, said thank you, and moved down the counter to wait for his drink.

Jaskier flashed a wide-eyed glance at Triss which he hoped said something like “holy fuck”, and did his best to give his undivided attention to the harried mother who was next in line, her children wrapped around her legs.

He took her order, winking at the kids, but managed to shoot several glances Geralt’s way. Geralt was frowning down at his phone, seemingly annoyed. Jaskier wondered if Geralt’s hands were strong enough to simply crush his phone should the urge strike him. He imagined what it would feel like to have those hands sliding down his-

“Ow!” he yelped when Triss kicked him again. Jaskier took a deep breath and turned to the next customer with a slightly manic smile. By the time he was finished taking the order, Geralt was leaving, drink in hand.

Jaskier watched those muscled shoulders and that narrow waist leave the shop. Triss was watching him with a full-on grin.

“That’s it? You’re just going to let him leave?”

Jaskier sighed, his stomach still swirling from the shock of being faced with such chiseled beauty.

“I don’t even know if he’s gay. If it’s meant to be, he’ll come back. Destiny will bring Geralt back to me.”

* * * *

Destiny was a fucking bitch.

It had been four more days with no sign of that silver hair or those golden eyes. Jaskier didn’t want to admit how much time he had spent thinking about Geralt, but it was definitely an unhealthy amount, considering they had exchanged about 20 words for a coffee order. Jaskier had convinced himself that it was ridiculous and he hadn’t even really been that hot. Except yes he fucking was.

His Friday shift was wrapping up and the shop was slowing down. Jaskier’s thoughts turned to his plans for the night. Maybe he would text the sex god from last weekend… although now compared to Geralt he seemed - OH, MY GODS, STOP.

As Jaskier blinked himself to the present, he saw Triss staring at him. Her eyes widened and she jerked her head at the door.

Jaskier turned and felt his heart leap into his throat at the sight of that golden gaze.

Geralt.  

Jaskier saw Triss suddenly looking very busy wiping down the back counter, leaving him open to take Geralt’s order. He nervously ran his fingers through his wavy brown hair and turned his smile up to dazzling as Geralt approached. He was wearing another fitted dress shirt - textured light grey this time - with impossibly perfect slacks.

Jaskier did not imagine just for a second what his ass might look like.

“Good afternoon, Geralt…” Fuck, is it creepy that I remembered his name? “It was Geralt, wasn’t it?” he added, lamely, hoping the feigned uncertainty would forestall any serial killer alarm bells.

Geralt looked a little surprised for a brief moment, but his features smoothed over as he said, “Yes, that’s right. Double espresso to go, please…. Jaskier.” His eyes flicked to Jaskier’s name tag. Jaskier couldn’t help but feel a thrill at those luscious lips uttering his name, and it must have had a galvanizing effect on him.

“That will be $2.85, please.” He took a deep breath as Geralt handed him a five. “Do you work around here?”

Geralt’s brow quirked as he again shook his head for the offered change.

“Yes, I just started working across the street.”

“Oh, well, welcome to the neighbourhood!” Jaskier could hear his heart hammering in his ears. He smiled his best sexy-but-not-aggressively-so smile as Geralt nodded at him and moved down the counter.

Jaskier kept pretend-busy around the till, shooting furtive glances at Geralt until he turned to leave with his coffee. Jaskier was definitely not checking out that tight ass when Geralt glanced back at him on his way out the door. Their eyes locked and the corner of Geralt’s mouth lifted the tiniest bit in an almost smile.

Jaskier did not text the sex god that weekend.

* * * * 

Read the rest on AO3! (7k, T)

(Sorry if you’ve seen this before! I just have so many new followers and Jitters is my oldest so I thought maybe some of you hadn’t seen it yet.) @oxbridge-quality-fanfiction-co @ro-the-bard-writer @carmillacarmine @ikeptupwiththejoneses @rawrkinjd @fangirleaconmigo @jaskierswolf @lottelorelei @valdomarx @swx3detfgy-blog @gilbert-von-kneecap @sharingfandomsilove @tossacointoyourcostumedesigner @chaotic-bard @gosh-diddley-darnit @benisalilbitch @distractedbyfandoms @bardic-charm @marvagon @bastardofmothman @watchthewolvesfall @panerato @fontegagrilledcheese @loners-loathing @ewanspotter

Thanks for the reblogs and AO3 comments fam 🥰🥰🥰

[itsmoonphobic]

Since so many poeple liked my sleepy bois royal au I wanted to share a little one shot of the best bois :3 Also feel free to share your own headcanons and if you want you can make fanart!Just make sure to credit and tag me when you post something related to it!I appreciate every single one of you for the amount of positive feedback I have been receiving!!Love you all!Oh and the first chapter is going to be released soon on ao3! I will also be reconsidering the idea of posting it here on tumblr after a request to do so!👀

👑"Golden Fingerprints"👑

The blond boy stopped dangling his legs and slowly looked at the pink haired king infront of him.Techno's back was facing Tommy while the exhausted king struggled to keep his eyes open.His fingers slowly pushed up his loosely hung glasses that have fallen on the bridge of his nose.Techno didn't even take the slightest notice of the younger boy burning holes at the back of his head.He was too focused and way too tired to pay attention to anything happening around him.Tommy had bugged the elder if he was allowed to help him with his work,which Techno hesitantly agreed with as along as Tommy took it seriously.

Unsurprisingly Tommy couldn't focus for more than ten minutes so he just decided to hang around in Techno's room while the king took care of his tasks.Both Wilbur and Phil came to check on them and when they witnessed Techno groggily sitting at his desk and practically banging his head against the pile of papers and books forming on the dark oak table,they shared a simple amused glance and left the two alone.Not before Wil teased Tommy about him being so wild and unfocused,which resulted in Tommy almost charging at Wilbur and starting a huge ass fight. The warning look from Phil managed to stop both of them.

Tommy eyed the older man carefully.How is he able to pull himself together and stay focused for over four hours? The younger boy truly admired the king in every way possible, though he did also feel the slightest bit of jealousy.A small yawn brought Tommy out of his thoughts.He watched as the pink haired man took of his glasses and messily rubbed his face while groaning loudly.Tommy didn't say anything, he expected Techno to turn around and send him out of his room so he could relax in peace but instead Techno took off his crown and set it aside laying down his head on the hard surface of the wooden platform.

The much needed sleep immediately took over his senses and the pink haired King drifted off into a deep slumber. Tommy could only wonder if it is a dreamless one or not.He wasn't sure why Techno didn't send him out,did he forget that Tommy was still in the same room??Pushing his thoughts aside Tommy let his eyes wonder to the golden object next to the now sleeping Techno.The gold shimmerd under the pale illuminating light of the sun.The different colored jewels reflected themselves brightly.

A sneaky idea popped into Tommy's head as he propped himself up and precisely snuck over to the king's desk. Tommy lightly waved his hand infront of Techno's closed eyes to make sure that he did indeed fall asleep and not only taking a small break.Shallow and steady breathing confirmed that the king was in fact sleeping.Tommy tried his best not to break out into a fit of laughter as he continued with his plan.

He grazed his fingers along the heavy jewelry piece and gently took it in his hands.Tommy took a moment to quietly admire the object he was holding.It was heavier than he had imagined it to be but it was definitely screaming power and glory.The blue eyed boy glanced in Techno's direction one more time before quickly walking over to the door and closing it silently behind him.A wide grin tugged at his thin lips once he actually processed what was happening.

Techn-The king's crown was located in his grip.Tommy leaned his back against the desk matching oak door and took in all the details and features of the golden beauty.He noticed a small crack and a missing piece in two different gems.Tommy wondered what situations caused this.He snorted at the thought of Techno doing something as stupid like dropping it or tripping and making it fall.But he simply couldn't accept those facts so instead he imagined him having some sort of epic battle in which he turned out victorious.

"And what exactly are you planning to do with that?"

Tommy jumped at the sudden voice nearly dropping the important object.The younger turned his head to the direction of the familiar voice.His blue eyes landed on none other then musician boy,Wilbur.Tommy rolled his eyes proudly holding the crown infront of him.

"None of your buisness guitar boy-" Tommy retorted already trying to leave the scene.Wilbur on the other hand, was about to stop him but the wish to see the king's reaction to his missing crown would be priceless-

"Whatever you say." Wilbur reassured.Tommy eyed him suspiciously as the older simply shrugged and turned on his heels,Tommy followed his movements but after Wil turned a corner he kept going,the golden head piece safely secured in a tight grip.

~👑~

His dark blue eyes(Fun fact Techno actually said that his eyes are indeed blue but they appear darker in different lightning!)fluttered open,the sun that was slowly disappearing behind the mountain horizons stinging his sight.Techno shut his eyes once again,this time not peacefully like he did before but reflexively and annoyingly. He adjusted his vision to the bright star and yawned loudly. His eyes fell apon the mess of books and papers on his desk where he just rose his head of.He cringed as he remembered how he fell asleep even though he didn't finish all of it.Techno's eyes scanned the room once his mind registered that Tommy was in his room during all of it.

After finding no signs of the younger in his room the pink haired ruler figured out that Tommy himself must have gotten bored and tired and left to sleep.He sleepily got up and stretched his tired limbs,the sound of him cracking his joints following right behind.That was another bad habit Techno happend to do on a daily basis,and Phil constantly had to remind him that it's unhealthy.

Techno was about to grab his beloved crown and return it where it belongs to put his palm was met with an empty surface.He blinked in disbelief as he clearly remembered that he placed it there before sleep took over.Nervousness washed over him as he started searching for his crown all over his room.Under the desk,on his bookshelves,maybe under the bed aswell?But the golden object was no where to be found- Techno started to panic.Where was it?Did someone steal it?The pink haired king clutched his fists, slamming both of them against the wooden desk making some of the books and papers fall off.

A soft knock on Techno's door made the king snap his head in the direction towards the sound.A small "come in" escaped his mouth as he waited for the person to step foot inside his bedroom.Phil's head poked inside first,he wanted to make sure not to be too hasty around his friend.

"Hey man,just wanted to check up on you."

Techno forced a smile onto his face but the constant thought of his crown being stolen kept him from doing so. Phil noticed his strange behavior and walked over to him. He gently placed his hand on Techno's shoulders and immediately feeling the tension in them.Techno twitched slightly at the sudden contact of another person but didn't make any movements to stop Phil from touching him.

"You okay man?There is so much tension in your shoulders"

Techno looked at Phil with frustrated eyes:"My crown is gone,someone stole my crown Phil."He made sure to clarify the part about it being stolen specifically.Phil blinked in suprised as he took in what his best friend just told him.

"Was there somebody else in the room with you when you took it off?"Phil questioned already preparing to set off and look for the thief.Both Techno and he were going to make them pay for stealing the crown of the king.Techno shook his head:"I'm pretty sure that no one except Tommy was in the roo-"He stopped mid sentence,eyes widening.The angry king threw on his crimson cloak with the faux white fur decorating it.Phil watched with confusion but also interest as he slowly caught on to where Techno was heading.

"You don't actually believe Tommy stole it do you?" Phil asked his best friend as they walked side by side through the castle halls.Techno's stern gaze was focused infront of him,but he still answered Phil's question while the older laughed at the thought of Tommy stealing Techno's crown. He has to admit,he would be pretty impressed if the younger boy actually managed to pull that off without Techno killing him,which Techno would obviously never even attempt but still,pretty funny to think about.

"Who else is stupid enough to do something like that Phil?"

Phil's laughter came to a stop when he realized that Techno might be right about this situation. "Holy shit you might be right about this-" Phil muttered in amusement.Techno only rolled his eyes gathering around a few of his royal guards, including Phil,and made sure to tell them that they need to start a carriage to take him down town,becouse Techno already had a pretty good feeling where Tommy might have went to brag about it.

~👑~

"Holy fuck!How did you manage to get that thing!?"

"Tommy this is insane!How did you get you hands on it!?"

"Did you actually sneak in the castle or some shit like that?"

"The king probably wants you with a bounty on your head-"

Tommy only smirked,gladly welcoming all of the compliments and awestruck questions coming his way.On top of his head he proudly presented the king's crown,his pride and joy that Tommy managed to steal.He knew very well though that if Techno finds out he could only hope and pray that he stays alive long enough to explain himself.A shudder ran down his spine as he was't interested in dealing with a mad King Blade.He never saw him truly angry,but his stolen crown is properly a good reason for it to happen.

"Guys guys,please one after another!I'll answer all of your questions gladly!"

Tommy wanted to carry on with his attention shower but he only received terrified expressions and silence.

"Guys?Hellooooo?" He waved his hands infront of their faces,but their eyes were focused on something apparently more coller than the king's crown.Tommy's best friend Toby stepped slightly forward grabbing the blond boy by his shoulders and turning him around.

Tommy found himself staying perfectly still.His muscles tensed and his heart started to pound,it felt as it was about to burst out of his chest.He swallowed hard and released a shaky breath he didn't know he was holding in.His trembling hands slowly wandered to his mop of blond fluff and he lightly removed the golden object away from it.He chuckled nervously as he felt the scary glare coming from the pink haired royalty.Techno stood now infront of the blond boy tapping his foot on the dusty ground impatiently. His hands were crossed over his chest and his brows were furrowed together.His eyes glued themselves onto Tommy, more precisely the golden crown in his hands.

Phil stood next to Techno shaking his head amused at the clearly awkward and scary tension between the two men.All the other guards stood a few feet away next to carriage watching and waiting patiently for their king to make his next move or atleast to let out a few words Techno watched Tommy twirl his foot into the dirty ground avoiding his gaze.The king lightly shook his head at the immature acts of Tommy but then again he was only sixteen years young and had alot to learn and witness for him to decide the correct decisions.

"Tommy." Techno warned,his deep and raspy voice dangerously low.Tommy shivered at the scary tone the king used on him.His pale blue eyes locked with Techno's deep blue ones."Technoo!How's it going buddy!How did you sleep?" Tommy questioned the elder with a crooked grin. All of Tommy's friends watched in horror at the way he addressed the king himself so nonchalantly by his birth name.They kept telling him to apologize if he doesn't wanna end up six feet under or even worse,and the fact that he was still holding his crown made it even worse.

Tommy quickly turned to his friends reassuring them that he's "got this" and "no need to worry".Techno still waited for Tommy to make the first move and step closer,but it was very clear that the poor boy was afraid to move,but he somehow still had the guts to talk so casually with him but that didn't really bother Techno since he allowed Tommy to talk to him in that way.The pink haired man sighed,pinching the bridge of his nose together."Tommy if you give me the crown now I'll let you of the hook,okay?" Techno smirked.

Tommy's eyes widened and he cautiously eyed him up and down while carefully taking a few steps towards the king. He was now standing directly infront of Techno with him towering atleast 2 heads over him.Techno held out his hand while Tommy shamefully handed over the golden crown. Techno smiled happily as he admired the crown now back in his hands.He trailed over all the cracks and jewels relaxing after receiving it back the way he remembered it.

Tommy looked at the ground still managing to catch as Techno excitingly placed the crown on his pink hair.The king's chest rose proudly at the feeling of his power sign. Tommy internally rolled his eyes becouse he knew that doing that would ruin the atmosphere even more.Phil only continued to watch them fully caught up by the amusement that he didn't notice the king smacking Tommy at the back of his head causing the younger to yelp.

"What in the world were you thinking?!" Techno asked him seriously upset.Tommy rubbed his aching neck from the hard slap on it.He shrugged and explained that he wanted to show it off to his friends.Techno could have already figured that the reason behind the things Tommy does are usually brainless and simple.He sighed and whispered something to Phil.Phil laughed lightly and nodded.He turned to his coworkers and shouted that they should get the horses ready to carry them back to the castle.Phil patted Techno on the shoulder and winked at Tommy while he walked over to the carriage and stepped inside.

Everyone was waiting for Techno and Tommy to return so they could get going,which didn't take long.Tommy excused himself from his friends and started walking towards the vehicle,Techno following suit.All the kids watched in shock as Tommy carelessly jumped in the carriage and talked to the guards.Toby waved at him as the horses started moving yelling to Tommy that he should visit them again tomorrow.Tommy frinned widely yelling back that he totally will.

The ride back to the castle was like always.Techno couldn't stay mad at Tommy for long.Like I said(I just broke the fourth wall upps-)he has a soft spot for children.And since he has a special bond with Tommy and treats him as his own son he can't act the way his father did with him.Techno made Tommy promise him to ask for his permission before he took the crown and that he could only wear it around the castle and not through the whole tavern.Tommy happily agreed to the rules and pinky promised him to always ask Techno for the golden piece of jewelry before taking it.

The king,the gaurd and the misfit all carried on with their conversations,mostly just Tommy ranting on about his day and how he was shocked at the amount of focus ability has even due to him having adhd.Techno would tease Tommy back always coming up with a great comeback which made Phil laugh hysterically.Tommy couldn't help the smile on his face even if the teasing comeback was for him.His blue eyes lit up once he saw the crown restored on his original owners head.It was as if the crown was ment for his head. Tommy looked out the carriage window quietly listening to the running hooves of the horses and the chatter between the king and his guard.

The only thing on the crown that Tommy left behind were now his golden fingertips.

THIS TOOK WAAAAAY TO LONG!But It was definitely worth it!I hope you guys enjoyed this little one shot I wrote!Like I said I'm currently working on the first official chapter of the fanfic so this was only a little side project.The chapter release will probably take a while since my family and I just moved houses and we are still pretty busy!!👑☀️ I'll do my best though and keep you updated!!Love u <3

[psych0midget]

Music Soulmate AU

I basically just rewrote this from Andrew’s POV

The first time Andrew hears what is soulmate is listening to he is in juvie.

In juvie they encourage troubled youths to listen to music. He has a radio and “free” access to a computer. But the music radios pass on is not exactly of his liking. And it’s not like he can surf the internet however he likes, not when the internet is controlled and censored.

To be honest, he’d never even thought he might enjoy music before his soulmate. His soulmate has good music taste.

Thanks to Pig Higgs he has landed in a juvie with plenty of rehabilitation programmes. He’d gladly avoid joining any of them, but his counsellor made it compulsory.

And so Andrew choses the music programme. That’s how he larns to play the guitar- just so he can play the songs his soulmate listens to.

It’s only when he gets out of juvie that he finally finds out the names of the bands and musicians his soulmate listens to. He buys their cds, downloads their songs, goes to their concerts and listens to them 24/7.

Out of juvie he also finds out that he has a twin brother who plays the drums and a cousin who plays the piano. And what is he even supposed to do with a brother he knows nothing about but start playing music together?

At first it’s mainly covers. Aaron sets the rhythm and Andrew strums his guitar. It’s quiet and slow, like their uneasy friendship. The more they get comfortable with each other the better they play together.

It’s only when their cousin Nicky walks into them playing an instrumental cover of The Ghost of You by MCR that he decides to join them. Nicky ditches his piano, buys a keybord and becomes an official member of their unofficial band. 

The first time Andrew does the vocals of one of their covers, both Nicky and Aaron hit the wrong notes and then stop playing altogether, staring at Andrew with their mouths wide open.

It’s Aaron who breaks the silence with a screeched “you’ve always known how to sing LIKE THAT and you’ve never done it before?”. Andrew just shrugs, but from that moment on he becomes the designated singer.

Their unofficial band becomes official when Kevin Day joins the line up. He plays the bass, but most importantly he writes songs. And good damn songs. Plus his father Wymack owns an independent music label and he signs them.

Even with a contract in their pocket, Andrew and his band (now called The Foxhole, who even knows why, it was Nicky’s idea) have to cut their teeth. They slowly work up the ladder one little concert after the other. It is exhausting.

Andrew hadn’t signed up for crazied fans when he’d started playing the guitar with his brother in the attempt of making up for 14 years of being convinced they both were alone in this world. But at least the fans are growing the more and more numerous.

Last week they filled a small arena with 5 thousand people in LA. The posters outside the venue said “The Foxhole, SOLD OUT.” After the show Wymack had smiled proudly and told them that the recording studio would be booked for them all month long.

And that. That is one hell of a month. Andrew loses count of how many times he thinks about breaking Kevin’s hand.

But through the caos, the deadlines, and the mind-numbing recording sessions, Andrew has - well Andrew doesn’t have his soulmate. Not with him anyway. But he has a good playlist to come back to when he gets home.

He knows at what time his soulmate turns on his mp3 player. And every evening at 8pm Andrew takes one hour just for himself, sits on the sofa and religiously listens to the playlist his soulmate is playing. It’s a habit he took up in juvie, a habit he would never give up to.

The Foxhole’s first album jumps straight to the first position of the Alternative Music chart. Right on the day it comes out.

When they get the news Nicky is so ecstatic he jumps on the sofa like a child. Aaron hugs his girlfriend, lifts her up and makes her spin in the kitchen as they laugh and laugh and laugh. Kevin just smiles, which is quite shocking per se.

Andrew’s heart skips a beat only when at 8pm he hears his soulmate listening to The Foxhole’s album. And at that, just at that, his lips slowly curl up into a smile.

After that, Andrew’s life gets the more and more chaotic. It’s shows and interviews and world tours. It’s trying to set an alarm at 8pm even when he barely has time to breathe just to listen to a couple of songs from his soulmate’s evening music session.

It’s waking up at 5am when in Paris and cursing the European tour. And then it’s missing it. Missing it when he crashes on the couch and his meds take too much out of him. It’s having The Foxhole’s concerts set at 8pm.

It’s Andrew secretly hoping his soulmate listens to his concerts because Andrew can’t listen to his playlists. It’s Andrew wishing he’d stop hoping his soulmate would come find him after a concert.

Andrew is taken off his court-mandated meds during the pause between their last tour and the new album. The drug-induced mania wears off, leaving Andrew alone, parsing through the white noise in his brain and the thoughts that won’t leave him alone. Never never never.

One night he’s so drained out by the effort of overcoming his addiction and getting used to the new way is brain is wired, he falls asleep on the sofa before 8pm.

He wakes up at 2am, angry and frustrated and pissed off he’s missed his soulmate’s daily playlist. And if Andrew, frustrated beyond words, picks up his guitar and starts trying to put his thoughts into notes nobody has to know.

It’s not like Kevin will judge if he finds out. Kevin himself started composing to fight his own alcoholism.

But nobody really has to know. Not even when Andrew makes a habit of it. Picking up his guitar and humming along with the music he plays- trying to figure out what sounds right and what doesn’t. What eases the pressure on his skull, what makes his head hurt even more.

Nobody has to know, but he kinds of forgets that his soulmate *does* know. And Andrew tries so hard not to react. But when in the morning he hears his soulmate singing along to his new song, Andrew finds himself smiling. Andrew is sooo fucked.

Let’s not even talk about the somersaults his stomach makes when his soulmate starts playing awful upbeat songs whenever Andrew stops composing. He hates those songs, thanks but no thanks.

But his soulmate annoyingly persists pestering him with happy songs. And Andrew gets what his soulmate is doing, he knows his soulmate is doing his best to show him he likes what he’s doing, he gets it, he’s just not ready to admit it to himself.

He ends up telling Aaron. And it’s just because he needs to have someone else play with him. Just to test out a few things. Not because it’s Aaron.

Aaron who disgustingly smiles at him when Andrew shows him what he has composed. Aaron who knows he has a soulmate. Aaron who asks “it’s him isn’t it?” when Andrew puts his hands in his hair because his soulmate is listening to one of his sickening upbeat songs.

Aaron who tells Kevin. Fuck you Aaron.

Andrew knows Kevin would happily crack his head open if he didn’t need a singer and guitarist. He hears him mutter something like “that fucker knew how to compose and he never said anything before”.

They end up rehearsing the song together. First it’s just Aaron and Andrew showing Kevin and Nicky the ropes, then it’s the whole band. And if the smile on Kevin’s lips is any indication, the song is good. Damn good.

They end up including it in the new album. And Andrew is okay with it. But then Wymack hears it and decides it’s going to be the single paving the way for the album. Andrew doesn’t want to, it’s *his* song, it’s something he’d come to share with his soulmate and his soulmate alone.

He was happy with it becoming part of the album. He had anticipated how it’d feel like to hear his soulmate listening to their album and recognising the song. He had not anticipated the song becoming mainstream.

But he says yes to Wymack. He owes him that much. He still decides to do things his own way.

The Foxhole are supposed to debut the song during the first concert of their promotional tour. It’s Kevin who usually does the talking, but before he can start presenting the new single Andrew snatches the mic.

He feels Kevin’s eyes drill holes in his head when he says why he wrote the song, why he recorded it and- and that’s all because he has an annoying soulmate who supports him. And when he finishes Aaron is smiling (fuck you Aaron) and Nicky is staring at him with his mouth open.

If the screams and the yells and the choruses asking for an encore are any indication, the crowd loves the song. Andrew doesn’t care. His head is screaming “now he knows now he know now he knows”. And who would ever want to have anything to do with him. He’s fucked up. Oh he’s fucked it all up.

He grits his teeth through the concert, trying to prevent the walls in his head from crumbling down right in front of thousands of people. He regrets saying it but he misses his meds. They made this part easier, they didn’t let him dwell and spiral down into chaos.

When the show finishes he knows what’s waiting for him. A wall of fans screaming to his face that they are his soulmate- Aaron had warned him about it when Andrew had told him what he’d planned on doing.

He locks the door of his changing room and tires to breathe through the panic choking him. Just a few more minutes and then he’ll get out, face the fans and the media and the mess. He did this to himself. Just a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes- but the door of his changing room is thrown wide open. The intruder closes it back behind his back and presses his body against it to keep the door shut.

Andrew barely manages to say “What the fuck?”

“Lock picks!” the guy throws them a him. Andrew effortlessly catches them one-handed. The intruder flashes him a smile so bright it can’t be real. Just like the red curls and the blue eyes and everything else about him. Who the fuck is this man?

As if he’s reading into his mind, he says “Don’t worry your bodyguards will be here in a sec.” Another smile.

Andrew barely has time to open his mouth and reply when the bodyguards come crashing into Andrew’s changing room. And right then the stranger says: “By the way, I’m Neil and in the morning you always listen to Welcome to the Black Parade. Nice to meet you soulmate.”

[ibuki-says]

Stunned Silence

Pairing: Mikan Tsumiki x Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

Rating: PG-13 - Just cursing 

Word Count: 1,180

Spoilers?: None! Non-despair AU 

Prompt: “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

A nurse’s job is to help people. That was pretty much all Mikan Tsumiki assumed she was good for. As long as she was there to patch her friends up, there was no way they could hate her! She wore this badge on her apron with pride every time one of her friends ambled into the office while she was working. Of course, there was the official ‘school nurse,’ but Mikan helped just as much, especially when she wasn’t available! Flitting from friend to friend, offering band-aids and kind words of reassurance, Mikan always felt content. Unfortunately, not all of them were so accepting of her assistance. 

“Ibuki, if you are going to unnecessarily drag the Supreme Overlord of Ice out to eat lunch with you mortals, I advise you turn down the amplifier. Lest you want the Four Dark Devas of Destruction to rain hellfire upon you and your instrument!” The lunch table was as lively as ever, a soft smile played on Mikan’s lips as she watched the four hamsters from under Gundham’s scarf. It was always difficult to get everyone together for times like this, but it made her really happy when they were able to. Despite his eccentric ways of speaking, she grew to learn that in the end, he was simply worried for their health. Evidently, not everyone saw it that way as Kazuichi rolled his eyes from across the table. 

“C’mon man! Don’t be such a spoilsport! Let her play her music!” He defended the musician, leaning forward in his seat. Worried about the tensions rising even more, or even worse, things breaking out into a fight, Mikan shyly raised her hand. “U-um, proper care of your ears is important for humans too….not just hamsters.” She quietly spoke up, though feeling tears begin to well in her eyes as everyone stared at her. 

“Oooooo, gotcha Mikan!! Haha, Ibuki forgot this wasn’t a stage...or a concert.” Ibuki chuckled as she lowered the volume of the amp, thus seemingly diffusing the tension at the table as well. However, as lunch progressed, an absence in the group became glaringly obvious. 

“Hey...does anyone know where Fuyuhiko is?” Hajime piped up, finally stating the elephant in the room. In an instant, almost all eyes at the table turned to Peko, who seemed to accompany the short blonde yakuza wherever he went. Seeming uncomfortable with the sudden attention, she flushed in her seat. 

“I apologize. I have about a good of an idea of where he is as you all.” She stated before returning to her food. An uneasy silence fell over the group as they pondered the whereabouts of their missing friend. As the saying goes, speak of the devil and he shall appear-

“Ah, Fuyuhiko! We were all so worried!” Nagito cheerfully exclaimed, causing the rest of the group to turn towards where he was looking. Mikan almost fell out of her chair noticing the state of him. His suit was disheveled and there were numerous cuts and bruises peppering his form. He scowled at them as he shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“What are you all fuckin’ staring at? Didn’t have time to stop home, not that fuckin’ suprising.” He practically snarled, clearing hating the attention that was suddenly thrust on him. Despite her better judgement, Mikan’s nature as a nurse overcame her as she felt herself standing and rushing to Fuyuhiko’s side. 

“Please let me treat your wounds!” She stated, rather than asking, already beginning to look over all of them. Reacting almost as if she was toxic, Fuyuhiko immediately jerked away. 

“I’m fine!” He brushed her off, turning away from the nurse. Not being able to shake her concern, Mikan attempted to move once again in his view. 

“Even the smallest cuts can become infected and cause major problems! I-I still think it’s important!” She pleaded, hoping he would see reason and allow her to help him. 

“I said I’m fucking fine!” He snapped, pulling away from her more aggressively this time. With that, silence fell over the lunch table once more, Mikan especially looked at him with wide-eyed shock. She never would have pushed if he didn’t have a history of relenting and allowing her to treat him. The tension in the air was palpable as not even any of the Devas dared make a squeak. Fuyuhiko’s furious expression seemed to falter for just a moment before scoffing and stalking off. After a beat or two more of stunned silence, the lunchtime conversation gradually began again, whether it be speaking of the incident that just occured or quickly changing the subject. However, Mikan couldn’t bring herself to move. She was barely able to react, even to cry, and simply stared blankly at Fuyuhiko’s retreating form. 

By the end of the day, the incident still weighed heavily on Mikan’s mind. Throughout the day, several of her classmates had dropped in, whether it be needing help or to simply spend some time with the fragile nurse. Even Hiyoko had offered a word or two of...sympathy? Honestly, refraining from calling Mikan a trashy pigshit was practically charity when it came to the foul-mouthed blonde. Mikan kept herself busy even when students weren’t there, a feeble attempt occupy her mind with thoughts other than self deprecating ones associated with her failure to help a classmate earlier. She was putting away some student medical files when she heard the old door creak open once more. She immediately turned with a soft smile on her face, on that immediately dropped when she noticed who had come to visit her. The person letting the door close behind him and was now alone in her office with her was none other than Fuyuhiko. For a moment, no one said anything.

“U-um, Fuyuhiko? Is something wrong?” Mikan asked gently, nervously wringing her hands as she waited for the blonde yakuza to speak. Letting out a sigh, Fuyuhiko made his way to one of the cots and sat, Mikan cautiously following him with her eyes, not allowing herself to move quite yet. 

“I just- I’m- Fuck.” He was clearly struggling with his words, fiddling with his tie in frustration. “I’m...I’m sorry I yelled at you. You were just trying to help, and I took my anger out on you.” After speaking, he turned his attention away from his tie and looked up to her. For a moment, Mikan simply had to process this. An apology was one of the last things she had expected to come out of an heir to a yakuza’s mouth. To her no less. After a beat, she gave him a gentle smile. “I forgive you.” She simply stated as she watched his posture almost instantly become less tense. “Now will you...will you allow me to treat your wounds?” A genuine smile cracked though Fuyuhiko’s tough exterior as he nodded. The tension in the air had completely evaporated by the time Mikan arrived back to the cot with the supplies she needed. “Hold still. I’ll have you all cleaned up in no time.”

[calpalirwin]

Life in Apartment 4D

Summary: 2 musicians become roommates with a writer and a photographer. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: @philthepegacorn​ and I are whores for Mashton. Because fuckin’ duh. A bit of a New Girl AU.

Word Count: 4.7k

And away, and away we go!

__

“Oh, c’mon!” Abigail cursed as the shower spurted water before stopping. “Dani!” the woman hollered.

“Yeah?” was the answer from somewhere else in the apartment.

“We paid the water bill right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Are they doing maintenance?”

“No idea,” Danielle’s voice sounded closer as she appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. “Why, what’s up?”

“Watch,” Abigail answered through gritted teeth, twisting the shower on.

“What the fuck?!” Danielle asked in aggravated shock when nothing happened.

“Time to move?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“Where?”

Danielle sighed. “No fuckin’ idea.”

Abigail brought a finger to her lips in thought. “Hmm… Oh! Eh, nah, nevermind. That won’t work.”

“What won’t work?”

“This guy I went to high school with. He posted something the other day about him and his roommate looking for someone.”

“And why won’t that work?”

“You really wanna live with 2 guys?”

“Are they cute?”

Abigail’s cheeks flushed pink. “No comment.”

“Oooo, you’re blushing! So high school boy and his roommate are cute! Or at least high school boy is. So what's the problem exactly? They need roommates, and we need a place to live.”

“Cuz we barely talked in high school. Like we were in the same grade, and shared some classes. But it’s not like we were friends or anything.”

“Aw, was he the cool kid, and you were the nerd? How adorable!” Danielle teased her friend.

“Hey!” Abigail gasped with mock indignation. “I could’ve been the cool one.”

“Mhm, sure ya were,” Danielle continued to tease. “You forget I’ve seen your yearbooks.”

“Okay,” Abigail relented. “I wasn’t the cool kid. But he wasn’t either? Like we were both dweebs. Just different camps.”

“Didn’t stop you from crushing on him though.”

“No, it did not,” Abigail laughed, remembering her high school days with a soft fondness. “But it didn’t matter. We were friendly with each other, sure. But we weren’t close. Certainly not close enough for me to call him up, and be his roommate.”

“Who said you had to call? Just send him a message.”

“Ugh, I hate you…” Abigail groaned, but reached for her phone anyway.

“Oh, you love this, don’t lie.”

~~~

Ashton’s palms were sweaty as he paced about the living room. “Would you relax?” Michael asked, exasperated. “You said she was a cool girl, right?”

“Yeah, from what I remember. But I haven’t seen her in eight years. And it’s not like we were friends. Friendly, but not friends.”

“You had a crush on her, you mean?”

Ashton shrugged, a sheepish look crossing his features. “A little yeah,” he fessed up.

“Please don’t fuck our potential new roommate…”

Ashton’s eyes went wide, and he was about to berate his friend for insinuating such a thing, but was cut off by a knock on the door. “That’s them!” He wiped his palms against his jeans to dry them as he rushed to the door.

Michael sat up straighter on the couch. “Them?”

“Yeah, she has a roommate.” Ashton ran his fingers through his hair, giving it a devil-may-care disheveled look, before pulling the door open. “H-hey.” His greeting got caught in his throat as he looked at the woman in front of him, comparing her with the girl he remembered.

“Hey,” Abigail smiled hesitantly, analyzing Ashton in a similar fashion. “Um, this is my friend, Dani. Dani, this is Ashton. And you must be Michael?” Her teeth nipped into her lower lip as she glanced over to the green-eyed blonde still seated on the couch.

“Yep. Nice to meet ya girls. C’mon in.”

At Michael’s instruction, Ashton snapped out of his haze with a clearing of his throat. “Yeah, please. C’mon in. Have a seat.”

“Roomy,” Danielle commented, walking confidently across the floor and taking a spot on the couch.

“So, what do you girls do?” Michael asked, getting the conversation going as they all sat down.

“I’m a freelance photographer, and Abby’s a writer,” Danielle explained.

“Writer, huh? Anything published?”

Abigail nodded. “Yeah, I had a book of poems published a few years ago. And if you’re worried about space, don’t be. Dani and I both teach on the side, so it’s not like we work from home. I mean, we do. But, not all the time.”

“Nah, it’s not a problem,” Ashton told her. “We work from home a lot, too.”

“Yeah, when we’re not bartending down the street.”

“Oh, you bartend?” Abigail asked, leaning forward a little.

“Pays the bills when music doesn’t,” Michael answered with a shrug. “What was the name of the book you published?”

“Matters of the Heart.”

The green eyes lit up in recognition, a sly smile on his face as he looked over at Ashton. “Hey, i-” Michael started but Ashton gave him a sharp look. “I think I’ve heard of it,” Michael fixed. “Uh… Ash, should we give them a tour of the place?”

~~~

“Fuck!” Michael cursed, slamming the front door shut and stalking to the fridge.

Three sets of eyes watched as the man grabbed a beer, popped the cap, and drank deeply from the green bottle. “What?!” he demanded in agitation.

Abigail and Danielle raised their hands in surrender, leaving Ashton to defuse the situation as the reigning expert on all things Michael. “You alright?” Ashton ventured, sliding his headphones off to hang around his neck, drumsticks still in his hands.

“I’ll give ya two guess,” Michael grinned sardonically.

“Crys-?”

Michael made a string of noises, cutting Ashton off, “Buh, buh, buh! That name’s forbidden from the loft.”

“Okay,” Ashton said with a slow chuckle. “Did you break up?”

Michael leaned his arms against the countertop. “Can you call it a break up if it happens every other week?”

“When you keep getting back with her? No.”

“Fuck you,” Michael scoffed, but amusement laced the words rather than malice. “Like you and Kay were any better.”

“Yeah, but when things broke off, they stayed broken off,” Ashton pointed out.

Michael drained the last drop of his beer, flashing another sarcastic grin. “And you just stayed broken.”

“Fuck you,” Ashton laughed. “Back me up here, ladies. Which is better? A break up that stays a break up? Or a constant back and forth?”

“Oh, hell no,” Danielle said, waving her hands. “Nuh-uh, you’re not dragging me into this.”

“Boo, you’re no fun,” Ashton teased, before turning to Abigail. “Abby?”

“Depends,” the woman shrugged.

“Ooo, a cop out. Not much better than Miss Abstaining,” Michael joined in on the teasing.

The women laughed. “It’s not a cop out,” Abigail went on to defend. “It depends on a number of factors. How long you’ve been dating, break ups aside. How many break ups you’ve had. Whether or not you see other people in between the breaks. And how you feel about each other, of course. The problem is, your answer may be one thing while theirs is another.”

“When the love don’t line up!” Ashton sang for no reason other than he could.

Abigail laughed, “Yeah, kinda. So, I guess my question to you, Mikey, is whether or not you think it’s worth it to keep doing this back and forth?”

Michael shrugged, walking over to plop down on the couch, resting his head in her lap. “No idea. I mean, I like her. I like spending time with her. She’s hot. The sex is good.”

“Jar!” they all scolded, and Michael sighed. He dug into his pocket, pulling out a few bills and flashing them wildly until Ashton grabbed it and shoved it in the jar on the coffee table adeptly labeled “Douche Jar.”

“You sound like a teenager,” Abigail told Michael, her fingers scratching through his hair. “You gotta decide if that’s enough for you now in this stage of your life. And if you’re breaking up with her as frequently as Ash is suggesting, then I think you have your answer. You just keep crashing back together because it’s easier than facing something new. You know your pattern with her. Doesn’t make it a good pattern, though.”

“Yeah, suppose you’re right…” Michael sighed, his eyes closing as Abigail’s fingernails continued to scratch against his scalp.

While the sight of any of the roommates curled up in another’s lap receiving head scratches was not at all an uncommon occurrence as they had all grown rather close during the last six months of cohabitation, a twinge of jealousy stabbed into Ashton and Danielle’s hearts. And while Danielle didn’t fully understand hers, Ashton most certainly did. 

The drummer pocketed his drumsticks, rising to his feet. “What’re you doing?” they questioned as he started dragging chairs into certain positions.

With the chairs in place, Ashton moved to throwing the couch cushions haphazardly about the room. “True American,” he answered.

Michael’s head snapped up. “You don’t drink.”

“A bartender who doesn’t drink?” Abigail asked with an air of impressed approval.

“Staying sober while getting others drunk is my superpower,” Ashton winked, going to the fridge and grabbing the case of beer in there. He set that on the counter before grabbing a case of soda for himself.

“We’re forgetting a key component here,” Danielle interjected. “What the fuck is True American?”

“Drinking game,” Michael answered, helping Ashton set up a tower of drinks smack dab in the middle of the cushions and chairs. “Grab the king, Ash.”

“Catch.” A bottle of whiskey got tossed in the air, Michael catching it with ease, and setting it in the middle of the tower he and Ashton had crafted. “Rules are simple,” Ashton started to explain. “1.) You always have to have a drink in your hand.”

“2.) You have to finish your drink before starting another,” Michael added.

“And 3.) the floor is lava,” they both finished. “Pick your poison.”

Abigail grabbed a can of Coke, while Danielle opted for a beer, both of them waiting hesitantly for the next instructions.

“FDR!” Ashton shouted, cracking open his can, gulping it down fast, and jumping on a cushion.

“JFK!” Michael yelled in response, following suit, finding a perch on a chair.

“Wait what?!” the women asked in amused confusion and they each found their own lava-free spot.

“Drink!” was the only instruction they got.

For the next hour, the loft came alive with loud laughter, hollered American history references, and so much drinking, until the cases were drained, and discarded cans littered the ground. Eyes got glossy sheens or wild looks as the alcohol and caffeine buzzed through their veins.

~~~

“Hey, who’s that guy with Abby?” Ashton asked in a hushed tone.

Michael followed the hazel eyed gaze to where Abigail was sitting in a booth across from another man. If he had to guess, the way she was leaning across the table, a dreamy smile on her face, she was having a good time. And by the looks of it, Ashton didn’t like it one bit. “Oh, that’s um…” Michael scrambled to remember what the girls had been talking about before he left for his shift at the bar. “Nathan, I wanna say? Dani was helping Abby get ready before I left.”

Ashton scoffed. “And he brought her here? What a joke…”

Michael shook his head. “No, Abby arranged it that way. Something about neutral ground in case she was misreading signals.”

“Looks like she can read just fine.” Ashton’s grip on the glass he was drying slipped.

Michael’s hand flashed out to catch it. “Green’s not a good color on you,” he said, handing the glass back.

Ashton cheeks flushed with color. “I’m not jealous.”

The blonde scoffed. “Yeah, and I hate videogames.”

“You love videogames…”

“Yeah, thought we were lying to each other. You ever gonna tell her that you like her?”

Ashton sighed. “I dunno. How do you explain to someone that every time you see them you feel sixteen again? Like I’m seeing her for the first time again but instead of in a school hallway, it’s on my couch at the end of the day? That… all I’ve wanted to do for the last eight months is cross the distance between our rooms, but my head won’t let me believe that she could want me back. I mean, why should she?”

“I imagine you can tell her just like that. And why wouldn’t she want you?”

“Because I’m me. I was a loser in high school, and I’m a loser now.”

“A loser who makes her very happy whenever she’s around him.”

Ashton scoffed in disbelief. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m just saying… she’s never offered to have a writing session with me.”

Ashton blinked, thinking back on more nights than he can count where he and Abigail had stayed up well into the middle of the night, tossing ideas back and forth, some resulting in poems, and others in songs. Then, he looked back over at the woman who was laughing at something her date had said. “Doesn’t matter. Once again I lost out to the guy who didn’t overthink it.”

“Well, not that I’m rooting for her to have a bad time. But I’m always rooting for you.”

Ashton let out a small chuckle. “Thanks. But weren’t you the one who told me not to try and sleep with her?”

“I’m allowed to change my mind. Just when you do get her- and you will- don’t fuck it up.”

“Are you changing your mind because you’re rooting for me? Or are you changing your mind, so you don’t look like a hypocrite when you finally sleep with Dani?”

Michael sighed dreamily at the mention of the fourth roommate. He’d taken Abigail’s advice, opting to break his pattern with Crystal and look towards something new. A something new he hoped would include the snarky, and nerdy photographer.  “Little column A, little column B.”

“Jar,” Ashton deadpanned with roll his eyes. A compromise about when Michael asked Danielle out, he’d ask Abigail out was on the tip of his tongue when the scene across the bar changed. Abigail’s face was pinched with disgust. She sat back with a visible huff, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. There was a small squeal of outrage before Abigail splashed her drink in the man’s face, stalking off to the bathroom.

Michael’s hand landed on top of Ashton’s on the bar, the older man already in motion to hop over the bar and rush to her aid. “No,” Michael hissed.

“Why not?!” Ashton hissed back.

“Because if you go after her looking like a bat out of hell, she’s just going to get defensive, and take out her anger on you. Take your jealousy out on him. I’ll get her home.”

“What about your shift?”

“I got a break coming up in a bit. Just say I ate something bad, and got sick.”

With their objectives clear, they both jumped into action, Ashton stalking off to give Mr. Bad Date a piece of his mind. “You need to leave,” Ashton spoke clearly, authority ringing confidently in his tone, trying to keep his snarl at a minimum.

“That bitch threw a drink in my face, but I need to leave?”

“One, she’s been a loyal customer of this bar for several months now. Two, I don’t ever wanna hear you associate that word with her. Three, I don’t ever wanna see you in here, or around her ever again. Am I making myself clear?”

The man rolled his eyes, pushing himself out of the booth, the drink dripping down his shirt and onto the tips of his shoes. “Whatever,” he scoffed.

While Ashton watched Mr. Bad Date slink off into the night to go piss off some other girl, Michael was rapping softly on the single use bathroom. “Abby? It’s Mike. C’mon, let me in. I saw what happened. Abby… Don’t make me get the key.”

The door opened reluctantly, revealing Abigail with red-rimmed eyes.

“You alright?”

She shook her head. “No…”

“You handled him well. Nice throw. Ash is out there finishing the job. Tossing him out on his ass.”

Abigail laughed despite herself, imaging the sight of Ashton intimidating the everloving shit out of her date. The scum deserved so much worse than Ashton’s bad temper. “Thanks.”

“C’mon,” Michael beckoned. “I’ll walk you home.”

“Aren’t you on the clock?”

“I’m on my break. And my stomach’s feeling kinda funny.” He clutched at his stomach and dramatically groaned, his face twisting in fake pain.

With his arm around her shoulder, and hers around his waist, the duo made their way out of the bar, nodding at Ashton as they walked by. “God, guys suck!” Abigail complained as the night air hit her face. “No offense,” she added apologetically.

“None taken. I know you don’t mean me.”

“Do I have a sign on my forehead reading ‘please be a douche’ or something?”

Michael chuckled, giving a shake of his head. “No. You’re just looking in the wrong places.”

Abigail scoffed lightly. “What? Is this the part where you confess your undying love for me, and hope I feel the same?” she teased. “Ever since you first walked into my apartment,” she added with dramatic flair.

Michael laughed louder, pushing open the door to their building. “Not me, sorry.”

“Aw, you don’t love me?”

“I adore you,” he clarified. “My life has definitely changed for the better since you and Dani moved in. But-”

“Oh…” Abigail interrupted, his words clicking. “You like Dani, don’t you?”

That wasn’t what Michael had planned on saying, but he nodded anyway. “Yeah. Think I got a shot with her?”

“Only one way to find out,” she told him, unlocking the apartment. “Thanks for tonight, Mikey,” she said, stretching up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek affectionately before disappearing into her room.

Danielle waited for Abigail’s door to close before revealing her position on the couch. “You were her date?!” The words were a harsh accusation.

“What?!” Michael laughed.

“Abby! Her date tonight. It was you?!” Again, the words were harsh.

Michael continued to laugh, only making Danielle angrier. “And what if I was?” he taunted, closing the distance between them to tower over her.

“Well... I...” she sputtered, crossing her arms and having to tilt her chin upwards to look at him. “She likes Ashton, so you’re wasting your time,” she concluded with the confession that she thought would hit Michael the hardest.

“And Ashton likes her back, and I’d never do that to my best friend. Plus, I have my own eyes on someone else.”

“Oh, yeah? Then why’d you go on a date with Abby?”

“When did I ever confirm that statement?”

“Well… she just…”

“Thanked me for walking her home after the guy she was on the date with turned out to be a douche.”

“Why didn’t Ash?”

“Because Ash got jealous, and his temper would have clashed with hers. I felt bad her date sucked, but I was the one of us with the head cool enough to talk her down. So Ash used his temper to kick the guy out, and I used my cool head to not aggravate her further.”

“That’s really smart actually…”

“Mhm. Done being jealous now?”

“Jealous? Who said I was being jealous?”

Michael gave a shake of his head, chuckling lightly. “I’mma tell you the same thing I told Ash. Green is not your color.” And before either of them could get in another word edgewise, he ducked down his head, connecting his lips with hers.

~~~

In the morning, both girls were bursting with the news they wanted to tell each other. “So, how’d your date go?” Danielle asked as they ate their breakfast.

“Horrible,” Abigail laughed. “Just God fuckin’ awful. His jokes were cringey at best, and sexist at worst. I don’t know what I would’ve done if Mikey hadn’t saved me. Probably kept crying in the bathroom like a girl at Prom.”

Danielle laughed with her. “Thank God for Mikey, right?”

“Oh, definitely,” Abigail agreed. “Who knew guy roommates would come in handy. Although, for a second there, I thought he was gonna try, and hit on me himself.”

Danielle shuddered and pulled a face. “Bleck!”

Abigail shrugged. “Eh. Wouldn’t be that awful if he had. He’s a great guy. Just not the roommate I want hitting on me. So, how was your night? I heard you and Mikey going at it there for a minute. You guys good?”

Danielle’s teeth nipped into her lower lip, remembering how she’d woken up in Michael’s bed after their kiss had escalated at a rapid pace. “Oh, yeah. We’re good.”

If the words weren’t a dead giveaway, the blissed out smile was. Abigail’s mouth dropped open. “Ohmigod!” she squealed. Then, in a shocked whisper, “Did you?”

“Oh, yeah,” her friend nodded, the smile getting bigger.

“Ohmigod!” she squealed again, before both women erupted in childlike giggles.

“Ohmigod!” a high pitched shriek joined the mayhem, Michael flapping his hands as he wandered into the kitchen, a dopey grin on his face. “Mornin’ beautiful,” he greeted, placing a kiss to Danielle’s cheek that flushed brightly. “Abby,” he grinned across the table.

“Morning,” Abigail laughed, scraping her seat back, and carrying her plate to the sink. She sighed at the sight, checking the time on the microwave. “Hey, I’m gonna run the dishwasher. You guys got any dishes hiding?”

“Don’t think so,” Danielle said, getting up with her own plate.

“Nope,” Michael said with a shake of his head. “But you might wanna check Ash’s room. Man hoards cups like no one’s business.”

“Yeah, and I’d rather not wait for him to get in from his workout.” Her lips fluttered together in thought as she looked from the sink to down the hallway, deciding which to do first.

“I’ll start in here,” Danielle offered. “You go get the cups from Ash’s room.”

Abigail practically skipped down the hallway towards Ashton’s open door, pausing briefly in the doorway. She’d walked by the man’s room about a million times, but she’d never crossed the threshold. She supposed she could run up to the roof and interrupt his workout… No, she shook her head. They were just cups. It wasn’t like she was going to rifle through his belongings. And the cups were right there on his nightstand. She could see them from where she was standing. No. Ashton wouldn’t care.

With a deep breath, she crossed the imaginary boundary to retrieve the glasses on his nightstand, stilling when she noticed a book resting amongst discarded rings and silver chains; her book. The spine was worn down with deep crease lines, indicating that it was well read. Her heart started to hammer erratically in her chest. When had he bought it, and how much time had he dedicated to give it it’s well-loved appearance, and highly-prized spot right by his bed, always within grasp?

Before she knew what was happening, the book was falling open in her hands. Her butt found the edge of his bed, staring down at her book in her hands. Their hearts and souls resided alongside each other in the form of perfectly typed pages, scrawled blue ink, and streaks of yellow highlighter.

“What are you doing?!” Ashton’s sharp tone snapped Abigail out of her daze.

Her body jolted, a startled gasp flying past her lips, the book landing face down on the floor, some of the pages bending. “Sorry!” she rushed, hurriedly picking up the book. “I was getting the cups off your nightstand, and I saw the book, and I…” she continued, brushing her hand along the cover, and setting it gingerly back on the nightstand.

“And you what?! Just thought you’d start peeking through my things?!”

“Well… I mean… it’s my book.”

“You wrote it, sure. But I paid for it. That’s my copy. You shouldn’t be going through my things.”

“I wasn’t going through them. It was on the nightstand. It’s not like I went digging through your underwear drawer for it,” she said through gritted teeth, her prior embarrassment turning into defensive anger the longer he stood there scolding her like a toddler caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

“Oh, so the book just magically opened up in your hands, and you just magically started reading it?!”

“It’s my book!”

“That I’ve written in!”

“Believe it or not, plenty of people do that, Ashton. That doesn’t make you special.”

“That doesn’t make it less personal!”

“Any less personal than you reading through my most private thoughts?!”

“You fuckin’ published your thoughts for the world to see!”

“And you left it on your nightstand for anyone to see!”

Ashton passed a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly through his nose. “Just get the fuckin’ water glasses…” he muttered after a beat, noticing the shine to her eyes as she held back tears. He didn’t want to be the reason she was crying, when he’d been the one stupid enough to leave the book by his bedside. He should have hidden it in his underwear drawer, but he didn’t like the idea of not having it close at hand. If there was a pocket-sized version, he’d carry that around so he always had it.

“How long?” she asked, her voice shaking with the effort to keep it controlled.

“How long what? How long have the glasses been in here? I dunno. A week maybe. It’s just water though, so it’s not like they’re gross.”

“Not the glasses… the book! How long?”

“4 years…”

“You mean when it got released?”

He gave a quick nod. “Day of.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s good. Because I was proud of you. For doing what you said you were gonna do. For putting your vulnerability out there for everyone to see. Because we’re friends, and friends support each other.” Ashton left out the part where it was also because he was in love with her, and wanted to know if she felt the same way. If she had written about him, the way he had about her.

She hung her head. “We weren’t friends, Ash. We are now. And I’m glad for that. But we weren't when you bought this book.”

“I wish we had been. I wish I’d been brave enough to know you the way I know you now. 4 years ago. Hell, in high school even.”

“Me too,” she whispered, a tear of regret sliding down her cheek. A decade’s worth of pent up feelings filled the air between them and she still wasn’t brave enough to break through it.

She wasn’t sure when he had crossed the room to her, his fingers hooking under her chin to guide her face to look up at him. “But I know you now. And I can’t make up for lost time, but I can make sure we don’t waste anymore.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, more tears sliding down her face as her heart broke in her chest. 10 years worth of longing to only have him halfway. She supposed it was better than not having him at all, but the pain stung all the same. “Friends?” Her voice cracked and she visibly winced as the word rolled off her tongue.

Ashton shook his head. “No. I, uh- I don’t think I can do that.”

“But you-” Her lip started to quiver, so she bit it harshly, averting her gaze.

“Look at me,” he coaxed, his thumb rubbing along her cheekbone. “I meant that I can’t be friends with you because I’m past that point. When I say I don’t want to waste anymore time, I mean I don’t want to waste it by trying for anything less than what I really want.”

“And what do you want?”

“You.”

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” she breathed in relief.

He reached over to grab the book, waving it in front of her face. “4 years give or take?” he teased lightly, dimples indenting in his cheeks.

“Longer than that,” she admitted, her entire face warm with her confession.

“Oh?” he continued to tease with a bemused smile.

“Ash,” she redirected, stretching upwards to intertwine her fingers behind his neck. “Shut up, and kiss me.”

Ashton didn’t need to be told twice.

“Oh, looks like you two finally figured it out,” Michael said from the doorway, making the couple jump apart. “Oh, no. Don’t stop on my account. Just gonna squeeze by ya, and get these cups…” He made a show of tiptoeing by them to gather the glasses.

“Michael!” Danielle hissed, stomping into the room and dragging her boyfriend out by the arm.

“Ah, young love!” Michael marvel, allowing himself to get towed out of the room. “Kinda makes you wanna fuck, huh?”

“Jar!”

Michael was already digging into his pocket. “Worth it!”

__

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