#uh oh time to have this album on repeat for the next seven days | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kissinginkitchens · 3 years

Text

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Nine: Friday

a/n: happy friday lovies!! I am soooo excited for y’all to read this one bc it was my favvv chapter to write and I still get emo over it :’) also I think I should maybe let you all know that we only have two more chapters left in this series, and I can not thank you enough for all of the love and support you have shown it. It has been such a blast hearing your thoughts and sharing Halani with all of you lovely people, and I can’t believe the fun is almost over :( BUT we still have some time before we have to think about that soooo without further ado here is the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character (Halani <3)

Warnings: swearing, some suggestive humor

Word Count: 9.5k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight

Monday

Harry takes a deep breath and raises his arms above his head, feeling every vertebrae stretch as he lies flat against the surfboard. The beaming sunlight warms him down to the bone and it threatens to lull him to sleep, but his attention is too occupied with the various sounds coming from each direction. Out of his right ear, he hears the waves lapping against the shore and the faint sound of children’s laughter. From his left, Mitch and Tom engage in a serious conversation about sharks. He lets one foot slide off the edge of the board and wade into the water below, all the while resisting the paranoia that he will be the next victim of Jaws thanks to his friends’ discussion.

“I’m gonna go switch out the camera.” Paul says beside him, already swimming back to the shore.

Harry gives a thumbs up in acknowledgement and lets the back of his hand rest against his forehead. He floats for a moment longer before swinging his other leg into the water and sitting up. His feet gently tread below the surface and he studies the area for any fish sightings, but his shoulders slump in disappointment when he doesn’t find any.

“I just think,” Mitch defends, legs crossed on his own surfboard. “That I would survive way longer than you,”

“It’s not a fuckin’ zombie apocalypse, survival rate depends on how severe the attack is,” Tom shoots back.

“Not if you’re smart,”

“Right, good thinking, mate. Just yell the Pythagorean theorem and swim away while the bloody thing tries to solve it,”

“You just don’t get it.”

“Stop bein’ a coward, then, and put your feet in the water.”

Harry shakes his head in amusement and continues scanning the scene for something else to occupy his attention. His eyes momentarily land on a couple in the distance, the pair facing each other on their shared surfboard and laughing. He smiles softly and glances back to the shore where his group has set up camp for the afternoon. Squinting, he tries to determine the time of day using the sun’s position overhead, but quickly gives up and swims back to the beach. The sand clings to his wet toes as he jogs over to his bag and digs inside for his phone. The time reads 2:37–Alani’s shift will be over soon.

She stifles another yawn and punches in her customer’s order, re-typing it when she realizes that it’s littered with errors. Her mind had been in a permanent fog since she woke up at 6:45 this morning. Harry had already slipped out by the time she reached over for him, but he left a note on his pillow this time.

GOOD MORNING SWEETS!

SORRY I HAD TO JET SO EARLY :( I’LL SEE YOU AFTER WORK.

H ☼

P.S. ALREADY MISSING YOUR LITTLE SNORES ♡

As if on cue, Alani’s phone vibrates in her back pocket and she slips it out to read the new text.

Harry: Meet me at Honoli’i after your shift?

She really wants to, but she’s also in desperate need of sleep.

Alani: Gonna take a power nap first, but I’ll be there

Harry: Can’t wait xx

********

In the distance, Harry hears The Cure blasting from a car in the parking lot. He hums along and picks at his bowl of fruit, saving the kiwis for Alani who once said they were her favorite. Jeff and Paul laugh about something between the two of them before the director catches Harry’s attention.

“How long you planning on staying here?” he asks.

Harry checks his phone again and the time reads 4:35. He wasn’t entirely sure how long Alani’s nap was supposed to last, but just as he’s about to answer, a text comes through.

Alani: Heading over. See you soon, sunshine💗

He smiles softly and shuts his phone off. “I actually have a surfing lesson at five. But I’ll meet you guys at the house after.”

Paul, the two Jeffs, Mitch, and Tom bid Harry farewell and decide to take a drive along the coast before heading to dinner. They mention the name of the restaurant they plan to go to, but Harry knows he’ll probably skip it and take Alani somewhere else. He sits back on his elbows, watching the palm trees sway in the breeze, when suddenly his vision goes dark when he feels hands over his eyes.

“Guess who,”

“The Queen of England?”

“Yes and I’m here to colonize your land and steal your jewels,” Alani jokes in a posh British accent. She leans over his head so they partake in an upside down kiss before settling into the sand beside him.

“You’ve already had my family jewels,” he teases with a suggestive wiggle of his brows.

Alani scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You are so insufferable sometimes, I swear to God,”

Harry lies back and rests his head in her lap with a shit-eating-grin plastered to his face. The damp locks along his hairline are curled and Alani twirls the pieces between her fingers.

“Saved y’some kiwis,” he informs her, nodding in the direction of his tote bag.

“Aw thanks, baby,”

“How was your day?”

Alani removes the lid and pops a slice of kiwi into her mouth. “Long, boring, tiring. A lot better now,”

“Feel the same way,”

“How’s your project going?” she questions, curious about his recent, mysterious whereabouts.

He shrugs. “S’fine, yeah,”

“What exactly is it, again?”

“It’s a,” Harry starts slowly. “Video thing… kind of,”

Alani narrows her eyes and lifts another piece of fruit to her lips. “Meaning?”

“It’s like—following uh.. the album ‘n stuff,”

“Ah the elusive album,” Alani nods. “Will I ever get to hear any of it?”

“Yeah,”

“When?”

“Dunno,” he blinks. “When’re you gonna let me read that article of yours?”

She smirks and taps her fork against her lower lip. “When it’s ready,”

“Then I’m withholding my thing ‘til it’s ready too,”

“That’s not fair,” she objects. “My article is contingent on your music,”

“One song,” Harry bargains, holding up his index finger. “In exchange for one paragraph. Seems fair to me,”

“Deal,”

He sits up suddenly and opens his mouth as an unspoken request for a kiwi. Alani tosses it in his direction and to her surprise, he catches it effortlessly.

“You really are a freak of nature,” she marvels. “What can’t you do?”

“Stay away from you, apparently,”

“Ditto,”

“D’you wanna head to the water for a bit?” Harry asks, his eyes landing on the board cast to the side.

Alani nods. “Sure thing,”

She strips down to the pink two piece underneath her clothes and accepts his outstretched hand. They shuffle through the sand, joint hands swinging, but Harry stops and scans her face when they reach the edge.

“What?” Alani asks, already dipping her toes in the water.

He runs his thumb over hers and starts hesitantly. “I know the water is kind of…”

“Oh,” she finishes when he trails off. “Yeah. I mean, for the most part I’m okay with it. Last time was just—I wasn’t expecting it,”

“I’m really sorry for that.” Harry apologizes with a somber look in his eye.

Alani reaches her free hand out to his cheek and offers a comforting smile. “No, it’s okay. I actually used to be pretty good at surfing,”

“Oh?”

“Haven’t really done it in years, though. I’m probably really rusty now,”

“Well maybe it’s time to get back on the horse,” Harry urges, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of her palm before leading them further into the waves. Alani gets up on the board first and it's clear that she’s a natural despite the lack of practice. Her muscles fall into a mesmerizing rhythm as they repeat the very motions she had done thousands of times before her accident. Harry’s eyes carefully study the precision of her determined arms slicing through the water and the way her feet gracefully meet the board once she’s found a strong enough wave. She glides back to the beach and revels in the familiar feeling of the ocean breeze against her skin. Harry whistles from the distance as she reaches the shore, turning back to him with a wide grin and two thumbs up.

“Your turn,” she calls, paddling towards him on her stomach.

Harry replaces her on the board and winces. “Maybe I should’ve gone first,”

“You’re gonna do great,” Alani insists. “Tighten your core muscles. Oh! And bend your knees, not your back. Just trust your instincts and follow through,”

He follows her advice and to his surprise, does well, though not nearly as graceful as she had. Despite this, Alani cheers from the side as he glides back to the beach. Harry takes a bow once his feet have safely met the sand below.

“I knew you could do it,” she beams when he swims back to her.

“Couldn’t have done it without my amazing coach,” he shoots back, leaning down to press a salty kiss to her lips.

With Harry’s help, she swings her leg over the board and sits so that they face each other. Their legs paddle gently below the surface and his hand finds the top of her knee, giving it an affectionate squeeze.

“You were incredible out there,” he muses. “Can’t even tell that you’re out of practice,”

She wrings her hair out and fastens it into a low bun at the base of her neck. “Guess it’s like riding a bike—the muscle memory and all that,”

“You’re a great coach, you know. Cause I usually just wipe out,”

“That’s normal,” Alani nods. “You have to get used to falling. And wait for the right wave,”

Harry admires the way the afternoon sun sets her aglow, skin shimmering and golden under the rays. “How d’you know when it’s the right one?”

“You just feel it I guess. It’s like a gut instinct that you have to follow. And no second guessing yourself, either, cause that’s when you mess up,”

“What if you do go for it and you still wipe out?” He questions, something besides surfing in the back of his mind.

Alani sighs. “Then you wipe out,”

“You just have to trust?”

“You just have to trust,”

Harry hums as he considers this. Three burning syllables bounce around in his skull, but he suppresses them for the time being. Carefully, he lifts himself to his feet and motions for Alani to do the same. It takes them a second to find their balance on the board, but eventually they do and Harry brings her closer with a protective hand on the middle of her back.

“D’you trust me?” he murmurs.

Alani studies the different shades of green in his irises and feels a flutter deep in the pit of her belly, so she decides to take her own advice and presses a soft kiss to his warm lips before responding.

“Yes.”

Carefully, Harry takes a step back and twirls Alani before pulling her flush to his chest and swaying to the music stuck in his brain. As best they can, the pair dances on the surface of the board but Harry’s foot gets caught in a slick spot and he tumbles backwards, bringing Alani with him. When they emerge, his heart races in worry, but the knot in his chest eases when he hears her laughter.

“Y’okay?” he checks.

“Yeah,” she assures him, her legs snaking around his torso under the water. “I’m alright.”

The sky turns pink as they continue to wade peacefully in the water, and the entire time Harry finds himself fixated on the weight of the three little words nagging at the back of his brain.

********

Tuesday

“Say it again,”

“No,”

“Please?”

Harry shoots Alani an unamused look through the corner of his eye. “Dunno what’s so funny about it,”

“Just say it one more time,” she pleads with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Tuesday,”

“Chews day,” Alani mimics and Harry rolls his eyes.

“You’re so clever,” he huffs. “Really, a true comedian,”

She giggles and leans over in her seat to press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s cute!”

“Yeah, whatever,”

“Okay, just one more—”

“Alani,” Harry chuckles, more endeared than irritated. “Don’t make me turn this car around,”

She pouts playfully and returns to watching the trees and passing cars. “At least I’m not asking you where we’re going,”

“You are so stubborn,” he shakes his head. “I told you we’re almost there,”

“I just don’t understand what it is with you and keeping secrets,”

“It’s about the mystery, darlin’, it’s romantic! Just trust me, okay? Have I ever steered you wrong?”

Alani nibbles at the skin on her lower lip and folds her arms. “No,”

“Okay, then,” Harry says finally. “Now change the song. I let you have fun with one Taylor, but it’s getting old,”

“Hater,” she grumbles, shuffling through the rest of her playlists before settling on Madonna.

Harry’s finger taps along to the beat against her thigh and his lips turn up when he hears Alani singing along. Her eyes are focused on the road ahead of them as she pretends to be in a music video of her own, creating hand gestures and choreography to accompany the lyrics. The chorus builds and she belts out the words as if her life depends on it.

“I’m crazy for you!” She performs, squishing Harry’s cheeks between her hands. “Touch me once and you’ll know it’s true. I never wanted anyone like this, it’s all brand new. You’ll feel it in my kiss,”

Alani presses a slobbery smooch to the side of his face and he groans, laughing when she continues melodramatically. The song goes on for another minute and Alani sings passionately out of tune, but it makes Harry’s heart swell. He briefly considers joining her, but decides to let her have her moment, too amused by the way she’s caught up in the emotion. When it’s finally over, she slumps down in her seat with a dazed look in her eye.

“Gotta love the 80s,”

“Maybe I should let you join the band,” Harry suggests.

“Really?

“No,”

Alani gasps in mock offense, her eyes wide. “Hey!”

“Yeah,” he smirks. “Doesn’t feel so good, does it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she dismisses offhandedly. “I’m a sweetie,”

“A sweet pain in my arse,”

“Arse? Did you really just say arse?”

“I take it back, you’re just a regular pain.”

The two of them drive for another forty-five minutes taking playful jabs at each other and watching the lush greenery whizz by. Harry had been characteristically cryptic in his instructions the night before, an idea suddenly popping into his mind when Alani reminded him of her day off. He had told her to wear something comfortable and practical, nothing that could flow easily in the wind. Furthermore, he revealed that he would pick her up at exactly 7:00 a.m. which made her eyebrows shoot up.

“Seven?”

“It’ll be worth it, promise,”

“Can we at least get McDonald’s hash browns for the road?” Alani had bargained.

Harry chuckled to himself, too excited to deny her. “Sure thing, sweets.”

Welcome to Waikōloa Beach, the sign read and Alani wondered what could possibly have possessed Harry to drag her out of bed and across the island at the crack of dawn. Her question was quickly answered when they turned onto Keana Place where a lot full of helicopters were lined up and waiting.

“‘Big Island Tours’,” she reads aloud. “Wait a minute, we’re not—”

“Surprise!” Harry beams, reaching behind her seat for a bag.

Alani scoffs, her mind still trying to process. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Come on,” he pleads. “Been dying to do it since I got here,”

“So bring Mitch! Or Jeff, or Tom or literally anyone else,”

Harry gives her a pout and bats his lashes. “But I’d rather be with you. Please?”

“Harry,” she sighs, taking another glance at the helicopters before her. They did seem secure enough, enclosed on all sides, and he had driven an hour and a half just to surprise her with something fun and totally outside of her comfort zone.

“Trust me?” he asks after a minute, kissing her knuckles gently.

Alani takes a deep breath and nods. “Fine.”

They exit the SUV and Harry takes her hand, slinging his bag over his shoulder. There’s a short, stocky man with dark sunglasses standing in front of one of the helicopters with a clipboard. He checks his watch when he sees the two of them approaching and reaches out a hand.

“Mr. Styles?”

“Harry,”

“Nice to meet you Harry, I’m Matt,” the pilot says with a firm handshake. “Is this your guest?”

“Alani,” she greets. “Is this…”

“It’s very safe,” Matt assures her with a warm smile.

Harry squeezes her hand gently and looks over their mode of transportation. “How long’ve you been doin’ this?”

“Almost ten years,” the pilot explains. “I was a commercial pilot for twenty-five and then started this when I retired,”

“I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of nervous fliers, then,” Alani speaks up, attempting humor to mask her jitters.

Matt nods with a knowing smile. “Oh yeah. Plenty of anxious girlfriends who kick their boyfriends for dragging them into it, but they always enjoy themselves in the end,”

Alani’s cheeks warm at his assumption of their relationship status, but neither her nor Harry address it. Instead, Harry clears his throat and asks his next question.

“So when can we go up?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Matt offers.

Once the three of them have settled into the aircraft, he hands Harry and Alani each a headset and goes over the basic safety rules. Her heart races and stomach turns, but she takes a deep breath and wills herself to give it a chance. Beside her, Harry is enthusiastically chatting up Matt and being his usual charming self; his confidence is reassuring and she finds herself sinking deeper into his side for comfort. He drapes an arm over her shoulders protectively, sensing her nerves, and presses a firm kiss to her temple. After a few minutes of discussion with the air base over the radio, Matt gives them a thumbs up and signals that they’re ready to go. Another deep breath and they’re off, the ground growing smaller and smaller below. They skim over Waikōloa Village and head west to Waiulua Bay where the water is so clear and blue, Harry has a hard time believing it’s real. Alani peers down at the tiny people all along the coast and in the water and her throat goes dry. She feels Harry nudge her shoulder lightly and looks over to where his finger is pointed.

“Down there you can swim with dolphins,” he says. “Looked it up last night,”

“And we’re not doing that because...?”

Harry flashes a dimpled grin and laughs softly to himself. “How are you not enjoying this?”

“I am,” Alani insists, which is steadily becoming true. She watches in amazement as they hover over the expanse of the lush, green landscape along the coast.

Over the headset, Matt points out some key landmarks and answers more of Harry’s questions. They pass over an active volcano and Alani momentarily feels a rush of terror, but her curiosity takes over as she snaps a photo of the molten lava below. She captures another one of Harry looking out his window before flipping the camera to selfie mode and making a peace sign. He turns to tell her something, but flashes a cheesy grin and presses a kiss to her cheek when he notices the camera. Alani writes a mental note to make it her lock screen later.

After half an hour in the air, Matt points to the cliff on their right hand side and says they’ll be landing there for a bit as part of the tour. A 200 foot waterfall feeds into a small pool and he lands them on a ledge across the way. The three of them exit the helicopter, but Matt says that he needs to check in with the base and lets them explore the site alone for a few minutes.

“This is incredible,” Alani marvels, looking over the edge.

“Knew you’d like it,”

She turns to him and snakes her arms around his shoulders, leaving a small peck to his lips. “Thank you,”

While she had been almost one-hundred percent sure that she would never enjoy a helicopter ride, Alani is glad that she was wrong. She is even more grateful that Harry had encouraged, but hadn’t pushed, her to try it. If Alani had been absolutely against the idea, she knows that he wouldn’t have pressed it any further and would have taken her to do something more her speed, hence the dolphin back up plan. It sometimes felt like they were from entirely different worlds, Harry being more sure of himself and adventurous while Alani was careful and preferred to have things planned. But he made her feel brave and spontaneous without pressuring her to change anything about herself. Harry had seen something special in her and wanted the whole world to see it, too. So he encouraged her to break out of her comfort zone and let her true self shine, but only at her own discretion. Over the course of the past few weeks, Alani had noticed herself opening up to new experiences and loving every minute of it, but this transformative feeling was far from one sided; because of their relationship, Harry learned the value of trusting his own instincts. For so much of his life, he felt like a member of an overcrowded democracy allowing himself to go with the majority rule even if it didn’t particularly please him. From their earliest moments spent together, Harry was inspired by Alani’s determination and self-confidence. He had always cared deeply about other people’s opinion of him and felt that it was his greatest weakness, but she seemed so unapologetically herself at all times. And though Harry sometimes worried that he was simply playing a part for the rest of the world, he never had to question who he was with Alani. She understood him, she grounded him, and amidst all of the unfamiliarity in his new life, she felt familiar and safe.

“You deserve it,” Harry says gently. “To see beautiful things.”

Alani presses their foreheads together and studies his emerald eyes like they’re the rarest gems she’s ever seen. “Well I’m looking at the best damn view right now,”

“Although, I wish you would’ve told me we were going to Jurassic Park, I would’ve prepared my Laura Dern outfit.”

Harry laughs softly and slots his lips between hers, those three, pesky little words nagging at him again. Not yet, he thinks, but almost there.

********

Wednesday

Alani takes an extended lunch and heads over to the recording studio with food for Harry and his friends. He had warned her beforehand that there would be filming, so they agreed to pretend, just for the afternoon, that she was his assistant. However, their true relationship was as much of a mystery to the both of them as it was to everyone else. Alani had considered, on many occasions, asking him to officially be her boyfriend. She didn’t know how else to refer to him when her mom had started inquiring about the Range Rover mysteriously parked across the street every morning. Each time Alani had gotten up the nerve to ask, however, she secretly worried that it was too soon, or worse, that he would say no. Much to her oblivion Harry had also wrestled with this question, and many others, but also feared her response. What they shared was undeniably strong and completely foreign, so they had independently decided not to put too much weight on the situation in fear of bursting the bubble too soon. Neither of them were prepared to deal with the fallout if it all came crumbling down.

“Lunch is here!” Jeff calls from the doorway as he escorts Alani inside.

He motions her over to the table in one corner of the room and helps her lay out the food, thanking her warmly when she declines payment.

“It’s on the house,” she reassures him.

The crew all take turns grabbing their lunch, Mitch ruffling Alani’s hair in a display of gratitude while he swipes his burger, and settle into various chairs and comfortable spots around the studio. Harry is the last one to claim his food and he lingers around the table as he does so.

“Thank you, Ms. Hale,” he offers politely, itching to give her an appreciative kiss.

She nods and returns the professionalism. “You’re very welcome, Mr. Styles,”

“How’s the weather?”

By now, Alani has come to recognize this as his go-to inquiry when he’s really asking for her attention or affection.

“Full of sunshine,”

“Glad to hear it.” he smiles softly. The casual slip of his nickname isn’t lost on him.

“Hey Harry,” the director calls. “Show Jason that Bob Dylan thing you were doing—watch, you’ll love this.”

Harry musters up a pleasant smile and quickly glances at Alani, wanting nothing more than to escape with her for the precious few moments she has left to spare.

“Occupational hazard.” she shrugs as her cue of permission. His fond look turns apologetic before he saunters over to the rest of the group.

Alani watches, amused, as he lifts a guitar and starts strumming a tune that she hadn’t heard before with a Dylan-esque lilt in his voice. The crew all laugh and encourage his impression, but she still wonders what the song is and reminds herself to ask later. After a few moments with the rest of the group, Harry’s eyes wander to Alani munching on a french fry and scrolling on her phone. Jeff notices this too and decides to help his friend out.

“Hey Alani,” he calls. “Come sit with us,”

She looks over to Harry and he grins eagerly, making room on the couch between him and Mitch.

“Alani makes the best smoothies in the world.” Jeff comments to the film crew.

“It’s true,” Mitch adds. “Harry loves ‘em.”

A subtle glare radiates from the singer, but Mitch simply winks in response.

“Well, you guys are my favorite customers,” Alani offers. “But don’t tell the others,”

The whole team makes Alani feel welcome and she’s endlessly thankful for it, making an effort to engage every crew member in some sort of small talk as evidence of her gratitude. Harry enjoys her presence among his friends and how easily she fits in. It serves as further proof of what his gut already knew: she was a missing puzzle piece in the image of his ideal life slowly coming together before his eyes. Alani checks the time an hour later and starts bidding farewell to the group, much to their disappointment. As she slips out the door and over to the Bronco, a familiar accented voice calls from behind. Before she has time to respond, a pair of warm lips meet hers and she hums.

“They’re all goin’ out for dinner at 5,” Harry explains gently. “Come back to the studio then, I have somethin’ I wanna show you.”

********

It’s 5:10 when Alani makes her way back to Napua. Harry had texted her beforehand to say that the door would be open, so she lets herself in and scans the quiet room. She hears the soft keys of a piano, but the room is dim and she has to get closer to see that it’s Harry seated there. Candles are perched around the room and Alani watches her step, reaching a hand to Harry’s shoulder when she reaches him. He stops playing and flashes a soft smile, inviting her to join him on the bench.

“Digging the ambience,” Alani remarks lightly, not entirely reading his mood.

He shrugs. “Just felt right,”

Harry’s fingers return to the keys and he starts with a somber chord that makes Alani’s breath hitch. His vocals are raw and gritty, but stronger than she had ever heard him sing and it nearly moves her to tears. She hangs on every word and burns them into her mind for safe keeping, though she doubts that she could ever forget this moment even if she tried. Harry picks up into the chorus and leaves nothing behind, diving straight into the wave without fear of wiping out. Alani tries, but she can’t contain the tears that spill over her cheek. It’s as if every ounce of apprehension and anxiety, every doubt and moment of insecurity is cleansed from her soul right in this very moment. When the song comes to an end, she immediately wishes to relive it and tries to find the right words in response.

“That was incredible,” Alani clears her throat. “What’s it called?”

“Sign of the Times,” he responds. “Not really sure about it,”

She furrows her brows in confusion, but quickly realizes that he’s being honest and not fishing for compliments.

“Why?”

“It’s… different,”

“Than?”

He thinks for a moment and chooses his next words carefully. “Anything I‘ve ever done before,”

“And why’s that bad?” Alani questions with a comforting hand weaving its way into his hair.

“Dunno,” Harry sighs, leaning into her touch. “I just don’t wanna get it wrong,”

At this moment, “it” isn’t just the song. Everything about his new solo career, and his life in general, is a toss up, and one that he isn’t sure will land in his favor. Alani has no doubts, though, not when it comes to her faith in Harry’s abilities.

“Are you happy?” she asks.

He looks over to her and thinks that he couldn’t possibly be more content. “Yeah,”

“Then you’re already succeeding. If you’re happy with what you’re doing, then no one can tell you that you’re not successful,”

Harry feels his own wave of emotions pooling at the bottom of his lash line and he’s grateful that the low lighting conceals it. He closes the gap between their lips, palm secure against the side of Alani’s face as he keeps her close.

“There’s somethin’ else I wanted to talk to you about,” Harry says gently and Alani feels her heartbeat pick up.

“Okay,”

He isn’t sure how to approach the subject, despite the fact that it’s been the only thing on his mind for days, so he decides to trust his gut and speak from the heart.

“These past few weeks with you,” he starts slowly. “Have been the best of my entire life. When I’m with you, it’s like nothing else in the entire world matters, and nothing bad could ever happen to me because there’s you,”

Another tear rolls down Alani’s face and Harry wipes it away with the pad of his thumb.

“All I asked for was a chance,” he continues. “And it feels like you’ve given me the entire world. Do you remember the day when we saw that rainbow?”

“Yes,” Alani nods, voice small.

“You told me to wish for something, and I did. I wished for a home. I didn’t know why, but that word wouldn’t leave me alone after you said it. But I think I understand it now, because I’m in a place I’ve never been before, physically and in my life generally, but you make it feel like home. You bring me home,”

Alani feels as if all of the air inside her lungs has been sucked out, and her grip on Harry’s wrist tightens because she worries that if he lets go, she’ll float away like a helium balloon.

“I know I’m not perfect,” Harry continues, voice wavering. “But this thing we have feels like it could set the world on fire, and I’d gladly walk in the flames for you. So would you please say you’ll be mine and let me prove it?”

“Yes,” Alani breathes, tears of relief and joy still streaming down her face. “But I need a moment to compose an appropriate girlfriend acceptance speech,”

Harry grins and presses their lips together as if she’s the only source of air.

“Seriously,” Alani chuckles when they pull apart. “Cause how the fuck could I top that?”

“Y’don’t need to. Saying yes was all I needed,”

She unclasps her fingers from his, draping her arms around his shoulders instead, and takes a deep breath. “You’re everything, you know that? You’re the sun and the whole universe revolves around you.”

“And you’re the most heavenly moon,” Harry responds thinking back to the meaning of her name. “Mahealani.”

********

Thursday

When Alani’s father had asked for her help setting up a wedding that was taking place at the resort this weekend, she jumped at the chance. It wasn’t often that she got to be involved in the events at Honu, but she adored the luxurious five star hotel and all of its amenities. She had helped her dad cater numerous events over the years and weddings were her absolute favorite, especially because of the beautiful gowns and all of the blissfully happy couples. It felt like a privilege to glimpse into the most special moments in the lives of strangers she would probably never see again. Alani had been tasked with meeting the bride and collecting any last minute meal cards or notes of dietary restrictions from guests. The wedding was to take place the following night, but all the food prep would begin that afternoon in order to adequately prepare.

“I think that’s all. There were just a few last minute adjustments,” the bride, Mila, says pulling out an envelope from her bag.

“No offense,” Alani starts. “But shouldn’t you be resting? I mean isn’t the maid of honor supposed to do all this? Or a wedding planner?”

Mila sighs, an embarrassed smile spreading across her rosy lips. “I know, I’m just a bit of a control freak. I like things done a certain way,”

“Totally understandable,”

“Like the music thing,” Mila rolls her eyes. “It was my fiancé’s idea. He said that DJs were boring and wanted to let the guests choose their own songs, instead. So that was my compromise. I’m trying,”

Alani offers a chuckle and shuffles the last of the cards into her stack. “Sounds like you’re already mastering this whole marriage thing,”

“Are you married?” the bride asks, curiously.

“Oh, no I’m not,”

“Got a boyfriend?”

Alani’s cheeks warm and her lips curl. “Yes,”

“Knew it,” Mila comments with a knowing smirk. “You’re too pretty to be single. And you’ve got the look,”

“What look?” Alani questions.

Mila flutters her lashes and sighs. “The ‘I’m in love and I don’t care who knows it’ look. Like a Disney princess,”

Alani laughs shyly and focuses her attention back to the envelopes in front of her.

“What’s his name?” the bride pries.

“Harry,”

“That’s a good one,” Mila considers tapping her lower lip. “Like the Prince of England. Maybe you will be a princess, after all,”

Alani is amused by the irony of her statement, but she chooses not to disclose the fact that her boyfriend actually is British, albeit, not a Royal. Instead, she chooses to deflect the attention back onto the bride.

“And what’s your lucky guy’s name?”

“Chad,”

“Like the country,”

“Yeah,” Mila giggles. “Like the country,”

“And what’s he like?”

Mila rests her chin in her hand and a dreamy look settles into her hazel eyes. “Funny. He wanted to be a comedian, but he became a lawyer, instead. That’s how we met— law school,”

“What kind of law do you practice?”

“Ironic enough,” Mila chuckles. “Family and divorce law. I never thought I’d get married, I mean I literally hear about people falling out of love every day. But the thing about love is that it’s effort, and a lot of people aren’t willing to put in the work. It doesn’t feel like work when it’s the right person, though. Just feels like ‘how can I be the best possible partner to this human that I love so much?’”

Alani considers this, her mind immediately wandering to Harry and all of his thoughtful gestures. “Makes sense,”

“Chad is a patent lawyer,” Mila continues. “He’s the more creative, outgoing one, I guess. He makes things light when it gets too heavy, you know? It’s good to have someone like that,”

“Yeah, definitely,”

“What’s your guy like? What does he do?” Mila asks with a flirty grin.

“He’s, uh,” Alani thinks for a second trying to be as vague as possible. “A musician,”

Mila gives an approving nod. “Dreamy. Bet he writes lots of songs about you,”

“Maybe,”

“Don’t be shy,” Mila urges. “Come on, it’s just us girls. Spill,”

Alani thinks for a moment and imagines that the same dream cloud must be present over her own features.

“Well he’s kind, thoughtful, romantic, and wise. Really funny, too. I don’t know he just—he makes me wanna be a better person, really,”

“Wow,” the bride marvels. “Sounds like a hell of a guy,”

“He is,”

Mila leans in conspiratorially and Alani does the same. “Speaking as an expert, I think it’s gonna last forever,”

“You think?” Alani asks.

“Oh yeah,” Mila assures her. “When you’re so used to studying fake love, you get really good at recognizing the real deal,”

Alani offers her an appreciative smile and nods. “Thank you,”

Mila’s eyes light up suddenly and she grabs Alani by both hands. “Hey you should bring him! Yeah, you two should come, I insist,”

“Oh, I—”

“Please, say you will! Maybe he can throw in some good music recommendations to offset the terrible ones,”

Alani chuckles and she knows immediately that Harry would leap at the chance to do so. “Okay, sure.”

“Yay!” Mila cheers, reaching into her planner and jotting a note down. “Harry and Alani at the lovebird’s table.”

********

“Hey, sweets,” Harry beams, pulling up to the front of the hotel in the Cadillac. “Waiting on your boyfriend or are you just in the habit of standing on sidewalks lookin’ cute?”

“The former,” Alani responds coyly. “He’ll be here any minute,”

“And he’s got a pretty girl like you waiting outside like this? You should dump him,”

She shrugs and turns on her heel for a stroll while Harry gently eases off the breaks to follow. “I don’t know, I’m kinda fond of him,”

“S’that so?” he continues with a smirk.

“Yup,” she sighs. “He’s kind of a dork, but I like that about him,”

“Heyyy—”

“And he’s a good kisser. The best at cuddling, too,”

“Sounds like a catch,”

“He is. You two should meet sometime,”

The car comes to a halt and Alani slips inside, scooting all the way down the bench seat next to Harry.

“Funny, you should be a comedian,” he quips.

Alani’s brow furrows and she shoots him a doe-eyed look. “What’s the joke?”

Harry laughs dryly, ignoring the pang of irrational jealousy that strikes him in the chest. “You’re a little too good at this bit, it’s starting to feel like we're not talkin’ about me anymore,”

“Oh, were we supposed to be talking about you?”

His head whips over to Alani who clutches her stomach with laughter. “I’m kidding, baby, of course I’m talking about you,”

“No, who is he?” Harry demands playfully with a deep furrow between his brows. “Tell me, I’ll hurt him,”

Alani slots their lips together and his pout eases into a grin.

“Hey what are you doing tomorrow night?” she asks, feeling the ocean breeze through her hair.

Harry flashes a dimple in her direction. “Anything you want, s’long as we’re together,”

“Will you be my plus one?”

“To?”

“A wedding,” Alani explains. “The one my dad’s catering at Honu,”

His eyebrows raise and he smiles wide. “Are we crashing it?”

“No,” she laughs. “We were invited. I was hanging out with the bride today and she added us to the list,”

“‘Kay, but I’m still gonna pretend we crashed it,”

Alani drapes her arms around his shoulders and leans her head against his. “Where are we going?”

“Damn, I thought I had you distracted,”

“Boyfriend rule #1: You have to tell me where we’re going always,”

Harry narrows his eyes. “That’s not a real rule because surprises are romantic,”

“Too bad,” Alani shrugs.

“But don’t you enjoy my surprises?”

“Usually,”

“Then I’m adding a new rule,” Harry bargains. “The girlfriend can not ask the boyfriend to disclose the location of a date if they’re already in the car,”

“That’s not fair, I was already in the car when the rule was made!”

“Too bad.”

Alani pinches his cheek and slinks back into her own seat. She tells him about the bride and the groom, what she knows, at least, and about the decision to have their guests RSVP with a song of their choice to play at the reception.

“D’you know what you’re gonna pick?” Harry asks.

“Yeah,” Alani nods. “I Wanna Dance with Somebody by Whitney Houston, obviously,”

“Obviously,” he agrees.

“You?”

“Dunno, yet. Have to narrow it down,”

Alani admires the heart-shaped glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. “Well you better make it good, cause Mila knows that you’re a musician and she’s expecting you to balance out her friends’ shitty music taste,”

“You were talkin’ about me?” he teases.

“Well, yeah, how else do you think you got invited?”

“You have such a crush on me, s’cute,”

Alani playfully pokes his cheek. “We’re literally dating, dummy,”

“Don’t get defensive,” Harry jokes. “Cause I’ve got a crush on you too.”

“God, we’re so annoying.”

Harry grins and presses a kiss to her temple. They pull into the Port of Hilo and he magically produces a picnic basket from the backseat, a bottle of Moët et Chandon rosé peeking out. Alani slips her fingers between his and follows as he leads them to a sizable speed boat anchored and waiting for them.

“The Carolina,” Alani reads, admiring the golden cursive on the side.

“Like someone else I know,” Harry winks.

He escorts her onto the vessel and she waits to see when the captain will join them, but confusion washes over her when she sees Harry poking around with the equipment.

“What are you doing?”

“As much fun as it would be to eat at the dock,” he begins. “I think it would be more fun to take ole Carolina for a spin,”

“You mean you’re gonna drive this thing?” Alani questions, though she doesn’t know why she’s surprised by him anymore.

“Pilot,” Harry corrects. “But yes,”

Alani blinks and tries to wrap her head around the idea of Harry piloting a boat. “And you’re allowed to do that?”

“Sure.”

“Wow,” she marvels to herself with an incredulous laugh. “I’m dating a sailor.”

Harry flashes Alani a wink over his shoulder and before she knows it, they’re heading away from the dock. She carefully stands from the lounging area at the back and sneaks over to Harry, arms wrapping around his torso with her chin propped on his shoulder. He steers with one hand and extends the other, recreating the iconic Titanic boat scene.

“I’m flying, Jack!” he calls over his shoulder and Alani giggles, responding with her best improvised rendition of My Heart Will Go On.

They sail out for a bit longer before Harry stops the boat and turns to her. “Ta da!”

“By jove, he’s done it!” Alani praises.

Harry takes a bow and reaches over for the picnic basket, pulling out the rosé and two champagne flutes. He hands them to Alani and spreads their meal on the lounging area at the back: vegetable stir fry and noodles with chocolate covered strawberries for desert.

“You did all this?” Alani muses.

He takes each flute from her hand and fills them halfway. “It’s a special occasion,”

“I feel like an asshole for not knowing what it is,”

“Don’t,” Harry chuckles, handing her the wine. “I mean it’s not really like—I just realized it,”

“What is it?”

Harry raises his glass and clears his throat. “Exactly three months ago, I got off a plane and I stumbled into a little café where the most beautiful and funny and smart waitress served me about twenty glasses of water until I nearly pissed my pants in front of her,”

Alani giggles at the memory, disbelief settling in when she considers how fast the time had flown.

“And despite all of the embarrassing and idiotic things I’ve done since,” he continues. “She agreed to be my girlfriend, for reasons I have yet to understand. So today I celebrate her, and us, and all of lucky stars that brought our paths together,”

They clink their glasses together and Alani presses a cool kiss to his lips. “Cheers, baby,”

“There’s one more thing,” Harry says, holding a finger up.

Alani scoffs. “It’s like fucking Pandora’s box in there!”

He pulls out a velvet box and her heart stops.

“Wait, what are you—”

“It’s not what you think,” he explains quickly. “Sorry, maybe should’ve thought this through better,”

Harry opens the lid and lifts a gold chain with a crescent moon pendant and a smaller sun in the center.

“Saw it in a shop this morning,” he says softly. “Seemed like fate, so I got it,”

“Harry,” Alani breathes, eyes already glossy.

“D’you like it?”

“I love it! It’s beautiful,” she says, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. “Thank you so much.”

He fastens the necklace for her and she admires it with gentle fingers. The sun and the moon, a piece of them cast in gold and resting against her beating heart forever.

********

Friday

“Wow,” Harry gawks, his eyes raking in Alani’s appearance. A baby pink tulle dress falls just above her knee with puffy sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, all cinched at the waist with a small bow. Tiny velvet hearts are speckled all over the dress, in true Alani fashion, and a pair of sparkling, pink heels accentuate her toned calves.

“Wow yourself,” she counters, drinking in the peek of exposed skin behind his cream colored blazer. The blue dress shirt underneath is unbuttoned just above the butterfly on his stomach and a cross is nestled in the valley between his pecs. He holds out a bouquet of sunflowers between his ringed fingers and Alani accepts them gratefully, moving to the side so he can step into the house.

“These are gorgeous, thank you,” she says, lifting them to her nose.

“Welcome,” he smiles softly, swiping the pad of his thumb against her chin. “You are gorgeous,”

Alani presses her rose tinted lips to his carefully and pulls back to admire him again. “And you are so good looking it actually makes me mad.”

Harry laughs and pulls her closer for another sweet kiss before he hears the clearing of another person’s throat.

“Have her back by midnight,” Pua teases with her arms crossed. “Or I’ll hunt you down.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harry salutes before bending down to address Freddie.

Alani passes the sunflowers to her sister with a kiss to her cheek before hooking an arm under Harry’s and heading out. They hop into the convertible and the sun catches the golden pendant around her neck, bringing a soft smile to his face.

“Hope those are your dancin’ shoes,” Harry remarks. “Cause we’re goin’ full Dirty Dancing tonight,”

“Lift and all?”

“Lift and all,”

She runs her fingers over the silver rose on his ring finger. “You know, I think we’re finally gonna nail it this time.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry agrees. “They won’t know what hit ‘em.”

When they arrive at Honu, the other guests are shuffling from the parking lot and onto the private beach where the reception will take place. Alani plucks a card from her bag to drop into the box at the entrance while Harry pulls a medium sized box from behind his seat.

“You got a real gift?” Alani questions, a light laugh erupting. “We don’t even know these people,”

Harry tucks the gift under his arm and shrugs. “I put your name on it too, don’t worry,”

“Well now they’ll have a giftcard to Ikea and whatever’s in your mystery box.”

“It’s also a giftcard to Ikea, but wrapped in a big box.”

Alani nudges his shoulder playfully and scans the groups mingling and flocking to the mini bar. She waves to a member of her dad’s kitchen staff attending to the hors d’oeuvres before they are greeted by the manager of the guest list.

“Alani and Harry,” she says to the tall woman behind the podium.

“Ah yes,” the woman responds. “The Lovebirds table, number 9.”

“Guess Mila wasn’t joking about that.” Alani chuckles lightly, taking both of their name cards.

Harry locates their table and to his surprise, no one else is present yet, but he pulls Alani’s chair out for her and pushes it back in once she’s seated.

“Champagne?” he asks, nodding to the bar.

“Oui, s'il vous plaît."

He plants a kiss to the top of her head and makes his way to collect their drinks. Alani’s eyes follow the stringed lights overhead and she quickly realizes that they lead to a disco ball hanging above the center of the dance floor. Well done, Mila. She thinks to herself with an approving nod. The colors, she gathers, are lilac and periwinkle, incorporated into all of the floral arrangements and cloth details. They match the color of the sky above and Alani knows that the bride must be ecstatic over this detail. Harry returns with their drinks and sets them down gently onto the white tablecloth.

“None of our fellow lovebirds have arrived yet, huh?” he muses, taking a sip of his champagne.

Alani shakes her head and brings the glass to her lips. “Must be too busy making out in the parking lot,”

“You told me we didn’t have time for that.”

“I’m not gonna ruin my lipstick before we’ve even arrived.”

Harry shakes his fist to the sky and Alani giggles. They both admire the view and the children in the wedding party who are testing how close they can get to the water before an adult drags them away. The sky turns to a shade of cotton candy above them and someone announces that the bride and groom are arriving. Harry and Alani stand and welcome the newly weds with applause and whistles. Mila and Chad share a sweet kiss and the crowd goes wild. One man, most likely a friend of the groom, shouts “I love you Chad!” and laughter erupts. They take their seats and the rest of the wedding party follows suit, which means that the rest of the guests are free to return to their chatting and socializing.

“I’m beginning to think we were put in the time out table.” Harry jokes when they are still not joined by any other guests.

A light laugh escapes Alani’s lips and she looks around. “Yeah I guess so.”

The servers arrive with their meal and the pair eat happily, exchanging witty banter and observations of the scene around them. Harry sucks a piece of linguine between his lips and turns to Alani with a mischievous smirk.

“No,” Alani says, already knowing what he’s up to.

“Don’t leave me hangin’,”

“Eat your food.”

“Alaniii,”

She shakes her head gently and rolls her eyes, but decides to indulge him anyway. Their lips meet in the middle of the shared noodle and Harry smiles.

“Always wanted to try that.”

A few moments later, he notices a card in the middle of the table and lifts it.

“‘Trivia,’” he reads. “‘Test your knowledge of the bride and groom and win a prize.’ Let’s play, shall we?”

“What’s the first question?” Alani asks, peering over to read the small font.

“‘What year did Mila and Chad meet?”

Alani hums, thinking back to her previous conversation with the bride. “They met in law school, that’s all I know,”

“2009,” Harry guesses. “Who said ‘I love you’ first?”

“Definitely Chad,” she replies firmly. “Mila didn’t think she’d ever get married,”

“I thought you said you didn’t know these people,”

“I guess I was wrong,”

Harry squints at the next one. “What are their zodiac signs?”

“I wanna say Virgo for Mila,” Alani suggests. “Maybe… Aquarius for Chad?”

“That’s my sign,” Harry comments, writing down her guesses.

Alani’s brows raise. “No kidding. Makes a lot of sense,”

“What’s yours?”

“Taurus,”

“I don’t know anythin’ about astrology. Are we compatible?”

“Probably not,” Alani teases.

Harry shoots her a disapproving look and reads the next question. “Where did they go on their first date?”

“The movies,” she predicts. “Safe bet,”

“‘Akaka Falls,” Harry writes. “That was ours,”

Alani’s head tilts. “We weren’t even dating then,”

“Yeah but I was tryin’ to win you over, so it counts,”

“Sneaky.”

“Who is the bride’s celebrity crush?” Harry continues. “Hopefully not James Marsden or this guy’s fucked.”

Alani laughs and she pulls him in for a playful kiss to his cheek. The pink sunset dims into a deep navy and the stringed lights twinkle above, setting the whole scene in a romantic, golden glow. Guests walk past their table holding strips of photo booth pictures and Harry’s neck cranes to search for the source. His eyes land on a small line at the other end of the beach and he stands quickly.

“Let’s go,”

“Where?”

“Photo booth!”

To Alani’s surprise it’s an actual booth, curtains and all, and not just some poor sucker tasked with operating a polaroid camera the whole night. They stand in line eagerly behind two groomsmen and brainstorm poses. Once they’re inside, Alani settles onto Harry’s knee and watches as he operates the machine. The screen counts down from ten and they decide to flash a proper smile for the first one. After it’s snapped, Harry sticks his tongue out and Alani widens her eyes in mock surprise. The third one is a candid, slightly blurry one of them laughing after she accidentally poked him in the eye. A lipstick kiss is stamped to Harry’s cheek in the fourth one, but the pair innocently look away in opposite directions. The fifth and final image captures their affection mid kiss. They swipe the two sets of photos and Alani awes, admiring the black and white film strip. Before they make it back to their table, Alani feels a hand on her arm.

“Alani!” Mila beams.

“Hi!” Alani greets, pulling the bride into a hug. “You look gorgeous,”

“I’m so glad you came! I love your dress,”

Mila turns her attention towards Harry and gives him a warm embrace, too. “You must be Harry! So nice to meet you,”

“Thank you for having us!” he says over the music.

“I see you guys put the photo booth to good use,” Mila comments. “Now go dance! There’s an ipad next to the stage, just queue up your songs.”

Alani and Harry bid the bride farewell, but before they leave, Mila leans into Alani’s ear and whispers “he’s a hottie!” with a wink. They set their photos down inside Alani’s purse and Harry leads her towards the dance floor. She punches in her request and he secretly types the song that’s been stuck in his head all week. Fantasy by Mariah Carey is already playing when they reach the floor, so they join in excitedly. Alani’s hips sway and Harry’s head bobs, both of them mouthing the lyrics. The song fades and Alani’s pick begins, which makes the crowd roar.

“The people have spoken and they love Whitney!” she cheers.

Harry twirls her and shuffles his feet. Alani shimmies and sings along, the lyrics falling from her lips like a prayer.

I wanna dance with somebody

I wanna feel the heat with somebody

Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody

With somebody who loves me

The dance floor is flooded with bodies jumping and swaying, and the disco ball shimmers above the euphoric scene. Alani and Harry spin, making their way through the crowd and letting the music sweep over them like a magical spell. Beads of sweat form at the back of her neck and she lifts her wavy locks to let the ocean breeze cool her down, but her feet don’t stop moving. Eventually, her song peters out and a familiar guitar fills its place.

“I love this song!” Alani cries, immediately recognizing The Cure.

Harry pulls her closer, despite the warmth radiating from both of their bodies, and presses a passionate kiss to her lips. They are surrounded on every side, but in this very moment under the full moon and shimmering disco ball, Harry and Alani feel like the only two people alive. Their foreheads meet and they sway gently, his hands secure at her waist while her fingers toy with the hair at the base of his neck.

It’s Friday, I’m in love.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #ybmh #ALSO i would just like it to be known that I wrote this before *those* photos so harry get your own romantic gestures >:(#kidding bae <3

31 notes · View notes

winterrose527 · 3 years

Text

but I've never felt this way for no one

for @simple-aphorisms who gave me this delicious prompt. apologies, I went full feral.

I got my driver’s license last week, just like we always talked about…

If he had to guess, he had heard the opening lines to that song roughly 40 bajillion times. Ever since it had come out over the winter, every party he went to devolved into a raucous, off-key chorus no less than three times as everyone stopped what they were doing to sing that song.

He wasn’t going to lie. It was, for lack of a better, less cringey word, a bop. The first weekend it had come out, he’d listened to it a fair bit. The first time he’d ever heard it at a party, was because he had been the one to put it on.

So he got it. Olivia Rodrigo was a talent. Possibly the next Taylor Swift, though that was a debate he never wanted to get into or hear again after the Great War between Sansa and Theon that had lasted for seven days and eight long nights.

That being said, nothing, and he meant nothing – not even the day her full album had come out and he’d come out into the living room to see Jon and Theon crying to Enough for You – had prepared him for this car ride.

He was sitting in the back seat of Myrcella Baratheon’s Range Rover, Grey Wind sprawled out on top of him. His sister Sansa and her best friend Myrcella were in the front seat, where they had been for the last three hours as Myrcella drove them all back to school from Winterfell, where they’d gone for the long weekend.

Of those last three hours… no less than 2 hours and 45 minutes of it had been dedicated to Olivia Rodrigo. The lion’s share of it to this song.

Now he considered himself a patient man. He was possibly alone in this opinion, but nevertheless he did. But on the thousandth rendition of red lights! Stop signs! He’d lost it.

Not his temper, his mind.

Because the thing was. Myrcella Baratheon was singing at the top of her lungs. Putting her little heart into it.

It wasn’t like she had a bad voice or anything. In fact, she had a beautiful voice. The first time he’d ever heard it he’d gotten actual chills.

The trouble was, this was a song about a break up. And he was fairly certain they were still very much together.

He had, after all, woken up in her bed that morning. And what they’d done after that had given him every indication that they were together.

The thing was though, that’s all he had.

An indication. A feeling.

Okay, a lot of feelings. A mess of them.

These were the facts as far as he understood them.

Early on this semester, around the same time this blasted song had come out, he and Myrcella had been at a party. She’d come with some girls from the Art History program, he’d been there with a few guys from his rugby team. Sansa was nowhere to be found, and neither was Jon or Theon.

He’d seen her from across the room, standing with a couple of girls, and crossed over to her.

Myrcella Baratheon was just the sort of girl you had to cross a party for.

“You’re here!” she exclaimed, as though she’d been waiting for him all night.

“Where else would I be?” he asked.

“On the dance floor maybe,” she grinned.

“Doesn’t sound like me,” he grinned back.

And then her hand was in his, pulling it gently, her eyebrow raised, “Not even if I asked reeeeally nicely?”

So they’d danced. Things had gotten pretty messy. There was a sloppy dance floor make out, followed by a rather aggressive one up against the side of whatever house they were at. A cold walk back to his. His bedroom. Clothes removed. And then just her.

And ever since then it had sort of just continued on like that. They were always together, since her friends were his, and there were always more dance floors to make out on.

He and Myrcella had been having sex with regularity for the past two months, and as far as he knew, Myrcella didn’t do casual sex. But she was also the only girl in the known universe who didn’t press the what are we? talk.

Not only did she not press it, she seemed unconcerned with it entirely.

It was unnerving.

And now, here she was, singing her pretty little heart out to one of the best break up songs of all time with conviction.

“Sing it, Robby!” Sansa turned around.

“No,” he grunted.

Myrcella’s eye flicked to his briefly in the rearview as she banged on the steering wheel.

Sansa turned back around and pointed to a sign for a rest stop, “Oh can we go in there? I want a coffee.”

The last bars of the song played as Myrcella pulled in, dropping Sansa off in front of the complex.

“I’m going to fill up with gas,” she told Sansa who promptly ran inside and then glanced at him, “Are you going in?”

“So you can leave me here?” he asked.

She bursted out laughing as she drove to the gas pumps, “Well you have been rather grumpy but not enough to justify abandoning you on the side of the road just yet.”

Myrcella parked and turned off the car and he got out and slammed his door shut, undoing the gas cap.

“What are you doing?” she asked him. Suddenly she was next to him.

“You hate pumping gas,” he reminded her.

She was such a priss about things like that. It was so annoying and hot.

“You have a unique ability to be a complete ass and a total gentleman all at the same time,” Myrcella informed him, “Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Not lately,” he growled. Watching the numbers go up. Ignoring her fresh face and her golden curls pooling out of the neck of her cream fleece. “Because I am not dating anyone else. Are you?”

“How would I be dating anyone else?” she asked him, “I mean just logistically in your brain how would that work? Do I have a time machine? Oh because if I did have a time machine I would definitely use it for sex reasons. Because I’m Theon. You incredible asshat.”

“What did you just call me?” he asked, angrily closing the gas cap.

“An asshat,” she repeated, “Meaning your head is so far up your ass you are literally wearing it as a hat!”

“Why are you singing the song like that?!” he growled at her.

She bit her lip, “Well, because it’s an incredible song.”

“Are you singing it about someone?” he asked. “You were near to tears on the last one!”

“Well maybe,” she brushed her fingers up his chest, “I was thinking how I’d feel if you ever decided you didn’t want to be with me. Though that was before this conversation.”

His hands went to her waist, pulling her towards him, slipping underneath her fleece and t shirt to her bare, warm skin.

“You called me an asshat,” he told her.

She grinned, her arms looping around his neck, “Well you’re acting like one.” She laughed, “And I must be one too, because even when you’re a total asshat, I’m pretty sure I love you anyway.”

“Baby,” he lifted her up, nuzzling his nose against hers, “I know I’m not perfect, but I’ve never felt this way for no one.”

She laughed. Cackled. Her head thrown back, exposing her creamy neck that he couldn’t help but kiss even at a gas station.

“You do realize you just quoted Olivia Rodrigo, don’t you?” she asked.

He hadn’t realized that. Apparently after 40 bajillion listens it had somehow just come out.

“Well,” he teased, “She is the next Taylor Swift.”

“Oh no!” she wrestled out of his arms.

“What’s wrong?” Sansa asked as she came to them holding a tray with three coffees in it.

“We’re leaving Robb here,” Myrcella told her, “Say your goodbyes.”

“Myrcella!” he laughed.

“Why don’t you call Theon for a ride you reductive asshat!” Myrcella argued.

With that she started walking around the car and he chased after her, picking her back up and carrying her to the passenger seat.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m driving,” he told her, “You’re too worked up. You’re being a little crazy.” And then he kissed her cheek, “But uh I love you anyway.”

He felt her grin even though she rolled her eyes as she buckled her seat. Sansa got in the back and he went around to the driver’s seat and got in. It took him a few minutes to adjust the seat because his girlfriend was teeny, and he used the time to plug his phone into the USB.

“Do you know what the best thing about being the driver is?” he asked them.

“What’s that?” Sansa asked from the back.

“You get to control the music,” he informed her.

And as he pulled away from the gas station, and the opening bars of Driver’s License came on through his phone, Myrcella Baratheon leaned over and kissed his cheek.

He’d forgotten how much he truly loved this song.

#fanfiction #modern au #robbcella #fluff #silly #idiots

11 notes · View notes

feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

Text

chapter eleven: the end of the world

The next morning was a cold, gray, and soggy one, but Sam had no intention on returning to Louie's apartment for another round that day: she had already packed her things in the back seat and she nestled down in the front seat with her arms folded across her chest and the lapels of her jacket pulled up to her ears. She had no hood or something to cover her head but she wished for one. She didn't want to be seen. Louie himself meanwhile, locked the door behind him and he headed down the steps. She looked on at him as he rounded the front end of the car and opened the door. She sighed through her nose as he climbed into the front seat.

“You okay?” he asked her in a low voice, and she nodded her head.

“Look—I was thinking about this last night before I fell asleep, too,” he started, “neither of us mean to inflame or kick up any old wounds with anyone. We're just—fooling around, messing around, you know?”

She gazed out the window right as he said that. She had nothing to say to that.

“If either of us made you uncomfortable—and I can tell we did—we didn't mean to. I didn't mean to, and I know Alex didn't mean to, either. And for that, I want to personally apologize to you for it.”

Sam never moved from her spot in the seat next to him. She couldn't hardly stop thinking about any of what went down the night before, such that it almost brought a tear to her eye.

“Also—I, uh—” he stammered and then he cleared his throat, “—hate to tell you this, but I'm kinda out of money.”

She turned her attention over to him and frowned.

“What do you mean you're out of money?” she demanded.

“I'm out of money,” he repeated, “well, for now anyway. Remember what I said yesterday, I had enough for breakfast and a cab?”

“Oh, right, right.” She hesitated. “So what's this mean?”

“Well, I have a full tank of fuel to start with,” he stated, to which she frowned and scoffed at that.

“Louie, we're not driving back to Elsinore from here—it's too far.” She was scorn.

“But the train already left, though,” he pointed out. “It's kind of overkill to fly on down to Elsinore, too.”

She sighed through her nose again.

“Don't really feel like driving through the valley, either,” he added.

“Yeah, it's boring as hell,” she said in a soft voice.

“Boring as hell and still hot as fuck, too,” he said, “at least here we have a bit of leeway with the San Francisco fog. Seven hours of nothin'.” He paused for a second. “We could take the coast.”

“That's longer, though,” she pointed out.

“Nicer, though,” he insisted.

“True. It's way nicer, actually.”

“Bet you've missed the Pacific Coast, too,” he said.

“I have—it's one of the many things I haven't been able to do like at all. Especially when I was growing up out here.”

“Really?” Louie was genuinely taken aback by that.

“Yeah.”

“Well, let's—” He set his hand on the ignition key and turned it. “Let's.”

Sam strapped herself in and Louie shook his head of hair about a bit.

“One thing I really wanted to do with Zelda,” he started again as he pulled on the parking lever, “when we were together was go on a road trip with her somewhere. I always considered driving from Providence down to some place like D.C., or go all the way down to like West Virginia. The two of us on a trip together and just hanging out together.”

“What kept you from doing it?” she asked him.

“Touring and making albums—and dealing with record company horse shit in her case—and in my case it was living a double life. There was no way I could do it, not with my other life in full swing.”

They pulled ahead and began up the block, around the cemetery and towards the block on the other side.

“So—I haven't really taken the Pacific Coast Highway much from my place so just kind of—like—bear with me here,” he sputtered.

“It's okay, it's okay.”

Louie glanced over at her at one point as they rolled up to a stoplight.

“You know—and I'm being perfectly honest with you here, Sam—I'm a little intimidated by you,” he confessed.

“You?” she asked him.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I dunno,” he replied with a shake of his head, “but there's just something about you that completely intimidates me. Like it's hard for me to maintain composure when I'm near you.”

“There's no reason to be, though,” she promised him.

“But I feel it anyways, though. It could be because you made a bold move in moving across the country and back again, but I can't really say for sure.”

“Funny you say that 'cause you did that,” she pointed out.

“True. But see, you weren't living a double life like I was.”

“I mean, I kinda am now,” she assured him.

“How so?”

“Joey doesn't know about Bill. He also doesn't know that I'm hanging out with you guys, either. For the record, Bill doesn't know that I'm hanging out with you guys, either. It's like a triangle of sorts with me come to think of it.”

“A delta,” said Louie.

“A delta?”

“Yeah. You know the Greek letter delta?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah!”

“Apparently in the realm of science, it's symbolic of change. Like change in temperature or heat.”

“How do you know that?”

“I dunno if she's shown you this but Morgan—you know, Morgan from the Cherry Suicides—has this old chemistry textbook back at her place. She found it in the garbage believe it or not.”

“Something wrong about that,” Sam declared.

“Oh, yeah. Unless it's actually trash, books do not belong in the trash. But yeah, she found it and I just happened to prop it open one day, and I read a tidbit in a chapter about equations at one point.”

“Huh. Bill has a bunch of old books at his place—mostly old literature, but it's worth a peek, though. I keep meaning to crack them open but I'm not sure where to begin.”

The light turned green and Louie lunged ahead on the street. The clouds hung even lower over them as he merged lanes and they headed for the 880 Freeway. To the right of them was the stretch of gray waters that made up the very Bay itself.

“If you ever come back up here this way,” he started again, “you know you're in a car on the P.C.H., you've got to cross the Golden Gate Bridge at some point. There's just—something majestic about it, even if you've lived here your whole life like the five of us. Well, four of us, anyway, unless Chuck was telling a fib about where he was born. This will take us right by Santa Clara and down to the interchange in San Jose, which'll in turn take us all the way down the coastline to the City of Angels.”

Sam nodded her head and she peered out the windshield to the gray overhead. To think that the assumption with the California coast was all bright sunshine and infinite beaches: it made her laugh the more in which she thought about it.

“What's even the deal with him, anyway?” Louie asked her out of the blue.

“Who, Bill?” She looked over at him with her eyebrows knitted together and he took a glimpse over at her.

“Yeah.”

“Well,” she began, “I mean, you were sitting right there when I called Chuck and told him what was going on.”

“Pff, how could I forget? But what I'm asking is—is there like a time limit with him? Like you signed a marriage contract plus a prenup but surely someone over at the school has to figure that out at some point because it's totally illegal. Setting you up like that and forcing you into something that you had no desire to get into and then threatening a whole bunch of bullshit with you like locking you in your room and forbidding you from going out and visiting people.”

“Well, when I first came out here and I spoke to Marla over the phone—you know, she's been trying to get a job and she finally did with Belinda up in Albany. But she went to the school and she told them that he was still on the payroll. He got fired, Louie, but there was some weird glitch of some sort so he still got paid and he got paid a lot of money, too. So he was able to afford that large house and care for his daughters, such that he enlisted them in a private school.”

“So he loses his paycheck, he's fucked, basically,” he followed along.

“Yeah. Unless he got something to help him out when we weren't looking, he's probably got to pull the girls out of school and sell the house.”

“And what happens to you if and when that happens?” he asked her.

“I—” She froze. Louie glanced over at her with his eyebrows raised. “I—don't know. Oh, wait!” She snapped her fingers.

“What's that?”

“My mom's moving down to the Southland soon. Where exactly is another question, though. She might be going out to Catalina or she might be going to San Pedro, I dunno.”

“Or you can go back to Joey,” he pointed out. “You know, make things easier on your mom. It's another cross country, for sure, but I feel it'd be more beneficial to take that risk again and go with him rather than put extra pressure on your mom like that. But that's my opinion, though. You do whatever you want.”

“There should be a way to null it, too,” she added.

“Yeah, being in a car with another dude,” he joked, and that brought a laugh out of her.

Within time, signs for the interchange came into their view and Louie took the next exit which looped around and met up with the Pacific Coast Highway. Right as they matched up with the pavement, the clouds over them swirled about like the old feathers or the wisps of paint mixed into the wash for a watercolor project. She looked out to the low hills off to the right, all of them different shades of green and yellow. All of them still that rich green despite the late summer. All of them still rich dark green despite the yellow dead grass everywhere. The clouds overhead beckoned rain but at the same time waned away from the coast line.

Such a strange position to be in as was the state of California, but that pocket there, the hills that followed her and Louie all along the highway on that lengthy seven hour drive, reminded her of that special place.

The quiet place. The spot that she and Charlie had found together and the place where she and Joey visited during their final days together.

“This is almost like the precious part of California,” she noted aloud.

“Nah, the eastern Sierra is the precious part of California in my opinion,” he said. “There's something lonely and ancient about the eastern Sierra Nevadas.”

“This whole area here reminds me of a place that Charlie and I found together when they were making the Stormtroopers of Death album,” she followed up.

“Really?”

“It was like this little nook in the trees down the street from the studio,” she explained as she returned her attention to him. “We called it 'the quiet place' because you go in there and it's like completely untouched in comparison to everything else. You walk down the street and you have to duck underneath the trees as you're going in there.”

“Sounds like something you keep a secret,” he remarked.

“I told Joey about it, though,” she told him. “I imagine upstate being covered in places like that.”

“Places you go to that no one else knows about,” he followed along. “This part of California and the eastern Sierra is like that, too. Lots of nooks and crannies and what have you. Like there's a place outside of Salinas—I'll have to show it to you when we get there. It's closer to Monterey Bay, though, which means we'll have to leave this highway, though.”

“It's okay—it'll get us over to the ocean.”

“The ocean makes everything better,” he remarked.

The highway took them down past Morgan Hill and then Gilroy: at one point the road turned towards Monterey Bay; off in the distance loomed those cold dark gray waters that seemed to stretch on forever. The view enlarged as they came closer and closer to the next turn off and the 156: Louie told her it would take them to Highway 1, which would in turn take them to the place he had in mind. At that point, the clouds increased and everything grew dark despite it being almost ten o'clock in the morning.

“While we're over here, you don't mind spending a little money for breakfast, do you?” he asked her at one point.

“Not at all. I was just gonna ask you if you're hungry at all.”

He showed her a grin in response, and then he pointed out the windshield to the next sign up ahead: the town of Castroville as well as the turn off to Highway 1.

“So anyway, this place—it's over by the Salinas River, which eventually heads out to the ocean,” he explained. “When I first met Zelda, and I was waffling on if I wanted to go with her or stay with my concurrent girlfriend and our baby, I always came here. It always helped me clear my head to drive down here when the baby fell asleep and Zelda was back in Rhode Island. I remember staying down here for a full afternoon once. Like I didn't get back home until well after the sun went down. Needless to say, I almost got in trouble for that.”

She laughed at that, and he gave his long smooth hair a little toss back from his face and the side of his neck.

“And the highway will take us all the way down the coastline, too. Take us down to Big Sur and all around the coast, all the way down to San Simeon and Cambria, and then Morro Bay, and then that'll take us over to San Luis Obispo and that's where we meet up with 101 again.”

“And that'll take us all the way back to L.A., too.”

He nodded his head at that, and then Sam cleared her throat.

“I don't think I get Alex,” she confessed.

“A lot of people don't,” he assured her with a straight face.

“It's funny, he said the exact same thing to me,” she recalled. “Word for word.”

“Well, because it's true! A lot of people don't get Alex. That kid is a bundle of contradictions, many of which are not for the faint of heart. I've only known him for a few years but can confirm that, though. And what's mind blowing to me is he's completely aware of it, too. I remember the first time I got into an in-depth conversation with him a few years ago when Testament first formed and we were still Legacy. Sam, I never had such a worse headache.”

“Well, like. For example, when we were in Germany and he and I spent a whole day together—”

“And he missed the train?” he finished for her. “Chuck told me.”

“Yeah, he missed the train and he got upset with me when I tried to grab his attention and get him to come onboard. Then the fireball happened and he realized the error of his ways and we patched it up. And then, you know last night, he opened up the wound over Cliff with me.”

“The fireball happened and what exactly did he do there?”

“I put my arms around him and held him close to me,” she explained. “Wept like a baby right into my chest.”

“He probably liked to feel your chest,” he pointed out.

“What makes you think that?”

“Sam—he's nineteen, soon to be twenty. When I was nineteen, that was all I ever thought about were touching and feeling boobs and clits. We're horny bastards at that age, and I would imagine that he is especially, too. Alex is bit of a nerd—it's the whole thing about how girls don't really talk to nerds.”

“But he's a guitar player, though. I would imagine the girls getting all hot and bothered to guitar players.”

“Not Alex and not our crowds, no. He's like the thinking man's guitarist. I'm sure you've seen him before a television.”

“Oh, yeah, he's all over news reports whenever they come on. Well, I was with you guys in Boston and he and Greg were right before the TV in the room there.”

“Oh, yeah, that's right! But still—at the end of the day, even with his large brain and social scientist parents, he's still a guy. And he probably wanted to feel something soft and warm and comfy.” Louie glimpsed over at her. “You said he was scared, right?”

“Yeah. It was right when that big fireball went up. He just—came over to me and burst into tears at the sight of it. I held him so close to me and I let him weep into my chest.”

“Well—if you see him next time, really pay attention to his behavior towards you,” he advised her. “If he's actually sincere with you, then it's probably because he's confused and his inexperience is showing. If not, like if he gets close to you again, then don't bother with him for a second longer.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I'm saying is he either wants you for you or he's using you,” he explained. “I wish I could tell you more about it, but I'm not Alex, though. I can only tell you what I know from being in between two women for a couple of years.” He shook his hair again and then raked his fingers through one side: outside, the signs for Castroville emerged from the scraggly shrubs on either side of the road.

“I imagine him being soft and sweet, though,” he confessed in a low voice, such that it took her aback to hear that.

“Is—there something about him that you see with him?” she sputtered out as she took a glimpse over at him with a bewildered look on her face. Louie bowed his head and cleared his throat.

“Let me ask you a question,” he said as he leaned his head closer to her.

“Okay.”

“Does it bother you at all—” She could tell that he chose his words with care. “—when a guy finds another guy attractive and it's obvious he's not gay at all?”

She opened her mouth to say something to that, but no sound came out.

“Take as much time as you need to answer that, too,” he assured her, “—I asked Zelda this once and she really had to think about it.”

She thought of all the times that she made art while in class, and she thought of the time that she drew Marla in her journal. It wasn't until she really got to know Marla as well as Belinda when she began to see them as a couple of beautiful women. Indeed, as she thought about their willingness to help her out even while she had posted up out on the West Coast, the more she wondered if the whole thing extended further than their smooth New Yorker skin. Further than Marla's colorful hair and further than Belinda's soft doll like features. There was something more to Alex, much like there was something more to Louie in the seat there next to her, and there had to be something more to herself as well. More to them all, and the fact that she and Louie both had a quiet place, a place where they went that fell on blind eyes, was enough to give her a clue.

The hidden spots and everything in between. It was only the beginning.

And thus it only made sense to her to realize that it resided with everyone, including Alex himself.

“No,” she replied after a long while. “No, it doesn't bother me at all.”

“Okay,” Louie proclaimed as they rolled into Castroville. “Sometimes I look at Alex and I think, 'god, he's a really beautiful boy. I imagine being the perfect cuddler, like he must be adept to snuggling and feeling soft underneath a bunch of blankets.' Not necessarily sexy, although he does have a nice chest and thighs.”

“Nice arms, too,” she said in a soft voice.

“Yeah, he's got those really lanky strong guitar player arms.”

“Hey, you've got nice arms, too, Lewis,” she declared.

“Drummer arms.” He shook his right elbow about: his muscles were tight and sinewy.

“Reminds me of Joey's arms,” she said.

“Oh, yeah, that's right! He's a drummer, too.”

“Drummer and a hockey player.”

Louie took the first exit off into that small town and Sam volunteered to buy the both of them cups of coffee and a couple of scones for themselves: she took a chocolate one where he took a peach one for himself.

Within time, they climbed back into the car and Louie guided her over to the spot in question, right down by the Salinas River and where it widened out before it reached the ocean in small narrow fashion. It was there that the shades of yellow that followed them out of the Bay Area returned to that rich dark green that reminded her of New York. The space in the forest outside of the studio where she and Charlie ventured to together, and then she and Joey visited under a blanket of pure white snow.

“We all have a quiet place,” she declared.

“We really do,” Louie said as he sipped on his coffee.

“We all have a house and a home, even if it isn't physical,” she said.

“Yeah, we all have an attic. We all have secrets. We all have things that we show to everyone.”

“We all have things that we've buried—skeletons in the closet,” she muttered.

“And we all have a quiet place,” he added with a raise of his eyebrows.

He took the next right turn, one that brought them down the Salinas River and away from civilization. All the while, the ponderosa pines stretched high up into the sky around them, all up into those low dark swirling clouds that enveloped them in a blanket of coziness. Soon, the pavement gave way to gravel and broken pieces of pavement itself; and every so often, Sam spotted a series of shrubs all over the places, shrubs with little light pink and pearly white flowers.

“The rhododendrons are still in bloom I see,” Louie remarked.

“I don't think I've actually seen those before,” she confessed; the whole scenery made her think of the hole in the wall back in Ithaca. “They only grow here on the coast and in northern Nevada, we have all manner of pines and trees but nothing like this, though. Nothing as delicate and fluffy as those, though.”

“You guys get oleanders down in the Southland. I've seen those a number of times, they're quite lovely.”

“Oh, yeah. Only drawback with oleanders is they grow like weeds down there. Which is absolutely amazing to me because they're very poisonous.”

“At least it's not strychnine,” he told her. “Strychnine or—better yet deadly nightshade.” And Joey entered her mind right as that final word left his lips. “I don't even know if strychnine grows out here,” he continued.

“Yeah, I don't know, either...” Her voice trailed off at that. She thought about Joey and what he was doing right at that moment. They were still touring over in Europe and they were about to drop their brand new album in the meantime as well. If nothing else when she got back to Lake Elsinore, she had to pick up a copy of that.

She would have to search about for that familiar lettering: she knew it when she saw it.

“There should be a garden somewhere,” he continued, “one full of poison plants.”

“The most dangerous garden in the world,” she declared.

“We should literally call it that.”

“'We'?”

“'They', I should say,” he corrected himself; before them, the little road led to that wide part of the river. Big lush ponderosas as well as oak trees with large wide green leaves the size of dinner plates and tall narrow trees with high canopies surrounded them.

“I was just gonna say—do you really wanna go there, Louie?”

“Unless you wanna.” He tugged on the parking lever and switched off the car. “I ain't gonna do it unless you want to do it.”

“We gotta be careful, though,” she pointed out.

“Oh, absolutely. That's something that's just not for the faint of heart. The quintessential declaration of 'you can look but don't touch'. Might wanna throw in a 'for the love of god' in there, too. 'You can look but for the love of god, do not touch.'”

“'Welcome to Shelley and Clemente's poison garden,'” she declared with a gesture of her hand, “the most dangerous garden on Earth. We've got everything from strychnine to belladonna to oleanders to—whatever else we can find. Have it all together under one umbrella. You and me—we could retire off the profits.”

“You think people would actually pay money to see that?” he asked her, stunned.

“Yeah. People pay money to see the weirdest shit, Louie.”

“Case in point!” He gestured to himself.

“You guys aren't weird,” she assured him.

“Yes, we are. We're as weird as weird can possibly be.” He sipped on his coffee a bit more and then he unbuckled his seat belt. “Anyways, this is where I come to clear my head. I call this place 'the end of the world' 'cause it's far removed away from anything. It's only ten miles back to Castroville but—still.”

They both climbed out of there in unison; Sam peered up to the gray sky overhead and she took in the smell of the salt as it filtered in through the trees before them. The Salinas River flowed right next to the small stretch of gravel and partially collapsed pavement.

“This is like the perfect place for a poison garden,” she told him as he led her to the soft dark river bank.

“Oh, yeah, this lush soil here. Look up the plants and see what kind of environment they thrive in.”

“I do know oleanders like heat,” she told him, “it's why they're everywhere in the L.A. area and in the south, too.”

“Have a special greenhouse for those guys,” he continued as he held his cup of coffee close to his chest. “Kinda clean up the pavement behind us a bit so—Skolnick can drive around on it on his—golf—cart.”

“Shelley and Clemente's poison garden—featuring Alex Skolnick's golf cart.” She laughed at that and he laughed with her.

“Can you imagine Alex on a golf cart?” he asked her, and then he held out his arms, “'oh! Oh god! Oh god here we go!'” And he lowered his voice to where he almost matched Alex's tone.

“Four wheelin' on a golf cart,” she laughed some more.

“Hey, Alex! Take it easy, little man!” Louie lowered his voice to a near whisper. “There's stuff in here that'll kill you faster than you can say your middle name!” He shook his head and chuckled some more, and then he took another sip of his coffee.

“So what's the quiet place like?” he asked her as they neared the river's edge.

“In upstate?”

“Yeah.”

“It's about like this, without the river, of course. There was another spot that Joey and I went to when Stormtroopers were in Ithaca a few summers ago—right by the water's edge at the one lake—one of the Finger Lakes that's there. It kind of reminds me of that, like I'm getting the same feeling as that.”

They stopped at the water's edge and Sam leaned out a little bit for a view beyond the trees. The stretch of rich black and gray that was the Pacific Ocean, a mere stone's throw up ahead of them. Even though Louie had a different opinion, Sam couldn't help but feel that there was something prehistoric about this part of the river; something precious and untouched.

“Sometimes, when it's a bit sunnier out,” he started again, “I'll kneel down to the waters here and search around for insects and rocks and stuff. There's a lot of bizarre life here that's endemic only to this part of the river and as far as I know, the whole state.”

“Kind of like a 'keep it forever' sort of thing,” she noted.

“Exactly, right. Keep this whole place hidden away from the world so as to protect it from everything and everyone. Eastern Sierra is the same way. Exact same way.” He sipped on his coffee once again.

“C'mon, I think it's gonna rain—I feel it.”

They returned to the car and sure enough, as Louie fired it up again and they made a turn back at the dead end and proceeded back up the pavement, the first large drops of rain pattered on the roof and the windshield. It would be some time before they reached the Highway 1 once again, but once they did, Sam wondered as to how far they could go without seeing another sliver of civilization between Monterey Bay and the next spot on the coast.

To the left of them stood the high sea cliffs in all their withered and eroded glory, strong and high over their heads, much stronger and higher than the buildings back in New York City or Los Angeles or even San Francisco itself. To the right stood the ocean: the gray and black waters that went on forever into the horizon. Empty and cold, and cradled by the clouds over them. Everything gray and black.

Every so often, Sam peered down to the waves down below as they crashed on the rocks. She looked to the left once again: every so often in the cliffs, a minute ponderosa jutted out from the cracks as if it gasped for the fresh oceanic air. The coast line seemed to stretch on for infinity before them. She glanced over at Louie and the serene expression on his face.

He was her drummer in that moment.

She turned her attention back out to the ocean beyond them as they went around a corner. Maybe it was the lack of anything discernible on the cliffs or the fact that the ocean appearead so endless beyond them, but something about all of this made her squirm in her seat.

Louie's occasional peers down to the gages behind the steering wheel didn't help, either.

An eternity in such a small pocket of the coastline. They really were at the end of the world.

A sign emerged on the side of the road but she had no idea what it read.

“We probably should've stopped for gas in Castroville,” he told her at one point.

“Why, are we low?” she asked him as her heart skipped a beat.

“Sorta. I hope. I don't really know the economy on this thing—I don't really pay attention to that sort of thing.”

They rounded another corner and Louie drummed his fingers on the steering wheel: that time they had a full view of the ocean. The grand view of the waves as they welcomed her to the end of the world, and they were about to run out of gas as far as she knew right then.

Another sign emerged from behind the guard rail and that time she saw that they were ten miles from the central part of the coast.

“Mother fucker!” he spat under his breath.

“It's okay—we're almost to San Simeon,” she told him.

“Yeah, I know—I'm still kicking myself, though. We'll probably gonna coast there the rate we're going at right at the moment.”

“Seriously?” she demanded, shocked.

“Yeah!”

She closed her eyes and she thought of Joey over in Europe. The only thing that seemed worse than losing Cliff to a bus accident that was far beyond her control was her being stranded on the Central California coast and not being able to tell anyone. But then again, they were close to the next piece of civilization.

“As long as we don't drive into the ocean, I think we'll be fine,” she told him.

“We don't drive into a—poison garden,” he muttered as they went around yet another bend in the road: the cliffs soon began to lower away to the sight of more ponderosas and scraggly shrubs.

“There's no poison gardens here,” she assured him.

“You sure? 'Cause like—there's a bend here—and another here—it's like this.”

They rounded a corner as it wound around the coastline: the road dipped inward into a gentle curve and they doubled back to the next crevice in the landscape.

“Sit—” He pointed to the left. “—down—” He pointed to the right. “—sit—down—sit—down—poison garden.” He pointed straight ahead at that last part and she chuckled at that.

Sure enough, the car sputtered a bit right outside of San Simeon: Hearst Castle rose up off in the distance but they had no time to visit right at that moment.

“Told ya we'd have to coast,” he told her as he guided the car to the gas station right there at the edge of town. The engine sputtered again and died right as they coasted into the first spot near the driveway. He let out a low whistle and leaned back in his seat.

“That was close,” she remarked.

“Yeah, I'll say,” he breathed, and then he turned his attention to her. “A twenty'll get us to the heart of Lost Angles and it'll get me up the Grapevine and into the Central Valley.”

“You're not gonna hang out there with me?”

“I can't,” he told her. “We're supposed to make a new album ourselves.”

“Oh, yeah, that's right!” She handed him a twenty dollar bill, followed by another which would ensure him a ride back home to the Bay Area.

Once they were filled up, they returned to the road.

“I don't know if Hearst Castle is even open,” Louie confessed.

“I don't, either. It's getting kind of late in the day, too.”

“Yeah, exactly!”

Some more coastline and they found their way down into Solvang and then San Luis Obispo where they were met with the Pacific Coast Highway yet again, and they moved away from the end of the world. So much that she wanted to show to Joey. And so much that she wished Cliff could see again, especially that one stretch of the highway where everything felt so finite and endless at the same time.

They wound their way through the low foothills and yet another unknown pocket of California, until they skirted the outside of Santa Barbara followed by Carpinteria.

The waves down below thrashed even more as they wound along the cliffs towards Ventura. At that point, the sky began to darken with the setting sun on the other side of the blanket of clouds overhead.

“Part of me wants to go down to the beaches here,” Louie confessed to her. “Like—take a walk on one of the beaches here. Yet another thing I wanted to do with Zelda when we were together.”

“We don't have towels, though,” she pointed out.

“And it's cold, too!”

“Right!”

The highway led them into Camarillo and then the heart of Los Angeles, where it ended and became the 210. At that point, night was about to fall over them, and the feeling of dread washed over Sam herself. She knew that Bill would be furious by the mere sight of her walking through that front door without any sort of explanation.

Louie drove them down to Corona and then the hills which cradled Lake Elsinore away from the rest of the region. The clouds had finally dissipated and gave way to a violet and orange sky overhead. Such a great length of time to be in that car with him and a part of her wished they had more time.

More time together. More time to relish over the idea of the poison garden.

But that time was all they had right then and there, much like that stretch of highway that overlooked the ocean.

She guided him to the house by the lake and within time, she recognized the neighborhood in question.

He pulled up to the curb and she sighed through her nose at the realization. Her head spun a bit from having driven such a great distance but at least they could come to a stop on a steady piece of ground. She looked on at the house, with its windows dark and the shades pulled despite the fact that it wasn't that late in the evening.

“Do you need any help?” he offered her, to which she shook her head. Instead, she sighed through her nose again and she climbed out to fetch her things out of the back seat. She decided to give her mother a ring later that night when Bill and the girls had gone to bed, that is if they already did. She hoisted her overnight bag over her shoulder and she held her purse close to her body as she reached the driver's side window. He rolled it down so she could speak to him one last time.

“Louie?”

He leaned closer to the window with his eyebrows raised.

“Thank you,” she said to him in a soft voice, and he showed her a sweet smile.

“It's my pleasure,” he told her with a wink. “Poison garden.”

“Poison garden,” she echoed him with a smile on her face.

“Also—”

She stopped and he gestured for her to come on closer to him.

“Don't worry, I'll—I'll talk to him,” he vowed to her.

“Who?”

“You know. The little man.”

“Oh, him!” She stopped right in her tracks. “What for?”

“Just to see if he's alright. One thing I've noticed about him when he fucks up something—he's real hard on himself. So if it's kinda messed between the two of you, I'll check in on him. I'll check in on him anyways.”

“Good plan,” she told him. “You be safe going back up, alright?”

“You be safe, too. Poison garden!”

Sam stepped away from the car and she turned back to the house, still in one place. Louie drove away right then and he disappeared around the corner. Another seven hours and he'd be back up there. She returned to the front door of the house and she opened it with ease. Silence.

She knew that he wouldn't do it. Sam shook her head and she bowed upstairs to her room.

#fanfic #fanfiction #chapter 11 #book four #souls of black #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #testament fanfic #testament band #testament #louie clemente #oc tag #long reads #friendship #also on ao3 #also on wattpad #slice of life #writing #text

4 notes · View notes

blueboxesandtrafficcones · 3 years

Text

Far From the Shallow

Day 31 of 2018′s 31 Days of Ficmas. Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for the list! Note: new for 2020. Credited as 2018 for organizational purposes, & back-filling the prompt.

Prompt: Midnight

Rating: General, with occasional strong language

Pairing: 12xRose, Human!AU, SuperStar!AU, vaguely A Star is Born!AU

Summary: In an effort to combat low ticket sales, Ian Noble’s record label insists he takes to the Times Square New Year’s Eve stage with the label’s newest pop princess - but it’s a backup singer that captures his attention.

2018 31 Days of Ficmas masterlist

AO3

---

Resettling his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, Ian Noble paused for a deep breath before pushing into the practice room. He still wasn’t entirely clear on how his manager had convinced him to do this, but it was too late now to pull out and he’d just have to grin and bear it.

“Right, ready to start kiddies?”

His fleeting hope of finding a bunch of professionals on the other side of the door was quickly dashed. His band was ready, as always, but they were the only ones. His ‘partner’ was nowhere to be seen, her backup singers/dancers/hangers-on lazing around the room, laughing and joking. A few dancers were stretching at the barre, but that was it.

Shaking his head in disgust, he headed for his bandleader and dropped his bag at his feet. “All good?”

“We’re ready,” Craig confirmed. “She’s not here yet.”

“Of-fucking-course not.” ‘She’ was the current Pop Princess – Serenity Lake. Twenty-two years old, she was every bit the bubblegum-pink, super-sweet platinum blonde teeny-bopper he loathed above all else – except unprofessionalism. Though, it seemed, she was that as well. “Practice started when?”

“At three.”

“And it’s now?”

“Three-oh-five.”

“Can we start without her?”

Craig exchanged looks with their drummer, Rob. “I don’t think that would go over very well.”

Ian bit his tongue, hard. The sales for his last tour had been… not great (Clara, his manager, had used the word catastrophic), and it had been decided by PR people and good-for-nothing label execs that he needed to ‘reach new crowds’, even though the album itself had sold well. One of the arse-wipe suits had decided the perfect time and place was a duet with the label’s newest acquisition. On New Year’s Eve in Times Square, New York.

Perhaps Clara had made the right call by telling him over the phone while he was already on the plane under false pretenses.

“So we just wait then, til the fucking princess arrives?”

The band shrugged, and he shook his head in disgust before turning his back on them. The practice room was large, easily the size of a ballroom, with industrial-sized windows opposite a mirrored wall, complete with ballet barre. Two of the female dancers were still warming up, while another four sat around chatting up the men. Two backup singers were sprawled on mats, with no sign of the usual third.

“Is everyone else here at least?”

“Actually-”

Craig was interrupted by the door swinging open, a young blonde in workout clothes hurrying in with a tray of drinks from Starbucks. Rage ignited inside Ian, and before he consciously made the decision he strode across the room towards her.

“You! Blondie!”

She startled slightly, turning to face him. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Aren’t you supposed to be a professional? We’ve been waiting for you! You might be queen on your own fucking tour, but now you’re wasting my time, and my band’s time. I don’t like this arrangement any fucking more than you do, but it’s what the High fucking Council of Douchebags wants, so it’s what we’re going to do. Get over yourself, dig deep for some fucking work ethic, and let’s get through this so we can both get on with our fucking lives!”

Rant over, he settled his hands on his hips, still glaring at her. To his horror and disgust tears had welled in her eyes, though they hadn’t fallen yet. That just confirmed that she would be a flash in the pan; if she’d gotten this far without developing a thicker shell, she wouldn’t get much further. Maybe she had a bulldog manager that treated her like the fucking princess she thought she was; maybe she was shagging one of the label heads and used that to get what she wanted. He honestly didn’t care; he just wanted to get the show over with.

“Well are you going to say anything?” he snapped.

“I’m Rose,” she whispered.

“What?”

“I’m Rose, I’m Serenity- Miss Lake’s new backup singer. She texted me- well her assistant did- that they were stuck in traffic and had me go out to get some tea.”

He never would’ve been able to hear her, if the room wasn’t dead silent. No one seemed to be breathing; he sure as fuck wasn’t, as he realized the enormity of his mistake.

“Ah.”

“Yeah.” The girl sniffled, but kept up a brave face, glaring at him. “She should be here in just a minute.”

“I-” he grimaced, removing his sunglasses. Shit, shit, shit. “I’m very sorry, that was completely unprofessional. Erm, Ian Noble.”

“I know who you are.” Her lips twitched, not quite a smile, but she no longer looked so close to tears. “Big fan, actually.”

“Uh, thanks.” Ian blinked at her, at a loss. He was, ironically, saved by the real Serenity Lake.

“Hello, darlings!” The pop star strutted into the room, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Who’s ready to have some fun?”

Ian watched sourly as Serenity practiced her dance moves. They had one song, a duet he’d done when he was just starting out with a woman who’d long since disappeared from the spotlight so thoroughly he couldn’t remember her name, complete with a dance routine.

To her credit, she’d taken one look at his face and suggested he leave the dancing to her; he was so grateful, he didn’t even care if it was a dig about his age.

Happening to glance towards his left, he found the girl he’d yelled at standing next to him, guilt flooding through him. Watching her watch the dancing for a moment, he hesitated before speaking quietly. “I really am sorry.”

“Thank you.” Staring straight ahead she barely acknowledged him, though her shoulders untensed slightly.

“I don’t want to make excuses, but I really don’t want to be here, and I took it out on you.” He kept his focus on the dancers as well.

“Thank you,” Rose repeated.

“Um, you’re a backup singer?”

She shot him a confused, questioning look, but nodded hesitantly. “Yes. I came Stateside with Jo Shannon, who opened for Serenity on her last tour. When it ended Serenity offered to keep me on, and I accepted last week.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

Sticking his hands in his pockets he looked around awkwardly, but no one appeared to save him. His band was, of course, playing for the dancers, and the various assistants had disappeared, leaving them alone.

“Where’s Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum?”

“Beka and Margot went for a smoke break.” Rose’s lips twitched in amusement, but she kept her blank expression.

“You a song-writer?”

Her face lit up, saying it all, even though she tried to play it cool. “Sort of- I mean, I have ideas, I don’t know if they’re any good though.”

“If you want-” he had no idea where the offer was coming from, why he was taking an interest in this girl’s career. Maybe it was the fellow Brit in the room, or guilt over yelling at her. He tended not to care about the support, as he called them. Didn’t matter whether or not they were there, he hardly noticed them unless they fucked up.

She was different.

“Ian!” Serenity chirped. “We’re ready to run through now.”

“I’ll get Beka and Margot,” Rose volunteered, scurrying out the door and returning thirty seconds later with the other two. They lined up in the back across from the band, Ian and Serenity taking their spots front and center.

For no reason he could adequately explain, he spent more time watching her in the mirror than the star of the show.

After seven hours and a break for dinner, they finally called the rehearsal quits. Tomorrow was New Year’s Eve, and they’d only have one chance to get it right on live television. Most of the group packed up quickly, disappearing out the door amid bursts of laughter. Serenity was first out, oversized sunglasses dominating her face and only making her stand out more than she already did in a fluorescent pink sweatsuit and large handbag.

Ian lingered, taking his time packing up his notes and arrangements, barely acknowledging his band’s goodbyes and dismissing their offers of getting a drink. The girl, Rose, the one he couldn’t take his eyes off of, was lingering as well, and then suddenly they were the only two left.

Abandoning his things, he approached her when she made no move to leave. “Rose?”

She yelped, spinning, and putting a hand to her chest. “Shit! You scared me half to death. What?”

“Erm-” Shuffling his feet, he found it hard to meet her eye. “Listen, I’m sorry-”

“You’ve said that,” Rose cut him off with a sigh, before offering him a tentative smile. “And I accept your apology. It’s all good, really – you don’t need to keep saying it.”

“Right. Thanks.” He rocked back on his heels for a moment. “If you’re not busy, I thought… I mean, if you’d like an experienced professional’s opinion, maybe I could take a look at one of your songs?”

Her expression shuttered, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “I highly doubt I’ve written anything worth stealing,” she said stiffly, shouldering her bag. “Thanks, though.”

“What? No! No no no. Really. Listen, you know Johnny Rotten?”

“I’m from London.”

“Right. Well, when I was just a kid starting out, and not knowing my arse from my head, I got five minutes alone with him in a limo – five minutes. He asked if I was a songwriter, I said I was, he told me to sing him something. The next day I was in front of suits from EMI. A week later I had my first contract.”

“That’s nice.” Rose folded her arms across her chest, turning to go, and in desperation he caught her arm.

“No, listen, my point is – you seem like a nice girl, and I was an utter bastard. Let me make it up to you.”

She looked down at his hand on her arm, which he promptly removed, then back up at him, steel in her eyes. “I want to succeed. I want to make it. I want it more than anything – except my dignity. I’ll make it on my singing. And if I don’t, I don’t, and I’ll figure something else out. But I will never trade sex for opportunity.”

“I would withdraw my offer if you tried,” he shrugged. “I don’t know what to say to convince you to trust me.”

Biting her lip Rose looked towards the door, the wheels turning in her mind. “D’you know a good place in this God-forsaken town to get chips?”

Thirty minutes later they were seated side by side on a bench overlooking the Hudson River. It was too dark to see much other than the occasional light, though the path itself was well-lit.

“So why are you such a surly bastard?” Rose carefully selected a chip before turning expectant, curious eyes on him.

Picking at his own paper basket, he glanced at her quickly before looking out over the water. “I’ve been in this business too long.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not…” he sighed heavily, trying to figure out how to put it into words without scaring her off her chosen career path. “It’s not about music. For others, I mean. To me, as long as I believe in what I’m singing, then hang the rest. I don’t care if it’s… a sold-out Shea Stadium or half-empty corner pub. The money, the trappings, the fame… it doesn’t matter. Well it does, but only so far as is required to keep playing the music I want to play, supporting my guys, you know? Yet everyone else is obsessed with all of it, far more than the music. To them, it’s just a way to make money.”

“Too much of a purist,” she teased gently, nudging his arm with her elbow. “I get it.”

“I’ve seen too many talented musicians ruined by the trappings,” Ian said quietly, staring down at his hands. “Money, fame, sex, drugs, alcohol. I don’t touch any of that shit.”

“You’ve made a lot of incredible music in your time. You still feel like you’ve got more to say?”

“Sometimes… sometimes I feel like there’s a black hole within me. That it’s just… waiting. For the right song, the right lyric, the right chords. That eventually I’ll write the perfect thing that fixes it.”

Rose nodded. “I think I know what you mean.”

They lapsed into silence. Putting his rubbish on the bench next to him, he leaned back and spread his arms, staring across the water. For late December in New York, it wasn’t too terribly cold out; at least, not enough to make him call it a night.

“Tell me something, boy,” she started to sing suddenly, a halting flow to the words. “Aren’t you tired tryin’ to fill that void?” Standing up, she wrapped her arms around her waist as she turned to face him. “Or do you need more?” Another pause. “Ain’t it hard keeping it so hardcore.”

Sitting up straight, Ian stared at her in surprise. “Did you just write that?”

Rose nodded shyly, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I’ve had the tune for a few days, but couldn’t figure out the right lyrics.”

“Almost sounds like it’s about me.”

“I don’t think there’s any life rights involved,” she said dryly, blushing. “Not that it’s much good, anyway.”

Ian considered it, already hearing the sample on a loop in his mind. “Actually, it’s brilliant. It deserves to be heard.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded, before smiling reassuringly. “By you. It deserves to be heard from you. Thank you for sharing it.”

Her head ducked for a moment, and when it raised, she readjusted her scarf around her neck to try to hide her red cheeks. “This has been brilliant, and thank you for the chips and just… listening to me, but it’s getting late and tomorrow’s a long day, so-”

“Right, yeah.” Standing up, he brushed himself free of crumbs before gathering all the trash and tossing it in the nearest waste bin. “Can I give you a ride back to your hotel?”

The next day was a blur, full of interviews and strategy meetings over Skype with Clara. He’d been inspired when he got back to his room, staying up far too late scribbling out fragments of songs. It was seven by the time he was due at the staging area, and he spent an inordinate amount of time in hair and makeup, forced to watch the show on telly. The official kickoff was at eight, though he and Serenity weren’t scheduled until roughly eleven fifteen – with live TV, they had to be ready to go at any moment.

Throughout the evening he caught the occasional glimpse of Rose, each time looking more harried and panicked until he finally snagged her as she passed his dressing room, pulling her inside.

She yelped, trying to scramble away until she realized it was him. “Ian!”

“Sorry, sorry.” He got her steady before letting go, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace. “What the hell’s going on?”

Rose licked her lips, glancing nervously towards the door. “Don’t freak.”

“Why would I freak?”

“No one’s seen Serenity since breakfast.”

A dull buzzing started in his ears, mind already whirling with alternatives and potential plans. “What’s being done?”

“We’ve been calling her, her boyfriend, her parents, everyone, but there’s no sign of her. Police are looking, but… it’s New Year’s Eve, they don’t exactly have the time for that right now.”

“We go on in half an hour,” Ian pointed out, eyes narrowing in thought. “What’s the plan?”

Rose shrugged helplessly. “Hope she shows?”

“Right. Well, you look busy, I won’t keep you.” He crossed his arms, gesturing towards the door.

Shoulders unhunching, she smiled shyly at him. “It’s okay. I like talking to you.”

Their eyes held, and for a moment, just a single heartbeat, he thought he saw something there, but then she blinked and it was gone. “Right! Gotta go, lots to do. See you out there, hopefully!”

Then she was gone in a whirlwind, leaving him with more questions than answers. One of the songs he had toyed with the night before came to him then, and grabbing his coat, he went in search of his band.

“Thirty seconds,” a producer barked in Ian’s earpiece, and he gave him a thumbs up across the stage. He was waiting in the wings, his band already on stage setting up while some pop star on the West Coast performed. The backup dancers and singers filed onto the stage then, and he caught Rose’s eye.

She shook her head and he nodded in return, before giving his bandleader the prearranged signal.

“Miss Lake isn’t here, so you’ll have to go on without her,” the aide at his side informed him. “The backup singers will handle her part, the dancers will stick to the routine, just… do as you rehearsed otherwise.”

“Actually, we’re going to do something different,” Ian informed him, giving him a grin before walking up onto the stage, not giving him a chance to argue. “Hello New York!”

The crowd went wild, though whether it was for him or in anticipation of Serenity he didn’t want to know.

“There’s been a bit of a change, and Miss Lake unfortunately won’t be joining us tonight,” he announced, relieved when no one booed, though a murmur rippled through the crowd. “Instead I’ll be doing a brand new duet with the lovely, talented Rose- well, Rose.” Belatedly he realized he’d never bothered to get her last name. Oops. “Rose?” He turned to look at where she was standing, frozen, at the mic, one of the other singers nudging her forward.

Eyes wide Rose did, coming up to his side and waving tentatively at the crowd.

“Now, Rose here is a talented songwriter, but you don’t have to take my word for it – you’re about to find out yourself.”

Covering the mic so only she would pick up his next words, he leaned in close. “I know I said I wouldn’t steal it, and I don’t consider what I’m about to do breaking that promise, but it’s not entirely keeping it either. Just trust me like I’m trusting you. This is your moment.”

“I don’t-” she started, but he thrust the live mic in her hands and she stopped. Nabbing his guitar from Craig and slipping the strap over his head, he readjusted his headset, praying the mic would pick up his voice.

He began picking out the melody he’d arranged overnight, took a deep breath and began to sing. “Tell me something, girl.” He met Rose’s eyes just as they widened, relieved when they didn’t seem to hold any sort of homicidal intent. “Are you happy in this modern world?” The crowd was silent, more so than he’d ever heard, and if he hadn’t been performing so long it would’ve been entirely unnerving. “Or do you need more? / Is there something else you’re searching for?” His heart leapt to his throat, and he wondered if she’d be able to see the truth in his next words. “I’m falling. / In all the good times I find myself longing for change. / And in the bad times I fear myself.”

The band behind him came in, softly at first, and he met Rose’s eye again and nodded. She came in perfectly on time, her voice seemingly more beautiful than it had the night before when she’d sung the very same lyrics. “Tell me something, boy. / Aren’t you tired trying to fill that void? / Or do you need more? / Ain’t it hard keepin’ it so hard core.” His heart stopped when she continued, mirroring his pre-chorus. The hesitation in her voice made him wonder if, possibly, it was the truth for her as well. “I’m falling. / In all the good times I find myself longing for change. / And in the bad times I fear myself.”

And then she went solo, singing the part she’d added in the car the previous night just before they reached her hotel. “I’m off the deep end / watch as I dive in / I’ll never meet the ground. / Crash through the surface, where they can’t hurt us / We’re far from the shallow now.”

Ian stumbled off the stage somewhat in shock. They’d made it through, Rose performing beautifully, a haunting vocalization in the middle of the song he was certain was already going viral online it was so damn good. He kept Rose pressed to his side, not letting her escape as he fought their way back to his dressing room, waving off the comments being thrown at him. The crowd had gone ballistic, a thunderous roar of approval so great it had been a veritable wall of noise. He didn’t want to know what anyone else thought until he’d heard from her, explained his side.

Slamming the door behind him, he finally let her go and turned to face her, braced for a slap. “I’m sorry I ambushed you, but I haven’t been able to get that fucking song out of my head. It’s incredible, Rose, and that reaction we just got? That was for you. You. As a singer and a songwriter. I mean, that- that-” he fell silent as she stared at him.

“You violated my trust,” she said quietly. “I shared that with you in confidence, and twenty-four hours later you gave it to the fucking world. I can’t- I’m sorry-” Rose darted forward, hand covering her mouth, and he could only watch, disappointed and angry with himself, as she ran away.

“Fuck!” He wanted to throw something, destroy something, but the small rational voice in the back of his head reigned him in. He was already on thin ice for going rogue; better not to ruin in all in a fit of rage. Slamming back a glass of water and wishing like hell he drank, he got himself together before heading for the inside viewing area where a party was raging.

Clara was going to kill him.

Sparkling water in hand, Ian sulked in the back of the room. The network hosting the concert had offered their nearby studios to the performers, hosts, and crew, most of whom were finished with their work and ready to party. Ninety seconds remained in the year, before it would finally be over and they could all pretend, if only for a little while, that everything would magically be better.

“Ian.”

Her voice sent a shiver racing down his spine, and he turned to face her, resigned to his fate. “Rose-”

“Thank you,” she interrupted. “The song was perfect. It was true to what I had written, and yet somehow so much better. That’s down to you.”

“How many offers did you get?” he asked after a moment, studying her face.

Her neutral expression melted into a grin. “Six different labels want to sign me. I haven’t made any decision yet. Not about that, at least.” She looked decidedly nervous, rubbing her palms on her skirt.

“Then what did you make a decision about?” His heart picked up pace, hoping for something he wasn’t willing to consider within the realm of possibility.

“I… I really liked talking to you,” Rose said quietly. “Something about it… I don’t know. I thought- I mean- maybe this is totally crazy, but-”

“Ten! Nine! Eight!” Everyone’s attention focused on the telly, where the ball was nearing the base.

As the countdown continued, things became clear in Ian’s mind. This girl, Rose, made him feel alive again in a way he hadn’t in a very long time. And, if he understood her stuttering correctly before they were interrupted, she was trying to say the same thing.

Eyes darting up, he spotted a spring hanging from the ceiling, and smiled. “Mistletoe.”

“New year’s about to start,” she replied, breathless, stepping closer. “Would hate to start it out with bad luck.”

“You just became an overnight sensation, you can’t risk it.”

“Four! Three! Two!”

“I am sensational overnight.” Eyes wide, she was definitely leaning in.

Hand coming up to cup her cheek, he closed the distance between them.

“One! Happy New Year!”

Their lips met, and the fireworks started.

We’re far from the shallow now.

#bbatcfic #doctorroseprompts #31 Days of Ficmas #31 Days of Ficmas 2018 #ficandchips #Doctor Who #AU!12xRose #AU!Twelfth Doctor #Rose Tyler #Far From the Shallow #Human!AU #Superstar!AU #Musician!AU #slightly A Star is Born!AU #features song lyrics but is NOT a song!fic

12 notes · View notes

inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

Text

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 9: Follow The Rules]

Hi y’all, I hope you are all doing well 💜

Chapter summary: Veronica has some questions, Roger has a plan, John has a short temper.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, medical stuff, pregnancy.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation @bookandband @queen-crue @jennyggggrrr @madeinheavxn @whatgoeson-itslate @brianssixpence @simonedk @herewegoagainniall @stardust-killer-queen

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

At the wedding, Roger is wearing a cast on his right arm and a dazzling smile...and a white suit that he looks criminally good in.

John is in black, Brian in blue, Freddie in maroon-colored velvet and heavy eyeliner. Veronica’s dress is high-waisted and falls in huge, billowing, shapeless ruffles to hide her silhouette. Her family knows, of course—it’s written all over the tense, grim lines of their mouths and the blades their pale eyes hurl at John—but none of those strict Catholics are going to mention an out-of-wedlock pregnancy in God’s house, nor at the modest reception in the church basement that follows the ceremony.

Veronica’s mother and aunts and sisters are just like her, docile and milky-skinned and small-boned, and you’ve helped them deck the vast room with enough flowers, ribbons, candles, and balloons to make everyone forget this event was thrown together in five weeks and on a shoestring budget. There’s a simple buffet with pot roast and potatoes and vegetables, a live band (some of John’s old friends from high school), and a homemade Polish honey cake baked by Veronica’s grandmother situated regally on a china serving dish. Veronica and John cycle through the tables of guests, smiling and nodding and thanking them for coming, dutifully and yet also seemingly genuinely cheerful.

“The boning is bloody impaling me,” Chrissie murmurs as she tugs at the bodice of her gown. It’s satin and a muted pink, just like yours and Mary’s and Veronica’s sisters’. “If I happen die, wrap me in one of those nice tablecloths I paid for and throw me in a ditch somewhere, will you love?”

“You got it.” You stab a piece of potato with your fork. “This should inspire you to be especially compassionate towards your own bridesmaids! Maybe no horrid shiny green.”

Brian chuckles. “Good luck with that.”

“Are you comfortable?!” Chrissie asks Mary, exasperated, fanning herself with a wedding program.

“I am,” Mary admits cautiously. “But...well...at the moment, I think my dress is a bit...roomier.”

Chrissie moans, dropping her face into her hands. “I always gain when the students go home for summer. My routine is wrecked, all I want to do is read Glamour magazines and listen to records, it’s too damn hot to go walking...and I adore ice cream.”

“I like you just fine,” Brian reassures her.

Freddie snickers as he taps his cigarette against an ashtray. “Yes, we’re all well aware of your anatomical preferences, Bri.”

Chrissie rolls her eyes. “Please do not elaborate.” She’s not offended—she’s far too used to Freddie’s shenanigans to be offended—but she’ll be embarrassed if he makes a scene at a wedding.

“Darling, I don’t care what anyone tries to tell you, plenty of men love a little extra meat on the bones. Particularly the ass bones.”

“We’re in God’s house!” you scold him in a hiss. “You’re going to give Great Aunt Zofia over there an aneurysm if she hears you!”

Roger quips: “Great Aunt Zofia stole the last kielbasa right out of my disabled, ineffectual grasp, so fuck her.”

You all burst into shocked, uncontrollable laughter. Great Aunt Zofia squints judgmentally at the commotion from several tables away, gnawing on her kielbasa; she’s been glaring at John and Veronica—the Tetzlaffs’ very own fallen angel—since she first ambled into the church. Roger rocks back in his chair, smoking with his unbroken left arm, smirking cockily and basking in the distraction from the real world that the wedding has gifted you all tonight. He catches you watching him—marveling at him, truthfully—and winks.

John appears and rests his hands on the back of your chair. “What’s so amusing? I swear, I leave you people alone for two hours and you’re having all sorts of fun without me, I won’t stand for it!”

“It was a lovely ceremony,” you tell him. “I’d forgotten how beautiful Catholic weddings are, all the music and ambiance.”

“And from what I saw, you knew most of the words.”

“We have a lot of Irish people in Boston. Saint Patrick’s Day is bigger than Christmas.”

John points at Roger’s cast. “It’s not paining you too much, is it?”

Roger holds his Dark ‘n Stormy aloft, and ice clinks in the misted glass. “Enough of these, and I can’t feel anything. Numb to the world’s many disappointments. I highly recommend it.”

“Noted,” John replies. Roger has pills for his arm, but they only take the edge off. You don’t know that because he’s told you; Roger never tells you that he’s hurting, that he’s frustrated, that he’s afraid. He wears grins and flippant humor like a second skin, shrouding his wounds—both physical and disembodied, old and new—in darkness. Still...you can see all those words he doesn’t say swimming in the depths of his eyes. “I think I’ll hunt down a Manhattan myself.”

“Dad made an impression!” you tell John enthusiastically. “I’ll have to let him know, he’ll be overjoyed.”

“He mixes a good one, that’s for sure. I doubt Cousin Bartosz will be able to compare.” He casts a glance at a perplexed-looking, flame-haired teenager manning a tiny wet bar.

“Booze won’t help you heal,” Freddie informs Roger, checking his reflection in Mary’s makeup compact and fluffing his lustrous hair. “Eat your vegetables. Get more sleep. When do you start physical therapy, again?” Then, to you: “Darling, when does Roger start his therapy?”

Roger sighs. “I’ve got it handled, Fred.”

“Dear, don’t have a fit, I just want to make sure you’ll be ready—”

“I’ve got it handled,” Roger repeats, his tone a warning.

Brian breaks the tension with a toast, his Vesper jangling against Roger’s Dark ‘n Stormy. “I’m thrilled, honestly. Now I’m not the only one who’s ruined a tour.”

Roger grimaces. “Thanks, Bri.”

“Yes, let’s all have a turn,” Freddie mutters, sipping champagne. “Deaky can electrocute himself while fiddling with his amp, and then I’ll...what? Have my foot chewed off by an alligator in New Orleans? Get gored by a wild boar outside Atlanta? It just can’t be a boring maiming, that’s my only request.”

“Alaska has grizzlies, huge ones,” Brian suggests.

“Darling, in what dimension would my luxurious self ever end up in fucking Alaska?”

You shake your head, frowning down into your wine glass. It’s June now, the dead center of a crestfallen year: the rest of the Sheer Heart Attack Tour is cancelled, the record company is furious, and the band is broker than ever. Queen is supposed to start recording their next album—their last album, the record company insists, unless it happens to be a runaway success—in July, but you don’t know if Roger’s arm will be healed in time. None of you know that. You wonder if this really is God’s house, or at least one of his homes, sanctified piles of bricks and glass scattered across the globe; maybe you could ask Him where Queen’s future lies.

Veronica swoops in and dusts an airy kiss onto Mary’s cheek, and then Chrissie’s, and then yours. “Thank you so much,” she gushes. Her high cheekbones are flushed, her watery eyes sparkling. She’s in heaven, sinner or not. Her massive white dress swishes with every step. “We couldn’t have done it without you. And you’re next, Chris! I can’t wait.”

Chrissie smiles. She and Brian are getting married just before Christmas. “Yes, well, time will tell if we’ll be serving Christmas ham or canned beans.”

“And then Mary...” Veronica’s gaze migrates across the table. Mary’s been wearing a ring on her wedding finger since Queen returned from Japan, a simple gold band that once belonged to Freddie’s mother. “What about you, Y/N? Any plans? Then we’d all be hitched!”

Red wine spurts from your lips and you fumble for a cloth napkin. Roger doesn’t believe in marriage, and neither do you; not after only four months together, anyway. And yet...is there some part of you that can’t help but think of papers and rings when you get lost in his eyes, of promises of forever, of some way to tie yourself to him like vessels to a heart? Sure; and that’s a little wonderful, that’s a little terrifying. “Uh, uh, oh, oh no, definitely no plans whatsoever.”

“What bollocks!” Rog sneers. “Really, what’s the point if you’re not religious? Who needs a bloody piece of paper to prove they love someone?! ‘I care for you so much I need the government to know we’re together and the hassle of divorce fees to make me stay,’ what the fuck. I mean, uh, no offense John, Bri, uh...this is all well and good for you, but...ah...”

“It’s just not your scene. That’s fine, Rog,” Freddie says with a tad too much empathy. Mary doesn’t seem to notice.

“But you’ll want children at some point, won’t you?” Veronica asks you, almost pained. She’s not trying to be cruel, you realize; she genuinely can’t fathom the pinnacle of a woman’s life as anything but being a wife and mother.

“Theoretically, sure. One day. Eventually.” You titter nervously. Roger’s good arm circles your shoulders, his cigarette lofting smoke. Oh, but wouldn’t he make beautiful children? You push that thought away. It’s too soon, it’s too much, it’s not in the cards for an impoverished maybe-drummer and his girlfriend; and a girlfriend—with all the intangibility and impermanence that title entails—is all I’ll ever be. “I think I need to travel the world a bit more first.”

John sighs and pats the back of Veronica’s hand. What is that weight in his voice...impatience? Annoyance? “Ronnie, please, don’t bother her.”

Veronica sulks, scraping the old scuffed linoleum floor with her pointy white heels. “I wasn’t trying to bother anyone...”

Mary comes to the rescue: “No, of course not. You didn’t, dear.” She likes Veronica more than Chrissie does. Isn’t she oppressively vapid? Chrissie has asked you more than once. Isn’t she so miserably naïve? Veronica is sweet, sure, but she has no fucking idea what she’s in for. “Babies are wonderful, but they do make things harder, don’t you think? Especially for the mother. You have to be ready to drop everything for them. All your other interests and aspirations.”

“I suppose,” Veronica mumbles. You can tell she’s thinking: What other aspirations?

“But you must be so excited!” You beam up at Veronica. It’s her wedding day, and John’s; it should be happy, it should be optimistic. And you’re learning to like Veronica—less than Mary, but more than Chris—because you know that’s the best thing for John.

She instinctively rests her hand on the swell of her belly; or, rather, where it must be somewhere beneath all those heaps of satin and tulle. Great Aunt Zofia’s glare intensifies. “I’m scared to death, to tell you the truth.”

“Why?!” Mary cries.

“I’m so afraid something will happen to him.” Veronica’s voice is soft, her blue eyes glassy. She’s certain the baby is a boy, claims she had some sort of dream about it. “There’s a lot of bad luck going around for us, isn’t there? And my mother lost four babies. Any time he stops moving, I worry constantly until my next appointment. I haven’t felt anything in days, and I just...I just...” She trails off, staring vacantly across the crowded church basement. She’s trying not to cry, you realize.

“I can try to check for you,” you offer. “If it would make you feel better.”

“Really?” Veronica sounds hopeful, but guardedly so.

“This is embarrassing, but I carry my nurse kit almost everywhere I go now. That’s why I brought my huge blue purse even though it doesn’t match the dress. You know, you can’t be too careful...”

“Yes, who knows when someone will try something idiotic like jogging backwards down the stairs?” Freddie muses. Roger lobs a pierogi at him. Great Aunt Zofia wheezes out a disgusted huff and crosses her veiny, wrinkled arms over her sagging chest.

“I have a stethoscope,” you continue. “I can’t guarantee I’ll find a heartbeat, but I’ll give it a try if that would help.”

“Would you, Y/N?” Veronica clutches for John’s hand, and he lets her take it without any resistance; but he doesn’t seem to know how to comfort her. He has the same dazed look on his face that he has a lot these days, the same look that Bri and Freddie sometimes get: like they’re on autopilot, like they’re actively filtering through brainwaves to fish out any that wander astray. Roger lands a kiss on your bare shoulder and pitches you a playful smirk, his I’m so proud of my too-fucking-smart girlfriend smirk.

You grab your purse from beneath the table. “Does God’s house have a cozy private spot somewhere?”

Veronica leads you, Mary, and Chrissie to a small unoccupied room that is used (how pertinently) as the church nursery. The pink wallpaper is dotted with waddling ducklings, cloud-shaped sheep leaping over fences, smiling suns and winged cartoonish angels. Veronica settles into a faded blue couch, and Mary and Chris help her shove aside the massive plumes of her wedding dress to reveal the plain shift she’s wearing underneath. She’s over five months along now, and her entirely unremarkable bump seems colossal on her delicate frame.

You pop the headset into your ears and press the chestpiece against Veronica’s unyielding belly, gliding it over the pearly shift as you try different positions.

“Anything?” Mary asks anxiously.

“It’s not bloody instant, Mary!” Chrissie snaps. “Be quiet so she can listen.”

“No need to be cranky—”

“You can’t find a heartbeat, can you?” Veronica says, her voice quivering. “Oh god...”

“Found it,” you announce. You hold the chestpiece in place as you yank the headset off and pass it to Veronica.

She gapes at you. “You’re just saying that so I’ll stop worrying, aren’t you?”

“Hear for yourself.”

Veronica takes the headset and listens, closing her eyes as the rapid-fire and rhythmic swishing of her child’s heartbeat floods through her ears. “Oh,” she breathes, beaming. “There he is.”

“That’s incredible!” Mary trills. “Can I hear too, Veronica? Whenever you’re finished...”

Mary listens, and Chrissie does too, and then you all help touch up Veronica’s hair and makeup before you head back to the reception. The cake is due to be cut in twelve minutes. As you smooth the short train on her dress, Veronica turns back to you.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” she asks timidly, hugging her belly. “You know...for this.”

“That’s something I’ve always liked about nursing. So many jobs require sorting out who’s right and wrong, casting judgment, assigning punishment. There’s no weighing of the moral scales in medicine. It doesn’t matter if a patient is trustworthy, deceitful, good, bad, worthy, undeserving, if they disappoint you, if they’re the ones who hurt themselves. You treat everyone, you heal everyone. And I would like to keep that part of myself for as long as I can.” You smile at Veronica. “But, for the record, no. I don’t think you’re a bad person at all.”

She sighs in relief, untethering an anchor she hadn’t even known she’d been dragging around by her throat. “Thank you,” she whispers, tears snaking down her powdered ivory cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on.”

“How do you feel about marble lion statues? You know, the ones at the end of long, winding driveways. Rich people’s driveways. Mansion driveways. Or do you prefer gargoyles?”

“Roger.”

He groans, grins, presses his right fist into your palm. You measure the force with your mind, with your muscle memory. He’s stronger than he was yesterday, the day before, last week. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Rog teases. “You’ve got a soft spot for damaged people. Helpless people. That’s why you warmed to Brian so quickly. He was lying there all gaunt and jaundiced and terrified, and you just couldn’t resist, you just had to make sure all his wildest dreams came true.”

“I have a soft spot for self-destructive musicians who end up in hospitals, evidently.” Your gaze cruises over the scar on Roger’s forearm where the surgeons popped his bones back into place, stabilized them, stitched the ragged gore closed. You hate looking at it; you hate reminders of how mortal Roger really is.

“I want lions,” Rog decides. “For the driveway of our eventual mansion. I like the Leo connection.”

“And the Queen crest connection.”

His grin widens, toothy and radiant. “See, I knew you were the love of my life.”

“Come on. Again.”

He winces this time. “Doesn’t hurt a bit.”

“Uh huh. I bet.” You’ve slathered his fresh blisters with numbing antiseptic ointment, iced his arm, administered pain medicine, allowed him the constant sips of alcohol necessary for him to work, to drum, to sleep. But he still hurts. You imagine he hurts all the fucking time.

It’s August now, and Queen is recording their fourth album at Rockfield Farm. You and Roger are sitting by the pool as Freddie splashes around in the clear chlorine-smelling water trying to get John’s attention. John, meanwhile, is lounging on an inflatable raft, wearing black sunglasses and most likely asleep. Brian circles the pool snapping photos with your Canon F-1.

“I have a plan,” Roger informs you as he starts his stretches without prompting. He knows the drill, even if he likes to be difficult about it.

“By all means, enlighten me.”

“Fred’s thing, the weird one. It has a name now.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah. Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“Oh, it’s perfect!” You try to stay out of the band’s business decisions as much as possible; it’s not your expertise, and it’s not your place, and there are already a few too many creative chefs in that kitchen. Still, you love when they share their magic with you. “Eccentric, whimsical, exhilarating. Just like the song. Just like Queen.”

“I’m so glad you approve. We’re going to make sure it’s the first single off the album. And I know exactly what song’s going to be on the B-side. Freddie and Bri don’t know yet, but I do.”

“Sounds like they’re going to murder you when they find out.”

“I’ll convince them.” His grin is crafty, daring. “Picture it: you’ve just finished the incomparable experience that is Bohemian Rhapsody. You’re a newly converted Queen enthusiast. What could possibly come next? You flip the record over. And the virile, screeching, pure rock and roll passion of I’m In Love With My Car is there to greet you.”

“Oh my god, Roger.” You shake your head in mock mourning. “They actually are going to murder you.”

“Listen, love, BoRhap is going to be a hit. I can feel it.”

“Sure,” you agree lukewarmly. You want to be supportive, you really do. But disappointment stings more than resignation.

“It will be,” Roger maintains, unmovable. “And it’ll sell mountains and mountains of singles...and with my song on the B-side, I’ll get half the royalties. Which means we’ll get half the royalties.”

“Which is how we end up with the hypothetical mansion.”

“I’m being serious.” Roger picks up his mini barbell weights from the water-splattered concrete and begins his bicep curls, flinching each time he lifts his right fist.

“Rog—”

“I’m fine,” he insists. “I’m going to make this happen. I’m going to get rich so I can provide for my family. You know about that, you know it’s on my list. And my family includes you now.”

“I don’t need a mansion, Roger.” I just need you. You stare at his right arm worriedly. “Are you sure—?”

“I’m fine!” he shouts, and you recoil. Brian peers over from where he’s taking pictures of blooming purple foxgloves. Instantly, Roger regrets it. “I’m sorry,” he says, setting down the barbells and cradling your face with his rough, bandaged hands. “I have to be fine, you know? I don’t have a choice. If I can’t play, I can’t be in the band. If I leave, John will leave too, and that’ll be the end of everything. Or worse, John will break the pact and stay and they’ll find a new drummer and forget all about me. Sail off into some blissful new future. And where will I be? Moping as I drag myself back to dental school? Becoming a freaking lab biologist? Resigning myself to being some excruciatingly ordinary bloke, someone who climbed just far enough out of Cornwall to know everything he’s missing out on?”

You try to imagine who Roger would be without the band, but you can’t. You’ve never known a pre-Queen Roger. “No,” you say, amused. “You’ll never be just some ordinary bloke. You’re too brilliant, too determined. Even if you do have a dodgy arm.”

He kisses you, and you can feel his lips curling into a smile beneath yours. “So you’ll let me buy you a mansion.”

“If you get I’m In Love With My Car on the B-side, and BoRhap is a hit, and Freddie and Bri don’t smother you with a pillow in your sleep...yes, you can buy me a mansion. Buy us a mansion.”

He winks, his sapphire eyes glinting in the late-summer sunlight. “Watch out, baby. I get everything I want eventually.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s done,” John tells the others as he passes out copies of his new song, the second he’s ever written. There are only four sheets of crisp white paper; as you watch from the studio couch, you wonder what the song is about, why he didn’t mention it to you.

“It’s done?!” Brian yelps. “What do you mean, it’s done?! Nothing’s ever done after the first pass! That’s how it works, that’s how it always works, someone suggests something and then we all dice it and slice it and flip it around and stitch it back together like the world’s most maniacal surgeons, and then, only then, maybe, it’s done.”

You glance up from where you’re sewing an eleventh patch onto Roger’s jeans. “Must we disparage the medical profession?”

“Sorry, love,” Roger tosses to you with a laugh.

“It’s done,” John repeats.

“Deaky, darling,” Freddie ventures gently. “We should endeavor to keep our minds open to collaboration—”

“Oh, should we, Fred?!” Bri exclaims. “How extraordinary, you never seem to encourage collaboration when it’s your song on the cutting floor!”

“Okay space boy, you listen here—”

“‘I’m happy at home’?!” Roger reads, revolted. “We’re not the bloody Bee Gees, Deaks!”

John explains measuredly and patiently, as if to a child: “That’s the way it goes. We record it as it is or not at all.”

“That’s not how we do things,” Brian mutters, deep frown lines chiseled through his face as he scans the lyrics.

“Then just fill the album with your and Fred’s songs like you always do, I’m sure that’ll keep me and Roger loyal.”

Brian glares at John. John stares back stoically, his eyes like steel. Brian looks to Roger for support; Roger lights a cigarette and pretends not to notice.

“Darling, please, you’re not being reasonable!” Freddie pleads.

“I need it.” John turns to Roger now. “I need it to stay the way it is.”

Rog just watches him for a while, exhales smoke, shrugs. “Okay,” he says at last.

“Okay?!” Brian howls. “What do you mean, okay?!”

“He said he needs it,” Roger replies simply.

Bri throws his hands into the air. “Bleeding christ! ‘He needs it.’ What rubbish! Do something, Fred!”

“Oh relax, darling.” Freddie sashays to the microphone and points to Brian’s Red Special. “Let’s try it out.”

“But—!”

Roger claps Brian on the back as he trots by him towards the drum kit. “Come on, Bri. Big smiles. Just picture the nice shiny pounds from all those album sales plinking into your bank account. You’ll have fifty Christmas hams at the wedding, one for every guest.”

You listen passively from the couch as they rehearse, trying not to let on that you’re paying attention, trying not to overstep. But you can’t help being struck by the lyrics, feeling the somberness of Freddie’s voice and John’s tentative notes on the electric piano slink into your bones; because it sounds so familiar, because it echoes so many things that John has told you.

When Queen takes a mid-afternoon break and John slips into the kitchen for a Coke, you follow him.

“Hey John?”

“Yeah.” He rests his hands on the dining room table. They’re sturdy and unmarred and completely unlike Roger’s; and you aren’t sure why you notice this, but you do.

“I completely understand if I’m being intrusive, and if I am please just tell me to shut up and I will.”

He chuckles. “You’re never intrusive. Go ahead.”

“I was just wondering...who is You’re My Best Friend about?”

Now his smile evaporates. “No one in particular,” he says briskly. “It’s just a song. Just something to put on the album. Maybe a single one day. A soulless royalties grab.”

That seems unlikely. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He takes a swig of Coke, peers down at the table, traces swirls of centuries-old oak with his fingertips.

“It’s just...you know...well...it kind of sounded like...maybe it was about me.”

He looks up. And for the first time, John levels some of his infamous, razored words at you: “Don’t be such a fucking narcissist.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later, John doesn’t apologize. But he smiles at you over tea, offers to clean off the fingerprints of strawberry jelly that Roger left on the Canon, splashes you from the pool as you sunbathe beneath lapis August skies. And you agree, wordlessly and unconditionally, to forgive him. Because John is your best friend, whether or not you’re still his.

Nine weeks later, Bohemian Rhapsody is released as a single. (And, as promised, Roger ensures that I’m In Love With My Car is on the B-side.)

Twelve weeks later, Bohemian Rhapsody reaches the #1 spot on the UK Singles Chart, and remains there for over two months.

Fifteen weeks later, A Night At The Opera becomes the #1 album in the UK.

Fifteen weeks later, Queen’s future is suddenly crystal clear.

#queen fic #roger taylor fic

93 notes · View notes

calypsoff · 3 years

Text

Thirteen.

Staring off into the thin air, I am in stuck in the third meeting this week about my album rollout, which is great, and I am used to it but I have been meaning to see Chris now that he has moved to Texas, I promised him I would and then something comes up. Chris moved pretty quickly, he went back to Virginia and then up and left, he let his parents sell the apartment and he got the money for it, but I miss him so much. We are in April and we saw each other in February, I am annoyed. I have been in Barbados for most part but then I had to come to California, the album is done but we are trying to get the rollout of it done perfectly. I am annoyed because I like to live up to my promises and I am not, I keep saying this week, and then the week after. It’s a mess, I want us to work so much but how can I leave a man without sex and without me for all this time. It’s too long, it does worry me so much because it’s been so long “so Rihanna, what we are proposing on the dates from the forth May, seven days, seven countries, seven shows. Inclusive for fans to tour with you but also see these private shows, just fans. This is all fan based” shaking my head “I am busy on that day” I think the fuck not, that is Chris’ birthday and I will not miss his birthday for anything “album rollout is during then Rihanna what do you mean you are busy?” Jay Brown is being dead ass “it’s my boyfriend’ birthday. I need to spend time with him” Jay Brown chuckled “right, so you held off recording because of that and now this, ok fine. We can move it, sixth May?” shaking my head “start off on the tenth May, I need time to gather myself. It gives me time, gives us time. I just want him to remain a secret” they need to accept that also “give us time?” Jay Brown repeated “yes, I have not seen him for months now, well weeks or whatever. I have been here day and night doing this with you, this is my last meeting, and I am going Texas, so Tenth May or nothing!” I didn’t mean to shout but I got annoyed, the room fell awfully silent “Tenth May it is” I need to calm my ass down, but I am frustrated, I just want to see Chris so badly.

Getting into the SUV, shuffling down so Jen can get in “I wasn’t expecting the little outburst” Jen sat next to me, I sighed out “I know. Because I heard that date and I am like it’s his birthday. I cannot do that to him, imagine me being overseas and I miss his first birthday with me, he did so much for me, and I want to repay that. I feel the strain in this relationship already and it’s really upsetting me. Chris is so hard headed, I want him with me, but he won’t. I should be happy he came to New York that time, but he is stuck on being his own boss. He just moved to Texas, I promised him a week ago I would come to see it, but I haven’t, I have cancelled twice so when he said that I just switched, my bad but yeah. I just want to see him because I got to be back here to film my first single off the album” clasping my hands together “I get it, so you’re going there for how long?” she asked “just for the night, I will be back. The jet is waiting, I am dropping you off first” she cooed out “right, I get it. I don’t think Jay Brown was ready for that, but I did over hear him speak on you being in this relationship. He is shocked you both are together; they are intrigued about him to be honest because he is very much a secret. But don’t feel like it’s being strained?” shaking my head “Jen, he has moved to Texas going on a month now and I haven’t been there, it’s bad and we have had our little arguments here and there and he’s like oh you’re too busy for me, and then it’s like having phone sex sometimes just doesn’t work because I am like I want to be there. Yes I can jump on a jet and just go there but then I can’t settle because I have to be back. Maybe it’s my fault because I rushed to do another album, but I want to get out of this contract” I need to relax “it’s ok, you have a good time and see him. It will get easier for you both, I am sure of it. If you both can get through this then you will get through anything” Jen is right, let me calm down.

“Thank you for dropping me off now go and be with your man, you miss him a lot I can tell” she can tell, I am yearning for him. I have been so needy with him since my birthday ended, I just wanted to see him but he became busy with moving his things around also but he just left Virginia so quick without a care, I am so happy he did because I know he is safe “thanks Jen, I will see you soon. I will only be there for a few days, maybe two but I need to get the music video shot so I can spend time with him for his birthday. I want him to meet everyone, get in the circle. For his birthday I am taking him to a Lakers game, he likes Lakers and always has and I think that gift he will adore so much. So that is one of his surprises, but before that I want him to come to LA, before his birthday. I want him to just meet you guys, just spend time with me but I have to talk him into it, he very much likes to be a man’s man and he should do everything, but I want to spoil him to death, like spoil him a lot so I got courtside seats, which means?” Jen let out an oh “that means going public” nodding my head “which means we go public so I need to speak to him when I get to Texas and we can discuss but I don’t think he will have an issue. So that is why I want you all to see him first, like properly get to know him. So that is his gift, one of them anyways. And then Jay talking about tour, no nigga, I am busy getting dick during then” Jen and I cackled “well I am excited to meet him, and I think he will adore that gift. I will sort him out, he needs to let you spoil him. Because if he gives, maybe you both won’t have this split. He is stubborn, I can tell already. His ass could come to Cali” rolling my eyes “he is cheeky, he said oh well where do you want me to live? You don’t even have a home. I am like you are cheeky, but he is right. He went to Texas because it is cheaper, so there you are. That is Chris, but I adore him and I can’t wait to jump on him” Jen cooed out “take care baby, have fun” hugging Jen close, I cannot wait for them to meet him, they will love him.

I am very much tired, but I am glad to be on the jet going to Texas. Let me check on Chris, I did say I am coming today but you never know with him, he doesn’t believe me. Placing my phone against my ear, Rich asked if he should come and I declined. I should be ok, it’s gated, and we won’t go anywhere so it’s fine “coconut head” he answered “hey poppa” Chris snorted laughing “you like calling me that, why? I mean I know why but still” if he knows why then why ask “because you my poppa, my hard headed baby. But I am on the jet coming to you, this time I am coming” the phone line went silent “TJ! You need to get the women out of the house now” I swear I am going to kill him “code 5!?” TJ shouted in the background, I swear these boys are annoying “I am coming there, and I will sort you niggas out, I swear” I hate them “yeah bro, she is coming so get the girls out” I hate him “don’t piss me off, because you won’t like it” Chris chuckled “I am done, but you see how my niggas ride for me? We got a code 5 on you, but you really coming? Man, I ain’t shaved, my pubes are grown, why didn’t you tell before” I rolled my eyes “you didn’t believe me when I mentioned it remember?” he let out an oh “I am excited to see you” I miss his face “also that house plant better be alive when I get there, I got that gift to make your home a little more like I would be there” Chris snorted laughing “uh yeah, we call the plant code 5 too” all of them niggas at that house are annoying “I can’t wait to sort you out! I will see you soon” he gets on my nerves “call me when you get close to the place, I will wait outside the gates for you and get you in ok?” I feel all giddy now, he will be there waiting for me.

I be doing all this myself now, I get everything sorted with getting the SUV and everything like that, I don’t need anyone to do this for me because if I rely on them I would never be here “he should be at the gate” I said to my driver, I hope he is here “there, he is there” I clapped my hands, the driver stopped and put the window down “Christopher” I feel so emotional, it has been so long and it was never meant to be this long. Watching Chris walk towards the back as he opened the door, I am literally jumping off the seat right now “did you tell him to say my government?” he climbed into the SUV “oh my god” I lunged at him, wrapping my arms around his neck “I missed you so much” this is it, the water works have started. Chris snaked his arm around me “I missed you too” he grabbed my legs and picked me to sit me on his lap “you look so good, you got the red lipstick on too” he would notice that, moving my head back “and you kept your hair long, for me. I don’t care, you can look however you want, I missed so much” pecking his lips “you let me down several times” wiping his lips with my thumb, I don’t want to cover it with lipstick now.

Chris lifted the hood up on his jacket “it’s a little busy here so, let’s keep you like this” it smells like him so I don’t mind it “hopefully nobody has a Rihanna foot fetish, they we doomed. Thank you, I will take this” Chris took my carry on suitcase, Chris held onto my hand and honestly my heart skipped a beat, I just missed him looking after me. His presence around me so much, it’s nothing like facetiming. I needed him here with me, holding me like this “welcome to Houston, me and Beyonce are best friends now” he is annoying, walking into the building with him. I can’t even look up because Chris told me not too, he said it’s bust “y’all hear that? Rihanna is releasing a new album, apparently but we don’t support Rihanna here, it’s all about Beyonce” I would kick him if I could “you funny, I rate Rihanna” some guy said, Chris let go of my hand as we stopped walking. Looking up at him, we are getting the elevator “Rihanna sucks” he grinned “dick” I am just going to side eye him, I will get him back. Putting my head down as the elevator opened and people left, it is kind of busy here and I thought it was quiet.

I am so glad that I can take this hood off “you suck, I hate you” unzipping his jacket “well that is my chance to annoy you. You look so beautiful, wait. Hold your face there” looking up at him, he picked at my face “this is what happens when you cry” he blew the eyelash away “does my makeup look bad, I couldn’t help it. I have missed you like crazy and I feel bad because I didn’t come here quick enough” he shushed me “it’s cool, you’re here now so shall we. Barry and TJ are here, on their best behaviour they promise, so come in. This is the little walk way, the first door on the left is TJ’ room, I will take you to the couch you will be sleeping on” he know damn well I won’t be “come” following behind Chris, it looks nice already. Bigger than the old one, very vibrant “code 5 here?” TJ said “she is” Chris looked at me smiling as I walked into the very big open planned living area, I have seen it on facetime but it’s bigger in person. TJ’ mouth hung open as the game they were playing paused “hi” I said smiling, Barry got up from the couch “welcome to the place” he made his way to me “I get it, you see me as Rihanna” Barry laughed “uh yeah, it’s a little weird to split the Robyn from school, but it’s good seeing you” he hugged me, they will get used to it “don’t mind TJ, he has some crush on you” Barry stepped to the side “Rihanna is in my living room, you look bomb” I chuckled “you’re not being loud now huh” he shyed away, he is shy “that is cute” Barry and Chris busted out laughing “I think we need Rihanna here forever, wow” he is so quiet now.

I am most intrigued to see his bedroom, I swear if that is a mess I will be angry “so we are entering where all the sex happens, you are the third woman to enter this room” he is winking at me like I won’t kick him, walking into his bedroom “oh ok, I see you Chris” I am amazed how clean this bedroom is “oh this wall” I pointed “yeah, I am still doing it. I am doing graffiti one wall and keeping the rest white, anime characters I like and then Lakers, we got to add that in. But we getting there, got the mirror here and I been waiting on you. I got this longer mirror for when you come, you can do your thing, your makeup or whatever. I got a little spot for your clothes” he opened the door “here, it’s a closet. I got the desk with the Macbook, the box here is mock ups of the clothing brand we are doing currently, so yeah. It’s not that busy because my mind is busy so I wanted my room to be minimal. It’s busy without it being busy, if you know. This bed, it’s bomb. Brand new, I spend most of my lonely nights here because my girlfriend is too busy for me” Chris walked into me, wrapping his arms around me “I have missed you, the hugs. The love, I am only here for one night” I didn’t add that before “maybe two max” hopefully that makes it better “deadass!?” he moved back “so after all these weeks I get a few days, how does this progress? Man I ain’t had sex in so long, I ain’t had you here. I ain’t going to argue” he putting his hands up, he is not happy at all.

#Chrianna #Chrianna FF #Chrianna Fanfiction #Fanfic #Fanfiction

7 notes · View notes

kookitykook · 4 years

Text

Seven Soulmarks: Yoongi (“I’ve never actually listened to Kanye West.”)

~genre: soulmate au, fluff, sfw

~word count: 4.5k

~warnings: none this is v cute

~pairing: record store owner!yoongi x y/n (there are also features from a few of the other soulmates, try and spot them heh heh)

~summary: At the exact moment of your twentieth birthday, the first words your soulmate will ever say to you appear in black ink on the inside of your left wrist. Seven boys meeting their soulmates shows once again how the universe knows exactly what it’s doing.

See how the other boys meet their soulmates (all interconnected)

Jungkook -- Taehyung -- Jimin -- Namjoon -- Hoseok -- Jin

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

Min Yoongi considered himself a simple kind of man.

He was fortunate and grew up in a loving family, he had a few close friends that he could always depend on, and he loved music.

Yoongi enjoyed simplicity. He didn’t mind spontaneity or partying in other people, but that lifestyle just didn’t interest him.

For his entire life all Yoongi dreamed about was opening up his own music shop. A place where people could come and find any sort of music that touched their soul.

That was his dream. Simple, to the point, and attainable.

So by the time his twentieth birthday had rolled around, Yoongi had worked tons of part time and random side jobs for five years and saved every single penny, and was able to buy the space. He was still in university, still a teenager, but he’d been smart enough and worked hard enough to make wise choices to realize his dream.

And all that hard work was finally paying off.

“Alright Mr. Min, here are the keys,” said the realtor of the empty space that would soon be Yoongi’s store. “Congratulations on your new property!”

Yoongi thanked the realtor, walking her out to the door and seeing her out. He turned back to look at his family and friends who had joined him for the occasion.

He held up the keys to his store and grinned. “I did it.”

His mother squealed, rushing forward and hugging him tightly around the neck. The others that had amassed followed suit, his father and brother embracing him tightly, some of his buddies from high school, and his new friend from university that was just a year younger than him that he had met at the tiny on-campus record store (she’d been buying a Jonas Brothers album and he’d only slightly been judging her).

“I’m proud of you, son,” his father said sincerely.

“Oh my boy is so grown up,” his mother added, hugging him for what felt like the millionth time.

Yoongi just chuckled, returning the embrace tightly. “I wouldn’t be here without you all. Thank you.” He bowed deeply.

“It’s a big day for you Yoongs,” his university friend said as she jumped up on the counter behind her. “It’s your birthday, the day you buy your shop, and your soulmark should be appearing any second.”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes, making his friend laugh. He had been hoping to avoid the topic of his soulmark in front of his parents, something she knew quite well. He needed to keep this in mind for whenever she got her soulmark.

“Oh, yes!” his mother squealed, checking the time. “You were born around 12:14. Oh, I can’t wait to meet my boy’s soulmate.”

Yoongi scrunched his nose as his mother pinched his cheeks. “The mark doesn’t tell me when I’m going to meet her, Eomma.”

“Yes but still!”

“It should be showing up now,” his brother remarked casually.

“Oh, let me look!”

Yoongi just sighed as his mother took his left hand and held the inside of his wrist up to her face. She cocked her head to the side in confusion.

“Who’s Kanye West?” she asked innocently, mispronouncing the rapper’s first name.

Yoongi’s friends and brother burst out laughing.

“Aw Yoongs, don’t tell me you’re stealing Kim’s man!” his friend shouted, leaning against his brother as she cackled.

“Shut up,” he muttered, pulling his hand away and looking at the mark himself.

There is black ink was his mark, the first words his soulmate would ever say to him.

‘I’ve actually never listened to Kanye West.’

Well. That was … surprising.

At his friends urging, Yoongi repeated the words.

“Who hasn’t listened to Kanye West?” his brother mused. “Seriously, does your soulmate live under a rock or something?”

“Well at least we know you two will have to work on finding common ground,” his friend cut in.

It was well known that Yoongi’s favorite artist was Kanye. Strange that his soulmate would have never listened to him.

Yoongi just shrugged. “That’s fine. I can introduce her to him. She can introduce me to her interests, too.”

His friends and brother ‘awwww’ed.

“Ack, shut up.”

***

You considered yourself a simple kind of girl.

You were raised by a single mother, but your childhood had been filled with joy. You enjoyed fashion, had a soft heart for all animals, and you loved music.

You had only been six years old when your mother enrolled you in a piano class, and even though you cried terribly when she left you at the strange new place for an hour, by the time the first class was over you were asking if you could come back the next day.

That was the first time you discovered that music ran through your veins. Emotions that your six-year old brain didn’t know how to process yet suddenly made more sense when you heard that emotion being played on the piano or sang in the most beautiful way.

Music became your life, and your mother did everything in her power to give you opportunities to pursue your dream. When you entered high school you were gifted a scholarship to attend an arts conservatory, which is where your talent really started to reach new heights.

Soon you were being scouted for various university music programs and you even received a few invitations to join symphonies around the country.

The world was your oyster, anywhere you wanted to with the piano, you could have gone.

But … you were a simple kind of girl.

Sure, traveling the world and playing alongside some of the biggest names in the music world would be great, but it just wasn’t for you.

You didn’t want to move away from your mother. You didn’t need fame or recognition.

All you wanted was to be with those you loved, play the piano, and share your love of music with others.

So that’s what you did. You respectfully turned down all the wonderful offers that had been sent your way, hoping and praying that the opportunities would go to people who craved and deserved them more than you.

After graduation you enrolled in a small online university where you earned your Associate’s Degree in business relatively quickly. You moved out of your mother’s house to an apartment complex near to her, but not so near that you didn’t have that sense of independence you wanted. And you started to teach.

You never would have guessed that teaching piano would have brought you such fulfillment, but it turned out to be one of the greatest sources of joy in your life.

Sure, there were kids who hated the instrument and were just there because their parents made them, but there were also the children who you saw so much of yourself in. You saw the joy and the emotional realizations on their faces as they played, the excitement when the notes started to click in their minds.

It was one of the most fulfilling aspects of your life.

And this is what you were talking about with your closest friend/roommate on your twentieth birthday as you waited for your soulmark to appear.

“She’s an absolute genius, I swear,” you said to your friend, who was listening with a grin. “She’s only eight years old and she’ll be able to outplay me soon.”

“Oh I doubt that.”

“No, seriously!” You took a sip of your wine, throwing your blanket over your cold feet. “She’s phenomenal. I’m helping her parents look into some scholarship for an arts school. Gah, she’s so good. But anyways, I’m sorry, I keep talking about me.”

“It’s your birthday!” your roommate argued, pouring herself another drink. “And your soulmark day for crying out loud, you’re allowed to talk about yourself.”

“Yeah but what about you?” you pushed. “How are things going at the shelter?”

Your roommate was a few years older than you and waited tables, but spent her free time volunteering at an animal shelter just down the road — that was actually where the two of you had met.

“Really good, actually!” she said, sitting up straighter and proceeding to tell you about the shelter’s new initiative to get all of the stray cats adopted by Christmastime.

Before you knew it, a half hour and another bottle of wine had passed and it was almost time for your soulmark to appear.

“What do you think it will say?” your roommate asked, waggling her eyebrows at you.

You laughed, stroking the still blank skin on the inside of your left wrist. “I don’t know. As long as it’s nice, I don’t care.”

Your roommate stiffened and you immediately realized your mistake.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I — I wasn’t even thinking.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” she assured you, biting her lip as she looked down at her own wrist.

(You hadn’t met your roommate yet when her soulmark had appeared, but the ink on her wrist read. ‘Do you have any idea who I am, you psycho?’ You had assured her that whenever she met her soulmate, the context of the situation would make the comment much less cruel, but she rarely believed you.)

“Tonight’s not about my mark,” your roommate said with a forced smile. “It’s about yours! How much time left?”

You checked your watch. “Uh, any second now actually.”

Your roommate squealed and scooted closer to you, both of you staring at your wrist as light music played in the background.

You let out a heavy breath as black ink slowly started to appear.

“There it is, there it is,” your roommate chanted excitedly

And sure enough, there it was.

‘Hi, welcome to Agust D’s Records, I’m Yoongi.’

“Well then,” your roommate deadpanned. “That makes it … pretty clear.”

You stared at your wrist silently, mouth open like a fish. A dumbfounded, overwhelmed fish.

“Yoongi,” you whispered after a few uncomfortably long, silent seconds. “His name is Yoongi.”

“Well where the hell is this Agust D’s Records place?” your roommate mused, whipping out her phone to search for the store. “We’ve got to go there ASAP.”

“This is so weird,” you murmured to yourself. “I … I don’t really know how to feel. I mean, I can find him like … anytime at all.”

“Yeah you really lucked out,” your roommate responded. “No mystery for you. And look here.” You leaned over to look at her phone. “The store is only a few miles from us. We can go see him tomorrow!”

Your heart seemed to seize in your chest.

“Or not!” your roommate said quickly upon seeing your panicked expression. “You can go see him whenever you want, it is completely up to you. If you want me to go with, I will, but I also understand if you want to go by yourself. The ball is in your court, Y/N.”

You gulped, resting your head on her shoulder.

“Yoongi,” you repeated dumbly as your roommate stroked your hair. “His name is Yoongi.”

***

2 YEARS LATER

“Okay I’m just saying to consider it, Yoongs.”

“Don’t call me that,” Yoongi muttered, glaring over at his best friend as he reorganized the Beatles section that a bunch of high school punks had put out of place. “Tell me again why you’re bothering me instead of doing your job that I so graciously pay you to do?”

His friend scoffed, sitting down on the ground and leaning back on her palms. “It’s a genius idea and you know it. The store is doing great, and your brother is more than ready to take over as manager here. This is the perfect time to look into opening a new branch!”

“I’m perfectly content with just one store for now. Why are you so hung up on this?”

“I just have this feeling, Yoongs,” she continued. Yoongi watched as she leaned forward, subconsciously rubbing her soulmark that she’d received only half a year ago. It wasn’t much to see, just a simple ‘No.’ “I feel like we’re meant to move into the city proper and open a new branch. I just know it.”

“Oh you do?”

“Yeah,” she retorted, passion lighting up in her eyes. “Don’t you feel like the universe is all connected sometime? Like … like we’re all causing ripples in a pond that overlap with each other exactly like we’re meant to. And I just feel it in my bones that we’re meant to expand the store! We’re not supposed to keep making our ripples here forever!”

Yoongi sighed, looking down at her with sympathy. “Look. I’ll be honest with you, your idea is a good one. But,” he said quickly when she started to beam, “I don’t think it’s the right time just yet. Let me think about it some more and look over our finances. Let’s not rush into our ripples before we’re supposed to okay?”

His friend grinned, nodding and jumping up to hug him tightly. “That was a pretty good metaphor, don’t you think?”

“No, it was stupid. Now go man the register and leave me alone.”

“Love you too, Yoongs!”

“And stop calling me that!”

Yoongi rolled his eyes as his friend disappeared around the corner of the aisle he was on. He loved that girl, but she drove him insane. He hoped his soulmate wasn’t so extra, he was pretty sure he could only handle one overly dramatic person in his life.

It’d been just over two years since his soulmark had shown up, and he had yet to hear the words on his wrist. At first he used to try and find ways to bring up Kanye West to every customer that caught his eye, but that got exhausting and disappointing really quick.

So he decided to just let it be. His soulmate would show up when they were supposed to.

“Yoongs. Psst, Yoongs.”

“Did I not just tell you to go man the register?” Yoongi asked in exasperation as his friend popped her head around the corner yet again. “What is it?”

“She’s back,” she said with wide eyes. “That girl.”

“What girl?”

His friend rolled her eyes and huffed. “Don’t play dumb, you know which girl.”

Yoongi swallowed. He did know which girl she was referring to, he had known right away.

You started coming into the shop about a year ago, and he had been struck right away. It had been a particularly rainy day, and your hair had been dripping onto your shoulders, making the green of your sweater look particularly dark. He had introduced himself to you like every other customer (albeit his voice had cracked because you were staring at him with the prettiest, widest eyes he had ever seen), but you had only nodded at him politely and skittered away to look at some of the ukuleles he had just put on display.

He didn’t think much of it. Maybe you were shy, or maybe you couldn’t speak. He didn’t want to make any assumptions, so he just carried on with his business and rang you up for the Demi Lovato CD you bought, giving you the usual speech on the music classes and membership opportunities the store offered. You had smiled, nodded yet again, and then went on your way silently.

That had been a year ago, and since then you had been coming into the shop at least once a week, but nary a word had been said to him.

It only somewhat drove him crazy. For a while he believed that perhaps you couldn’t speak, but then he heard you ask his brother a question about the piano classes that the shop offered.

So you could speak, you just didn’t want to speak to him. Great.

His best friend had a theory that it was because you were his soulmate, but Yoongi didn’t think that could be true even though he had never seen your mark. You had bought two Kanye West records in the last year, and when he’d asked if you enjoyed Kanye’s music you had looked up at him a little scared and nodded hurriedly before darting out of the shop.

Still not a word though.

It was strange, but Yoongi had decided not to dwell on it any longer. You clearly didn’t want to speak to him for some reason, but you were polite enough and always bought something from the store — whether it was a record, sheet music, a CD, or some of the local band merch that filtered through every now and then.

You were a loyal customer, just … a quiet one. Fine by him.

“Dude, let it go,” Yoongi muttered to his friend as she continued to stare at him like he ought to do something drastic with this information that you were once again at the store. “And leave her alone, too. She doesn’t need the likes of you bothering her to talk to me.”

“The likes of me?” his friend shouted incredulously. “Brat. Anyways, I still think you should go say hello to her. She’s always watching you when you’re not looking. And not in a stalker way, but a cute, infatuated way. Go say hi.”

“Go man the register.”

“Ugh, fine!”

He couldn’t help but chuckle as his friend left with a dramatic huff. A minute or two passed and he finally finished reorganizing the section, heading around the corner to grab a box of some new records to stock.

Then he saw you.

He couldn’t help but stop dead in his tracks. You hadn’t seem him yet, instead looking down at the new piano that had just come into the store yesterday. Your mouth was slightly open as you ran your fingertips over the keys almost … reverently. Your eyes were bright with wonder and Yoongi felt like the breath had been knocked out of him at the sight.

It was a damn shame that he didn’t think you were his soulmate.

He swallowed, licking his suddenly dry lips as he readied himself to speak to you.

***

“That just came in yesterday.”

You jumped at Yoongi’s familiar voice, yanking your hand back from the keys of the absolutely stunning piano. You looked over, swallowing thickly as you took in his appearance.

He always looked good and today was of course no different. He had dyed his hair blonde a few months ago, and his roots had started to come in, but that only added to his semi-grunge look. Ripped jeans and a cuddle-worthy brown sweater donned his slim frame, and you somehow managed not to ogle him like a total creeper.

You then remembered that he had just spoken to you in that low, smooth voice of his and was probably expecting you to respond somehow.

You smiled at him briefly before turning back to the piano to admire it. It really was beautiful.

“It’s a Bechstein,” he continued, sounding almost … nervous? “Twelve years used, but it’s in great condition. One of our regulars had it passed down in his family and decided to let us have it for half the selling the price. It’s no Steinway, but … it’s damn nice. I almost hope nobody buys it anytime soon.”

You couldn’t help but hum in agreement, wanting to reach back out to the beautiful black and white keys but knowing that you weren’t supposed to play the instruments without express permission from the store staff.

You’d been coming to the store for a year now to shamelessly creep on your soulmate, you definitely knew the ins and outs of the store by now.

It was getting downright ridiculous the way that you were refusing to speak to your soulmate. Your roommate was going insane about it, even more so since she met her soulmate, Taehyung. She and the famous singer had almost killed each other upon first meeting, but they were head over heels for each other soon thereafter, which meant she was insistent on you speaking to yours so you could have the same kind of relationship.

But you were painfully afraid. Yoongi had said the words on your mark to him a year ago and you still had not said whatever words were on his wrist — words that you refused to try and get a peek of.

“Do you play?”

It took you a minute to register that Yoongi had just asked you a question. You met his piercing eyes, almost melting at his soft smile. You swallowed and nodded.

“I figured,” he said softly, moving slightly closer to you. You raised an eyebrow at him as if to ask ‘how?’ “The way you looked at it. Like you could already hear the notes you wanted to play.”

Your heart stuttered.

Say something you idiot, you thought to yourself. He’s your soulmate and you’re pussyfooting around as if he isn’t.

You opened your mouth to say something — what, you didn’t know — and Yoongi’s eyes widened.

And nothing came out. Fear gripped your vocal cords and you huffed, turning back to the piano in frustration. What was wrong with you?

You heard Yoongi sigh in disappointment and all you wanted to do was run out of the store. You were just about to to do that when he spoke up again.

“Do you … want to play something?”

You looked up at him in shock. He was offering to let you play the Bechstein? There had been both a Bechstein and a Steinway for you to play on at the arts conservatory you attended as a teenager, but ever since then you hadn’t had a chance to play on anything other than your Yamaha. It was nice, but … it was no Bechstein.

Yoongi laughed as you nodded frantically. He gestured for you to sit and you took a deep breath, steeling yourself to focus on the piano and not your soulmate watching you.

The first touch of the keys had the rest of the world disappearing — Yoongi, the shop, your worries, everything.

Your fingers drifted over the keys with a honed elegance that only a lifetime of practice and love for the piano could create.

It was a piece you knew like the back of your hand — a piece you had written, actually. The notes ebbed and flowed, painting a melodious picture of your life. You played the sounds of your mother’s love and dedication for you, you played the anxieties of high school and the competitiveness of your music program, you played the joy of teaching your students, you played late nights with your roommate laughing about the most random things together, you played the feeling of Yoongi saying the words on your wrist to you, you played your fear of revealing yourself as his soulmate and facing rejection, you played your very soul.

As the last note finally rang out, you opened your eyes, your lashes fluttering as you crashed back into reality.

You heard a few random customers and Yoongi’s chatty employee clapping and whistling and you couldn’t help but grin and turn around, bowing your head in thanks. You turned back to look at Yoongi, only to catch sight of him staring intently at your hands that were still lingering on the piano.

Or more specifically, staring at your left wrist.

Somewhere in the middle of all of playing, your long sleeve had ridden up your forearm, revealing your mark. And from where he stood over you, Yoongi could see the last half of the words in black ink.

‘ … Agust D’s Records, I’m Yoongi.’

You froze. All of the warmth that came from playing the piano before you vanished as you took in the expression of complete and utter shock on Yoongi’s face.

“That’s …” he mumbled, blinking rapidly. “That’s my name.”

You weren’t sure you were breathing. He finally looked up, meeting your eyes.

“Am I …” he trailed off, staring at you like it was the first time he’d ever seen you. Between your performance that had felt like it was literally tugging on his soul, to now knowing that you actually were his soulmate after all … “Am I your—”

“I’ve actually never listened to Kanye West,” you blurted out so quickly all the words slurred together.

Once those words were out, it was like a dam had broken.

“I got my mark just over a year ago,” you continued, the word vomit spilling out of you. “It told me where you worked and your name a-and I was so scared at first but then I told myself it would be fine so I came to meet you, but then I saw you and I — I completely panicked. I froze up, I was afraid you would reject me o-or something and so I just didn’t say anything. But then I couldn’t stay away and so I just kept coming back, but then I dug myself into too deep of a hole and didn’t know how to bring up the fact that ‘hey, surprise, I’m your soulmate and I’ve been semi-stalking you for a while?’ Not that I actually have! I swear, the only time I see you is here in the store.”

You stood up them, fidgeting with your fingers as Yoongi continued to stare at you in silence.

“But I had to have some sort of reason to keep coming back, because I just felt wrong when I stayed away, so I would come in and buy something. And I saw that on the ‘staff recommended’ shelf there was always some Kanye West album and truthfully, I’m not that into rap music but I figured I would try since you seem to like him, but I never got around to it even though I bought like three of his albums. And I know you probably think I’m completely deranged and you’re probably right, but I just — I get really nervous, you know? And you’re so nice and yet we seem really different, so I was afraid that you—”

“Stop.”

You froze, your mouth open as Yoongi cut you off quietly, holding his hand up.

Here it comes, you thought to yourself. He’s going to tell me I’m completely insane and to get the hell out of his store. Well, it’s been a good run I guess.

But Yoongi didn’t do that at all.

Instead, he took three calculated, slow steps forward until he was right in front of you, almost chest-to-chest. You held your breath, unable to look away from his eyes.

He raised his hands, placing his palms on your cheeks.

“Your voice,” he murmured, “is beautiful.”

Oh.

“I … I’m sorry it took me so long to say something,” you stammered out softly, feeling a whole new spectrum of emotions as he looked deep into your eyes.

Yoongi smiled then, a gummy, broad smile that knocked the breath right out of your chest.

“Don’t be. Our ripples crossed right when they needed to.”

You blinked, hands reaching out to rest on his chest. “I’ll be honest, I … don’t really understand that metaphor.”

“I’ll explain it later. I know we just officially found each other, but can I kiss you? Please?”

You smiled broadly, and it didn’t bother Yoongi at all that you nodded instead of speaking.

#bts fanfiction #bts scenario #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi scenario #bts #my writing

33 notes · View notes

17yearcicada · 3 years

Text

happy belated holidays, @stubbornness-and-spite ! i was you secret santa & i've written a Thing !

gonna go ahead & tag @sanderssidesgiftxchange so that they see this

link to read on ao3

or read it under the cut:

“Hypothetically, what would I do if my attic was contaminated with ghosts?”

Logan adjusted his glasses and stared up at the man that had just walked into his office. “I’m sorry?”

“Ghosts. In my attic. What would you suggest?” The man fluffed up his dirty blonde hair and looked at Logan inquisitively.

“Sir, while I’d love to help you with your… ghosts, you can’t just storm in here without an appointment. Do you know the number of people we get in here every day? You’re probably holding up quite a few people who have been waiting for weeks to speak with me.”

“I’m not, actually! I talked to the lovely old ladies in the lobby, and told them my story and all, and they were nice enough to let me go first! They said that ‘if that man has any sense, he’ll give you the proper advice and send you on your way very quickly.’”

“Well I don’t know what kind of advice you want, sir. I don’t know what the problem is.”

“My attic is contaminated with ghosts,” the man repeated.

“Well yes, I heard that. Would you like to be more specific? How do you know about this infestation, what would you like me to do about it, do you think you know these ghosts…”

“I heard these very strange noises- and not like normal strange noises, like ‘oh that’s a weird noise but it’s probably just the neighbors’ strange- like properly strange. They sounded like children’s voices? Which was weird, because we don’t have children in our house and the two couples next to us don’t have children either, they live alone. Very sweet, though. One of them made cookies for me once, and they weren’t nearly as good as Patton’s but they were probably a close second. Don’t tell him I said that though. He gets very touchy about his ba-”

“While this all sounds very interesting, I would prefer if you stayed on topic, Mister…”

“Baker. Roman Baker.”

“Right. Well, Mister Baker, please focus on the topic at hand.”

“Of course.” Roman took a drink from his water bottle. “So, I checked with Patton- Patton is my husband- and he said that he had heard the children’s voices too, and it sounded like they were coming from the attic. So we went up to the attic, and we didn’t see anything, but the children’s voices were definitely stronger. There were three, I think? Yeah. Three. Anyways, I went downstairs to google what if means if there are children’s voices in your attic, and google said it meant ghosts, so then I googled what I should do about that, and google said to go to a professional who specializes in ghosts, so then I googled the nearest professional who specializes in ghosts, and-”

“I think I get the point, Mister Baker, thank you.”

“Um. You’re welcome?”

Logan took off his glasses and rubbed his forehead. “Alright. Here’s what I’m going to do, Mister Baker. I will go over to your house. I will check to see if there really are ghosts in your attic, and if so, I will help you deal with them. If not, I am going to leave your house and I am not coming back.”

“Yes, sir!” Roman gave him a mock salute. “I’ll show you to my house, it’s not a far walk.”

So that was how Logan ended up Roman’s attic, eating slightly melted chocolate chip cookies and talking to ghost children.

Roman’s apparently-not-technically-his-husband (“we don’t have plans to get married, we don’t want the fuss,” Patton had explained. “Roman’s just dramatic.”) was standing next to him, watching pretty much everything Logan did with awe. Roman was on Logan’s other side, not paying attention to Logan at all and instead flipping through what looked like an old family photo album.

Roman had actually ended up being correct: There were ghosts in his attic, and they were the ghosts of three children. Logan had performed his typical summoning spells and the ghosts were now visible and much easier to hear, but that didn’t mean they were easy to talk to. So far, the only thing that Logan had been able to figure out was that they had died together, and that one of them blamed their death on the other two (although the other two denied this vehemently). He hadn’t even been able to get their names.

The tallest ghost in room, as well as the most talkative one, was explaining in detail how it felt to die. Logan was mostly trying to tune this out- it was far to early to be having an existential crisis about this sort of thing. He was more focused on getting the other two to talk, although they didn’t seem to want to.

“Look, uh- what did you say your name was?”

“Remus!”

“Look, Remus. I’m sure that dying feels very strange, and I understand that you want to tell me about it. But would you mind pausing your story for a moment so that I can talk to your other…. friends?”

“No.”

“No? What do you mean, no?”

“I mean, JayJay and VeeVee don’t wanna talk! I’m talking for them.”

“....I see. How do you know what they want to say?”

“I don’t know 100% for sure, but I know that JayJay usually wants to say something like ‘I don’t trust you and I think you’re gonna try to kill us again,’ and then VeeVee says ‘you can’t die twice idiot,’ and then JayJay says-”

“Thank you, I think I get the picture.” Logan rubbed his head and then turned to Roman and Patton, who were watching him with concerned expressions. “I am going to have a brief meeting with my- colleagues- about this situation. Will you two be okay up in the attic until we come back?”

“Hey, we survived five years in here alone,” said the ghost in the purple hoodie. “We’ll probably be fine. Unless Jan tries to kill us.”

“I couldn’t kill you, we’re already dead!” protested the third ghost. “That’s not how dying works, you moron.”

“See, I was right,” Remus said cheerfully. “But yes, I think we will be okay!”

Logan nodded and headed downstairs, motioning for the other two to follow him.

“Look,” he said once they were all standing in the kitchen. “I don’t think these ghosts can easily be rehabilitated.”

“Re-ha-what? Isn’t rehabilitation for like…. yknow, criminals?” Patton chimed in from where he’s standing by the stove.

“No. Well yes, but that’s not what I meant here. Christ, you two don’t seem to know anything about ghosts. Anyway. In this business rehabilitation refers to moving the ghosts to an empty house or building where they can live in peace and not bother the living. However, judging by these ghosts’ deminor, and the fact that they’re children, I highly doubt that will be a possibility.”

“So what do you suggest we do, then?” Roman asked.

“Well. There’s always the option of, um.” Logan lowered his voice. “Killing the ghosts. Well not killing per se, but there are…. methods. To get rid of them.”

“That’s horrible!” Patton cried. “They’re kids!”

“I never said I liked it, Patton, just that it was a possibility.”

“Well is there anything else we could do? I don’t know if they’d like being in the attic forever… and oh no, what if we move? Or die? What’ll happen to them then? We can’t just-”

“Hey.” Roman placed a hand on Patton’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out, kay?”

Patton smiled weakly back at his boyfriend, then looked back at Logan. “What do you suggest we do, then?”

Logan sighed. “I suppose there’s always the option of… fostering the ghosts.”

“Fostering?”

“Yes. A situation in which adult living beings help to take care of undead children. They don’t need to eat or sleep or… do anything, really, but they’re still children and still need parental guidance. If someone were to foster them, they’d check in on them daily, make sure they’re doing okay and have enough entertainment, that sort of thing.”

Patton’s eyes lit up. “Roman! We could be parents!”

“I- that does sound… really nice, actually.” Roman smiled. “Would you be helping us?” He asked, nodding at Logan.

Logan blinked. “What?”

“Will you be helping us to foster the ghosts?”

“I- I mean obviously, I’ll get you all set up with the papers and make sure everything’s set up-”

“That’s not what I meant. Will you be helping us take care of the ghosts?”

Logan paused, flustered. Roman wanted him to help? Hadn’t they just met?

Or, alternatively, Roman didn’t want him to help and was trying to figure out weather Logan felt the same way. Well if that was the case, good. Logan definitely didn’t want to have to deal with those annoying ghost children every day, or Roman and his bouncy boyfriend/fiance/person.

Right. He totally didn’t care about them. He totally didn’t think that they were cute. At all.

“I, uh. Only if you want me to, Mister- Roman.”

“I do want you to! But, ah. Only if it’s not a bother to you.”

“I do have, uh. Work, and things like that.” Logan pushed up his glasses. “But, I suppose…. I could always ask for some time off. To help you with your endeavors.”

Patton stifled a squeal. “Oh, you would? Thank you, that’d be really- really nice.”

“Yes. Well. I am known for being nice,” Logan joked. “Um, how about I start by coming over at 4 pm every Tuesday? To start, at least.”

Both Roman and Patton beamed. “That sounds lovely.”

_______

So that was how Logan ended up taking care of three of the most stubborn ghost children he’d ever met.

He started, as he had promised he would, by coming over every at 4 PM every Tuesday. At first he just stayed for an hour before heading back to work. He’d come in, eat cookies and chat with Patton, then go upstairs and ask the ghosts how they were doing. Usually this last part lead to Logan storming out with a headache, but he got used to it.

The ghosts were actually quite sweet, once they started to trust Logan more. They were rather insightful, for seven year olds, even though they kept stopping every two seconds to argue with each other.

He taught all of them how to play chess, although only Janus seemed really into it. He asked them about their former families and lives (who were all dead now, unfortunately) and let Virgil cry on his shoulder. And when they were ready, he helped them find the skeletons of their old bodies and taught Remus about how to keep them safe and clean.

He really was starting to get attached to them, wasn’t he.

And there were… other reasons. That Logan kept staying longer. But those didn’t matter right now.

By the time a couple months had gone by Logan was coming over practically every day after work and spending hours at the house. It got to the point that he even slept over a few times, although only when it was absolutely necessary and he couldn’t drive home because it was too dark. Obviously.

He was starting to get closer to Patton and Roman as well. He learned that Patton worked at a bakery, but that he wanted to start up his own company. That Roman did acting at a local theater and was hoping to make it big in Broadway, although he mostly dismissed it as a silly dream. That they were actually quite excited about the ghosts, because they’d always wanted kids of their own. That they were both trans, something Logan was very excited to discover they had in common.

Unfortunately, Logan’s boss wasn’t a fan of how he was starting to spend his time. She told him that if he was going to keep spending his time, quote, “playing with bratty ghost children instead of exterminating them,” he would be fired, or at the very least demoted.

Obviously this was a bit of a problem.

Logan didn’t want to leave his job. It payed well, he liked the work, and his coworkers were friendly enough. But… honestly, if given the choice between staying with Roman, Patton and the ghosts and continuing to work… he’d choose the ghosts.

So he quit. Well, technically his boss called him in to her office to fire him, but he handed in his letter of resignation before she could say anything, so it was hard to tell who fired who, but the thought was still there.

He lived at his house for a while- there were enough ghosts in his neighborhood that necromancers were in high demand, even unemployed ones. But once Roman found out about his predicament he practically insisted that Logan move in with he and Patton, saying that there were far more ghosts in their town anyway and that they’d be honored to have him, really.

So he moved in with them. There were only two bedrooms, one for Patton and one for Roman (Roman had issues with touch, apparently) but that was okay because both Logan and Patton were willing to share a bed. The house was a bit small for three people plus ghosts, just in general, but no one ever seemed to mind sharing.

And so that was how it went, for a while. Logan lived with Roman and Patton, picking up odd jobs around the neighborhood and helping out Patton with his bakery. It was… good. Right. It felt like it was always supposed to be this way.

Which was why, when Roman and Patton asked to talk to him about something, he felt like he knew what is was going to be.

Which was why, when Roman and Patton admitted that they both had a crush on him, he knew that they were telling the truth. And he knew what they wanted.

They had barely even asked him “will you join our relationship” when Logan had said yes, and they were all laughing and smiling.

And when Patton and Roman both kissed him on the cheek, he knew that this was how he wanted to spend the rest of his life.

#whoooo its finally done #sanders sides #mm. on a more serious note this is probably like. my last Thing for the tss fandom tbh #ill still b writing just. not for this fandom #anyway!!#happy holidays everyone!

3 notes · View notes

cloudbeom · 4 years

Text

privacy | Igirl Idol

request by: @l0vely-ang3l

Genre: Slight angst; slight crack; fluff; comfort

Words: 2.6k+

Summary: it was hard enough to hide the fact you’re dating from the public, but its harder to hide the fact from your seven brothers, who literally act like your real brothers even off-camera.

Pairing: BTS x reader (platonic); Implied Sope; Implied Taekook; slight mention of Choi Jongho

Note: The reader here is 17, so the year set here is 2017 during their ly album when jungoo was about 19~20 (though it's not mentioned, just to clarify these lil details)

A/n: awe it's okay we’re a loving and supportive community here ❤ and blessss you for requesting an 8th member fic I enjoyed writing this! I’ve been dying to write one for ages but my brain is dried of ideas so thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy and thank you ≧◡≦

Also: Shout out to anyone who can spot the BuzzFeed unsolved reference here hehe

“Yeah, don’t worry. I just got home,” You say into the phone with a small smile, kicking your shoes and taking your coat off, the phone between your shoulder and your ear, “I will, stop worrying so much!” You giggle into the receiver as you looked into the body mirror, a huge smile on your face, taking your phone into your hands, “See you soon, I love you too.” You say, before hanging up.

“Who was that?” Jimin suddenly appeared from the doorway, making you jump as you suddenly saw him from the mirror, yelping.

“Who was what? there’s no one here,” You say, shoving your phone in your pocket, “Aish Jimin are you on that crazy, unhealthy diet again? there’s no one here but me.”

Jimin fakes offended, following you as you walked over to your table where all your makeup was, him circling you and looking at your outfit, “You’re wearing your favorite hoodie and jeans that you’ve only worn once when you were at that G dragon concert claiming its an ‘attractive, hot smoking pair’.... almost looks like you’ve got a date,” Jimin sneered, obviously thinking that wasn’t it.

“Ha! with who? I was just out with Yeji, you know, like I always do,” You say, and Jimin eyes you weirdly.

“You say that as you smell like the Victoria Secret perfume you only use when you're at award shows?” Jimin questions, then he gasps, as in putting two and two together, “No... don’t tell me you..really had a date?!”

You immediately turned around and clasp your hand over Jimin’s mouth, looking frantically around. Thankfully the other members were nowhere in sight, probably doing their own thing somewhere around the building or the studio.

“Shut up!”

“Mmmmm!” Jimin says, inaudible because of your hand clamping his mouth, and you only removed your hand when he stopped moving completely. But when you let go, he grabs both of your shoulders and shakes you, as if you’ve lost your mind.

“Are you crazy? With who? Does the staff know? The hyungs? Did you sneak out? How many times did you sneak out before this? oh my god, what if dispatch catches wind of this- (Y/n)- are you crazy?!”

You move over to grab both of his hands that were shaking you to stop him, “You’re being dramatic.” “I am not!” Jimin blurts dramatically, grabbing your shoulders again and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “It’s just... when?”

“In my defense, I had been seeing him for almost five months now and-”

“(Y/n) is dating?!” A cry from the wide-open doorway was heard, both of you and Jimin’s heads turned to see Jeongguk with his mouth gaping open, next to him Taehyung who had his eyes widened comically, not believing what his ears had overheard.

“Why are you guys standing by the doorway like that?” Yoongi’s drowsy, grouchy voice was heard from the outside, and you shook your head to both Taehyung and Jeongguk who was still in overdramatic shock, standing by the doorway, you mouthing ‘don't tell him, don't tell him!’ because you knew if Yoongi knew you were dating, he’s going to beat your ass.

“(Y/n) has- she has a boyfriend!” Taehyung says, still sounding shocked himself and you shot him a glare, and he shook his head like you were the criminal here, and Jeongguk looks at Tae slowly, his mouth still gaping like a fish, like he didn’t believe what Taehyung had said.

“She has a what,” Yoongi says, his tone not implying Taehyung repeat it, and he didn’t. Yoongi sounding more wide awake now. He walked over, pushing the two maknaes from the doorway to your room, his eyes meeting yours, and the scene of you, fixed with Jimin’s hand tightly on your shoulders and a nervous grin on your face.

“Eheh... Heyy... Yoongi hyung.. um, how was your rest?” You asked, followed by nervous laughter, your eyes passing Yoongi’s head to signal you are so fucking dead to me to the two maknaes who looked at you with much horror.

“How was my rest? let’s all take a seat down at the living room as I call Namjoon, then we can all talk about my rest, yeah?”

“Ah, you- you don’t need to do that, hyung! I was just going to sleep too anyway,” you gave your best fake yawn, stretching, as you attempted to walk past Yoongi.

Only he grabbed you by your shoulder as you passed him, and you sweatdropped.

“I’m pretty sure we have more important matters to talk about.”

Yeah no shit.

A quiet awkward silence passed through the living room as all 8 members of Bangtan had gathered there, Namjoon sitting on the couch opposite to you, the three maknaes spread on the floor, Yoongi and Hoseok sitting on the couch with Yoongi folding his arms and Jin standing behind, a stern look on his face.

You would’ve imagined if this were a western film, a tumbleweed would’ve passed right through the middle of the living room as all eyes were on you, Hoseok and Jin having no clue what was going on but sensing it was something bad that you had done.

“Do you have anything you want to say, (Y/n)?” Namjoon asked, looking at you with no hostility in his voice. It was obvious Yoongi had told him what happened, but still, being the great leader he was, he always tried to take every situation lightly, never trying to force out anything from his members like some interrogation.

Much to Yoongi’s dismay, who’d love to just do the latter.

But you understood why Yoongi was like that. He had trust issues yet he trusted his members with his whole heart, you knew he also just wanted the best for you. Ever since debut Yoongi was with you for all those years along with the other members, you’ve never had a boyfriend before. So it was no surprise at how Yoongi was reacting. You were practically a baby in his eyes.

“Uh, no.” You say, earning a light scoff from Yoongi.

“No my ass,” Yoongi muttered, earning a chuckle from the leader, “The fuck are you laughing at?”

“Then, do you have anything to say, hyung?”

Yoongi’s ears turn red at Namjoon calling him out, “Yeah, (Y/n) has a boyfriend she’s been seeing for five months and we didn’t know about it- why are you so calm about this?”

“(Y/n) has a what?!” Now it was Seokjin who shrieked dramatically, walking up to hug you from behind, “But.... you’re a baby!”

“Hey... Jimin’s the baby of the group.” Taehyung says under his breath, Jimin laughs a little, his shoulders shaking from his little giggle, and Jeongguk looks offended.

“ARMY says I’m the baby, though,” He says with a pout, Taehyung sighs, pulling both Jimin and Jeongguk who was on each of his side close to him, all three heads touching.

“All three of us are the babies,” he says, opening one of his eyes to meet yours, “Innocent and pure, unlike you, demon woman.” he hissed tauntingly, and you looked down at your fingers, sighing and not up to your brother’s jokes.

“Would you like to confirm that, (Y/n)?” Namjoon asked.

“Yeah, it’s true. Look I’m sorry okay? I just... I’m just a little overwhelmed of this idol life and I needed an escape.. he’s my best friend and I had a crush on him since before my trainee days. I’ll... I’ll break up with him if it would make you happy.” you say, specifically looking at Yoongi, who turned away from you, his face still mad and pouted, even after your statement.

Seokjin was still hugging you from behind and when Namjoon didn’t reply, you thought he was disappointed in you. And Hoseok decided to step in.

“I don’t think it’s a bad thing, Joon,” Hoseok says, surprising Yoongi who sat next to him, but didn’t attempt to stop him talking, “She said she’s been dating him for five months, and we- or, fortunately, dispatch, didn’t know about it, I think she’s capable of hiding it.”

“But until when?” Seokjin says now, “I mean, I’m all for it, I support (Y/n) too,” He says, ruffling your hair, “But I’m just worried... what if he hurts and breaks your heart? I don’t want you to be depressed and sad.. you’re our little sister..”

“Say something, Joon,” Yoongi says, poking Namjoon’s thigh.

All 7 members but you turned their heads at their leader. If there was one thing they shared in common, besides their over love for food and fighting over discount coupons that were given as prizes every time they had run BTS, it was respecting their leader’s choices and never arguing on it. Namjoon was and is the leader for a reason, after all.

But you were afraid of what he was going to think of you. You looked up to Namjoon a lot. If you hear him agreeing more to Yoongi, you knew you’re never going to see him the same way again.

“I think...” Namjoon says, then he looks up with a soft smile, coming to a decision, “I think it’s alright,” he says, and you finally look up to see if he was joking, but Namjoon’s eyes only held empathy, no disappointment in them.

“But-” Yoongi started, but Namjoon cuts him off with an, “I’m not finished,”

“I’m a little disappointed that you didn’t inform us, but kept it a secret for five months now, because if something could’ve happened to you in public if you were out with him we wouldn’t be able to help you, (Y/n),” He says, sounding like a parent more than a brother, “We’re a team, we’re not supposed to keep secrets from each other. We’re you planning to keep it a secret forever if Jimin hadn’t caught you?”

You only nodded, looking down shamefully, as if being told off by your father, and Namjoon sighs.

“I understand your motive, (Y/n), I can only imagine how hard it is for you.” He says, “I won’t tell the company about this, you have my word.”

Your eyes lit up, feeling relieved of what Namjoon had said, “re-really?”

“You’re not gonna tell them?” Yoongi asked, looking at the leader, and Hoseok adds on

“Yeah, are you sure not just informing them is really the best idea? We don’t always have to make it public, for safety, y’know?” he says, but Namjoon gave both of them a knowing look and a slight grin.

“Yoongi hyung, Hoseok hyung, her dating secret isn’t the only secret we’re not telling the company. if you remember what I had caught the both of you doing that one time in the studio-”

“I get it I get it! Okay fine a secret it is,” Yoongi says, covering his ears, the four maknaes looking at the two of them weirdly as if getting the message.

“Really?” Jin asked, having shut your ears, “Right in front of the kids? Have you no shame?” he asked, causing Hoseok to laugh nervously.

“Can we not talk about this?” Hoseok says, rubbing the back of his neck shyly, “But.. who’s the guy, (Y/n)?”

You looked down shyly, “He’s my old friend... Now a contestant of MixNine... Choi Jongho..”

“Who’s that?” Taehyung asked, tilting his head, “Oh my god, is he older than you?”

You shake your head, “He’s about my age, we were classmates since kindergarten, and he’s been dreaming to be an idol too!” you exclaim happily, and Jimin smiled.

“Well, at least you look happy,” He says, cooing, happy for you, “I’ve never seen you this happy and excited since we watched G dragon live.”

“She’s blushing too,” Jeongguk states, “Gross, stop acting like a girl!” he says, not used to your shy demeanor.

You giggled a little, and Namjoon shakes his head, “But you have to know that dating isn’t your first priority and that if your planning to dance with the devil, you need to live with it when he sets you on fire. Okay, (Y/n)?”

“I know,” You say, “I’ll keep that in mind,”

“Wait, I realized something,” Jin says, having been playing with your hair the whole time, “You’re only 17... you- you use protection right?”

“What? no-! I mean- we don’t do that, hyung! I love him! Not dick deprived!” you say, causing him to laugh.

“I know, just... make sure you don't do it until you’re 18,” he says, “And also don’t do it in your room- or the whole dorm.”

“I second that,” Hobi responds, and you covered your face that was reddening from what they were saying.

“Gosh, I’m not ready for that,” you giggle, now in a better mood than you were before, the spirits lifting in the room as you turn away from their teasing.

And your eyes met Yoongi’s.

Yoongi looked at you with a soft gaze. You knew he acted how he was just because he probably realized that you’re not the 14-year old who debuted with them during 2013 but now almost 18 and someone who wouldn’t need the opinions and guidance of her older members she calls her brothers.

You and Yoongi are close, admittedly you're closer to him than any other member, and one of Yoongi’s fears was that one day, a day will come when you won't need him anymore. He must’ve thought that day was probably today.

You can only hope that he knows how wrong he is.

“Bring him here sometime, I’d like to meet him,” Yoongi says when he stands, walking over to ruffle your hair, ”But also know that this doesn’t mean shit and your still the baby of the group, despite the only one with a significant other.”

“Are you sure she’s the only one with a significant other, hyung?” Hoseok asked teasingly, wriggling his eyebrows, and Yoongi glares at him to shut the fuck up Hoseok you're not helping at all, Hoseok giggles, finding it adorable as he stands up to join Yoongi too, “but I agree with hyung! Bring him over sometime!” he says, kissing your forehead- a typical Hobi thing, before leaving to probably the studio again.

“I’ll go make sure Yoongi and Hoseok actually start producing, and not doing other things,” Namjoon chuckles, standing to follow the two out, patting your shoulder as he passed you, “But I’m really proud of you. Don’t hide anything from us anymore okay?”

Jin sighs with a smile, “Glad that’s over. Now if you’ll excuse me, hyung needs to make dinner for the babies,” he says as he stands, humming as he walks over to the kitchen.

"I thought I was the only baby,” Jimin grumbles and Tae sighs.

“We're fighting about who’s the baby here, but are we not considering how she has a boyfriend yet we’re still single?” Kookie pouts, and you can't help but roll your eyes

“I’m just irresistible,” You say, looking at Jimin so he’d back you up, and Jimin nods vigorously, making you smile, “See? Jimin agrees!”

“Oh come on, just date me,” Taehyung winks and Jeongguk fake gagged

“In a million years, hyung,” you hear Jeongguk retort and Jimin giggle, “Aish, enough of this, (Y/n), play overwatch with me!”

Jeongguk pulls you up and Jimin and Tae follow, Tae mumbling about how he’d be an amazing boyfriend and Jimin laughing the whole way.

Needless to say, nothing has changed. Except that you probably love your brothers even more now. Not just because of the fact that you could trust them and solve problems easily when you're together, but also because no matter what they’ll always love and support you. Their baby sister.

100 notes · View notes

ladylb · 4 years

Text

To Cry

Chapter 16 Two Days

This chapter can be found here on AO3

To start at the beginning, chapter 1 is here on AO3 or here on tumblr

Summary: Marinette didn't have to wait very long for Lila to make the wrong claim...

Wednesday morning and Marinette was found on the front steps of the school again, with a slight blush and a smile on her face as she was typing away on her phone, saying good morning to Luka once more.

Adrien was shortly delivered by his bodyguard to the school and he joined up with Nino and Alya, who were of course standing by Lila’s side listening to her newest tale, based upon the newest newsworthy item. If only she knew that she was poking the bear… or in this case, by extension, the crocodile’s best friend.

While she tried for half a second, Marinette discovered that it was too hard not to ignore the chattering and gossip that was loudly being passed along around her, but she listened in anyway. Pressing record on her phone just in case.

Good for her… not good for the resident liar.

“Of course, I knew that they were going to get together, I introduced them after all, after saving his kitten that he had to give away because of his allergies.” Lila loudly proclaimed, repeating a former lie. “I mean I was the one who found a baby alligator in Australia a couple years ago that I knew he’d love, that’s how he got Kang.”

“Oooo!” Rose cooed, “weren’t you afraid of him?”

“Of course, not silly. Kang was only like ten centimeters long and abandoned by his mother. I knew Jagged would love him! Penny too. I’ve even helped them plan the wedding. I’ve passed on Gabriel’s personal number so that he could help them design their outfits of course.”

“What’s Lila talking about now?” Adrien asked Nino.

“Dude, haven’t you heard the news, Jagged Stone is marrying Penny!”

Adrien looked over at Marinette who had stopped the recording and was now forwarding it to a certain friend with a small grin on her face. She was shaking her head like she just couldn’t believe her luck.

“Marinette?” He asked in a questioning tone.

She looked up at him and answered, “Adrien.”

“Are you going to, uh? You know?”

Marinette only grinned wider at him with a glimmer in her eye.

“Oh yes, Marinette, what do you think about the news?!” Lila squealed. “I know you’ve met Jagged, but he really LOVES me!”

Marinette shrugged and got up, collecting herself as she calmly replied, “oh, I guess that’s nice? Although I will admit that I heard about the wedding a couple days ago though and I’m very happy for them.”

“Dude! You knew!” Nino exclaimed.

Alya shook her head, “no way! You would totally have told me.”

“Jagged and Penny didn’t want to have that information leak just yet.” Marinette offered with a shrug, “they just got engaged after all, besides they knew they couldn’t keep it a secret forever but they wanted to keep it to themselves while they could, so I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Gurl, I can’t believe you!” Alya looked on at her in shock, “I can totally keep a secret!”

“Sorry Alya, I know how to keep a secret, it wasn’t my secret to tell and they’re practically family. They came by and told us about everything Monday night, when they came to set up their taste testing for their wedding cake.”

“Just because I know him so well, you don’t have to lie and try to steal the spotlight Marinette!” Lila teared up, irritated that she had lost her adoring crowd’s attention, “I can’t believe you’d do that!” Then she ironically started up with the crocodile tears.

“I’m really not trying to steal anyone’s spotlight Lila.” Marinette pointed out with a raised eyebrow. “I really know Jagged that well and my parents ARE making his cake.”

“Yeah, she even had him over at her bakery once.” Adrien quietly supplied with a smile.

“Uh, yeah.” Alya looked confused, not quite sure what side to take, as if there were sides as she offered, “she even designed one of his album covers.”

“Of course, she did, I didn’t want Marinette to keep feeling bad about herself so I suggested that they give her a shot at that!” Lila offered.

“Umm, I think that was Jagged’s idea.” Marinette answered, “and I know I’m a good designer. I don’t feel bad about myself at all in that respect. Jagged thought of me because I had already made his Eiffel Tower sunglasses at that point.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t know that I suggested to him to call you up again! I told him not to use my name, I didn’t want you to think you were being chosen for the job out of pity.” Lila offered.

Marinette just blinked at that.

“That was so cool of you Lila!” Rose praised.

“Yeah, well, it was a really good thing for Marinette’s career.” Alya joined in, “you should seriously bake her some cookies or something Marinette.”

“I don’t think I could if I wanted to, remember Lila’s nut allergy?” Marinette parried. “Not that I was going to do that.”

Chloe had arrived a few minutes earlier, and just snorted as she tossed her hair. “Of course not, that would be ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.”

Lila gave Chloe a look since Chloe usually overlooked her lies and avoided her, “are you saying that I don’t know Jagged?”

“Silly me, of course not. He only stays at my father’s hotel and I’ve never seen you there visiting him.” Chloe mentioned off hand as she inspected her nails, “honestly, I think I know him better than you, and there is only one person here, unfortunately, that knows him better than Moi, and she’s not you Lie-la. It’s Dupain-Cheng. She actually comes to visit Fang, you know, his crocodile? Usually when he has a show or something and he has to leave it behind. Dupain-Cheng is one of the few that that beast will listen to and crazy enough to get near it willingly.”

“Oh, please, Kang follows me around like a puppy!” Lila laughed and waved Chloe’s information away.

“Uh, Lila, I can’t believe that I’m saying this but Chloe is right. Fang is a crocodile, his name is Fang not Kang and while he’s friendly to almost everyone, he won’t listen to everyone. He’s kind of spoiled that way.” Marinette explained.

Chloe rolled her eyes, “you better believe it. He’s chewed up my shoes before!”

Marinette giggled, “well, did you at least get some more shoes?”

“Eight new pairs.” Chloe proclaimed with a smirk, “and I’ve locked them all away from that beast!”

“Well, it just goes to show he has taste right?” Marinette joked.

“Yeah well, whatever.” Chloe rolled her eyes like her comment didn’t phase her, as she tried to hide her smile.

“Yeah, well, enough about the amphibian.” Lila began as she decided it was time to change subjects, “I can’t wait to tell you all about what Jagged and Penny want me to do for their wedding!”

Just then, a limo came racing down the street and hit the breaks in front of the school so hard the back of the vehicle rose off the ground for just a moment comically. People stepped back and then jumped away from the limo as the door opened and Fang the crocodile spilled out and ran up to Marinette knocking her over and started to lick her happily.

Jagged Stone and Penny Rolling exited the vehicle next and caught up to the happy crocodile. “Aww, Fang really likes you Marinette! I knew I contacted the right girl to help me with my wedding!” Jagged exclaimed.

Penny giggled as Fang finally let a laughing Marinette stand up, “thanks Jagged. I like Fang too!” She leaned down and started to rub Fang’s tummy and then he started to tap his leg like a puppy.

“Hey, that’s Uncle Jagged to you Marinette!” Jagged Stone proclaimed.

Lila was crowded by her fellow students and couldn’t leave. “Hey Jagged!” Rose called out innocently, “do you ever miss your kitten?”

“Kitten?” Jagged gave Rose a questioningly look, “I’ve never owned a kitten, right Penny?”

Penny shook her head, “not that I’m aware of.”

Jagged nodded as he snapped his fingers, “that’s right, I’ve owned Fang here for seven years, he was only about thirty centimeters long when I got him, but the farm I got him from said that he was about a year old and that he wouldn’t get along with any other pets.”

“But your friend Lila said that she saved your kitten and got you your alligator from Australia a few years ago.” Kim offered, “or was she mistaken?”

Jagged Stone looked at the crowd confused, “I have no idea who you are talking about. Fang is a salt water crocodile which is way more rock n roll than any ordinary gator and even I know there are no gators in Australia kid. Besides, I’ve never owned a gator and I don’t know a Lila either.”

“But Mr. Stone! This is Lila!” Rose objected as she pointed at Lila, who was looking for a way to escape. “Don’t you know her?”

Jagged shook his head, “nope. I just came here to meet with my niece.” He grinned at Marinette and began to just ignore everyone else, “I wanted to catch you before school Marinette. You see, I’ve been trying to find someone to design some rock n roll outfits for our wedding and no one will make a suit for Fang! Not even Gabriel Agreste!”

“You contacted Father?” Adrien asked from the edge of the crowd.

“Oh, yeah, you’re his kid.” Jagged frowned at Adrien as he shrinked away from the disapproval in the rocker’s gaze, “you’re the one that my niece USED to like.”

“Jagged!” Marinette and Penny scolded.

“Nope. I’m not having it. Blindness must run in his family,” Jagged put his arm around Marinette supportively as she covered her face with shame, “not only would your old man refuse to make something for my dear Fang, but I can’t believe you didn’t want to go out with this girl! She’s so amazing and talented! Don’t worry Marinette, Uncle Jagged is here for you.” Jagged hugged her close and petted her hair like she was breaking down.

She wasn’t breaking down though, she was embarrassed and a bit mortified.

“Jagged, A-Adrien is just a friend now! I told you that.” Marinette muttered from behind her hands.

The crowd gasped as Alya asked loudly, “you’re over him! Really? NO WAY!”

“Yep.” Marinette took a deep breath as she finally put her hands down escaped Jagged’s grasp and gathered her Ladybug courage before she announced with a wave of her arm. “Adrien Agreste has a new title, just a friend.”

…

Adrien had a confused smile on his face, he was happy about the friend part, but sad and hurt about the ‘just’ part for some reason.

He had a sinking feeling as he thought randomly, wow, karma sucks.

Penny and Jagged whispered amongst themselves as Lila took center stage once more.

Lila smiled to herself as she sidled up next to Adrien and clutched his arm, “I guess that means that Adrien’s available?”

Adrien pulled back from her unconvincingly, “ah, s-sorry Lila, there’s another girl that I like.”

“Dude? Really? I thought you an Lila…” Nino began.

“No way Nino!” Adrien almost shrieked as he looked at his best Bro incredulously.

How could you think that I’m with HER!

“Psft, you don’t know what you want Adrien.” Lila waved the idea off as if his feelings didn’t matter as she gripped his arm painfully again in a possessive way.

Adrien realized that no one seemed to notice this but Marinette who gave him a look which clearly said ‘well, what can you do?’

Lila didn’t notice and went on, “of course I could help you figure out what you want Adrien, I’d be the perfect girlfriend for you.” Then she loudly whispered for the whole crowd to hear, “you know we’re perfect for each other and you don’t have to hide it anymore, Marinette is over you and it won’t hurt her if you start going out with someone better than her, like me.”

Adrien looked shocked and didn’t seem to know what to say. Thankfully, Marinette did.

“Oh, PLEASE Lila,” Marinette stood up from petting Fang again, he was one spoiled croc after all as she announced, “as far as I understand it, Adrien either doesn’t want to be or CAN’T be in a relationship right now." Then she sarcastically adds with a shrug, "so he claims that he likes some girl that doesn’t seem to see him for who he is. I mean, I know it seems like she doesn’t exist because this is the first TIME that we’ve heard about her and while I know it’s odd that we don’t know her, and I have a hard time believing that ANY girl wouldn't jump at the chance to date Adrien at the very least if he's asking. Still, there is one thing that I’m sure of and that the girl that he likes is NOT YOU Lila. Now please, just let go of the poor boy and let him LIVE HIS LIFE!” Marinette demanded.

“But Adrien adores me!” Lila objected with false tears in her eyes, refusing to let go of Adrien.

“Umm, no. He doesn’t. I can’t believe I’m saying this because that means that I’m on the exact SAME side as Dupain-Cheng, but that’s WHY he’s leaning away from you.” Chloe pointed out. “That’s why he makes that face of revolution around you.”

“Even I can see it, and forcing yourself on someone is so not Rock-n-Roll.” Jagged commented as he now hugged Penny to his side.

“You know, they’ve all got a point.” Mylene pointed out. “Adrien has never said that he’s secretly dating Lila to anyone, has he?”

“She actually said that?!” Adrien demanded, and they believed her?

The whole class nodded as Rose chirped up, “she said that you had to keep it private because of your father and because you’re a celebrity.” Then she looked uncertainly at Marinette, as if confused for some reason, “plus, it would, ah, maybe hurt Marinette’s feelings?”

Marinette shook her head, “look, I know he tolerates Lila, but even I’d never believe he’d date her, and why would Adrien care about my feelings like that? We’ve never been more than friends and he’s never found me attractive at all.” She waved it off, “which is totally fine. I’ve finally figured out that he’s not really my type.” She returned to petting Fang as several people gasped for some reason.

That you know of. Adrien looked away bashfully, why does Marinette not know that she’s the most attractive girl in our class? And there it is again, why does her saying that we’re ‘just friends’ sting?

“Ah dude, you’re prettier than you think.” Nino told his girlfriend’s best friend, “besides, we all knew that you liked him, it was so obvious that even we could see it.” Nino bluntly explained to Marinette herself, “that’s why we didn’t say anything to you Dudette.” Which of course meant that he was quickly elbowed by Alya.

“That was a secret!” She hissed as she worriedly looked at Marinette.

Marinette laughed and waved the idea off, “oh, that was so last month guys. One sided crushes will always end like that.”

They… they do? Adrien looked at her worriedly, but what about Ladybug? Does that mean she’ll never love me?

Penny chuckled, “she’s telling the truth guys. There isn’t one poster of this boy left on her walls at home anymore.”

“Really?!” More than one voice exclaimed, the loudest of course was Alya and Adrien.

“Yep.” Marinette happily answered as she finished petting a now groggy Fang.

Adrien looked down at the ground, sad for some reason at her answer as he processed the fact that she truly had had a crush on him and it seemed like she was over it now.

“Wait a minute.” Kim of all people put it together, “Lila’s been telling us all not to tell Marinette that she was secretly dating Adrien…”

There was a flash of uncertainty that crossed Lila’s face, but she just held onto Adrien more.

“She wasn’t!” Adrien defended. “I’d never date her!”

“Never say never.” Lila flirted with him despite Adrien trying to gently pull away from her again. “I mean, I totally understand why you’d want to keep our relationship secret, I’m great with secrets after all my model-boo.”

Adrien’s face wasn’t the only one that cringed at the terrible nickname.

“Yeah, well, Jagged Stone just said that he doesn’t know her either.” Someone else pointed out.

“Totally.” Jagged shot them finger guns. “That girl is so not Rock n Roll!”

Alya folded her arms, “wait, that means at least three things she’s told us isn’t real. She’s not Adrien’s girlfriend…”

“Thank you!” Adrien squirmed under Lila’s grasp until he finally broke away from her.

Alya frowned as she went on thoughtfully as if she was still processing it, “then at least the two other things about Jagged. There was no kitten and she didn’t get him Fang.”

Lila looked around at the now wary crowd, no one wanting to believe it, but things were starting to look bleak for their world traveling, charity driving and well-connected girl, aka, Lila, soon to be, the liar… maybe.

Turns out the crowd needed a little more convincing…

“Rose?” The quiet voice of Juleka asked, “maybe you should ask Prince Ali if he knows her.”

“On it!” Rose brightly answered as she finished a text to her pen pal Prince Ali and sent it off.

Lila almost cringed as she tried to come up with something…

#To Cry #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #mlb salt #mlb angst #marinette dupain cheng #lila salt #lila rossi exposed

8 notes · View notes

lgcbenji · 4 years

Photo

✧ .・゜゜side event 006, free time; hana and hwanju

benji did not mind being one of the weirder kids. whilst other trainees and attendees flocked to food trucks and stages, benji found himself on the outskirts of the festival. he wanted to experience everything. the food and stages were easy to experience, especially when all the trainees talked about it the next day at the cafeteria, retelling recent memories, but the rest was less loved. benji, wanting to love the little details, found himself at a merchandise stand. there was one worker, a legacy staff member who did not notice him, and a whole slew of merchandise. there were old albums from debuted groups, recent type zero merch, and festival specific shirts, hoodies, and other tiny memorabilia that benji would soon forget. he looked at the merch, wondering if he should pick something up for himself. “excuse me,” he asked the staff member, in his most fake, customer service voice, “do you know if trainees get the merchandise for free or do we have to pay for it?” “uh,” the woman looked up from her phone, then stood up from her chair. she walked to the little register when a voice piped up from the ground beside benji. “free stuff?!” a little girl, maybe seven or eight, with straight, long hair, ran under the barrier. she ran into benji’s leg trying to cross over. benji threw out his other leg to catch himself. he grabbed the tiny girl with his large hands. he squeezed her shoulders to stop her.

“woah, woah, kiddo, what’re you doing?” he asked her. she looked at him. her eyes were the size of sticky buns. feet frantically stomped towards the two on the grass. “hwanju! get out of there, this is our side! we don’t go in the red zone.” a young girl, but much older, panted. she jogged towards the stand. benji let the little one go. “but we get free stuff over here! come on!” the little one tried to wave the other in. the elder girl looked at benji with apologetic eyes. before she could speak, he was already smiling and shaking his head. “it’s fine.” he chuckled. the older girl, noticeably blonde, squatted down. she said security was near and that was enough for hwanju to move back to the other side. benji smiled sweetly at the interaction. “i’m sorry about her.” the woman apologized to benji, picking up the little girl and placing her on her hip. benji waved it off. a light went off in the girl’s mind. her eyes grew. she stood up straight. “wait- wait!” she smiled, “are you a trainee? do you know my brother, hunji? he’s a trainee at legacy too.” she smiled. hwanju looked between the older kids, confused. she gripped her older sisters’ long hair stiffly. she did not pull on it. benji thought. he looked up, then down, then to the girl. “no, i don’t think so. i, mean,” he shook his head and leaned back, “i’ve heard of him, yeah, but, not much.” his eyes moved to the merchandise table, “all i’ve heard is that he sits alone at lunch.” the girl laughed. she looked at the stand too, “yeah, that’s him.” the little girl repeated, “that’s him! do you like him?” benji looked up. his brows furrowed. the little girl put her hands on her hips and leaned so far forward she almost fell off of the bigger girl, “do. you. like. him? you better or i’ll beat you up!” she yelled. benji froze. “uh…” the girl said, “sorry, she’s going through a phase where she says she’ll beat people up a lot. it’s not true.” she turned her hip so that the little girl was further from benji. she suddenly bowed. confused, benji bowed too, and slowly stood up. “i’m hana, and this is hwanju.” she introduced with a sigh. benji smiled and held out a hand, “i’m lee benji.” the girl piped up straight, “oh,” and held out a hand. she bowed again as they shook and benji remembered that he was in korea. his dimples never faltered. “sorry i didn’t say that before,” he admitted. “no, no, it’s okay.” she shook her head smiling. “no one cares, you guys,” the little girl groaned. she looked at the merch too. benji pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh, but her older sister smacked her arm with two fingers. “hey, that is not a nice thing to say.” she sternly spoke. the little girl said nothing in response. “so, how are you guys liking the festival? what stage did your brother do? all the trainees get to do at least one, i think.” he put his hands in his bleached jean pockets. the girl from the stand suddenly spoke, “uh, guys, this is great, but i have a job, so, you need to get something and go.” the little trio looked at the girl in silence. they all stared. benji cleared his throat. “uh, here, just get me one of those medium hoodies,” he pointed to the official legacy festival hoodies. he pulled out a 50,000 won bill “this enough?” she nodded, “i’ll get your change.” the sisters waited patiently. benji watched as the little one scanned for toys. “no, no, keep the change.” he shook his head. the worker’s eyes widened, “uh. . . okay.” he pulled out another two of the same bill. he put it on the table, reaching across the barrier, “and you two use this,” he looked at hana, “come find me if you need anything else.” he stood up straight, the worker passed him a hoodie and bag, and he waved to them, “and tell your brother i said hi!”

word count: 949 points: +6 modeling, +6 notoriety

#lgc:festival2020 #✧ .・゜゜solo #✧ .・゜゜events

4 notes · View notes

nightofnyx8 · 5 years

Text

I’d Still Choose You (Part 1)

Well, I didn’t exactly participate in Dickkory week because well, life happened. But I did want to create something to celebrate these two, so I wrote this little short story for this week. It has three parts, and this is the first (and probably the longest). I post the other two parts...mmm, later. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! Let me know what you think!

*****************************************

“Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering.”

-Nicole Krauss, The History of Love

*****************************************

Dick Grayson paced quickly around the cramped, stuffy room, running his hands nervously through his hair. She had been in there too long.

“Dick, will you sit down?” Garfield called down from the coach. “You’re making me dizzy.”

“It’s been two hours, Gar. Something’s not right.”

“I’m sure she’s fine.” Rachel chimed in. “There’s no point in worrying when we don’t have all the facts yet.”

The large oak doors opened, and Alfred stepped out.

“Master Dick, Miss Kory is—”

But he was already running past Alfred, into the small room that had been the established “hospital” in Wayne Manor for as long as he could remember. There she was, her beautiful crimson hair spreading out on the pillows like a fan.

“Kory!” He ran to her and stroked her hair away from her eyes—eyes that held confusion and surprise. Taking her face in his hands, he sighed in relief to see the woman he loved alive and well. “I thought I’d lost you.”

He pulled her gently towards him for a kiss, but she shrieked and backed away, her green orbs now filled with fear.

“Kory, are you alright?” He gripped the edge of the bed, panic rising in his chest. “It’s just me.”

And then she stared at him in a way she never had before, almost…almost as if he were a complete stranger.

“Who are you?”

*****************************************

“I don’t understand, how can she not remember me?” Dick sat in the back of the examination room, the neuroimages of Kory’s brain projected on the screen.

“Physically, she’s perfectly fine.” Clark responded, musing at the images.

"Agreed.” Bruce stated from the back. “No broken bones, no internal trauma. But it’s her brain that’s been affected.”

Dick wasn’t really sure why Superman was at the Batcave, but given the circumstances at the moment he didn’t really care.

“What’s wrong with her brain? Did she hit her head?”

“We’re not sure.” Bruce responded. “But something definitely happened between when she was kidnapped by the Psions and before you rescued her.”

“Well then, fix it.” He got up impatiently, making his way to the side of the window, watching the sun rise over the orchards that surrounded the estate. He didn’t want to hear whatever lecture Bruce would give next.

“Dick, you know it’s not that easy.” Bruce’s voice didn’t sound angry this time. “The brain is very complicated and unpredictable.”

The doors opened to reveal Rachel running in, Gar at her tail. Dick had to only take one look at her expression to know whatever news she had wasn’t good.

“Rachel, what happened?” Clark stepped off the platform and drew up a chair. Rachel sat down, holding her head in her hands.

“I was able to look into her mind.” She said quietly. “It’s…it’s bad. There’s a dark hole in her mind, meaning she’s literally lost all of her memories from her time on Earth. The last memory her mind holds is being taken by the Gordanians from Tameran.”

“But, Rachel.” Dick stepped away from the window to meet her. “That was ten years ago.”

“I know.” She said sadly. “She doesn’t know who any of us are on Earth.”

Bruce turned back towards the computer monitors, his expression contemplative. “If she had lost all of her memory from the past ten years, then why can she still understand English? Wouldn’t have she forgotten that as well?”

“That’s the weird part. She remembers the language, what things are called, even where certain places are. Her knowledge is perfectly intact, but her memory is completely gone.”

Dick steadied himself on the back of Rachel’s chair. “Can you bring at least some of them back?’

Rachel shook her head. “I can only do that in minor cases. And even if I did have that power, there’s nothing I could do. Our minds can hold memories in the deep subconscious, and sometimes I can bring them to the surface. But with Kory’s mind it’s different. There’s nothing there. Just a big, dark, empty blank.”

“Nothing there.” Dick repeated, letting the words hang over them.

“Yes.” She stated dejectedly. “Which means whatever happened was deliberate. Whoever or whatever took her memories didn’t want her to get them back.”

*****************************************

The great clock in the grand hallway struck seven o’clock as Dick made his way to the hospital room. He didn’t care if they all said it was impossible. He wasn’t about to sit back and do nothing. He had to see her again.

He stopped as he reached the door, taking a deep breath. He couldn’t lose her, not like this. He knocked softly then stepped into the occupied room. She was sitting upright in the bed and looking out the window, the fading light turning her hair to fire.

“Hey.” He stated simply. He didn’t want to scare her this time.

She turned to look at him and he felt his voice catch in his throat. What was he supposed to say now? He took a step towards her. “How are you feeling?”

“I am well.” She looked understandable tense.

“Hey um…look, maybe we could start over?” He held out his hand. “I’m—”

“Dick.” She stated emphatically. “The one called Alfred has informed me of who you are.”

Dick.

Never had she called him that. She had always preferred his full name, and she was the only person besides his own mother that he had allowed to do so.

“Yeah.” He choked out. “Did Alfred mention anything else?”

She looked down at her left hand, the wedding bands wrapped around her finger gleaming slightly in the afternoon light.

“We are…married?”

He felt his chest tighten. “Yes. It’ll be three years this December.”

She took a deep breath, letting the silence suffocate the room.

“How long have I been here on this strange planet?” She finally said. “The last I remember…I was on Tameran.”

“Ten years.” He replied, leading to another long silence. Kory looked as though she had forgotten how to breathe.

“I have to go back.” She said suddenly, flinging herself out of the bed. “My people need me! I cannot just stay here and…and…”

“Kory!” Dick caught her as she stumbled to the ground, clutching at her head. “You’re not well enough to stand, calm down. Your planet’s safe, I promise.”

“But my planet is under attack!”

“No, listen. Tameran’s fine. It’s safe. You appointed your K'norfka Galfore as the Grand Ruler a while ago. You don’t need to worry about it, just please lay back down, Kory.”

She looked up at him, her glowing orbs absent of the happiness that normally occupied them.

“Why do you call me that?”

“What?”

“Kory. It is not my name.”

“Oh well,” How to explain this? “I guess it’s what your friends call you here on Earth. I know your name, Koriand’r. I guess I’ve always just shortened it.”

She sighed, falling back onto the bed. She put her head in her hands, Dick kneeling at the foot of the bed.

“I do not know what to do. I do not even know my own name anymore.” She sobbed. He sat down next to her and put his hand around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him in comfort. She stiffened, drawing back. She locked eyes with his, her gaze tinged with doubt.

“I am…sorry.” She stated. “I know we are, together. But I—”

“It’s okay.” He said quietly. He felt like an elephant was standing on his chest. But he removed his arm and brought in down awkwardly at his side.

“I uh, I thought you might like this.” He pulled out a large photo album, well-worn with use.

“It’s pictures of you, of us, of everyone here. Maybe it’ll jog your memory a bit.”

She took it with hesitation, letting her curiosity win out in the end. She flipped through each picture, staring at photos of herself. He stayed silent and looked at the pictures with her, from their first days at the Titans Tower, to missions with the Justice League, late nights at the carnival, playing on the beach with their friends…

She pulled out a photo from one of the slots. She stared with interest to the woman in white, smiling brightly next to Dick on the happiest day of his life.

“I look happy.” She noted.

“You were.” He blurted out. “You said you wished you could pause that moment forever.”

“I did?” She questioned. “I...I do not remember.”

She closed the book and tried to give it back to him, but he pushed it gently towards her.

“Keep it.” He said. “It’s really yours anyway.”

The afternoon light had faded into twilight, the moon rising slowly outside the large window.

“It’s getting late. We should probably be getting you home.”

“Home?”

“Yeah, our home.”

She bit her lip. “Listen, Dick. I know this is difficult for you as well, but…I need time.”

“It’ll probably help you get your memory back faster. You do want that, right?”

She looked down, and Dick felt his heart sink. Of course she would be uncomfortable. And he wouldn’t make her.

“Look, I’m sorry.” He said, getting up from the bed. “I’m sure Alfred wouldn’t mind you staying here for another night.”

She nodded. “He is very kind. I feel…comfortable here.”

He smiled, turning to walk out the room. He stopped right before the door, looking back at her.

“Goodnight, Kory.” He said softly, letting her face illuminate his mind before he stepped out.

“Goodnight.” She answered back. She let out a small smile before the door closed softly, leaving her alone again.

*****************************************

The nightmare was all so familiar. He must have dreamt it a thousand times, continuously playing back the details. The eerie sound of the wire snapping, his mother’s scream, the last moments of a child’s innocence still hanging in the air.

He had woken up pale and sweaty. It had been a while since he had dreamed of them. No matter how many times the nightmare surfaced, it always took a while to breathe normally again.

His arm reached over to the other side of the bed, searching for the familiar warmth that always accompanied it. Nothing.

He turned over, finding the bed to be empty. Maybe she was in the bathroom, or just out on the—

Oh.

It took all but a few seconds for the events of the past day to come crashing down on him, the sight of her guarded eyes burned into his mind.

He did not sleep for the rest of the night, staring only to the other side of the bed that he used to share with the woman he loved.

#dick grayson #kory anders #dickkory week #fanfiction #writing #nightwing #starfire #koriand'r

35 notes · View notes

hogwarts--imagines · 5 years

Text

Polaroids and Sweet Lovin’

GIF NOT MINE

Castiel x Female!Reader

Warning: FLOOF

Request: Anon; Could you write a Cas x reader fic where the reader loves taking Polaroids and takes some of Cas?

This was longer than intended.. Enjoy babes.

This was perfect.

The Polaroid was a perfect idea.

I needed something to do while Sam, Dean, and Castiel were gone. I brought cases to them, I did the research, and when Bobby passed, I took his place and had loads of phones labeled so I knew who I was supposed to be, if it would be FBI or CIA or anything else.

I was bored half the time so I got a Polaroid camera and I got to work. I took aesthetic pictures of the bunker Library, and even my room because it was literally aesthetic and I loved it. The pictures came out great and I decided to put them in an old empty photo album.

When the boys got back days later, I discretely took pictures of them. Dean eating pie or anything else he could shoved in his mouth. Sam reading books, grooming his long hair, something. I would get pictures of them doing silly things, laughing, or even sleeping in the chair they were sitting in.

I knew it would be awkward if they caught me, but I loved taking pictures, capturing the moments that were filled with joy, and positive things.

God only knows how much hell we literally go through.

The one time I grew the balls to capture a picture of Castiel was probably the best decision ever.

I had a huge thing for the angel, but I never acted on it since, well, It’s Cas. I wasn’t as strong and Sam or Dean. I didn’t go out and hunt. I was a small quiet person who was to damn awkward to get a full sentence out at the angel.

The picture took my breath away. I walk walking around finding things to take a picture of and turned the corner and saw him standing in the farthest window from me. He was looking out the window, the sunny day was shinning through the window and lit his face up in all the right places. I took the picture and turned around to put it in my album.

So since then, many more were taken.

---

Another moment, I didn’t mean it, really.

I was walking and dropped my camera, picking it up I checked for damage. I looked through the lens. I just so happened to be facing Cas’ bedroom, door wide open. I didn’t realize that when I took the picture he was in the room.

I held the photo in my hands as I continued walking towards the library. I shook the photo a few times and looked at it. I sucked in a deep breath and felt my cheeks heat up.

Cas was shirtless. His back was to me, and his head was turned to the right slightly as he looked at his, wings. They were out for the world to see. The picture captured that moment and I almost died from how beautiful the picture was. Tucking it into my pocket I turned around and charged for my room to put it safely into my album.

“Hey Y/n,” Dean was right behind me “What were you looking at?”

“N-nothing” I felt my cheeks heat up as I took a step back.

“Mmmhmm” Dean smirked at me and stepped forward “That was quite the picture you took”

“WH-what pict- What picture?” I stuttered out and continued to step back.

“Tell me, does Cas know you took that?” Dean grinned and started laughing.

“Fine” I huffed out and grabbed his arm “Come look at this.”

I dragged him all the way to my room, past Sam and Cas who were now in the hallway, leaving them with confused looks towards a laughing Dean.

“You took these?” Dean asked as he looked through the album.

“Just something I started doing to pass the time” I fiddled with my fingers and trained my eyes on my bed.

“They’re.. Beautiful” Dean smiled as he flipped through the pages, stopping when he saw more with mostly Cas. “Seems you got stuck with one thing”

“I...” I trailed off and looked at his eyes “He’s just so.. Angelic.” Dean laughed at that.

“See, I knew it” he managed to get out between laughs.

“Knew what?” I snagged the album back from him and handed him the recent picture I took.

“That you like him” He spoke casually and starred down at the picture. “This.. This is by far the best one you took. You should keep this one close.”

“I do not!” I argued “and why would I do that?”

“In case you miss him and you can just look at this” Dean smirked again.

“What? No!” I snatched the picture and put it in the album. “We do not speak of this. This is between us.”

“Yes ma’am.” Dean took the album and closed it, putting it back under my bed. “Food?”

“Food”

Since then, Dean made sure to point to Cas whenever he’d show up, jokingly trying to get me to take pictures. Dean started randomly posing for the camera and I of course, took the picture.

Sam caught on, never seeing the album, and would make silly faces whenever he noticed me taking a picture. During these moments Cas would look at the boys like they were crazy. He never noticed I was there taking a picture.

---

I was sick, Sam and Dean left to go check out a possible case, while I stayed in my bed sick. I was looking through my album when I slowly drifted off to sleep.

---

Narrative POV

Cas listened to Dean and came to check on y/n. Walking into her room to see her sound asleep. Walking over to her bed, Cas noticed she had a photo album open and resting on her chest as she slept. Picking it up, Cas went to close it, but noticed a picture of Dean.

Deciding to start from the beginning, he slipped through the pictures. None of them are her. Except one. Stopping to study it, he couldn’t help but smile.

She was standing facing the mirror. She was wearing her favorite black shorts, and a shirt she had ‘borrowed’ from him. The way the shirt was sitting on her, you could barely tell she was wearing shorts. But Cas would recognize those from anywhere. Her hair was tied up in a sloppy bun, and her camera was held in both hands and up to her face. Blocking it.

Cas loved the picture, and he wanted to see more of her in the album. However, he was met with a surprise.

The next seven pages were of him. They all took his breath away with how beautiful the picture was. And from judging by the one picture of her, Cas concluded she was the one taking the photos.

He paused at one. The one he never expected to see. But did he really expect to see any of these?

His wings, out in the open. His stance, everything. It was so beautifully taken. But when was it taken? The others, he could recall that exact moment, but that? He was in his own room. Alone.

Did she sneak inside and watch him?

Cas decided to close the book and set it on her nightstand. He would ask her about it later, if he could muster up the words to talk to her.

---

Reader POV

I was finally better. Waking up the fever was gone and I could breath again. I was still not 100% better but good enough to get out of bed and head to the kitchen to find food.

“You’re awake” A deep voice called out from behind me when I entered the kitchen. Castiel.

“Yes?” I turned to look at him.

“Feeling better? Dean asked me to come check on you.” Cas stayed put in his spot. Dammit Dean.

“A little, just hungry.” I shrugged as I turned towards the pantry and grabbed the box of Ding-Dongs.

“I have a question” Cas tilted his head to the side.

“Shoot. But follow me cause I want to be in the warmth of my bed.” I was a bit surprised with how clear that came out.

We arrived in my room, I sat on my bed. Still holding the box of Ding-Dongs.

“What’s up?” I looked at the angel with raised eyebrows.

“That” He pointed to the album

“Wh-” He walked to it and grabbed it off the night stand, opening it to the picture with his wings

“This” He pointed to it “When?”

“Um” I cleared my throat “I can explain”

“Well, really my question is how? I saw the pictures before that, with everyone being goofs, but, then it turned into a lot of me. Which are beautifully done. I was a little disappointed with the lack of pictures of you, but you can’t really take pictures of you if you’re the one taking pictures” He was now sitting on my bed looking at me.

“There is a thing called selfies” I added quietly.

“And every picture you’ve taken of me” He looked back down at the photo “I’ve seem to recall that moment, not that I knew you took a photo. But I can’t for the life of me, figure out how you took this one.”

“Um” I repeated again “I can explain”

“Please do” He tilted his head back slightly and furrowed his brows.

“Well explain why you went through my personal belongings” I quickly threw out there, mostly because I was embarrassed and didn’t want to be put on the spot.

“Oh” Cas’ eyes widen “Uh I didn’t mean to”

“Yeah and I didn’t mean to take the photo” I added defensively

“How do you not mean to take a picture?”

“How do you not mean to go through someone’s personal belongings?”

“Stop that?”

“Stop what?”

“That, thing you’re doing”

“What? Stating facts?”

I didn’t realize he was closer.

“Seriously though, how did you take the picture?” Cas spoke quietly.

“It was an accident” I then explained the story and played with my fingers again. I started biting my lip when he didn’t respond.

“You shouldn’t do that” He lifted his finger and pulled my lip away from my teeth “It’ll make your lip bleed.”

“Sorry, it’s a habit” I mumbled. “Sorry for taking so many pictures without your permission”

“Is that a habit too?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Uh” I bit my lip again, not sure of what to say.

“I see, there is a habit that needs to break.” He moved closer again, making my heart pound harder more and more.

“I’ll stop taking pictures of you” I added quietly, still biting at my lower lip.

“Not that”

He cupped my face and pulled me in for a kiss. I froze and stayed still, trying to register that this actually just happened. He pulled away and looked into my eyes.

“I think I know how to break that lip biting habit of yours.” He smirked. The look he had and what he just did, had Dean written all over it.

“Whoa” I breathed in deeply.

Cas stood up and started for the door

“You’re more than welcome to take pictures, if you still want. But if you want a private session, taking photos on my wings, you know where to find me.” He then walked away.

I took a few moments to collect myself. I looked through my album again, trying to calm down still. When I noticed something.

The picture I took of me in the mirror was,

gone.

#castiel #castiel x reader #cas x reader #castiel imagine #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #Sam Winchester #sam winchester imagine #supernatural #supernatural imagine #SPN #spnfamily #freewill

302 notes · View notes

panickedvulture · 5 years

Text

I Think I Love You

Summary: Brendon’s been trying to get over this stupid crush ever since he found out you have a boyfriend. To speed up the process Dallon and Spencer put him through a series of tests to determine if he really loves you or not.

Pairing: Brendon Urie x Reader, Dallon Weekes, Spencer Smith

Warnings: Profanity, Vices & Virtues Era

A/n: The scene with dialogue written in italics is a flashback. Here’s a lil imagine I started writing a long time ago to the tune of “I Think I Love You” by the Partridge family. It’s cute (I think) and short (3k) and hope you enjoy it!

“Alright! Fine, you win, I lose!” Brendon huffs, giving Spencer and Dallon a forced, flat-lipped smile as he throws his hands up in defense. They’re sitting around Brendon’s coffee table, pushed away from his couch to give them all some room to sit comfortably. It’s littered with torn papers, paper with incomprehensible sharpie scribbles seeping through, glass bottles and cans of soda, along with empty bags of vending-machine chips shoved inside one another.

“I-I like Y/n, alright?” He reaches for his orange Fanta, on the verge of tipping over considering its stacked atop unevenly folded napkins they’ve used to clean up a handful of spills tonight. He throws his head back and lets the bubbles sting his throat, but he gulps heavily and takes a breath once he slams it back down on the table. “It’s no big deal,” he insists, his bulging eyes looking to the side.

He feels a warmth come to his face and goes to take another drink but no matter how tight he closes his eyes while the burn of the newly-opened soda travels down his throat, he can’t block out Dallon’s cackling and Spencer repeating, “Wait wait wait wait wait…wait a minute—”

“I said it’s no big deal!” Brendon coughs and pats his fist against his chest. “Can we just like, get back to writing. Please?”

Spencer leans into the table, eyeing Dallon who has his curled fist pressed to his lips, then to Brendon, whose lips are sucked into his mouth as his grip on his drink tightens.

“You didn’t say you like Y/n, you said you love Y/n! Not love-d! Love!”

“Well, it was a false alarm, Spencer!”

Dallon lets out a breath, shaking his hair as he gets all of the air out of his puffed out cheeks. Then he leans back against the lounge chair, and puts his hands behind his head. “How can you ‘love’ a girl then not even let her come to her band’s writing session. Geesh…”

Brendon scoffs, “I never said this was a writing session!”

“You just asked if we could get back to writing…” Dallon mumbles, looking down at his lap.

Spencer hums and takes a sip of his drink. “Ah yes,” he swallows, “That’s because you insisted it was a boys night when she attempted to include herself in the conversation—“

“Actually,” Dallon starts, “A conversation she was already included in to begin with, but you just decided to pretend like she didn’t exist.”

Spencer nods and gives Dallon a high-five.

At this point, Brendon’s finished his soda. He’s drinking it with so much rigor he might as well be venting in a bar, but it’s just orange Fanta. He would go and get himself another one but he’s already had six or seven tonight despite Spencer’s wise advice to “Simmer down.”

Brendon really does feel like a schoolboy with a crush on a schoolgirl. He’s sitting in his house with his friends who’ve laughed at him for daring to have feelings, and to replace alcohol he’s downed six (or seven) sodas of the sugariest kind. Only thing is he’s a grown man dammit who’s allowed to drink yet doesn’t even have the balls to do anything but treat you like shit out of his own embarrassment.

You wouldn’t consider his treatment as shitty. He’s always been one to over-exaggerate. You’ve been the band’s only female member since the Fever days, playing rhythm guitar behind Ryan at first until you were bumped up to lead guitar. With working on three albums you’ve definitely been a victim of the boy’s lack of inclusion.

Hell, after you recorded “Lying Is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off” you were glad Brendon couldn’t stand to look you in the eye and glad that Ryan and Spence were on their best behaviors and acting all ‘gentlemanly.’ And back then they were literal schoolboys.

“Uh, you can’t!” Brendon shouted as you took a slow sip from your drink. You were at some club. Brendon claimed that exploring the world fueled his writing, so you went with it. His fearful reaction was in response to you merely opening your mouth to inform them on if you would be able to go or not, but Brendon decided that for you.

You just stared at him, your top lip over your bottom one as the straw poked at the corners of your mouth. You took another slow sip, looking into Brendon’s eyes as his face flushed and he dug his hands in his pockets.

“Boys night. It’s uh,” he looked over his shoulder to Dallon and Spencer, “It’s a boys night...sorry Y/n.”

You giggled and right then you just felt him deflate and his warmth jumping to you. You were chock-full of embarrassment—you knew a crush when you saw it—and Brendon felt somewhat emasculated.

“Okay?” You said with caution, then stirred around your drink’s ice. “I was going to say I couldn’t regardless because—”

Brendon sputters, putting a hand on his hip and his elbow against the table. “Why is it that the one year I actually feel something more for her, she’s dating someone?!” Spencer and Dallon look at each other, then purse their lips and avoid Brendon’s eyes.

He’s kinda right…kinda.

You see, being the sole female in a dominantly male band has brought along its challenges, and Brendon is man enough to acknowledge that. The specifics though are something you haven’t exactly brought to his attention or things you’ve shrugged off with a forced smile when he’s brought them up to you. You haven’t been able to spend alone time with any of your bandmates from the day the press got involved without tales floating around of your induction in the band being solely because you got on your knees for one (or all) of them. As big as the “Ryden” craze was and as grateful you are now for your overall support from the fans, God was the hate overwhelming.

Which is why you took the first partner you got.

Spencer starts to whistle, reaching over the table to twist around a bag of Cheetos facing Brendon. Dallon does the same, sitting up straight and hunching his back to reach. They shrug, knowing you’ve been in a relationship for longer than Brendon’s giving you credit before.

Brendon stares at them in silence, then Spencer, after getting a few Cheetos in his mouth, snatches the notepad placed in front of Brendon. He reaches for the pen too then starts scribbling. Dallon cranes his neck to get a peak, and like school-children in the middle of a test, Spencer cups his hand around his writing to keep Dallon from seeing. He gives him a glare too.

“What are you doing?” Brendon stands up but keeps his knees bent, that way when he sits back down the drop won’t be too far.

“I,” Spencer starts, then sticks his tongue out between his lips as he focuses. He draws a T-chart and finishes it off with a wobbly line down the center of Brendon’s paper. He huffs, “am going to have you make a list.”

Brendon scrunches his face up, looking above their heads and to the nearest wall as he tries to think of what list Spencer could be talking about. Dallon reaches over the coffee table to tug at Brendon’s sleeve and Brendon hesitantly sits on his knees. He keeps his chin up but his eyes on Spencer’s paper.

Spencer finishes it, clicking the pen closed before he sets the pad and pen down in front of Brendon.

Brendon scoffs, “A pros and cons list—I’m not doing this!” He clutches the pen tight and tries handing Spencer the list.

“Oh come on why not?” Dallon asks.

“Because!” Brendon looked between the two. “It’s gross and rude and didn’t you see that episode of Friends? Fu-fucking Ross screwed up all his chances with Rachel, there’s no way in hell I’m doing this!”

“It’s true.” Dallon nods and Spencer sighs. He snatches the pen and pad from Brendon and holds it down with one hand as he presses the tip of the pen tight against the paper, drawing over the square section where the cons are supposed to go. With some effort and grunting as he tries to use his full force on the flimsy pen, Spencer’s weakened the paper enough to seamlessly rip the cons part from the rest of the page. He lets it float down to the carpet next to him, then drops the pen and pad down in front of Brendon again.

“First of all!” Spencer holds up a finger, “It was only like the second season, Ross did much much more to screw up his chances with Rachel. But if it bothers you that much then just do her pros.” Spencer shrugs, pressing his lips together tight.

Brendon looks to Dallon for some assurance that he should not do this, but Dallon shrugs and trains his eyes to the side of Spencer’s head.

“Fine,” Brendon grunts, clearing some napkins from the table so he can lay the notepad flat. He fiddles with the pen’s cap in his other hand but doesn’t write anything for a minute or two. Dallon and Spencer watch on with interest, holding their breaths. Brendon’s palm starts to sweat and in his frustration, he runs it through his hair.

He has so many ideas but he’s certain they’ll ridicule him for them. Some seem like too big of pros, some seem like too small, others he’s positive will require some explanation on his part and will lead to a roasting session. “Um, I dunno.” He rolls his eyes and scribbles down as he says, “her smile.”

His body shivers and tenses when he hears Dallon’s breath hitch and Spencer snickering.

Brendon runs his tongue over his lips and lifts his head up, his hair bouncing. “Look, just let me do this, alright?”

“Take your time,” Dallon says. Brendon glares at them then leans forward, using his arm to block the paper from their view. But knowing they’re not looking now isn’t enough. He knows the second he takes a break to stop once he starts, they’ll snatch it up and read the list so loud the neighbors will be able to hear.

He takes a deep breath and starts writing anyways.

It starts off small…physical things—her hair, her eyes, her face, her hands, her body—and eventually he looks up into space, presses his lips together, and shrugs before circling everything and writing—her—next to the bubble. Because it’s true.

Spencer cranes his neck to get a look, and Brendon growls at him. He’s like a mama fox protecting her baby, but the baby is you and he winces thinking of this comparison because oh man what he wouldn’t do to be able to protect you and hold you and call you his baby—but anyways he digresses.

Spencer and Dallon start to get really interested when Brendon giggles under his breath and blushes. And even more so when he bites onto the tip of his thumb to try and lessen the intensity of his smile (it doesn’t work). They begin to realize that Brendon isn’t having as much trouble as they expected. If this was truly a schoolboy crush he would have stopped after a few physical descriptions and simple memories of you doing minuscule things for him—but with how many bullet points he’s making he’s divulging onto paragraph territory.

“Okay!” Spencer snatches the paper from under Brendon and chucks it behind him.

“Hey! Dude!” Brendon huffs and sits up then picks up the paper. He flattens it out where Spencer’s grabby-hands had the audacity to crinkle it. Brendon is ready to start writing again now that he’s gotten into the flow.

Dallon holds his hand out and leans over the table, typing on his phone with his other hand. “Okay, so here’s how we’re gonna do this.” He holds out his hand for them to shush while he gets things in order then shows them a Cosmopolitan article. Not-so-short-story short, it’s a quiz. A simple, yes/no quiz.

“Question one!” Dallon clears his throat and Brendon furrows his brows at Spencer who leans back and puts his hands up in defense, having nothing to do with this.

“Hold on hold on—” Brendon pleads.

“Do you switch from being nervous and sweaty around them to almost being comfortable and perhaps chill around them?” Dallon wiggles his eyebrows.

Brendon thinks about it. He wouldn’t really say “comfortable and perhaps chill,” but he manages to keep the sweat in until the moment you leave. So he rolls his eyes and grumbles, “Yes.”

“Question five—”

“Wait what about—”

“You’re happy just to go to the store with them instead of planning the perfect evening deserving of its own rom-com montage and soundtrack?” Dallon lowers his brows and Spencer points at him then nods at Brendon, considering it a good question.

“I-wh-sure? Yeah yeah whatever, yes.”

“Question seven, when they sleep over, you’re cool with washing your face and brushing your teeth and going pee even without making a big deal out of it.”

“Of course.” Brendon looks at Spencer and Dallon, almost offended they would even ask.

“Question eight…” Brendon nods his head for Dallon to continue, and he does in a huff. “Younolongerdaydreamaboutsmoochingeverysinglerandomhottieyouseeoutinpublic—well of course not the only hottie you daydream about smooching is Y/n, next question!”

Spencer snatches the phone from him and Dallon doesn’t even argue. He just sighs and pouts.

Spencer giggles and “Oooohs.” Dallon looks over his shoulder and cracks a smile before Spencer reads it out loud. “Is it love, obsession, or just a crush?” He reads in a voice that would fit an entitled perfume commercial very well.

Spencer tosses the phone to Brendon and after giving them a glare Brendon takes the test. In the meanwhile, Spencer plays on his phone and Dallon sits in silence wondering when he’ll have his beloved back. Then Brendon groans softly with a mild grimace, and that can only mean it’s time for the results. So Spencer snatches the phone from Brendon again, and then Dallon snatches the phone from Spencer. He’s so proud it’s back in his possession he almost slips it in his pocket, completely forgetting the reason why it wasn’t in the first place.

Then he gets a peak of the results screen and huffs, blinking rapidly at Spencer and ignoring Brendon’s look of great discomfort.

Dallon clears his throat. “Is it love, obsession, or just a crush? Your result…” He eyes Spencer, and Spencer starts drumming on the table with two pens. “You’re—oops, not you-are, but your—in love at 88%.” He reads, “They mean the world to you and no one else seems to do. When your around them, nothing else exists but the two of you. It’s official, your more than just crushing on the object of your affections, you’ve fallen in love with them. You are only 25% obsessed.” He smiles.

Spencer raises his brows at Brendon and he’s finally had it. Brendon stands up, groaning loudly and running his hands through his hair. “Alright!” He shouts, stretching back and closing his eyes. He keeps one hand in his hair as the other flails to his side. “Okay okay, I might, just-just maybe love Y/n, just a tiny bit! Alright?!”

Spencer and Dallon look up at him. It’s kind of pitiful they think.

“But you know what?” Brendon reaches and grabs his bottle by the neck. He holds the uncovered top to his palm which means it’ll surely get sticky but he needs something to repeatedly ram into his hand and he’d rather it be this than the wall. He cackles, “It doesn’t matter! It does not matter one bit—” Spencer and Dallon’s eyes flicker behind him but they’re just messing with him again, of course, “—Because Y/n has a boyfriend and that boyfriend isn’t me and now I’m sad and alone and sad, because I’m in love with my bandmate who I haven’t appreciated during our entire relationship and it turns out not showing appreciation actually ruins a relationship, how about that?!” He huffs in a whiny tone, but still forces a smile. Then he looks down to his bottle of Fanta. There are still some drops left. He shakes the bottle around and hums, pleasing something minuscule is going right, then he throws his head back and lets those last few drops slide down his throat.

He turns to throw the bottle away before he smashes it out of frustration or pure clumsiness but stops with the bottle still hanging over his mouth as he sees you of all people standing in the door with your lips pursed and arms crossed over your chest. You have your laptop satchel slung over your shoulder. How could you let them start up a writing session without the heap of notes you saved on your laptop a week prior? They needed you, you were the source of organization these boys had.

Now you didn’t expect to walk into this….but it’s a pleasant surprise.

Still, you don’t have much in you to go grab Brendon by the face and finally get a taste of those lips he incessantly flops around much to your annoyance, so you raise your brows at Spencer and Dallon as a greeting before turning on your heel and walking out the front door. But you don’t leave. You just wait, and you smile knowing waiting was the right thing to do when you hear things being softly thrown inside, followed by Brendon cursing himself, followed by Brendon’s frantic footsteps.

You whip around, your arms still crossed and a slight smile tugging at your lips, but for Brendon’s sake you suppress it and bring in your firm brows.

He holds his hands up in defense. “I can explain. Okay? I just-I just, you know, we were just messing around in there and they were trying to test—”

You step closer and shake your head gently. You would have put your finger to his lips just to get a bit of a preview of how soft they are (and to see if they meet your expectations) but you don’t feel the need too. Brendon gulps and his voice fizzles away completely by the time you’re a foot in front of him.

You nod, “Go on.”

Brendon sighs. He thought you were going to hush him, reassure him that you knew it was a misunderstanding. The only problem was it wasn’t, and you knew that.

He deflates and kicks at the ground. “Y/n…I know you have a boyfriend and I respect that, alright?” He shrugs and purses his lips as he looks off to the side. “Everybody told me I’d get to liking you eventually I just didn’t expect it to happen literally the one time you weren’t available.” He looks you in the eye.

He’s not sweating. He’s comfortable, and perhaps chill.

“And so…you’re just gonna have to give me some time to let whatever I feel for you run its course. Okay? I promise things won’t be weird between us…if you’re down for that that is and if you’re not comfortable working with me for a while I—”

“Yeah, listen, I broke up with him like seven months ago.”

Brendon blinks. Then he lets his jaw go slack. “Seven?”

“Mhm…”

“Seven months ago—Y/n!” You look off then give him a flat-lipped smile. “Why didn’t you tell us?!”

You shrug. “Eh. Nobody was really interested or involved when we were dating to begin with so I figured it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Plus it’d mean nobody would rat about the break up to the press because you and I both know the second I do one of you three boys will be labeled as the reason being, right?”

Brendon nods weakly.

But then he realizes something. If you don’t have a boyfriend then…

“Bren you wanna go out some time? For drinks, or dinner, or a movie and have it not be a band outing? Or we can go to the park….the zoo?” You take a deep breath, thinking of all the possibilities. “We can go people-watch in the food court at the mall.”

Brendon’s breath is caught. He stares at you with wide eyes and a still slack jaw. Then, as everything has finally made sense to him, he cracks a smile.

“I think I love you.”

You suck your lip in between your teeth. “Is that a…yes?”

“Absolutely.”

#brendon urie imagines #brendon urie imagine #brendon urie x reader #brendon urie smut #panic! at the disco imagine #vices and virtues #vices&virtues #fluff #imagine

243 notes · View notes