# the journey. the time loop is across two days - the final part is two bars. The journey before is represented by everything before that

[jchorsky]

Main theme of ISAT music analysis yaaayyyy yippieeee

big thanks to @ asterythm on discord for the music sheets i am forever endebted to you. here's their post with their stuff! GO GIVE THEM SOME LOVE DICTATION IS HORRIFIC. https://www.tumblr.com/starsalive/755820156323774464/isat-title-theme-piano-sheet-music-for-solo [somebody who actually knows what they're doing @cocoisindecisive responded with corrections, so the edits are gonna be in these brackets!! i couldn't leave this unedited because it felt wrong] Since they've only done the main theme, i'm just gonna pick apart that. Big fuckin text post + absolute raving and ranting!! please tell me there is a functional line break here PLEA

ISAT's OST is very economical in that it constantly reuses one central motif. I want to go on a very brief tangent to cover this motif because I feel like that's worth doing. ---What the fuck is a motif?--- i want you to repeat something with me, okay? deep breaths. A MOTIF AND A LIETMOTIF ARE NOT THE SAME. A MOTIF AND A LIETMOTIF ARE NOT THE SAME !!! PLEASE DONT USE THEM INTERCHANGEABLY MY HEART HURTS EVERY TIME !!!!!! thank you. so, a motif is a little piece of music information - usually a melody, but not always, i think? - that is reused and changed. It doesn't represent anything, really. That's the difference between it and a lietmotif - a lietmotif represents a person place or thing, and a motif just doesn't. ---Great, So what's the motif?--- it has two parts, this first part:

(this is repeated with the last 3 notes moved down a tone.) *[this is a LIE how did i think this, i literally just had to LOOK]*

this is the second part:

(which has the last part change a little bit when repeated in order to resolve.) There's some nice rythmn made with the dotted crotchet and the quaver, but nothing crazy like syncopation. It's mostly conjunct, but there's one or two little leaps in the melody. It's a fairly basic melody -- perfect for changing and adjusting to the needs of each piece.

this is used in every single track in the game! I'm not kidding, it's in every single one, try and listen for it! it's a very smart use of a motif. Onto the actual piece of music!

[to quote directly - "you dont mention that the "second part" of the motif is very similar to the first statement but with it's first measure having it's intervals being inverted (and the final eighth note keeping the pitch of the dotted quarter note). or that the second measure is again similar just that the missing C from the first measure is now the downbeat of this measure, and the B that used to be the downbeat is now and 8th note preceding the new downbeat. (plus the first statement of this second iteration changing the final three pitches so that its a stepwise walkdown from G to E)" - i knew something was different, just not what exactly, thank you for correcting me] --Main Theme--

It uses the motif as it's melody (see above), and while I won't cover that again, I will cover the harmony! The instruments are fairly simple, there's a chiptune piano and some kind of strings (?) helping with the harmony in the background. The two play together throughout.

While the key will obviously change between pieces and songs, harmony is a very important and sneaky way to hide meaning in a piece. Harmonies are also very hard and hurt my brain, so if i'm wrong feel free to tell me. (Also i hate reading bass clef)

[Dsus -> Esus4 -> G (kindanotreally) -> A sus4 -> A // ii -> iii -> V -> VI] A lot of suspended chords - suspended chords don't really hold on major or minor, so this leaves it feeling a bit unstable + airy. But, each suspended chord eventually resolves onto the major of each chord, so it still feels major. The thing that decides if a chord is major or minor is generally the second note in that chord - 3 semitones away from the first note on a major chord, and 2 on a minor chord. Suspended chords have the second note be either 1 (BUT IT'S NAMED SUS2????) or 4 semitones away (sus2 / sus4). This lets it dance around either, and it keeps tension until it resolves into either one. [ to quote directly again - "and then the chord progression you outline seems like gobbeldygook to me. measure 1's downbeat is not a Dsus chord, it's pretty clearly a power chord, and it leads into an F not an Esus4. measure 2 is mostly fine though, only think is that it is definitelly a G chord! if you wanted to be pedantic you could say it's a Gomit5 but i really wouldnt bother specifiying that and whoops your roman numerals are wrong! the big issue is that this 2 bar phrase DOES contain a tonic chord. in fact its the first of the measure! this is pretty clearly in D dorian, but i think you've confused it for C major since they share a key signature. but nope! given that correction and the ones above the roman numerals looks more like a [I -> III -> IV -> V]." YEAH IM REALLY BAD AT THIS I DON'T HAVE ANYTHING ELSE TO SAY 😭😭]

[Dsus -> F -> G -> Gsus -> Asus4 (kind of???????) // ii -> IV -> V -> ii -> ii] this little countermelody continues (i'm not sure if it's because i'm looking at the piano version and OOPS it's too late now, or because there is just a countermelody. what am i saying this would be countermelody either way????) and layers quavers over a crochet and minim harmony. The harmony itself mirrors the same as before - loads of sus chords with occasional, brief resolutions to major chords. But, what's weird is that I haven't seen a single I / Tonic chord yet? there's not a single chord that's just the first note of the key. That's kinda weird - most pieces even start with that. There's something there - technically, we're not at the start of the journey, we're at the very end of it, the very end of this year-long journey that all of the character's have been taking. [ corrections: "closer with measures 3-4 its just that measure 4 is an an Asus4 to A and that adjusting for you being in the wrong key the chord progression is still that same [I -> III -> IV -> V]" ]

[Esus -> Gsus2 -> C -> Esus -> Gsus2 -> C // iii -> V -> I -> iii -> V -> I] WHOOPS I LIED. there's the tonic chord! there's C! There's a good reason for a tonic to appear here, though - we have a perfect cadence, and that is very interesting. Those roman numerals are about the placement of a chord within a key. kind of - it's important for stuff. A cadence is the harmonic ending to a phrase - in this case, a perfect cadence, from V -> I. This sounds "complete" to our ears, it feels like the piece could end there. what's weird is that it repeats twice, and keeps going on the second one. Furthermore, the melodic phrase is ending here, the motif is ending. This would be a far more "complete" ending if it stopped here. But it doesn't.

It changes from block chords to ostinatos (MIGHT BE THE WRONG NAME.), but each of these semi quaver / demi semi quaver progressions return back to one note while playing out a countermelody at the same time, still allowing for some kind of harmony. This change also builds up the pace in the piece, letting it build to the ending - this is the only thing that really drives the piece beyond this point, this building rythmn. Even then, it stops on this little crotchet chord! And then keeps going, into what is probably the most interesting part. [corrections - "a couple of things wrong with this one. first of all i analyzed the chords for measures 5-8 as [Fmaj7 -> Gadd9 -> Amin7 -> Cmaj7-> Fmaj7 -> Gadd9 -> E -> A] with roman numerals: [III-> IV -> V -> V/III -> III -> IV -> V/V -> V]. no PAC here! also, even if this was actually in the key of C major there is no V -> I in the bass and none of the soprano movement need to be an actual PAC. just a bunch of movements by fifth :]. you say the rythym is the only thing pushing the piece forward, and while it sure is definitely a fun effect that's building some nice tension the constant movement by fifth's is definitely also contributing to the tone. be wary of blaming an entire piece's success on one element!"]

[Asus -> Gsus -> G -> Esus4 // VI -> V -> V -> iii] In terms of intrumentation, something weird happens here - the chiptune piano falls away into a far more real-sounding one, while the strings stay the same within this section. in terms of harmony, again! tons of suspended chords, with one or two resolutions that keeps the piece feeling major. This cadence is. Weird. [V -> iii] isn't really a resolution at all, and as far as i could find it doesn't have a formal name the way some others do. some parts resolve (the E notes) but others don't, (the A notes), so it ends up feeling only half-satisfying. This makes sense - the music is gonna loop, because this is game music, so it does make sense to have it not resolve. But. It resolved perfectly eariler - we did have a perfect cadence. So then, why break into this tiny little two bar ending, that doesn't even resolve? That can smoothly go back onto itself, and also back into the beginning of the piece? This part is quieter, the demi semi quavers have rested back into minims, and it feels a little bit like an anti-climax to the build from earlier - it doesn't feel like a dramatic ending that the build was maybe working towards, more like a quiet moment. Despite that, the texture in this two bar section never thins - the piano is never left behind by the strings - the strings don't get quieter either, just the piano. Why is this two bar section here, then? Why end on this, and not on the part before? Two bars, huh. What a strange number to choose. [corrections - "chord progession is: [A -> G -> E -> A]. i'd argue that the previous secondary dominant to the A tonicized the A, placing us in the key of the domimant (A minor). so because of that i''d say the roman numerals are [I -> VII -> V -> I].

maybe pedantic but i dont think its actually that weird or bizzare of a choice for the chiptune melody to be replaced by an acoustic(-sounding) piano. the isat soundtrack consistently uses both acoustic and virtual instruments! this is just establishing that and letting the listener know to expect more of this specific element of the soundtrack. as title themes tend to do!

and the piece is quite resolved by the end actually. if i believed what you believed about the sheet music and never listened to the track i could see how i could think that, but giving the track a listen and using your ear to sus out details reveals how resolved it actually is!" thank you for the corrections im real bad at this]

[kreidewaltz]

summer shivers | k.t.

pairing. kageyama tobio x f!reader

about. spending the day on the beach with your boyfriend. and the unfortunate events of meeting his former teammate lead to a silly competition of showing off each other's partner.

word count. 3.1k 

genre & warnings. fluff, comedy, suggestive themes, timeskip, making out on the beach (covered w an umbrella), female petnames, drinking at the bar.

author's note. i played around and made this fic descriptive and uhm sorry not sorry for the amount of teasing and tension ??? i needed to transform my kags brainrot to a fic so yeah and thanks amy for the beta-ing ily

while you and your boyfriend are walking mindlessly around the beach, your feet are being tickled by the soft, brown sand below. your boyfriend's fingers loosely intertwine with yours as his thumb rubs over your hand, something he knows you love. the pale green polish covering your toenails is fading as time goes. it wasn't a pleasant thing to look at, but you adored this look more— a little messy and flawed.

"tobio? wanna rest or keep walking?"

he gives your hand a soft squeeze and your love-filled eyes fall on him, which results in heat spreading subtly to your cheeks, and the pounding of your chest gets a little out of hand. he has three buttons of his loose, pale blue shirt undone and is wearing a simple pair of khaki shorts, his raven colored hair looking like a mess because of the strong breeze that passes. both of you decided to go barefoot while strolling around, smiling at the other tourists, and fawning over the adorable babies you see on the beach and restaurants when you pass by.

"let's walk. i miss these moments with you. needed a break from games and everything," he murmurs as his gentle, soft gaze falls on you. and in that moment you stop walking and take your time to quietly admire your partner under the bright, monstrous sun, along with the fluffy, huge clouds floating beside the light. his other hand pushes some of your hair behind your ear, doing it with delicacy and letting his fingers leave a trail of adrenaline since his delicate touches twists your fragile heart and makes your toes curl involuntarily.

"mhm, okay. but... when did you become that smooth?" you look to the other side so he doesn’t witness the red madness happening in the apples of your cheeks. you try to the best of your ability to stop the wide grin blooming on your face. but he carefully threads his fingers on the back of your head, and you unconsciously bite your strawberry balmed lips as you stare at him again.

"i guess i learned from you. and the karasuno guys." his hand rests on your nape before it slides to your back. a low, heartwarming chuckle comes from your boyfriend as he watches you crumble under his soft gaze. you bury your head on his chest and gripping the hem of his shirt and letting out a series of breathless giggles. as you're occupied with tobio's warmth, you fail to notice him running a hand through his short, black hair, and the lovesick smile growing on his face. he tries to distract himself by playing with your hair, and basks in the lavender scent of the shampoo you have in the apartment you share. cupping your cheeks for a moment, he takes his utmost time to admire your ethereal face matching with the glowing sunlight in the background. he gives you a peck on your temple and wraps his hands around your petite body, not saying a single word. he’s just taking in your warmth and admiring the beautifully painted sun behind the both of you, mesmerizing and serene.

you know, he knows.

-

"what are you doing here?” tobio's hands settle on your waist as he narrows his ocean-like eyes across other figures, his former high school teammate with his girlfriend. he shakes his head in disbelief, running your hand on his bicep through his arms— which is a sight that diverts your attention every time. it's harder to not keep your eyes on his build when you're in that time of the month, and he has to begrudgingly indulge in your adorable whining and countless compliments about his physique. 

back to the present time, seeing the tall blonde across from you with his newfound girlfriend- who you call your acquaintance because you were casual in school since you were classmates with her for a year. unfortunately, you’re a witness to how these two idiots’ feelings bloom into something complicated- you had to force them to meet after school. tsukishima didn’t thank you or anything but the way he carefully cares for her and treats her with respect, a little affection is more than enough for you. after all, he kind of helped you talk to kageyama when you were in first years. 

"oh my! how is ms. kageyama doing?" she yelps as you slowly walk to her because her voice tends to get pretty loud. her hands tug you into a friendly hug as you pat her head, amazed with the little braids on the side of her head since it fits her. her outfits are simple yet eye-catching (in high school she wore bright hair clips), and has too many accessories on her hair. but somehow she can pull it off. 

“tobio had a one week vacation.. and now we’re here.” 

she loops your arms together and slowly walks towards the waves, relaxation coursing through your body as you inhale the ocean scent, and feel the softness of the sand even though the waters crash every time. 

“that’s nice! don’t tell kei this because... his pride,” she rests her head on your shoulder and subtly puckers her lips on your back.- as you turn around your eyes land on your boyfriend and tsukishima bickering- and a stinging pain welcomes your head as you mindlessly cover your feet in sand. she giggles and you get the clue, so you keep your stare ahead, feeling all your worries away as you watch the waves and the cool breeze dance every so often. 

“he’s gonna meet my fam later and he’s nervous!” her voice is laced with agitation as she jumps in place, and you raise your brows in amusement. 

“ehhhh, that’s normal, duh.”

“no no wait! my family’s a little uptight with who i date.. because of my shitty relationships-”

“just say one night stands. i get it.” you cut her off and bite your lip to not laugh at the offended look on her face. you can’t forget that. she puts a hand over her chest and dramatically falls back, the sand messing her styled hair. she was curious about those things, and hooked up with a few men to get experience. but you’re glad she found tsukishima, because her past is what prevents her from having a good, long term relationship. but he stands beside her and gently takes care of her, and years later they’re together, ecstatic and it seems you can’t tear them apart.

it’s true what they say, the right one won’t leave.

-

with the huge, black umbrella covering the upper part of your body, you couldn't help but indulge in his soft, plush lips, which are nipping your own right now. his left hand is cupping your cheek, tilting your head to his desire so the gentle, yet passionate kiss dives in deeper- in all honesty it makes your knees weak. his dainty hands works its way under your baby pink sundress, and give your bare hips a soft squish.

"heh, never knew you're this naughty, tobio." you break away from the kiss, but your faces are near each other, running your fingers through his hair for a moment. you stare at his mesmerizing, blue eyes to regain consciousness because his fiery lips are hovering yours, easily getting hazy just from the feeling of his lips. the way he controls your body as you get lost and drown yourself to the pleasure, and how tingly and ecstatic you become when he finally, finally touches you bare. even if you're the one getting attacked with his star-struck kisses and feather-like touches all over your precious body, your pleasure-headed mind always asks for more.

"no.. no let's stop, angel." you capture his swollen, red lips in another sweet kiss and savor in his lips that are tasting like faint strawberries before breaking the kiss. if there's one thing you learned from being in a relationship with your boyfriend, you had to stop yourself, because those supposed study sessions for him to pass his exams or stacks of school works, always leads to kissing or even slow, heartwarming make out sessions on the beige couch in your living room. or quick, messy sessions in his bedroom because he's utterly distracted by you in your school uniform. and the next day you couldn't even blame each other because you both enjoyed it. after all, sometimes it ends with sleepy kisses and slow, burning touches while the only thing covering your bodies are his dark gray sheets.

"huh, you say that and keep pulling me closer." you thread your fingers with care through his hair, and run your fingernails on his scalp. his one hand supports his weight in order to not fall on top of you, his other busy with caressing your hips. you try your best to avoid squirming under his hold because the atmosphere you two put yourselves in is scorching hot. it makes your body sweat, your lungs tighten from suffocation but you keep swimming, so desperate for his touch and warmth that keeps you sane every time.

"shut.. up, tobio." panting for a moment, you clumsily push the umbrella above you to get some of the fresh air and the natural scent of the ocean across from you. you’re sitting up as you move ahead of him and plop yourself in your boyfriend’s arms. 

"what's with earlier, tobio-chan? gettin' all antsy and... you had to give them a show by us kissing hard, all messy, and sloppy." fiddling with your fingers, you treasure the rose gold promise ring he bought for your second anniversary, which you never removed from your hand- even when the relationship is experiencing a tough road throughout the journey. he’s silent as he leaves a tender kiss on the top of your head, his other hand occupied with the necklace he’s loosely wearing- and instead of another pendant, he used the silver ring that matches with yours. there is a faint tint of rose gold on his, the design is simple- on the top part there are bits of diamonds that twinkle under the sun, and an infinity sign weaves through the band seamlessly.

it’s beautiful, tobio muses to himself as he threads your fingers together. the rose gold circlet on your ring finger looks so gorgeous. he appreciates this about you, being silent as you lose yourself in his warmth. if his doubts and the inner voices keep ringing in his head, all he'd do is take a glimpse of the gorgeous ring fitted on your finger perfectly and those thoughts dissipate from his head. they are exchanged with the happy, smiley thoughts of you that overlap.

"you kissed me back, who's at fault now, pretty angel?" before you could react and hit his bicep playfully, he tightens his embrace on your body, squishing you a little until you’ve settled and formed into a puddle because of his touch- your hands sliding on his arm. you’re not shaking your feet anymore deep on the brown, soft sand. he cocks his head to the right as his navy, blue eyes slowly close and with a turtle’s speed, he brushes his soft, tempting lips below your ear, nipping, and blowing on that spot he knows drives a whimper out of you.

tobio’s such a discreet bastard, you muse as you bury your head more to the crook of his neck and attempt to think of a payback to him later. because what he’s doing to you clouds your mind with hazy pleasure, and he hums lowly as he listens to your breathless symphony he couldn’t get enough of it.

-

“kags did change a lot, huh? probably because of you.” her hands are occupied with holding a small shot glass carefully as she moves her hand. her eyes are glued to the swaying of the tequila. a soft snort comes out of you— shaking your head instinctively because, if we're being honest, you bloomed differently because of your boyfriend. he's taught you so many things. from being passionate to that one thing you love, that there’s someone who is going to save you when you’re breaking, or that the display of affection isn’t equal to the love and adoration he’s feeling for you. 

“i only helped him, don’t wanna make this all about me.” you take a big sip of your favorite cocktail, the cosmopolitan, mainly because of the blush pink color and the tinge of sweetness that suits your taste better. your boyfriends are on a journey to find the restroom and it has been a while. the loud, open bar the internet recommended is true to its word, the variety of colored lights flashing in an hour, the songs being played on the speakers are prominent, although you’d prefer if they turn the volume up because strangers are drunk and are pretty loud- like they didn’t need to prove they’re all over each other physically. 

oh damn, they need to up their flirting game. 

“what about tsukki? are you guys good?” you smoothly change the topic and inwardly sigh because you’re relieved she didn’t push the topic further. it’s not that you don’t want to talk about your boyfriend. your perspective is leaning on the realistic side and you don’t want to bore her with your life realizations- and you forbid yourself to sound like an old woman while telling about your real feelings and thoughts. 

“yeah! even though he’s still snarky, and teases me before... he’s better now. you know, one time he asked, asked for cuddles! it’s so cute..”

"and i wonder why our classmates are so shocked when he displays affection–like, man–he's a human. he wants touch, his pride gets in the way!" your hands are moving around you to emphasize your opinion, and you smack her lightly on the head the second you hear chuckles coming out of her. you stand on your opinion though, the shield on his heart just needed a hard hit- and successfully she did that. slowly entering his heart and letting his mask crumble when he’s with her. 

"right! still thankful for you that you pushed us to confess... or say some words." you roll your eyes playfully at her statement because you could witness their feelings for one another grow and grow– yet they keep their guard up and wait for the other to make the first move. their relationship reminded you of an anime you watched before, and you push them to confess after school, giving them encouraging words, but mainly you throw them playful threats. 

"just say you confessed." 

"whatever.. oh! remember the time you and kags were all over each other at the res—!" putting your hand over her mouth, muffle out her words in a rush before she can continue. heat blossoms to your neck as you reminisce that memory. it was supposed to be a chill, enjoyable double date even though your man and hers had this urge to be competitive on every thing you did. you ended in another restaurant (which was fancy and expensive). after the course meal, she ordered two wine bottles and tobio got tipsy. you were a bit tipsy but you could make out your surroundings, but the soberness came to a halt when he tugged you and gave you a hard kiss., it wasn’t the problem but- oh god his calloused hands kept moving around your body. for a moment you forgot you were in public and your friends are here—watching you. you pulled away for a moment and went to the bathroom, your happy face turned beet red, the realization coming in and making you more flustered if that was possible.

“what!? you got us tipsy. don’t even turn the tables when i actually saw,” you lower your voice on the end to make her panic which is evident in her eyes. you acting dramatic and slap a hand over your mouth as you shake your head, and your eyes focus on her, along with your finger pointing her body and let out your thoughts in the form of screeching and overreacting—-that’s what you’re good at—-she told you before in college. and your boyfriend instantly nods which resulted in a good old silent treatment for a few days. 

“with my two own eyes, you are taking those kinds of photos for tsukishima!” a teasing smirk is forming on your face and you’re taking another sip of the cocktail. as you’re about to finish the drink, she hits your legs with her little black handbag while she squeals. before you could pay your petty revenge, your boyfriend and tsukishima’s voices make you tense on the wooden stools. making eye contact with her, you pray that they didn’t hear the last part of your conversation because they weren’t supposed to hear that. if they did, they’ll be so embarrassed. 

"angel."

"baby."

turning around to see your boyfriend’s eyes on you, you get distracted by his dirty white long sleeves and the first two buttons that are open, and khaki shorts. he walks yet he never tears his dark gaze from you, his eyes now focusing on your tinted lips. his hand swiftly slides on your waist and you have to bite your lip to suppress your whimper since his hold on your body tightens. as for tsukishima, he whispers something to her and you know what’s going to happen. 

"see you tom!! ‘bout to get punished again." you wave the couple a goodbye as you and tobio walk back to the hotel you’re staying in. while you’re going back, he gives a soft peck on your temple and holds your bag. he suddenly stops walking and pulls you away from the crowd. he cups your cheek, which is getting red as he faces you. you’re becoming flustered by the stupid smirk growing on his face and, he rests his chin on your shoulder. his breath fans on your ear before he murmurs, his voice getting husky which makes your knees weak.

“oh angel, just take me well, yeah?”

[mudhorn-djarin19]

Camping Trip - Chp 1 (Frankie “Catfish” Morales x f!reader)

Summary: The boys take a couple retreat weekend and Frankie doesn’t want to be the only one going alone. So he invites you his best friend since high school to come along. Will the trip finally push you two who have had crushes on each other for years together? Warnings: mutual pining, language Rating: General. Will change in future chapters. Masterlist AO3 Link Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 Join my taglist via here! ___________________________________________________________ Frankie and the boys sat at the local bar discussing an upcoming camping trip. The Miller boys had a family cabin they inherited that the group often did weekend gatherings at. They wanted to do another weekend trip away but this time allow the significant others to join for a couple retreat. Everyone was all excited and down for it but Frankie sighed not too thrilled that he’d be going alone. He’s been single ever since the Colombia excursion and his lady left him after the events. “Hey cheer up Fish. You’ll still have fun!” Benny said. “You could bring a tinder date or a friend.” Santiago said. “I’m not getting a tinder date… I’m too old for that shit.” Frankie replied “Okay well a friend. What about that best friend of yours you’ve had since high school? Y/N?” Santiago asked. “I mean I guess I can ask. She’s already one of us so wouldn’t feel out of place.” He said. “Plus maybe a weekend away with her is just the push you need.” Benny picked, knowing Frankie’s had a crush on you since high school but never said anything in fear of ruining your friendship. Frankie rolled his eyes. “Shut up.” **** Later that evening as you sat at home watching tv you saw your phone light up with Frankie’s name. “Hey Fish! What’s up?” You asked, a smile on your face. “Hey so uh the boys and I are planning a weekend cabin trip next weekend. They’re all bringing their girls and I uhh… don’t want to be the only one not bringing someone. You already know us well and I think you’d get along with the girls. Would you want to come along if not doing anything? He asked nervously. “Fish, I’d love to come! You know anytime I can hang out with you is definitely a yes from me.” You chuckle. “Great great.” He chuckles back. “I’ll pick you up Thursday in the evening.” You confirm the arrangement and hang up the phone. You throw yourself back on the sofa and let out a big sigh. A whole weekend away with Frankie? During what is to be a couples retreat? Man this is going to be an interesting time. You’d had a crush on Frankie since high school and been with him through everything. The typical high school crap, him going off to the military, him coming home from the heist to find Maria had left with the baby who he can’t see anymore, his drug addictions and so much more. And he was there for you in return through things such as you going off to college and your rough engagement break off with Jim. You guys were like two peas in a pod and because of that you held off on saying anything to Frankie in fear of ruining and losing the thing you had going. **** The evening of the beginning of the trip, Frankie swung around after work and picked you up in his truck. You swear he’ll run that thing into the ground for he’s had it for years and seen it’s better days. “Ready to go?” He asks as you greet him at the door, him taking your bags from you. “Definitely. Thank you for inviting me. A trip away for some fun was definitely needed.” You smile. He smiles back and places your belongings into the back of the back seat of the truck before heading back to your side and opening your door for you, helping you up into the truck. Once back on his side he starts the truck and you two make your way on your journey to the cabin. The drive lasts for two hours but is a fun drive as you two chat about life, reshare memories, and jam to your favorite rock music. You guys arrive at the cabin pretty quickly and are met happily by the boys and their girls. “Hey Fish! You made it. And I see Y/N made it as well!” Santiago says bringing you both in for a hug. “Hey Pope. Good to see you again.” You smile, hugging him back. “You guys got the room upstairs to the right for the weekend.” Benny says. “Need help with bags?” “Nah I got it. Thanks.” Frankie says grabbing both your bags and heading into the cabin. You shake your head at him, taking more than he needs to and leaving you empty handed but follow him into the house to your designated room for the weekend. “Oh.” Frankie says as he drops the bags onto the floor in the corner. You wonder what had him a little shocked until you see the room only has one queen sized bed in the room. “I uh… I’ll make a cot on the floor for the weekend. You can take the bed.” He states quickly. “Fish… seriously?” You look at him, eyebrow raising a little. “You’re not sleeping on the floor in a cot.” “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable…” He says. “Oh my god. Grow up Fish… It’s fine. We’ve known each other for like half of our lives. Sharing a bed is nothing.” You chuckle, whacking him lightly on the chest. Frankie clears his throat and nods. “Y-yea…” Knowing this weekend is going to be torture for him even more so now. Once all your belongings are all settled in your room for the weekend you both head down to the kitchen to meet the rest of the gang and help them prepare for dinner. Santiago’s girl and Benny’s girl were both busy cooking while Will’s girl was setting the table. The boys were all standing around chatting and drinking. “Hey Fish, Y/N! All settled in?” Benny asked, giving Frankie a knowing wink. Frankie stared at him, glaring a bit and nodded. “Yea, I think we are.” He says grabbing a beer. You felt bad standing around and not helping the rest of the girls so went out to the dining room to help Will’s girlfriend finish setting up the table, leaving Frankie to chat with the boys. “Want some help?” You ask. “Oh! Sure thank you!” She smiles. “I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Shannon, Will’s girl. You must be Frankie’s girlfriend yes?” She extends her hand. “Oh… um. I’m not his girlfriend. Just a close old friend. My name is Y/N.” You shake her hand, blushing at hearing her call you his girlfriend. “Oh! My apologies. I just figured you were since is a couples retreat.” She chuckled. “It’s okay. I understand. I’m his plus one for the weekend so not so out of the loop.” You chuckle and help her finish setting the table. You all had gathered at the big table, passing the platters of food the girls cooked around and chatting about plans for the weekend. “I figured we can do bonfires most nights. Those are always fun. I know on Saturday us boys plan to go up into the mountains and do some shooting. So you girls can hang out and do… whatever girls do.” Benny said. “It’s so pretty out here we should do stargazing some night!” Will’s girl says. “Oh yea!” Santiago’s girl responds. “We can do that. There’s a nice clearing not to far from here we can go to and watch them.” Will responds. You all continue your chatter about the weekend not noticing how some of the girls are giving the interaction between you and Frankie looks. Already knowing you are both into each other. He has his arm draped across the back of your chair and anytime he says something or someone makes you laugh you lean into him, placing a hand on his chest. **** Later that evening you were all huddled around the campfire Santiago had made, roasting marshmallows and chatting. It was nice to spend time with your good friends and meet some new ones. The girls were really sweet. The boys were goofing off and tossing marshmallows back and forth trying to catch them in their mouths. All failing miserably for the most part which gave you all a good chuckle. The night was growing colder and you felt it as you shivered a bit, wishing you had grabbed a jacket but not wanting to leave the fun to run inside to get one. Frankie leans down from behind you and speaks into your ear, noticing you shiver. “You cold?” “A little. Should of brought my jacket out but I’m fine.” You reply. You feel a jacket drop onto your shoulder then and turn to look up at Frankie who is now in just his long sleeve shirt, having removed his thick jean jacket to keep you warm. “Fish… “ You start to say but he waves his hand to stop you, insisting you keep it. You sigh and smile, pulling your arms into it and laughing a little at how big it is on you. Frankie wasn’t a very big man but he was big enough that his stuff was baggy on you. You look back up at him and mouth a quite thank you, getting a nod in response. When you turn your head back to the group you see Santiago giving you a knowing smirk and you look at him confused before shaking it off. Not knowing Frankie behind you was returning that knowing smirk to him. **** That night you crawled into bed, snuggling under the plush covers watching as Frankie paced around the room getting ready for bed himself. “You sure your cool with this?” He asked again as he stood on his side of the bed. “Yes. Relax Fish.” You chuckled. He shut up and nodded, crawling under the covers beside you but making sure to keep a distance between you just to not push any boundaries. You let out a little chuckle in response and leaned over to turn off you nightstand light for you both to get some well needed shut eye before the adventures of the weekend start tomorrow.

[gwoongi]

best years

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: best friend au, bff-to-lovers au, fluff, angst, guk is pining rating: general words: 2.6k warnings: its a short little fic, sort of like one chunk of a big chocolate bar and im gonna slowly feed u one chunk at a time until you’re sick and full a/n: a squint into the mind of bff jeongguk who will star in an eventual “idol best friend” series that i routinely dream about but have always felt it disrespectful to write about but at the end of the day everything i write is fiction and jeongguk would probably be less offended by a “canon divergence bff au” than he would reading my drug addicted rockstar au so :-) read it & weep folks

Jeongguk’s always been scared of the rejection he might receive from you. He might be a dream for fans across the world, but there’s a split second where Jeongguk feels like he might not be good enough for you. He’s the world to other people. But you deserve the whole galaxy, and he’s afraid that’s something that he might not ever be, even with the money, and the fame, and the doubts he tries to hide.

Jeongguk was taking a pretty big risk, he knew that. It was risky taking any step out of his house at any moment, even on the days where it was pouring outside; he’d think he was safe until he made it to the end of the road, earphones snug in his ears, and the flash of a camera behind the shrubs in the corner of his eye blinds him back to his front door in a twisted shame. 

Granted, he’d expected it to be worse as he booked a plane ticket and made a rather hasty, in-the-moment journey to the airport and on a plane with no layover. Usually when Jeongguk takes a journey overseas, there’s at least one or two fans hiding in the corner of the suites waiting for him, or someone on the plane who’d recognise his face. For this, he’d suck it up and take a photo. It was better to have good PR, and be a little bit pissed off that he’d been discovered, than to have bad PR and to be known as the member of BTS who didn’t give a damn when the ‘real’ reasons for travel were taken away.

But Jeongguk thought the risk was worth it this time. The plane touched down in Manchester, and from there, it was an hour long train journey to a station he didn’t know anything about to meet a friend of yours he’d only seen in Instagram pictures. You were at University now, a face he saw on a screen rather than a face he quite literally woke up next to months before. It had been four months since Jeongguk had seen his true best friend, and fuck anybody who was going to make him wait a second longer before seeing you again.

You were his greatest risk, but it was worth it. You were worth it.

“Fuck, it’s insane to actually be meeting you right now.” Frank is a good guy, ginger with circle glasses rested on the end of his roundish nose. He led Jeongguk out of the train station, offering to pull his suitcase for him. “I mean, I’m a huge fan.” Followed by a sigh and a quiet, “Who isn’t…?”

Jeongguk smiled at him, squinting in the sun as it hit his eyes in the direction of Frank’s face. “Thanks. I hear a lot about you, too.”

Frank grinned, whipping his head towards Jeongguk. “All sexy and scandalous things, I hope. You know, none of us believed Y/N when she said she knew you. We thought the pictures were Photoshopped, you know how she is.” They both paused by the side of the road going one way only, “Shit, she’s gonna freak out when she sees you.”

That was three minutes ago, but Jeongguk’s still playing that sentence on a loop. He walks alongside Frank down one of the streets, past a redundant furniture store that quirks his brows. A man stands in the doorway, a cigarette out of his mouth and ash dropping to his toes bare in sandals. It smells like doughnuts, and weed, and he smiles brightly. He’s missed the UK, and how unbelievably shockingly awful it is when you’re not looking at picturesque photos of London online.

“I thought you’d know that Y/N’s my best friend,” Jeongguk says thoughtfully. He pauses as Frank does as a car zooms past when they’re about to cross. “I mean, people know. The photos got leaked, all of them.”

“Hey, give me a break,” Frank says dramatically. “I only became a fan three months ago. And yeah, I figured. Finally, I understood why all the white girls studying Korean here wanted photographs with her and to be her best friend…”

Jeongguk frowns. “Is it bad? She doesn’t tell me this stuff on the phone. I mean, they go crazy on Twitter when she posts pictures and we interact, but I didn’t…”

Frank shakes his head and grins at Jeongguk until the words die out. “Nah, don’t panic. It’s not that bad. If anything, she might get a kick out of the fame. Trust, there’s always gonna be the girls who hate her because she’s friends with you and that’s like, what, threatening to their fantasy? But she loves you a lot, and a friendship like yours...it’s kinda like family, you know?”

Jeongguk feels his stomach flip, kind of like butterflies. These butterflies are sour, his heart racing that extra bit quicker. He likes the sound of family. He doesn’t like the way Frank implies it, because if Jeongguk is ever going to consider you as family, it won’t be as his sister. You’ve never been his sister, even when you were part of his family growing up. There were times you came to all of his Korean family events, the times his family called you their own, but you were never his sister. It was different to that, you both knew it but never acknowledged it.

Frank makes small talk until they make it to the student accomodation you currently live at, and because Frank knows basically everybody, a student comes to the gate to let them both in. They’re nice, big and pretty-skinned, wearing an Aston Villa shirt that Jeongguk remembers looks a lot like your Dad’s back in the day. Might be the same, might be a vintage.

He smiles at him, because maybe this guy knows Jeongguk, but the guy just turns back into the common room and doesn’t come out again. Frank doesn’t live here, he lives in a flat of his own around the corner, but Frank might as well be a resident here. He lets himself in towards the lift and shoots a text to one of your flatmates.

“Apparently she’s in the shower,” Frank says casually. He locks his phone, taps his foot as the lift rises, “Let’s hope she doesn’t stride out completely stark naked as you’re in there.”

He almost blushes, “Ha, yeah.” He declines to mention the times you two have showered together, the time you went skinny dipping together when you were fifteen. Those were things that might end up getting misunderstood, and those are his memories he’d like to keep hidden and secret. He says nothing, nothing but a thank you when he enters your flat with Frank and takes a different turn to the left as Frank goes right, towards the kitchen.

Your room is at the very end, your name on the door in stickers from a set you got from the 99p store, and from inside, he hears the music in the bathroom. The door opens silently and closes with the same volume, and Jeongguk manages to wheel his suitcase to the end of the bed and plonks himself down. As expected from pixels on the screen, your room looks better in person- white walls and a bed set that’s white with a peony pattern. Above your desk, Jeongguk recognises all your photos together, new polaroids of you and the friends you’ve made at University who Jeongguk always felt kind of threatened by. He smiles to himself, and rests his neck at a strange angle against the wall your bed is literally attached to. From here, he can see the bathroom door in the mirror on the opposite wall, but he knows you’ll only see his feet when you come out.

Speaking of which; the Fleetwood Mac song ends suddenly and the shower water has stopped running. Jeongguk hears the toilet flush and his heart starts to race. Four months of falling asleep on Facetime and texting when there was no time left in the day, and now, here he is, on your bed, waiting for you to step out and...and, then what?

Maybe you didn’t even want him here. Maybe you were happier now that Jeongguk was in Korea and you were still at home, in a new city with new friends and a new life. Maybe the memory of Jeongguk was burdensome. Worse, maybe he was something you felt you had to remember but didn’t really want to.

Jeongguk’s always been scared of the rejection he might receive from you. He might be a dream for fans across the world, but there’s a split second where Jeongguk feels like he might not be good enough for you. He’s the world to other people. But you deserve the whole galaxy, and he’s afraid that’s something that he might not ever be, even with the money, and the fame, and the doubts he tries to hide.

The bathroom door opens and in two seconds, the light is shut off and he hears you sigh.

“Frank, you gotta stop letting yourself in here without telling me,” your voice says. “Good thing I’m semi-decent. Usually I’m not.”

“No fun,” Jeongguk teases, and silence follows. There’s a pause in the room, and Jeongguk cocks his head with his left cheek on his shoulder, waiting for you to click and appear in front of him. Suddenly, there’s small but quick thuds across the carpet and Jeongguk feels his chest tighten with a nostalgic feeling as you come into view with wide eyes, damp hair and nothing but a bra and those stupid black worn leggings you refuse to throw out.

The grin that reaches Jeongguk’s eyes now aches as he laughs at you, at the way you gape in his presence. It takes a moment, a moment of what feels like could be the rejection that Jeongguk absolutely fears, but then you smile so wide that Jeongguk feels it in his stomach.

“Holy shit!” you exclaim loudly, bringing a hand to your mouth as you hurry towards the bed. It dips beneath your knees and Jeongguk rises up to a sitting position. “What the fuck!”

He laughs out loud, and when you’re next to nothing away, Jeongguk wastes zero time in bringing you into his arms, tightly hugging you.

“Careful, my hair’s all wet,” you squeak.

“Don’t care.”

He really doesn’t. There’s probably going to be a damp spot on his clothes after, but that’s okay. You groan loudly with happiness as you hug him in return as tightly as he is hugging you, your weight on his lap and your arms around his neck. Jeongguk smiles so wide, sighing with content into your neck. Here, he smells the marshmallow wash on your skin, the fragrance of your hair that kind of reminds Jeongguk of cabbage patch babies.

“You smell good,” he mutters. You laugh quietly, squirming when his nose sniffs across your neck like one would kiss. “I don’t.”

“You do, you always smell good,” you reply. One sniff, he laughs, “See!”

“Mmm,” he plays along, “the sweet smell of planes and trains and jetlag.”

That makes you laugh, and at the mention of jetlag, Jeongguk realises he could probably fall asleep like this given the chance. He has missed this, missed you, so fucking much. The emotions are overwhelming. 

Jeongguk kisses behind your earlobe, and just underneath your jaw. That’s new. Jeongguk was a cheek-kiss kind of best friend, but never this. You’re not complaining. Your head drops to one side, almost giving him more access to the space free, and he occupies it. Those fucking butterflies; Jeongguk feels sick with nerves as he kisses you, under your chin and across your neck, on that spot on your collarbone you found out tickled after Seven Minutes in Heaven in Year 8. Maybe your fingernails in his hair are a way of you telling him to stop- it’s something he can think about tonight if he can’t fall asleep, something he doesn’t care to think about when he kisses on your actual jawline, to your cheek and the corner of your mouth, your cupid's bow.

He moves away with a blush that matches your own, but maybe you can’t see his in the colour of your fairy lights. He plays with the confusion as he moves the hair that's across your face around your ears, smiling and raising his eyebrows. Jeongguk convinces the role of casual to perfection and bites back a sour taste when he notices you’re the same. Casual, unmoved, maybe even like it didn’t mean a thing.

“Your hair is so fucking wet,” he sniggers boyishly.

“I told you,” you shrug. You shrink, relaxed, “Fuck, Guk, why are you here? I mean, I’m literally so happy, but...Are you gonna get in trouble for this?”

“I dunno,” he admits. “Maybe, probably. I mean...the guys know I’m here. Hoseok drove me to the airport with Jimin.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Jeongguk sighs loudly. “Yeah, I know. Frank told me all about the girls.”

“Little fucker. Is he here? I’ll punch him for mentioning it to you. It’s honestly fine. Girls will be girls.”

“You’re my best friend for life, it’s important to me that you’re not uncomfortable by it-”

“I’m not,” you assure him, hands trapped in his hair. “Damn, this got long. Didn’t look long over the phone.”

“Was growing it out,” Jeongguk replies. “Heard you fancied Keanu Reeves, couldn’t handle the competition.”

“Ha!” you retort. “Simp.”

“For you,” frowns Jeongguk dramatically.

Conversation fizzles comfortably, to the point where you both forget that Jeongguk’s underneath you and your legs are wrapped like a koala around his middle. The fact that this is normality for you both is ignored. You’ve done worse things together. Jeongguk even knows that the bra you’re wearing now is one he bought for you. That could be why Jeongguk feels the way that he does, why this confusion wraps around his body and traps him. Jeongguk knows that the butterflies in his stomach don’t just appear because you’re his best friend he hasn’t seen in a while. He knows what they mean when they flutter when your name pops up when you’re calling him, when an interviewer tries to catch him out by bringing you up in another interview that you don’t need to be mentioned in.

Jeongguk knows that coming here was worth the confusion, and the nerves, and the fact that this will be a headline when it gets out. JEON JUNGKOOK GOES TO UK TO VISIT HIS BEST FRIEND...BUT ARE THEY MORE? Or worse, NETIZENS HAVE PROOF THAT BTS JUNGKOOK IS DATING HIS BEST FRIEND Y/N…

He doesn’t want to hurt you. That’s how he feels scared. For you to be scandalised by an article online that caught him out in his feelings, he knew it wasn’t fair. Jeongguk might be too afraid to say he’s in love, and too afraid to find out if you feel it too, but he’d risk those feelings and the headlines if it meant spending one more day with you.

Jeongguk’s got a week and a half with you. Something’s gotta give within this week. He doesn’t want to go back to Korea with more regrets than he came with, and for now, he’ll just have to swallow those butterflies back down when they pour out of his mouth. Right now, he can’t afford to be caught out. It has to be known on his own terms, when the timing is perfect. It has to be perfect, because it’s what you deserve. It has to be perfect, because if it isn’t, then Jeongguk doesn’t think it will be worth it.

Losing you to a headline and a butterfly is out of the question. One tries to escape when you hop off him and shrug on a jumper from out of your wardrobe. If you noticed his unease you didn’t mention it. He wants to cry, wants the confusion to go away for the night so he can enjoy it.

Fuck.

For now, he thinks as he follows you with an arm around your shoulders out of your bedroom and towards the kitchen to meet the others, he’ll just have to fake it til he makes it. Just like always. Put on a face, put on a show, until it all feels worth the spillage. He can’t let the butterflies escape yet.

It has to be perfect, and he’ll have to be patient.

[fullmetalscullyy]

an angsty prompt that i think could work for roy OR riza, if you want it!! (a drink glass slammed) "I am a WAR HERO—" (clenched fists) "You were a CHILD—barely an adult—clinging to naive ideals about how the world works, and you're a fool if you think that you can change a damn thing." (a sigh. fists loosen)

hi anon!! your mind btw... this was a good one!! thank you so much!!

not me tentatively posting this in the hopes i did such a good prompt justice and that it sounds all right

please heed the warnings before reading

rated: m | words: 1774 | warnings: adult themes, allusions to suicide, alcohol abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms 

“Sir, that’s enough to drink.”

Hawkeye reached across to grab his glass, but Roy moved it out of reach instantly, affronted she would even dare to try. He should have gone to the bar. At least there she wouldn’t have tried such a thing. In his own home, with no one else about, was another matter.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s enough –”

“Hawkeye.” He barked at her, anger replacing his irritation.

“Sir, this is not the way to do this.”

“Just one, then I’ll get to work,” Roy deflected, turning his shoulders so that the glass was shielded from her wanting hands. He was also ignoring the fact that it was past midnight, and he should be asleep instead of turning to a bottle of whisky.

“What work are you going to get done in a drunken state?”

“I’ll get it done,” Roy snapped. “I have a plan,” he lied. He had nothing left. “It will change everything –”

“You won’t,” Hawkeye fired back, hands clenching into fists. “Not like this,” she shook her head. “Nothing will change while acting like this, burying yourself inside a bottle like a coward.”

“Coward?” He echoed her claim, disbelief and outrage flooding him. He slammed his tumbler onto the table, spinning to face her. “I am a war hero,” Roy growled, cutting Hawkeye off. He’d survived that hell and come back home. He at least deserved to drink to forget –

“You were a child – barely an adult – clinging to naïve ideals about how the world works, and you're a fool if you think that you can change a damn thing.”

Breathing heavily, Hawkeye continued to glare while Roy’s face slackened in his shock. Her words cut into her chest painfully, each a dagger inside his heart. His true feelings were being laid bare, ripped unwillingly from his mind. It was all correct, he just didn’t want to admit it. He couldn’t. If he did, he would break completely.

Both war-weary soldiers were frozen in a stalemate, glaring at one another.

Roy had set out to achieve greatness and do something good in the world… And it had all burned around him. How could he accept that his dreams, ideals, and views of the world had been painfully twisted into reality? It had not been gentle or forgiving. That innocent, optimistic, young man had been turned into a mass murderer with the snap of two fingers. Everything had been ripped from him. He’d failed. It was of catastrophic proportions, and Roy didn’t want to admit that just yet. His mental state was fragile, so could only handle so much at one time. Drinking was the only coping mechanism he had. He didn’t deserve anything else.

However, she’d been just as bad as him over there, thinking she could change the world… Only for it to come crashing down and turn to ash horrifically before her very eyes.

And who prompted that decision from her? Roy’s inner voice hissed inside his mind, as unforgiving as the truths that were being laid bare tonight.

Finally, a sigh passed through Roy’s lips, the air dragging itself from his lungs. His gaze dropped, hiding from the heat of Hawkeye’s stare. The side of Roy’s palm tingled from its contact with the table below. The sensation dragged him back to the present. The grip on the glass loosened, blood returning slowly to the tips of his fingers.

“We were both children,” Hawkeye corrected herself, voice softer and apologetic.

“We were. We still are.”

“Sorry, that was harsh and over the line –”

Roy shook his head. “No, you are correct. You’ve never held back before either, Hawkeye. Why stop now?” As a reflex, he lifted the glass to his lips and took a large swig. The time when it returned to the varnished wood, the contact was gentle. The fight had left him.

“So, not a war hero.” Roy’s eyes never lifted from the tumbler. “What would you call us then?”

“War criminals.” Hawkeye’s reply was sharp yet simple. There was no hesitation in her reply and no shying away from her truth. It was spoken with such conviction that it made Roy pause for a second.

“War criminals…” His fingers circled the rim of the glass. That was correct. They were. There was no hiding from it and there wouldn’t be for the rest of their lives. The question was, what to do now?

“Of course. That was no war. It was an extermination.”

The bile that had been roiling inside his stomach continued to do so, every so often jumping up into his throat. It was like a game to see how much it could torment him before it removed itself from his stomach completely.

Roy pushed the tumbler still half full of whisky away from him, moving it out of reach.

He knew his goals, knew his destination, but in his stupor Roy was like a lost little boy, just like Hawkeye had said. In that exact moment he was floundering, desperately trying to cling to life while at the same time thinking it would be so much easier and better for everyone if he gave up that fight. In his current emotional and mental state, he had no idea where to go now. He’d ask Hawkeye for help however he’d brought this down on them both. He couldn’t take anymore from her.

“Where do we go from here?” It wouldn’t hurt to get a second opinion.

“Up, Sir,” Hawkeye replied without hesitation. “There’s no other direction to go.”

“Do we deserve to live after the atrocities we caused?” His heavy lids blinked slowly as he glanced up at his old friend. That question had been weighing on his mind heavily for days and the outcome he’d arrived at was not pleasant.

“We must.” Hawkeye was determined but her voice was a whisper, unable to rise any higher. “We have to keep going so this never happens again. We will make a change.”

“Sacrifice ourselves for the greater good?”

“We will bear it, so they don’t have to.”

It terrified Roy to think about the journey to come. Sleep was already non-existent for him. It wasn’t worth it because the nightmares would come. How much longer could he cope? How much longer could he ride this out?

“Sir?” Hawkeye called to him, dragging himself from the depths of his dark mind once more. She was concerned. A tiny step forward was taken, moving closer, before coming to a stop. “Roy?”

“Yes?” His voice was rough, trembling as it passed through his throat. Clearing the lump there, he met her eyes while moisture swelled within his. He was so tired. He needed direction, purpose, something. Anything that would tear him away from his thoughts and his memories would be Roy’s saving grace that night. He was a desperate man, on his knees, begging.

“We’ll get through this. Together.”

Looking in her eyes, he saw the determination in them. Another hesitant step was taken forward and Hawkeye gently slid her fingers atop his. Her touch was ghost-like, barely there but held enough pressure to make him shiver. Roy was frozen, lips parted in his shock, but unable to look away from Hawkeye. His old friend. His saviour on more than one occasion.

Hawkeye’s eyes were on their hands instead. Her digits looped around his, the opposite to her soothing touch from before. They clung on tightly. “Together.” Roy had to strain to hear her whisper.

Surging up from the chair he wrapped his arms around her in an embrace. Coming together at once, their kisses were feverish and desperate. Hawkeye – no, Riza – was equally as frantic as him. Her hands shoved at his military jacket as she whimpered, trying to remove it from his shoulders while his fingers loosened hers, revealing the crisp white shirt underneath.

“Don’t leave me,” he pleaded in a whisper against her lips.

“Never.” Her reply was immediate, claiming his lips with her once more.

A sob escape Roy as a tear fell down his cheek. “I – I mean it, I –” Roy pulled away, gripping her upper arms tightly. She was pulled back from him as Roy bowed his head, averting his eyes. His lids were squeezed closed tightly. He knew this was wrong. Roy couldn’t and shouldn’t be asking anything from her after what he’d done. He shouldn’t be doing this either –

A gentle hand on his cheek guided his face back up. His jaw unclenched as he looked at Riza, feeling desolate in every way. She didn’t deserve this kind of behaviour from him.

“Never,” she stressed. “Not tonight, not ever. We –” She swallowed thickly. “We have too much work to do,” Riza added in a quiet whisper, as if afraid speaking it too loud would break him there and then. “And we’ll see it through together. But…” Her hand dropped as she bit her lip. Quickly, her eyes moved away from Roy’s, looking off to the side in shame.

“What?” His prompt was gentle even with his hoarse voice. Roy was still blinking away tears as he listened intently to her, hanging onto every word.

“I need you.” She was anguished, ashamed to admit it, just like him. Roy could sympathise completely. “I know I shouldn’t – we shouldn’t – but I can’t –” Her eyelids fluttered closed, expression pained, as Riza took a moment to collect herself.

“I need you too,” Roy admitted quietly. He hated to do it, but it was the truth. He was at rock bottom anyway, how much further could he fall now? This self-destructive behaviour of theirs was mutual but maybe…

Just maybe, Roy thought, it would keep them both alive for another night.

“I need you as much as you need me.”

Riza stepped forward into his embrace once again, cupping his face tightly in her hands.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. This wasn’t healthy. It was better for his physical health than the alcohol, but it was still wrong. His actions didn’t warrant him getting to hold her, cherish her, and love her. He wasn’t in the best frame of mind either, but neither was she. It was bad.

All Roy knew was Riza. All he wanted was Riza. And it was enough to get him through the night, to forget for a moment, and to live another day.

[earliebirb]

stevetony + "one person confesses when they think the other person thinks they're asleep BUT WAIT they're not actually asleep and heard the whole thing"? Thank you so much for your lovely fics, they always make my day and I love your style!! 💕💕💕

AAAAAAAH JEN. You’re too sweet! :(

Thank you so much for the prompt! I adore this prompt. Also, for some reason it turned into another vague college au??? More like vague no powers au with a sprinkle of college, but yeah. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one and I hope I did the prompt justice!

ignorance is (not) bliss

steve/tony, au: college, fluff, getting together, 2074 words 

“Come on, Tony. Let’s go.” 

Steve has an arm around Tony’s waist and one of Tony’s arm slung over his shoulder, guiding him step by step as they trudge their way home. After a few of Tony’s wobbly steps forward, however, it becomes clear that they’re not going to make any significant progress in their homeward journey if they keep going like this.

Steve stops in his tracks and Tony’s body sways into Steve’s. 

Tony looks at him and giggles, blinking languidly. Under the yellow streetlights, drunk and unable to walk in a straight line, he still looks unfairly breathtaking. 

Steve ducks his head, biting his lip to suppress his laughter. He sighs before crouching in front of Tony decisively. 

“Come on, I’ll carry you home.” 

There is a brief silence in which Steve becomes worried that Tony is too drunk to understand what he’s supposed to do, but then he hears the shuffle of Tony’s sneakers on the ground and then he feels Tony’s weight settling over his own body, his arms looping around Steve’s neck from behind. Steve reaches behind him and hooks his arms under Tony’s knees before standing up with a grunt. 

“Hold onto me, okay? Don’t let go,” Steve says, turning his head to the side as far as his head allows to attempt to look at Tony. He can’t actually see Tony’s face, but the man hums contentedly into Steve’s neck and Steve shivers when he feels the cold tip of Tony’s nose brush against his skin. 

“I’m going to take that as a yes.” Steve grins to himself, overcome with fondness. There’s something about drunk, pliant, and half-awake Tony that pulls at his heartstrings and overwhelms him with the need to protect.

He begins walking quietly then, the weight of Tony comforting and warm on his back, dirt and asphalt crunching under his shoes. 

“Did you have fun today?” Tony slurs into his shoulder.

“Yeah, I did,” Steve replies sincerely, his mind recalling the events of the night with a smile. Tony had organized a surprise party at a karaoke bar attended by their small circle of friends. Steve had a surprising amount of fun just watching his friends goof around half drunk, enjoying their terrible renditions of various songs. Tony’s own ear-splitting cover of Highway to Hell is Steve’s personal favorite. 

“Although, I would argue that you ended up having way more fun than I did,” Steve teases. Tony giggles, his breath warm against Steve’s neck. 

“Happy birthday, Steve,” he mumbles sleepily into Steve’s shirt. 

“Thank you, Tony.” 

They spent the next few minutes in companionable silence before Steve attempts to make conversation as he turns the corner of the street. 

“Hey, how much did you actually drink? Can’t remember the last time I saw you this drunk.”

His inquiry is promptly greeted by resounding silence. 

He comes to a stop, glancing back at Tony. “Tony?”

More silence. Without the sound of his walking, he can hear Tony’s steady breathing.

“Out like a light, huh?” Steve says to himself, before lifting Tony further up on his back and resuming the walk home.

“You know, Tony. I really did have a lot of fun today. I always tell you that I don’t like surprises, but I find that I don’t mind them so much… coming from you,” Steve confesses, and he doesn’t know why he’s doing this, pouring his heart out to Tony when the man is clearly not awake. Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s 3 AM on a Friday night. The neighborhood is mostly asleep and the way the world is quiet right now makes him feel sort of invincible, gives him the kind of courage to do things he wouldn’t normally do, makes him feel that anything he does right now isn’t quite real and won’t have any permanent consequences. 

So maybe that’s why he continues to say whatever he wants, opening the floodgates for secret confessions his heart longs to say aloud, letting the words flow out without the common sense from his brain there to stop them.

“I loved the surprise party. I loved watching all of you sing your hearts out. Although, I don’t know if we can call most of what we did ‘singing’. Maybe more… passionate screaming.” Steve chuckles.

“But if you want me to be honest? This, right here, is my favorite part of the entire night,” Steve says, relishing the way Tony’s brown curls tickle the side of his neck, his head lolling back and forth on Steve’s shoulder with every step he takes. 

“I would give up even the most amazing, crazy, mind-blowing party if I got to spend a night with you, just the two of us. I really don’t care what we do, just as long as you’re by my side. Hell, you could even slander my favorite TV show and talk my ears off about how scientifically inaccurate it is.” Steve feels his own lips turn up in a helpless smile just at the thought of it, a wave of longing so powerful taking over him and leaving him breathless.

Steve takes a deep breath. 

“The truth is… I’m in love with you, Tony,” he finally says out loud, for the first time ever. The way he is able to express how he has always felt about Tony without any inhibitions feels unbelievably freeing, a lightness filling his limbs, making his steps lighter. He feels untouchable.

“I’ve known this for a while and it’s simultaneously the best and worst feeling in the entire world. Sometimes when I look at you, I feel like I love you so much my heart is going to burst with it.”

He makes it into the elevator of their apartment building, pressing the button for their floor. His own reflection stares back at him from the smooth metal elevator doors as they close. Then his eyes fall on Tony, fast asleep on his back. 

“Some days, it makes it hard to breathe. Other days… On days like today, it leaves me feeling all dopey and happy like I’m on cloud nine,” he says, his voice disconcertingly loud in the small enclosed space. He allows himself a few seconds to lean back against Tony’s warmth and lets his eyes linger on their reflection, indulging in the brief fantasy of them being an actual couple. They look good together. 

The elevator dings. Steve carries Tony out of the elevator and manages to punch in the passcode to Tony’s apartment door—right across from his—with some difficulty, all the while making sure Tony doesn’t slide off his back. He finally makes his way into Tony’s bedroom, knowing the layout of the apartment so well he could probably traverse it in his sleep. Gingerly, he sits down on Tony’s bed, extricating Tony from himself slowly so as not to rouse him from his sleep. His back feels instantly cold from the loss of warmth, his heart bereft. He takes off Tony’s sneakers one by one and tries his best to maneuver his body under the sheets, tucking him in.

Lingering on the bed, Steve leans close to sweep Tony’s brown locks away from his eyes, unwilling to leave just yet. The second he leaves, this magical night comes to an end and Steve has to go back to the reality of days spent in painful, ridiculous pining.

Just as he moves to pull his fingers away from Tony’s face, one of Tony’s hands shoots up to grab his wrist, gripping it tightly. Slowly, Tony opens his eyes.

Steve’s blood freezes in his veins. His heart sinks with dread. 

“Tony?” Steve hopes that this is just some weird bout of sleepwalking, but Tony doesn’t sleepwalk, and from the thoughtful way Tony regards him, Steve knows that Tony is somehow very much awake, which means—

Tony swallows, his eyes wide and alert in a way Steve didn’t think they were capable of being twenty minutes ago. 

“Steve,” he says, the single word carrying too much weight.

Steve moves to pull his wrist away to— 

He doesn’t actually know what he is planning to do but he supposes it’s something along the lines of locking himself in his room, burying his head under a pillow, and sleeping forever and ever.

Tony’s grip is strong and unyielding. He maintains Steve’s gaze with a defiant look in his eyes.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Steve feels lightheaded and when he speaks his words come out in a terrified rush. “You were awake this entire time?”

“Well, I was in and out of it, but yeah. Mostly.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut, inhaling through his nose. “Did you—”

“Yeah.”

“How much—”

“All of it.”

It feels like eternity before Steve is able to force something coherent out of his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Steve. Look at me.”

Steve’s eyes remain tightly shut.

“Steve?”

Steve shakes his head vigorously, eyes still closed.

“Steeeve?” Tony calls again.

There is the sound of rustling sheets, like Tony is shifting on the bed.

“If you don’t open your eyes, I’m going to kiss you.”

The wave of pure shock that simple statement sends through his body makes his eyes blink open of their own accord. He flinches with further surprise when he sees that Tony’s face is suddenly much closer than it was before. 

“Tony, I—”

“Is this why you always turn down Natasha’s matchmaking attempts?”

Steve nods slowly, feeling dizzy under Tony’s close scrutiny.

Tony starts to chuckle, resting his forehead on Steve’s shoulder. “God, we’re both idiots.”

“Huh?”

Tony leans back, smiling at him with a tenderness that sends his heart racing.

“Remember that one time you finally decided to go on a date with Sharon?”

Steve nods, thinking back to the night he agreed to go on one date after Natasha’s endless pestering, to at least try, because Sharon had seemed nice and Tony was never going to love him back anyway. 

In retrospect, the whole thing was a terrible mistake because he practically went on the date to get over Tony, which effectively makes him a jerk. Heartache had clouded his judgment, but sweet and nice Sharon deserved so much better than that. Even at the end of their date, when it had been clear to the both of them that things weren’t going to work out between them, she remained unbelievably kind and gracious. 

“You remember how I had skipped all my classes the following day?”

“Yeah?”

“It was because I had a massive hangover. Because the night of your date, I was getting absolutely shitfaced, drinking my feelings away.”

Steve furrows his brow, breath hitching in his throat. “Because—”

“Because I’ve been in love with you since like, forever?” Tony’s tone is deceptively nonchalant, but the nervous way in which he avoids Steve’s eyes betrays his true emotions.

Steve sucks in a deep breath, an overwhelming warmth flooding his chest, his affection for Tony intense and heady like some kind of potent drug rushing through his veins. 

“Well, uh, the Sharon thing didn’t work out anyway,” Steve says, feeling out of breath. Tony’s doe-eyes look up to meet his gaze at the admission.

“Yeah?” 

“During the date, I… couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he confesses, ducking his head bashfully. 

“Well, I’m glad it didn’t work out,” Tony says. When Steve meets his eyes again, Tony is looking at Steve like he just discovered that the secrets of the universe have been swimming in Steve’s eyes all along. 

“Me too.” Steve lets out a shaky breath. “So, uh. It’s late. You should get some sleep. See you tomorrow?”

He stands up, a little unsteady on his feet. 

“Let’s have lunch together? Make it a date?” Tony suggests.

A date, Steve thinks a little dazedly even as he nods. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Tony’s eyes stay fixated on him as he steps backwards towards Tony’s bedroom door.

“Okay, good night,” Steve says, slowly pulling the door shut. 

“Good night,” Tony replies, snuggling down in his bed. 

Steve shuts the door quietly before resting his forehead on it, the smooth wooden surface cool against his skin. Briefly, he closes his eyes. Then he takes a deep breath and opens the door again abruptly. 

“Actually, one last thing before I go?”

“Yeah?” Tony sits up, looking at him expectantly. 

Steve strides purposefully towards him.

As he bends down to kiss him, he finds that Tony is already surging upwards, meeting him halfway.

[theplumsoldier]

THE SZÉKELY [1]

title: fox in the henhouse

summary: count dracula visits your family home in greece and takes a special interest in you (set sometime 1800-ish) also this is just the first part:)

pairing: dracula x reader

word count: 3864

warnings: none

IT WAS THE FIRST time the Count had paid Greece a visit and he was just as enlivened as a shark with the scent of fresh nourishment. The voyage was long, exasperating, really, and it was one on which he would have to meet the requirements of an actual Count, rather than conform to those few obligations keeping a castle himself went hand-in-hand with.

It was a family by the name of Galani who had offered him shelter. They had, in fact, been burdened with the task through the Master’s (that is Basil) vocation, and had figured that given this man was a Count, he came of great wealth. Who would they be to deny expanding the company network and seeing as this man appeared to have taken a lot of interest in the firm late times, he was indeed one to impress.

And it was no secret the Galani’s kept a great manor. With their maids galore and the ever-suspicious butler, Abas, their abode was the most pompous, imperious one on the block and they were the proud inhabitants.

Towering pillars made out the front of the manor, marked with great iron-wrought detail and nearly no wear or the years affected them as they regularly were cleaned to its birth-look. Marble tiles and high ceiling, golden details on the spiral staircase, staff racing to take one's coat before you even could shrug it off. At least that was the case for the Count. He adored the rustic semblance.

To the right looked to be a gallery, some closed doors that no wonder hid a kitchen or perhaps scullery, something that looked like a parlor, and to the left, he was already met with a baroque set-up of a dining area. Howbeit, it was not one to eat at, only for the single display of the vase with yellow tulips that stood upon it. Someone was in a cheerful, daring mood, thought he.

Heavy steps suddenly sounded and pausing his inspection, Dracula turned to the thumping sound until his gaze met that of a man. Stout and tall, almost hovering the Count when they came to shake on greeting, and Dracula would suppose he was around his own age, but that would be laughable. He certainly was in his late fifties and as he bellowed in a fit of laughter of elevation, his Adam’s apple jumped in his throat.

“Count Dracula! What a great pleasure it is to host, may I just say that!”

The Count snickered and wrung the man’s hand tightly. It was clammy. “You may. And what a beautiful home. It’s rare I get to enjoy such grandeur.”

Bar his own house of glory and gore, of course.

“Come! Meet my family!”

And so he did. Two girls—or rather women, were lined up side by side. One with her hair tugged strictly from her face, embracing those features proudly that frankly, Count Dracula could not seem to find much beauty in. The daughter, however, you, now—wow! thought he. He could not keep his eyes off of you and you noticed this, blushing as he came to kiss your hand.

It was sad, you thought. How you were in your late teens and had never before been kissed, not even on the hand, until now. For a moment you thought of whatever silly boy that had snuck into your all-girls private school you had formed somewhat of a crush on just last week. Disregarding those imbeciles, you realized you had just gotten your first kiss from a real man.

“It’s a pleasure finally making your acquaintance,” spoke he and your heart hitched just then. Polite, as well.

“And you as well, sir, my father speaks highly of you. One would think you two were close.”

Count Dracula tilted his head toward Basil, your father, and he nodded proudly, flushing beneath his wrinkled eyes. The Count chuckled and looked back to you, sighing as if though he stood on a stage performing a drama. If you were not there to watch him, you would have pictured him swiping the back of his hand across his forehead as well.

“Alas, I regret to say we are not. I live all the way over in Transylvania. But, I suspect your father and I will bond just fine!”

They did, actually. Albeit it seemed Basil was more into the topics than the Count, who was otherwise preoccupied, sending you flickering – almost naughty if you did not know any better – glances. Your parents appeared to be either unbothered by the sir’s amorous yet wavering examining or simply heedless to the situation. To you that seemed out of the question, considering, right at that moment, your whole world revolved around his lingering, inviting gaze.

It was one of the rare occasions in which you were allowed a glass of wine as well. You could not possibly say no to just one glass, you would not want to come off as a little girl. But when you had your glass it was disclosed that the count did not drink a drop of liquor, or any other liquid (you later found out, over supper) so instead, you watched your fantasies vaporize in a cloud as you sipped the bitter-warm red wine.

Count Dracula confessed just before the main course, that he was guilty of having renourished a while before his arrival and already was satiated. He would not be so rude to retire to his sleeping quarters just yet, so he sat through supper, making conversation.

“What do you think of Greece so far? I’m certain you have had time to catch conversation among us Scots, have you not, Count?”

And the count chuckled as a memory of something bitter-sweet passed his recollection faintly.

“I have indeed. All I can say is your people are very, what’s the word, delectable,” decided he and it went quiet for a moment.

“Delectable” here meaning five-star rated blood but that the Galani’s need not know. And they did not, at least not Basil for he soon cackled a laugh and threw his hand on the table, eyeing the Count generously.

“Delectable indeed! Certainly our women have a great reputation, too!”

The comment made his wife, Evadne, scoff, her face contorting out of shape while you merely kept quiet over your greek cuisine. While the food indeed was delectable, your father revolted you deeply.

To be candid, and he always was, Dracula missed your involvement in the topic which fell Basil in taste. He wanted to hear your voice, so he better could imagine the sound you made when he was looped around your throat—if, no! Now he could not, he would hate to be the one to make a mess of such a pretty young lady. He was supposed to the good guest from afar with great elevating stories of Transylvania, not some brooding vampire in a b-grade meant-to-be-thrilling gothic novel.

When you suddenly did invade a pregnant pause you had his undivided attention.

“How is Transylvania anyway?”

“One big forest, really,” said Count Dracula, skimming a finger along the rim of his water glass which he had not yet drunk a drop of. “But I suppose I’m the wrong person to ask, I don’t often stretch my legs beyond my own pasture.”

“Oh, but you have to tell me something!” pleaded you, putting on a sullen frown. One he could not possibly deny even from across the oak table and he was inclined to believe you be well aware. “I have never been anywhere but little Greece. They say “it takes a lifetime for someone to discover Greece, but it only takes an instant to fall in love with her”, but I swear to you, she’s really not that great.”

“Y/N!” scolded your father, cross of your lowly talk. “Be proud of your country. It is sublime and the history that comes to our ancestry is a tale to be told.”

So he did, of course. Basil would not dare meet a stranger to whom he would not spill his entire life story to as well as the stories of his ancestors. Meanwhile, as Basil got lost in a journey some-hundred years ago, Count Dracula turned to face you, a mock smile splayed clear across his features. Your upbringing and good manners averted you from rolling your eyes at the guest.

The hours rushed by like seconds and the Count retired to his chambers before anyone else. The long trip had worn him out, he said. You thought it strikingly odd how he had all that luggage with him – well really it was only a large body-sized box filled with dirt – when he only was meant to stay with you for a few days before his return to Transylvania.

You were on your second glass of wine and already beginning to feel light-headed, merry even, had it not been for your fatigued body. Your every limp felt heavy while you were ready to throw a ball, it did not quite match up but so it appeared human anatomy was not made to make sense to the average joe.

In the late evening, when supposedly everyone had gone to bed, Count Dracula made his rounds to locate each room, or should he encounter a soul throughout his inspection, “appreciate the architecture”.

He was surprised to see the door to the hosts’ sleeping chambers ajar. What kind of people would sleep with the door wide open when occupying strangers in their own house? Though, he supposed, it makes little difference to leave a door open as opposed to shutting when they already had let evil in.

A few steps later, and he was inside, making out the center of the room.

His eyes look about him. Count Dracula felt like a muzzled fox in a henhouse, for all these treats were on display, neatly lined up. Their necks were displayed, veins pumping blood and after all, blood is lives. He bristled, shivering because he could have none and he knew that, so he brisked up his hunt and shut the door fully.

Next, he was caught mid-transit, the chary butler halting in his tracks. They both ought to be in their beds by this time, so neither could deliver very convincing defends to account for their whereabouts.

As they bid their goodnights, Dracula warily trod down the corridors until he finally heard a humming sound.

The door was barely squeezed open by a centimeter, but little light shone from inside the room and it and your sing-song hailed the Count in.

Carefully, he slid the door open by a few more inches. To his surprise you were not yet in your bed, he knew that for it was the first thing which his eyes caught. His lip twitched up, for he thought it funny, the bed, that is. All that comfort he had noticed humans seemed never to get enough of. Where he lied in a coffin filled with dirt from the Carpathian Mountains. They were complete luxury animals and it was comical to Dracula for natheless of their opulence desires, they always seemed to settle for less.

Next, his eyes landed on your figure. You stood still dressed in your gown, brushing your hair and humming to a tune which felt to your taste. He did not recognize it as a piece he knew, but just then your voice sounded so soft, so angelic and it brought him to wonder if your blood tasted the same. He had no plans of ruining your life with his thirst, he still was quenched from the early morning, but he had a code to always live spontaneously. Never say never, and his smile grew bigger as you brushed your hair from your neck, displaying yourself perfectly for him.

He was both drooling and getting hard at just the sight.

You sat before your vanity table and a few bottles were displayed before you along with the glass of wine from earlier. It was now empty, nearly licked clean and Dracula smiled even bigger, musing over the many ways he could take advantage of the situation.

“Count,” gasped you suddenly, catching him off guard while he thought of the various ways he could take you. Having you against your vanity was one particular he would not mind in the slightest.

“Oh apologies, Miss,” excused he and made the effort to step forward, into the dim lighting. “I was just retreating to my room when I heard a wonderful tune. I hope I am not intruding.”

“No, no–not at all,” slurred you, standing up to make yourself presentable. What he did not know was that you had spent your late drunk hours, making a play of him entering your room with any excuse. You would not have believed it had anyone told you that you would, in fact, receive a personal visit. “I was merely fooling about for a bit, I was going to get ready for bed. Should you not do the same?”

“Yes—” he sunk his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Yes, I should, only I figured I would postpone the act for a while. I don’t sleep well away from my home.”

You smiled and put the sand-colored brush down before you waded a tad closer to him.

“They say home is where the heart is,” said you lovingly, offering him a kind smile and he thought if you too would smile in bliss when he sunk his teeth into you.

He hummed and put his head on tilt. “Do they now?”

Nodding, a small pause ensued.

“I had this whole dream life envisioned when I was little,” spoke you suddenly.

Little, he sucked in his cheek to avoid chuckling. You are little, he thought to himself.

“Tell me about it.”

“First I would get the hell out of here,” said you decisively and his eyebrows bounced at your profanity. The sign of the cross on your neck derided you from speaking in such a manner surely, that much he was certain of escorted your doctrine. He also could understand from your dialogue earlier on that your father was not necessarily a big fan of you leaving the nest. “But I could never do that. I’m destined for nothing greater than this.”

“You do that quite a lot, don’t you? Doubt yourself.”

You shrugged lightly, absorbed in thought.

Your brood was tangible to Dracula and his legs slowly carried himself a bit closer. As if he could only near you but never lay a hand on you, and that repentance showed in his dark eyes, for the sign in the center of your collarbone shunned him.

Dracula made a show of circling around you like a vulture, much like one would when descending on its dead prey. The thought, that you were his prey, struck you and you shuddered.

You took a deep breath like you were preparing yourself to hold your breath, and to your dismay, you dug your grave deeper as you fell deeper for the man. Even his cologne was to die for, its main accords aromatic, fresh, citrus and something you could not quite put your finger on, but whatever the scent, you suddenly grew hot.

“Take off your necklace.”

Bewildered as to why you stilled. Unsure but keenly interested as to what he had in mind, you did as per request and walked to your bed. You hung it from the knob of your closet and turned back to face him.

You had this wild and utterly insane fantasy of where this would go, but that was fantasy and frankly, fantasy cannot be a reality, certainly not yours. Still, with the thought of him kissing you again, this time on your lips, you did not dare look him in the eye.

The Count’s prying gaze could be felt from his several feet away and you grew anxious, trepidation clear in your feet. When your eyes flickered about, you were surprised to see him suddenly turn his back on you.

Had he grown tired of you already?

“Have you heard what they are saying about the heavens?”

Furrowing your brows, you slowly made your way to the bed, taking a seat and keeping one hand on the footboard.

“What are they saying?” asked you, inquisitive.

He stood by the window, watching the night sky as if he could arbitrate all its mysteries right then and there.

“That we are in a system of thousands and thousands of stars—planets. Gas and dust all make up for the galaxy. There could be planets out there, just like ours.”

Now you wondered if he had drunk a bottle all to himself in secrecy.

You grinned softly, feeling the weariness of the day’s adventures take over you. He gave you a funny look and you shook your head, still smiling and looking at the ground like a fool in love. In a way you were, still, it was odd to think you only had known this man for a single day. It suddenly was very hard to think of a time where he was not there. Gosh! You are a fool falling!

The Count pulled the drapes, shunning out the moonlight as the last source of lighting bar the few candles that did put a soft amber-gold light to your room. You gulped and looked down. It suddenly felt a lot smaller, your room.

“That’s absurd,” annunciated you.

His tongue clicked, and you could hear his smirk.

“No, you’re being bigoted, Y/N.”

“I’m being realistic,” corrected you, finding your small voice.

Next, you knew he stood right before you, his shoes toe-to-toe with your bare feet. The lump in your throat was back.

Surely regrettably you forced yourself to finally lookup. And you guessed it. He gazed right back at you.

He brushed your hair aside, exposing your neck to his touch.

“Heavens, you look seraphic.”

You snorted, suddenly feeling bold. As if you had not heard that before. Sometimes it was difficult telling when his bravado came to a halt, and when it was his actual self began.

“Don’t you mean “delectable”?”

He grinned, and you marveled for a moment at his burst of awe.

Earlier on, you had examined hisself and made certain he brandished no wedding band, lest making yourself uncomfortable when you, later on, would imagine him hovering over you. It was odd to think a man of his nobility was without matrimony, but he had admitted to “waiting for the right one” over dinner. Until he stepped into your room, you had thought you would fantasize about him in your dreams but that seemed unlikely as you could not even look him in the eye without blushing.

“Would you kiss me again?”

Pause.

Then he laughed, wandering a few steps back, only to circle himself, then return to meet your front.

“Would you like me to kiss you, dear?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, suddenly feeling very little before this grand man. While he indeed could appear intimidating, he had this warm aura about him which made you want nothing but to throw yourself at him.

“Is that it? On your hand again?”

You stood up, your chest heaving heavily.

“On my lips.”

The Count smiled bigger, his pearly white teeth on perfect display, catching the glimpse of the light and you suddenly became bothered by the tension. He could not put his hands on you quick enough.

“Please,” pleaded you and he tsked entertained, his hand snaking down your side.

“When you ask like that who would I be to deny the missus?”

He watched with hardly hidden delight as your blood pumped hard in your head. His focus lingered on your lips now. Delicately he pressed his lips down on your, pulling you close as possible with a large hand on the back of your neck.

Then he pulled back. While you attempted your best at maintaining normal breathing, the shock wore off. It was not that it was unexpected, simply that it, in fact, had been a wish you had not imagined he would grant you. His gaze trailed along your neck, the curve of your figure in the corset, how your breasts were pressed tight.

You were close enough to feel the warmth roll off his body, his hair so elegantly pushed back like a dark crown, now a single stray string falling unto his forehead and the air was knocked right out of you again.

Your lip wobbled, unsure of what to say as you breathed heavily, a groan escaping your lips as his idle finger dexterously trailed along with the cut of your throat.

You fell back to sit on the bed again, coy eyes lingering at his. He leaned over you and you eagerly pulled his lips back down on your own, feeling the swell of the covers you were supposed to be sleeping under around you.

The Count sucked on your bottom lip, his teeth lightly chafing your lip and you moaned into his mouth, carefully greeting him with your tongue. He could not help but grow harder, needier of your exquisitely luscious moans.

Encouraging you to lie on your back, he pulled your leg up about him and even through the many layers of your exorbitant dress you could feel his hard against you. It was a feeling you had only ever imagined, one you would never have thought you would feel and with a stranger, not to mention, a count.

You shivered and cried into his mouth, gasping at the feel and he could already smell you. Goodness, it was difficult to control himself in your presence. Not that he was doing much to hold back, but it took everything in him not to taste you right on the spot.

“You’re drunk,” whispered he suddenly.

You looked puzzled up to him, wondering why he had stopped.

He then began to scramble to get off of you and you sat right back up, breathing loudly.

“What? No, sir. If you think of my judgment, I’m more than capable of making my own decisions.”

“Oh, I know you are,” responded he. He simply could not handle it any longer. He feared he might lose control, drain you just then and he would hate to ruin something, someone as precious as yourself. “But I ought to return to my own sleeping chambers now. Your parents are just down the hall, dear.”

He was already making his exit.

“I can be quiet!”

Your voice was desperate for more, and he turned, the slyest of all smiles writing itself across his face.

In two long strides, Dracula stood before you in a split second and you gulped down, for his expression was blank. But as he sighed and took your face in his hands, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

He forced you to look him in the eyes.

“Sleep well, my love.”

And so he left, leaving you with nothing but a lesson on high hopes and wet undergarments.

[penzyroamin]

javid w/ enchanted or long live 🥺🥺🥺

olive... long live is in my top ten songs of all time.

BUT ENCHANTED IS IN MY TOP THREE SO WE’RE GOING WITH THAT!!!

this’ll be up on ao3 in a hot sec but y’all get it first! this is just. sweet first meetings and dumb flirty nonsense

warnings for some mentions of drinking and a mentioned hookup

this night is sparkling-- on ao3

It is the twenty-first birthday of one Katherine Plumber, and as such, half of Manhattan is hammered.

Jack, himself, is lingering in a pleasant tipsy state, just enough to make everyone around him look a little hotter but not enough to make him think he should make a move on any of them.

He is at, possibly, the most spectacular party he's ever seen-- fountains of champagne, fondue, and chocolate, a live band, three different bars, and a massive sculpture of Dolly Parton. All around him are socialites, fancy reporters, and his own brand of hooligan.

Katherine, the woman of the hour, is clearly wasted, licking salt off of Rafaela's wrist and trying to keep her fake eyelashes on.

If he needed, he could easily head out. Nobody would notice him being missing, after all, and he hasn't got much to stay for besides the free drinks and the bass thrumming through the floor.

But he's staying. He's still standing there amidst a mob of gyrating, Jaeger-slamming twenty-somethings, for some reason unknown even to him.

(He's staying for the hot guy by the Dolly statue. For him and him only.)

He maneuvers through the crowd to a table, keeping an eye on Mystery Guy the whole time, and picks up a china plate seemingly encrusted in gold. On it, he loads three cupcakes, a handful of Rich People Potato Chips, and a cookie, then scolds himself momentarily for falling into his pattern.

His pattern being, of course: go to glamorous party, see a gorgeous stranger, stress eat and prove himself entirely unalluring, leave the party alone.

Dodging a drunk political scientist, he succumbs to his fate and unwraps the first cupcake. He looks up and-- his mystery hot guy is gone.

Not his mystery hot guy. He has no claim to him. But Jack's totally stared at him for an hour and a half, he should have dibs.

"Hi."

Jack makes an undignified noise into his cupcake and spins on his heel. Ah. There's his hot guy.

Again, not his.

But he's standing right there, trying to talk to Jack, so maybe he's on to something here.

"Hey," he says, trying to make a plate of cupcakes seem less odd.

His hot guy smiles. "I'm Davey."

"Jack. You Katherine's friend?"

"Yeah, from college. Are you?"

"Yup. Been stuck with her since middle school."

That makes his hot guy-- Davey-- smile wider. He's got a nice smile, with one slightly crooked bottom tooth and sparkly gloss on his lips.

Jack offers up one of his cupcakes, and Davey takes it, removing the bottom half so he can make a cupcake sandwich.

"You're gay, aren't you?" Jack asks, and almost immediately regrets it when Davey quirks up one eyebrow.

"Yes…" 

Jack points at the cupcake sandwich. "That's just. Only the gays are smart enough."

Davey nods slowly, his brows furrowing. Jack is ninety-nine percent sure that this hot guy, who is gay, now thinks hes an awkward frat boy-ish ally.

"I am, too. Gay, that is. Not very smart."

The confusion vanishes from Davey's face, and he laughs. "Okay, then." He finishes off the cupcake and sticks the folded-up wrapper in his back pocket, then holds out a hand. "You wanna dance?"

Jack isn't sure what he does with his plate. It's either shattered somewhere or in the possession of a stoner. All he remembers is nodding and taking Davey's hand.

"I will warn you," Jack says, "I'm not a good dancer. Two left feet, y'know?"

"Better than four left feet," Davey says, and Jack snorts. 

"So at least I'm human, and not a Martian?"

"I feel like Saturn has more of a four feet vibe."

"It's a gas giant, you can't walk on it."

"Well," Davey says solemnly, "that's for the Saturn aliens to figure out." Jack laughs at that, and Davey grins, tugging on his hand. "C'mon."

They dance for fifteen straight songs, long enough that the tipsiness from the beginning of the party has faded away into an entirely different happiness. By song fifteen, they've migrated directly into each other's personal space, and Jack is giddy with all the noise and closeness and every freckle on Davey's face.

Their hands bumping together has turned to Davey's arm around Jack's shoulders, which has turned into the two of them face-to-face, holding each other like it's a slow dance and talking just loud enough so the other can hear them. 

Davey's a constitutional law student, he loves Stevie Nicks, he has a cat and two siblings. He's hilarious, in a dry, begrudging sort of way, and he was apparently notoriously quiet in elementary school.

He has three freckles, right in a cluster, under his right eye. His fingernails are painted gold, and he laughs when Jack says something funny but never when Jack insults himself.

"Don't tell me what to do," the singer onstage cries. "Don't tell me what to say."

Davey's arms are wrapped around Jack's waist, which normally makes him feel claustrophobic and uncomfortable but is ridiculously pleasant right now. Jack's hands are resting on the back of Davey's neck, and everything is just so… nice. 

There's a million people screaming along to the song, everyone but the two of them smells like booze, and Jack is doing all the things that normally make him want to crawl out of his own skin. But it's nice. Better than nice, really, Jack thinks this might be one of the best nights he's had in a while.

Davey's expression turns thoughtful, and Jack tilts his head to the side, making him smile.

"What's the look for?"

Davey sighs softly. "I was just wondering," he says, "if you would be furious at me for kissing you."

That hits Jack like a bolt of lightning, running down his spine until every part of his body feels warm and alive. “Not furious,” he manages, and one of Davey’s hands comes up to cradle the side of his face, his touch breathtakingly delicate. “The opposite, really.”

“Okay,” Davey murmurs. “That’s good.” Jack barely has time to laugh.

Davey leans down a little, and everything slides, ever so slightly, into place. The kiss is all at once gentle and firm, soft in the way Davey’s thumb rests on Jack’s cheek and rough in how he grabs onto Jack’s waist and pulls him closer. Jack clutches at Davey’s shirt and his hair, trying to stay grounded, and groans under his breath when Davey bites on his lip.

There’s a different song playing when they pull away from each other. They’re both breathing heavily, the glitter of Davey’s lip gloss is smeared all around his mouth, and when Jack wipes at his own jaw, his fingers come away glittery, too. He swipes his finger across Davey’s cheekbone, making him laugh. They fall silent for a moment, and Jack thinks.

He isn’t entirely used to this break in his pattern. It’s entirely different from people finding him hilarious when they’re all drunk, him forming a circle of new friends, but then heading home alone. And he isn’t sure what he wants out of tonight, but he knows none of it will happen surrounded by Katherine’s wasted friends and acquaintances. 

Before he manages to lose his nerve, he asks, “Do you wanna head to my place?”

Davey immediately looks relieved. “Oh my god, yes, please.”

They make their way there, the journey broken up by pauses for making out against the bar, in the coatroom, in the back of their taxi, in the elevator up to Jack’s apartment, and outside the door of Jack’s apartment before Jack finally forces the door open and lets them inside.

By then, he's decided exactly what he wants.

When Jack wakes up, Davey is already awake and scrolling on his phone. He turns it off when he sees Jack’s eyes open and smiles at him. “Hey. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Thanks.” He leans forward and kisses Davey, much slower than last night, and Davey runs his thumb over Jack’s lips when they part.

“I actually have to leave,” he says. “I’ve got class at noon.” Jack waves his hand for him to go.

“Go be a lawyer.”

“Mm, law student.”

“Tomato, tomahto.”

Davey kisses him again. “I’ll leave my number on your counter, okay?”

Jack nods, and Davey smiles, getting up to collect his clothes from where they’re strewn across the floor and get dressed. Jack whistles when he bends down to tie his boots, and Davey rolls his eyes, coming back to kiss him nonetheless.

"Parting is such sweet sorrow," Jack says against his lips, and Davey pulls away.

"You know Shakespeare?"

Jack laughs. "Not really. Nerd."

"Shut up." Davey kisses him again.

When he leaves, Jack stays in bed for a while, smiling gleefully, and picks up his phone. He remembers muting it in the taxi, and laughs as his messages pop up.

Charlie: where r u there's cotton candy made of vodka

Charlie: we're putting dibs on sleeping spaces so u better show up or u have to sleep in the garden

Charlie: wheeerrrreee aaaaaarrrrrrreeee yyyyoooooouuuuu

Charlie: LMAOOOO i saw spot's snap ;))))))

Charlie: and on kathys.. he's hot congrats!

Charlie: i'll assume that's where u are. get some bro!!!!!

Charlie: CHECK RAF'S SNAP HAVE U BEEN A SECRET HOE THE WHOLE TIME

Jack raises his eyebrows and goes to see what had happened, a sigh brewing in his chest. 

And.. yes. There it is.

He generally doesn't like having pictures taken of him. It's such a permanent act, something that can be there forever proving everything he thinks about himself correct. An everlasting piece of evidence that he's right. 

But none of that shows here. He doesn't look sad, or tired, or too short, or too big. He looks like he belongs in his skin. He looks like he enjoys his day-to-day. 

Also, Davey looks really into him. Which is implied by his tongue in Jack's mouth, but they look happy. They look like they fit together, like they've known each other for so much longer than that night.

In Katherine's picture, Davey has his fingers curled in Jack's belt loops, pulling him closer. They're smiling against each other's lips.

In Rafaela's, it is... significantly less sweet. Jack's pinned against the wall, Davey's hand is up his shirt, and Jack has to close it quickly before he starts thinking too much.

Okay. Okay, so Jack can never bring Davey out with his friends for fear of torment. Cool.

There's a little warm feeling in his chest, a brand-new rightness, that all of what had happened was how it was supposed to be. The way Davey looks in those pictures, like Jack is exactly what he wants, and the way every quick remark and joke and tease fit together and made sense-- he doesn't think he'll ever stop smiling.

His chest aches for a second. God, he needs Davey to feel the same way. He wants those private, gleeful smiles for himself and himself alone.

Please, God, don't let Davey want someone else.

It's been one night, he reminds himself, roughly fifteen hours. He takes a deep breath, remembers the way Davey's laugh borders on a cackle, and feels the tightness in his shoulders loosen.

He drags himself out of bed to the kitchen, and smiles at the receipt Davey's scribbled his number on. Davey must've brought the newspaper in and put the coffee on, and Jack scans over the entertainment section while he waits for his cup to cool down to drinking temperature.

After a while, the door phone buzzes, and Jack answers, confused. "Hey?"

"Yeah, I got a food delivery for Jack?"

He blinks and buzzes them in. "Uh, yeah, come on up."

It's entirely possible he might be murdered, but he also wants food.

After a minute or so, there's a knock on the door. Jack trades the brown paper bag for a cash tip, and the delivery person nods. "There's a note in there. I ain't gonna read it for you."

"Thanks."

They nod again and leave. Jack shuts the door and sets the bag down on his table, unpacking his bounty: golden waffles, little cups of whipped cream and syrup, and berries. The note is at the bottom of the bag, and Jack laughs in disbelief when he reads it.

Normally I'd make you breakfast. This is hopefully tastier than what I could've done. Text me sometime soon, don't wait three days to seem cool, please. 

"Of the very instant that I saw you, Did my heart fly to your service." -The Tempest

-Davey

Jack is going to marry this guy. He's decided. He's going to marry Davey whatever-his-last-name-is. 

To Charlie: so if a guy orders u breakfast how slutty should the thank u selfie be

She responds immediately, god bless her.

Charlie: babe that's up to the vibe

Charlie: also he sounds so sweet congrats!!! was the night good

To Charlie: very good.

Charlie: if it were ME it would be a titty out kinda look but you're you

To Charlie: thank u xx i will not be taking that advice

It takes him five minutes to get an appropriately goofy selfie without looking like a damn fool, and also still seeming kind of alluring and hot.

He texts with one hand while eating, not wanting the waffle to cool down any more, and debates for a while on the caption before finally going to google.

To Davey: img736.jpg

To Davey: "For where thou art, there is the world itself, And where thou art not, desolation"

To Davey: - Henry VI, i think?

Davey: going into the HISTORIES, I see

Davey: btw you're breathtaking. enjoy your breakfast!

Jack's a wreck for the rest of the day.

[sign-from-god-complex]

Warmth

Summary: Despite the reality of it, the room didn’t feel empty. It felt soft—hazy and warm like a mug of hot chocolate or a sleepy summer morning or like Emile. It felt like the air around them was filled with sunbeams or cotton wool or a slow but sweet grin. It felt like love. And Remy was drowning in it.

Pairing: Remile (with background familial sleepxiety)

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

“One, two, three. One, two, three,” Remy murmured under their breath, hands held out in front of them as they twirled around the room.

It wasn’t graceful—their footwork was sloppy and every so often they’d miss a step before taking a breath and starting again—but they were learning. They couldn’t expect to be perfect immediately! Or at least that’s what Emile would tell them anyway.

The music faded out slowly and Remy dropped their arms, heaving out a sigh. Quickly going to check their phone, which was still plugged in to the speakers, they noted it was only 4:30—plenty of time left to practise before they were expected home.

“Rem?”

“Milly!” Remy yelled, scrambling to pause the music which—as they’d set it to loop—was just beginning to start up again, “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

In response, Emile giggled and Remy tried to ignore how it made their chest feel like it was filled with helium or rays of sunlight or cotton candy fluff.

“I was just about to pick up Pat and Ro from rehearsals!” he replied, pacing his way forward into the room. He glanced around, taking in the mostly empty space filled only with mirrors and the sound of Remy’s heart beating out of their chest, “I heard the sound of Disney and I couldn’t help but come and investigate. Was that Someday My Prince Will Come from Snow White?”

Remy scratched at the back of their neck for a moment.  “A version of, yeah.”

They’d actually searched for ages to find an instrumental recording where it didn’t cut out or slow down too much to get in the way of their practice. In the end, they’d just had Virgil cut it for them in some audio editing software. Thankfully, he agreed to do them a favour without asking what they needed it for; they aren’t entirely sure they could have handled the embarrassment.

“What are you doing in here?”

Emile’s tone was slightly baffled but his expression more curious than anything. Honestly, sometimes he reminded Remy too much of Logan which, if you knew how close the four of them were brought up, wasn’t really very strange at all.

(Of course, that wasn’t taking into account the fact that Logan was entirely spoken for and, regardless, Logan didn’t have that delightful sparkle in his eyes when they walked through the park together, chattering about nothing and everything all at once. He didn’t have that look of absolute wonder when he glanced up at Remy, his lips parted and his eyes wide and just crinkled at the corners like he was barely holding back a laugh.

He doesn’t dance around the kitchen, singing and giggling to music playing from his phone; he doesn’t pull Remy into the pool when they refuse to get in, complaining about their hair getting ruined; he doesn’t make Remy’s stomach flip and their cheeks heat and cause their smooth demeanour to abandon them.

So, maybe Emile wasn’t that much like Logan at all.)

They ducked their head, feeling Emile’s gaze on them as they moved to pick up their jacket from the ground. “Uhh… Practising.”

“Practising?” Emile parroted, grabbing Remy’s water bottle from the floor in front of him before handing it to them—Remy just hoped their face wasn’t as red as it felt, “For what?”

“Prom, actually,” they admitted.

They weren’t entirely sure what expression it was that flit across Emile’s face but it barely lasted a moment before his features were set into a look of mild surprise—fake, Remy suspected; sometimes they wondered if Patton was a bad influence on him.

“Oh! I thought you said you weren’t going to prom.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to but Virgil called me a chicken and basically blackmailed me into it. Babes, I swear, that little shit can be so sneaky when he wants to be.”

“What do you mean?”

Remy sighed, running their hand through their hair and immediately regretting it as they realised they were still slightly sweaty from their dancing. Probably should take a shower when they get home. “Uh, just that he knows there’s someone I wanted to ask.”

“Oh.”

Emile stopped in his tracks, blinking a few times before turning up his smile a few notches too bright. There was no crinkling at the corners of his eyes, no glitter in his gaze and it made something in Remy’s chest tighten.

“I, uh- I just remembered I have to go pick up Pat and Roman! They’re probably waiting for me. I’ll see you at school tomorrow, yeah?”

Remy barely had time to reply in the affirmative before he disappeared around the corner, practically leaving an Emile-shaped dust cloud in his wake.

“Well, that can’t be good,” Remy mumbled before resigning themself to finding their own way home.

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

The next few weeks saw Remy back in the studio, wishing that they had a partner to practise with. They had very briefly considered asking one of the kids to help them out but Patton had no idea how to dance, Roman was far too much drama and Logan almost certainly would refuse to agree—and dancing with their brother was absolutely a last resort.

Thus, here they were again, partnerless and only feeling slightly less ridiculous about it than they had been to begin with.

Pressing play on the recording, the speakers dragged out the opening bars to Once Upon A Dream, maybe not quite as smoothly as if Remy had left the intro in but they didn’t quite have the patience to sit through 8 something bars of useless instrumental.

It had turned out that Virgil had been entirely too aware of why Remy had needed the recording and, when they’d come to him to ask for help again, told them, “if you need any more disgustingly sappy music to pine to then you’re gonna edit it yourself”. As such, maybe the recording wasn’t quite the quality Virgil could have provided but considering it was only to practise anyway, Remy wasn’t actually too worried about it.

They hummed along softly as the music filled the room, their eyes falling closed as they lost themself for a moment—their head only filled with scraps of conversations, half-formed daydreams and the exact colour of the blush on Emile’s cheeks when they’d told him how much the skirt he’d worn today suited him.

“You’ll love me at once, the way you did once, upon a dream,” Remy sang quietly, their voice barely a whisper in the emptiness around them.

It didn’t feel empty, though. It felt soft—hazy and warm like a mug of hot chocolate or a sleepy summer morning or like Emile. It felt like the air around them was filled with sunbeams or cotton wool or a slow but sweet grin. It felt like love. And Remy was drowning in it.

As the song came to a close, Remy’s motions slowed to a stop. For a moment, they just stood there; their eyes closed as they took their time coming back to their surroundings. Once it registered that they’d managed to run through the entire song without screwing up they beamed—breathless and so proud.

It definitely didn’t mean that this journey was over but they were well on their way.

As Remy was preparing to restart the music, they heard a quiet gasp from the doorway—soft and awed and shocked all at once. They spun around, barely catching a glimpse of a skirt whipping out of sight—in fact, the exact same skirt Emile had been wearing earlier that day.

“Emile?” they called out, half-jogging their way over, “Are you there, babes?”

Their heart was bouncing up and down in their chest, hoping—hoping—that Emile would finally provide them with a good chance to ask him out. He’d been suspiciously absent recently, ducking out for homework more often or claiming overtime at work and they were trying really hard not to worry about what that might mean.

Virgil had been entirely unhelpful in this matter. Really, Remy would have thought Virgil could be a little more sympathetic towards potentially unfounded anxieties but he just kept pressuring them to tell him their “feelings” or whatever. It was getting a little bit exhausting.

Unfortunately for Remy, there was no sign of him; the corridor void of any life that wasn’t simply their own echoing breaths. Resigning themself to the belief that they had only seen what they wanted to see—that it was nothing more than one of the younger kids, surprised to find someone in the practise room and running out of sight before the person inside could identify them—they sighed and began to gather up their things. 

They weren’t really in the mood to dance anymore.

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

Things between the two of them had been weird. 

Remy had managed to pinpoint the origin to about a week or so ago, around the time Emile had caught them dancing for the first time. They didn’t want to admit that that was the reason that Emile was avoiding them now, was cutting himself off mid-thought and not smiling that smile that made Remy’s insides light up like a supernova. Because acknowledging that would mean acknowledging other things—acknowledging that maybe Remy was the only one pining, acknowledging that maybe Emile was uncomfortable with their affections, acknowledging that maybe Remy had ruined everything.

And they didn’t think they could do that.

They had skipped practising for the last few days, feeling like it wasn’t really worth it if there was no chance that they’d be able to go to prom anyway. Plus, Virgil’s needling had really started to get on their nerves—always going on about when they were going to finally ask Emile out—so they’d just told him they changed their mind. In response, he’d just sighed, giving Remy a look they didn’t quite understand but they think may have been disappointment. 

They didn’t blame him; they were pretty disappointed in themself as well.

Today, though, they’d come back. They weren’t sure why. Nothing about this day was different than the last ones had been—sympathetic looks from their friends, stilted conversations and awkward silences—but, for some reason, they’d just felt like they’d needed to.

They’d come to really enjoy dancing over the months they’d been doing it and if they couldn’t find a way to express their emotions through that, they weren’t sure they were going to express them at all. And Emile had always told them bottling things up was unhealthy (though, if you asked them, that had always felt slightly hypocritical).

It was unexpected, maybe, but Remy had long since stopped worrying about what was expected of them.

After scrolling through their music library for a moment, Remy pushed play, locking their phone and coming to stand more in the centre of the room. There were a few bars of pure instrumental—they hadn’t ever thought this was a song they’d have to worry about cutting—but after a few moments, the vocals streamed in.

When somebody loved me, everything was beautiful.

Every hour spent together lives within my heart.

And when she was sad, I was there to dry her tears.

And when she was happy, so was I.

When she loved me.

Remy closed their eyes, spinning in place a few times and just letting the music wash over them. Then, they began to move, slowly and fluidly, showing off for themself just a little. They needed to feel like it was worth it—like all those days they’d spent in this very room, letting themself just be vulnerable hadn’t simply gone to waste.

Through the summer and the fall, we had each other, that was all.

Just she and I together, like it was meant to be.

“And when she was lonely, I was there to comfort her,” Remy sang, the words wavering slightly, “And I knew that he lov-”

Voice breaking, they folded over, hands gripping their thighs and just breathing as the music played on in the background. Their eyes were stinging and the crack in their chest only seemed to widen with every word so they moved to turn the music off, taking something of a steadying breath once silence filled the air again.

“This is stupid,” they muttered, rubbing at their eyes to remove any evidence of their breakdown, “What am I doing?”

“I thought it was amazing.”

Remy’s head shot up, staring at Emile in the doorway with a look of mild horror—though, for his part, Emile didn’t seem to notice.

Slowly, he walked up to them, so close that Remy could lean forward and bump into his chest and despite the fact that their brain was telling them to run as far away as possible, they were completely frozen to the spot. And as Emile gave a small smile, Remy wondered vaguely if it was possible to actually die from just being way too gay.

(They then realised if it was possible to die from being too gay Roman would absolutely have gone first, so they were probably safe.)

“May I make a song suggestion?” He asked, voice soft and just brushing up against their skin.

It took a moment too long for them to register that was a question—something Remy would entirely blame on Emile’s proximity and the fact that they were kind of a gay disaster—but they nodded, letting Emile pluck their cellphone right out of their hands.

It only took a moment of searching before music started flooding out of the speakers and it took Remy less time than that, after the music began, to place it. They refused to close their eyes, not when Emile was standing in front of them looking like that—like fond and soft and sweet and like maybe all this worry was for nothing because he looked a little bit like love too.

“All those days, watching from the windows. All those years, outside looking in. All that time, never even knowing just how blind I've been.”

Emile’s voice was soft and rich and warm and Remy couldn’t help but be reminded again of hot chocolates and sleepy summer mornings and the culmination of every conversation the two of them had ever had. His eyes traced their face with each line he sung and Remy was sure it was bright red but they didn’t feel as if they could be blamed at all.

“Now I'm here, blinking in the starlight. Now I'm here, suddenly I see. Standing here, it's, oh, so clear, I'm where I'm meant to be.”

With a grin—and still singing softly into the space between them—Emile took a step back and offered them his hand. There was almost no hesitation in their reply, grabbing his palm and letting him pull them out further into the room and then tighter against his chest.

“And at last, I see the light and it's like the fog has lifted. And at last, I see the light and it's like the sky is new. And it's warm and real and bright and the world has somehow shifted.”

Remy could hear his heartbeat from where they were tucked into his arms but they pulled away slightly—enough to grab his hands and begin to guide them around the room.

“All at once, everything looks different. Now that I see you.”

There was a moment of silence between the pair, blanketed in the music and Remy’s gentle touch keeping them moving across the floor. Emile’s ballroom dancing lessons from years prior seemed to have kicked back in and though he let Remy lead, he certainly wasn’t stepping on anyone’s toes.

He was avoiding their eyes, though. And Remy knew that fear—even if they’d like to pretend that they didn’t—so they took a deep breath. And they sang.

“All those days, chasing down a daydream. All those years, living in a blur. All that time, never truly seeing things the way they were.”

Truly, Remy didn’t know why Emile was so shocked. Yes, they’d never been particularly open with their emotions but they were so gone on him and they had never been good at hiding it. Years and years and years and years, Remy had been pining after him—long before there was even a him to pine over, long before Remy had even known what pining was.

It was always Emile. Always.

“Now he's here, shining in the starlight. Now he's here, suddenly I know. If he's here, it's crystal clear, I'm where I'm meant to go.”

They hadn’t been entirely sure that the change in pronouns would be audible enough over the sound of the speakers but as Remy watched Emile drop his head with a smile, cheeks stained red, they were glad they had taken the chance.

“And at last, I see the light and it's like the fog has lifted. And at last, I see the light and it's like the sky is new. And it's warm and real and bright and the world has somehow shifted.”

Their voices melded together, like a tapestry woven with two different threads—circling around each other and weaving in and out but never straying too far.

It was even better than Remy had imagined it to be. It felt so easy—like they were dancing with a sprite or a fairy, something magical that fit perfectly in time with them, except also knowing it could be no one but Emile. He was in every sense they had, overwhelming them almost but in a way that they’d gladly experience for the rest of their life.

“All at once, everything is different, now that I see you.”

Gradually, Remy slowed them to a stop, migrating their hands down to rest on Emile’s hips and watching him blush.

“Now that I see you.”

And with the end of the song fading out came silence, filling up the air in a much more comfortable manner than they had been afforded the last few weeks. Though there was no longer anything to dance to, neither of them moved—neither of them felt they could move, lest they disrupt this sense of calm that had settled.

In the end, Remy caved first, sighing ever so softly. “We should probably head out, doll.”

Emile ducked his head, chewing at the inside of his lip. Remy didn’t move their hands, not wanting to depart just yet, despite their words.

“I’m sorry,” Emile breathed out, honest and remorseful, “I’ve been really silly these past couple days.”

Remy shrugged. “It’s okay, hon, I-”

“No, it- it’s not,” he interrupted, eyes meeting Remy’s for the first time since the silence had been broken. They were almost teary and Remy just barely resisted the urge to reach up to cradle his face in their hands, wiping away any that manage to leak out. “I’ve been so cold to you and all because I was- was jealous! It’s so stupid!”

“Jealous? Darling, there ain’t nobody to be jealous of.” 

Emile scowled and even though Remy could tell it wasn’t directed at them they still felt their chest ache. “Well, I know that now.”

“And what are you gonna do with that information, huh, babe?”

Remy had entirely meant to add an “s” to the end of babe, they just… hadn’t quite managed to get it out of their mouth. So as it was they just watched as Emile’s eyes widened slightly and his cheeks flushed even more and, Jesus, if Remy didn’t get to kiss him soon they were almost certain they were going to die.

It seemed as if Emile was on the same page because, with nothing more than a gentle head tilt and an answering nod from Remy, he leaned in and up, pressing their lips together.

It wasn’t a long kiss; it wasn’t a deep kiss; it was simple, soft and sweet and it was everything Remy had dreamed of and more. Their hands slid up from Emile’s waist to cup his cheek and rest on his shoulder, guiding him gently and feeling the warmth of his skin beneath their hand. 

They drew away after a few moments but not too far—resting their forehead against Emile’s and unable to take their gaze away from the crinkles around his eyes and the sparkle that was staring straight at them.

“Hey, Remy?” Emile asked, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a grin, “D’you wanna go to prom with me?”

Remy beamed. “Honey, I would love nothing more.”

Taglist: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard @shadowsfromthesun @teadays @sandersships @camcam774 @autism-goblin @deadlyhuggles6 @romanthestarstruckqueer @whispers-stuff-in-your-ear @rainboots-are-for-snobs @sanders-and-sides @spirits-in-my-thoughts @kee-and-co @primaryyblogg @stop-it-anxiety @figurative-falsehood @jadedfantasies231 @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @poisonedapples @sanders-screams @another-sandersidesblog @do-not-just-see-observe @mychemicalpanicattheemo @goodandbadisallmadeupnonsense @localtransgrape @fandomsofrandom @gattonero17 @airiervessel @ollyollyoxinfree 

[argylemnwrites]

Change of Plans - Part 3

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (An It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment universe AU, set nearly 3 years after that epilogue)

Word Count: ~4700

Rating: NC-17 (language, 30 diamond scene)

Summary: Living in NYC in March 2020 is redefining normal for Drake and Riley. Life doesn’t always go according to plan during a pandemic, after all.

Author’s Note: Finally finished up the third and final installment of my AU inside my AU. Sorry the word count got away from me a bit here, but hopefully you all like this conclusion to the journey even further into the real world for these two. (I might have fallen in love with this version more than my planned version... oops)

Just like parts 1 and 2, this does hint at or reference some events from the prologue and the first couple of chapters of Why Are We Still Waiting?, but it does not spoil the core content of the story. And again, Trigger warning for coronavirus discussions. Also, explicit adult content in this part.

Part of Drake couldn’t quite believe that today was actually real. It felt sort of surreal still, even though he had the marriage certificate in his hand and was wearing a ring on his finger. Even though the officiant’s words still ran through his mind, pronouncing them married. It felt too much like a dream. But they were married. She was his wife.

They were in their cab, back to their apartment. Obviously, no reception. No bars or restaurants were even open, except for takeout. But that was alright. Being married to her, that was what mattered. Who really cared if it didn’t happen as they planned?

“So, for our honeymoon, what do you think about Brooklyn?” Riley asked, settling in under the arm he’d thrown across her shoulders after giving the driver their address.

Drake chuckled, “Sounds great. You have a place in mind?”

“Yup! I found this little one bedroom apartment with absolutely no amenities, but it does come with a corgi.”

“Perfect. Hopefully it comes with the opportunity for digital filing of cases, because that’s what I really want to do.”

“But you finished your work for today, right?”

Drake nodded. It had been a pain in the ass, but he’d been able to take care of enough between last night and this morning that he would probably not draw attention to the fact that he’d taken this afternoon off. It had seemed stupid to tell his supervisor his plan when he’d been able to get the work done. The firm might be letting people work from home, but that didn’t change the fact that the leadership on his team was a bunch of frat bro assholes that would have absolutely made him use a half day of vacation.

“Good,” she said, turning her head and leaning over slightly so that her lips were practically on his ear, “I’ve got plans for you.”

Drake swallowed roughly, sparing a quick glance towards the cab driver before turning his head and kissing her. The only thing hotter than the promise her words held was the fact that she was now saying them as his wife.

After a few moments, Drake pulled back, not wanting to make the driver too uncomfortable, but Riley tugged him down again, deepening the kiss slightly. However, after several seconds, a loud buzzing sound interrupted them. Riley leaned back slightly, pulling her phone out of her purse.

“What the hell?” she said as she unlocked her phone. “I have six texts from Maxwell. Wait - seven.”

Drake watched her open up her messaging app, and she let out a big sigh almost instantly. She quickly titled her phone so he could read the screen.

😲😃😭🤗😤��

That’s all my feelings

Because

OMG 

YOU GUYS GOT MARRIED 

YAY!!! 👰🤵🥂

WITHOUT ME

BOO!!!! 😡👎👿

Drake glanced up from her phone, “How does he know?” They had decided it was better to tell Liam and Iris, Hana and Catherine, and Maxwell, Savannah, Bertrand, and the kids at the same time, and since they had plans for a Zoom call this weekend, that had seemed like the perfect opportunity. No hurt feelings at being the last to know, no guilt trips from Maxwell, and no judgement from his sister for eloping. However, Maxwell had apparently found out within 15 minutes of the ceremony.

“I have no idea how he-” Riley started, but stopped abruptly, “Shit. Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“I want to check if Daniel posted our photos to Pictagram.”

“Liu, I don’t have Pictagram.”

“Yes, you do. Maxwell and I set that up for you like a year ago.”

“Yeah… I deleted it as soon as he left town.”

Riley rolled her eyes at him, but closed out her message thread with Maxwell and opened up her Pictagram account. Sure enough @liuthebagelbitch and @dw519 were tagged in numerous photos in Daniel’s account and story. Them signing the paperwork. Sitting on the couch waiting. Holding hands and saying vows. Putting on their rings. Kissing at the end of the ceremony.

“Maxwell must follow Daniel,” Riley said, scrolling through the feed, “Yup, squidwiththemoves has liked every single photo.” She sighed, exiting the app. “And he’s texted me ten more times. We have to call him.”

Drake nodded, but before Riley could even open her contacts list, a Facetime request popped up from Maxwell Beaumont. Letting out one last sigh, Riley swiped to accept the call.

“Hey Maxwell!”

“What the hell? I’ve been working on my speech for your ceremony for years, Riley!”

“Wanna try that again?” Riley asked, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

Maxwell sighed, “I mean, congratulations! I’m so happy you decided to get married without telling me or inviting me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry we didn’t consider you in our wedding,” Drake called out, leaning into the view of the camera and rolling his eyes.

“Drake! How could you do this to me, buddy?”

“Do you really want me to answer that question, buddy?”

Riley elbowed him slightly, probably wanting him to not escalate the situation. Truth be told, Drake was only mildly annoyed at Maxwell making their wedding all about him. The bigger issue was going to be getting Maxwell to keep quiet about it until Sunday. That was basically four full days from now, and Maxwell had barely been able to contain himself back when he found out that he and Riley were involved for half that time. 

“Sorry, Maxwell. But we didn’t want to wait again. Plus, I lost my health insurance, so now I’m able to go on Drake’s.”

“Why didn’t you guys tell me, though?”

“Because we wanted to keep this quiet and not make it everyone else’s business,” Drake grumbled.

“And,” Riley added, shooting him a look before she continued, “we were planning to tell all you guys together on Sunday.”

“I just can’t believe I wasn’t there,” Maxwell said, shaking his head sadly.

“We wish you could have been. We really do. But you understand why that wasn’t an option, right?”

Maxwell nodded. “Yeah, I get it.”

“And do you think you could not mention it to anyone before we see everyone on Sunday?”

There was a long pause following Riley’s question before Maxwell responded, “I promise not to tell anyone else.”

“Maxwell… who have you told already?” Drake asked, the word ‘else’ jumping out in his mind.

“Not that many, people I swear!”

“Well, I just got a ‘congratulations’ text with several question marks from Hana,” said Riley, glancing at the notification that had flashed across the top of her screen.

“I had to find out if you had told her and not me!” Maxwell said, gesturing towards the screen emphatically with his free hand.

“And Iris just asked me if what she’s seeing is real,” Riley continued as another notification popped up.

“I wanted to make sure she wasn’t more looped in that I was!”

“And now Savannah’s asking if I really married her brother today.”

“Wait, why is my sister texting you and not me?” Drake asked as Maxwell continued his defense, saying “I mean, we live under the same roof, so of course I asked her what she knew.”

“Maxwell, is there anyone you didn’t tell?” Riley asked, shaking her head.

“Well, Liam didn’t answer my calls, so he probably doesn’t know.”

“You told Iris!”

“Yeah, okay… fair,” Maxwell trailed off, clearly trying to find someone he hadn’t told. “This really isn’t my fault, though! You posted those pictures!”

“Daniel was our witness and photographer. He’s the one who posted them.”

“Well, then blame him. I just acted the way any normal person in my position would have acted.”

“Wanna try that again?” asked Drake, prompting a chuckle from Riley.

“Fine, I just acted in a way that you guys should have totally predicted. In fact, part of me wonders if you wanted me to find out so that I would tell everyone, and you wouldn’t have to deal with the drama of telling them that you got married without them.”

“Maxwell!”

“Fine, I’ll let you go be nauseating newlyweds. Congrats, you two!” With a little wave, Maxwell ended the call.

“Well, I guess people know,” said Riley after a moment. 

Drake let out a sigh, tipping his head back against the top of the seat.

“You aren’t really upset, are you? I mean, I know we decided to tell everyone at once, but it’s not such a big deal that they know, is it?”

“Nah, it’s just annoying that instead of this just being our thing for now, we’re gonna spend our entire wedding night on the phone with people.”

Riley let out a little burst of laughter at that, so Drake twisted his neck to glance at her. “What?” he asked.

“I think you are severely overestimating how many close friends we have. I bet we can finish this up before we even get back to our place.”

“Really.”

“You take Liam and Iris; I’ll take Hana and Catherine. All our New York friends can wait, don’t you think?”

“What about Savannah?”

Riley paused for just a moment, “We can set up a video call with her and your mother tomorrow.”

“But she lives with Maxwell. She knows that-”

“She owes us our wedding day, Drake.”

Drake nodded. As much as he wished that Riley and his sister got along perfectly, he knew that Riley had a good point there. 

“So, I’m gonna call Hana. If you give Liam a call now, it can just be our time when we get home.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice, so as she tapped Hana in her contact list, he unlocked his phone and scrolled to Liam in his recent contacts. The phone only rang twice before Liam answered.

“Yes, Iris. I see. Please let me actually talk to him, love?” Liam asked, his voice muffled and quiet initially before growing much louder. “Drake, I’m glad you called. You are apparently the source of great excitement here tonight.”

“Yeah… I didn’t mean to be-”

“Well, you are, my friend. Between my three missed calls from Maxwell about, and I quote ‘something that I probably wouldn’t consider an emergency, but he sure did’ and Iris bursting into my office with pictures of Riley and you pulled up on her phone, I’ve not been able to get very far in reviewing my nightly briefings.”

“Sorry about that. But, I… er, do have some news.”

“So I am gathering. It appears congratulations are in order,” Liam said. In the background, Drake heard a quieter “Congrats, you two,” that presumably came from Iris.

“Uhh, yeah. We decided to get married.”

“I’m guessing this was Riley’s idea?”

“What makes you say that?”

“She’s just a touch more prone to impulsive action than you.”

“Well, you’re wrong this time.”

“This was you?” The shock was evident in Liam’s voice, and it did bring a smile to Drake’s face. It wasn’t often that Drake was able to surprise him.

“It was.”

“Congratulations, Drake,” Liam replied after a moment, “I’m truly very happy for both of you.”

“Sorry we didn’t-”

“No. I’m happy for you. I’m not accepting any apologies as there is nothing that happened today for which you should feel even remotely sorry.”

“Thanks, Liam.”

“Can I talk to Riley?”

Drake glanced over at Riley, “She’s on the phone with Hana,” but she held up one finger and then held her free hand open, “but I think she’s about to wrap up and wants to talk to you, too.” Riley nodded in agreement.

“Excellent. And I mean it Drake, I know how much this means to both of you. So, truly, I wish you congratulations and nothing but happiness.”

Feeling a lump in his throat, Drake swallowed roughly. But before he could process the words of his oldest and dearest friend, Riley was snatching his phone out of his hand and passing her phone to him.

Hana and Catherine wished him brief, but heartfelt congratulations, but Riley was still on the phone with Liam after he said goodbye to them. He could only really hear her half of the conversation, and she wasn’t saying much, mainly listening to him apparently. Every so often, she would throw in an “of course” or “you know I will,” but other than a few chuckles, she was largely silent. Every so often, he would catch a word or two from Liam, but their conversation was basically a mystery to him.

It was a little strange, to think about how a couple of years ago, having to sit as an outsider while Liam and Riley shared something private would have filled him with a mix of jealousy and guilt and anger. Now, it was certainly a bit odd that his best friend seemed to have more to say to his… his wife than he did to him, but it wasn’t a bad feeling, necessarily. If anything, he was mostly curious, with just a bit of fear about what tales from their youth and adolescence he could be telling her. Those stories would require more explanations than he wanted to give tonight.

Eventually, the cab stopped in front of their building. As Drake paid their fare, Riley wrapped up the call with Liam.

“Thanks, Liam. We’re actually home now… Yeah, I know… You too. Stay safe, and we’ll talk to you guys in a few days.”

“What was that about?” Drake asked as Riley ducked under his arm as he opened the door to their building.

“Oh, he just had a lot of really mushy things to say about you.”

“I’m serious, Liu.”

“I wasn’t kidding. I think he basically gave me his best man speech just now,” she said with a shrug as she unlocked the door from the mailroom and started up the stairs to the second floor, “He just wanted to make sure I knew how lucky I was, I think.”

“Well, that’s fucking dumb. I’m the lucky one here.”

“This has all the markings of going on for a while. Why don’t we just agree that we’re both mad lucky and call it even?” Riley called over her shoulder as she walked down the hallway and pulled her keys out of her purse.

“Wait! I’m supposed to carry you through, right?” Drake remembered as Riley moved to push open the door.

She let out a little chuckle and rolled her eyes, but stood there expectantly, so Drake stepped up and scooped her into his arms, sliding one hand forward to turn the knob and open their door. Anderson came trotting over, eager to see his two humans, while Drake placed Riley down close to the door, not wanting to track their shoes and jackets too far into the apartment.

“He could probably use a walk,” Drake said, “and we should probably shower after spending hours out in public. How about I take him while you get started since washing your hair is always a… process.”

Riley swatted his chest lightly, but nodded in agreement. “You’ll join me when you get back?”

“Absolutely.”

Anderson took care of his business quickly, so it wasn’t too long before Drake was back in their apartment, hanging his sport coat up next to Riley’s jacket and kicking off his shoes. After washing his hands, he made his way into their bathroom, where the shower was running. The steam was already starting to get thick in the room, and eager to get out of his clothes and to join her, Drake quickly moved to drop his shirt on top of the pile of clothing she’d left next to the sink, but a scrap of tan lace caught his eye.

“I knew you were bluffing!” he called out as he fully removed his shirt and started undoing his belt and jeans.

“Huh?” asked Riley, peeking her head out from behind the shower curtain.

“About not wearing underwear. I knew you were full of shit,” Drake said as he stepped out of his pants and boxers, kicking them on top of the pile before climbing into the tub and under the water, sliding his hands into her long, black hair, somehow even darker now that it was wet, as she placed her chin against his chest and her hands on his hips, turning her face up towards his with a playful little smile.

He dropped his head to hers, pulling her into a passionate kiss, trailing his hands through her hair and down to her back. After a few moments, she tilted her head back. “As much as I like where this is headed, we should actually probably shower and not get too distracted,” she teased, trailing her hands around and squeezing his ass with a wink before she ducked past him and started rinsing out her hair. “Besides,” she added, “our track record for shower sex is not great.”

Drake couldn’t help but laugh as he opened up his bottle of shampoo and started lathering up his hair. Something about the floor of this tub was extra slippery, as they had learned the hard way not long after they moved in and then foolishly required repeat lessons about at numerous times. The worst was the time that he’d needed three stitches behind his ear after colliding with the tap as he fell backward, but the time Riley nearly dislocated her shoulder was a close second. “Yeah, a trip to urgent care would be pretty far from ideal at this point,” he said as he dropped a kiss to her forehead.

And so they both showered, trying to keep any touches light and loving, not wanting things to escalate just yet, but the sight of Riley with water trailing all over her naked curves was obviously turning Drake on. Based on the way she dragged her hand across him as she reached for her body wash, she was feeling the same way. By the time she was rinsing off and stepping out of the shower, Drake was scrambling to finish up, wanting to join her as soon as possible.

When he finally turned off the water and stepped out, there she was, wrapped up in her lime green towel, working a comb through her hair. She smiled at him through the mirror, her skin still looking like it was almost glowing from the warmth and water. As he drew up behind her, he slid his hands around her waist and dropped his lips to her shoulder, prompting Riley to shake her head.

“Drake, at least let me finish working out the tangles,” she said before letting out a little sigh as he worked his way over to the side of her neck, biting down ever so lightly when he reached that spot that always drove her wild.

“Who cares?” Drake mumbled into her skin, working his fingers to gather up the towel and moving one hand to her now-exposed thigh, “You aren’t gonna be seeing anyone anyway.”

Riley shuddered, dropping her comb to the counter before snaking her hand behind his neck as he slid his fingers to her center, his touch still light and teasing. “Maybe I want to look good for my husband,” she sighed out, moving her other hand to the knotted portion of the towel across her chest.

Drake groaned. Was her statement supposed to slow him down? Because hearing the word ‘husband’ coming from her lips? Talking about him? Well, fuck. It turned him on even more. Riley had to know what that sentence would do to him, right? So, he increased the pressure of his fingers, stroking her in the way he knew she loved before sliding a finger inside her. The angle wasn’t perfect, but he could feel her arousal and the fact that she practically growled “Fuck” as she clawed her fingernails into his neck seemed to indicate that she was just as ready to keep going as he was.

After a few moments, Drake stilled his motion when Riley grabbed his wrist. She spun, letting the towel fall to the ground and hopped up onto the small counter. She tugged him between her legs, but Drake shook his head.

“Our bed is just a few feet away,” he protested as Riley wrapped her hand around him, causing him to question why he was trying to change anything going on here.

“But it’s nice and warm in here,” she responded, dropping kisses along his jaw, “and I’ve never been good at waiting, Drake. We can be all tender and gentle later. For now, I just want you to fuck your wife.” She punctuated the last words by biting down lightly on his earlobe. Letting out a groan, he brushed her hand away and lined himself up, sinking into her. He hadn’t wanted their first time as a married couple to feel like some frantic quickie, but it had always been nearly impossible for him to deny her anything. So he started rocking his hips into her, reveling in the feel of her around him. The scrape of her nails along his shoulders. Her breath across his cheek.

As he shifted his stance slightly to fill her an angle he knew would be better for her, he caught a glimpse of their reflection in the mirror. There it was, a gold band on his ring finger, resting along her spine. It was almost hard to look away, so he just kept staring at it, soaking in the sight that proved they were married. It mixed with the feel of her hands digging into his skin and her legs hooked around his back, the sound of her breathy sighs and whispered “fucks,” the taste of her skin of her neck, and the smell of her peach body wash, spurring him on and increasing his pleasure.

Sensing that he was heading towards his peak a little quicker than she was, he tore his left hand off her back, sliding it between their bodies. He glanced down to where they were joined, his thumb circling roughly right above that, his ring pressed against the skin of the thigh he clutched. He slammed his eyes shut and dropped his face into the crook of her neck, not needing any additional stimulation. But soon, he felt Riley’s leg clench around him a little more.

“Are you close?” he murmured into her ear.

“Yes,” she moaned out, arching her back slightly. He wasn’t sure if she was specifically answering his question or not, but her response was enough of an answer regardless. Picking up his pace, Drake stroked his thumb harder. He knew he was seconds away from release when he felt her clench around him. He barely was able to recognize her climax before he shattered, spilling into her as he groaned into her skin.

After a few breathless moments, Drake felt his awareness returning. He slid out of her and shifted up, reaching behind her for a washcloth off the rack, dropping a kiss along her cheek as he stood up fully and helped her off the counter.

He wanted to tell how much he loved her. How much he would always love her. How he would always try to prevent her from ever regretting today. But any words he could think of didn’t feel like they were enough to actually describe his feelings, so he settled for gentle caresses and light kisses as they got cleaned up. Before they moved to go to their bedroom to get dressed, Drake grabbed her wrist and tugged her back to him, kissing her deeply.

“I’ll make us something nice for dinner, Liu. Okay?” he said as he pulled back, running his hand through her wet hair.

She nodded and gave him a bright smile before responding, “And I have an idea for dessert.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, “You have an idea in the kitchen?”

Riley just shook her head. “Yes, you ass. And not only will I not mess it up, but I know you’ll like it.”

Dinner was a quiet affair, Riley having thrown on some acoustic cover songs in the background and lighting a couple of candles they had leftover from their Valentine’s dinner while Drake cooked up a couple of steaks, some roasted potatoes, and some sauteed frozen squash. It wasn’t a perfect meal, but he thought he’d done a decent job finding something special for them out of their stock. He’d been surprised when Riley had set their glasses of whiskey on the coffee table instead of their dining table, but he got it once she’d tucked her legs under herself and curled up against his side on the couch. It was cozy and warm and intimate and felt right for the way they’d gotten married.

After they finished eating, Drake started loading the dishwasher and soaking the pans while Riley dug around in the tall cupboard they used as their pantry and then pulled something out of the fridge.

“You better not be baking something,” Drake told her over his shoulder, “Eggs are too hard to find these days to use them in a kitchen adventure of yours,” chuckling lightly as he felt a towel whip between his shoulder blades.

“If you’re done being a smart ass, I’m ready for you.”

Drake shut off the faucet and turned to face her, a smile slipping onto his face as he took in the graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate bars on the counter.

“I know it’s not exactly a wedding cake, but I figured we could do s’mores over the stove,” she said, settling in next to him.

“It’s perfect, Riley,” he said, slipping his hand into hers as he noticed an apple sitting off to the side, “but why the apple?”

“Oh, well I thought we could still do the apple-cutting,” she said with a little shrug, placing her chin against his shoulder, “I mean, I wasn’t sure if someone else needed to be there for this tradition or not, but I just thought it might be nice.”

Drake squeezed her hand, grabbing a knife out of the block and handing it to her. That she had remembered the one Cordonian wedding tradition he’d mentioned incorporating into their reception and thought to do it today was so perfectly her. Not snarky her, when she was annoyed at others or the world or at him. Not playful her, who would tease and laugh and lighten the room. But thoughtful her, who saw forgotten and neglected and broken people and made sure that at least for a moment, they felt seen and heard.

“So, just carve your initials,” Drake instructed, reluctantly dropping her hand so she could pick up the apple.

“Old or new?”

“What?”

“My old initials or my new initials?”

The weight of the day hit him again. Maybe this wasn’t the wedding they’d planned, but it was still their day. Their commitment. Their promise. And that meant more than having Maxwell as the officiant or getting married where his parents did or hearing toasts from Liam or Hana ever could. Watching the woman he’d loved for years, who he knew he’d love for all the years ahead, carve “RW” into that apple was plenty special.

He knew Riley could read him and his mood. She had always been good at that even before they lived together, so it didn’t surprise him that she kept quiet as he carved his own initials into the apple, then cut out a slice for them to share. She had to know he was dangerously close to being overwhelmed, so she didn’t push, just ate her portion of the apple before taking a step to the side and lighting one of the burners. After spearing a couple of marshmallows onto two forks, she grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the stove with her. They toasted their marshmallows without saying anything and without letting go. They were ready to face the good and the bad, together and united. The world was changing, but their world felt steady and sure.

Permatag: @ravenpuff02 @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5 @speedyoperarascalparty @mfackenthal @lilyofchoices @thequeenofcronuts @jamesashtonisbae

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie

Drake x MC only: @jovialyouthmusic @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @riley--walker @notoriouscs @butindeed @axwalker @drakesensworld  

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment: @wickedgypsymoon @thesumofmychoices @cosigottahavefaith @thequeenchoices @katedrakeohd @feartheendlesssummer @ao719 @ooo-barff-ooo @sunnyxdazed  

Change of Plans: @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @burnsoslow​

[parkeraul]

the sweetest hello, the saddest goodbye | part 2

a/n: tshtsg is back by popular demand because some people wanted a closure and who am i to deny it? i wasn’t expecting so many feedbacks (specially on angst, i really suck at writing angst and this was so??? surprising???) & i’m so grateful for it all, it warms my heart so much. anyways, grab some tissues (extra tissues because i intend to earn more than tears from your eyes only, if u know what i mean) because this is gonna be a rollercoaster and let me know if you like it. by the way, wrap it before u tap it (yea bish u know what i’m talking ‘bout) — do what auntie ann says, not what auntie ann writes.

warnings: angst, drinking, swearing & smut. words: 8k [worth the wait i guess] recommendations: read part 1 to understand better.

Empty. This is how he was feeling. Up at the stage singing to a huge amount of people; alone at home with his thoughts messily written all over the papers — taking over every single hour of his day; among his crew on the backstage; regardless of the situation, he felt unfilled like everything he’s seeing is slowly turning black and white and dull. He noticed that this aching feeling was suffocating him in all the possible ways when he started letting everything pass by. He’s forgotten lyrics during the shows countless times, he’s forgotten to reply the messages popping up on his phone all the time, he’s forgotten even to eat properly sometimes. He’s forgotten himself somewhere lost but, worse than that, he’s forgotten about her. 

But moving on is definitely not the place where he’s at right now. 

He’s forgotten the little details, the ones that are printed on every page of his notebook so he can at least read about it and try to recover any memory, although all of this wasn’t as nearly as satisfying than remembering about those details vividly. Shawn came to the point where just having a slight piece of reminiscence would ease his stinging soul — the way her perfume and the scent of her hair mixed greatly together and used to get stuck on his clothes from the million times they used to hug and stay in there for a while, body—to—body as they appreciated the moment to keep quiet for a while, just enjoying the feeling of having their frames pressed against each other with a couple of caresses coming across his muscular back or a gentle head-rub right above the nape of her neck. The taste on her lips, incomparable and so captivating that he could keep his mouth on her for an eternity and write innumerable songs about it — every now and then he just rests his head against the closest surface and closes his eyes, searching for one of the times he had her splayed on his bed all to him, waiting for his red lips to love her body in that tempting way that only Shawn can because he takes his time to cover every inch with his mouth and hands over and over again until he earns desperation from her, an unstoppable desire to unravel underneath his body at the point she can’t control her shaking limbs. Her smile, her eyes, her sweet laugh and calming voice were all gone, replaced by the image of the tears streaming down her face when she last looked at him to walk away without promising to come back before he went insane. Insane might be right word to describe the state of his mind, he swears he’s nearly going crazy because it seems like it doesn’t matter what he tries to do, nothing’s going to complete him so perfectly like she does. Nothing.

The pub is loud and filled to the rafters, the strong beat of the music reverberating through the walls and the floor underneath his body that doesn’t sync with the rhythm. Everything’s slower, everything’s cloudy and meaningless but something made him think that a glass or two of whiskey would probably get him into it, consequently avoiding the annoying commentaries coming from his friends questioning ‘are you good?’ or ‘what’s gotten into you?’ and ‘are you still thinking about that?’.

Even if things aren’t the way he’d usually like — who is Shawn Mendes to negate a good party? — He’s trying his best to let this atmosphere hit him. Gradually, the song sounds nice, a drink leads to another and he tries to connect with the people around him dancing to the beat like the music has thrown a spell and everyone’s progressively giving in as he makes an effort to follow, eventually singing the songs he knows and loosening the tension on his body. Shawn feels comfortable to look people in the eyes, nodding towards the ones who knows him and smiling to the ones he’s recognizing from afar as he swallows his drink down his throat, not minding the burning sensation anymore. “’M gonna get another one. D’you want something?” He says closer to Brian’s ear, pulling out his wallet from his pocket. “Yep. Want you to slow down,” The redhead answers, handing him fifty bucks. “And some tequila shots, if you may.” Shawn laughs thinly, getting the money and pulling away from his friend to hide the money inside his wallet and fix his hair back, undoing a couple of buttons of his dark shirt. Finally that unavoidable effect of the alcohol. The hotness grazing his skin and turning it rosy, only able to be seen when perkier lights illuminated his frame in the middle of so many purple and red setlights shining through the crowd. He ignores what his best friend just said — it makes no sense to ask him to slow down and be funnier at the same time, he can’t perform both all at once — and makes his way to the bar with difficulty due to the many people blocking the way and the place going very brightened and then totally dark in a matter of seconds, increasing not only his confusion but also the dizziness upon his head. The journey to get their drinks is filled with hundreds of excuse me’s and mild touches, silently warning the people that he needs to move forwards and they’re on his way. Still tipsy, he manages to act kindly meanwhile his body submits to the laziness of his movements and leaves the sober-state behind somewhere among the public, approaching a chair in front of the counter step by step where he can sit down to wait for the drinks. “A glass of bourbon and... How many shots can you fit into fifty bucks?” He shouts to the barman, quickly pulling out his credit card. “Three shots, buddy.” The guy responds, typing on his screen to register the order. “Add eight more, please,” He could use some of these shots later, he thinks. “Credit card.” Shawn’s toying with the card, tapping it against the marble while the man before him is still giving away his request and setting the little machine in front of him. It’s all very fast and he doesn’t even listen to the barman after he removed his card and got his note. “What’s your table?” “Table 88,” He blinks rapidly, processing the things happening around him. “Thanks, man.”

It lasts almost three songs until he’s done with the glass he took five minutes after he ordered it, having the drink still at the bar and seeing the shots going to where Brian is standing along with the other guys. It’s almost inevitable to end up reserving himself at some point of the day, his brain asking for some time alone so he could think things again and progress from this looping of reliving his heartbreak that wouldn’t go away so soon. He wanted so bad to let her know that he’s entirely over that person from the damn song everyone’s made sure to remember him about in every interview, remember him how careless he was with the one person that actually matters the most to him. “Such a dick.” He thinks to himself and it happens literally everytime he’s on his own re-experiencing those bitter memories, it’s instant: a bad moment leads to a prompt chastise because he’s never going to forgive him for letting her escape through the spaces of his fingers for the exact reason that he had her on his hands, that’s something that she even dared to say sometimes shyly with her face hidden on his chest and he could never help but roll her over and kiss her face repeatedly, so happy to have someone who wore the feelings on the sleeve just like he does. They do fit together, but there was this huge pile of unsolved things standing in between and it was no one else’s job to disentangle the remained knots than his. It was so innocently unconscious of Shawn to keep going on like he was wholly recovered from that previous relationship and he caught himself laughing at his own actions after realizing how dumb he was, how stupid. He got way too blinded by that hurried wish of belonging to the girl who had to move past his hotel room door and ended up carried away to the middle of nowhere, having his frustration and guilt as company.

Some curious eyes were watching him and he decided to watch back, finding distraction on a few smirks towards him and all the bodies swaying from side to side addicted to the sound and some others were staring at him with their silhouettes standing still, a single pair studying his frame from afar and getting covered by the people coming across.

“We have the fate by our side, remember?”

A voice pops up on his head, his ears focusing on nothing more than this tone banging violently inside his brain as he props himself to stand on his feet, leaving the heavy glass aside on the counter. His vision is too blurry to process what is he exactly seeing and his head is also whirling, not helping him for a bit even though he’s blinking rapidly to brush it off somehow. A hand comes up to wipe the liquid standing on the edges of his lips, instantly flying to his shirt so he can fix the way he’s looking and give his chest a glimpse of fresh air to cool the boiling sensation of the alcohol. He tilts his head up, standing on his tiptoes and he goes from side to side in order to clear the view.

“If it’s supposed to happen, we’ll find a way.”

Shawn feels his knees failing and his throat drying, breathing heavier through his mouth, lips parted and he scrunches his eyebrows, wondering if he’s seeing things or if someone put an extra on his whiskey — and concluding that he actually just drank way too much but that answer doesn’t make the shape of her disappear. He’s not daydreaming, he’s not hallucinating.

“You gotta let me go, sweetheart.”

And just like this, her eyes leave his and she trails her way through the crowd, making it hard for him to follow her with his sight so he immediately moves. It obviously wouldn’t be easy. The excuse me’s are being said all over again, his soberness showing up for a moment now that he’s decided to go after what’s been driving him insane over the past months and ask for a chance to simply apologise if she’s not into hearing all the stuff he had put into new unreleased songs, saying goodbye to the rest of sanity that he had left. Through selfie requests and people pinned down on their spots, he rushes his steps and he’s not going to waste any more time on asking ‘please, can I pass?’ and mumbling thank you’s — it’s unmanageable but he literally acts like there’s no one else inside that pub than him and her, who’s reaching the stairs and climbing them rapidly. Shawn would buy her game with no complains, he’s a fool for this type of love-story and it’d be a wonderful situation to turn into poetry if he hadn’t so many people blocking the two meters separating him from the first degree.

 Among twisted lines trailed by his feet and eyes peeking out every corner, he crosses the hall above the stairs after going up. There are couples making out, one or two people smoking and empty glasses leading to a semi-opened door at the very end of the corridor. He’s glad everyone else is probably drunker than he is, so he looks back when he arrives the door to rotate the yellow sign hanging on the door — hiding the indication of ‘Rooftop’ to show the ‘Interdicted’ behind it, soon stepping out of the dark place.

 The roof is illuminated by the moonlight and occupied by some chairs and small couches distributed along the big space, the wind blowing colder as the sky could barely get dark by the moon so bright up in there among the stars and thin clouds. The lights of the apartments shutting down here and there, but not weakening the beautiful sight standing in front of that unique silhouette. Her hair is being blown lightly and so is the big coat covering her entire back until the beginning of her thighs and he has to stop himself from running directly at her; from approaching her body in the neediest embrace that he knows he’s capable of. “You know that hide-and-seek was my least favourite game when I was little?” He chuckles softly. As per usual, his unmistakable voice gets her vulnerable. His sweet tone, always floating between low and raspy to harmonious and joyful seemed to entice her and there was no turning back. Not that she wasn’t expecting him to follow and find her, but she needed at least two good minutes to settle down and think about what to say because it was certain that Shawn would hit her with questions and thoughts of his. She turns around; too shy to face him after what happened a month ago so she keeps on looking at her own feet, smiling to the ground and supporting both elbows on the balcony meanwhile he closes the door behind him. His nervousness starts to show up and it makes him smile too as he undoes the buttons of his dress shirt to roll up the sleeves, revealing his tattooed arm and letting the air cool the parts of his body. “Don’t you have a tour to take care of?” Still staring down, she asks and she doesn’t mean to sound rude. For someone who barely has time to hang out, it’s a surprise to see him outside the studios and backstage. “I didn’t expect to see you here too,” Shawn jokes, knowing that this is what she actually meant. He hides his hands on the pockets of his pants and walks slowly towards her, not wanting to get near enough to scare her away — but dying to get near enough to watch the moonlight lightning up her face. “I have a few days off, just needed to distract myself… Get some air, do different things, you know?” Stopping two or three steps away from her, he keeps on waiting for her to look at him since that’s what he’s been craving for several days. “Yeah,” She mumbles, breathing deeply before tilting her head up and seeing that he’s closer than she thought he was — the signature chocolate-fallen-curl contrasting with the colour of his skin and matching his eyes at the same time, so locked on the shapes of her face like he had found her for the first time. “How’s everything?” “How’s everything?” He questions back, voice squeaking a little and he giggles. Like it isn’t obvious. “Everything’s been terribly awful,” This time, his intonation falls an octave and his stride comes forward a little bit more and he surprisingly doesn’t stagger, gulping before moving on now that her eyes just founded his. “Everything’s been dreary ever since you left,” The wind hit them harder and, when she closes her eyes to avoid it, Shawn sees a teardrop moistening her eyelashes and her bottom lip being hidden by her teeth sinking down on the plump skin so fiercely. “You feel the same, don’t ya?” How can see right through her like this? It’s so unfair, she thinks, and so dumb of her to show such weakness this immediate. She opens her eyes and blinks quickly to dissipate the tears, sniffing faintly and holding her own arms to warm her body somehow, also to comfort her own shaky limbs instead of giving in and throwing herself at his strong arms. “I know you do,” He emphasizes and he’s 100% sure that he’s right. They’ve never broken this connection between them. Call him crazy, but he could swear that her heart is beating as heavily as his even when she was far away from him during this whole time — their respiration have the same hurried pace, both their minds work together like they depend on each other and it’s undeniable that their chest flutter with the same feeling. “Listen,” He starts, pausing to lick his lips and close all the space between them, the tips of their feet nudging as he holds his hands together to stop the urge of caressing her arms and pulling her to himself. “There’s so much I wanna tell you. Would it be okay if we talk?” She takes in the way he’s looking concerned at her, internally hoping he hadn’t asked for too much. “Sure,” She says and he looks around to find which one of the seats is the most comfortable. “But not here, ‘s way too cold.” Ending with a soft smile, she suggests and Shawn literally melts inside when seeing a happy expression of hers, even if it’s not fully sincere.

This sparkled something in Shawn, he wants to see more of that and he wants to be the reason behind her happiness. During the time they were walking past the stairs and the dancing bodies to reach the exit door, he begun to list all the important things he’d been thinking about to show her how sorry he feels for making her feel like a backup, for making her wait, for hurting her feelings and for not being the perfect guy for the perfect girl that she is. He doesn’t know how he managed to focus on her sat down beside him on the passenger seat and on this list at one go, but it worked for the time they were inside his Jeep driving to the apartment he got in Toronto with the radio turned on — so when there wasn’t a red light for him to stop and glance at her through the corner of his eye, he could rely on her tone singing the songs along in a timid volume. Shockingly, there wasn’t a tension. The anxiousness was certain, but the fact that they wanted and needed this moment got higher than any other type of intimidating emotions. It felt so good to be together again, even if it’s only physically speaking — they don’t know where this is going, there might be no reconciliation but being close feels right, feels like home.

At the elevator, he leaned against the cold wall and she turned to the mirror to fix all the imperfections (perfections, to Shawn) as his eyes burned all of her in a compelled stare. She’s too beautiful to be true according to his conclusions, too precious not to be held the entire time and too sweet to waste her time with someone who can’t treat her right. They kept on stealing glances here and there, earning smiles and sighs from each other like when she stepped inside the elevator on his building at their first date — when he took her to see the Christmas lights after dinner, and he’d tour the entire Canada with her if she asked to. He remembers being now exactly the way he was back at this day: heart beating faster, eyes glued on every action of hers with his brain electing all the emotions he needed to let her know.

The apartment is as cozy as she remembered. The couch is white, the view is still very beautiful and the living room is slightly disorganized. On the center table there’s a few pages sharing the space with a pick, a pen, a half-empty bottle of water and a mug. The window is open, curtains swaying as the wind invades the room and gives both of them chills. “Get yourself comfortable,” Shawn says, shutting the door close and locking it just in case someone decides to leave the pub sooner. She takes off her shoes to leave next to the door and walks bashfully; feeling the softness of the mat sprawled in the middle of the room under the wooden table as she sits down on the couch. He drops his keys on the counter of the kitchen and follows her with his eyes. “God, I’m sorry! What a fuckin’ mess—“ “We’re not here to talk about the mess,” She cuts him off, getting up to reach and grab him by the arm to join her. “We’re here to talk about something else, aren’t we?” “Of course, of course,” Being dragged by the arm, he lets her pull him and he tugs at his curls before holding her hand more forcefully, impeding her to sit down again. “You look pretty in this dress.” He smirks but not dirtily — on the contrary — it’s a grin filled with the purest joy. “Yeah?” Asking, she keeps standing on her feet and spins around with the help of his arm raising to whirl her by the hand. “This guy gave it to me on my birthday. Pretty cool, right?” “Awesome!” He chuckles, holding and caressing her hand while he dares to get nearer. “He’s got taste, eh?” “He wore Saint Laurent to the Met Gala so, yeah, he’s got a whole lot of taste.” They laugh simultaneously, allowing themselves to ignore the seriousness of this meeting for a moment. As they’re both people who hate confrontation, that feels like a good start before discussing things over. “Can I hug you?” With puppy eyes, Shawn asks her impulsively and she feels completely unable to say no. Tiptoeing to hold him by the shoulders, she snuggles in and he embraces her middle leisurely from the very edge of his fingertips to his palm, ending up trapping her with his thick arms. They both close their eyes and their breathing get calm. Their hearts, on the other hand, are beating insanely and banging each other’s bodies, their upper halfs pulsating from finally getting back to where they belong. “I missed you so much.” That’s all it takes for her to start crying. “Missed you too.” She murmurs, clutching at his body harder and the tears are wetting her cheeks. Shawn feels a huge knot forming on his throat, begging to be released in a cry and, holding her tighter, he lets it out. He can’t disguise if it’s from having her there against him, or if it’s the fear consuming him and reminding the possibility that she wants to go on without him, if it’s both, if it’s none of these things… It’s all very blurry but this torture has to end, and it has to be now before he goes madly insane. “C’mere,” He says, letting go of her partly to sit down and drop his hands: one to hold hers and the other one to wipe away his and her tears. “I… Well, first I want to apologise. I’ve been nowhere close to what you deserve, I was an asshole and—“ Shawn uses the hand that’s not holding hers to rub his face, covering his mouth at the end of it so his following words start to come out muffled but audible enough for her to listen. “And I know that nothing in this world can fix what I did to you. God, and I’ve tried — I’ve tried to fool myself and accept that this would never happen again but not for a single moment I found myself able to get you out of my head,” His hazel eyes are deeply connected with hers, occasionally dropping to see her lips parting and her eyebrows frowning in the pain they’re sharing of struggling so much to find a way to give this relationship the decision it needs. “What is this that you’re doing to me?” Questioning kind of angrily, Shawn seems to get more and more lost. He’ll never figure out exactly what gets him on his knees for her, it’s every little thing about the girl in front of him.  “I can’t get you out of my mind. When I’m sleeping, when I’m singing, when I’m writing… You’re there all the fuckin’ time. I can’t… I can’t do something that’s not related to you anymore and you can totally tell me to shut the fuck up right now before I do something stupid, but I love you. I… Holy shit I love you so much it hurts,” He leans closer, moving a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear and touch their noses and foreheads together. “And I’m not sorry for this.” It’s too late for her to notice his lips coming because it happens suddenly. About two seconds ago he was standing distant and now their lips are pressed against each other as both his hands hold her face with an urgent need. She lifts her eyebrows in surprise but doesn’t back off — instead, she brings her hands to hold his arms and feels his entire body trembling, holding back the cry with all his strength. Nothing else seems to matter now. They’re finally fading into the touch they’ve been missing so much and it feels so right and so wrong at the same time. He reschedules the thought of deepening the kiss for some other time, pecking her lips repeatedly and slowly at the same time, enjoying the tender graze of their mouths brushing together. “No one wants this more than I do, trust me,” She mumbles, sighing soon after. “But how am I—“ “There’s nobody else,” Shawn interrupts, knowing that he failed her trust. “It’s you. It’s only you.” “Shawn,” Nodding in denial, she tries to move away but his hold won’t let her. He doesn’t mean to come off impolite, but it’s practically unconscious. “It’s easy to say.” “Then tell me what do I do,” He looks her deep in the eyes, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. “Tell me what I can do to make you mine for a lifetime.” His words are a trap, cornering her and making it hard to avoid her most sincere desires. Her mind can’t form an instant choice and the only thing she knows is that she’s dying to say yes, as many times as needed. Too bad it isn’t simple like this, there’s so much to heal and yet a big lack of patience. “Just say the words, babe,” He sinks his fingers into her hair, tugging at it lightly to tilt her head back so he can have her mouth at his mercy right in front of his. “I’ll do anything if it means I’m never going to see you leaving me again.” He whispers, at the merge of sobbing as he feels his head starting to ache from the whiskey and the crying. All that he wants now is her. She’s the only one that can ease all the agony that’s taking over him. “Jeez!” She hisses, defeated and weak for him. “Shawn, I—“ “Stop me if you don’t want this,” He understands how difficult it is for her to put into words by the way she’s having issues to breathe properly. “But I need you so bad, babe, so bad,” Mouthing at her lips, he loosens the grip on her hair so she can relax and lean against him. “Let me show you how much I love you, how sorry I am…” And like this he descends to the curve of her shoulder, planting wet kisses up to her neck — taking from the base to the skin under her ear with all the passion he’s got. “Let me make you mine again.” She doesn’t wait when he reaches her jaw to move his mouth to the corner of hers, capturing his lips in a deep kiss filled with all the emotions burning inside their bodies. He holds the nape of her neck and her waist with strong hands, pulling her to himself as he breathes harshly, searching for all the air he can get to keep kissing her with all that he’s got. Shawn slips his tongue past her lips and she reciprocates, letting their kiss mix together at the point where she moves forward to straddle his lap and, before his back can hit the couch, he’s grabbing her by the back of her thighs and rushing to his room.

He doesn’t care to turn on the lights, taking advantage on the moonlight breaking through the window to see the bed where he puts her body down on gently to promptly get rid of his dress shirt without undoing the buttons — he holds onto the fabric and simply stretch the edges apart and pull it out from his jeans, throwing the now-ruined cloth away and kicking off his boots and socks. She’s still shifting her frame on his bed but he doesn’t waste time on lying above her after she takes off her coat to leave it aside, traveling his tattooed hand through the side of her silhouette covered by the black velvet dress separating the warmness of her skin from his graze while he finds her lips again. They’re devouring each other’s mouth, letting loud smacks fly throughout the room and she starts to grab his arms for dear life, encouraging to push his instincts farther, profounder on her, not stopping for a second to care about bruises and hickeys — it’s distractingly intense, dripping lust and an unstoppable compulsion to kill this distance with the love that runs through their veins; spreading an enormous heat all over their skin. Shawn traces her clavicle and presses his fingers down as they move to the thin strap of her dress, going under the piece of cloth and hauling it down her arm and immediately doing the same with the remaining strap. She’s tugging at his thick curls ferociously and he bites her bottom lip, pulling it to himself and watch it spring back in place when he releases it. They’re frantically inhaling and exhaling noisily, her arms coming back down just for him to expose the skin of her stomach and chest and flying back to where they belong: him. She’s squeezing the muscles of his shoulder as he goes down to attack her neck with hot and needy kisses, the curls of his hair tickling her chin and soon moving away with his head going down so he can mark her skin with suctions and love-bites, embellishing all the way from her throat to her collarbones with red stains turning into purple already and she can’t help but squirm everytime his teeth graze her icy body, getting lost in the way he’s consuming her entire being like it’s the last time he’s ever going to cover her middle with his skilled mouth. “Fuckin’ missed this,” Shawn mutters between smooches and bites, his hand everywhere all at once while her back starts lifting off the mattress as she shivers. “Fuckin’ missed your body all to myself,” With the black velvet on his hands, he keeps on loving every inch he started revealing while her tight dress was being removed, pulled down to her hipbones and then legs, soon joining his long-gone dress shirt on the floor. “Fuckin’ missed you, babe,” Hovering over her again after throwing her cloth away, he whispers close to her mouth and clings their frames against each other gently, not wanting to smash her with his front. It’s electrifying the touch happening in this moment, their touches stringing and giving them all the answers they’ve been searching for: this is where they’re meant to be, this is the right thing to do. “I love you.” “I love you more,” She whispers back, wasting no time on replying him and venting her aching heart out shamelessly. “Been missing you so much…” And she has no more space to speak. He smiles widely and brings his lips back to hers, overwhelming her whole body with a heated kiss. The pressure between their lips is perfectly added as they lock and unlock their mouths with more patience, tasting each other’s tongues lazily like there’s no tomorrow — and even if it has, Shawn doesn’t wanna leave this moment; he wants to stay in this bed and make love to her until the sunrise so he’s going to have an eternity fitted in these hours to make her moan and tremble underneath him as many times as he wants to, definitely keeping this night eternized somewhere inside his heart and soul, materializing this eternity. She needs more of this, so she threatens to inch closer and stand on her elbows but Shawn is quicker to press his palm down on her middle and pin her on the bed. They’re both breathing deeply into the kiss and he lowers to trail a long stripe with loud kisses from her cheeks — loving one side with his lips and grazing the other side with the back of his fingers;  to her jawline — tickling the skin above it with his teeth, unable to hold a smile from this joy of being with her again; neck — switching between kisses, licks and suctions, leaving a curved line of hickeys drawing her sweetest spots; chest — pecking the expansion without leaving a single space behind as he drives his hand to her back, unclasping her bra and tossing it somewhere away so he can capture one of her nipples with his lips, fondling the other one with his index and middle finger while the other ones work along with his palm to massage her breast; stomach — applying a heavier pressure on his kisses in order not to tickle her and keep on taking away those low whimpers she’s giving to him, her skin showing goosebumps under his touch as he gives all the inches the love they deserve, the love they’ve been craving with his eyes fluttered closed, mind deeply concentrated; hipbones — feeling the curve of them against his swollen and wet lips and catching her underwear in between his teeth to pull it away from her just to release and let it softly slap her body, opening his eyes only to look at her utterly fucked and having issues to maintain her breathing patterned; thighs — covering the smooth skin with his mouth like he’s french-kissing like they’re her lips, heating the inner parts with his touch and not breaking eye-contact with her this time, his curls starting to fall down and eyes attentive on her; and her covered heat. She’s helplessly dripping wet and groaning, barely keeping her body in place from this torture. Bucking her hips forward, she meets his tongue coming up her pussy and a loud moan escapes her parted lips, her hands flying to his curls and grabbing the locks and punishing them between her fingers. Shawn embraces her thighs while watching her becoming a mess, grasping the sheets and looking back at him with desperation, needing him to do something, anything. It’s a wild dream that he doesn’t wanna wake up from. Holding her legs forcefully, he stops her from squirming too much after taking off her soaked panties. She quivers a little, feeling the colder air blowing her dripping core before he covers it with his tender tongue, licking boldly from her entrance to her clit repetitively — yet slowly — and attaching his lips around her bundle of nerves to suck on it, pulling to his mouth the taste of her that he’s been starving for ever since he realized the hurried urge to consume her body blooming inside his mind. She’s letting out broken sobs, nearly suffering from how delightful it feels to have her throbbing clit being caressed by his soft lips and wet tongue, making her go even wetter if that’s possible. Tilting her head, she sees the curve of his upper lip molding perfectly the beginning of her lower lips and her heart starts to miss the beats, she’s not sure she can take this amount of pleasure but surely wants to keep going at the moment he digs his short nails into her thighs and eats her out mightily. Shawn tugs the skin of her sensitive clit between his red lips and licks it devotedly to suck it more roughly, making her eyes roll to the back of her head as she gives up on the bed to finally let her body feel the moment relaxed against the mattress, the tingling sensation down on her entrance and knot on her lower stomach growing more and more messing with her senses. The noises coming from his actions are driving her insane, crying out his name like it’s the only thing she knows and God knows how much this is making his member get close to explode inside those tight jeans, also warming his chest and spurring his heart to beat agonizingly fast in happiness, love, relief and the other countless emotions that he’s not decently conscious to name. “Shawn, I need you,” She manages to say among the growls. “I can’t take it anymore, please.” Honestly, neither can Shawn. It’s speedy the way he gets up to unbutton his black jeans and pull it down with his underwear, his cock springing up and bouncing after leaving the constricted fabrics and she’s ready to get up and knee in front of him but when she sees, he’s already above her and grabbing her wrists together upon her head. “I just gotta feel you,” Sticking their foreheads together — with that obstinate s-shaped-curl between them — he lies down on her silhouette slightly to feel her temperature mixing with his. “Is that okay?” “Yes,” She pants close to his mouth. “Just please, babe…” He lines himself up, brushing his angry tip against her clit and entrance and moistening her with pre-cum, both their parts craving that first thrust going deep inside of her as he bottoms out almost immediately. It’s hard to suppress a moan so he lowers a little bit more, supporting himself on one arm besides her as the other one goes under the nape of her neck to grab at the hair upon it, lightly scratching when his fingers curls inside to hold her strands and tilting it back to expose more of her skin for him to descend and suckle that region under her ear with a fiery desire. “Love you,” She murmurs, scarcely noticeable and holding his face and moving it towards hers while she says it. “Not more than I love you,” He replies instantly and brushes their noses together before stealing a frantic kiss.

Now it’s all slow.

He pushes his hardened member back and forth deliberately, making her feel all his length millimeter by millimeter meanwhile they’re kissing unhurriedly. She moves her hands to his shoulders, taking a good handful of them whenever he buries himself inside of her completely and then traveling to his muscular back, scraping at it and leaving red lines along the expansion of his prominent muscles, bringing his body impossibly closer. When Shawn breaks the kiss is just to sink his cock strongly, in a deafening roll of his skin slapping hers, to groan stridently as he contorts his face in pleasure. The air seems to leave her lungs when he tries it again, doing it even deeper and tougher practically knocking the sanity out of her when he hits her spot with this much force. Her mouth falls in agape, eyebrows frowning and he looks at her doing the same expression, driving into her more and more aggressively, their bodies smacking and filling the room with that incomparable sound. At the same time it’s raw and rough it’s unbelievably delicious — every thrust of his sliding easily in and out and although it’s steady, it has a raced pace: he goes all the way in very fast and powerfully to let her tight walls hold his cock closely at the point it makes him go lightheaded, veins in his arms darting out and his hairline is getting wet but not for a split second he thinks about stopping. He only wants more: more of her back arching, more of her legs shaking uncontrollably, more of her nails digging into his back, more of her mewls and eyes rolling profoundly… “More,” Shawn hears her begging, promptly relying on that hand that was on her hair to use his right arm to grab her leg and bend it up, giving her a new angle. “Give it to me,” He’s rumbling and pushing ferociously, the hazel eyes never leaving hers as he hits her in every thinkable way. She starts to squeeze his dick harder and he starts to twitch, grazing her g-spot even more lusciously and he can feel his orgasm at the merge of washing him off. It’s so hard to hold himself when he’s gliding so easily, so deliciously that it makes both their heads spin while everything around them seems to fade away. There’s nothing else than their sex overriding them, there’s nothing else than their moans entwined in the most beautiful symphony and their highs exploding inside their bodies. She feels her entrance pulsating and he’s already low-growling with his raspy tone into her divided lips, filling her with hot ribbons that are fading into her orgasm following not long after and he collapses onto her frame, trembling and holding her as they try to recover their respiration. “Fuck,” He whispers, thrusting very slowly still. They’re wasted but he doesn’t want it to end, doing his best to respect her sensitiveness and suggest a round two at the same time, typical boyish grin highlighting his small scar. “Please, never leave this bed.” “Will not,” She answers, eyes fluttered close as she palms his flushed chest.

 When the sunrise breaks into his bedroom with no further warnings, he feels the bright light trying to invade his eyelids and turns around to face the other side of the bed. He lazily stretches his arm to touch a body that’s not there. This is what spurs him to open his eyes. Eyelids lightly squinted, he eyes around the bedroom to find the floor clear like not even he stepped inside this place for the last 12 hours. The space beside him on the bed is perfectly made, the pillow is fluffed and free of any signs that someone had rested on there for the last night until now and he still has his dress shirt on with his black Calvins and only one sock on his foot. “What the fuck?” He mumbles, sitting and rubbing his face. This doesn’t make sense, there’s no way. How the hell she could’ve managed to sneak out without leaving a trail behind it’s a question that has no coherent answers. And it’s so not her type to go out and dress him instead of stealing his shirt to keep it to herself. Shawn tosses the blanket away and gets up to knock on the bathroom door and get no responses, flicking the doorknob open and finding the place just the way he left last night: his cologne is on top of the sink, his toothbrush in the right spot and the towels are correctly arranged just like the mat. He enjoys the moment to splash some cold water on his face and brush his teeth, looking at his own reflection on the mirror and seeing that his skin is normal — no hickeys, no scratches, not a single bruise or bite. His eyes are reddened though, kinda swollen and very tired. He takes long strides to the living room, where his notes are still above the black center-table with the bottle of water completely filled and untouched and the mug besides the pen. Chewing on his bottom lip, he looks at the whole room spinning in place and there’s not a damn indication that she’d been here. Maybe he was wrong, maybe someone did put an extra on his whiskey and the effects are happening just now. She has to be here, she has to be somewhere inside this condo. Shawn rushes back to the bedroom, grabbing his phone and searching for a message or whatever gives him a warning of where the fuck she’s hiding herself.

iMessage from Brian: hey dude. left ur keys on the counter last night and i’m gettin some breakfast n bacon to take care of this hangover. don’t die, brb!

Scrolling down, he sees nothing more than the usual. He scrunches his brows, opening his Instagram and instantaneously seeing a post from her in Toronto from 10 hours ago somewhere not even close to the pub he went to last night. She’s wearing the same dress he gifted her, though — hugging her shape dreamily and just from looking at it Shawn can feel the fabric in between his calloused fingers, and he smiles painfully.

 Under the steamy water, he runs his fingers through his hair a thousand times like the rubbing would make his brain dissipate the clouds from his thoughts. Nothing makes sense, nothing fits, nothing belongs together. When he’s sitting down back on bed with his soaked hair dripping waterdrops onto his back and chest, Brian pops his head inside the semi-opened door of his bedroom with a cup of coffee on his hand. “Hey, man!” Shawn looks at him and silently allows him in. “Feeling better?” “Guess I…” He frowns, eyes focusing on nothing. “Did we smoke yesterday?” “No, dude,” Brian answers, chuckling lightly. “But it looked like you did.” “What’s that?” “You were yelling her name in the middle of the pub for everyone to hear and that was so fucked up.” Then reality shoves a punch on his face. Hard. “So fucked up…” It was all a motherfucking dream from the moment Brian held him and forced him into the Jeep to come back home. The tears were wetting his face crazily and he couldn’t stop calling out her name from that second to when his best friend put him on bed, so drunk and so fucked up. “This shit’s all over the internet, isn’t it?” Shawn asks, facepalming with both hands. “Chill, bro,” He hears Brian responding. “We got you out of there coolly, don’t worry,” He takes a sip of his coffee, watching his friend sitting down and feeling miserable, wishing he could do something more. It’s almost motherly the way Brian stares at Shawn. “Got you breakfast, c’mon up—“ “Thanks, man, I’m good.” “You gotta eat, bitch,” Brian says playfully. “I’m not really into saving your ass from another catastrophe that soon.” This time, Shawn laughs exhaling through his nose and gets up. “Thank you for yesterday,” They smack hands together and pull each other for a side hug. “I owe you one,” After they release, Shawn fixes his towel around his v-line. “If you don’t mind I’d like to—“ “Be alone, yup,” Brian winks at him, stepping out of the room. “Gotcha. Good luck, man. If you need me I’ll be at Ian’s.”

As soon as he hears Brian closing the front door, he finishes putting on his boots and unlocks his screen open to find a chat and press onto the voice recording button. Holding it, he goes to the mirror to pass his hand on his hair for the last time. “Hey, uhm… I know this is random but… Can you meet me down on Adelaide Street?” And even though the message hasn’t been seen yet, he goes to the kitchen to take his keys and drive all the way there.

 And sitting down on his favourite café, he orders that meal he knows she likes to share with him while he tries to come down from the most gorgeous nightmare of his life, admiring the view from the ambient out there as he efforts his nerves not to feel empty anymore, expecting her to show up and fill his hollow being with the pleasure of having her presence physically, out of the mess that his mind has become.

He’s seen that she listened to his voice memo about an hour ago but didn’t respond. Shawn can’t stop staring at the chat wordlessly, gulping and breathing deeply before he’s snapped out of his own little world by a sweet-unique tone coming together with that enticing scent only he knew better than anyone else.

“Wanted to see me?” 

[turtlepated]

Pate I'm drunk I want PateDew HCs pleeeeease

@pastelnacht

Oh are you now? Lol, well I will do my best to provide! 

Let's see... PateDew is pretty open-ended so hows about I hit you with the half-formed vaguely self-insert WIP that’s been sitting in my Google Docs for weeks now: 

----

You’d been stressed out at work lately, stressed enough that two days simply wasn’t enough time to fully decompress. So when a couple of your coworkers invited you out for drinks after work, you decided to tag along. Why not? 

The Roadhouse bar was a bit more… rustic than you’d expected for a bunch of office workers like yourselves, but it seemed like the perfect place to lose yourself and unwind for an evening. It was loud, both from the rowdy patrons and the jukebox in the corner, smelled strongly of cigarette smoke and cheap booze and greasy food. Not somewhere you’d ordinarily venture on your own, but it was a nice enough distraction. 

After a couple beers you had a pleasant buzz going. Somebody at the jukebox set Don’t Stop Believin’ to playing and a cheer went up. Grinning widely you swayed back and forth in time to the piano overture and belted along to the first verse about the “lonely girl livin’ in a lonely world”, emboldened by the alcohol and the giggling of your colleagues. 

You spun around, startled, when another voice chimed in just as loudly behind you, picking it up with the “city boy, born and raised in south Detroit”, meeting a pair of brown eyes barely discernible under a mop of messy brown curls. 

And that was how you first met Dewey Finn, both of you belting along to the Journey favorite while other patrons booed and shushed you, pelting you with peanut shells while you both just laughed. 

It didn’t take long to learn pretty much all there was to know about Dewey Finn: he was easy going, funny and energetic and sweet, practically lived at the Roadhouse, and he loved rock music more than anything else. Even when sitting down he was always tapping his foot or thumping his hand against his knee, keeping rhythm with the song playing in his head. 

The two of you were fast friends and the Roadhouse became a regular watering hole for you. Dewey was fun and fascinating, so passionate about whatever topic happened to be under discussion that you couldn’t help getting excited right along with him. 

You bonded quickest over your overlapping tastes in music. While Dewey considered himself more of a purist (classic rock being the pinnacle of human achievement as far as he was concerned), few things seemed to thrill him more than sharing his music with you. The two of you sat across from one another in “your” booth at the Roadhouse, tipsy and giggly, having swapped phones to compare playlists. As expected, Dewey’s phone was full to bursting with AC/DC, Aerosmith, Black Sabbath, Van Halen, Guns n Roses, Rolling Stones. 

“Oh my God,” he laughed, turning your phone around to show you the screen. “Are you serious?” You flushed, embarrassed, covering your face with one hand. 

“Okay, look,” you began. “I didn’t get to have a Britney phase when I was a kid because I didn’t have any money to buy albums! And by the time I did Britney was considered cringey and I was too young to know that there’s no such thing as cringe! So I have to have my Britney phase now!” 

Your rebuttal only made Dewey laugh harder, his cheeks rosy and his eyes glittering both from the mirth and the drinks. He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Ah, I’m only messin’ with you! Though I’m impressed that you had like a whole defense just ready to go!” He turned his head, glancing around conspiratorially before leaning towards you over the tabletop, crooking a finger at you invitingly. Giggling, you folded your arms and leaned in on your elbows. 

“Not like Britney needs a defense,” he admitted, grinning, rapping the flat of his palm on the table between you to keep the beat as he started singing. “My loneliness is killin’ me!”

Without missing a step you chimed right in, “And I, I must confess, I still believe!” By the time you got to “Hit me, baby, one more time!” you were both almost incoherent from a fit of laughter, ignoring the vocal annoyance of the other regulars seated around you. 

Looking back, you considered that to be the moment you fell in love with Dewey Finn. 

If you were honest with yourself, that moment was probably when the two of you first sang along with Steve Perry, but you couldn’t help feeling a little silly and even cliched. The whole “love at first sight” schtick. 

In an ideal world, you could simply pluck up your courage and come right out and tell him how you felt. In an ideal world, he would tell you he felt the same way. The two of you might even exchange a tender kiss, if the romance in movies was anything to go on. 

But the world was not ideal. 

He did eventually tell you about the bizarre circumstances that led to his current job, which he so clearly loved and talked about constantly. Hearing the whole surreal tale, from start to finish, was a rollercoaster of subterfuge and deceit, plus a dash of identity theft and sprinkled with heartfelt personal growth. You joked with him that he ought to sell the story to a producer, get a movie deal. Jack Black would make a very believable Dewey Finn, you said, and he snorted into his drink. 

So many unexpected things had come about for him as a result of his improbable plan; not just a job but a career, one that he was passionate about, that excited him every day! Reveling in the talent of his students, their eagerness to learn and explore, seeing them progress and get better and better… It was a feeling that he’d only ever experienced before when playing a show, but now he got to feel it almost every day! In his wildest dreams, he’d never have even thought of where he was now in order to have wished for it. If the kids, his amazing, talented, face-shredding students had come as a shock, then their uptight, pencil-skirted, no-nonsense, secret rocker principal had thrown him for the biggest loop. 

It wasn’t until after the two of you had been friends for awhile (and after Dewey had thrown back a couple shots of tequila on top of his two and a half pints of beer) that he told you about Rosalie Mullins beyond “she’s my boss. Sort of.” 

Even Dewey was willing to concede that he took her out for drinks initially as a ploy to get her to agree to let him take his “class” to the band competition. The kiss that followed their conversation at the Roadhouse had been impulsive on his part, he hadn’t even thought about it at the time, there had been more pressing matters on his mind. In the aftermath of his unmasking; between the threats of arrest and homelessness, his adolescent band rallying his spirits and delivering a powerhouse performance; so many highs and lows in such a short expanse of time, it wasn’t until Rosalie Mullins grabbed his face afterwards and kissed him that it even dawned on him that there might be something to it. 

They’d gone out after things returned to normal, but after a few months of on-again-off-again they decided they were better as friends, as colleagues. Or rather, Dewey admitted a tad bitterly after finishing a third pint and another shot of tequila, Rose had decided they weren’t a good fit romantically and didn’t want to jeopardize their working relationship. 

“I really liked her, though,” he said with a sigh, slumping in the bench seat across from you and toying with the empty shot glass. “Smart, classy, beautiful.” You sat with your arms folded on the tabletop, trying not to let it show that each word struck you like a knife in the heart, wanting to be supportive in the midst of his disappointment because that’s what friends did for one another. Regardless of what you were feeling, it was clear he was still carrying a torch for the principal and when he showed you pictures he had kept on his phone you could see why. 

She truly was very pretty, very put -together, as stark a contrast as she could be in her perfectly tailored blazers and skirts to you in your jeans and T-shirts. You couldn’t help but feel ridiculous and petty, jealous of a woman you didn’t know, had never even spoken to just because the man you loved was still hung up on her. 

It didn’t matter anyway, because whatever your feelings may be, Dewey obviously didn’t feel the same about you, not when his heart was still set on Miss Mullins. 

You put it out of your mind, willfully ignoring it because at least you could still be his friend. No matter how heartsick it made you when his laugh or his smile made your heart swell and you wanted so much to kiss him but you couldn’t. You just couldn’t do that, it would ruin everything. 

As the weeks passed it got… maybe not easier to bear, but you grew used to the gnawing ache inside and you learned to ignore it. You barely even noticed it anymore. Things began to change when Dewey left you a very boisterous and excited voicemail, telling you to meet him at the Roadhouse after work because he had “huge, unbelievable, amazing news!” You had no idea what he could be talking about but whatever it was he met you at the door, practically bouncing like a puppy. 

In between corralling him into a booth and placing your drink orders with the waitress, you finally got him to calm down enough to tell you what he had to say. 

“Every year the country club crowd throws this big charity fundraiser for the city, and since a lot of em are Horace Green parents or alums, this year the school is hosting the charity and School of Rock is lined up to play the whole event! Isn’t that awesome?!” 

You beamed at him, his elation contagious. In the year since their formation and debut, Horace Green’s official student band (led by their music coach, Dewey Finn) had garnered a fair bit of publicity with their electrifying performance at the battle of the bands competition. Despite losing the contest, they had been the unequivocal crowd favorite and the school had enjoyed some very positive press in the midst of their growing popularity. 

But a gig like this would elevate the band to a whole new level, Dewey animatedly explained. You couldn’t help getting swept up in his mounting excitement, almost giddy to see him so wholeheartedly invested in the project. Naturally, you offered to be of whatever help you could to help him pull off such an important show. The band deserved it, and so did he. And if it meant you’d be seeing a whole lot more of Mr. Finn in the coming weeks, well… that would just be a bonus. 

[manicpixiedreamjew]

ok i rewrote and revised my letter! let me know what you think

2/9/19

Rabbi Randy,                                              

As our Into class comes to an end, a lot has been on my mind. My spirituality, my values; how my perception of the world has changed as I solidify my Jewish identity, especially as a young woman. I spent a few hours poring over journal entries dating back all the way to 2016 this Shabbat, and a consistent theme stood out in all of them: an overwhelming, genuine urge to live an authentic Jewish life. I read, thrown back into the innocent curiosity, the puppy love, the childlike fascination with Jews and Judaism that began with a book. The Chosen, the very first Jewish book I read, and I’m sure I’ve told you this story before; I’ll spare the details.

Anyway, those first inklings of interest, say, early 2016, were academic. I was a vehement atheist born to a family of atheists. Then again, who has a nuanced understanding of religion and people-hood at sixteen? My atheism was an obstinate, cynical world view triggered by traumatic experiences with Christianity. When I picked up The Chosen, though...I was slapped right across the face. Judaism was the first thing that challenged my philosophies; it forced me into an entirely foreign universe I never thought I’d know, need or understand. It taught me empathy foremost, in those early days...studying Judaism exhorted me to bear the burden of others, to feed the hungry (a MAZON seminar comes to mind), comfort the weary. Looking at my journal, an entry dated 3/3/17 elaborates on the effects of antisemitism in America, and next to that a newspaper cut out of a Magen David. It wasn’t quite personal then, but it was something I wouldn’t have looked twice at a few years earlier. It disturbed me deeply.

Then, mid-late 2017. The journal entries shifted, as you’d expect; I’d been exhaustively involved in reading and researching by then. I see a lovingly inscribed entry detailing, religiously, my first Kabbalat Shabbat at CRC. 7/1/17. The smells, the melodies, my friends, the birthday celebration of two elderly men who loved baseball. “A deep, riveting admiration for something ancient and pulsing with life.” That puppy-love stage was in full effect, my love of Judaism and its personal implications blossomed over the springtime, although its fragrance wasn’t entirely sweet: I was forced to confront my identity and ask myself that looming question. Do I want to become a Jew?

That question threw me for a loop. It was an emotionally intense time. I confided to my closest friend that, although it may sound absurd, converting to Judaism was something I was interested in. I remember crying myself to sleep some nights because the decision was so massive, so heavy, so entirely suffocating for someone with no background in religion, no sense of community or family. Eventually, though, my fate did not seem so dire, and I came to my senses: I loved Judaism. I loved it, I love it. One of the first things that stood out to me and comforted me was the Jewish emphasis on family, something I never experienced. I clung to it: how someone’s always there for you;  how you’re adopted into world-wide support network called the Tribe. How no matter where you travel, anywhere in the world, someone will enthusiastically invite you over for Shabbat lunch. How, because you are Jewish, you will never suffer alone.

That, then, began my serious resolve to be Jewish, do Jewish and live Jewish.

Ever since I met with you on 11/21/17 (I have an entry for that, too!), my life has been a foray into Jewishness. You told me to start observing Shabbat and Yom Tov, and I did so with vigor: I bought a chanukiah, acquired the shiniest candlesticks I could, and read every book the local library had regarding proper observances. I look back on my first few holidays and laugh now, playfully admonishing myself for my mistakes and mishaps. But that’s the fun, right? If I learned anything from this week’s Parsha (Terumah), it’s that the means are more much important than the end, the intention more meaningful than the actualization. Late 2017 to early 2018 was all that: learning, doing, experiencing, interacting, existing with a fat dose of humility. Organizing a basic Jewish vocabulary, and through Shabbat services and working with the community, pinning down what it means to live a Jewish life.

Enter 2018! This was, perhaps, the most frustrated and chaotic year on my Journey to Jewish. To start, it was my last semester of high-school. Everything, and I mean Everything, was dependent on my graduation—most saliently my own happiness and sanity. My synagogue attendance was dwindling, my ambition and motivation was all but absent. I’ve always suffered from depression and severe anxiety, but its clutch tightened horribly those first few months. I managed to attend a Kol Nidre service in early September—and, it remains one of my most beautiful and cherished memories to date. December, I know, was the hardest. Between my Catholic father making crusade jokes and my Jesus-obsessed mother spewing casual antisemitism, between unending loads of coursework and no free time, I felt my spirit literally withering. This never weakened my resolve to live Jewishly, but some days I just couldn’t bring myself to enact the values I knew I held in my heart. Some days Judaism felt like a beloved friend, and others Judaism felt like a stranger. Nevertheless I continued to live as Jewish a life I could, but even kindling the Chanukah candles felt joyless. I was like Tevye standing in the middle of the woods, anguished, as his horse refused to budge. Through all of it, though—the sadness, numbness, friction—I was never, ever, once deterred. That’s how life is sometimes. But to be a Jew, as our own Reb Tevye zealously insisted, you must have hope.

And I did. This is when Judaism became real to me, when I realized it was a part of my life and etched into my very being. If I could live Jewishly, study, be a part of my community and find solace while also dealing with these hardships, this was clearly meant to be. I’ve been using “us” and “we” pronouns for a few months now, referring to myself as Jewish even though I’ve yet to immerse in a mikveh. When our class visited the Holocaust museum, the loss and heartache I felt was profoundly intimate...a personal loss, the loss of family I never had the opportunity to know and love. I had never experienced anything like that before, and it continues to haunt me. I’ve been the target of hateful and ignorant remarks. People have glowered at my Magen David; they’ve called me names and insulted me. “Christ killer, money hoarder, dirty Jew.”

But, and I’m a bit weepy remembering this, living Jewishly (and loudly at that) is a blessing. Maybe two summers ago I catered to an older family for their son’s graduation party. An uncle approached me, blinked at my Magen David and muttered “bless you.” I was visibly shaken; I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Later in the evening the grandmother touched my shoulder and asked, “are you Jewish?” I told her I was a conversion student. She embraced me, dug out dreidels from her kitchen drawer, and told me that she was separated from her Judaism during childhood. That it was too dangerous for her to practice, that she wanted to go back to synagogue now that she was safe. I encouraged her daughter to finally have her bar mitzvah. My heart was full. Another memory I’m fond of: wishing a stranger chag Pesach sameach and Shabbat Shalom on the street. He was wearing a kippah. The smile on that man’s face was unforgettable.

Those moments, to me, were godly. Actions are a conduit of holiness; I’ve learned that over the years. To act with intent and sanctify the mundane is second nature to us. A bracha, a kind word, charity, song...everything is a vessel for godliness.

Fast forward a bit: 2019. As I grew into my adult identity, so did I into my Jewish identity. I had my 18th birthday, graduated, passed my driving test. I began to wrap my hair on Shabbat, meditate on the Sh’ma swathed in a tallit, give tzedakah. Often times I sat in the little CRC classroom and pondered on the application of my learning: how it translated into my everyday life, how it reconciled with my values as a progressive woman in today’s society...but mostly, I think, I thought about how at home I felt. I walk into CRC and immediately feel at peace; a part of a family, the member of a loving household. I walk into the sanctuary and about a dozen people are ready to greet me with big, heartfelt smiles. It melts me every single time.

Alright, I’ll quit boring you with all this schmaltz.

I’m not sure that there was one definite moment when I knew, for sure, that being Jewish was the right choice for me. In fact, to assume all that soul searching could fit into one tiny, fleeting, ephemeral moment is ridiculous...as you know from the absurd length of this letter, which is only a minute fraction of my story. Seriously, I could go on, and on, and on; but I digress. Sitting at our Sukkot celebration and dancing with all the other people, looking up through the sukkah and marveling at the hanging plants and leaves. Baking challah on Friday morning and realizing that somewhere, other Jewish women are doing the exact same thing. Feeling warm summer wind on my face, seeing fireflies flicker through the bushes and knowing that HaShem is there. Touching my siddur to the Torah for the first time and bristling, feeling as though something breathed new life into me. Group Aliyah, a guiding hand on my shoulder as we chant the brachot in clumsy unison…

Each moment (and many more, and yet more to come) reaffirmed the fact that Judaism is my home. Ruth said it more succinctly and eloquently than I ever could: Your people shall be my people, and your God shall be my God.

Randy, I never thought I’d be doing this. Ever. Looking back at the learning and growing I’ve done, reading those journals and reminiscing on my journey, I can firmly say, if you agree, I’m ready to enter this Covenant officially.

Thank you for everything, as always,

Zoë

[celery8705]

Gondola Kisses

“Wow!” Bartz exclaimed palms pressed on the cold glass, as he looked out of the cable car’s windows with wide, fascinated eyes. The cable car approached a large gold structure that looked like a giant tree, with what looked like large mushroom-like sections. Bright lights littered the enormous sections and the tower itself, spotlights moving in a fixed pattern on the perimeter of the different sections. The sounds of happy music reached his ears, a catchy tune he found himself humming to.

Cloud sat across from Bartz, arms crossed, his glowing blue eyes fixed the wind warrior who knelt on the bench and watched the lively scene of lights and music before him. A small smile graced his features. He was glad Bartz found a distraction to his fears through the sights and sounds of Gold Saucer. The brunette relaxed considerably since the start of the ropeway ride up towards the amusement park.

When Bartz realized they were going to a high place, his fear of heights began to take over, with his body trembling and his breathing shaky. Cloud felt somewhat guilty, making the brunette endure through his fears, but he wanted to show that everything was okay. During the ride up, Cloud held Bartz’s hand to calm his nerves and offered words of comfort to his beloved. It seemed to work somewhat, as the other rested his head on his shoulder, fingers entwined, but Cloud could tell he was still afraid due to the trembles his body exhibited. That was until Bartz saw the extravagant sight that was the Gold Saucer, the amusement park he and his friends went to during his first journey.

This was the first time since that journey Cloud’s returned to Gold Saucer. He’s passed by areas in Corel for deliveries and would see the towering amusement park from afar, but not once did he step foot in it. However, Cloud wanted to show Bartz this place, since it was one of the iconic attractions in Gaia. The goddess Materia allowed Bartz to return to Cloud’s world with him after their final battle in the unknown realm, the place where they had met and eventually fell in love. Now that he resided with him for a few months Cloud wanted to show him all his world had to offer.

The cable car entered through the tunnel and slowed to a stop. The door opened and before he knew it, Bartz was in front of him and tugged on his arm excitedly. “C’ mon, let’s go!”

The blonde swordsman chuckled, allowing himself to be pulled by the younger man as they made their way to the entrance. He smirked as Bartz took in his surroundings with wide-eyed wonder, his jaw dropped. It really was a sight to behold, with the dazzling colors and intricate designs of characters as part of the structures, and the many lights that illuminated the area.

“Whoa! I’ve never been to a place like this before,” said Bartz, hooking his arm with the blonde. “Cloud, look!”

Cloud followed his gaze to where Bartz pointed to, barely able to register what it was before the other pulled his arm towards it, causing him to almost lose his balance. Quickly regaining himself, the pair approached the chocobo character roaming around by the ticket booth, greeting and taking pictures with visitors. “Do you want me to take your picture?” Cloud asked, pulling out his phone.

Bartz’s face brightened at the question, his grin growing wide. “Is that okay?” he asked with an excited and hopeful look.

“Of course,” Cloud said with a small smile, turning on the camera of his phone as Bartz went up to the character to take his picture. Cloud held his phone in front of him and focused the camera on Bartz and the chocobo character. “Ready?”

“Yep!” Bartz said, wrapping an arm around the character’s shoulders.

Cloud snapped a couple of photos on his phone and reviewed them. His expression softened at the sight, eyes studying Bartz in the picture. He loved seeing the wind warrior happy, just the sight of it made him feel warm inside. Cloud always believed one of Bartz’s best features was his smile. There was something about it that made him want to smile as well; it was just that contagious for him. Whenever he was around him, he felt content, like all of his worries were washed away, even for a little bit.

The blonde felt arms wrap around his torso and Bartz rested his chin on Cloud’s shoulder, looking over at the picture on his phone. “Hey! That’s a good photo!”

Cloud hummed with a grin. “I think so too. C’mon, let’s go inside.”

“Yeah, c’ mon Chocohead!” Bartz exclaimed, heading for the ticket booth. Cloud rolled his eyes at the nickname. It was one Bartz had given him when they were on a journey together, because his hair reminded him of Boko—the chocobo Bartz traveled with on his journey. He caught up with him at the ticket booth and began their adventures in Gold Saucer.

The pair started off in Wonder Square, where they went to the arcade. Cloud introduced Bartz to the many games like the snowboard or submarine ones, and his personal favorite, the G-Bike. Bartz—who came from a world not as technologically advanced—was still learning how Cloud’s world worked, but happily watched in fascination as they played different games.

Cloud wasn’t sure how much time they spent in the area, but he enjoyed himself with Bartz. The freelancer struggled with some of the games, but he still had fun regardless. This satisfied him, as he felt he hadn’t spent as much time with Bartz as he would’ve liked the past few weeks due to deliveries. Although they’ve spent some time together, they were usually with their friends and family or helping out with Tifa’s bar. The blonde wanted to spend some alone time with his companion and have a good time with him. Hence the swordsman felt this was the perfect time to spend this day with Bartz, who had been patient with him, and Cloud was grateful for that.

Once playing almost every game in Wonder Square and even winning a large chocobo plush for Bartz, Cloud led them to the Chocobo Square to watch the different races. Bartz was particularly ecstatic about the races, choosing his favorite chocobos from the bunch and cheered them on as they raced through different animated and vivid colored scenery. Cloud remembered when he was a jockey for a little bit and he had to admit, he enjoyed it. He reminisced how exciting it felt to race against many other jockeys and the cheers from the crowds, but now Cloud was content watching from the stands with his partner.

After the excitement from Chocobo Square, Cloud led Bartz to one final attraction before they’d check in at the Ghost Hotel for the night. Cloud purchased two tickets for the gondola and turned back to Bartz. “C’ mon, let’s get on,” he said, grabbing Bartz hand and leading them inside.

As the two men sat down across each other Bartz asked, “What is this?”

“We’re in the gondola. I wanted you to see this,” Cloud said, blue eyes locked with pale brown. As soon as he said this, the gears started up and the gondola began to move.

“Show me what?” Bartz asked, confused.

Cloud smiled softly. “You’ll see soon.”

Bartz noticed that they were getting higher from the ground and his expression changed from confusion to worry. “Wait, are we going up again?”

The blonde nodded and gave an apologetic look as he held Bartz’s hand. “Yeah. Don’t worry, it’ll be okay,” Cloud reassured, keeping his gaze locked on Bartz.

With a shaky breath, Bartz nodded and chuckled nervously, trying to keep himself calm before he started freaking out. “Boy, y-you sure have a thing for taking me to high places. I mean, two times in one day? That’s a new record! If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were doing it on purpose.”

Cloud chuckled and teased, “I suppose I can take you to the highest point of Gold Saucer after this,” he teased with a mischievous grin.

“Okay, now you’re pushing it, buddy!” Bartz exclaimed, raising a hand up. “I’ve gotta draw the line somewhere.”

Another chuckle escaped from Cloud’s lips. He stood up from his seat and moved to sit next to Bartz instead. The other huffed and crossed his arms, trying to look mad but failing miserably. Cloud shifted closer to him, snaking his arm around the brunette and rested his hand on the other’s hip. He gingerly pressed his lips to Bartz’s temple, feeling his partner relax in his hold. Cloud often was not an affectionate type—at least in public. But with private moments like these did he show this side to him, especially when he knew Bartz very much enjoyed it. “I’m kidding, but I do want you to have a good time.”

Bartz uncrossed his arms and shifted in his seat to face Cloud, a soft smile on his face. “I’m having a great time with you,” Bartz said, leaning forward and pressed his forehead to Cloud’s. “Thank you, I appreciate you.”

Cloud closed the distance and kissed Bartz, slow and tender, lips soft to the touch. His heart swelled with emotions, going off like the fireworks happening in the background. He drowned out the sounds as he ran his fingers through soft locks of chocolate brown hair and moved his hand down to cup his cheek. Cloud slowly pulled away and observed his partner, their breaths mingling together between them as he stared into wondrous brown eyes. The swordsman caressed the other’s cheek with his thumb, holding his gaze on him. All that mattered was this beautiful man with him, the one who was able to open his shielded heart and made his days brighter. He finally understood what it meant to be happy, to live a fulfilling life and share his experiences with someone who meant so much to him, both the good and bad.

Cloud shifted closer to Bartz and pointed out the window as they approached the roller coaster, the tracks lit with many lights illuminating the area. “Look at that,” he said, resting his chin on the brunette’s shoulder. Screams were heard from people as the cars traveled at high speeds, going up onto the enormous loop they were passing through. Bartz’s eyes widened with enamored wonder as he took in the breathtaking sights of Gold Saucer and seemed to forget about his fears.

Cloud felt Bartz press his back further into him, relaxing in his arms. He tightened his hold on his companion as they enjoyed the scenery, from the different attractions and rides to a view of the Ghost Hotel, a different view of the chocobo races, and to the climax of the ride, where they reached the highest point of Gold Saucer. The fireworks exploded with different colors, lighting up the skies with their brilliance.

Cloud felt Bartz tense in his arms, his hands squeezing the blonde’s like a lifeline, which caused Cloud a glance in his direction. He noticed that Bartz was looking down after realizing how high up they were from the Gold Saucer. The wind warrior took a sharp and shaky intake of breath. Cloud kissed Bartz’s temple and whispered, “It’s okay, Bartz. I’m here.” He gently squeezed his partner’s hands and kissed the crook of his neck before nuzzling into it as ways of comforting the younger man. He listened to Bartz’s breathing, as he took deep breaths to calm himself down until he relaxed once more.

Once relaxed, Cloud reached over and hooked his fingers under Bartz’s chin to bring his gaze to meet his. He leaned forward and captured Bartz’s lips in another kiss. Cloud didn’t want this moment to end between them, he wanted to freeze time and stay here with Bartz in his arms. He felt his heart skip beats in his chest with each flick of the tongue, each caress on his warm skin, each tug on blonde locks, their bodies pressed together and fitting perfectly. It felt like he was falling in love with him all over again.

The pair pulled away from their kiss in need of air. Their breaths mingled together as they gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes, foreheads pressed together. Bartz rested his head in the crook of Cloud’s neck and took in his scent. “I love you,” Bartz said softly, eyes beginning to droop.

“I love you too,” Cloud responded with a soft grin, kissing the top of Bartz’s head. They sat in silence, holding each other as the ride was nearing its end.

As the gondola came to a stop, Cloud glanced down to see Bartz had fallen asleep. He ran his fingers through brunette locks and pushed his bangs away from his face to have a better look at the wanderer. He looked so peaceful, without so much as a care in the world. The blonde reached over, grabbed the chocobo plush sitting next to Bartz, and placed it on his partner’s lap. He scooped the other up into his arms bridal style and exited the gondola, where they left behind unforgettable memories.

[hopeishappinessff]

Holding Onto Hope: Chapter 55

Chris

Smoke filled my lungs to capacity and I held my breath as long as I could plus a few seconds longer, before releasing the cloud from my nose. Lifting the blunt to my lips, I inhaled yet another two lungs full of smoke, swallowed it down, and held it down like I’d just taken a big gulp of hot water. It felt good sizzling in my chest, calming me in a way that nothing and no one could. My eyes darted around the scene… it was dark out, but being in the middle of nature on a warm summer night was doing a magnificent job of bringing me to my senses. I would have preferred to be out at my little spot at the lake, but I couldn’t just steal my mom’s car like that for my own selfish reasons. Not to mention, she was out on some hot date this evening and because she refused to let the bastard come to the house and find out where we lived, she took her car to meet him there. I was the furthest from happy about her going out with some random man, but I was even further from happy about what the fuck had gone down this morning, so I didn’t have it in me to argue against her going. My mind had been completely off track and fucked up since I took that last look at Hope’s stunned face before storming out of her house, so I steered clear of the neighborhood all day because I was too ashamed to be anywhere near her after my episode.

Now, here I was at the local park about five minutes from the neighborhood. I made myself comfortable at the top of the highest part of the playground near the slides. I contemplated just camping out here for the night, because I was so disappointed in myself that I didn’t even want to set foot in the neighborhood at all. But, I am indeed a grown ass black man in the middle of a children’s playground in the park… I’m sure the local authorities would have some serious questions for me if they found me sleeping here.

Taking another mind-numbing hit from the blunt, I shut my eyes again as I held down the smoke, but this time after I blew the smoke out I took the sweet in my right hand and smashed it against the hard surface I sat on. I was really too high to be this far up on this playground and I was a bit concerned about how I was gonna get down without breaking my neck, but I would just worry about that when the time came… which I unfortunately knew would be soon.

Leaning against the bars behind me, I sighed and shut my eyes once again… it was the best way for me to replay the tragic events of this morning. I needed to replay those events. I needed to suffer by sitting there with my eyes shut forever so I could replay every single pained memory of the heartache I’d cause for Hope. I deserved nothing other than straight up suffering.

True enough, I hadn’t taken my medicine at all yesterday because I knew I’d be consuming hefty amounts of liquor so I didn’t want to tamper with my system like that. As a matter of fact, I had yet to take any of my meds, but I couldn’t use that as an excuse. No, I simply got pissed off in that kitchen because… I was afraid. I was deathly afraid that Hope had really gotten upset enough with me to leave, again, and I couldn’t handle the thought of that. I was so frustrated with my own fuck up that I snapped and took it out on her when she refused to hear my bullshit excuses. I was wrong and she was every bit of right… if she wanted to be mad and not hear me out, I should have respected that and walked away. This girl sent me a picture of her naked breasts for crying out loud… who wouldn’t be mad if they saw that on their boyfriend’s phone?

I don’t even know how the chick got my number, but it didn’t matter at this point. The damage had already been done and I guess the only thing I could do was wait to see how much it would affect us.

I had a therapy session coming up in a couple days, but I didn’t even have the desire to share any of this with Dr. Stevenson. Back in Georgia if I knew I was scheduled to see Dr. Yates soon, I would be anxious for days until the appointment arrived so I could spill the news to her. She never failed to make me feel like the weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders whenever I shared something with her. Whether good or bad, she just made me feel like everything that I was saying was the most important thing she’d ever heard and that was what made her the most amazing therapist to me. I was almost tempted to get in contact with her so she could tell me what I needed to do to make this right, but… I didn’t know the rules as far as me reaching out to her. Was that even legal? Knowing Dr. Stevenson, she’d somehow find out and use that as an excuse to throw my ass back in the institute… I really hated that woman with everything in me.

I don’t know how long I’d been sitting up on this playground or even what time it was, but based on the way my stomach growled every five minutes or so, one thing was for sure… I had some serious munchies. I chuckled to myself and shook my head, thinking back to how I stormed out of the house right before breakfast was ready and I’d successfully been so caught up in my feelings that I skipped lunch and dinner.

With a defeated sigh, I tried not to think about just how high and high up I was as I stood and slipped the half smoked joint and lighter in my front pocket. Standing there for a moment, I really considered just how much I did not want to risk climbing down the step stone ladder looking thing in front of me, or the stripper pole behind me, or the random rings that looped from the top of this thing to the ground to my left… my only logical and safe option was one of the three slides attached. I chuckled, yet again, with a shake of my head… damn I hope nobody was watching my ass.

I shut my eyes for the brief ride down and imagined that I hadn’t just fucking childishly done that all the way to the ground. Quickly standing to my feet, I brushed off the back of my jeans and adjusted the hat atop my head before briskly walking out of the playground and the park altogether. There was a corner store a few blocks away and I figured I would go grab some snacks to get me through the night then head on home, hopefully before my mom got back. I felt like I floated down the street, I was that damn high… but I felt good, and that’s all that mattered. By the time I reached the convenience store I couldn’t even remember taking the journey there. I pulled the glass door open and floated through there too until I found myself in the middle of the candy isle. There were too many options to choose from, so I made it as simple as I could for myself and picked a few chocolate candies, a few gummies, and a pack of sour skittles. Then I made my way around to the chip isle to grab a bag of Doritos, and I finally wrapped up the trip by plucking a blue cherry Gatorade from the refrigerators in the back.

I quickly made my way to the register and waited impatiently for the older white lady to ring up my items. It felt like decades before she finally gave me a total and after sliding a twenty across the counter at her, she slid my change back to me along with my items.

“Can I get a bag please?” I grumbled, discreetly rolling my eyes when she leaned over behind the counter to grab a plastic bag. I ended up snatching it from her hand and bagging my own shit before turning and making my way back out.

I was too focused on tearing a bag of peach gummy rings open to notice the nigga coming through the door as I walked out. Only when the bag went toppling from my hands and onto the dirty pavement did I bother to look up and mug this asshole, but suddenly I found myself rooted right where I stood as I made eye contact with this guy. He gave me no more than a wicked smirk, that looked more mischievous than I cared to admit, before finally brushing past me and into the store. My head twisted so that I could keep him in focus and my heart pounded loud enough to be heard loud and clear in my ears. I guess he could still feel me staring at him like a creep because he glanced back at me with that same filthy smirk on his face and with a shake of his head, he looked away from me and kept moving to the back of the store. I wasn’t losing my mind… at least I hope I wasn’t.

 --

 If my eyebrows scrunched together any harder, I was sure to end up with a permanent frown on my damn face. My fingers maneuvered around the sleek buttons on the controller effortlessly, as usual, but for the life of me I could not win a single one of these got damn games. I was getting frustrated, enough to want to throw the controller across the room… but I wouldn’t do that to my man Dontay. He’d invited me over for a few rounds of halo and I happily accepted the invite and hopped in my mom’s car almost quicker than she had time to confirm that she didn’t have anywhere to go today. I desperately needed to get out of the house… I’d been cooped up in there for a full week and I was on the verge of losing my mind. But the longer I sat on this couch playing this game, listening to Dontay hoot and holler in my ear about how he couldn’t believe he was whooping my ass, the more I realized perhaps I wasn’t all that prepared to leave the house. My head was all over the place and more than anything the run in I’d had at the corner store still had me shook… I couldn’t get the thought of it out of my mind. The encounter lasted all of thirty seconds, but it replayed in my mind like an ongoing movie. I couldn’t shake the feeling I got in that exact moment… couldn’t rid my mind of the haunting memories that lingered, even though I hadn’t touched on that topic in two years.

“Dawg, oooooh dawg, you gone have to come up off that forty dollars today got damnit!” Dontay yelled, bouncing like a child on the couch beside me. He tossed his own controller on the floor thanks to his excitement and abruptly stood up, turning to face me with an annoying grin on his face.

“Pay up playa!” I couldn’t help but chuckle and shake my head… I would give him this win, no lie, he earned it. But it wasn’t my fault that I couldn’t get my thoughts together enough to focus. Reluctantly I reached into the front pocket of my basketball shorts and pulled out my wallet, feeling around inside it for the two crisp bills he stood there demanding with his arms crossed.

“Don’t get used to this shit though bro. You might as well hold on to those bills because next time we play, I’m taking them right back… plus some.”

“Nigga plus these nuts, you ain’t taking shit!” He laughed, stuffing his reward in his pocket like a stripper who just pulled an all-nighter and turning to head toward the kitchen, “You want something to drink?”

“I been in your house for more than half the day Don and you just now offering a nigga something to drink?” I laughed.

He’d already gone around the column separating the living room from the kitchen, but he made it a point to stick his left hand and middle finger up at me from the behind the wall making me laugh harder.

“You really coulda been got up and fixed your own shit, lowkey. Talkin’ shit in my shit… don’t get put out boy.” He couldn’t help but laugh himself as he rounded the corner back into the living room with two bottles of beer in hand. He handed one off to me with the top already popped off and I took a swig the moment it was in my hand.

“Thanks bro.” I mumbled, four full swigs later. He nodded his response as he switched the TV back over to regular cable and began to surf through the channels. We sat there in silence for a while as I gulped down half the bottle… my nerves were getting the best of me and I really needed to pace myself before I ended up killing the whole box by myself.

I hadn’t even realized that not only had Dontay settled on Fast and Furious, he’d dropped the remote on the arm of the couch beside him and he actually sat there staring at me as he waited for me to respond to a question I hadn’t even heard him ask.

“Bro, what the hell!” He exclaimed after almost a full minute of me gazing at this bottle in my hand and ignoring his question.

“My bad… what you say?”

He stared at me oddly for a moment, glanced at the bottle I held, and looked back at me with a raised brow “I was asking if you heard from Sy?”

My heart dropped… perhaps I shouldn’t have asked him to repeat that question. I had not heard from Hope in approximately one week and he just reminded me of that unfortunate fact.

Not only had my mind been plagued with thoughts of my encounter at the gas station, but most of every second of every day had been spent thinking about her. From the moment I walked out of her house after I slammed my fist into the refrigerator door, ‘til now… I hadn’t heard from her. I couldn’t bring myself to face her or even hear her voice after that… I was entirely too ashamed. But the part that crushed me more than anything was that I hadn’t actually heard from her… because she hadn’t reached out to me. No phone call, no texts… she even went as far as avoiding me altogether on social media. Every single day since that incident was spent sulking in my room because I just couldn’t come to terms with what I’d done. Even after my session with Dr. Stevenson on Wednesday, I still felt like shit. It’s not like I was expecting the miracle of having some type of breakthrough with that woman that would inspire me to go approach Hope and extend my sincerest apologies, but… I was at least expecting some type of decent resolution. But no… I walked out of her office feeling like I needed to go jump off a bridge. Thankfully I went home and isolated myself from the world instead.

There were a few nights when I would sneak out of the house to come chill at Dontay’s with the boys, but today was the first actual day that I’d decided to function like a normal human during normal hours.

I think I may have sat there in an awkward silence much longer than I should have after he asked the question for the second time, so once I realized that I quickly cleared my throat and shook my head “Nah.”

“Damn… well, how you been man?”

I often tended to forget that these boys knew me almost better than I knew my own damn self. Or, I wouldn’t forget, but just chose to believe that they didn’t know me at all because after my diagnoses I felt like a totally different person… but they knew me. Dontay was fully aware of my dependence on Hope and he understood how much it affected me to go longer than a day without talking to her. It had been that way when we were kids and nothing had changed… accept now it actually took prescription medication to get me to calm the fuck down enough to deal with her absence.

“Alright I guess,” My jaw clenched as I thought about opening the topic further to reveal more of my truth to Don… I mean the guy knew most of me, but he didn’t know all of me, “I uh… had to get a prescription from my therapist to help me, you know… cope.”

He stared at me through wondering eyes, but they weren’t judgmental at all… I think that’s what made it feel so much easier to discuss any of this with him “What kind of prescription?”

“Alpranax.”

His brows furrowed with question and I chuckled with zero humor with a shake of my head “It’s herbal relaxation… a more, holistic approach I guess. Originally I started out with Klonopin, but… that didn’t turn out so well and now I’m banned from using that. I also have a prescription for medical marijuana.”

Dontay’s fist catapulted out and directly into my left arm before I could even blink and I yelped a healthy “Shit man!’ and damn near dropped my bottle trying to reach up and rub the now throbbing spot.

“I just been giving you my stash, thinking I’m helping yo ass out and you got the real plug. Fuck you dawg!”

I would have been mad because all my focus had immediately gone to the dull pain in my arm, but I couldn’t fight back my laughter at the look on his face… he really did look pissed. I mean, yeah I smoked the man’s shit and willingly accepted every gram he offered me, but… it wasn’t my fault he didn’t ask me if I had a connect before he just started donating from his stash!

“I know those medical dispensaries be having that legit shit… you owe me bro.” He chuckled.

“You coulda just said that before hauling off on my fucking arm Don… damn.” My arm really did hurt like shit because he managed to sink his knuckles into my skin in that slick hit, but I still laughed though… nigga better be glad he was like a brother to me.

“But, I don’t get it though… why you need a prescription to cope? It has to do with the time you haven’t been around Sy?” He asked once the laughter settled

“It has everything to do with that man.” “But you ain’t ever had to rely on some medicine to help you deal with that before. What they had you on down there in Georgia man… you know I still don’t even know your full story from after you left camp up in New York to move down to GA.”  

No one does, I thought. Nibbling quietly into the inside of my bottom lip, I stared down at the bottle I’d since picked back up in my right hand. I watched as a few straggling beads of perspiration slithered down the neck of the bottle… stared at it as the beads of water trickled down along the edges under the pressure of my warm hand. The same way I could feel myself beginning to sweat under the watchful eye of Dontay… was that story really one that I was ready to reveal?

Only a select few people knew the entire details, like Hope, my mom, and Dr. Yates… only because they had to know. And Benny… because he’s the one who saved my life precisely seconds after I tried to end it. My heart raced and I swallowed nervously as the memories swirled through every crevice of my brain, overtaking my ability to even speak for a moment.

I’m not sure how much time passed while I continued to sit there, slipping further and further into my dark memories. I tried not to ever do this… I tried not to recollect anything from that night. My life was not in my own control back in those days. I’d allowed an entire entity to consume me to the point that Christopher Maurice Brown completely ceased to exist. The more I thought about it, the harder it was to believe that that was once me and it was even harder to believe I allowed that damn demon to be anywhere near Hope… I still don’t think I’ve fully come to terms with it to this day…

“Hey man,” I flinched at the feeling of Dontay touching my shoulder because for several minutes, my mind wasn’t even in this room, “You don’t have to talk about that shit if you don’t want to bro.”

Inhaling a much needed breath of air, because I think I may have forgotten to breathe in that span of time as well, I quickly shook my head and blinked several times to really regroup.

“Nah, nah… it’s fine. My bad… I uh, I got diagnosed while I was out there. Therapist pinned me with bipolar disorder and dissociative identity disorder.” I mumbled.

“Dissociative identity disorder… the hell is that?”

“Multiple personality disorder…”

The room became deathly silent then and I was honestly afraid to even look at Dontay. There was a load of fear lingering in the pit of my stomach that this would be the moment that he would kick me out of his crib and tell me to go fuck myself and never come back. This was it… I was a fucking weirdo and no one wants to be associated with a weirdo…

“Don, I should probably go man…” I went to make a move to get up from the couch, still without bothering to face him, but I noticed his hand sticking out in front of my chest to prevent me from moving. I stared down at his hand, which forced me to notice how hard my chest was heaving, and abruptly shut my eyes.

“Shit bro!” The bottle that was once in my hand was suddenly snatched away and I could feel him shifting around beside me then the sound of footsteps rushing to the other side of the apartment. He was fucking running from me now? Damnit… how embarrassing. I needed to go, now.

Clutching at the front of my shirt, desperate to regulate my breathing enough to not pass out, I opened my eyes and prepared to make a run for it to the front door, but ended up frowning at the sight of him rushing back toward me with a chilled bottle of water in his hand.

“You good Breezy? Here, drink this… calm down man.” He thrusted the bottle out at me and I accepted it reluctantly. Cracking the top open, I swallowed down two mouthfuls and finally glanced at him from the corner of my eye.

He was sitting there with his legs spread wide, elbows perched on his knees, and fingers linked together as he sat slouched in a lazy stance. His brows were deeply furrowed and he shook his head slowly, as if really trying to register what all had just happened.

“You a soldier Chris, I know that much,” Was the first thing he muttered, immediately catching my attention and forcing me to focus on what he was saying after I’d calmed my breathing, “You been out there dealing with all that shit that whole time man? And no one knew? Why you ain’t been home man… this is where you need to be because I’m sure that shit ain’t just happen to you overnight, right? Nah… this ain’t new, it’s been in you the whole time… shit yo ass been crazy as fuck since we was what like, eight.”

That was the first inkling that he wasn’t here to judge me, at all… and we both laughed. Not only at what he’d just said, but at the unspoken fact that he was totally fine with what I’d just explained to him. I wasn’t a weirdo in his eyes. I was still his boy… his brother.

“But I’m saying bruh, if you’ve been living like that… completely undiagnosed since you was a youngin, who would have ever guessed it? You grew up like that, right here in VA with us, and you never got diagnosed. You know what that tells me… that tells me that ain’t no love for you out there. All the love and support you need is right here, right at home. You gone be alright my dude, ‘cause you home now and we gone make sure you taken care of. You, Sy’Diyah, and my niece.”

I stared down at nothing in particular on the floor and blinked rapidly to prevent the tears from coming, because man did they want to. God… what did I do to deserve friends and loved ones like this? I wasn’t expecting that, at all, but Dontay literally just listened to me explain to him that I am basically insane, and all of them took the time out of their lives to come to my welcome home party with full knowledge that I had just been released from a mental institution… because they cared.

“Thanks Don. You don’t know how much I appreciate that man.” I damn near whispered because I was too afraid that if I spoke any louder my voice would crack.

“And I appreciate you for sharing that shit with me bro. I know that shit has to be tough for you… I can only imagine what it’s like to have to walk around knowing that that’s who you are, but guess what… you ain’t know about it before, so what makes you any different now?”

I shook my head and laughed, sniffling and blinking back tears and all “Alright man, chill out… you forreal ‘bout to make me cry and shit.”

“Aww, they diagnosed yo ass with being a pussy too?” We both burst out laughing and I finally had the opportunity to get a grip on my emotions then, “Listen, ain’t no need to get emotional on me bro. What I’m saying to you right now is straight facts, no filter. You think ain’t nobody notice you ain’t been shit but a shell since you been back? You ain’t been nothing close to the Breezy I knew before you left. I mean you been all timid and shy and shit, you just seem like your nerves is always bad and shit. I don’t know everything that went down out there, but clearly it was some major shit to put you in a whole institute. But you home now my dude… you home like you ain’t never left, so let all that shit stay right where it belongs… behind you. Real talk… I love you to death Chris, you know you my brother. On behalf of myself and the whole crew, we love you and we gone always ride for you. Don’t you ever forget that boy.”

He stood up suddenly and didn’t give me much time to decide if I really wanted to cry or not before yanking me up into a straight genuine, brotherly hug. We stood there for a while hugging it out, which gave me time to tuck this new memory away. I felt like it filled the place of one of my many horrible memories. I couldn’t make it make sense if someone asked, but exactly like Dontay said… this is exactly where I needed to be and all the other shit that went down in Georgia was behind me. Every day I spent here in Virginia helped push me closer and closer to the person I once was. I could feel a broad smile coming on the longer I thought about it… until I heard a sniffle that didn’t come from me.

“Dontay…”

“My bad bruh, shit… I ain’t mean to get that deep.” He pulled back from me and quickly turned around. He raised his arms and swiped his hands down over his face, quickly as if I wouldn’t notice… he was crying. This nigga was actually crying. He was the one who just told my ass not to cry!

“I thought you said no crying bro?” I chuckled.

“Ain’t nobody crying nigga, chill out.” He quickly spun back to face me, but there was no use in trying to deny it… the tip of his light bright ass nose was pink. I shook my head and continued to laugh… and I thought I was the pussy.

[fishdavidson]

Dream Journal 2019-02-23: I Finally Had A Dream And It Was A Doozy!

After a lengthy absence, my constipated subconscious has finally broken through its medicated haze and bestowed upon me some dreams. I nearly cried upon waking up because I was so happy to dream again. Hopefully I’ll acclimate to the medication in the next few weeks and be dreaming regularly, but there’s still the potential for big absences between journal entries. With that said, let’s get to the good stuff!

Dream Fragments

Chris Pratt is making a list of all the Avengers who survived Thanos’s purge in Infinity War. But in this reality, Mario (of Super Mario Bros. fame) is an Avenger who did not survive the snap. So Chris stops being Star Lord and assumes the mantle of Mario. Honestly, Chris P. was most excited about being able to make the sproing sound Mario makes when jumping.

My friend Josh and I were in a castle dungeon as prisoner extras for a film about ancient Greece. We had a discussion about the cultural impact of two mythological dungeons in Greek culture: Stygia and That Other One. The discussion was good, but my loincloth was ill-fitting. Thankfully, I had no loincloth malfunctions.

The Big Dream: Adventures In The Scrublands

An epic sunset of wild colors splashes across the sky at the start of this dream. The sun is mostly below the horizon and a creeping shroud of purple is overtaking the orange and red clouds in the sky. I’m standing on a small hilltop overlooking the back of a Walmart, and noticing the Walmart reminds me that I need to do some shopping there. No, Walmart is not the scrubland mentioned in the title; we’ll get there eventually.

I saunter down the hill and find a crowd of people dressed in dirty yellow rags. They are people of all ages and ethnicities, and I ask an older man in the crowd why everyone is dressed like this. He tells me that they’re protesting capitalism.

Cool. Well I gotta go give some money to some corporate oligarchs, so I excuse myself and enter the store through a side entrance. There’s a display of crackers sitting just outside the entrance, so I grab a few boxes because these are nice crackers at discount prices. Unfortunately this triggers the store’s inventory control system, and I have an argument with one of the greeters about whether or not I already paid for the crackers.

The dispute gets resolved somehow, and I call my friend Josh from the previous dream fragment to ask if he needs anything. He needs some chips, so I go to the food section of the store. They have many unusual food items for sale, some of which I will list below:

Frozen pineapple shells, which are literally just the rough skin of pineapples and you are supposed to bury them in the ground for three weeks before eating them for maximum flavor.

A giant fruit called a Liovepote, and it’s blood-red and the size of a small child

Frozen sour cream, which is just like regular sour cream only with the consistency of a brick.

Plastic liriope (a decorative plant, but you know... fake because of the plastic) that I immediately became unreasonably enraged at seeing it advertised as food and began swearing.

I leave the food section and the store without buying anything (sorry, Josh!). But using doors in dreams is always a risky proposition, and I end up transported to a desert scrubland in the middle of the day. Also, instead of a box of crackers that I may have attempted to steal, I now have a tiny superhero companion named Vern.

Vern is no taller than my forearm is long, and he wears a green spandex suit. He is fully grown, despite being smaller than some babies. We’re best friends now and he often rides on my shoulder as I traverse this mysterious land in which I find myself.

There isn’t much to see here beyond some sparse grass and rocky outcroppings, but it’s pretty in a desolate sort of way. The sun beats down on us as we walk. I turn around to get my bearings and realize a harsh truth: the landscape is constantly shifting whenever we’re not looking at it. Now we’re lost in a weird desert with no giant Walmart sign to use to guide us home.

Vern offers to scout ahead, since this isn’t his first time visiting the mysterious scrublands. I wish him luck and find some shade under which I can rest. But Vern got overconfident and doesn’t return after an indeterminate amount of waiting.

Now the landscape is littered with stone statues in various states of disrepair. An army of stone golems is marching toward me at a steady but halfhearted pace. These stone dudes mean to do me harm, so I get up and break into a brisk walk away from the golems. I pass a curious piece of porcelain on the ground and make a mental note of it.

I keep walking.

There is a brief moment where the reality of the dream collapses and I learn that I am in a movie directed by Chris Miller and Phil Lord, the same people who directed The Lego Movie. And as quickly as it appeared, we’re back in the scrublands again.

Now I have stumbled upon a caravan of individuals who are also trying to find an escape from this harsh, sun-bleached wasteland. My new traveling companions include some colorful characters:

An old lady with wild hair and a beat-up old pickup truck

Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head dolls who are alive like in Toy Story, and they drive a tiny potato-shaped car called the Tatermobile

A strawberry Nutrigrain breakfast bar that can slither over the ground like a snake. It’s a pet that belongs to the Potato Heads.

One formerly-dead baby alligator, whom the Nutrigrain bar had cast a resurrection spell upon

We wander through the desert some more. I pass another curious piece of porcelain. Once again, I make a mental note.

The POV of the dream shifts, and now we’re watching another (human-sized) guy in a green spandex suit pick up something from the ground. It’s more green spandex, and he thinks it’s the missing mask for his supervillain outfit. He’s got an evil smile and evil eyebrows so we definitely know he’s a bad guy. He’s reciting a monologue about how he’s going to trap us in this wasteland forever. But the thing he put over his head is not a mask at all; it’s the remains of Vern’s super suit. And unfortunately for the supervillain, the part where Vern’s butt went is placed exactly where the supervillain’s nose is.

The supervillain has a fourth-wall-breaking moment and confesses to the audience that he is certain that he has made a huge mistake by putting this “mask” on his face.

Now we flash back to our motley group of travelers. We pass yet another piece of porcelain, and this time something clicks in my brain. There are actually only two pieces of porcelain, and they appear at set intervals in our journey like they’re on some kind of loop. If you collect both pieces and put them together, you can create a portal to leave this place. So I scoop the porcelain fragment off the ground and we keep walking in hopes of finding the next fragment.

Don’t worry, though. My hunch was right.

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Header image is of the Mr. Potato Head Ride On toy taken by Tracy’s Toys.