#I would not be as nonchalant as that girl if someone had just blown cigarette smoke directly in my face though

[not-with-you-but-of-you]

MILO VENTIMIGLIA as CHRIS PIERCE in AMERICAN DREAMS (2002-2005)

(x)

[hardyimagines]

A Crave For Fame

Would love a Forrest piece, maybe where you’re cornered by some bad guy and Forrest steps in and you nurse him. Bandaging his wounds and what not. You get really close to his face and he acts nonchalant about it but you’re really shy. Ends in a heated kiss. Lots of fluff.

TW: Mild Violence

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1932.

The bar smelt like thick liquor and dried throw up. The top of your nose was red and cold from the chilly wind as it whipped around outside swirling in circles, shaking tree branches until they were forced to drop their leaves, whisking up grains of dirt and sending them flying in the direction of those who were outside. It was a dust storm of some sort, that’s what people were referring to it as. The air outside was orange and murky, it looked as if the clouds had descended and were making the world all puffy and one big blur.

The tips of your painted nails slid along the straps of your bright red apron. Unhooking the fabric from the silver hook on the wall, you briefly ogled the peeling paper, crisp and dangling like a hangnail waiting to be ripped off. The apron wasn’t exactly required, but you found that it definitely helped to wear something in order to prevent having alcohol sloshed and spilled and stuck on you when rowdy customers would shake their heavy fists and bounce their heavy, drunk bodies on the counter stools.

Regardless of how many times you wiped down the counter, it always seemed to have a slick, sticky feeling to it and the lemon scent only masked the stench of whiskey and rum for a limited amount of time. The sign outside read ‘Restaurant’ and the sign further forward read ‘Gas station’, and while there was a small supply of gas and a short list of food items on the menu, that wasn’t at all what this place was truly selling.

It was the prohibition era. People were parched and the only way to quench their thirst was by giving them a cold beverage that scalded their throat as it went down. The smooth liquor was rich, bitter, sweet, plain. Everybody had their preference. You weren’t much of a drinker, but pouring beverages was easy enough and from the looks of approval you received all the time, you’d assume you were doing a pretty good job.

Working for bootleggers was never something that had spiked your interest in the past - and maybe it wouldn’t have when you had sauntered up the hill when it was pouring down rain a year ago, but one look at the man had charge had sent you reeling. You didn’t want to work anywhere else.

Forrest Bondurant was one of, if not, the most attractive men you’d ever seen. He had big blue eyes and a head of constantly gelled hair. Why he went through the trouble of styling such a mess, you didn’t know, majority of the time he wore a hat on top of it anyway. He was always strolling around in his big gray cardigan with a button down or another sweater underneath. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’d overfilled the shot glasses on the bar and spilled liquor all over your fingers and the counter, just because staring at him was such a distraction. He didn’t notice though, and if he did, he didn’t say anything.

The front door opened with a loud creak, the hinges loudly alerting whoever had just entered that they were in no shape to be handled so roughly. The door swung shut, slamming loudly behind the new guest. His eyes shimmered green and his teeth sparkled white. The man removed his top hat and strode up to the counter with so much confidence you could’ve upchucked. Men like him made you want to spit in their drinks.

“What can I get for you?” You asked, not bothering to stop and give him the eye contact that he was clearly searching for.

“Something light.” The man said. “I won’t be staying long.” He pressed his elbow against the counter, but made no mention of the filth or the stench.

It wasn’t busy yet, but there were always people inside. Either they slept the night at the bar counter, on the floor, at a table, or outside, or they showed up as bright and early as the sun did, ready to start drinking the day away. Most of the customers that tended to be here so long just made their own drinks when you rested. Forrest knew them, you knew them, so there was no harm done. But this man, he was a completely new face.

“Something light as in water?” You said, pouring a shot of water and replacing it with the shot of vodka that one of the men had been drinking. He was green in the face and looked about ready to faint. You knew he needed to be eased off the liquor, you couldn’t just flat out say that - people reacted too differently to know if it would be a threat or not to cut someone’s intake off.

The man snorted. “Why would I come into a bar for a glass of water?”

You arched a slow brow. “The same reason you’d come in and ask for something light - we have liquor, straight from the bottle. It’s not dolled up and pretty, we don’t have any mixers, it’s just straight alcohol.” You didn’t say another word, instead you finally let your eyes flicker to his own, resisting the urge to glare. But your patience was wearing thin. You didn’t have time for games and he was beating around the bush.

The man sighed. “Moonshine.” He said before lowering himself down on the stool. “And maybe a drink of you?” You could hear the amusement in his voice, as if he were positive you’d take him up on his offer. He found himself hilarious.

Turning on the heel of your pointed boot, you wrapped your slender fingers around the neck of the silver bottle. Rotating, you poured a perfect glass of moonshine and then set the glass down in front of him. No spillage. The liquid was filled to the brim. Extending your arm, your palm creased as you curled your finger inward, waiting to be paid.

Instead, the man grasped your wrist and pressed it against the bar counter. “How about you give this one to me for free? Since I don’t see you marching that ass of yours from out behind the counter.” He patted his lap for good measure. “I went ahead and saved you a seat,” He motioned to his thigh again. “but you know, you’re being awful rude.”

Your eyes creased in the corners, stare hardening as the man tightened his hold on your wrist. Forrest was a shout away, but you were a big girl, not some maiden in a tower waiting to be rescued. Attempting to jerk your arm back to yourself, you hissed under your breath when he turned it at an odd angle. All the other men in the room were out old or oblivious. You could scream their names and they probably wouldn’t bat an eye.

You flinched as he began to rifle through his pocket.

“I’ll give you something.” He said, masking the tone of his voice for a more gentle and apologetic one. But you weren’t an idiot, so you didn’t let your guard down. But it wasn’t as if you could just rip your arm away from him. He was insanely strong and you, unfortunately, didn’t get much upper arm strength pouring drinks. Before you could utter a word, he pressed a cigarette against his lips and lit the end. The brownish-orange tip of the stick illuminated with bright orange embers as he inhaled and the smoke lifted from the end of the form of payment.

“Let me go.” You insisted, practically ripping at your arm so hard that your wrist had gone numb from his tight grasp.

“After I pay you.” He said. You didn’t know what to expect, a puff of smoke being blown in your direction? The man pinched the stick with his knuckles, clasping it between his pointer finger and his middle finger. He rotated it swiftly, pinching it then between his thumb and pointer finger. As suddenly as he moved the smoking tip toward your flesh, your eyes flickered with realization. And then you began to squirm.

“Hey..” You pulled harder. “What are you doing?” It was so obvious. But in a panicked state of mind were you expected to speak adequately. “Let me go, please..” Begging was never one of your strong suits. It just didn’t fit you. You hated it, having to ask someone to have mercy on you. But you didn’t fancy smelling burnt flesh, or feeling the pain that would come along with seared flesh. Scream for help, your brain said. You’re a big girl, but you can still ask for help, it reminded you.

The ashes fell from their loose spots on the cigarette, floating across your skin, dusting it with kisses. The ashes gathered on the counter as he lowered the hot tip of the cigarette toward your flexed forearm. Forrest’s name was on the tip of your tongue, but the pink muscle felt swollen and useless. There was a block in your throat that wouldn’t let your voice free and for the first time in a long time, fear surged through you like a whirlwind, resembling the very state of weather outside. Your body ran hot with fear and as you jerked your elbow to the side, the glass of moonshine toppled over and clattered against the floor.

Pieces scattered along the floor as the cup smashed on impact. If that wasn’t enough to lure Forrest out of office, then perhaps your cry of agony would. But the bloke was just a sliver of a second too late. The tip of the cigarette grazed your skin, enough to leave a slight burn, but as quickly as the glass had broken, Forrest had appeared.

He didn’t hover in the doorway to inspect what was going on. Someone had their hands on you and right away, it was unacceptable. The big, burly man strode forward. His thick fingers curled in the caramel flannel that the bastard was wearing. Forrest snatched the cigarette from his pinched fingers and immediately snubbed the lit tip out by pressing the hot surface against the man’s cheek.

The bloke let out a nasty yell, finally releasing your arm. You lifted your hands, on instinct, to cup over your ears, blocking out the sound of his pained shouting as best as you could.

His cry was like a signal though. The doors flew open and three other men piled in. It was rumored that the Bondurant brother’s were all invincible - especially Forrest. He’d survived a lot - brutal attacks, life-threatening illnesses, having his throat slit, his heart broken, wars. But could he take on four men?

Dropping your hands from your ears when the yelling stopped, you crouched down and began to twist the knob on the safe. It was a sixteen digit pin, so it would take a moment to open, but the revolver inside had six bullets, so you be able to wipe out all of the men with that if it came down to it. You weren’t peering over the bar counter to see what was happening. You were scared - terrified. A part of you wanted to leap into your boss’s arms and give him a bear hug, another part of you wanted to hide in those big arms of his and just forget that your arm had almost been burnt to a crisp. Instead, there was just a very small burn. It was nothing to worry over, nothing in comparison to the burn on the man’s face.

“What the fuck are you all standing there for!” The man rasped loudly, clutching his hand to his face as if the skin on skin contact would help him. “Get him!”

All three men moved forward. One was smoking a cigar - very nonchalant as he marched toward Forrest, one was sweating like he’d just ran a marathon, and the other was blinking furiously as if the dust outside had momentarily blinded him.

Forrest stuck his hand in his pocket and used his fingers to make the shape of a gun. The outline was bulky and visible and the three men hesitated, if only for a second. “I’d think very carefully on what you’re ‘bout to do next, boys.” Forrest spoke softly. His voice was quiet, slow. It was silky against your ears.

You poked your head out for half a second, blindly rotating to nozzle all the way to the left - 11, and then all the way to the right, 5. Inputting every single number as quickly as you could, you jumped in fear at the sound of a sickening crack. You jumped up, expecting to see Forrest laying in a heap on the floor, but instead it was just one of the other men. Forrest stood with his bloodied hand hanging at his side. Blood dripped from the brass knuckles he wore, droplets staining the wooden floorboards. Forrest sneered.

“Who’s next?” He inquired. “The man with the cigarette burn, the broken jaw, the blind one, or the sweaty one.” He flexed his fingers for a moment, waiting impatiently for one of them to charge at him.

What he didn’t expect was for the untouched duo to jump toward him at the same time. He sent his fist flying directly into one of their spine’s, but with the help from the bastard who now had a permanent scar on his cheek, Forrest was sent directly down and on to his back. The men tackled him and you trembled on the spot.

Shakily crouching back down, you began to finish off the code. Forrest’s groans of pain were evident. He was rasping, moaning, putting up as much of a fight as he could. He swung his arms and tried desperately to cover his face. Two men grabbed his arms and pulled them apart, leaving his face and stomach vulnerable to their boss.

The man’s cheek was sunken where the hole was forming. His eyes were red and watery and his stance was slightly shaky. But he had the upper hand as he moved forward. His hand dropped to his pocket and without any hesitance, he pulled a knife free from a holster.

“Now then, why don’t I reopen that cut on your throat?” The man sneered, already beginning to crouch down. Forrest’s nose was bleeding, his eye was swollen and purple. You were sure his stomach would be doused in bruises in the morning and his fingers would be cramped, locked, and jammed.

The safe opened with a quiet buzz and you, with an eagerness, desperately grabbed the handle of the gun and stood. Your hold was steady and your aim was perfect. You’d been working here for a little more than a year, and Forrest had taught you how to shoot within your first few weeks.

Extending your arms out, you held the gun steady as you cocked the revolver. “Hey, asshole.” You said breathily. “If you lay one more finger on him, I’ll kill you.” You could tell by the man’s tense back and resistance to look in your direction that he knew you weren’t bluffing. He slowly tucked away the blade and then sucked in a deep breath of air.

“You’re the first group of people to put up such an unnecessary fight. My brother’s and I, this is what we do, free alcohol from the bootleggers and pretty women are an extra bonus.” He snorted before looking in your direction.

You scowled, before demanding. “Leave..” And although you wanted them to, to all just pile out toward the entrance and get the hell out of here, it worried you. What if they came back sometime in the night when everyone was vulnerable and sleeping? Your eyes were distant as you pondered how this would end. You could blow another hole in his other cheek, though that one would be far more deadly. Or you could let them go.

“Forrest..” You whispered. His guidance was definitely a necessity right now. It wasn’t too often you found yourself in this position. The floorboards creaked underneath you as you shuffled your weight from foot to foot. Forrest sat up with a low grumble, clearly trying to hide the fact that he was in pain. He jerked his arms free from the hold the men had had on him and as he began to stand, he spun around and grabbed the back of their necks. Shoving them toward one another so their skulls rammed into each other, he shoved them both to the floor and then retrieved his brass knuckles. Two opponents down, and one more left.

Forrest gave each of them a few extra punches to the face for good measure, wanting them to realize that they truly weren’t a match for the invincible Bondurant. He whirled around to face the last man, the one who thought he could lay a hand on you, the one who thought he could use you as an ashtray and that would be fine.

The man did that to all of the bartenders, marking them in each town he passed through. His real name wouldn’t live on in the history books, but what he’d done would. Who wouldn’t want to read about a man that burned bartenders with a cigarette butt as a form of payment? It made him want to laugh on the spot.

Instead, he dove head first across the bar counter and directly into you. When it came to fight or flight, your reflexes were clearly to just freeze. His body sent yours crumbling to the floor. It was sticky and disgusting because you only mopped on the weekend. You have a sharp cry of pain and fear as he ripped the gun from your hand and pressed the tip against your chin. “Now then,” He sneered down at you. “You didn’t want a cigarette burn, maybe you’d like a bullet wound. I won’t kill you, I need you alive so you can tell the story about me.” His eyes creased with his lopsided grin and his breath - it stunk of peanuts and smoke. He didn’t even take a sip of the moonshine, it sat prettily on the bar, the liquid shaking from all the movement in the bar.

Forrest stepped toward the bar to help you, just as the man jerked you up and to your feet by your hair. Your eyes were opened wide and your eyes were pleading. The barrel of the gun caressed your soft skin, stroking your chin until he dared to move the gun to your lips. You jerked your head away, scoffing under your breath at the audacity of this man. He must’ve thought he was in a movie with the way he was behaving, talking about himself as if one day he’d be some big story. Your watery eyes moved to Forrest. He hadn’t budged. His knuckles were bloody and dripping - his blood or the men’s blood he didn’t know. All he saw was red. He felt hot and irritated, at a loss of control.

“What do you want?” Forrest said. His voice was so monotone. He sounded like he was taking someone’s order for food, not trying to save your life.

The man chortled. “I want you to light a cigarette and put it out on her body. I’ll let you choose where.” The man moved his hand to the back of your neck, roughly pinching it before he shoved you as hard as possible out from behind the bar and in the direction of your boss. He didn’t follow, he kept four feet between himself and the two of you. The gun was cocked and pointed, all he had to do was shoot.

Your feet didn’t cooperate with your mind, especially not after being forcefully sent flying forward. You rammed right into Forrest’s broad chest, arms immediately lifting so that you could clutch on to his cardigan. No part of you worried that he’d actually do what he was told. This was Forrest, he had a way out of everything - you hoped. Lifting your watery eyes to his own as he pressed his thick fingers against your elbow, steadying you, he checked your face for any signs of injury before slipping his other arm around you as well. You’d never been so close to him, pressed flush against him with hardly any room to breathe.

The man reached up and pinched the front of his hat. Removing the accessory, he lowered it to your head, shielding you from what was to come. Should he be shot, he didn’t think that was something you should see. You blinked slowly, your breaths seeming louder than usual beneath the oversized hat. You couldn’t see much, nothing but the ground and his belly as it rose and fell with every inhale and exhale.

So what happened next made you flinch. It was loud, so loud, there were screams of pain and the sound of cracking bones. Forrest hadn’t moved, he was still standing firmly with his feet planted against the wooden floor. His fingertips dared to brush along your arm, slow and assuring as he watched the scene play out. His brothers weren’t the best fighters, they weren’t the best when it came to confrontation, but regardless of what was happening they’d always have his back like he had theirs.

Without explaining what was going on, Forrest merely lifted the front of his hat so that he could see your features. Inspecting you closely, he let out a quiet grunt before giving you the best smile he could muster. With a swollen lip and a bruised eye, the expression didn’t seem fitting. Who’d be happy at a time like this? Relief colored his features as he slowly brushed his knuckles along your warm skin before he parted his lips to speak.

You beat him to it though. “Thank you..” You whispered softly before dragging yourself back. You didn’t want to suffocate him or make him uncomfortable by clinging to him. There was no longer a threat. “Come on,” You murmured softly. “Let me look at your injuries.” Peeling the hat off of your head, your slender fingers slipped through his own and you slowly guided him toward one of the tables. It was wiped clean, void of any crumbs or liquor, so you set the hat down on the surface and then nudged him gently to take a seat.

Forrest’s knees popped under the pressure and his bloodied hands moved to his stomach. It was only then, when he felt the pressure of the brass knuckles, that he realized he hadn’t taken them off. His fingers felt swollen and stiff and his arms refused to move for a few moments.

You have him a soft smile before slowly reaching for his hand. Your touch was delicate and slow as you pried the brass knuckles off of him. Setting the tool on the table, you turned around to fetch the first aid kit from behind the bar, just as Howard and Jack were hauling the bloke toward the exit. They’d be back for the other three as well.

You stepped over the unconscious bodies on the floor - some drunkards, and the three others were Forrest’s attackers. Retrieving the fallen revolver, you uncocked the weapon and slipped it back in the safe before securely closing the black case and then retrieving the plastic first aid box. The white handle fit snugly in your small palm as you pulled it free from its place under the bar.

You didn’t have the confidence that you’d be able to fix Forrest up as good as new, but you were certain that you’d be able to prevent anymore swelling, help some go down, and patch up the spots on his face that were bleeding. Your boots clicked softly against the floorboards as you made your way over to the table. Setting the box down, you undid the clasps on the front and then pushed it open. Dragging out the small container of alcohol, some gauze, a few wipes, and an ice packet, you gave him a small smile.

Forrest watched your every movement through one good eye, and one half-opened, swollen, purple eye. His nose was busted and bleeding and purple in the center. It didnt look broken, but it certainly looked bruised.

“Could I wipe your hands clean?” You asked softly. There was always an ever present shyness to you when it came to the man seated in front of you. You didn’t know what it was about him that made you feel so nervous, but you felt the need to shy away after every word exchanged.

He gave a quiet hum before lifting his hands and laying them on the table. His knuckles were tense and bleeding in various places. The impact of the brass knuckles hammering against a man’s face, still brought a small amount of pain to the man’s knuckles. He shuffled, watching you as you slipped your hand into his own and lifted it. The sun poured in through the window, falling across the injury so you could see perfectly. You opened the bottle of alcohol, dousing the cloth in it before you gently began to wipe away the smudges of blood and then cleaned the opened wounds, cuts and scrapes that bled like gashes.

He didn’t wince or jerk away even though it stung horribly. It wasn’t a matter of protecting his ego, everyone experienced pain at some point in their life. Adjusting his hand lightly, he cleared his throat before letting his thick fingers drop to his lap when you were finished cleaning them up. “Would you have really shot him?” He asked suddenly.

Your eyes lifted to his own as he asked such a thing. You stepped away again to retrieve some ice, but his words burned your ears. As you filled the ice pack, you couldn’t help but wonder what the honest answer was. Would you have shot him? Blinking a few times, you carried the ice pack back over to your boss and slowly lifted it so that he could hold it in place over his eye. “Yes.” You said after what felt like an eternity to him. “In the leg.. perhaps, or the arm.” You offered. “But I don’t think I couldve killed him.”

Forrest gave a soft nod. “I didn’t expect you to.” He assured you before giving you the best smile he could muster. “I’m incredibly grateful that you.. well, put your life on the line for me like that. He could’ve killed you.”

You snorted. “You and me both. But we’re fine.” Guiding his hand to the ice pack so he could hold it on the wound, you then began to tend to his nose. There wasn’t much you could do, apart from clean up the dried blood that rested underneath his nostril. He had stubble, dancing along the length of his warm flesh. His cheeks and his jaw were coated in the fine hairs, giving some texture to his face as your hand cupped the sharp surface, thumb grazing his chin so that you could tip his head back.

The close proximity was numbing. You felt like you’d been swallowed by a flame. Maybe it was the way the sun illuminated the both of you, but the heat you felt was completely internal. Fidgeting for a moment under his unwavering stare, you watched as the white cloth turned red and his red skin returned to the initial paleness it ordinarily was. Crumbling the rag, you laid it on the table before leaning into him so you could get a better look at his eye. You moved the ice pack, squinting as you inspected the damage.

“I’m not doctor, Mr. Bondurant.. you’re probably better off having this injury looked at.” You suggested before straightening. Your arms slowly crossed over your chest, warm fingertips tracing the sleeves of your shirt.

Forrest grumbled something incoherent before giving you a soft nod. “Feels just fine.” He lied.

“Forrest.” You scolded him. “It’s swollen shut.”

The man arched a brow. Very rarely did you use his first name. His large palm lifted, covering his eye so that he could watch you through the swollen one. “See. Works just fine.”

You squinted challengingly before shaking your head in mild amusement. The man was insufferable. You made movement to turn to clean up the first aid kit tools, but he grasped your forearm tenderly in his large palm.

“Id know if something were wrong with my eye, Y/n, because you look just as beautiful through my swollen eye as you do with my two good ones.” He pulled you in his direction, his expression a pleading one. “Perhaps you should take one more look at it.”

Your brows furrowed at the compliment he’d given you before you stumbled in his direction. Laying your nimble fingers against the unsturdy, wooden arm of the chair. Inspecting his eye as he asked, you gave him a small, shy smile. “Mr. Bondurant, I believe you..” Though you weren’t sure if you did or you just wanted to put some proximity between you and his body. He was so warm and inviting, it drove you up the wall.

Forrest leaned forward. He enjoyed seeing you squirm so much. You were riddled with your fear of being unliked by him, even though it was clear he felt the same things for you. The man’s hand was gentle as it slid up the length of your arm so he could brush a few of your tresses back and out of your eyes.

Your cheeks felt unbelievably warm in this moment. You were sure that if they could be, they’d be the color of a ripe tomato. Lifting your free hand to steady yourself, you pressed it against his strong shoulder. “What are you doing..?” You breathed, attempting to rack your brain for some sort of explanation for his actions. Your brain refused to help you, it was completely blank. The closer your face grew to his own, the hotter you became and the more your brain shut down. You felt like a blob of jello.

He couldn’t help but smile. He sensed your shyness, which was exactly why he didn’t offer any words. Just actions. He figured they’d speak louder. Besides, he had to thank you in some enjoyable fashion. Why not with a kiss? The man spread his thighs wide enough to give you a place to stand. Drawing you forward, he moved his hands to your curvy waist and held on to you as his hot breaths began to mingle with your own.

All at once, your brow smoothed and your mind was completely blank. You saw nothing but him, heard nothing but the hammering of your own heart, smelled nothing but him - and he smelt like smoke and liquor, you felt nothing but his hard body under your palm, and soon you’d taste nothing but those big, pink lips of his. Your own mouth parted, incredibly too willingly, and all at once your mouth’s molded together like long lost pieces to a missing puzzle.

Your body fell into his lap, arms appearing to be insanely slender as they curled around his wide, broad, muscular shoulders. Forrest moved his hand to your leg, steadying you with one hand on your thigh and the other laid against your back. His mouth was slow, tentative, and curious as it moved in sync with your own and your’s was hungry, exploring, and needy. The shyness you felt crept away, but it didn’t go too far, it was just silenced by the romantic exchange he was leading.

His lips were as soft as you were imagined, and he tasted like honey and coffee. You pressed the crook of your elbow against the back of his neck and let a sultry moan fall from your lips in approval. Every brush of his fingers against your spine and feel of his tongue gliding against your own, sent sparks of electricity jolting throughout your body.

You still didn’t understand why he was kissing you, but was there really a point in questioning it? Maybe he was just grateful. Maybe he’d been hit so hard in the face he thought this was the right thing to do? And maybe, you hoped it was for this reason, the incident had helped you both find the confidence to grow suddenly closer. You were careful not to let your nose bump his or your hands to stray too far in fear of hitting an injury. What this meant and how far this would go didn’t cross your mind though, because in this moment there was only him and those sweet tasting lips of his.

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Tag List: @saved-fanfiction @thephuonganh @theaamberr @innerpaperexpertcloud @darklydeliciousdesires @thebeckyjolene @mollybegger-blog @travelingmypassion @caffinated-tree @tcmhollnd @br0ck-eddie @ellar21 @advictedtohim @river-rain-water @crldrr2 @louloudeug99

A/N: This is my first fic in almost a year so please bear with me🖤 ( ALSO NOT MY GIFS ) also it’s been soooo long since I’ve uploaded, I can’t remember how to do a ‘keep reading’ on mobile, so please message me and let me know how!!

[nosferatyou]

New Tune: Chapter 6 (Jake Kiszka x Reader)

WC: 6k (damn I went off)

Warnings: Cursing, Drug use, rock and roll, romantic tension, and a very sweet moment

Summary: Two guitarists meet at a Rock Festival, only having a week with each other before they have to return to their own lives. The bond they create is unfeigned and resolute

AUTHORS NOTE:I listened to an ungodly amount of John Denver while writing this. Also never written a scene like the last before soo that's fun.

 I wanted to try to give them two different styles that represented the characters, and I think I got it. I always saw Jake’s more of a mess, but its still in harmony. While hers is more like mine, a need for perfection, never fully happy with the final product. But there's my rendition of reader and Jake! I hope its satisfactory (also breaking away from your art style is very hard, but hella fun)

***

After she left last night all the boys couldn’t stop gushing about Y/N, well more couldn't stop making fun of me. Holding my newfound feelings for her above my head. Sam and Danny were acting out the night before, but wildly blew it out of proportion.

Sam and Danny were sitting incredibly close on the couch, each hand intertwined with the other boys.  Looking at each other with loving eyes, and the occasional dramatic, love struck sigh coming from Sam. 

“Oh Y/N, the way you wield your axe is just so sexy.” Sam said to Danny, trying to replicate my voice, but was so dramatic about it he was nowhere close.

“Not as sexy as you not making a move.” Danny said with a skewed high pitch voice.

The two boys pressed their cheeks and looked at me, batting their lashes, holding back a laugh.

“If only I didn’t have a mean old boyfriend holding me back from this sexy-” Danny was cut off by me standing from my spot and grabbing my lighter and Cigs.

“Real comedians you guys are.”

I was met with my twin, Josh, already out there seemingly enjoying the morning air.

I looked over and met his gaze, a bright smile adorning his face.

“Well good morning, little bro.”

I grumbled “by five minutes.” Under my breath. I took a spot next to him, leaning against the bus and lighting a cigarette, taking a big hit before finally exhaling.

He looked over to me with more than confusion than previously. 

“Something on your mind? Or should I say Someone on your mind?” A small sympathetic smile following the question.

I took a final drag and put out my cig, turning my full attention towards him.

“Sam and Danny are just doing their normal shit. I love them, but goddamn, they're getting on my nerves.”

“Are you sure that’s all that’s bothering you?” 

I focused on the cigarette butt on the ground, kicking it aimlessly.

“We both know that's not all that’s bothering me.”

He nudged my shoulder and gave the smile as before. “Well let it all out. Tell me about her.”

“You’ve already met her, dumbas-”

He cut me off saying “Well I know about her, but tell me how you feel about her. Dumbass.”

I gave a small laugh and looked back up at my twin.

“ She’s just- Nothing i've ever experienced. She’s got such a diverse taste in everything. She listens to everything we do, all the Jazz, folk, and so on, but then there's everything else. If she knew every word to every song I wouldn't be surprised.” 

I looked back up to josh and the smile on his face had grown. He nodded his head as if to say “Go on”

“And the sheer talent in this girl. You saw her yesterday, so you know. She can play anything man I swear. We spent about three hours playing nonstop and she did it like it was nothing. Did you know she can play like 7 instruments? Its fucking crazy. Plus the way she works with that bow is something else, maybe it's because she has cello experience. She probably has jimmy page impressed.”

 I trailed off for a moment, just thinking about her. My cheeks grew warm and flushed red. 

“She’s also so compassionate, you can tell she really cares. Despite her nonchalant demeanor she secretly goes out of her way to make sure everyones okay. She never told me that, but I can just tell.” 

“You really like her don't you?” Josh asked.

“ I really fucking like her, Josh.” 

After our chat Josh suggested that I spend all the time I can with her, make my mark, so here I am at her door, praying she’s there. With my supplies in hand, I freed my hand to knock on their door. Eventually the door swung open to Y/N with a somber face, but it brightened a bit when she realized it was me. Wearing comfier clothes then she had previously worn.

“Well hey there, Rockstar. Didn't think I’d see you till later.”

“Well I’m here now, and I brought something that'll hopefully cheer you up.”

She raised her eyebrows and noticed what I had in my arms.

“Oh?”

“Let me inside and I'll show you.” I playfully winked.

She laughed and walked up the stairs, letting me in. I walked in, shutting the door behind me, and found her sitting on the couch, knees tucked under her arms.

“Well are you just going to stand there staring, or are you going to show me what you brought?”

She asked, cocking an eyebrow.

I sat down across from her at the table, dumping all the stuff on it. A way too big sketchbook, a huge pencil bag, and gummy bears for good measure.

She stood up and her meek smile grew.

“How’d you know that I could draw?” 

“I just somehow knew a lady of many talents, such as yourself, was probably talented with a pencil as well.”

 She grabbed the huge bag and searched through until she was satisfied. Opened it up to the next blank page and opened the gummy bears for good measure.

She looked up to me with a confused look. 

“What are you still doing over here? Grab the guitar and provide some good tunes while you model for me.” 

I laughed and grabbed the guitar that was in its case next to me. I moved to the couch and unpacked it while asking, “Should I stay still if I’m you’re model?”

Without looking up from the sketch pad, she said, “Nah I should be fine. Just make sure to play something good.”

She looked up at me giving a brighter smile, and refocusing on the task at hand. 

We sat quietly for about 45 minutes, her looking up at me from time to time. Sometimes I’d make a silly face, and make her laugh. Soon after though she would return to her work, not even looking up to grab more candy. When she really focused on her work she’d scrunch up on corner of her mouth. Sometimes she’d bite her lip, back up the paper, then would go to erase something. She never failed to mindlessly hum along to songs though, only proving my point from this morning. 

She finally backed the paper up one final time before clicking her tongue, her eyes lighting up.

“I think I got your essence perfectly.”

She flipped it around to show me, nervousness flashing in her eyes for a moment.

I was completely blown away. She had completely nailed it. It only made my heart swell more.

She flipped it back around to look at it again “I think I kind of messed up your face a little in the big one. Sorry about that.”

“No no! It looks absolutely perfect and I’m not at all surprised. You did good, seriously. Y/N it looks fantastic.” I gushed, my cheeks growing pink.

Her cheeks grew pink and refocused on the drawing in front of her. She grabbed the pencil and eraser and continued to poke at her piece, never content with her own work.

After a little while I moved the guitar off my lap and moved towards her to nab the items out of her hands. I swiftly grabbed them and hid them behind my back, a pert smile on my lips..

“Hey! I was using those you know.” She said, holding her hand out as to ask for them back.

I quickly shook my head and said “You think I’m just going to give these to you? It's already perfect, there's nothing more to fix.”

She turned her head down with a sad look adorning her face, but I caught the mischievous grin poking through. “Fine then.”

“You're really not great at faking it, darling. I see that little smile on your face.”

She lightly chuckled and suddenly jumped up out of her seat to grab the items from behind me, but just as swiftly as she lept, I took a big step backwards.

“Gotta try harder than that, Little Bird.” I moved my hand above my head, and wiggled the pencils in the air enticingly. 

She looked up at the items and then back at me, a smug look on her face.

“You may be a big rockstar and all..” She paused and easily reached up, grabbing them out of my hands. “But I'm still taller than you.” She went to sit behind me on the couch in my previous spot, but not without ruffling my hair in a teasing manner. 

“You did your best, buddy.”

I whipped around and dramatically put my hands on my hips. “I totally went easy on you.”

“Sure, Rockstar.” She said, grabbing the guitar from beside her, strumming a few chords.

I grabbed all the essentials off the table, sketchbook, pencil bag, and of course the gummies. Then made my way to the couch, plopping down on her left side, dumping everything to my own. 

She stopped for a moment to try and hand me back the pencil and eraser, but I pushed her hand away and chuckled. 

“Don't you want these back, to you know, draw?” She asked.

“I prefer ink, but thank you, Little Bird.” I smiled.

We did the same as before, she modeled and provided tunes while I did my best to capture her. I knew we’d have different styles right away. You can tell she's a perfectionist in her work, not accepting flaws. I have messy lines, them almost seem alive with how fast I create them. I draw what I see, but add my own to it, depth can be something you make. So for the next hour or so I did my best to scratch out her beauty, mostly focusing on her face, which became apparent when I got a good look at it. I had been so careful with her face that the rest didn't seem to matter.

Id catch her glances every now and then, peaking at me over the guitar in curiosity. Every time I did I’d make a silly face, and every time she quietly laughed to herself with a content smile that follow. Every chance I could id try to catch her eyes just to see that. 

Halfway through her quiet rendition of “Dink's Song” I had finally finished her portrait. Which honestly didn’t compare to hers, but still, I was proud. I flipped it around to face her, and suddenly her singing stopped, her focus completely on the piece 

“Jake” She paused and grabbed it out of my hands, studying it more. 

“This is fucking fantastic.” She breathed out. Her eyes rapidly wandered the piece, trying to take it all in.

A small grin broke out on my face, and quietly fiddled with my hands, not wanting to interrupt her thoughts. 

She looked back up at me with wide, questioning eyes “How does no one know that you're this good?” She asked.

I chuckled and said “ Never seemed important to share. Its only a small hobby.”

“Only a small hobby.” She mocked. “As I said, this is fucking fantastic.”

“Well thank you, Little Bird.” A small blush forming on my cheeks.

“No, thank you, man.” She paused and moved the guitar to her side then grabbed my hand.

“No ones ever made me something like this. It’s absolutely beautiful.”

“Anything for you, Little Bird.” I said, and I meant every word.

She never let go of my hand, just sat back into her seat staring off in thought, I didn't mind the silence though. Until she asked

“Hey, Jake?”

“Yeah, Y/N?”

“I'm sorry I dragged you into that pit, I saw the way the media got a hold of it. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable.”

I squeezed her hand and caressed the back of it with my thumb. My heart was beating so hard, and I was incredibly nervous. She didn’t seem to mind at all though.

“Oh Little Bird, No darling this happens literally all the time. It’s nothing to stress over.”

“You sure?” She asked.

“Completely.” I paused for a moment “But I’m sorry it caused… you know. Boy trouble.”

She groaned and threw her head back “Oh god you head that?”

“Well when you yell that you’re not fucking Jimmy Page for everyone to hear its hard not to.” A playful smile on my lips. 

She groaned again and said “Oh god I’m sorry.”

“It's fine man, I get it all the time.. Well not the fucking part, but the Jimmy Page part.”

“She whipped her head to face me and quickly responded “No, not okay. You and Jimmy Page have completely different styles, and idiots like him who don't even listen to Greta have no say. I could go on about the technicalities of it all, but id probably bore you.” She paused and stared 

off for a moment for returning. “Plus I don't even think he listened to, nor liked zeppelin.”

“Well that's just blasphemous.” 

She laughed “You've got that right!”

“Wait shit do you have the time.”

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and turned it on, the screen flashed 4:30. I passed it over to her and as quickly as she read it, she popped up off the couch frantically.

“Shit! I have to get ready and go to sound check at 6!”

“Well go get ready then! Want me to wait?” I asked.

“Sure, but I can't promise that it will be very interesting.”

“I don't mind, after I can walk you to the venue if you'd like.”

She smiled and said “ And they say chivalry is dead.”

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

He was kind enough to wait around and watch me do my makeup for the next 30 minutes. I of course put a little eyeliner on him, he didn't ask but he didn't seem appalled at the idea. After all of that I quickly put on my stage clothes, which consisted of Dark blue high waisted bell bottoms, a simple blue velvet bralette, a black see through shirt with white embroidered flowers (fully unbuttoned of course, and purple paisley heels for some color. When I came out of the back and he saw what I was wearing he was not very suave about complimenting it. It was honestly pretty cute.

As promised he walked me to the venue, he even added my guitar to his already heavy load. Once we got there he sadly had to go because he had his own show to get ready for. He didn't leave without a hug and a wish for good luck before going to wherever he needed to be. 

One successful soundcheck later and we were all ready for the stage. 

Nerves jittered through the whole band, this was the biggest crowd we've ever played, and it's all thanks to the Greta boys. All of the people in the crowd were here to see them. 

5 minutes till we had to go on stage and Eli had taken a small glass jar with white contents inside out of his pocket, luckily we were alone in our dressing room. He asked Asa to hold up his bass for us as a makeshift table. He emptied enough for all of us to snort three lines.

 We all let him go first since it was his, with drug equity and all. Matt went next, not that he needed it, he was already so chaotic, but it's fun to all be high together. Eli took it from Asa and let him do his, then it was my turn. We used to do this a lot before shows, but recently with a break for recording its lessened. Still our tolerances were higher than the first time we all did it together. 

I bent down to snort the first line, the familiar smell of petrol hit my nose, and shortly after I felt the drug hit the back of the throat. It burned for a brief moment, but then I got that drip, my nose, tongue and throat went numb, which made it all the more easier for the next two lines.

I instantly felt that buzz, the high we’d all been chasing. We all went from nervous to ready to play in front of a million people. Matt jumped up and in tow we all did. Buzzing from our high.

 Id grabbed my guitar and slung it on my back, Eli did the same, then we all made our way to the main stage. We whooped and hollered, ready to take on our biggest show. In the wings I spotted the Greta boys and quickly made my way over to them.

“You look absolutely stunning, Darling!” Josh yelled at me.

I slung my arm over him for a quick hug and replied “Don't I know it, had to show off the goods somehow. I'm a free woman! Well not yet… But when I get a mic on my hands I will be dumping my bitch ass boyfriend.”

“Hell yeah! Fuck that guy!” Sam chimed in.

“Fuck that guy!” I pulled away from the hug and told josh “Dude your skin has what I can only describe as good vibes, man. Like a warm feeling. I have to apologize, I just did a couple lines of coke and I am feeling the buzz. Like, Jake, you look ethereal in this light right now. Absolutely stunning.”

He just laughed and said “Well i'm glad i can be described as ethereal.”

“I could honestly go on about it, but I think I have to go. I hope you all enjoy, and wish me luck!” 

Behind me I could hear someone say “One minute!” So I quickly darted back over to my band. 

We did our lucky chant, huddled, first all crouched low to the ground. The chant really isn’t all that intricate, we just go start chanting “Fuck” in a whisper, then gradually getting louder until we are screaming and jumping around, bumping into each other.

 As so we were screaming and knocking into each other, until we all chilled and got plugged up and ready to go.

We heard our bands name announced and made our way on stage. Cheers erupted from the crowd, which was huge might I add. With the coke I was ready to do anything, and this was going to be a breeze. 

Before we went on I asked Matt if I could introduced the first song and he very graciously agreed.

We took to our spots, and when the crowd quieted Matt did the introduction.

“Hello, California! We are so glad to be here, and fucking jam with you guys! But we have a guitarist who wants to introduce our first song.”

More cheers erupted from the crowd, but that didn't last long. I stepped up to the mic “Hello everyone! I really want to dedicate this to my boyfriend, Sam.”

My band all gave me the weirdest looks, but the crowd awed in response.

“I see those fucking looks you’re giving me guys. This goes out to my son of a bitch EX boyfriend who doesn't deserve this much woman! Fuck that guy! This ones called Innocent Sun.”

 For a third time the crowd erupted in cheers, this time just as excited as the first

I backed away, and our drummer Asa got the message, playing the count in. 

Despite the name of the song it was one of our angrier ones, which is why its at the top of the set. 

Eli and I came in with a heavier riff, and with the coke, physical touch was enhanced, so my guitar strings felt so weird it was a bit distracting. I didn’t mess it up but my head was out of it.

Matt was dancing wildly along to the music, whipping the microphone around like Roger Daltrey. While he sang he’d come up to all of us and try to interact. Like he and I would play back to back, and I’d sing with him from time to time. Typically he would run around and jump off the drum risers. 

By the end of the song the adrenaline of being on stage coerced with the drugs, creating something else. We all were doing new shit in every song. I was sticking new solos anywhere I could.  Matt attempted a backflip off one of the bigger amps, which he miraculously made. Eli at one point just slapped the shit out of his bass, which didn't sound too bad. Poor Asa couldn’t do too much from behind the drums, but his drum fills were phenomenal.

As a black sabbath type band we were getting strangely rowdy, and lucky for me I had a wireless set up. So during a solo in one of the heavier songs I did a guitar spin and everyone completely lost it. Lucky for me I had taken off my loose shirt earlier in the set. 

After I had winked at the Greta boys in the wings and they lost their shit, all cheering me on. I felt like I was on cloud nine.

My heart was pounding, my ears were ringing, and I felt like I could take on the world. I was creating new licks, killing solos, and giving off some pretty damn good stage presence. But I was starting to come off of my high, and all of those pent up feelings were starting to come out. Lucky for me our last song is when we covered “Dazed and Confused”, it didn't run as long as Zeppelin played it live but its longer than anything else we played. 

When we got to the guitar solo in the song I grabbed the bow behind my pedal board and stuck my pick between my lips, quickly switching on a bunch of delay effects. 

 I gave it one test stroke on the lowest string, creating a bunch of haunting notes. When I got my confidence I rapidly smacked the strings with the bow and played chords rapidly. I slowed down, and went into the upper register, rapidly playing the highest string like a violin, trying to sound delicate. My mind wandered again, everything flooding my head. Me finally leaving Sam, everything he put me through, all the abuse and turmoil finally over. Which produced a dark sound with my guitar, throwing caution into the wind, and smack the shit out of it, occasionally strumming. It was a loud crescendo into chaos, but a beautiful one at that. 

Sweat soaked my skin and my heart was practically beating out of my chest. I kept looking over to Jake throughout the solo, searching for something but I didn't know what. I then saw the way he looked at me when I played, then I remembered the way he looked at me in general. The longing looks, his attention to detail to everything I did, the way he listened and cared. When I was looking at him I finally realized what I had been so painfully blind to. That a man only looked at someone that was for one reason, and the way I stared back only gave him more incentive to. Thing was is that I enjoyed it. I wanted his attention all the time, so bad it hurt. And I realized that since the moment I met him I had been falling for him. I just gave him the brightest smile and he reciprocated with exactly that.  

I walked to the front of the stage and went into another realm of playing. I created a brighter tone as my hand danced up and down the neck. I gave one final stroke with the bow and walked closer to the amp to create feedback, creating a loud screech, transitioning into the end of the song. I threw my bow into the crowd and took the pick from my mouth went back into the main riff of Dazed and Confused with the rest of the band.

 Asa took a mini drum solo at the end and absolutely nailed it. To finally finish it all off we all went crazy with our instruments, Matt just screamed into the mic, Eli just smacked his strings over and over, Asa lost it with the drums, and I went into a final wild solo. We all looked at each other and mentally counted down, ending the song together. The crowd erupted with cheers and we made our way off the stage, all of feeling exhausted and covered head to toe in sweat, but proud of our performance. 

The moment I got off stage I ran to Jake, and he quickly engulfed me in his arms, only staying there for a moment before he pulled away. He kept me at arms length minimum when he rained compliments onto me.

“Y/N that was absolutely fantastic! Oh my god that spin made us all lose our minds! You have to teach me. I didn’t know you could do all that, and that solo on Dazed and Confused? Phenomenal, I say something in you change.”

“Thank you so much! Speaking of that, Jake. I've got to talk to you.”

He didn’t seem to think too much about that last comment, he seemed rushed.

“Of course, love. Later alright? We go on right after you and Josh will actually kill me if I’m late.” 

“Yeah I totally understand. Go hurry, I can't wait to see you guys go on.”

He gave me a tight hug before speed walking to one of the dressing rooms.

Nerves grew within me when I realized I had two big conversations to have.

Speaking of which, I guess I should do damage control, coked out me is a bit impulsive.

***

Finding a quiet spot was weirdly hard, I mean we were in a literal desert. But I turned on my phone, not checking my notifications. I just went straight to my contacts and dialed Sams number.

He took longer to pick up then normal. Weird.

“ What’d you do this time?”

“Well hello to you too.”

“Well you only call me when you know you screwed up, like with Jimmy Page.”

I let out a long sigh, dread building in me. “Did you watch my show?”

He obviously has not.

“ I caught the end of it, You really only looked back stage, was jimmy page there.”

That anger was building up again, he didn't even mention the actual show.

“ Listen Sam about that-”

He cut me off  “Oh so you are fucking him?”

“Sam just shut the fuck up!” 

The line went quiet, and surprisingly stayed quiet.

“Sam I can't do this anymore.” My voice slightly shaking with every word.

“Y/N no, I-” His tone was different than any he’d used over this week. His words were panicked, I actually don't ever think I've heard him like this.

“No Sam, I don't want this anymore. You treat me like garbage, you don't trust me, and you don’t respect me. So this is done.”

He got louder, his tone even more panicked before. I think he might have been crying. 

“You don't have to do this! I'll stop, I-I’ll stop everything! I will do anything you want me to… Just please stay.”

“You know that's not what will happen.” I said slowly, I was practically hanging my head in shame.

“Y/N please.” 

“ Please move out before I get home, you have a week or so. Im sorry, Sam.” and with that I hang up. 

 I was practically whispered at that point. I wasn't disappointed in myself, but it was shitty of me to do it over the phone. The way I handled it all was shitty.

What pulled me out of mood was josh voice talking over the PA and Jake guitar ringing through the air. I booked it as fast as I could to the venue so I could see their whole show. I pushed respectively pushed through some random workers and crew, but I made to the wings just in time.

The moment got their parked myself as close I could, wanting to see everything. I caught Jake’s eyes when I got there and he almost seemed relieved. He gave me a warm smile, then refocused on the song “The Cold Wind.”

The show was absolutely phenomenal. They all killed it, Josh with his wailing, Sams bright bass lines, Jake perfect guitar work, and of course, Danny who held it all together perfectly. 

I danced and sang along with what I knew, Which was admittedly sparse. I didn't stop until I heard “Black Flag Exposition” which put me in a trance, I just couldn't focus on anything else. 

I know I heard it just yesterday but this is something else. His emotion bled through his music, he created magic that night. Which bled right into “Watching Over,”and he pulled the over the shoulder solo. It was uh… quite the spectacle.

 I danced and watched as long as I could, but before I could see the end of When the curtain falls I was dragged away by a roadie.

 I was given my guitar and attached to the bluetooth system. They worked fast, getting me through a small soundcheck as quickly as possible. After they just placed me right back where I was before to await my que. 

The moment I got there I heard Josh give a small speech to the crowd, and it was the sweetest thing I’d ever heard.

“I love you all! We are here to celebrate Life, love, and music. Where there is love, we must celebrate it, All of us! And Where there is no love we must provide it. That's what we are to do tonight. Now we have one last song, and one more person to spread the love with. Give it up for Miss Y/N Y/LN!”

With my guitar in hand I made my way to my spot on stage between Josh and Jake, the mic stand already set up. 

“We took a lot of time to think of the perfect song you guys, and we decided on the one song that can make anyone fall in love. Enjoy.”

Jake and I started the solo to “Annie's Song”  together, even though we didn’t have acoustics we still sounded beautiful. 

Josh came in, but instead of his normal higher pitched voice, he used his lower register which still blew me away even though we practiced for hours yesterday. With Sam on the Keys it all was enough to make me cry. 

When we got to the chorus Jake and I Stepped up to the mic to harmonize with Josh, but the crowd decided to join in. It was absolutely transcendent

. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of Jake, and the smile off of my face. Hearing the crowd sing along with us, singing with my friends, and finally feeling free, I couldn't help but let a tears flow down my cheeks.

We stepped back to let Josh sing again, and Jake seemed to notice the tears and gave me the sweetest smile he could. All the love in the room was truly moving me. For the last chorus josh asked the crowd to sing along again and as loud as they could. 

As Jake and I sang we stole glances from each other, the smiles not breaking from either of our faces. Something in me finally settled, I really was truly free. 

Josh sang the final note, and we finished off the song by giving a final strum to a G chord together. As quickly as it began it had ended and suddenly walking off stage, finding myself without a guitar and being wrapped into another from jake. 

I instantly could smell his cologne on him, stronger than anything else. My skin burned where he touched me, I was buzzing with adrenaline, and I wanted nothing more than to just stay there.

Without pulling away he whispered “That really was something, huh?”

“It really was, Jake.” I sniffled.

He gently pulled away, but didn't move me from his arms. Instead of saying anything he brought his hand to my cheek and gently wiped away my tears. I looked up to him with eyes full of emotion. A lopsided smile adorned his face, and I swore his eyes were full of stars.

His hand was warm on my face, and continued to gently stroke my cheek. 

“You're beautiful, you know that?” I blurted out, still with a soft tone. Our eyes never left each others. 

His smile grew at the comment and he seemed to drift closer to me, heat radiating off him. 

“ The same could easily be said for you, little Bird.” 

I reached up and brushed his hair out of his face, my fingers moving from the tucked hair behind his ear to the back of his neck, delicately entangling them in his hair. 

I glanced down to his mouth, his lips partially open, pink and plush, astonishingly beautiful. I met his eyes again, searching, trying to find an incentive to move forward. He looked at me with the same expression, something of desperation and a softness read through him.

I moved painfully slow, pulling him closer to me, the same scent from before coming back to me. I put my other hand on his bare chest, inching closer to him. He kept his hand on my face, but moved his other to my lower back. My whole body was buzzing, wanting to move closer.

My eyes fell to his face for a moment, he drifted closer to me, our noses bumped one another.

I held my breath in anticipation, waiting for the moment to come. 

I couldn't take it anymore. I closed my eyes and pushed forward,  my lips meeting his, my warmth pushing against his. I was slowly engulfed into the warmth of his body, fleeting touches, the both of us finally emotionally letting go. When he kissed back I felt my blood rushing through my body, my heart rate rapidly increasing,  I could feel his beat just as hard against my hand. He pulled me closer to him, and I ran my hand from his chest to his neck, desperately trying to feel as if we were one. 

Both of us were heavily breathing through our noses, not wanting to break away from the rhythm we had created. Our hearts beat in tandem, our hands creating a pace, and our lips moving together in tandem. Creating a New Tune, something in our spirits becoming one for a small, fleeting moment. 

We both pulled away, leaning our foreheads against each other, breath heavy, and our hands unmoving.

“I've been wanting to do that all week” He weakly laughed out.